to remain so. In 1 lie mean time her parents won lerfiii and guessed, and the landlord was sure he would return for the portmanteau. Day after day passed, unmarked by any tliinst but the petulant reveries of Almeria, and the constant and untired conjectures of the other members of the familv. About a fortnight after the disappearance of the stranger, an elegant equipage was seen coming down the green lane that led to the Mer maid. Nothing e mid he more rare than the sight—all was bustle, ami even Hetty's discon tented face brightened at this uncommon spec tacle. Almeria’s heart best high—she tally bo li'eved that the stranger.-the. carriage, and her self, were intimately connected. It stopped at the door; the landlord stood ready to receive the contents, whatever they were A gentle man rather advanced in years, alighted from it. ‘ Are you,' said he, • master of the house ?’ ‘ Why, S’) they say,’ returned the landlord jo cosely, hut perhaps my wife would tell you a different story. I he genthonan did not appear inclined to joke ; he 1 inked sad and solemn, and followed the doctor with a stately air to the little parlour where Almeria was sitting. ‘ 1 have business with you.’ said he, address ing the father, hut turned his eyes upon his daughter. The, young lady, however, kept her seat. ‘ I know not,' said he after a pause, 1 why I should endeavour to make a secret of what can be none to you. A few weeks since, a young man resided here—it is to settle his accounts I come.’ . ‘Tell me,’ said Almeria, with a theatrical tone, * what has become of him? his no acci dent befallen him ?’ ‘Happily none.’replied the gentleman, ‘he was recognized, and is now in a place of seijuri ty? •in prison.' said Almerin, ‘ tell me ivliere, that f may fly to him ’ ‘Impossible,’said the gentleman, ‘yon can do him no good—lie is carefully guarded.’ • lie said he was friendless,’ said Almeria. ‘but I leol that my fate and his must henceforth be connected.' The gentleman looked at her with astonish ment. -It is not possible,’said lie. ‘my son could have been weeks in your family. and you not have discovered his situation—Alas, young lady, I wish you a happier fate. My son a feu weeks since escaped from confinement; he is lunatic!’ An expression of the deepest anguish came over his face—he rose and walked the room. ‘I thank you,’ said he at length, assuming more comp isure, ‘ for your kindness to my un happy hoy—it was from himself, for on,many subjects he is rational, that I learnt tli•• particu lars of his residence here, his sickness and your kind attention. N nwiths! Hiding the landlord and his dough ter expressed much curiosity, and felt more than th"V expressed, the. gentleman evaded all particular information i [e told them his name was De \ am ,’hich was some satisfaction, as thev had not been aide to ascertain this point Iron the young man Though he was not as entn no i -ative asthey desired, his pecuniary re. Cooipense was perfectly agreeable to the doe tm - leelings, and when he took leave, the land lord gave him a cordial invitation to call again whenever he came along that wav. It might sponi incredible to those who have nev ■ i h.o-o com ersant wi;c, deeidedly mad. ; 10 lit: i iNTINCM).] 11L.IILAX1) MARY. Flic mother of Hums* Highland Mary, Wiiii has resided in (irr'Mimk for a Ion”; pe riod. dirt! then* on (he drill of Oc’oher, 1 d IT, a" tin* r. ivan-red age of eighty five years.— ! ins venerable looking woman remembered to almost tiie ! is! in unent of her existence, with an affectionate i gard. the one who in spired Homs' finest effusions, arid was the object of his purest attachment; and it was impossible to hear her eider minntelv into the particulars of her daughter's life, and the amiable qualities of her heart, w (hunt feeling convinced that Mary ('amphell had somethin'.; more than ordinarv attraction to fascinate the mind of the poet. Were we to judge, from the appearance of the mother, whose fine black eve. and regular features, it her advanced age, gave indications of early beauty, we would sav that “Highland Marv" prohablv had also personal charms, which would have influenced ,1 less sensi tive mind than that of Robert Horns. \ tnong the little stores of the deceased, there was nothing to he found as mementos of our sifted hard, but the Rihle, which lie gave his beloved Marv on tfiat dav. when thev met on the hanks of the A vr. “ to live one da v of parting love.*’ It is. indeed, a curiosity, and has written on the first leaf, iri Rums’ hand writing, the following passage of scrip - tore, which is striking’v illustrative of the poet’s feeling and circumstances:—“Thou shall not forswear thyself, but shall perform unto the Lord thine oaths.” It is well known, that after this thev never met again, and at that time could not efface the so lemnity of this parting from his mind; and it is to he regretted that two letters, which lie wrote after her death to the afflicted mo ther have been destroyed—the old woman s.ivUnr, “-he could never read them with out shedding tears.” The mother and d inghter are now sleeping in the West Church-Yard—and i-. ••Marv” to remain without a stone to tell the stranger of her place of rest ? After all. the must natural beauty in tlm world is honesty and moral truth. For all beauty is truth. True features make the beauty ol a face : and true proportions the heaiitv of architect ire; as true measures that of harmmn and music. In poetrv, which is ail fallable, truth still is the per fection. — Sluf/abiiri/. It is a fact not generally known,that (’ol. Brown, of 1 lie American Loyalists, and his lady, the originals from whom Smollett drew the characters of f.irnt. FAxhmahu^n and .'\fiss Tahi'im Hrainbb, are still in the land of the living. They were in Plymouth recently, and are now residing in the vicini ty of London. The colonel is in the P-i'li, and the lady in her 93d year .—[Eng. Jour. .bilii/i/ifi/.—Why is if t'uit the mind loves In linger above a:nl around the ruins of inanimate objects?—whv dn*>s it hallow things which are desolate and wild—things which are hat. fragments in themselves rtf some mightier fragment ? Whv has unseem ly decay a charm so far surpassing youth ful strength? why lias the lank weed an attraction superior to the sweet-scented garden-flower? Whv is Britain in her full grown strength, and America in her youth ful vigour, less interesting than Home in her weakness, and Assyria in her desola tion? It is the spell of soul that hangs over them—it is their connexion with mind, and with the iperations of mind, that gives them such mastery over our feelings. It is th< long line of lof:v names, of hards, sage | and heroes; it is the song of genius, the volume of wisdom, and the spear of valor. What is Cartilage without the recollection j of her former queen and her gaMant Hanni bal?—what is the rock of Salamis utiassoci ated with the name of Themistocles, the I steep of I.eucas without the despairing Sap pho. and the Hellespont without the bridge ol Xerxes, and the shriek of the drowning Beamier ? What were Castalia without the harp of Apollo; arid the dance of the Muses, and Olympus without the thunders of I “cloud compelimg” Jove? It is the re j collection of being, whether real or fteti ; fiotts, which gives them II their interest.— j The great and the powerful of old still lin j ger there, “ Their spirits wrap the dusky mountain, Their spirits hover o’er the fountain ; The meanest rill, the mightiest river KolU mingling w ith their lame forever.” WIT OF Slit THOMAS MOORE. Sir Thomas Moore, one day, when his second wife (who was a very Aantippe in temper) came from shrift, she said merrily to him—lie merry, Sir Thomas, for this dav, 1 thank God I was well shriven, I have now left oil’ my shrewncss.”—‘Yea,* re plied Sir Thomas, “and ready to begin afresh/’ An acquaintance of his bavin" taken great pains in writing a hook, which he intended to publish, brought it to Sir Thomas for his opinion. Sir Thomas hav ing looked it over, and finding it a foolish, trill.ng performance, told the writer, with a grave face, that it would be worth more if it was i:i verse. The man, upon tins, took it home, am! set about turning it into verse. W hen he had finished it, ho carried it again to Sir Thomas, who, having looked it over, said to him, “ \v, marry, it i- now something : it is now rhvme. hot I) lore it was iiriihei i n vine nnr reason. " lu n he was Lord ( liaui e!ior. I.e enjoiina) a ^et/tle inan to iisv a considerable ••'.in to a poor woman who hail been oppressed In linn; upon which the eeath-man said he hoped his lonl'llip would give him a toil" dav to pav it in. •‘Von shall have \our request,^ said Sir Thomas; ” M ml iv in xt is St. liamaii.is, the longest dav ;:i tie y nr; do you pay it then, orclaeyou kiss the Fleet-’’