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<h the different forms
of insanity, that De Vaux should have exhibited
so lew ssgits of mental derangement, during Iiis
rrsidi'nre at the Mermaid. Hut it was only on
one subject t!;at lie v>;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-’’