"What is her name ?" "Emily." "Emily! Is she beautiful ?" "Very beautiful!" "And amiable ?" "Her like is not to be found.” "You have seen her, then ?" "Ay, frequently! She often spends an afternoon with me, and reads long chapters in the Bible-the dear creature reads so sweetly, too!—and many is the time she has brought me food when I was almost starving. Poor thing! she often weeps bitterly; I sometimes think her father is unkind to her; but I may judge him harshly. There is a Captain Despard, (Despard, I think, is the name,) who often visits the house, and is very fond of her; but I am sure she can never fancy him-he is too different from her in temper and disposition. She was sadly frightened the other day with the report of a gun, as she was seated in an arbour near her father's house." "Well, what of that?" I eagerly inquired. "Oh, nothing, nothing!" briefly answered the old woman. "But who fired the "A young gentleman, as Miss Florence de gun ?" scribes him, with black eyes and chestnut hair; I should almost think you were the very person." "Do you know his name?" I inquired, without noticing this allusion. "No," she replied; "he was never seen in this neighbourhood before. Miss Florence often speaks of him, but that is only to me; she dare not hint the subject to her father; she would not have it known that she had formed the slightest acquaintance with a stranger." My ecstasy knew no bounds. I was like the miserable captive who unexpectedly regains his liberty. A hue of gladness was imparted to every thing around. The cottage (because frequented by Emily) now seemed a palace; the cottager a princess; and the gushing waters of the spring the very nectar of the gods. I had at last discovered the name of her whose image was so continually before me; her in whom my sympathies and affections were all centred; nay, she was almost in my presence-not a shadow, but the substance; not a phantom, but the blessed and glorious reality. 66 What,” I exclaimed, “are all the fleeting and fickle pleasures of the world! what the magnificent palaces of kings, with their imperial banquet ing and gorgeous processions! what, indeed, are all the treasures of the earth or the sea, in comparison with the pure, the bright, the beautiful object of our young and innocent affections !" CHAPTER XVI. When you have our roses, You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves, SHAKSPEARE. Oh, the bewitching tongues of faithless men! To draw the pitying traveller to her den. With sighs and plaints y' entice poor women's hearts, OTWAY'S Orphan. THE Cottager informed me that she expected a visit from Miss Florence on the following day. "An opportunity will then occur," said I to myself," for the consummation of all that I have so ardently desired." Without giving any intimation, however, of my intention to return, I took my hat to depart; and, as a memento of my visit, laid a small piece of gold coin (all the money about me) on the withered palm of Meg Lawler-for such, she told me, was her name. I had scarcely reached the door when she said Stop a moment! There is something in your face that makes me wish we were better acquainted. You are eager to be gone, because my lone cottage affords you no comfort. Have a little patience, sir; here is a drop of something that will warm you. It was sent to me from old Ireland," she continued, taking a brown jug from a recess in the chimney, "and I share it only with particular friends, such as Emily Florence and yourself; but she, poor thing! never touches it; and then, you see, I have to drink it all myself." The jug was half filled with whiskey. She poured out a portion of it, and requested me to drink to our better acquaintance. I touched the cup to my lips, and replaced it again upon the table. This she considered a direct insult; and, in a violent rage, declared that I might feel myself honoured by her condescending to notice it.* She, moreover, commanded me, although I pleaded indisposition, to drink off its contents, under pain of her everlasting displeasure. Of the two evils I chose the lesser; and with the fortitude * See a little volume entitled "Singular Customs of the Irish." |