his observation at a time when he was least prepared to support them, and when they sounded to him as reproaches addressed to him from the grave. The dreadful thought of hav ing blighted so sweet and delicate a flower, by the selfishness of his fatal tenderness, was more than he could bear; and his brain gave way before the overwhelming conviction. Had she never beheld him, she might still have lived, blessed and revered. Medical aid arrived, and suspended animation was soon restored; but, oh! who can depict the anguish, the wild despair of Teresa, on discovering that the fine and noble mind of her father was utterly gone! In childish and heart-rending imbecility he turned on her face those eyes which had never looked on her heretofore save with yearning love-those eyes wherein all that was great and intelligent had shone, though clouded by mournfulness. A vacant unmeaning smile sat on that proudly-chiselled mouth, and a total forgetfulness of all the faces around him, evinced itself in his stupid stare.

Teresa clung around his neck, and with heartbreaking sobs called upon him to bless herto speak to her-to name her daughter!-She flung herself at his feet, and watched by the hour for a change-for one glance of recognition. But no change came; and at length, the wretched daughter was carried to her bed, from whence she arose not for many weeks. A violent brain fever was the result of her late shock, and when she began to recover she blessed God for having spared her life, which was now inexpressibly valuable to her, since she might devote it to the guardianship of her helpless father.

No mother ever nursed a darling child with more tenderness than Teresa evinced towards her adored parent; and when once she could bring herself to encounter his vacant looks without fresh paroxysms of anguish, she would watch his eyes for hours, that she might anticipate, if possible, his wants. At length it occurred to her that the air and scenes of his native country, might possibly prove of some

benefit, and that the sight of Florence and the spots where he had first beheld his Geraldine, might awaken some gleam of recollection in his benighted mind. She soon fixed her plans, and, accompanied by her father and the faithful woman who had been her mother's nurse, went to London, where she was compelled to remain for a short time, in order that her affairs might be settled with the worthy man who acted as her mother's executor.

Teresa's faithful servant, Martha, secured lodgings in the house of her sister for the father and daughter, and there they established themselves at once. Their apartment was in one of those narrow, obscure streets in the vicinity of Soho Square, and though every thing about them was clean and respectable, yet still Teresa's heart sank within her as she seated herself at the dingy window and looked out on the moving crowds, scarcely distinguishable through the fog. It was one of those thoroughly miserable days which are peculiar to London. The rain fell incessantly, and as the unfortunate foot

passengers hurried along with their dripping umbrellas, Teresa could hear the splashing sound of their steps on the wet pavement. The atmosphere was of a dark orange hue, and a feeling of suffocation distressed the respiration of the mountain-born girl.

She gazed long unconsciously on this dreary scene, with an expression of deep mournfulness in her countenance, and then she turned and looked on her father's face. He was busily engaged in playing with a little kitten which had stolen into the room, and his black garments, and haggard, noble countenance, were sadly at variance with the eager, childish smile on his features. As Teresa contemplated him, large tear-drops trickled down her pale cheeks, and she felt that she would willingly sacrifice all her earthly happiness to purchase the return of that fine mind. Her own beauty at this moment was celestial, as the enthusiasm of her filial love shone in her large dark eyes through their tears, and her lovely hands were crossed on her bosom. There she was, young, gentle, and inexpressibly

beautiful, alone and unloved in the midst of cold or careless thousands!

We often exclaim thoughtlessly, "what a wonderful place is London!" It is indeed a scene of surprising and sad contrasts; a mighty mass of happiness and misery; virtue and depravity, through all their several gradations! There you may see the equipage of pomp dashing through the streets and squares, whilst its haughty occupant wonders at the audacity of the famishing wretch who dares to hold up his hand for charity. There you may see the midnight revel-the splendid ball-room where wealth has lavished its fairest adornments, and where motley crowds are assembled in search of happiness, but look on their pallid countenances, mark in many of them the quivering lip and forced smile, and ill-assured voice, and reflect whether these be the marks of joy and serenity!

How many poor and struggling creatures view with loathing envy the glittering profusion which is denied to them! Here a pale and sickly artizan toils to complete the splendid toy which