kind friends were duly apprized of my arrival, and they looked for it with all the eager anxiety which my waning health occasioned. Here I found no alterationnone whatever. I arrived about two months ago, when all this magnificent scenery was glowing in the splendour of an early summer. I visited all my old haunts, and having done so, found that the angel of death had stricken me, and that my doom was decided.

"I anticipate your inquiry-how did I find Mary disposed towards me, and how was I disposed towards her? I will tell you.

"It was no use now to conceal our mutual love, nor did we. Upbraidings, mild and sorrowful, fell from poor Mary's lips; but I saw that she could not but admire what she termed my fastidious heroism. However, they all believe my doom to be sealed, and each, as you see, vies with the other in displaying their kindness, and even affection for me.

"So far then, I am happy; with Mary,

but for my unhappy birth, I could have been far happier, but fate has forbidden it, and all that is now left me, is to die, I hope, in peace with all the world."

And so he did die, and death came to him calmly and sweetly as an infant's slumber. I have already intimated that I attended his funeral, but I forgot to mention a striking proof of poor Mary's unhappy love. On the evening of the funeral, I strolled towards the little churchyard, where my poor friend lay buried, and when I reached the gate, I saw a female in deep mourning planting flowers over the newly-made grave. I saw that it was Mary, and retired unperceived.

THE

FORAYER OF FLINTSHIRE.

His joy was in the foray-in the fight-
The nightly rescue and the plundered hall;
To drive the lowing cattle from the stall,
And fire the hostile roof 'mid dreary night :
His is a lawless life, that holds in thrall

All that we deem of conscience, or of right;
That rushes down the stream of passion's course,
And sinks within the whirpool of remorse.

The Forayer.

THE

FORAYER OF FLINTSHIRE.

THE period which followed Owain Glyndwr's abortive attempt to free his country from the yoke of England, although one of gloom and anarchy, was replete with interesting events and turbulent commotion. The stoutest heart and the strongest hand carried the day, and feuds and forays were the pastimes of the people. In so disturbed a state was the principality at this time, that is, during the fifteenth century, that no gentleman or yeoman dared to venture abroad unarmed or unguarded." Questioning with my uncle," says sir John Wynn, the venerable historian of Gwedir," what should move him to demolish an old church which stood in