rector and apothecary, and two or three quiet country neighbours, to modernize her aunt's antiquated description of her own times.

Like other

girls of her age, she next wished, that as she was separated from her dear. and only friend, the horses had taken the road to London; but her sorrow in leaving Lady Selina, was at last absorbed by painful conjectures respecting the manner in which she should spend her time among stran : gers, and in a sumptuous style of living to which she was quite unaccustomed. She had gained a few particulars of her guardian's character from her brother his own letter confirmed the impression of singularity; and Lady Selina's parting precepts, conjuring her to be assiduously attentive, seemed to intimate that the task was difficult. She had hitherto pleased every body, but it was without any studied effort,

and she greatly feared that her powers of fascination were not so inherent as to exempt her from the awkwardness of forced exertion. Again she wished the summer over, and as her aunt had hinted that her introduction to the great world must take place the ensuing winter, her anticipation of the unknown delights of London made her still more indifferent to catch the first glance of the turrets of Mandeville castle.

CHAP. II.

High rising in baronial pride,
Near a swift river deep and wide,
With battlements and turrets crown'd,
The castle in stern grandeur frown'd.
It stood upon a wooded hill

Shelter'd from tempests strong and chill,
Grey were its mossy walls, yet time
Had spar'd the pomp of early prime;
And the arch'd gate and stately tower,
Could still a stern defiance lower,
Had not a mild and peaceful age
Benumb'd the arm of feudal rage.

Yet tho' around the martial keep
Thick clematis and ivy creep,

And where the archers stood in rows,

Profuse th' untrodden wall-flower blows.

This lofty fabric still retains

The homage of the native swains;

And they whose sires were wont to arm,
When its red beacons gave alarm,
Now with pure hearts, contrite and meek,
The solace of its chapel seek.

Or at its owner's friendly call
Joyous frequent the crowded hall:
For duly at each holy time

The bells were rung in solemn chime,
And still the village poor were fed,
The social banquet still was spread.
And as the tale or jest went round,
His honour's health the goblet crown'd
Hoping the line would ne'er run out,
And next year's cyder be as stout.

MANUSCRIPT.

WHEN Emily's carriage had passed the avenue leading to the castle, the decrepid owner, dressed in his Kevenhuller hat and scarlet roquelaure, advanced to the porter's ward to meet his trembling visitor. He first, with somewhat of an alarmed aspect, inquired after Lady Selina's health, and being assured that it was too delicate to permit her to undertake a long journey, he pressed Emily's hand affectionate. ly, told her she was a good girl to come by herself, and led her through

a double line of servants dressed in state liveries, to a spacious, but illfurnished saloon. Here he presented her to a lady clad in the deepest sables, whom he announced by the name of Lady Mackintosh, of Dunswood, by whose discreet conduct and amiable manners, he wished Emily to form her own behaviour. Though the young lady did not remember this name among the number of those with whom her aunt wished her to be intimate; the presence of a female companion was a wonderful relief to her mind, and she returned her ladyship's embrace with a warmth almost equally affectionate; but she found herself very deficient in volubility when she attempted to express, with the same rapture as Lady Mackintosh had evinced, the ecstasy she felt at this interview, and her conviction that it was the commencement of a permanent friendship.