THE BURNING SHIP. “A dismal heat, foreboding death, We were both born in the same village, and drew our nourishment from the same source in infancy. Yes, we have lain encircled in each other's arms in the same cradle, and fond affection grew with our growth. But ah! how different were our conditions in life;—she the offspring of one who could boast of rank and wealth, whilst I was brought forth in comparative obscurity and poverty. Agnes was the daughter of a baronet, to whom my father was head gardener; her mother resigned her existence in giving birth to her child, and the first tears of the infant were shed upon the cold inanimate bosom of that being to whom she was indebted for her life. My maternal parent having been confined about the same time, was selected as wet-nurse on account of her excellent health and gentleness of disposition, and the little Agnes was removed to our cottage, which was surrounded by a shrubbery tastefully laid out, and situated in the most delightful and romantic part of the grounds. Sir Edward Melville was generous, and even condescending, to his inferiors, as long as they preserved an unqualified respect for his dignified rank; but if any one aimed at superior station, or failed in due reverence to himself, he became vindictive and revengeful. His principles were of so aristocratic a nature, that he considered it an ordination of divine authority for riches and titles to rule, and for humble obscurity to be content with tacit submission. Soon after the decease of his lady, he was appointed envoy to a foreign court, and a maiden aunt officiated as mistress at the castle during his absence; but the pride and malice of her heart rendered her hated and feared by all around her, and it was only at the cottage of her nurse in which Agnes always found an affectionate bosom as a depository for her griefs, and where the soothings of tenderness were ever ready to calm the perturbation of her mind. It is impossible to define the feelings of childhood, for, as we grow more advanced in years, the softer sympathies become deadened by intercourse with the world and witnessing the scenes of misery which every where present themselves. Solomon hath said, "Childhood and youth are vanity;" yet what would I not give to possess the same innocence of heart, the same purity of thought which I enjoyed in my early years. In our amusements, Agnes and myself were inseparable; and when removed from the haughty control of her aunt, we indulged in those little endearments which innocence inspires. Although my father's condition in life was humble, he nevertheless possessed a cultivated taste, and was well acquainted with the works of the best writers of the day, his leisure hours being occupied in reading (for through the kindness of the steward, he had free access to Sir Edward's library and could obtain the loan of any book he wanted) and imparting instruction to myself. At the age of six, I could read tolerably well and understand what I read; but no book delighted me so much as the affecting tale of Paul and Virginia, which was my favourite volume, and often has the sweet Agnes mingled her tears with mine while perusing its pages. Agnes had an elder brother, but he seldom associated with us, for his aunt had centred all her regards in him, and instilled into his mind every notion of high birth and exalted parentage. Yet he was not happy; for when he did deign to share our childhood's sports, I can well remember the burst of passion which agitated him if I did not immediately comply with his wishes and submit to his caprice. But the last two years before Sir Edward's return, he had been under the manage ment of a tutor, whose kindness I shall never forget. This worthy and excellent man was also a constant visiter at the cottage whenever his duties would permit, and to his instructions am I indebted for whatever portion of knowledge I possess. When I had attained my eighth year, intelligence arrived of Sir Edward's return to England, and his intention of visiting the castle; yet much as I desired to see the father of Agnes, still I can remember a dejection came upon my spirits, young as I was, and I seemed to dread it as something which foreboded evil. At length he came, and received me with great kindness as the foster-brother of Agnes; but never shall I forget his terrible look, when with the playful familiarity of childhood, the dear girl put her little white arms round. my neck. It was the first time I had ever witnessed such a display of rage, and it left an impression on my mind which time can never efface. I was removed from the castle, and nothing but the persuasions of a nobleman who accompanied him, would have prevented the dismissal of my father from his situation. In a few days afterwards, the baronet with his sister and children went to the metropolis, and four years elapsed before we met again; but though nothing is sooner erased from the memory of a child than past events, yet the remembrance of the companion who shared our infantine amuse ments seldom quits us through life: and so I found it with Agnes. Since we had parted, I devoted myself assiduously to learning and had made great proficiency in writing and drawing, to the latter of which accomplishments I was particularly attached. Nor was I deficient in athletic exercises, for nothing gave me greater delight than skimming through the liquid element, climbing the lofty mountain, or breaking through the thick mazes of the forest. The scenery in Paul and Virginia raised a desire in my mind to imitate the former, and often have I ascended the highest tree, sitting for hours on its topmost branches and gazing towards the road where I had last seen the equipage of Sir Edward disappear. We were now in our twelfth year; the baronet was gone abroad taking his son with him, and Agnes with her aunt, who had married a gouty old colonel, took up their abode at the castle. The colonel was an "Honourable," but the very reverse of his lady or her brother; he was destitute of their pride, and I was frequently permitted to pass whole days at the castle in reading to and amusing him. In these pursuits Agnes was generally at my side when the absence of her aunt allowed it, and I number some of those hours as the happiest of my life. Her instructress was a mild and amiable woman, of Christian meekness and piety; she had drunk deep from the cup of sorrow, and there was a pensive melan |