quite, for the lady goes out at the first ferry. That's true-Bill, hoist the tatterdemalion; we are within half-a-mile of the coble."

At this moment, the subject of our conversation came on deck, to inquire about the ferry; and, on being informed that she was within a few minutes of it, she prepared for her departure. 1, therefore, was nonplussed.

By and by, far away on the Fife shore, the ferry-boat, hailed by the flag which Bill had hoisted, was seen to make for our vessel. As it drew near, it turned out to be a wretched coble, little larger than a washing-tub, manned by a single stiff old fisherman, with the addition of a boy, who seemed fully occupied in scooping out the water that gurgled through its rotten leaks. I had no reason to be satisfied at the appearance of this ferry-boat, so called; for although not stormy or squally the firth was considerably troubled, and the waves large enough to have overwhelmed a much larger and better-conditioned yawl. I looked at the cause of my solicitude, but not the slightest anxiety shaded her clear brow. Scarcely, however, had the poor girl entered the coble-scarcely had it cleared twenty yards of us-when some clumsy wave, or more clumsy manœuvre, overturned it, and she, with the fisherman and boy, were precipitated into the water. In a moment, I was also over head and ears, and, in a few more seconds, I had succeeded in seizing her by the waist, and was making manfully back to the steam-boat, when something grasped my heel, and down I went -down, with my precious burden, to the bottom. I was an experienced swimmer, and did not lose my recollection all at once. I knew it must be the old fisherman who held me, and, in despairing rage, I endeavoured to kick him on the forehead; but his grasp was deadly, and even in the roar and suffocation of the waters, I felt it to be so. At the same time, (so deeply conscious was I of all that was passing) I unloosed my hold of the lady, to give her a chance of being saved, but she held by me with agonizing energy. Then the indescribable, but most vivid, feeling of DEATH, shivered through my frame, and, as if coming from eternity, the voice of waters howled in my ears, louder, ten thousand times, than the loudest cataract which I had ever heard. I remember no more. Whether was it, I wonder, while lying at the bottom of the firth, or while surrounded by a crowd busy in restoring animation, that I lived over again, in shadowy dreams, the days of infancy and childhood-that I loitered on solitary knowes under an endless sunshine, gathering gowans and digging little caves-that I knelt at my mother's knee, and, with my head in her lap, repeated my evening prayer-that I lay down and fell asleep with my arms around little brothers and sisters, long ago dead ;-whether were such things, I

wonder, glimpses of futurity, or but the feeble visions of returning vitality?

I opened my eyes in a strange bed, a strange room, and numberless strange faces gazing at me. By degrees I became acquainted with my situation. The sailors of the steam-boat had succeeded in dragging us up, and had put us ashore, where every attention was paid towards restoring us. With the fisherman, who was found clinging to my leg, all efforts had been fruitless, but the lady had recovered a full hour before me. She lay in an adjoining room. An express had been despatched for her father, whose seat lay at several miles distance, and who was expected momently. She was an only child, and had not recovered when the messenger went off. This, and much more, was told me by the women with female volubility; for, weak, and sick, and weary of their assiduous rubbings and doctorings, wishing to die in peace if they would but let me alone, they perceived, with the tact of their sex, that their intelligence reconciled me to their attentions, and they accordingly gave me a full and particular account, genealogical and chronological, historical, biographical, and anecdotical, of the lady and all her relations and ancestors, direct and collateral, for five hundred years back.

66

In the midst of this, the fierce rattle of a carriage was heard, and in stalked a military gentleman. His look was agitated, but he was not flurried. "O, colonel, your dochter is weel-better-recovered-quite weel-in the ither room-wearying to see you!" shouted every voice, with kind eagerness. The intelligence did not unman him, but he sat down on a chair in perfect feebleness, and the room was, for a short period, silent as death. This, sir, is the gentleman that tried to save her," said, at length, the officious landlady. He rose, took my hand, and said, in a deep whisper, "Sir, I am obliged." I felt it worth a thousand thanks, In about two hours, the lady was on her feet; and the carriage was drawn up to take her home. I, on the contrary, could not On ascertaining this, the colonel said he would send the carriage for me in the morning, when he hoped I would be able to come and stay with him till I was quite recovered. I promised, but I believed at the time I would never get better. On going away, I heard a voice in the passage say, "Jane, you must thank the gentleman who endangered his life for you." She came to the bedside, pale, but beautiful as ever-took my hand, and said (the words and manner the same!) "Sir, I am obliged." I could say nothing-but I pressed my lips on her hand. She did not take it away discomposedly; and sometimes, afterwards, when I was in

move.

clined to wonder at my presumption, that circumstance assured me that I did just what I should have done.

A long deep sleep recovered me, notwithstanding my gloomy prognostication. In the morning, save a little weakness, I was well; and I felt disinclined to take advantage of the colonel's invitation. The attempt I had made to save his daughter, though but an act of the commonest humanity, placed him in a manner under the necessity of treating me with extraordinary civility-and with that impression, I could not reconcile myself to the thought of paying him a visit. In a word, I happened to be more than usually poor at the time, and therefore more than usually proud, so, when the carriage came for me, instead of stepping into it, I sent the colonel a card, expressing my great satisfaction at the intelligence which his servant had brought of the lady's entire recovery— stating my own recovery-and regretting that urgent business prevented me from waiting upon him at this time, but assuring him that, whenever circumstances led me again to this quarter of the country, I should certainly do myself that honour. This card I gave the coachman, and before midday found myself on the other side of the Forth, toiling up Leith Walk.

This happened early in spring, as I said. "In autumn I revisited the spot." A very slight matter of business was sufficient to take me back again; for, during the long summer, I had been full of restless wishes to see, once more, her who had come to my bedside, and spoken the few words which I have recorded, in a voice of sweetness which, alas! can never be recorded. The same reason, it is true, which prevented me at first from visiting her father, still subsisted, and indeed was strengthened by time; for the longer I staid away, the more impertinent, of course, would be my intrusion. But there had, by this time, gathered within me feelings of affection and curiosity towards and regarding my former fellow-sufferer, too powerful to be resisted by a delicacy rather fastidious perhaps, after all, than well-grounded; and, relying on my own discretion in fitting my conduct to my reception, I resolved in good earnest, since I was again on the spot, to call on the colonel and his daughter. His house I found to be a fine old mansion-of no distinct order, indeed, or uniform dimensions,---neither cotified nor castelated, but bearing, nevertheless, an appearance of elegant comfort and substantial antiquity; in point of fact, constructed and situated just (very nearly) as I would choose to fancy, were I purchasing a country seat, or writing a fictitious narrative. An avenue of old but thinly-planted trees led to the front, and on one side lay a garden arranged and disposed seemingly after the old English taste, with parterres curiously laid out, and trees still more curi

ously cropped into what were called the shapes of Adams, Eves, and peacocks. As I drew near the door, a conflicting tide of sensations beat in my breast; but one, I remember, was stronger than all the rest, and that one arose from the certainty of being, in a few minutes, in the presence of a creature whom I had long worshipped in silent and unknown adoration, but of whom could scarcely think otherwise than as ideal, so brief and dreamlike had my former connexion with her been.

An old man, in black livery, opened the door. The colonel was at home. I was shown into a spacious parlour, and in a short time was shaking hands with the good old gentleman. His reception of me was not quite what I had anticipated. I thought I perceived an uneasy formality, bordering on dryness, in his manner; and he made not the slightest allusion to the circumstance by which we had become acquainted. Alas, how little I knew what was labouring in his breast! He conducted me to his library, where (it being midday) he ordered soup. A deep quiet reigned throughout the whole house, and the visage of the waiting-man was to the last degree solemn.

Our talk was of the common occurrences of the day-brief and disjointed. I momently expected him to speak of his daughter, who should, in ordinary politeness, have been the first object of my inquiry, if I could, at first, have summoned courage sufficient to mention her name; but he was silent respecting her, and even seemed to avoid any discourse that might tend to make her the subject of conversation. At length, when the serving-man had withdrawn, instigated by a strong feeling of propriety as much as any thing else, I did, in an unlucky moment, venture to hope that she was well :—and however innocent in the matter, never shall I cease to regret the deep sting of affliction which, by doing so, I was the means of inflicting. The forced formality, which had hitherto supported him under the distressing recollections which my presence must have awakened, gave way at once to my unfortunate inquiry; the pride of manhood and station yielded to the cry of a bereaved parent; and, from a voice choking with irrepressible anguish, I learned the fatal truth, that Jane was gone-dead-buried! She had never entirely recovered from the accident, but was seized before midsummer by a rapid consumption, which carried her off in less than three months. Her broken-hearted father now sleeps by her side. A mourning ring, containing a locket of her hair, is the only memorial I hold of one whose fate was, for a short period, so distressingly linked with mine; and sometimes, looking at it, and thinking of her sad and early end, I have wished I had never been taken from the deep sea.

W

LADY BETTY'S POCKET-BOOK.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE LOVERS' QUARRELS."

Into it, Knight, thou must not look.-SCOTT.

I PASSED my five-and-twentieth birth-day at Oakenshade. Sweet sentimental age! Dear, deeply-regretted place: Oakenshade is the fairest child of Father Thames, from Gloucestershire to Blackwall. She is the very queen of cottages, for she has fourteen best bed rooms, and stabling for a squadron. Her trees are the finest in Europe, and her inhabitants the fairest in the world. Her old mistress is the Lady Bountiful of the country, and her young mistresses are its pride. Lady Barbara is black-eyed and hyacinthine, Lady Betty blue-eyed and Madonna-like.

In situations of this kind it is absolutely necessary for a man to fall in love, and in due compliance with the established custom, 1 fell in love both with Lady Betty and Lady Barbara. Now Barbara was a soft-hearted, high-minded rogue, and pretended, as I thought, not to care for me, that she might not interfere with the interests of her sister; and Betty was a reckless, giddy-witted baggage, who cared for nobody and nothing upon earth, except the delightful occupation of doing what she pleased. Accordingly, we became the Romeo and Juliet of the place, excepting that I never could sigh, and she never could apostrophize. Nevertheless, we loved terribly. Oh, what a time was that! I will just give a sample of a day.-We rose at seven (it was July), and wandered amongst moss roses, velvet lawns, and sequestered summer-houses, till the lady-mother summoned us to the breakfast-table. I know not how it was, but the footman on these occasions always found dear Barbara absent on a butterfly chase, gathering flowers, or feeding her pet robin, and Betty and myself on a sweet honeysuckle seat, just large enough to hold two, and hidden round a happy corner as snug as a bird's nest. The moment the villain came within hearing, I used to begin, in an audible voice, to discourse upon the beauties of nature, and Betty allowed me to be the best moral philosopher of the age. After breakfast we used to retire to the young ladies' study, in which blest retreat I filled some hundred pages of their albums, whilst Betty looked over my shoulder, and Barbara hammered with all her might upon the grand piano, that we might not be afraid to talk. I was acknowledged to be the prince of poets and riddle-mongers, and in the graphic art I was a prodigy perfectly unrivalled. Sans doute, I was a little overrated. My riddles were so plain, and my metaphors so puzzling-and