my internal curiosity still more. The younger was exceedingly accomplished, and on every subject she conversed with fluency. Without any parade of literary attainments, it was evident she possessed a full and well-stored mind; and the language in which she expressed her sentiments was of that high order for which in these days the better classes of her sex are distinguished. Some few months subsequent to the accouchement, I was hastily summoned to her lodgings, and found her in a fit. Her friend was in a state of intense alarm; and, in justice to the landlady, she was also extremely anxious. Seeing at a glance that her paroxysm was not likely to be of serious import, I first endeavoured to tranquillise those who hung over her in such trepidation. The patient was laid on the sofa; her golden ringlets had escaped their graceful fastenings, and fell in negligent confusion around her face that face so bloodless, deathlike now, and that seemed to say every drop of the crimson current had "returned to its last citadel, the heart." Ever and anon she heaved a deep sigh, then subsided into a still, motionless quietude, like unto that sleep that "knows no waking." Restoratives being applied, more consciousness was apparent. Ere long, in a dreamy and confused state, she opened her wandering eyes, and for a moment looked wildly around, closed them again, and, in a few minutes she sank as before into statuary repose. I requested that the patient might have an uninterrupted slumber. After a time she awoke, and was once more aware of what was passing around her, yet still her senses seemed confused, benumbed, and her soul drooped under her malady. The lightning shock was over; the storm had expended its fury, but the wreck remained; and long, long the tempest left a torpid calm -that after-silence of the heart! In the requisite attendance that followed, it became indisputable that there had been some mental suffering; the haggard look, the nightly watching, and corporeal decline, told there was a rooted sorrow in the brain. Week after week with noiseless pinion sped away, yet without bringing any change for the better. I tried such remedial measures as the case required, yet without benefit; the constant wasting went on, the features became more and more sunken and altered, and it was too manifest that gloomy apprehensions might with good grounds be formed. I suggested that another opinion should be given. I then desired a physician of eminence to meet me. The consultation was held, the prescription agreed to, the medicine long continued, but, alas! without amendment: it was too obvious that in this instance human aid would prove of little avail. Without troubling the reader with a prolix detail of particulars, I will not protract the sequel. Like a lonely and blighted flower, she faded beneath the lightning-stroke of despair-she died! On that bed, on which but a few fleeting weeks before she had given birth to her departed infant, now lay the quiet corpse of its once beautiful mother! Disease and death had verily worked their ravages on her once fair face, the roseate hues had fled, the hollow cheek and sunken eye were there-the ghastly traces of the spoiler's hand! In the course of a few days the funeral took place. On my arrival at the house, two or three respectable neighbours, who had kindly come to pay their respects to the memory of the stranger lady, were seated in the little sitting-room I knew so well. The hearse and a mourning-coach were at the door. All that remained of Mrs. Allen left the house of the living for the home of th dead. The plain oaken coffin, bearing the initials of the deceased's name and the date of her death, was put into the vehicle, and the simple cortège gently moved off to the pretty little village of Colinton. In the secluded churchyard of that retired hamlet the perishing form of the mother was lowered, to mingle with the dust of the infant, so that "in their death they were not divided." One day, subsequently, I received a note desiring me to call at Sailsbury-Street. On doing so, the now lonely lodger burst into an unrestrained flood of tears. After the first ebullition of her fretting had passed, she became more calm, and at length informed me of the deceased's having left a small token of her regard and memory. She then put into my hand a handsome emerald ring, bearing the simple inscription, "From E.A." This treasured relic I yet retain, and often now, though long and obliterating years have fled, do I steadfastly look upon the amulet, and think with a sigh on the donor! She also gave me the following verses which had been written by the deceased not long before her death: STANZAS. The hollow cheek may waste in bitterness, And the heart's pulse subdued grow cold and weak; The tortur'd mem'ry brood o'er its distress, And crush'd affection it in vain may seek To one whose hopes, whose happiness are gone, |