towards her could scarcely be called love, yet they were of that nature, which often leads to the passion: besides, she loved him; and one of two consequences always ensueseither, love begets love, or disgust; and Captain Danesford sincerely hoped the former might be the case in the present instance. But Frederick Clermont, either to ascertain the nature of his own thoughts, or have his wishes confirmed, went on to say,

"No, Danesford! she does not love me. No one, except your own kindly self, ever cared for me."

"Nevertheless, it is my opinon, Frederick, that if you remain both of you much longer together, you will soon come to an understanding. I heartily wish this may be the case; do not pine after your early fancy, it is weak, it is unmanly to do so. You were as worthy of that first object of your boyish flame, as truth, and honour, and love, could render you: and since Miss Herbert scorned you then, because you were not of the gay, glittering tribe of coxcombs by which she was surrounded; why, you ought at once to have expunged her from your heart; but since then, Clermont, you know an impassable gulf is placed between you-be more of a man, forget her."

"Enough of this! enough for the present! Say no more— let the past be buried; the least reference to it distracts me."

"Good night to you, Frederick; time will prove who loves and who does not love."

"Good night, Danesford," and the friends parted.

Frederick Clermont had long meditated writing a letter to his sister, and before he went to bed that night, he fulfilled his intention. It was a letter of such perfect uprightness of character and intention; it contained such appalling truths, and conveyed so much of sorrowful affection, that if any thing could reclaim a fallen woman, that letter was calculated to do so. He felt relieved after he had executed the task. He made a calm but sorrowful review of his whole life, and he felt at peace with God and man. Frederick Clermont lay down that night with an unburdened conscience, and he was soon as sound asleep as the rest of the crew on board the Zephir; but, awful to relate, it was a sleep from which they were to awake no more in this world.

When, some of the herring-fishers returned early the next morning from their night's fishing, they beheld with hor

vor and astonishment, the blackened skeleton of the stately vessel which they had passed in all its glory the preceding evening, and a light body of smoke rising from the remnant of what had been a few hours before one of the most gors geous trophies of mortal ingenuity. In a moment, the little herring fleet set up a loud wail of horror, and as they circled round the spars of the hull of that doomed ship, they saw at one glance, that not one living sout remained to tell the terrible tale-every living thing had perished in the tremendous conflagration; but as they moved round and round the awful remnant of what had been a ship, they observed a small cask floating on the surface of the waters; they took it up, and found in it some papers wrapped round with oilskins; they were directed to Miss Clermont, to the care of Lord de Montmorenci, Street, London. On the first tidings of the awful catastrophe, to the peaceful inhabitants of Tarbet, a general lamentation was raised. "Oh! the wo to think," as many said; that they puir bodies should have been sae near help, and yet no hand to be put out for them; it seemed as though the Lord willed that they should perish-eh, they must hae been unco wicked folk" haud yur tongue, lassie, remember the Tower o' Siloam; we mayna judge-och hone! but it was a fearsome judgment ony how."" The captain was a kindly man," said an old woman, "and the widow woman on board said so, a cruel fate she and her babe have met with; eh, sirs!. and to think o' us all sleeping sound in our beds; is it na a wonderfu' thing that no cry was heard for help?-weel a weel, it's an awsome doom."

"Weel a weel, theyre troubles are over, let us hope they have found mercy-perhaps they closed their eyes in sleep here, to open them to everlasting day-let us remember, to die is gain, weel a wat," shrugging his shoulders from side to side, "it's a fearsome thing to be broiled like a herring, any how," said a half-witted boy.

"Jemmie, my dear, let it be a caution to ye, never mair to carry kindled peats about the house as ye are often doing-fire is soon lit, but wha'll put out the flames? Remember, we munna question God's will, though certes, we may sorrow; wha can say aught to this dispensation? we maun bow down and pray."

The Scotch peasantry are well known to be, in the mass, a well instructed, pious people; their observations on this. event were befitting its tremendous nature, and might have

effected greater good to the hearer, than many a more courtly or refined colloquy on similar scenes of horror; for their judgment was resolved into resignation to God's will: they knew nought of the persons who had perished, neither of the sorrows of Frederick Clermont, or of his friend, neither of the widow or her babe, nor of the blessed peace of that rest with which Frederick Clermont had closed his eyes that night, nor of the crew which made up the complement of the vessel; but they one and all sorrowed as though they had known them well; for such events, heard at a distance, or in the bustle of a city, dreadful as they are, do not produce the same effect as when they occur in the immediate vicinage, and that leisure and quietude stamps. their impression ineffaceably on the mind. Such was the impression which the burning of the Zephir made on the inhabitants of this retired spot of the world. One circumstance perplexed them greatly; they knew nothing of the vessel except her name, which had been seen by some of the fishermen, nor who were on board, nor the place whither she was bound. And the good people were filled with concern, to know how to break the tidings to their friends; but bad news flies swiftly, and in a few days the burning of the Zephir was in all the newspapers, so that in a short time every soul connected with that unfortunate crew was apprized of their fate. The papers had been forwarded according to their direction, and reached their destination.. Thus perished the brave and noble hearted Captain Danesford, and his friend.

Did they deserve such a cruel death? It seemed a hard decree; the finite understanding of man could not reconcile it with justice and mercy, while the guilty were biding safe in the high places of the earth; yet, He who gave the elements permission to destroy, is not less a just God of. loving-kindness, and long-suffering, because man does not see beyond this his limited sphere.

"If, under similar trials of faith, the Christian can realize his belief in the silencing of his reason, he triumphs over the most dangerous weapon of the enemy of souls.

CHAPTER XV.

What tygre, or what other savage wight,

Is so exceeding furious and fell,

As wrong, when it hath armed itselfe with might?
Not fit 'mongst men that doe with reason swell,
But 'mongst wild beasts, and savage woods to dwell,
Where still the stronger doth the weake devoure,
And they that most in boldnesse doe excell
Are dreaded most, and feared for their power.

SPENCER'S FAIRY QUEEN, canto ix.

MISS CLERMONT is sitting in the splendid library of a splendid mansion in Hamilton Place, where she received her morning visiters. Her beauty is but little impaired, but it has changed its character; and the once timid and delicate expression is converted into an assumed smile, which assorts ill with the bold, unblushing forehead, and staring eye. Books, ancient and modern, not only fill the presses which surround the walls, but lie in apparent confusion on many of the tables, in curious and richly decorated bindings. Mingled with these are notes, letters, manuscripts; contributions from the pens of poets, politicians, travellers, and the fashionable men of the day, who never write except to a lady, or for an annual: besides these, there may be seen the little square well-filled envelopes, containing confidential communications from foreign statesmen, wily princes, who seek to know from the spy on her own country and its private societies, what few can know except such an Aspasia were to divulge their secrets to them. There, too, lay the obsequious petition of some humble aspirant to literary fame, courting her support, her encouragement. And besides these, there were heaps of introductory letters, recommending to Miss Clermont's attention and courtesy the distinguished bearers of them. And milliners, requesting to be allowed to call a cap à-la Clermont.. A painter, imploring to be permitted.

to sketch, merely to sketch the graceful outline of her figure. Nor was there wanting, amidst this mass of homage, the mendicant's expressed gratitude for Miss Clermont's beneficent charity. But it were vain to enumerate separately and in detail, the endless store of adulatory matter which greeted her in every shape, and from every class of persons.-Her, who was in fact-a murderess-a false friend-a woman of sin! Yes, Miss Clermont sat enthroned, as it were, on a royal seat of power.-Ay even so; for true it is, the wicked come in no misfortune like "other folk:" they seem to soar over the heads of the multitude-above the storms of life; but oh, how suddenly do they fall, and perish, and come to a fearful end!

Miss Clermont had become immensely wealthy; a distant relation left her a princely fortune, and every thing that gold can buy was at her command. Most persons think there is nothing it cannot buy. Miss Clermont felt otherwise; she knew that happiness was not the slave of gold: but she kept her knowledge secret, and many envied her, many who ought to have known better; and many even sought her in marriage; and some professed to believe her an immaculate person, while others declared that she was not worse than her neighbours, and that she was so clever and so charitable, it covered a multitude of sins.

But, to return from a long digression, and take up the thread of this narrative. Be it remembered, Miss Clermont is sitting in the splendid library of a splendid man-sion, in Hamilton Place, on the morning, or rather noon, of the day on which the cask which had been saved from the wreck of the Zephir arrived at its destination. The accustomed pile of notes, petitions, and introductory mis-. sives, had been examined and disposed of, the newspaper was in her hand. A servant entered the room, bringing in a small rudely-fashioned cask..

"What have you there, Harris?"

"It looks, madam, like a barrel for oysters, but it is too light for that," said the footman; "but it is a queer-looking concern, I would have opened it below-stairs, only Lord de Montmorenci's servant bade me deliver it, as it is, into your hands, ma'am."

Miss Clermont started at the name,-drew the cask near her, looked at a card fastened to it, which contained a direction. She knew the handwriting well. She had