seemed instinct with the subdued joy of passive existence-shall I forget it?

But a truce to rhapsody, which when the fit is over strikes me as very inane stuff. I crossed Lake Champlain in the night-time-gazed on the British encampment of Isle aux Noyes at sunriselanded soon afterwards at the little Canadian town of St. Johnsand before evening was safely deposited at Goodenough's Hotel in Montreal. I did not remain here long. That same night I em. barked on board the noble steamboat St. George for Quebec; and when I issued suddenly from the cabin the next day about noon, behold! we were overshadowed by Cape Diamond, which rose with its impregnable battlements like an exhalation from the edge of the river. The effect was decidedly melodramatic.

CHAPTER II.

It was the third day of my residence in Quebec, and one of those balmy, sunshiny days with blue skies and soft airs, when the man, who does not instinctively bless his Creator, has no music in his soul. I hired a calèche, and rode to the Falls of Montmorenci. My first view of the cascade was from the platform on the right side before crossing the bridge. From this height the effect is grand and imposing, and it makes the brain giddy to look down upon the foaming abyss, where the precipitated waters strike upon the jagged rocks, rolling up a cloud of fine white mist, on whose front a rainbow coronet is set by the sunshine. The falls of Montmorenci are higher by seventy feet than Niagara, but they are much narrower, and the volume of water that sweeps over is of course vastly inferior. Near the foot of the cataract, the whole foam of the falling waters appears to meet like drifting snow, and forming two immense revolving wheels, to be scattered thence into spray or sent lashed into froth over the bed of the torrent.

Crossing the bridge, I hastened to take a view of the falls from the opposite side; and here the smooth bold sweep of the river, and the terrific plunge of its waters over the precipice, may be seen to great advantage. "The torrent's smoothness ere it dash below" is no where more beautifully exemplified.

The path to the foot of the falls is extremely steep and precipitous; and as there are few bushes or shrubs to break your descent, ten chances to one, if you have the temerity to make the attempt, you will pitch down the declivity head over heels into the river. By dint of great precaution I descended in safety-got drenched

with the fine piercing spray which is scattered from the cauldron of foaming waters, and then undertook to return

"Sed revocare gradum !"

It was in climbing the heights of Montmorenci that I met with the adventure which was destined to be a memorable event in my existence. I had accomplished two thirds of the ascent, and was resting, with one foot upon a small projecting stone, and the other thrust into the earth, while with my left hand I grasped a clump of stout looking grass, when I heard a scream, and looking up, beheld a young lady, who, upon my veracity, was the most beautiful being I ever saw, endeavouring in vain to stop herself from being precipitated down the declivity. Behind her was a middle aged gentleman, who I concluded was her father, making an ineffectual attempt to render her assistance. Down she came, and she looked to me like an angel of light descending from the clouds. She was dressed in a simple nankin riding habit, trimmed with green, (I recollect it as well as if it were yesterday ;) and had on a light straw bonnet, which the wind had thrown back upon her shoulders-rather an odd costume for an angel, but at the same time not an unbecoming one.

What was I to do? It was very evident that if I remained in the position in which I stood, I should be directly in her way; and then the shock of collision might be severe to both parties. But if I did not render her some assistance she would in all probability have her brains dashed out, or be hurled into the river, or be bruised and disfigured in some way. But how could I help her? My footing seemed so unstable, that a feather wafted against me might send me reeling down the hill. How then could I sustain the threatened collision?

I had not much time for reflection. I braced myself as firmly as I could upon the shelving ground, twined my left hand about the clump of grass which supported me, and then with my right arm outstretched, gallantly awaited the descent of the fair creature in the nankin riding habit trimmed with green. Down she came, and I shut my eyes close, as I have seen people do when pulling the trigger of a gun pretty heavily charged. The next instant the shock was received, and it quivered through me like electricity. Two arms were thrown rather impetuously over my shoulders, a cloud of dark tresses brushed my cheek, and a gentle heart was pressed throbbing audibly against mine. My equilibrium was mar. vellously preserved. I stood the shock manfully. Like a frightened dove the lady rested panting upon my shoulder. She trembled in every limb, and was half sinking upon her knees. Her black clus

tering curls were in awful contrast with the marble pallor of her forehead and cheek. It was with difficulty I could uphold her from falling. For about a minute-yes, a whole minute-we remained in this situation without speaking a word, and I could have been contented to continue in the same position for some minutes longer; but unfortunately the treacherous clump of grass, by which our weights were sustained, began to show symptoms of giving way. It was being deracinated by inches. I gently directed the lady's attention to the fact. She started, looked upon me for a moment a little wildly, and then recovering herself, bent upon me a smile which I shall remember to my dying day. It was so appealingly eloquent of gratitude, confusion, apprehension, and a thousand nameless and flitting emotions, that I gazed into her face as if I were scanning the features of some gorgeous and diversified landscape, the right of which I was to enjoy but for a moment.

She spoke, and I roused myself as if from a trance.

"Shall we not make an effort to ascend? I believe I have recovered from my ridiculous fright?"

She attempted to move upward, but her strength was as yet unequal to the effort; and so, with my arm about her waist, half lifting and half dragging her, we climbed the acclivity. As a faithful chronicler, I must confess that I was unnecessarily long in getting to the top; but then I expressed so much apprehension lest she should fatigue herself, and enjoined the necessity of so much caution in stepping, that she seemed reconciled to the delay. Her father received her at the top of the height, and kissing her, led her to the trunk of an overthrown tree, and directed her to sit down. He then approached me, grasped my hand in both of his, and expressed his acknowledgments in a manner so cordial and heartfelt, that he almost persuaded me into the belief that I had performed an act, which, to say the least, would entitle me to receive a gold medal from the Humane Society.

We exchanged cards: his bore the words, "Mr. Tarleton, of Georgia;" and mine told him that I rejoiced in the name of "Horace Berkely."

"Berkely? Berkely?" muttered Mr. Tarleton in an interrogatory tone. "Any relation to the Berkelys of Albany ?"

"A branch of the family is, I believe, settled there, but I am from Boston."

"And your father's name was-?"

"And her maiden name was- -?"

"Emily Clare."

"Ah, yes!" exclaimed Mr. Tarleton, taking off his hat, and turning his forehead to the cool breeze-" Emily Clare! sweet, sweet Emily Clare!"

"Tell me," he said, grasping my hand, and half averting his face, "tell me, does your mother live?"

“Alas, sir, I have been an orphan these ten years.'

Mr. Tarleton dropped my hand-walked a few paces ahead of me-and taking up a pebble, pretended all at once to be absorbed in taking a fatal aim at a little sparrow which was hopping about a few rods distant.

He suddenly turned however, threw the pebble in an opposite di rection, and coming back to the spot where I stood, smiled faintly, and said "Horace Berkely, you should have been my son."

"Sir?"

"Yes, I mean what I say. Hear me, and then tell me if you are at all surprised at the emotion which I apprehend I have betrayed at this eclaircissement. Your mother was my first love; I was her first suitor. We met some twenty-five years ago at Balti

more.

She was a radiant creature. I haunted her for weeks like her shadow. At last a promise of marriage was exchanged between us, and we mutually agreed to keep our engagement a secret. She was seventeen, and I but a few years older. The death of my father recalled me to Georgia. We parted-Emily and I-with the customary promises of fidelity. I assured her I would return in a month. It is an old story, and often repeated. Circumstances forbade the fulfilment of my promise. I wrote often, but learnt afterwards that my letters did not reach her. I was compelled to sail for Europe without seeing her. I could not return till the close of the war with England.

"On arriving in New-York, after an absence of two years, a friend casually informed me that Miss Clare was engaged to a Mr. Berkely. I believe I did not turn pale or assume a tragic stare on hearing this agreeable news. That hope deferred, which maketh the heart sick, had too long been my portion, and I had acquired a mastery over my feelings. I simply asked, 'Is he a good fellow that she is engaged to?' and satisfied with the hearty reply in the affirmative, I made no more inquiries respecting her.

"On reaching Baltimore I resolved upon calling on Miss Clare, and congratulating her on her prospects. I was not heartless, but piqued; and I wished to appear to her as magnanimous and as little concerned as possible. I arrayed myself with care, and sallied forth to see her. She was not at home, and I left my card. The next

evening I again called. She was at home. I was ushered into the parlour. Miss Clare would be down in a minute. I walked to the mirror, and as I took off my gloves and threw them upon the pier table, I saw the opposite door opened, and a figure enter which I immediately recognized for your mother. Her forefinger was on her lips-she looked very pale but very beautiful-and as she faltered in her steps, she seemed to be gathering strength for a painful interview. I turned and advanced to meet her

"Oh Horace I had-heard-th-th-that you had arrived. I am very-very glad to see you.'

"Her eyes filled with tears. I was determined not to betray any emotion, and taking her hand with Parisian gallantry, I remarked, that 'it was indeed flattering to find that Miss Clare had not quite forgotten me after so long an absence.'

6

"We sat down on the sofa. I conversed with infinite pleasantrytold Emily a variety of odd adventures which had befallen me-and after making myself unusually agreeable, I broke out with: By the way, Miss Clare, they tell me you are engaged. Est-il vrai? Every body says it is a fact.'

"She bent her dark eyes on me for a moment with a look of pathetic and mournful surprise; and then in low accents replied, 'What every body says must be true.' I rattled on in the most reckless manner imaginable, as boys whistle in passing through a grave-yard to conceal their terror. In the course of my extravagance I made her promise to name her first boy after me; and assured her, if ever I had a daughter, she should be christened Emily. I rose to take my leave. The next morning I was to depart for Georgia, not to return north again for years.

"I took my hat, and with cool formality said,Good evening, Miss Clare.'

"She followed me into the entry. I opened the street door. I turned to take a last look. She was actually sobbing with grief, and her face was buried in both her hands. I walked back towards her. I took her hand in mine; I parted the dark curls from her forehead; I implanted one fervent kiss upon her lips, and exclaimed, Dearest! farewell for ever; you will never see me more. God bless you!' I left her, and she sunk almost prostrate upon the stairs. I darted from the house, and never saw her more! But it seems that neither of us forgot our promise."

There was an awkward pause of nearly a minute after Mr. Tarleton had finished his story. He passed his handkerchief hurriedly across his eyes, and then apologizing for holding me by the button so long with a love-sick tale, he said, “Come, Horace, let me introduce you to my daughter Emily. See-she is lashing the