after a very short acquaintance with it, was anything but what I intended that is, in the leisure it afforded to fortify me in my resolution to forget Bertha. For two days the early morning always found me there, and I could scarce leave it in the late evening; for every murmur of the water-every flower on its margin-and, above all, the sweet freshness of its banks, spoke, looked, and breathed of nothing but Bertha. Had I been wise I should never have visited this spot twice. But I was a fool that is to say, romantic-if romance, which so beguiles us into happiness, is folly. For a few yards the path was beautifully ornamented with an avenue of sycamores, which, from the busy scenes in the city, was now wholly deserted. It suited better on that account with my humour, and was perhaps the principal attraction of the place. At the foot of one of these sycamores (umbratilis arbos) I laid me down,

"Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy,

To meditate my rural minstrelsy,"

of which take the fruits, gentle reader, if only because they so incontestably prove the advance I had made in my cure.

Perhaps that cheek may one day burn
With the same fire that flushes mine.

Then feed on thoughts, my soul, that move
The purest, tenderest desire;

Live on your hope, nor cease to love,
Nor fear to fan the generous fire.

Having finished this effusion, I returned with it to my lodging, far more satisfied, I fear, than if it had been the most profound stoical treatise de contemptu amoris. Here I spread it on my table, in order to give it a last polish, and here I left it, on being called away to speak to my father in the Castleyard, saying I would return in ten minutes. What was my surprise, on my return, to find my room, and my verses too, in possession of Mr. Granville, whose genius for musical composition, and feeling for love-poetry and Petrarch, I have already mentioned.

From his known reputation and connection with York, Mr. Granville had been invited from Oxford to join the amateur concerts to be given during the assize week; and, as his musical compositions had always been admired, had been earnestly requested to favour the undertaking by bringing some of them with him. I have said he was kindly disposed towards me, and, hearing I was at York, had come to visit me, when finding I was expected every minute, he had waited my

return.

He was a little confused at being found with my manuscript in his hand, which he confessed he had read, upon seeing it open for anybody's perusal ; adding, however, by way of additional claim for pardon, that even if he thought he had been doing wrong, he was afraid he could not have desisted, the sentiments being, as he was pleased to say, so much in the very spirit of true and generous love.

"If these verses are yours, " said he, "I can only say, congratulate and envy you too."

I

This from a man, himself so distinguished for his own poetry and musical powers, must have insured his pardon, had the fault not been my own for so carelessly leaving myself open to be read by any straggler in the hotel.

"But do you know," said he, "that your pardon will not content me? The verses are so affecting, that they would

admirably set off affecting music, and I have recently indulged myself in an amatory composition, to suit which I have in vain looked for words. Will you give these to me-that is, allow me to adapt them to the air I have composed? your mistress is like Cowley's, ideal, and merely a theme to exercise your taste for poetry (for I apprehend you are too young for this to be more than imaginary) no harm can be done, and you will essentially oblige me."

If

He then proceeded again to commend the stanzas.

What shall I say? The thought of appearing in public as an author astonished, nay frightened me: but he answered this by saying the author would not be known.

Then if Bertha should ever discover that she was the subject! But that could hardly be, even if the author were known; and if even she applied them (which was scarcely possible), there might perhaps be a melancholy pleasure in thinking that my hopeless passion was not buried in obscurity; and as I meant never to see her again, why the thing would be indifferent. Was I quite sure that it would be so? that I should not be even pleased that she should know how much and with what constancy I had loved her, though all in secrecy, silence, and despair? Were I dying, I thought it might do me good to think she should not be ignorant of this.

Well! after a variety of arguments urged and answered on both sides, Mr. Granville and flattery prevailed; and leaving him to his own impression, that the passion described was imaginary, I allowed him to copy the verses, with which he walked off.

That very day the manuscript composition was announced for the next morning's concert, at which, of course, the whole Hastings party would attend! How can I describe the interest of that moment!

I WAS early in the concert-room, and soon saw the entry of those who alone gave it a charm in my eyes.

From I know not what cause, Charles was not among them, which did not displease me; but Mr. Hastings escorted his daughter and sister, the sheriff's lady, with a daughter, Miss Lucinda Mansell, a pleasing girl, and her odious brother.

Bertha was arrayed in all her loveliness of person and elegance of attire, combining the dignity of a queen with the grace of a nymph; in short, with all that distinction, yet suavity of manner, which attracted the regard and attention of every one, from the highest to the lowest. Accordingly, she was surrounded in a moment by the elite of the gentry at York; while I, at a distance, was more than ever shrunk in my own littleness, and more than ever impressed with my own temerity.

However, the commencement of the concert dissipated these reflections, and left me eager for the performance of the important strain; an eagerness which, from the reputation of Mr. Granville, who was known to have composed the music, and was otherwise so well known at York, seemed to be shared by the audience.

It met with complete success. The melody was so beautiful, that it would have insured favor to any words; but the words themselves had also a share of praise. This 1 found from the remarks of many to whom I sat near, particularly of some young females of prepossessing appearance; though it was chiefly valuable to me for the hope this caused that Bertha might be of the same opinion. From what they said they plainly thought that Mr. Granville was the author of the stan

zas as well as the music. "What a delightful man that Mr. Granville must be !" said these young ladies.

Can I deny my pleasure? But, safely can I say, that it was only or chiefly because it showed it possible that another might think so too, and the verses be approved by her as well as by these strangers. This I thought not unlikely; for the enviable Granville, enrolled in the Hastings' party, was seated next to his lovely relation, who, to the annoyance of her other cousin Mansell, who sat on the other side, gave him all her attention. Nay, it was obvious, for I could see it from my station, that she was complimenting him upon the melody, and perhaps upon the words, thinking them his; for he replied to her animated address with a succession of bows, but also with shakes of the head; the one evidently from acquiescence, the other as evidently from disclaimer.

All this was confirmed to me afterwards by himself, and, on leaving the room, I had the delight not only of receiving an angelic look of kindness from Bertha as she passed, but a direct appeal to my opinion, whether the thought in the new stanzas were not charming? Moreover this was crowned by an observation, that I had not called again upon her father.

I went home, plunged in a sea of delight, and could not sleep that night for joy.

The next day, Mr. Granville called again, and gladdened me by reporting what many, but particularly Bertha, thought of the stanzas. They were pathetic, generous, she said, delicate, and full of devotion, which could scarcely fail, she thought, to win the object of them.

What an agitating recital for me! Granville knew not the flame he was fanning, or the firmness he was undermining in relating this. "Let me tell you, however," said he, "that my honesty underwent no slight trial with my delightful kinswoman, who would have it, spite of my asseverations to the contrary, that I was the author; and concluded, playfully (you know how frank she is), that she was glad that the ver ses were not made upon her, for she should be in danger."

My cheek became instantly all fire at this account, which Mr. Granville, having moved to the window to look at a passing carriage, did not perceive; but I was in still greater danger when he added, "By the way, Miss Hastings thought