The fire is made up-the hearth as clean as Merran's hands could make it; and a dim glimmer on the opposite wall shows you the little darkcomplexioned mirror, at which Merran has just equipped herself for the fair. The window at the other end of the apartment, with the clean wellscoured deal-table before it, and a wooden chair standing primly on either side, looks cold and remote, and like another apartment; while the arrangements of the rest of the kitchen give you the impression that everybody is out, and that the house is vacant. A great piece of coal, calculated to burn till they all come back, and only surrounded with a border of red, fills the grate; and the cat winks so close to the lowest bar, that you see there can be no great heat on the hearth. The glistening doors of the oak aumrie are closed-every stool, every chair, is in its proper place; and only one sound disturbs the surrounding silence without or within.

A low, humming, musical sound at present somewhat slow and languid -the soft birr of the wheel at which Isabell sits, drawing the fine yarn through her hand, and with her slight figure swaying forward now and then a little, as she turns the wheel with her foot. There is very little colour, very little light in her face, as she droops it, with a melancholy grace, over her graceful work. You can discern, at first, that there is anything living at all in the apartment, only by the soft lulling sound of the wheel; and so she knows the pain in her heart only by the murmur it sends a low inarticulate cry, which rather expresses, than complains of, the pang within-sighing through all her thoughts.

They have left her alone-she is alone in all the world, this poor Isabell. They have no intention of neglect no wish to wound or slight her; but they think she should claim pleasures for herself-should boldly take consideration like Janet, or laugh at the lack of it. But the shy Isabell can do none of these. She has come to think herself of so little account, that if she had stretched out her hand to receive some envied gift, and any other claimant did but appear, she would shrink back and lose it.

They think she does not care for the usual pleasures of youth-they cannot understand how she should care, and yet hold back with that shy reserve continually. So they leave her alone, and think it is her choice, and are not concerned about the sadness which they do not comprehend; and Isabell, feeling like old Matthew-she was no poet, or she might have said these touching words, long before Wordsworth said them

Many love me, yet by none Am I enough beloved"remains alone continually, and bears it as she may.

At present there is a quiet, sad wonder in this veiled and secret heart of hers. She cannot tell how it is that she has been put back from the warm tide of life, and made a lay figure in the scene where every other one has some part to play. She thinks-and as she thinks, the tears gather slowly into her eyes-that she herself, left here alone, is as loveable as the loud Janet, now gaily on her way to the town. It is not either vanity or envy which prompts these thoughts; nor do they utter the weak sighs of self-pity: only a painful consciousness that she has the qualities which, in ordinary cases, produce affection and regard, makes Isabell's heart heavy within her. She wants something-some strange, mysterious faculty of being loved, which others have; and there is a yearning in her, which will not be persuaded into content.

And so, as she sits and spins, the afternoon wears on. Now and then a fragment of some plaintive song steals over her lip, half said, half sung; for the rest, Isabell sits motionless and silent, while the yarn grows on the pirn, and the wheel hums softly under her hand. But the room begins to brighten as the grey sky grows darker without, for the mass of coal has reddened, and sends off flashes of cheery light, which glimmer in Merran's little glass on the wall, and in the glistening aumrie doors; and unconsciously Isabell moves her seat into the brighter circle which the happy fire lightens, and the warm glow casts a ruddy shadow on her cheek, and

en

the wheel hums with a quicker sound; while darker and darker, towards the evening, grows the eastern sky, and even in the west you can see little trace that the sun there has gone down into the sea.

She has paused for a moment in her work, and the wheel ceases to hum. What sound is that, which seems to wander about the housenow nearer, now more distant? "The East Neuk of Fife" very certainly, whistled by some one whose whistling powers are by no means inconsiderable; and suddenly Isabell's fingers fall again on the wheel, and it almost shrieks under her touch as it flies round and round.

A shadow on the further window! A head bending under the great boughs of the apple tree, to look in; and now, the whistling suddenly ceases, and a footstep begins to make itself audible, hastily approaching; and over the quick song of her wheel, and over this other sound without, Isabell hears the beating of her heart.

Lift the latch, neighbour; there are no envious keys or bolts to bar the entrance to this peaceful house; and now it is well, with natural delicacy, to leave the door a little ajar, so that sometimes the voice of the man at the mill may assure the young dweller at home that some one is very close at hand. Pleasantly now the sounds blend and mingle in this place, which was so still an hour ago; the burn without, ringing soft silvery bells into the night; the mill-wheel rustling, not too swiftly; the spinning-wheel adding its lady's voice; and on the threshold, the hasty foot-the eager, shy hand upon the latch of the opened door.

Just within the firelight now stands Philip Landale, and again his hands are busy with his riding-whip, and his eyes cast down upon it, as he says those tremulous usual words

of greeting-usual words; but they might be Arabic for anything either of the two know of them.

But by and by Philip Landale lays down his whip, and strangely hums the wheel of Isabell-now violent and swift-now low and trembling, like a breeze at night in spring

and now altogether it has ceased.

Ceased; and there is no sound in the apartment but the words of one hurried voice- the beating of two loud hearts. The firelight flickers on Isabell's cheek, which of itself now, dim as it was before, could make the darkness radiant, and her idle arm leans on the wheel, so that its support shakes under it; and the whip has fallen from the hand of young Kilbrachmont, as he stands before her, speaking those wonderful words.

The first the best the most dear;-there is one in the world, then, who thinks her so; and the tears fall heavy from her eyes upon her leaning arm, and her heart is sick for very joy.

Is it true? Look up again, and hear it; and the darkness passes out of your eyes, Isabell, and you begin to trust in the tenderness of others. Thus feels one one whom you doubted-and now your heart grows brave in its new warmth, and you can trust all the world-can trust yourself.

The darkness grows, but these two do not see it. The mill-wheel rustles on; the burn sings to itself in the darkness; and loudly now whistles the miller's man, as he stands at the mill-door, looking out over the Colinsburgh road, in the vain hope of seeing the flitting lantern, or hearing voice or step to warn him of his master's return. But no sound salutes the listening ears of Robert Moulter; no sound-not even those near and kindly ones-disturbs the blessedness within.

UNITED STATES, 6th May 1852. SIR,-Here, as in England, we are in all the bustle of preparation for an election; but no two scenes can be more different than those presented by the two countries. Without attempting to contrast them, however, I will endeavour to give you some notion of what is going on here.

At first sight, American politics present nothing but a chaos of confused elements struggling with each other. Thirty-three State Legislatures are just bringing, or have brought, their sessions to an end, each having thrown some apple of discord into the general scene of turmoil; and Congress has struggled, and snarled, and quarrelled nearly to the end of its labours for this year. A dozen different candidates are striving secretly and openly for the Presidency or VicePresidency, on what they call here a dozen different platforms; and a crowd of different influences are brought for ward by their friends or opponents to affect their success. Political parties are split up into numerous factions, and a multitude of citizens are hold ing aloof to go with the strongest, and take their chance of recompense. Each State has some peculiar crotchet or some peculiar principles for which it affects to fight; and there are, besides, other objects which band two or three States together in one cause. The east and the west, the north and the south, have each their several interests to serve; and in no country upon earth does selfishness rule more completely in political matters than here.

Such is the first aspect of things; but, gradually, a little light comes in, and a few leading facts appear. To these I shall address myself, and leave you to draw your own deductions.

One of the prime questions of the day in most of the northern, and some of the southern States, has lately been what is called "The Maine Liquor Law Question," that is to say, whether a law shall be passed-as in

Maine-prohibiting entirely the sale of all fermented liquors. This seems, on the first view, merely a ridiculous burst of fanaticism. Every one except the most ignorant is well aware that no sumptuary law has ever been carried into effect: every one knows that such a law could not be really put in force in any State-that it has not been so in Maine; and that although the attempt to execute it has caused much strife, some bloodshed, and great general detriment to that State, it has only served to deprive the poor of intoxicating liquors, and not the rich. Yet this law, unreasonable, tyrannical, and unconstitutional as it is, has been struggled for with a fierceness that smacks of old Puritanical fanaticism. Nevertheless, fanaticism is not the great mover in the business. The advocates of this law have, it is true, many fanatics amongst them; but the great body of the liquor-law men are needy politicians, who are striving to make a little political capital out of a popular cry, or timid politicians who dare not oppose a loud-tongued faction: for the tyranny of opinion here is worse than that of Eastern despotism. Under this aspect the question has some significance, otherwise I should not have noticed it at all; but that significance is not half as great as one would believe, from the pledges given to support no one who will not advocate the "Law;" for when the real struggle comes, all those pledges will go to the wind, and, at most, will only affect State elections.

A much more important question is the Tariff; and it is one which will enter more or less into every political combination. It has not of late been put very prominently forward; but it is not the less important on that account. The manufacturers of America cannot exist under competition with England without a higher tariff; and the simple question is, whether manufacture shall cease or not. I may return to the subject in a subsequent letter; but I shall now remark only,

that while the East, as the great manufacturing district, has been generally in favour of higher duties, the West and the South have been adverse. A change, however, is taking place in this respect. Manufacture is increasing in the West, especially since large mines have been operated upon, and has sprung up in the South. Neither is so exclusively agricultural as it was; and there has been hardly a President-making speech for the last six months which has not had some allusion to the necessity of an increased tariff. This is significant.

The great question, however, is Southern Slavery. On it hangs the fate of the United States. I shall not enter into the general question here, though I may treat of it hereafter; but I shall proceed to show only how it affects the country at the present moment. It has broken up all the old combinations. The great desideratum in constructing this republic, was so to unite numerous separate commonwealths in one general bond, as to leave to each separate State full freedom of action within itself, and yet create a power by the concurrence of all, by which questions affecting the whole might be decided. The balance required very nice adjustment between the separate power of each State and the central power of the whole. Those who would attribute greater authority to the federal government obtained the name of Whigs, and those who would leave the utmost possible separate power to each State took the name of Democrats. It would seem from this that the Democratic party were bound to leave the South to deal with the question of slavery as each separate State might think fit; but, nevertheless, the great, able, and unscrupulous body who are actively striving for the utter extinction of slavery in the United States, by whatever name they choose to call themselves, Freesoilers or Abolitionists, number amongst them both Democrats and Whigs; and, regardless both of compacts and consequences, push forward with a persevering eagerness which is full of peril to the Union itself. They avowedly consider no settle ment as final, and practically show that they look upon no contract

between the States as binding, which may stand in the way of what they call a Higher Law. This body has hitherto been in a minority in Congress; but they make every effort to obtain a majority by endeavouring to exclude slavery from any new State applying for admission to the Union. This is, perhaps, a legitimate mode of carrying out their views; but they have recourse to other means, which only tend to exasperate the Southern States, and, beyond doubt, produce very evil results as regards the slaves themselves. The denial of education to the slaves in many Southern States, and the expulsion from some of all free negroes, were, undoubtedly, motived upon self-preservation, as the direct tendency of the efforts of the Abolitionists was to produce a servile war. The pamphlets and pictures which they circulated were only calculated to excite a general rising of the black population, and a massacre of the whites. Slavery is, undoubtedly, a great evil; but it exists, and has existed for years; and no feasible scheme-although several have been circulated - for abolishing it by degrees, which implies any great sacrifice upon the part of the Abolitionists themselves, has met with any favour at their hands. They would cast all the loss and burden upon the South, which would still suffer even if they purchased for emancipation every slave at his estimated value.

In this state of things, a measure was lately passed, which has obtained the name of the Compromise, the most objectionable portion of which was the concession to the Southern States of a right, by means of somewhat questionable legality, to pursue a fugitive slave into non-slaveholding States, and, upon very slight evidence of the identity, to remove him without trial into the jurisdiction of the State in which his sworn master may reside. This measure was intended evidently only to give real effect to a provision of the original compact between the States, though it is very faulty in many of its provisions, and in the general wording of the Act. Upon these faults the Abolition party have seized as a point of attack; and this is the great

bone of contention. Besides the divisions between North and South, the North being generally Abolitionist, and the South compelled to be, for self-preservation, opposed to Abolition, each great party, the Whig and the Democrat, is divided between Abolitionist and Compromise parties. A majority of the Whigs in the North, and a small minority in the South, are, I believe, Abolitionists. The entire Democrats of the South, and a great proportion of the Democrats in the North, are in favour of the Compromise measure. Many who abhor slavery, and would sacrifice much to see it abolished, both of the Whig and Democrat party, strongly support the Compromise, as the only practical measure which could be devised to satisfy the Southern States in regard to their independent rights, and to guard against a complete disruption of the Union. The probability of such a disruption has, I believe, been very much over-estimated; for the safety of the States, their power, their progress, and their glory, depends entirely upon their union; and Jonathan is not a man to underestimate its advantages. Besides, this is a land of bluster; and much sound is continually followed by very small results. Nevertheless, very menacing symptoms were lately displayed in the South; and no calculation can reach the consequences of the secession, or even attempted secession, of one single State from the Union. To sum up, the result is, the population is divided really into Unionists, or Compromise-men, and Disunionists, or Abolitionists. Each body is split into a thousand different factions; and although the preponderance is really with the Democrats, upon the operation of these factions within their several great bodies the result of the coming elections will greatly depend. Should the event be the election of a thorough Unionist candidate to the office of President, supported by a Unionist Congress, the peaceful progress of the United States will be immense. Should an Abolition candidate be elected, which I think is improbable, there may be peril; but unless too deeply pledged to his party, he will probably be coerced into a moderate course.

Such is the political aspect of affairs. In regard to mere feeling, the great majority of the people, as far as I can discover, are exceedingly indifferent to the question of Slavery. The Abolition enthusiasm has worn itself out; and even in the State of New York, the attempt to get up mass meetings, general petitions, &c. &c. &c., has been given up, or proved a failure. Nevertheless, upon such principles the election will be tried, and men will vote for Cass, Butler, Buchannan, Webster, Fillmore, Scott, Douglass, as they have come out or drawn back upon the Compromise measure; and yet those men will, nine out of ten of them, care not a straw for Slavery or Abolition. These two words are merely rallying cries. The great body of the people in all lands requires some countersign, which is generally without any tangible meaning to those who use it. The great distinction of parties in this country is the ins and the outs-those who have the loaves and fishes, and those who have not.

Dollar, dollar, dollar, is at the bottom of it all. Not that I mean to say some are not most sincere and honest in all their opinions and all their acts, but it is not so with the mass; nor will it ever be so, even in a degree, so long as the smallest official appointments—even that of postmaster in the most petty village-are held, not upon good service, but upon good pleasure; and officers receiving from twenty to one hundred dollars are, without fault or blame, displaced as often as the Executive changes.

This is a great evil; but perhaps morally not so bad in its consequences as the election of judges. Where a seat upon the bench is made to depend upon popular favour, magistrates must be always amenable to popular influences, or be more than men; they must administer the evils of the populace, rather than the laws of the people. I am told that the system works well in those States which have adopted it; but the Americans are very vain of all their institutions too vain to judge quite sanely. I have watched somewhat narrowly the operation of the law regarding the election of judges, and,