stationary on the verge of the horizon, shed a chastened, doubtful light, that scarcely penetrated the umbrage of the woods, whose lofty branches threw afar their faint shadows on the velvet turf. Cleanthe rose from the ground, and, gazing round with wild dismay, perceived herself bewildered in the pathless gloom, and far from the shelter of the parental roof. Perplexed by the intricacies of the place, and uncertain of her way, she stood awhile suspended and aghast. As with uplifted eyes, and clasped hands, she breathed to heaven an imploring sigh, a thick cloud passed over the moon, and, expanding, assumed a deeper hue. Gradually the atmosphere became involved in darkness...the stars withdrew their feeble light...the forest shook without a wind...and savage howlings, as of beasts of prey, resounded on every side. The thunder muttered at a distance...blue lightnings darted through the dark profound, and shed a momentary vivid glare; the rising gale sighed among the branches; low moaning sounds, wafted on its wings, rose by degrees into piercing shrieks. Over the cheek of Cleanthe a mortal paleness stole...her knees tottered...cold damps bedewed her face: she sunk panting and nerveless to the earth. From this trance she was awakened by the clashing of swords and the trampling of horses' feet: two knights, clad in complete steel, mounted on foaming coursers richly comparisoned, rushed from a neighbouring thicket, and mingled in fierce and desperate combat. Collecting her strength, and winged by fear, the affrighted maid started on her feet, and darting through the entangled branches, pierced into the centre of the forest. Breathless and exhausted, she at length slackened her speed, paused a moment, and gazed timidly around; when a glimmering ray of light, that beamed tremulously through the distant trees, caught and arrested her startled eye. With mingled hope and terror she advanced forward; the light became more steady, though still feeble, and, gleaming through a broad vista bordered with cypress of ancient growth, revealed a ruined mossy building, half concealed in deep shadow, that frowned beneath the mournful shade. Urged onward by an irresistible impulse, half reluctant, trembling, shrinking, Cleanthe approached the fabric, whose walls, leaning from their foundation, seemed to menace her temerity with instant fate. On entering a long and gothic aisle, towards the end of which a lamp was suspended, she beheld shuddering, at the foot of an altar half destroyed by time, a female figure, spread on the pavement, who, with features pale and ghastly, short respiration, and convulsive spasms, struggled with nature's expiring pangs; a fresh wound, but ill concealed by her dishevelled hair, tangled and clotted with blood, appeared on her bosom, whence a sanguinary stream descending, stained the altar's steps with gore; her hand still grasped a broken hilted poniard, which, with an impious, but powerful effort, she again raised to repeat the blow....Cleanthe, shrieking, grasped her arm, struck with unutterable horror and amaze, while she gazed on the miserable victim at her foot."Who art thou?" said the phantom, in a hollow tone, turning on the intruder a fixed and glaring eye. Cleanthe remained motionless, her feet rooted to the earth...her quivering lips half open...her tongue cleaving to the roof of her mouth, incapable of speaking, and unable to fly. Again the spectre raised its heavy eye.. again it turned on the horror-struck maid. "Enthusiast," exclaimed the dy ing wretch, with renovated and sudden force, "youthful and tender visionary, behold in me, and be timely warned, the victim of impru

dence, presumption, and despair;"......It ceased to speak...the eyes closed......the head sunk motionless......the countenance, distorted by angony, was overspread by a livid hue......the blood congealing, ceased to flow......a hollow groan broke from the throbbing chest, while the guilty soul, bursting its bonds, forsook its mangled tenement, and fled to regions unknown and unexplored. In a moment the light was extinguished......a subterraneous noise was heard beneath the building.... loud howlings surrounded it from without......the walls trembled and shook......the clash of contending elements burst over it......it rocked from its foundation, and fell with a hideous crash. Cleanthe, returning to life and recollection, found herself reclining in a delicious bower, beneath the shelter of a fragrant shade, breathing around odoriferous perfume. The sun shone resplendently, gilding with its beams a crystal stream, that glided in soft murmurs near her leafy retreat; cool and refreshing breezes, laden with the mingled sweets of a thousand blossoms and aromatic plants, tempered its mid-day fervors......all Arabia breathed in the gale......thickets of roses and beds of violets, blooming at the foot of the orange and myrtle, mingled with flowers of every variegated scent and hue; the purple grape blushed through the deep verdure of the laurel and the bay, over which the vine threw its fantastic festoons; trees bending beneath their fruit of varied flavour and of vivid bloom displayed around their glowing treasures.The birds, warbling among the branches, and hopping fearless from bough to bough, spread their painted plumage in the shifting light and shade.

Through the distant perspective the voice of festivity was heard to resound, the light feet of the dancers, the melting cadence of the songs. ter, the chorus of many voices......soft music floated above, about, and underneath. The yielding senses of Cleanthe, taken captive by a thousand enchantments, combated the past terror that had agitated her spirits, and quickly banished from her remembrance its soul-harrowing cause. Her nerves regained their elastic powers, the roses returned to her cheek, her eyes sparkled with youth and joy; her heart alternately melted in softness, thrilled with pleasure, and palpitated with delight. Rising to explore a scene, in which Paradise appeared to be opening to her view, she heard behind her a hasty step, and, turning, beheld issu-. ing from a thicket of roses, a warrior of noble and martial port, in whose graceful figure she recognised, as he approached, the brave and youthful Alcantor, for whom her gentle bosom had long heaved the secret sigh. His air breathed delight, celestial beauty glowed in his aspect; voluptuousness beamed in his humid eyes, as, kneeling at the feet of the transported yet timid maid, he poured out vows of tenderness and love. He seized her hand, half yielding, yet half witheld, and hurried her forwards towards a magnificent temple shining with gems and Parian marble; from the portico advanced a crowd of young nymphs, beauteous as the fabled houries of the East, who, with syren songs, hailed her the fairest of the fair!...... Leaning on her beloved Alcantor, whose arm encircled her fainting frame, the senses of Cleanthe swam in bliss. A nymph more lovely than the rest approached the enamoured pair, and presented to them a bowl formed of crystal, inlaid with gold, from which a fragrant but intoxicating vapour exhaled. "Drink," said shc, in a tone of melting sweetness, while an ethereal smile played on her lips; drink, and participate in immortal felicity......in bliss that

knows neither satiety nor decay." The lover, snatching the bowl, drunk deep of its contents; and, raising it to the lips of Cleanthe, she bent forward with an intent to taste. At this instant, a low mournful voice sounded in her ear..." Forbear!" Her eyes closed; her imagination, under a powerful and resistless influence, reverted to the scenes of the past night......again, in fancy, she beheld the forest...... the ruined abbey......the dying figure...... Again the blood seemed to flow ......the poniard was grasped by the convulsive hand......Again the livid colouring......the pangs of death......passed before her in terrific succession; while the mysterious voice, in more impressive tones, once more appalled her fleeting sense......" Rash enthusiast! forbear! Already has imprudence betrayed thee into danger; temptation is about to plunge thee into vice. Reproach, despair, destruction, are behind ......Rash enthusiast forbear!" It ceased......a dead stillness succeeded; Cleanthe, starting, uttered a loud cry, and dashed the fatal beverage from her lips. The hand of Alcantor loosed its hold; a thick mist arose from the earth; clouds rested on the temple: a momentary darkness veiled the scene. On a sudden, the wind arose; it blew hollow, yet cool and fresh......parted the clouds, dispersed the mist, and played on the cheek of Cleanthe......Raising herself from a verdant bank, she gazed fearfully around, and perceived, over her head, the moon and stars receding at the approach of day; the weaving foliage of the forest, agitated by the breeze, sighed in mournful cadence; the turf was wet with the early dews that faintly glistened in the dawning light. The visions of the night still agitated her heart; uncertain of their reality, and shuddering at the doubtful recollection, her bosom wildly palpitated. Directed by the rising sun, she turned her steps towards the south; when, high over the embowering trees, the turrets of her father's castle, frowning in awful grandeur, and illumined by the rays of morning, burst on her sight. Cheered by the welcome well-known view, she bent her knee in grateful adoration, and addressed to heaven her secret vows. Pondering on the past, and treasuring in her mind the lesson that it conveyed, she arose, and with pensive steps sought the privacy of her chamber, where, with a chastened imagination, and a heart purified, she resigned herself to repose, and sunk into peaceful slumbers, nor awoke till the day was far advanced,

Anecdotes of the late Sir Harvey Elwes.

ROVIDENCE, perhaps, has wisely ordered it, that the possessors The day

of tillage and the seed time,...the harvest and the consumption of it.... in due order, follow each other; and, in the scale of events, are all necessary alike. This succession was exemplified in the character of Sir Harvey Elwes; who succeeded to Sir Jervaise, a very worthy gentleman, that had involved, as far as they would go, all the estates he received and left behind him. On his death, Sir Harvey found himself nominally possessed of some thousands a year, but really with an income of one hundred pounds per annum. He said, on his arrival at Stoke, the family seat, "that never would he leave it, till he had

entirely cleared the paternal estate;......and he lived to do that and to realize above 100,0001. in addition.

But he was formed of the very materials to make perfect......the character of a miser. In his youth he had been given over for a consumption, so he had no constitution and no passions: he was timid, shy, and diffident in the extreme; of a thin, spare habit of body, and without a friend upon carth.

As he had no acquaintances, no books, and no turn for reading...the hoarding up, and the counting, his money, was his greatest joy. The next to that, was...... partridge setting; at which he was so great an adept, and game then so plentiful, that he has been known to take 500 brace of birds in one season. But he lived upon partridges, he and his whole little houshold, consisting of one man and two maids. What they could not eat, he turned out again, as he never gave any thing.

During the partridge season, Sir Harvey and his man never missed a day, if the weather was tolerable......and his breed of dogs being remarkably good, he seldom failed in taking great quantities of game. At all times, he wore a black velvet cap much over his face......a wornout full dressed suit of clothes, and an old great coat, with worsted stockings drawn up over his knees. He rode a thin thorough-bred horse, and the horse and his rider" both looked as if a gust of wind would have blown them away together.

When the day was not so fine as to tempt him abroad, he would walk backwards and forwards in his old hall, to save the expence of fire.

If a farmer in the neighbourhood came in, he would strike a light in a tinder-box that he kept by him, and putting one single stick upon the grate, would not add another till the first was nearly burnt

out.

As he had but little connection with London, he always had three or four thousand pounds at a time in his house. A set of fellows, who were afterwards known by the appellation of the Thackstead gang, and who were all hanged, formed a plan to rob him. They were totally unsuspected at the time, as each had some apparent occupation during the day, and went out only at night, and when they had got intelligence of any great booty.

It was the custom of Sir Harvey to go up into his bed-chamber at eight o'clock, where, after taking a bason of water-gruel, by the light of a small fire, he went to bed, to save the unnecessary extravagance of a candle.

The gang, who knew the hour when his servant went to the stable, leaving their horses in a small grove on the Essex-side of the river, walked across and hid themselves in the church porch, till they saw the man come up to his horses. They then immediately fell upon him, and after some little struggle, bound and gagged him: they then ran towards the house, tied the two maids together, and going up to Sir Harvey, presented their pistols, and demanded his money.

At no part of his life did Sir Harvey ever behave so well as in this transaction. When they asked for money, he would give them no answer till they had assured him, that his servant, who was a great favourite, was safe :......he then delivered them the key of a drawer in which were 50 guineas. But they know, too well, he had much more

in the house, and again threatened his life, without he discovered where it was deposited. At length, he shewed them the place, and they turned out a large drawer, where were seven and twenty hundred guineas. This they packed up in two large baskets, and actually carried off. A robbery, which, for quantity of specie, was perhaps never equalled. On quitting him, they told him, they should leave a man behind, who would murder him if he moved for assistance. On which he very coolly, and with some simplicity, took out his watch, which they had not asked for, and said, "Gentlemen, I do not want to take any of you; therefore, upon my honour, I will give you twenty minutes for your escape; after that time, nothing shall prevent me from seeing how my servant does." He was as good as his word: when the time expired, he went and untied the man; but though some search was made by the village, the robbers were not discovered.

When they were taken up some years afterwards for other offences, and were known to be the men who robbed Sir Harvey, he would not appear against them.

Mr. Halrington, of Clare, who was his lawyer, pressed him to go to Chelmsford, to identify their persons; but nothing could persuade him. "No, no," said he, "I have lost my money, and now you want me to lose my time also."

Of what temperance can do, Sir Harvey was an instance. At an early period of life, he was given over for a consumption, and he lived til! betwixt eighty and ninety years of age.

Amongst the few acquaintances he had, was an occasional club at his own village of Stoke......and there were members of it, two Baronets besides himself, Sir Cordwell Firebras, and Sir John Barnardiston. However rich they were, the reckoning was always an object of their investigation. As they were one day settling this difficult point, an odd fellow, who was a member, called out to a friend who was passing...... "For heaven's sake, step up stairs and assist the poor! Here are three Baronets, worth a million of money, quarrelling about a farthing."

When Sir Harvey died, the only tear dropped upon his grave, fell from the eye of his servant, who had long and faithfully attended him. To that servant he bequeated a farm of 501. per annum, "to him and his heirs."

In the chastity and abstinence of his life, Sir Harvey Elwes was a rival to Sir Isaac Newton......for he would have held it unpardonable to have given......even his affections. And, as he saw no lady whatever, he had but little chance of bartering them matrimonially, for

money.

When he died, he lay in state, such as it was, at his seat at Stoke. Some of the tenants observed, with more humour than decency, that it was well Sir Harvey could not see it.

On his death, his fortune, which had now become immense, fell to his nephew, Mr. Meggot, who, by his will, was ordered to assume the 'name and arius of Elwes.

Thus lived and thus died the uncle to old Mr. Elwes, whose possessions, at the time of his death, were supposed to be, at least, two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, and whose annual expenditure was about one hundred and ten pounds!