dreamed that Donovan stood by my bed-side: I thought he said, three several times, and in a tone of great solemnity, such as might be the tone of one who had passed from the state of the living, "I suffered justly: but I did not murder him—he yet lives." I am far from meaning to infer, that the dream is to be looked upon as any supernatural visitation; it was the result, and a very natural result, of my waking thoughts: nevertheless, it impressed the conviction more strongly upon my mind; and when I awoke, and saw the gray dawn, I started from my bed with the resolution of acting upon its intimation.

I crossed the draw-bridge, which was then just lowered, traversed the Alameda; and followed the path that leads to Europa point. Some houses skirt the southern side of the rock near to the sea; and several boats were moored close to the shore. No one was stirring; it was not then five o'clock, for the morning gun had not fired; but I stepped into a boat; unfastened its moorings; and rowed under the great rock towards the eastern extremity. I soon doubled the south-eastern point, and found myself in front of the great precipice; and now I backed from the rock, keeping my eyes steadfastly fixed upon the fissures and projections; and the reader will scarcely be inclined to credit me, if I assert, that when I first descried, upon a distant projection, something that bore the resemblance of a human figure, I felt more joy than surprise, so strongly was I impressed with the belief, that Captain L▬▬ might yet be living. A nearer and closer inspection almost convinced me that I was not deceived; and I need scarcely say, that my boat shot swiftly through the water as I returned towards Europa point.

It is unnecessary that I should detail the farther steps that were taken, in order to discover whether the information I had given was correct, or the means resorted to, to rescue Captain L- from his perilous situation, or the measures which were adopted to restore him to consciousness and strength. I can never forget the visit I made to the house of Colonel Waring, the evening upon which it had been slowly broken to Emily that Captain L- yet lived. Never did smiles and tears meet under happier auspices,— for joy had unlocked the fountain that sorrow had choked up; and every tear was gilded by a smile. As for the old Colonel, his delight knew no bounds,-he alternately shook me by the hand, and kissed the wet, though smiling cheek of his daughter. "I am not a man of many words," said he, "but by G-d, all I can say is this, that if Captain L-- had perished, you should have been the

man."

It was some days before Captain Lwas sufficiently recovered to see his bride. I was present at the meeting. It was one of

those scenes that can never pass from the memory of him who has witnessed such. Never was happiness so prodigal of tears; never were tears less bitter. It was now evening; we had left the house, and were seated in the Colonel's garden, which overlooks the Alameda, and the bay of Algesiras, which lay in perfect calm, coloured with the gorgeous hues reflected from Andalusian skies. Captain

L had not yet been requested to relate those particulars which he alone knew, but he guessed our wish; and when Emily had seated herself in an obscure corner of the summer-house, he gave us the following relation.

"I left Griffith's hotel about five o'clock, to dine with poor Donovan, as I had promised: he received me, as usual, with apparent kindness; but during dinner, he was often abstracted,— there was evident agitation in his tone and manner,-and for the first time in my life I felt uncomfortable in his company. After dinner he proposed a walk; I left the house first; and chancing to glance in at the window as I passed round the angle, I saw him place a short dagger in his bosom. Suspicion then, for the first time, entered into my mind; and the manner of Donovan, as we ascended, was calculated to increase it. You recollect, that about half a mile beyond the highest piquet station, the road to the eastern point branches into two. I proposed that we should go different ways. Donovan took the zig-zag path; I followed the narrow steep path, intending to shun another meeting, and to scramble down the southern side. In passing the entrance to the excavations, I noticed that the iron gate was open,-left open probably accidentally-and the coolness of these subterranean galleries invited me to enter. While walking through them, I stopped to look out at one of the port holes ;* and seeing, upon a little platform of the rock, about nine feet below, some stalks of white narcissus,† I felt a strong desire to possess myself of them,-in fact, I thought Emily would like them, for we had often, when walking on the rock, or rowing under it, noticed these pretty flowers in inaccessible spots, and regretted the impossibility of reaching them. Betwixt the port hole and the platform there was a small square projection, and a geranium root twining round it, by which I saw that I could easily and safely accomplish my purpose. I accordingly stepped, or rather dropped upon the projection, and, only lightly touching

* It may be necessary to inform the reader, that the excavations of Gibraltar are immense passages, or, as they are there called, galleries, hewn in the centre of the rock. These are carried within the face of the great precipice, and at short intervals there are openings, or port-holes, for cannon. Every projection and every nook in the face of the precipice, is adorned with these beautiful and sweet-smelling flowers.

it, descended to the platform. Having possessed myself of the flowers, I seized the projection, to raise myself up; but, to my inexpressible horror, the mass gave way, and, with the geranium-root, bounded from point to point, into the sea. The separation of this fragment left the face of the rock entirely bare,-without point, fissure, or root; it was at least nine feet from the spot where I stood to the lower part of the port hole. It was impossible, by any exertion, to reach this; and the face of the rock was so smooth, that even a bird could not have found a footing upon it. I saw that I was lost, I saw that no effort of mine could save me, and that no human eye could see me; and the roaring of the waves below, drowned all cries for succour. I was placed about the middle of the precipice, with seven or eight hundred feet both above and below. Above, the rock projected, so that no one could see me from the summit; and the bulging of the rock on both sides, I saw must prevent any one discovering me from the sea, unless a boat should chance to come directly under the spot.

Evening passed away, it grew dark; and when night came I sat down upon the platform, leaning my back against the rock. Night passed too, and morning dawned-this was the morning when Emily would have given herself to me; the morning from which I had in imagination dated the commencement of happiness. I renewed my vain efforts; I sprang up to the port-hole; but fell back upon the platform, and was nearly precipitated into the ocean; I cried aloud for help; but my cry was answered only by some monkeys that jabbered from an opposite cliff. I thought of leaping into the sea, which would have been certain death; I prayed to God; I fear I blasphemed; I called wildly and insanely, called upon Emily; I cursed, and bewailed my fate, and even wept like a child; and then I sunk down exhausted. Oh! how I envied the great birds that sailed by, and that sank down in safety upon the bosom of the deep. The history of one day is the history of all, until weakness bereaved me of my powers. Hunger assailed me; I ate the scanty grasses that covered the platform, and gradually became weaker; and as the sufferings of the body increased, that of the mind diminished. Reason often wandered; I fancied that strange music, and sometimes the voice of Emily, mingled with the roar of the waves. I saw the face of Donovan looking at me through the port-hole; and I fancied that I was married; and that the flowers in my bosom were my bride, and I spoke to her, and told her not to fear the depth, or the roar of the sea. I have kept the flowers, Emily; I found them in my bosom when I was rescued; here they are," said Captain L, rising, and laying them upon Emily's lap. But the recital had been too much for

her feelings; she had striven to repress them, but they could bear no more control; "hated flowers!" said she, as throwing herself upon the neck of her betrothed, she found relief in a flood of tears. "My sweet girl, my dear Emily," said the Colonel, as he gently raised her from her resting place, and pressed her to a father's bosom, ""tis past now; and I propose that next Monday we'll"—but Emily had left the summer house-" next Monday," resumed the Colonel, addressing Captain L, "we'll have the wedding."

And so it was. Oh! how soon are sorrows forgotten. I saw Emily led to the altar; I saw her afterwards a happy and beloved wife. Between my first and second visit to Gibraltar, the Colonel had paid the debt of nature; but Emily's house is always my home. I found her as beautiful as ever; as gentle and good; as much loved. Emily Waring, I shall never see thee more; then God bless thee, thy husband, and thy children!

A SUMMER DAY.

THERE was not on that day a speck to stain
The azure heaven: the blessed sun alone
In unapproachable divinity,

Career'd rejoicing in the fields of light.

How beautiful, beneath the bright blue sky,
The billows heave! one glowing green expanse,
Save where along the line of bending shore,
Such hue is thrown, as when the peacock's neck
Assumes its proudest tint of amethyst,
Embathed in emerald glory: all the flocks
Of ocean are abroad: like floating foam
The seagulls rise and fall upon the waves:
With long protruded neck the cormorants
Wing their far flight aloft, and round and round
The plovers wheel, and give their note of joy.
It was a day that sent into the heart

A summer feeling; even the insect swarms,
From the dark nooks and coverts issued forth
To sport through one day of existence more.
The solitary primrose on the bank
Seem'd now as if it had no cause to mourn
Its bleak autumnal birth; the rock and shores,
The forests, and the everlasting hills,

Smiled in the joyful sunshine; they partook
The universal blessing.

• Madoc.'

SOUTHEY *

THE JUBILEE.*

SOME years have elapsed (I am sometimes tempted to forget how many) since I endeavoured to compensate the deficiencies of a ne glected education on my own side the Tweed, by voluntary studies at the university of Edinburgh. As a relaxation from severer pursuits, and an excuse for rambles in a country whose novelty alone was attraction enough to an untravelled Englishman, I occasionally accompanied a young artist of liberal education and pleasing manners, with whom I was acquainted, in his sketching expeditions in the romantic neighbourhood of his native city, the very contiguity of which to a great town rendered it more piquant and striking.

In one of these excursions, when, by the uncommon fineness of the weather and greater distance of the style of scenery requisite for his purpose, we were tempted to proceed beyond the brief limits of an autumnal day, instead of returning by the light of a rather waning moon to Edinburgh, G― proposed that we should take up our quarters for the night at a neat little mountain inn, much frequented at various seasons by fishers and grouse-shooters, and affording, in consequence, accommodations of a description its unpretending aspect would scarcely have led one to expect. On nearing this rustic hostelry, kept by an antique of the true Meg Dods character, we were a good deal surprised to hear, issuing from its usually quiet haven, sounds of the most exuberant and unrestrained mirth, blending with, and nearly overpowering, the discordant strains of a brace of evidently belligerent fiddles.

"A penny wedding--by all that's lucky!" exclaimed my companion. "At least you, sir, as a stranger, will no doubt think one night's rest well sacrificed for a peep at these fast-waning saturnalia."

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'Pray, explain,” said I, delighted to witness, under any circumstances, so lively a scene of national festivity: "what do you m în by a 'penny wedding?'"

"Why, Sir, in pastoral and primitive districts—which, strang o say, though within a dozen miles of a capital, these hills seem likely long to remain-when a couple, of the lowest order, of course, are too poor to muster the sum requisite for marrying, their neighbours and acquaintance good-humouredly set on foot a subscription, out of which is first defrayed such a merry-making as you see going on

*From The Literary Souvenir,' 1832.