he would possibly have found it difficult to account satisfactorily. We mean, a wish to see Julia united to Fitz-Ullin; to whom he had taken an almost unreasonable fancy; considering how little he had seen of him.

As to Frances, Beaumont's declared attentions to her, and her pleased acceptance of them, kept all others at a distance.

At length the London scene closed, and the family party returned to Lodore-House, to celebrate the birth-day, which, by making the sisters of age, placed their being heiresses to Lord L.'s extensive estates, beyond contingency; for, even in the event of their father marrying again, his whole property was entailed on the children of his first marriage; in failure of a son to go, at his death, to such daughter or daughters, as should live to be of age, and their heirs for ever. Lord L. had been too much in love when he married, to contemplate the possibility of losing his

beautiful young wife, and wishing to marry again. His Lordship's lawyers, indeed, attempted to hint something of the kind; but, with a countenance of horror, the young lover had refused to listen to such cold-hearted suggestions.

Such anniversaries as the present, Mrs. Montgomery always wished to have kept under her own roof, where the actual event had taken place.

Henry had preceded Lord L. and his daughters into Cumberland; for, either accidentally or purposely, he had been too late for the sailing of the Euphrasia.

CHAPTER XIX.

"The sun had set in rich magnificence:
The west was a region of golden light,
Inscrutable in lustre, involving

The imagination in its ocean

Of effulgence: while from its distant shores
Of miraculous brightness, came floating,
On mid air, light fleeces of gold. Slowly

The silent moments stole a chill o'er this
Enchantment, the bright wand'rers disappeared;
The western paradise closed her gates;

And gray twilight, sat on the mountain side."

THE morning after the festival given for the birth-day, Mrs. Montgomery, partly from having taken cold, and partly from fatigue, felt far from well, and consequently remained in bed the entire of the day. Julia sat with her grandmother all the morning. After dinner,

Frances relieved guard, and begged of her sister, as the evening was fine, to take a little walk.

Lord L. was dining with Lord Borrowdale. Henry had quitted Lodore-House that morning, saying, that he was setting out to join the Euphrasia, which, it appeared by the papers, was shortly expected in the Sound.

Julia, therefore, walked out quite alone, she directed her steps towards the desolate vale, where her mother had first found poor Edmund. She seated herself. Her eyes rested on the western hill. It was topped by a few scattered trees, the grouping and even the ramifications of which, were accurately traced out by the bright glow of the heavens behind them. The eastern side of the slope was in shadow, and the woods that clothed it hung to the very waters' edge, while the lake at its foot, reflecting the crimson clouds above, appeared a sheet of fire. The dazzle of the sun's immediate presence being removed,

(for he had just dropped behind the hill,) the relieved eye could now view with delighted leisure, all the beauty, magnificence, and infinite variety of the scene, wherein, each moment, changes were wrought, imperceptible in their approaches, but in their effects, picturesque and splendid, as the most vivid descriptions of enchantment.

Amid the clouds, cloud-formed castles turreted with gold, and temples, sustained by pillars which seemed of fire, arose, spread, united, brightened, divided, and sunk again. Imagination could fancy them dissolving in the intensity of their own lustre. Where these had been, mimic vessels now appeared, of fleecy whiteness, sailing on the liquid gold. These melted next, and waves of clouds, rolling themselves together heap on heap, rose to mountains ranged across the west, and shutting out almost all its glories. Yet on their purple summits, there seemed to linger floating forms, still of