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here called a fine autumnal morning. The trees which were fo lately clothed in the livery of the Muffulman Prophet, have now affumed a greater variety of colouring-while fome have had their green coats changed into the fober tint of the cinnamon and others have taken the tawny hue of the orange. The leaves of many, which like ungracious children, had forfaken their parent ftem, ruftled in our path. Of all the vocal inhabitants of the woods, one little bird alone, like the faithful friend, who referves his fervices for the hour of adverfity, fitting on the half-ftripped boughs, raised the foft note of confolation to the deferted grove.

Emma, who was our conductress, faid she would take us by the private road, which had been a few years ago made. by Mr. Morley and her father, to facilitate the intercourfe of their families. We foon arrived where the wooden bridge had flood; but, alas! it was now no longer paffable. A few of its planks half floated on the ftream-the reft had been carried away by the farmer, make up a breach in the fence.

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"Ah!"

faid Emma, "could poor Mr. Morley now fee that bridge !-but do not mention it to my father. I know it would vex him VOL. II. K

to hear of it." We proceeded on another road, and at the diftance of a few paces from the houfe, we met with a fecond disappointment. Attempting to open a fmall gate that led to the front door of the houle, a little boy came out to tell us that it had been nailed up, and that we must go through the yard where the cattle were feeding.

Emma begged we might proceed no farther, and we were about to comply with her requeft, when the wife of the perfon who now rents the farm came to AIS. "Ah! how glad Mifs Percy will be to fee you Mifs!" cried fhe. "I did not think that my fon could have from the Dale fo foon."

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"What

"Mifs Percy!" said Emma. of Mifs Percy? When did you hear of

her?"

66

"Did you not know that he came. here yesterday?" returned the woman. fhe fent a letter to let you know that the intended going over to the Dale tonight."

Sent a letter! returned Emma. Charlotte ufed not to be fo ceremonious." "Indeed fhe is not what fhe ufed to be," returned the farmer's wife "She is fo melancholy, that I never faw the like. Soon after he came yefterday evening,

she went out to the garden, and, would you believe it? the fight of the potatoes my husband planted in the place my old mafter used to call his Velvet Walk, and which he used to have mown every week (though the grafs was good for nothing, to be fure, but to be fwept away as if it had been rubbish) and where he used to fit of an evening in the queer-looking chair, that now, when it is turned upfide down, does fo well for a hay-rack for the young calves; would you believe it? her eyes filled with tears at the very fight of it. Now what could make any one cry at the fight of a good crop of potatoes, is more than I can imagine. But, fays my husband, don't you fee that it is being fo very lonely that makes Mifs fo melancholy? So I went to her, and though she said fhe liked to be lonely, I would not leave her to herself the whole evening."

Your company would be a great relief to her spirits, to be fure," faid Denbeigh. "Yes, for certain," returned the good woman; "though she took on a little ftil!. And when he went into the paddock, where the little poney that Mr. Morley ufed to ride about the farm now runs, La! fee Mifs, fays I, if there is not your uncle's poney, I dare to fay it knows you. She held out her hand, and called it by its

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name, and, would you believe it? it no fooner heard her voice, than it came fcampering up.-Poor Mopfy, faid fhe, as the itroaked its ears, and again the tears came into her eyes. She turned away, but the beaft ftill followed her, neighing, till we came to the gate. She then fo begged me to leave her for a few minutes, that I went on the other fide of the hedge, and faw her go back to poor Mopfy, and laying her hand upon its head, as it held it out for her to ftroak-fhe burst into tears. Dear heart, fays I, Mifs, don't take on fo; my husband will buy you a furer-footed beaft than Mopfy, at any market in the country, for five pounds.

"Poor Charlotte!" faid Emma: "but why did the expofe herself to this torture?" The good woman ftared at Emma, who declined listening to any more of her converfation; but demanding which way her coufin had walked, fhe haftily requested us to follow.

"How nicely this gravel walk used to be kept!" faid Emma (as we walked along and fee how it is now deftroyed. Thefe fhrubs too, so broken down by the cattle, how the good old Mr. Morley used to delight himself in taking care of them! He is gone! and, alas! how quickly are the favourite objects of his at

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tention likely to perifh!-But the remembrance of his virtues fhall not thus fall into oblivion.-No!" continued the lovely moralist: "the trees he has planted may be cut down by fordid avarice; and the hand of brutish stupidity may root out the flowers of his garden; but his deeds of benevolence and charity fhall be held in everlasting remembrance!"

of a

We were now arrived at the gate meadow, which was almoft encircled by the ftream. A narrow path winded through the plantation of young trees that ornamented its banks.-At the root of one of these trees, I perceived a fmall bright object glittering in the rays of the fun. I approached it, and found fome leaves of ivory, faftened by a filver clafp, which on touching it, flew open, and difcovered the hand writing of Mifs Percy. "It is "Charlotte's tablets," cried Emma. was in these she used to sketch the effufions of her fancy, on any fubject that occured.It is ftill fo," continued fhe, turning, over the leaves. "Here is fome poetryshe cannot think it any breach of faith to read it." "Read it then," faid her brother.

" It

She complied, and read as follows

Why, fhades of Morley! will you not impart
Some confolation to my grief-worn mind?
'Mid your delightful fcenes, my finking heart.
Had hoped the fweets of wonted peace to find.

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