her bridle-rein, rode toward her home more joyously than she had done for many a month before. Not, however, in loud mirth, nor even in the sprightly raillery which she had adopted on their first meeting, was her happiness divulged to common ears; but her soft eyes, dwelling fondly on the features, long unseen, of her accepted and acknowledged lover, though they were lowered modestly so often as they caught his answering glances,-and the subdued and quiet tones of her melodious voice, as they conversed of old home scenes, and sweet familiar recollections, more endeared to them, all trivial as they were, than loftier memories,-were confirmations, strong as an angel's voice, of her unchanged affection.

After a short ride, rendered shorter yet to them by the enjoyment, for so long a time unused, though not forgotten, of each other's converse-by the sweet consciousness of mutual

love; and by the full expansion of their feelings, unrestrained by the cold formalities of that most heartless intercourse which men have styled society, and untrammelled by any chains, save those instinctive bonds of pure and delicate propriety, which noble natures ever wear about them in the guise of flowery garlands, gracing while they dignify the motions which they in no respect impede.

After a short ride through the windings of that verdant lane,-here rendered almost gloomy by the shadows of occasional woodlands which it traversed, here running past the door of some secluded cottage, its thatched porch overhung with bowering creepers, and its narrow garden gay with tall hollyhocks ana autumnal flowers - here looking forth, from intervals in the tall hedges, over some sunny stubble-field on which the golden shocks stood fair and frequent, or some deep pasture, its

green surface dotted with sleek and comely cattle, they reached a rustic gate of unbarked timber, woven into fantastic shapes, and through it gained admittance into a demesne, as rich as ever was transmitted by its first winner of the bloody hand to a long line of undegenerate posterity.

Even to the wandering and homeless stranger there is a calm and quiet joy in the stately solitude of an English park,-in its broad velvet lawns, sloping southwardly away, studded with noble clumps, or solitary trees more noble yet, down to the verge of some pellucid lake or brimful river,-in its swelling uplands, waving with broom and fern, meet haunt for the progeny of the timid doe, whence glitter frequently the white stems of the birch, or the red berries of the mountain-ash,—in the wild bellowing of the deer, heard from some rock-ribbed glen, where they have sheltered during the hot noontide, in the cooing of the pigeon, or the re

peated tap of the green woodpecker,—in the harsh cry of the startled heron, soaring on his broad wings from the sedgy pool, before the intruder's footstep,-in the lazy limp of the pastured hares, and in the whirr of the rising covey. What, then, must be the feelings summoned by the same picture, to the heart of one who hears in every rural sound, and witnesses in every sylvan scene, the melodies that soothed his earliest slumber, and the sights that nursed his youngest meditation? To him these stately solitudes are peopled with a thousand holy recollections ;—the step, perchance, of a departed mother still roams beneath those immemorial trees; her musical voice still speaks to his heart audibly, and in the very tones his childhood listened to, when all its cares were hushed;-to him each bosky bourn and twilight dingle has its memory of boyish exploit, each murmuring rill of boyish reverie.

Home-home-hackneyed as is the thought,

and time-worn-what a world of treasured sweetness is there in that one word, Home! To the humblest and to the highest-in sorrow and in mirth to the needy exile as to the successful adventurer-for ever dear, for ever holy-crowded out, perhaps, from the selfish spirit, by the bustle, the tumult, the conflict of the day-but still returning with undiminished force, when the placid influence of night and slumber shall have stilled the fitful fever, and restored to the sullied heart, for one short hour, the purity it knew of yore.

Oh! if there be on the broad face of earth the being that loves not, with an unquenchable and everliving love, the native home-curse him not, when ye meet-he is accursed already. Vindictive men have warred against-ambitious men have sacrificed-and sordid men have sold their countries; but these-ay, each, and all