Her husband now started to his feet, and said," Sir, you bear the insigna, although you want the manners, of a gentleman. But were you of the Blood-Royal you should not insult my wife with impunity."

Captain Munro started at the word, and repeated, "Wife! did you say, Sir? Permit me to ask one question, to which your candid reply will oblige me. How long has that woman been your wife?"

"For these two days."

"Enough-Farewell for ever! infamous woman!" Edward now sprung from the thicket, and standing right before the Captain, in the exact costume in which he had enlisted, said, with an arch and good-humoured smile, "My honoured Captain, excuse the freedom of your recruit, I cannot patiently hear those opprobrious epithets applied to my sister; perhaps she could explain all this if you had patience."

The Captain was now fairly bewildered, and stood staring, first at the one, and then the other, in halffrantic amazement, when, to his relief, the farmer approached; and, seeing the quartetto looking in gloomy silence on each other, exclaimed, "Why, what is the matter with all of you, that you stare as if bewitched ?”

Captain Munro, recovering himself a little, replied, "It is even so, Sir; and you are come in time to remove the spell. Say, who are these before you?"

The farmer surveyed the group, and observing that Emma had not the bandeau of rose-buds by which she

was to be distinguished from her sister, replied, "Captain, what do you mean? The young man is my son Edward; the other is Dr Malcolm, my son-in-law: you surely do not require to be told that the female is my daughter, and your bride."

"She is no bride of mine-I renounce her for ever!" said the angry soldier, in a most indignant tone.

While the farmer stood, as much amazed as the Captain had been, Emily came forward from the thicket, and, standing close beside her sister, said, "Dear father, let not the gentlemen quarrel; you have certainly a daughter for each of them; and as both of us are quite willing to have husbands, have the goodness to give our hands to those for whom you intend us ;" and both sisters stood with the stillness, gravity, and silence of statues. The astonished father found the distinguishing badge wanting in both, and replied, “ I must confess I am fairly bewildered;-gentlemen chuse for yourselves, for I cannot !"

Edward now put on Emily's playful smile, and looked at the Captain in a manner which made him at once clasp the youth in his arms, crying, "My dear Emily! I know you now."

The loud laughter of the party again renewed the confusion of the bridegroom and farmer, which was enjoyed for a considerable time before they condescended to give any explanation: it was, however, at last madeall was set right, and the evening passed, at Greenbraes, in hilarity and unclouded happiness."

THE BRIDE.

The ways of Heaven are dark and intricate,

Puzzled in mazes, and perplexed with errors.

ADDISON.

In the summer of last year I visited Hazlewood, the seat of my friend Mr Macfarlane, in a fine romantic valley in Perthshire. On the first Sunday after my arrival, the morning was peculiarly fine, and we walked out together at an early hour. The scenery was delightful, my senses were regaled by the singing of birds and the fragrance of the flowering shrubs around us; and I expressed my admiration of his rural paradise, to which the morning gave additional beauty.

"Yes," said my friend," there is something very pleasant in walking abroad in a fine summer morning; it imparts health and invigorates the body, while it exhilarates and elevates the mind. But, to me, the Sabbath morn has charms peculiarly its own. The cessation from labour, the tranquil stillness of all around, so unlike what occurs on any other day, naturally tend to calm the mind. The lowing of the herds, the bleating

of the flocks, and, far more striking, the solemn tinklings of the church bell, awaken the finest feelings of the heart. It requires only a slight stretch of fancy to imagine, that the flowers glow in greater beauty, or breathe richer perfume; that the warblings of the skylark and the hum of the wild-bee, are softer than usual. Frequently, on a Sabbath morning, I take a walk to the church-yard, about a mile distant, where every object reminds me of the mutability of all earthly enjoyment, the short and uncertain tenure of our present existence, and the blessed hope of a happy immortality. Such reflections seldom fail to produce, at least, a temporary humility, and awaken feelings which prepare the mind for the solemn duties of the day."

"I once meditated among the tombs of the mighty dead, in Westminster Abbey," said I;" and my last visit to the mansions of mortality was to that more extensive charnel house of death, if I may use the expression, the Field of Waterloo, where friends and foes lie side by side, many, perhaps, pressing the bosoms of those whose steel had pierced their hearts. Let us now prolong our walk, and indulge these solemn feelings, inspired by the scenery of a country churchyard."

We soon beheld the grey spire of the village church peeping through the trees, and entered on the road leading to the hallowed temple; it was in excellent condition, bordered on both sides with hedges of hawthorn, sweet

briar, and honey-suckle, breathing their mingled sweets. "This is delightful!" said I: "the property on both sides is yours, I presume."

A fine glow diffused itself over the cheek of my friend, as he replied, "It is; my father made this path, nearly as you see it, at a period when good roads were uncommon. It is the way by which three-fourths of the parishioners come to church. When a boy, I heard my father say, that he wished not only to remove stumbling-blocks out of the way which led to the House of God, but also, as far as possible, to make the path pleasant. When I came into possession of the estate, I recollected this saying, and have endeavoured to fulfil his wishes."

From an antiquated stone bridge, impassable by carriages, we had a picturesque view of the venerable structure and church-yard, surrounded by lofty trees, now in full leaf, and seemingly "coeval with the pile."

We entered the dwellings of the dead, the abode of epitaphs, of bones, of skulls, and of worms; and I had just begun to read the inscription on a stone, when my companion, pressing my arm, whispered " Hush!" and pointing, directed my attention to a figure clothed in black, and stretched upon a tombstone at a considerable distance. He then led me softly, but quickly, behind the church, when, in a low voice, he said "Poor fellow ! his grief defies human consolation."

"Who is he? and what causes his sorrow?" said I.