tional quantity of that herb from which you derived so much benefit yesterday, and I hope soon to see you quite restored." So saying, he bounded over the stile at the angle of the inclosure, and was quickly beyond the reach of Florine's eye, which pursued his path until he disappeared in the recesses of a wood, that spread its dark foliage over the acclivity of the adjacent

hill.

The hours advanced, and that appointed for his return soon arrived. Florine had every thing in readiness, and she was anxiously expecting his approach. Ere long she heard the bleating of his flock, and a moment after espied her beloved Althun. His labours of the day concluded, his fold secured, and the wood he had barked laid in order on the increasing pile, he rejoined his sister, who had just resumed the needle for her evening task. Their frugal board was crowned with a thousand little delicacies. Florine still seemed improving in health, notwithstanding that she had visited the pasture ground in the forenoon, which

of late had caused her so much fatigue. The heart of Althun, as if relieved from some heavy load, warmed as he surveyed her, and, with a double portion of gratitude to his divine Guardian and Benefactor, returning thanks for the many mercies which surrounded him, and imploring a blessing on the provision thus bountifully made for their temporal necessities, he once more occupied his seat by the fire, and with an appetite whetted by deep-felt joy, and by an unusual fast, partook of the supper Florine had so carefully prepared.

While they were thus employed, the hours stole away in various discourse. "Well, Florine, how soon will your dairy be replenished? The winds of November will by-and-by be blowing round our retreat, and we must be thinking of descending to the valleys. The cattle in a few days will have exhausted their pasture on the uplands, or they will be prevented from procuring even what there. might be by the snow, which now thickly covers the adjoining heights."

"In a very short time, I should hope,' replied Florine. "By the middle of next week, I should think. The cheese as I mentioned is finished, and only a small quantity of butter remains to be salted. Indeed, the air of the mountain is now be coming chill, and I shall be glad to move downwards, Althun, though this lovely spot twines itself so closely round my heart."

The tear stood in the eye of Florine as she spoke. It was there her mother had died. In the very apartment she occupied, had her parent fallen asleep. For her sake, therefore, the place was dear to her. But Florine was fond of retirement. Her mind was of a superior cast, and though she was compelled to labour with her own hands, the station, in which she and her brother were at present, was by no means that to which their birth would have entitled them.

Having met with some severe losses by those accidents which are ever attendant on a life passed amidst the mountains, where the snows and the dissevered rocks, and inundations, so often spread desolation,

they had been under the necessity of abandoning a suit in which they had engaged for the recovery of a property, which had long been in their family, but which Althun's father had been deprived of on the demise of his uncle, from whom he was to have inherited a considerable fortune.

Florine's mother, who had been married previous to the decease of this relative, was likewise a descendant of those who had walked in the higher ranks of life, though at the period we allude to, they were much reduced in their circumstances. Yet, still her mind had received that polish, which the consciousness of birth frequently tends to produce, though in a manner not always easy of solution. Her education, contracted as it had necessarily been, had at the same time been well directed, and the limited instruction she had received, had had its full effect.

From uninterrupted intercourse with her, Florine would naturally imbibe sentiments above the sphere in which she was obliged

ac

to move; and often indeed did her cheek glow at the honest but homely familiarity of the mountaineer, as he stopped at their cottage. Besides, their residence in the valley was in the outskirts of a populous hamlet, where they had more quaintances than was altogether agreeable to the taste of Florine; and now that she had lost the protection of her mother, her heart frequently misgave her, when she thought of the long nights of Winter, and the tales of the village which had so often wearied her deceased parent. But the increased delicacy of her constitution, which, though apparently acquiring stability, was still greatly enfeebled, induced her to wish for a milder situation. Their little abode in the valley, moreover, possessed many. comforts as a Winter's residence, which could not be expected upon the mountain, and she was therefore becoming more anxious to conclude the labours of her dairy, and to return to the lowlands.

The few days that intervened quickly