the heaps around him to occupy his attention for some hours longer. -Thus left to himself, Mr Maleverer employed several hours in perusing the evidences of the noble property to which he had become entitled, and it was only as morning approached that his attention began to flag, and his mind to wander occasionally from the important papers before him. In one of the short intervals occasioned by this abstraction, his eye unconsciously rested on a mark in one of the high pannels of black Norway wainscoat surrounding him, which bore some resemblance to a key-hole: having more than once noticed this, Mr M. at length rose from his seat to examine the object more accurately, and found, on a closer inspection, that his conjecture was correct. He then endeavoured to discover if the pannel in which the hole was cut was moveable; but as it resisted all pressure, he would have ceased to trouble himself further, but that the singularity of the circumstance excited his curiosity, from a belief that something extraordinary must have been intended, and which the opening of the pannel would disclose. Under this impression, he began to look for a key which might fit the aperture; and, after considerable search, discovered an old fashioned rusty key, on the edge of a narrow ledge, in the wainscoat, some feet above his head; this he anxiously seized, and on its application to the key-hole, found that it was fitted to it; but owing to the rust which embrowned it, he was long apprehensive that all his efforts to open this mysterious pannel, would be vain. By dint, however, of perseverance, he ultimately succeeded in turning back the wards, and pushing open a door, formed so nicely in the pannels of the wainscoat, as to elude observation, save from the shape of the key-hole; he found himself in a small but lofty apartment, dimly lighted from a narrow window, situated very high in the wall, through which the full rays of a waning moon feebly entered. He had scarcely cast a hasty glance around the room, before he was startled by the appearance of a figure in a sitting posture, in a remote part of the apartment, seemingly deeply engaged in reading, but without any light, save that afforded by the sickly beams of the moon. The entry of Mr M. appeared to produce no effect on this ex

traordinary being, although Mr M. himself, albeit a man of courage and resolution, felt both yielding to a sensation of indescribable alarm, at beholda figure so occupied, at such a time, and in such a situation.

A few moments, however, sufficed to rally his senses, and after a little reflection, he determined boldly to examine the object which had produced so strong a feeling of surprise, nay, apprehension. He therefore returned into the room in which he had been sitting, and hastily catching up the light, again approached the closet; on thus a second time entering it, he had neither wish nor opportunity more closely to examine its furniture or si tuation, being solely occupied with the determination to unfold the mystery which was before him. The stranger still sat in the same spot, apparently intent on his book, with one arm resting on the table beside him; Mr M. therefore advanced towards him, and as the light glanced more strongly on the figure, he was enabled to discern regular, and rather handsome features, with a profusion of light hair; the gentleman, for such he seemed, appeared to be cloathed in the English fashion, but of a date rather remote; his coat too was decorated with a brilliant but partly tarnished star, a circumstance which alone would have produced considerable surprise, but which was much heightened by Mr M.'s remarking, that although he had advanced several steps into the room, and consequently must have made some noise in his approach, the figure still appeared not to heed him. In the confusion of ideas produced by the singularity of his situation, Mr M. at length began to apprehend that the motionless figure before him, must be an inhabitant of another world; a conjecture to which the hour of the night, the silent solemnity of the scene, and the strange mode in which he had become acquainted with the mystery, all seemed to give colour; and without waiting to analyze his feelings, or examine more minutely into appearances so alarming, he rushed, without further hesitation, from the closet; and having hastily closed again the pannel, and put the key into his pocket, retired to a sleepless bed to brood over the strangeness of the occurrence.

The waking reflections of Mr M. were, however, insufficient to suggest

With that same sweet low voice. Yes! thou may'st smile,

But I must think, my friend, as then I thought,

That the voice was hers whose early death I mourned,

That she it was who breathed those solemn notes

Which like a spell possessed the soul.-
I lay
Wakeful, the prey of many feverish feelings
My thoughts were of the dead !—At length
I slept,
If it indeed were sleep.-She stood before me
In beauty-the wan smile had passed away-
The eye was bright-I could not bear its
brightness.

Till now I knew not death was terrible,
For seldom did I dwell upon the thought,
And if, in some wild moment, Fancy shaped
A world of the departed, 'twas a scene
Most calm and cloudless, or if clouds at
times

Stained the blue quiet of the still soft sky, They did not dim its charm, but suited well The stillness of the scene, like thoughts that

move

Silently o'er the soul or linger there, Shedding a tender twilight pensiveness! This is an idle song!-I cannot tell What charms were hers who died.I cannot tell

What grief is their's, whose spirits weep for her!

Oh many were the agonies of Prayer,
And many were the mockeries of Hope; }
And many a heart, that loved the weak de-
lusion,

Looked forward for the rosy smiles of Health, And many a rosy smile passed o'er that cheek

Which will not smile again-and the soft tinge

That often flushed across that fading face, And made the stranger sigh with friends, would wake

A momentary hope-even the calm tone With which she spoke of Death, gave birth to thoughts,

Weak, trembling thoughts, that the lip uttered not!

And when she spoke with those, whom most she mourned

To leave, and when through clear calm tears

As once could scatter gladness on all hearts, Still trembled from the lip, and o'er the souls

Of those who listened shed a deeper gloom-
In hours of such most mournful gayety,
Oh was there not even then a lingering hope,
That flitted fearfully, like parent birds
Fast fluttering o'er their desolated nest?

Mourn not for her who died !-She lived
as saints

Might pray to live-she died as Christians die ;

There was no earthward struggle of the heart,

No shuddering terror-no reluctant sigh.-
They who beheld her dying fear not Death!
Silently-silently the Spoiler came,
As Sleep steals o'er the senses, unperceived,
And the last thoughts that soothed the wak-
ing soul

Mingle with our sweet dreams.-Mourn not for her!

Oh, who art thou, that with weak words of comfort, Would'st bid the mourner not to weep?would'st win

The cheek of sorrow to a languid smile! Thou dost not know with what a pious love Grief dwells upon the Dead!-thou dost not know

With what a holy zeal Grief treasures up All that recalls the past!-when the dim eye Rolls objectless around, thou dost not know What forms are floating o'er the mourner's

soul !

Thou dost not know with what a soothing art
Grief, that rejects Man's idle consolations,
Makes to itself companionable friends
Of all that charmed the Dead !-her robin
still

Seeks at the wonted pane his morning crumbs,
And, surely, not less dear for the low sigh,
His visit wakes!-and the tame bird who
loved

To follow with gay wing her every step,
Who oft, in playful fits of mimicry,
Echoed her song, is dearer for her sake!-
The wind, that from the hawthorn's dewy

blossoms

Oxford, Nov. 16, 1818.

MR EDITOR, DURING a short tour through Switzerland last summer, I resided some part of the time at the delightful little town of Vevay, on the lake of Geneva. I had good introductions to most of the inhabitants, and found them extremely sociable, hospitable, and wellinformed. The immediate environs are not strikingly beautiful, owing to the nature of the cultivation of the vineyards, which are enclosed by stone walls. At the distance, however, of a mile and a half from the town on every side, there is the most picturesque scenery in the canton, and the air of comfort reigning throughout the peasantry, the quiet and retired fields, woods, and villages, filled me with inClarens, so celebrated by Rousseau, did expressible delight. The village of not quite answer my expectations; but, though the luxuriant wood, if it ever did exist, is not now to be found, yet the shade of a few trees and shrubs, and the view from it, is very magnificent. I here read his Heloise, and I am free to confess, that no such emotion or such sentiments as he describes entered my soul-I was far more interested in what I am about to describe -the manners of the place.

The rent of lodgings is extremely moderate, and the price of provisions equally so. There are two very excellent houses which take visitors or fami❤ lies, en pension, on reasonable terms; ed the Cercle, but a very good library, and there is not only an assembly callwhich is liberally opened to strangers. The hours are early; the dinner is served at one; the tea, or goûter, about six or seven; and by ten o'clock, every family has retired. There are occasionally balls, both private and by subscription, which are often kept up till

a late hour in the morning. Here both old and young mix together, which is not the case at Berne; and the refreshments are most liberally served of the delicious productions which the place affords.

The climate is so mild in winter, that many invalids repair hither from various parts of Europe; and in such repute are some of the grapes held, that at the vintage it is usual for those patients they call les poitrinaires to be sent by medical advice, and, during six weeks, eat these grapes; beginning in the morning, a quarter of an hour before rising, with a small quantity, which is gradually increased; and this is pursued regularly through the period; and, as far as my inquiries led me, with great effect.

I had occasion to attend the church, which is Protestant, and standing on a pleasing eminence, on a communion Sunday. The scenery, good order, and numerous attendance of the peasants, struck me very forcibly, contrasted with those in the churches of Italy I had been accustomed to see during a residence there of four years.

The discourse was plain, and delivered in an unaffected manner; and the devout manner with which the sacrament was administered and received (it being carried round to the congregation by six clergymen). also afforded another strong contrast to the Catholic church on this most solemn occasion.

I revisited this place of worship after the service, to make a copy of an epitaph on a monument erected to the memory of Edmond Ludlow, who, during his unmerited exile, resided in this town. His house was shown to me, and stands on the left side of the street, and on the edge of the lake, coming from the Vallais—it is tolerably spacious, and ranks amongst the best in the place.

Whether this epitaph has appeared in print in England, in any memoirs of Ludlow's life, I will not pretend to say; but an old attendant at the church assured me, that very few English travellers came to look at it, and he had never observed any one copy it before I took that which I now subjoin.-I am your humble servant,

VIATOR.

VOL. IV.

2 U