flitted away into the low edge-trees of the forest-There-let me gently place the "Amulet" in a hand fair even as that of the Lady of Ilkdale"a phantom of delight," that will look upon you, Caroline, almost like your own image in a mirror, if you but allow the "Amulet" to open of its own accord-for often and long have I gazed upon that matchless elegance if indeed elegance be not too feeble a word for one so captivating in her conscious accomplishments of art, so far more captivating in her unconscious graces of nature. Maiden like thyself is she-thine elder sister, Caroline-though thou art an only child— but the "Morning Walk" displays the easy dignity of the high-born matron -the happy mother teaching, it may be, her first-born son-the heir of an ancient and noble house-to brush away, with his gladsome footsteps, the dews from the flowers and grass of his own illustrious father's widespread demesnes!

A fine genius hast thou, Caroline, for painting; and who of all the old masters, whose works line that long gallery in the Castle, surpasses in art or nature the works of our own Lawrence, pride of his nation and of his age? The gayest heart, my Caroline, when its gaiety is that of innocence, is likewise often, when need is, the most grave; and that such a heart is thine, I saw that night, with solemn emotions, when, by thy mother's sick-bed, thy head was bowed down in low sobbing prayers-therefore will the "Amulet" be not the less, nay, far the more, pleasant in thy privacy, because the word "Christian" is on its fair title-page, a sacred word, not misapplied, for a meek and unobtrusive religion breathes over its leaves in undying fragrance; so that the "Amulet" may lie on the couch of the room where friends meet in health and cheerfulness, below the pillow of the room where sickness lies afar from sorrow, and the patient feels that no medicine is better for the weakness of the body than that which soothes and tranquillizes the soul.

Last of all-there is the brightbound, beautiful “ Bijou,”— -so brightly bound, that by pressing it to thy bosom, it will impart very warmth, like a gentle burning fire. You have been at Abbotsford, Caroline? Indeed I have a notion that your image has been flitting before our great Romancer's eyes, during more than one of his

dreams of feminine firmness and force of character, that affects the shade, without shunning the sunshine, and by its composure in the calm, tells how bravely it would stand the storm. There is Sir Walter and his family, all characteristically figured in rustic guise by the genius of Wilkie. And the letter which gives the key to the picture, you will delight in, as a perfect model of manly simplicity,—of that dignified reserve with which a great and good man speaks of himself, and those most near and dear to him, before the world. You will find there, too, that fragment of Coleridge's which you have more than once heard me recite to you from memory-would that you could hear it murmured in the music of his own most poetical voice, Yet

"The Wanderings of Cain." why should his divine genius deal so frequently in fragments? The Muse visits his slumbers nightly, but seems to forsake him during unfinished dreams. In "Christabelle," "that singularly wild and original poem," as Byron rightly called it, mystery is perhaps essential; and there is a wonder that ought never to be broken-a dim uncertain light, that is "darkness visible," and should neither be farther brightened nor obscured. But in the "Wanderings of Cain," the subject being scriptural, and most ruefully and fatally true, the heart demands that its emotions shall be set at rest, and everything told, how dreadful soever it may be, that the poet foresaw in the agonies of his inspiration. I fear Coleridge knows that he cannot conclude "The Wanderings of Cain" according to the meaning of the Bible, and, therefore, verily his lips are mute.

But then, what exquisite diction! The imagery how simple,-yet Oriental all, and placing us, as it were, on the deserts bordering on Paradise, at whose gates now flamed the fiery sword of the Cherubim !

And now, Fairest, thou art released from that attitude in which thou hast so long been standing, obedient to a garrulous old man-nor yet "thinking his prattle to be tedious," for too thoroughly good art thou, my Caroline, to be wearied with any attention which thy high but humble heart willingly pays to one who bears on his forehead the authority of grey hairs.

Who now advances with the pink sash so broad-yet not too broadwith timid though not downcast eyes,

CHRISTMAS is come and gone, and I am again alone! That it is not good for man to be so, is a truth which eleven years of absolute solitude have taught me too often to feel, though it is chiefly at this precise period that a sense of utter loneliness finds vent in thought, if not in words. It is not in spring, when the woods are vocal, and the fields instinct with life;—it is not in summer, when a contemplative mind finds " tongues in running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything;"-still less amid the sober stillness of autumn-the year's grey twilight, when man holds communings with his spirit, too deep and awful to be shared with his nearest and dearest, that the burden of solitude becomes oppressive. No! it is when, after partaking in the refined, the social, or the domestic joys of those among whose firesides custom and consanguinity have divided my holidays, I return to the cheerless meal and silent vigil of my own bachelor home.

And yet it is a beloved home, hallowed by fond recollections, and rich in present enjoyments; endeared by the shelter it afforded to the green loveliness of a mother's old age, which had nothing of age save its sanctity; hallowed, as the scene of a transition which had nothing of death but the name; adorned by her own exquisite taste, and my solicitude for her comfort, with a thousand little refinements which few bachelor homes can boast. It is not that I would give the roof that sheltered her (humble though it be) for the stateliest halls of the revellers I have left,-nor the garden she planted for " a wilderness" of exotics, nor the little library originally selected for my Emma, and perused with my mother, for the treasures of the Vatican or Escurial, but simply, that man has gregarious and social propensities, which, when awakened by human intercourse, leave a painful void behind.

It is nearly twenty years since, with blighted hopes and paralysed energies,

I ceased fruitlessly to struggle in the race of life, with those who had still bright eyes to cheer them during the contest, and a prize before them at the goal. The world called my retreat pusillanimous and absurd. I deemed it providential, when I found, that slender as were my resources, and humble as my home, both would contribute materially to soothe the decline of my mother. Even selfishness might have found its account in the compact-for who can bind up the immedicable wounds of the heart with the skill or the tenderness of a mother-one, too, gifted, far beyond the generality of her sex, with almost masculine strength of mind, tempered by more than feminine gentleness of disposition. She had seen enough to be an amusing companion, and suffered enough to be an edifying one. There was a sunshine of conscious integrity and benevolence about her, which no despondence could resist; and a vigour of principle and intellect before which selfishness and inutility shrunk abashed. If her increasing infirmities forbade her literally "going about doing good," there emanated from her humble abode, as from some stationary beacon, a ray of Christian charity precious to the safety and welfare of hundreds. She had wisdom to advise, and influence to promote, and experience to warn, many a young adventurer on the voyage of life; and a purse that, like the widow's cruise, seemed replenished by the miraculous blessing of Heaven. I never knew any one whose tastes and enjoyments were so delightfully perennial-" age could not wither them, nor custom stale their infinite variety." She loved her friends with the singleness and warmth of a novice in the world. She looked on nature with a relish as exquisite, as one who, having been born blind, was revelling in the luxury of vision; and she had for literature the enthusiasm of fifteen, with the tact arsing from fifty years' cultivation of a powerful mind!

What did I not owe her, when, bro

ken-hearted and forlorn, a second time I sought shelter on her maternal bosom ! She first soothed her wayward child, by sharing his griefs; then weaned him from them by her bright example. She had buried husband, sons, and daughters, and stood in the world lonely, but unrepining. Could I, who had but been called on to resign an untasted good, look on her, and refuse to be comforted?

I roused myself to the strife of mutual kindness and good offices. When I was successful, she would tell me I resembled my father; and when her efforts triumphed, I could speak to her of Emma as of a daughter who would have been worthy of her. Surely there are few human ties so tender as that which unites a widowed mother to her widowed son! Both have known joys and griefs, which the other alone can perhaps adequately appreciate-both have just that surplus of chastened and sober feeling to bestow, which the other can afford in

return.

Nine happy, yes! happy years did we pass together; yet, when called to resign her, with all her affections unchilled, and her faculties unimpaired, and her talents undimmed by decay, I gathered from these very circumstances the strength requisite to support the trial, for where could I have found that necessary to enable me to see her the gradual prey of imbecility and decay It pleased Heaven to spare us both the infliction. In the most literal sense of the beautiful language of Scripture, "she fell asleep" -and her waking was doubtless with God!

For a period of perhaps more than forty years excluding the brief feverish ten passed in the vortex of the busy world-my 25th of December had occasionally been passed under the same hospitable roof. When first its Christmas pies and Christmas gambols awakened my childish anticipations, they were blended with vague and groundless fears of a stately and somewhat awful lady, whom the sense of her being my mother's bosomfriend, could not entirely divest of terror in the eyes of childhood.

She was one whose tall majestic form and penetrating eye did but reflect the energies within; and if fullgrown folly and titled insignificance

withered under her glance, it is not to be wondered that childhood cowered before it. It was not as now, when the presence of parents only animates and emboldens the revels of their emancipated children. Duty is a word grown obsolete whether happily or not, remains to be seen. Love, in those days, was shrouded and almost stifled under a cold exterior veil of duty. Circumstances had, perhaps, given added stateliness to Lady Mary's deportment, and assumed sternness to her rule; for, left early a widow with a numerous progeny, she had to act a father's and a guardian's part to seven high-spirited youths, amid whom three lovely daughters grew, half unnoticed, like violets in a stately grove.

When I first joined their festive board, it was surrounded by all its olive branches ;-hardy adventurers already launched on life's ocean, and returned to cheer the Christmas fire with tales of wonder from sea and land;-the pale and pensive student, shuddering as he heard, and feeling that nature meant him for a man of peace; the rosy sparkling schoolboy, panting with eagerness to share the perils, and partake the joys of active life;-the gentle sisterhood of Graces, listening with rapt attention and varying emotions, legible on each soft fair countenance, to the soldier's foray, and the sailor's watch ;--and, lastly, infant urchins like myself, half frightened, half enchanted with what we heard, and escaping from the awful presence of the elders, to re-enact it all-and play at least at men.

No after Christmas fireside boasted the same rich family blessings. One or other gallant boy was ever absent and in peril; and it was the silent tear that dimmed Lady Mary's usually keen blue eye, as it rested on their va cant place, that first knit my heart with filial veneration to my mother's friend. With the necessity, too, for absolute despotism, its foreign assumption gradually wore away. The elder ones became endeared and privileged friends; and the younger, objects of solicitude rather than discipline. More of Lady Mary's leisure could be devoted to her fair daughters, and towards them sternness would have been as impossible as misplaced. The anxious struggle occasioned by an encumbered property gave place to dearly-earned

ease and affluence; and the mother reposed upon her laurels, amid filial gratitude, and public veneration.

I went to school and college. Once only, during that busy period, did I Christmas at Dunbarrow. It was a joyous and festive meeting to appearance, for the band of heroes was nearly full, and the newly ordained and piously dedicated student had been summoned to give the hand of the most bewitching of the Graces to a man deemed worthy of the prize. Few have lived long in the world without learning that wedding laughter is the hollowest of all; but not even the thoughtlessness of youth could then render our gaiety spontaneous and sincere. Louisa was going away, probably for life, and with a stranger. Was not this enough to make a mother tremble, and sisters weep, and the very little children hang about her, and forget their gambols? My sympathy, for it was no more, though I was now a susceptible lad of eigh teen, found vent in a dislike to Mr B which circumstances sadly justified. When Louisa returned to Dunbarrow, it was an early blighted flower, withered by unkindness and misfortune!

From that time, a long period intervened before I again joined the circle. My father died, and my mother removed from the family-seat in the same county with Dunbarrow, to preside over my sister's education in town, and cheer with her presence and counsel my legal studies. We returned no more to -shire, till my blighted hopes, and her repeated losses, made retirement precious to us both; and friendship, as well as a thousand pleasingly painful associations, bade us seek it in our old neighbourhood.

I shall not soon forget the Christmas that succeeded our return, after an absence of thirteen years. Lady Mary's erect and stately form had shrunk in dimensions, like the halls I once thought boundless. Her step was tottering and feeble, and her powerful mind, though unimpaired, had lost the light of memory to guide its path, and wandered without rudder or compass on the ocean of the past and present.

Her heart, however, was warm as ever, and clung the more tenaciously to early friendships, that much that

was more recent eluded its grasp. My mother was hailed with transportbut by that maiden-name, which, for thirty long years, had not saluted her ear; and it was among her many causes for thankfulness, that Heaven had sent her, as a ministering angel, to cheer the benighted soul of her early friend with glimpses of youthful affection and joy. There was nothing painful or humiliating in Lady Mary's abstraction from the things of to-day and yesterday;-those of fifty years back were related with her characteristic energy and acuteness. She alone, of all who exceed their usual span, could people the desolate past with friends long buried and forgotten by their own nearest and dearest. She alone consigned all the painful visitations of the present to happy and merciful oblivion; and gradually learnt to dwell chiefly on a futurity which was not of earth, but heaven.

Grandchildren were now growing up to supply breaches in the circle of her goodly sons and blooming daughters, whose few survivors were now way-worn pilgrims in the various paths of life. These, fondly misled by similarity of name or personal resemblance, she would frequently identify with the "beautiful and brave," over whom she had once wept; retaining, through all her aberrations, such a vague sense of their affinity, as made their presence and attentions delightful, though their absence was happily unmarked. I felt as if on the narrow isthmus between two states of existence, when I looked on Lady Mary's venerable form, and heard her discourse with my mother on events as present, which had become the province of history; and when, without a contemporary of my own to break the spell, I saw, on the other hand, a race of rosy infants (the orphans of long-lost sons) rising to usurp the places which I thought it seemed as yesterday since their sires had occupied.

These feelings have long since passed away. My mother was mercifully first summoned from her soon unconscious survivor, who, with the snows of near ninety winters on her head, looked like some hoary peak, whose base the storms of a century have slowly but surely undermined. It fell at length-but gently, as the ripe grain before the sickle. We laid her