Unconscious I of grief or fear,

Of corse or knell, or pall or bier-
Of mourners' grief, and friends' despair-
I could not know-I was not there.
The stars that hid their fires from them,
To me decked nature's diadem ;

Each cherished thing beneath their light
Was fair and lovely to my sight:
But soon, too soon, the tidings came,
For ear to hear, or lip to name
For where was she, who, by. my side,

Had bloomed, with me and mine the pride?
Gone, gone! dead and gone!
To the churchyard, dank and lone.
They tell how gently passed her breath,
How beautiful she lay in death;
That while around her all were weeping,
They could not deem but she was sleeping;
Yet soon the cold, the pallid look
And form, her lovely features took :
The fixed eye, the marble brow,
The lips so pale and breathless now;
All on their hearts were sadly stealing,
To wake the lone and dreary feeling,
That she, so long and dearly cherished,
Had, like the summer roses perished.
As perfume oft survives the flowers,
Remembrance only lives of ours-

Gone, gone! dead and gone!

To the churchyard, dank and lone.
Now soon the gentle zephyrs winging,
On ladened pinions perfume bringing,
Will waft again the breath of flowers,
And fragrancy of summer bowers;
And soon will blithe-voiced maidens stray
By ripened meads of wave-like hay;
Soon by the fields of brairding grain
The husbandman will smile again;
Soon will the shepherd's pipe prevail,
To glad his flocks on hill and dale;
And soon the note of mavis sounding,
When morn o'er eastern hill is bounding;
Soon will awake the black bird's song,
When twilight would the day prolong;
Soon all that grow, or live, or breathe,
Will smile the balmy skies beneath;

But, though come zephyrs, songs, and flowers,
O, where will be the pride of ours?
Gone, gone! dead and gone;
To the church-yard, dank and lonę.

VULGAR IDEA OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.-There is nothing more disgraceful to Englishmen than their utter ignorance, not only of the causes and effects, but of the very events, the story, of the French Revolution. With the majority of them, even of those among them who read and think, the conception they have of that great event is all comprehended in a dim but horrible vision of mobs, and massacres, and revolutionary tribunals, and guillotines, and fishwomen, and heads carried on pikes, noyades, and fasillades, and one Robespierre, a most sanguinary monster. What the Tory prints choose to tell them of this most interesting period in modern history, so much they know, and nothing more; that is, enough to raise in their minds an intense yet indefinite horror of French reforms and reformers. Now, however, when they have ceased to tremble for themselves, and to start from their sleep at the terrific idea of the landing of French jacobins, or a rising of English ones, to confiscate their property and cut their throats, they can perhaps bear to look at the subject without horror; and we exhort them to buy and read Mignet's work, that they may know in what light the Revolution is regarded by the nation which saw and felt it, which endured its evils, and is now enjoying its benefits.-Westminster Review, No. X.

SKILL OF HORSE JOCKEYS.

GREAT interests are committed to the skill, and honour of Jockeys. The duties of an eminent counsel are, in a pecuniary view, rarely of more importance. Tens of thousands, and the reputation of racers and their owners, depend upon their knowledge, presence of mind and resource. "It is," says a competent authority, "the first duty of a Jockey to win, and not to do more than win."-Were he to win with apparent case, this would prove a bar in the way of new bets, and lessen the chances of profit of his employer. This we imagine the main reason why he must not do more than win. Half a neck is sufficient where his antagonist is exhausted, and as much judgment is shown in avoiding useless exertion as in making that which is sufficient. The best and most expert jockeys, such as Robinson and Chifney, avoid the use of the whip, if possible. Boys more readily resort to it, and thereby sometimes lose a race, that might otherwise have been won. When a race horse is in the fullest exercise of his power, and doing his best, the blow of a whip will sometimes make him wince and shrink-he will, as it were, tuck up his flanks to escape from the blow, and, in raising his legs higher up, lose ground instead of stretching himself forth over a larger surface. In this way considerable space may be lost, when nothing is wanting but a quiet steady hand, and a forbearance from the use of the whip. A curious example of this occurred a few years ago at Doncaster, in the celebrated race between Matilda and Mameluke. The latter was of a hot and violent temper, and being irritated by several false starts, not only lost considerable ground, but a great deal of his strength, at the outset of the race. Robinson was riding Matilda, and saw Chifney on Mameluke pass every horse in succession, till he came up with Matilda. At that moment he calculated Mameluke's strength with such nicety, that he was convinced he could not maintain the effort he was then making. He permitted Chifney, therefore, to reach him, and even to be a little ahead of him, and so far from whipping Matilda, actually gave her a kind of check That check, that slightest imaginable pull, strengthened Matilda, and, by assisting her to draw her breath, enabled her to give those tremendous springs by which she recovered her ground, headed Mameluke, and won the race for her owner, Mr. Petrie. It was in this race that a Scotch gentleman, who had won seventeen thousand pounds by the issue, went up to Robinson in the joy of the moment, and gave him a thousand pounds as a present. Gully, the owner of Mameluke, is said to have lost forty thousand pounds on the occasion, every sixpence of which was punctually and honourably paid. Mr. Gully maintained a fair character till he got into the "Honourable House," and it is to be expected that he may retain it there.

THE DUELLO.-The following remarks are a suitable sequence to the observations upon the duello in the last number of this publication. They were made by Mr. Guthrie in his clinical lecture at the Westminister Hospital,-"I do not know," he said, "whether it is advisable to recommend, with Sir Lucius Ó' Trigger in The Rivals, that gentlemen should stand fair to the front, in duelling, and be shot clean through one side of the body, instead of making as small as possible an edge, by standing sideways, and running the risk of being certainly killed by the ball penetrating both sides; but this I do know, that there is neither charity nor humanity in the manner of choosing the pistols at present adopted. The balls are so small, that the hole they make is always a source of inconvenience in the cure; and the quantity of powder is also so small, that it will not send a ball clean through a moderately thick gentleman; it therefore sticks in some place where it should not, to the extreme disadvantage of the patient, and to the great annoyance of the surgeon. These things really should be altered, with the present diffusion of knowledge."

ELEMENİS OF THOUGHT.

THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION."

་་

THE theory of the constitution, in the most important particulars, is a satire on the practice. The theory provides the responsibility of ministers as a check to the execution of ill designs; but in reality we behold the basest of the tribe retreat from the ruin of their country, loaded with honour and with spoils. Theory tells us the Parliament is free and independent; experience will correct the mistake by showing its subservience to the crown, We learn, from the first, that the Legislature is chosen by the unbiassed voice of all who can be supposed to have a will of their own; we learn, from the last, the pretended electors are but a handful of the people, who are never less at their own disposal than in the business of election.. The theory holds out equal benefits to all, and equal liberty, without any other distinction than that of a good or bad subject:

its practice brands with proscription and disgrace a numerous class of inhabitants on account of their religion. In theory, the several orders of the State are a check on each other; but corruption has oiled the wheels of that machinery, harmonized its motions, and enabled it to bear, with united pressure, on the happiness of the people.-Hall of Leicester.

TRUTH, PROGRESSION OF OPINION.

IF truth were in all its characters well defined, and in power were unrestricted, there would then be no room for opinion. The perfect delineation of truth, when once viewed, would be perfectly reflected to the mind, and knowledge, therefore, would be accurate. But to man, in this his first and lower state of being, the mysteries of eternal truth are but partially unveiled; and the capacity to comprehend what is revealed is neither perfect, nor even in its imperfect state, fully or at once bestowed. For not only is there a cloud mercifully interposed to obscure the lustre of that glory, whose brightness would consume the intellectual sight, but there are also mists of earthly error, which confuse and distort the view of what we are permitted to behold. The faculties, too, by which we are enabled to study and learn the lineaments of truth, are themselves capable of increase, and subject to diminution, Knowledge is to be gained by gradual acquirement, and power increased by continued exercise. And as this state of progression cannot, while life endures, arrive at an impassible limit, it follows that our conceptions will be continually undergoing modification, and that, if we are sincere and earnest in our inquiries, doubt and error will gradually disappear; that fresh and purer light will irradiate the mind; that we shall be daily rejoicing in the opening beauties of a less limited intellectual prospect, and, by tracing the analogies more fully displayed in this wider and clearer view, and beholding the order and the harmony that reign in all the words and works of Him who is Truth itself, shall pass, with rapidly-increasing flight, from doubt and opinion, to faith and knowledge, on whose untiring pinions we shall at last be borne to perfect and unclouded wisdom.

THE liberty of the press is the true measure of the liberty of the people. The one cannot be attacked without injury to the other. Our thoughts ought to perfectly free; to bridle them, or stifle them in their sanctuary, is the crime of leze humanity. What can I call my own, if my thoughts are not mine?-Mercier,

THE BIBLE IHT

COUNT OXENSTIERN, the Chancellor of Sweden, was a

person of the first quality, rank, and abilities, in his bén country, and whose share and success not only in the chief ministry of affairs there, but in the greatest negotiations of Europe, during his time, rendered him no less considerable abroad. After all his knowledge and honours, being visit ed, in his retreat from public business, by Commissio Whitlock, our ambassador to Queen Christina, at the clos of their conversation, he said to the ambassador:

"I, Sir, have seen much, and enjoyed much of this world; but I never knew how to live till now. I thank my good God, who has given me time to know Him and likewise myself. All the comfort I take, and which is more tha the whole world can give, is the knowledge of God's love in my heart, and reading of this Blessed Book,”—laying «in the prime of your age and vigour, and in great favour his hand on the Bible.-"You are now, Sir," (continued he)

and business; but this will all leave you, and you will our day, better understand and relish what I say to you." Thên you will find that there is more wisdom, truth, comfort, and pleasure, in retiring and turning your heart from the world, in the good spirit of God, and in reading His Sacred Word, than in all the courts and all the favours of princes.

SUNDAY AMUSEMENTS. In an old magazine, printed about the year 1789, the writer, speaking of the persona whose habit it was to resort to the various tea-gardens near London, on a Sunday, calculates them to amount to 200,000. Of these, he considers that not one would ge the sum of L.25,000 would have been spent in the course of away without having spent half-a-crown, and, consequently, the day twenty-five thousand multiplied by the number of Sundays in a year, gives, as the annual consumption of that day of rest, the immense sum of L.1,300,000. The writer calculates the returning situation of these persons as fol30,000; staggering tipsy, 10,000; muzzy, 15,000; dead lows:-Sober, 50,000; in high glee, 90,000; drunkish, drunk, 5,000.-Total, 200,000.

ANECDOTE OF GALT.-It is very well known among the friends of this amusing writer, that he has availed him self, in some of his graphic delineations of Scottish charac his own domestic circle_and, in particular, that he has been ter, of many little incidents which have occurred within greatly indebted for a number of the choicest idioms, peru liar to the language used by a certain class in Scotland, to his mother, who is considered among her neighbours as a gaucy, auld-farrand, gash gudewife." Mrs Galt who, to character of her son, is nevertheless, at times, piqued when sha doubt, feels much pride of heart on account of the literary finds allusions made, and phrases used, the origin of which she is too familiar with not to know the source from whence they are derived. On a visit which our author some time age paid to the place of his nativity, the old lady thought pro per to take him to task for certain liberties which she cute ceived he had taken with matters connected with the f mily, and after administering what she, no doubt, consi. dered to be a very becoming reprimand-she took down from a cupboard a little, old fashioned, antique-looking tea pot, with whose appearance she knew her son had been inti mately acquainted since his childhood, and thus addressed him" Now, John Galt, I've just been telling ye that you've middled a great deal owre muckle wi' the things about this house; and there's a wee tea pat that you' seen as often as there's teeth in your head, and as I hae great respect for the bit pat, I'm just gaun to be as pinin as I am pleasant wi' ye, and tell ye, that if ye say a single word about the pat, in ony o' your books, you needna expect to get ony thing in this house when you come back but a pouket lug, and that 'ill no craw in your crap, my mau," John has, as yet, been "biddible," and said nothing about the "bit pat."

THE STORY-TELLER.

THE SEVEN DAUGHTERS OF THE RECTOR OF

EPWORTH.

IN a former number of the Schoolmaster we gave some account of the mother of John and Charles Wesley, and of a family that may be truly termed illustrious. To-day we follow up that notice by a sketch of the various, and, in some respects, singular fortunes of the daughters, educated upon that strict system which Mrs. Wesley details in the letter to her son, John, the founder of Methodism, for which we refer to page 69, of the present volume. Our history is principally taken from Dove's late excellent Memoir of the Wesley family.

EMILIA, afterwards Mrs. Harper, appears to have been the eldest of the seven surviving daughters of the Rector of Epworth. She is reported to have been the favourite of her mother, (though some accounts state this of Patty,) and to have had good strong sense, much wit, a prodigious memory, and a talent for poetry. She was a good classical scholar, and wrote a beautiful hand. She married an apothecary at Epworth, of the name of Harper, who left her a young widow. What proportion the intellect of Mr. Harper bore to that of his wife, we know not; but in politics they were ill suited, as he was a violent Whig, and she an unbending Tory.

It appears from the education given to Miss Emilia, and some of her other sisters, that their parents designed them for governesses. About the year 1730, Emilia became a teacher at the boarding school of a Mrs. Taylor, in Lincoln, where, though she had the whole care of the school, she was not well-used, and worse paid. Having borne this usage as long as reason would dictate forbearance, she laid the case before her brothers, with a resolution to begin a school on her own account at Gainsborough. She had their approbation, gave Mrs, Taylor warning, and went to Gainsborough, where she continued at least till 1735, as she was there at the time of her father's death. With her Mrs. Wesley appears to have sojourned a while, before she went to live with her sons John and Charles; where, free from cares and worldly anxieties, with which she had long been unavoidably encumbered, she spent the evening of her life in comparative ease and comfort. We learn several partiêulars respecting Mrs. Harper from a letter she wrote to her brother John, when she had resolved upon going to Gainsborough,

" DEAR BROTHER,

"Your last letter comforted and settled my mind wonderfully. O continue to talk to me of the reasonableness of resignation to the Divine Will, to enable me to bear cheerfully the ills of life, the lot appointed me; and never to suffer grief so far to prevail, as to injure my health, or long to cloud the natural cheerfulness of my temper. I had writ long since, but had a mind to see first how my small affairs would be settled; and now can assure you that, at Lady-day, I leave Lincoln certainly. You were of opinion that my leaving Mrs. Taylor would not only prove prejudicial to her affairs, (and so far all the town agrees with you,) but would be a great affliction to her. I own I thought so, too: but we both were a little mistaken. She received the news of my going with an indifference I did not expect. Never was such a teacher, as I may justly say I have been, so foolishly lost, or so unnecessarily disobliged. Had she paid my last year's wages but the day before Martinmas, I still had staid: instead of that, she has received £129 within these three months, and yet never would spare one six or seven pounds for me, which I am sure no teacher avill ever bear. She fancies I never knew of any money she received; when, alas! she can never have one five pounds but I know of it. I have so satisfied brother Sam, he wishes me good success at Gainsborough, and says he can no longer oppose my resolution. which pleases me much, for I would glidly live civilly with hìm, and friendly with you. ¶ I have a fairer prospect at Gainsborough than I could have hoped for; my greatest difficulty will be want of mo.

ney at my first entrance. I shall furnish my school with canvass, worsted, silks, &c., though I am much afraid of being dipt in debt at first: but God's will be done. Troubles of that kind are what I have been used to. Will you lend me the other £3 which you designed for me at Lady-day; it would help me much you will if you can, I am sure,for so would I do by you. I am half starved with cold, which hinders me from writing longer. Emery is no better. Mrs. Taylor and Kitty give their service. Pray send soon Kez is gone home for good and all. I am knitting brother Charles a fine purse ;-give my love to him. "I am, dear brother,

to me.

"Your loving sister and constant friend,
"EMILIA HARPER."

Mrs. Harper is represented as a fine woman; of a noble yet affable countenance, and of a kind and affectionate disposition, as appears by a poem addressed to her by her sister, Mrs. Wright, before her marriage, of which we give a

stanza or two.

True wit and sprightly genius shine
In every turn, in every line:
To these, O skilful nine annex
The native sweetness of my sex;
And that peculiar talent let me shew
Which Providence doth oft bestow

On spirits that are high, with fortunes that are low.

Thy virtues and thy graces all,

How simple, free, and natural!

Thy graceful form with pleasure I survey;
It charms the eye,-the heart, away.-
Malicious fortune did repine,

To grant her gifts to worth like thine!

To all thy outward majesty and grace,
To all the blooming features of thy face,
To all the heavenly sweetness of thy mind,
A noble, generous, equal soul is joined,
By reason polished, and by arts refined,
Thy even steady eye can see

Dame fortune smile, or frown at thee;

At every varied change can say, it moves not me!
Fortune has fixed thee in a place

Deburred of wisdom, wit, and grace.
High births and virtue equally they scorn,
As asses dull, on dunghills born:
Impervious as the stones, their heads are found;
Their rage and hatred steadfast as the ground.
With these unpoli-hed wights thy youthful days
Glide slow and dull, and nature's lamp decays;
Oh! what a lamp is hid, 'mid such a sɔrdid race!

Mrs. Harper was left without property: but in her widowhood for many years, she was maintained entirely by her brothers, and lived at the preacher's house adjoining the chapel, in West Street, Seven Dials, London. She termi nated her earthly existence at a very advanced age, about the year 1772. That her mind was highly cultivated, and her taste exquisite, appears from the following assertion of her brother, John:" My sister, Harper, was the best reader of Milton I ever heard."

MARY, afterwards Mrs. Whitelamb, was the second of the grown-up daughters of the Rector of Epworth. Through affliction, and probably some mismanagement in her nurse, she became considerably deformed in body: and her growth in consequence was much stinted, and her health injured; but all written and oral testimony concur in the statement, that her face was exquisitely beautiful, and was a fair and legible index to her mind. Her humble, obliging, and even disposition, made her the favourite and delight of the whole family. Her brothers, John and Charles, frequently spoke of her with the most tender respect; and her sister, Mrs. Wright, (no mean judge of character,) mentions her as one of the most exalted of human characters. She married, with the approbation of the family, Mr. John Whitelamb. He was the son of parents at that time in very low circumstances, and was put to a charity school at Wroote. He suffered many privations in order to acquire a sufficiency of learning to pass through the University and obtain orders. It is in reference to this that Mrs. Wesley calls him "poor starveling Johnny." So low were his circumstances that he could not purchase himself a gown when ordained. Mr. John Wesley, writing to his brother Samuel in 1732, says, “ John Whitelamb wants a gown much: I am not rich enough to buy him one at present. If you are willing my twenty

shillings should go towards that, I will add ten more to make up the price of a new one." In every respect, the Wesleys divided with him, according to their power and by his humble and upright conduct in the early part of his life, he repaid their kindness. When he got orders, Mr. Wesley made him his curate in Wroote; and having engaged Miss Mary's affections, they were married, and Mr. Wesley gave up to him the living at Wroote. Her sister, Wright, the most interesting of the Wesley family, com

posed some lines to her memory, which contain an affecting

allusion to her own fate.

"If blissful spirits condescend to know,

And hover round what once they loved below;
Maria! gentlest excellence! attend

To her, who glories to have called thee friend!
Remote in merit, tho' allied in blood,
Unworthy 1, and thou divinely good!

With business and devotion never cloyed,
No moment of thy life pass'd unemployed;
Weil-natured mirth, matured discretion joined,
Constant attendants of the virtuous mind.
From earliest dawn of youth, in thee well known,
The saint sublime and finished Christian shone.
Yet would not grace one grain of pride allow,
Or cry, "Stand off, I'm holier than thou."
A worth so singular since time began,
But once surpassed, and He was more than man.
When deep immers'd in griefs beyond redress,
And friends and kindred heightened by distress,
And with relentless efforts made me prove
Pain, grief, despair, and wedlock without love;
My soft Maria could alone dissent,
O'erlook'd the fatal vow, and mourn'd the punishment!
Condoled the ill, admitting no relief,
With such infinitude of pitying grief,
That all who could not my demerit see,

Mistook her wond'rous love for worth in me.

ANNE, afterwards Mrs. Lambert, was married to a gentleman of the name of John Lambert, a land-surveyor in Epworth, of whom and their children, if they had any, we know nothing. Mr. and Mrs. Lambert are probably the persons meant by Mr. John Wesley in his Journal, under date Tuesday, June 8, 1742, where he says:-"I walked to Hibaldstone, about ten miles from Epworth, to see my brother and sister;" but he mentions no name. On Mrs. Lambert's marriage, her brother Samuel presented to her the following verses:

No fiction fine shall guide my hand,
But artless truth the verse supply;
Which all with ea e may understand,
But none be able to deny.
Nor, sister, take the care amiss,

Which I, in giving rules, employ
To point the likeliest way to bliss,
To cause, as well as wish, you joy.
Let love your reason never blind,
To dream of paradise below;
For sorrows must attend mankind,

And pain, and weariness, and wo!
Though still from mutual love, relief
In all conditions may be found,
It cures at once the common grief,

And softens the severest wound.
Through diligence, and well-carned gain,
In growing plenty may you live!
And each in piety obtain

Repose that riches cannot give !
If children ere should bless the bed,
O! rather let them infants die,
Than live to grieve the hoary head,
And make the aged father sigh!
Still duteous, let them ne'er conspire
To make their parents disagree;
No son be rival to his sire,

No daughter more beloved than thee!
Let them be humble, pious, wise,
Nor higher station wish to know;
Since only those deserve to rise,

Who live contented to be low.
Firm let the husband's empire stand,
With easy but unquestioned sway;
May ng have kindness to command,
And THOU the bravery to obcy.
Long may he give thee comfort, long
As the frail knot of life shall hold!
More than a father when thou'rt young,
More than a son when waxing old,
The greatest earthly pleasure try,
Allowed by Providence divine;
Be still a husband, blest as 1,
And thou a wife as good as mine!

There is much good sense and suitable advice in these verses; and they give an additional testimony to the domes. tic happiness of their author. "I wish," says Dr. Clarke, "they were in the hands of every newly married couple in the kingdom."

SUSANNA, afterwards Mrs. Ellison, was born about the year 1701. She is reported to have been good-natured, very facetious, but a little romantic. She married Richard Ellison, Esq., a gentleman of good family, who had a respectable the marriage, like some others in the Wesley family, was establishment. But though she bore him several children, not a happy one. She possessed a mind naturally strong, which was much improved by a good education. His mind was common, coarse, uncultivated, and too much inclined to despotic sway, which prevented conjugal happiness. Unfitness of minds more than circumstances, is what in ge neral mars the marriage union. Where minds are united means of happiness and contentment are ever within reach.

What little domestic happiness they had, was not only interrupted, but finally destroyed, by a fire which tool place in their dwelling-house. What the cause of this fire was, is not known: but after it took place, Mrs. Ellison would never again live with her husband! She went to London, and hid herself among some of her children, who were established there, and received also considerable helps from her brother John, who, after the death of his brother, Samuel, became the common almoner of the family. Mr. Ellison used many means to get his wife to return; but she utterly refused either to see him, or to have any further intercourse with him. As he knew her affectionate disposi tion, in order to bring her down into the country, he adver tised an account of his death! When this met her eye, she immediately set off for Lincolnshire, to pay the last tribut of respect to his remains: but when she found him still alive and well, she returned, and no persuasion could indu her to live with him. It does not appear that she commu nicated to any person the cause of her aversion; and after this lapse of time it is in vain to pursue it by conjecture.

MEHETABEL, afterwards Mrs. Wright, (called also Hetty, and, by her brother, Samuel, sometimes Kitty) gave, from infancy, such proofs of strong mental powers, as led her parents to cultivate them with the utmost care. These exertions were crowned with success; for al the early age of eight years, she made such proficiency in the learned languages, that she could read the Greek text. She appears to have been the most eminently gifted of the female branches of the Wesley family. She had a fer talent for poetry, and availed herself of the rich, sweet L pensive warblings of her lyre, to sooth her spirit under the pressure of deep and accumulated calamity. At the tale of her afflictions every feeling heart must sigh. Religion wa the balm which allayed her anguish; and the sorrows the moment, now enhance her eternal joy. From her chill hood she was gay and sprightly; full of mirth, good l mour, and keen wit. She appears to have had many suitors; but they were generally of the thoughtless class, and suited to make her either happy or useful, in a matrimonia life.

To some of those proposed matches, in early life, the fol lowing lines allude, which were found in her father's handwriting, and marked by Mr. John Wesley "Hetty's letter to her Mother."__

"DEAR MOTHER,

"You were once in the ew'n,
As by us cakes is plainly shewn,
Who else had ne'er come after.
Pray speak a word in time of need,
And with my sour-look'd father plead
For your distressed daughter."

In the spring freshness of youth and hope, her affectione were engaged by one who, in point of abilities and situation might have been a suitable husband; some circumstances, however, caused a disagreement with her father. This interference did not move Hetty. She refused to give let lover up; and had he been faithful to her, the connexions, in all probability, would have issued in marriage; but whether he was offended with the opposition he met with, or it proceeded from fickleness, is not known. He, however,