with friendly eagerness inquired its

cause.

Perhaps neither Mr. nor Mrs. Davenant felt more sorrow than did Mr. Laurence, on hearing of the approaching separation. Eliza was peculiarly endeared to him: he had been the friend of her mother ; he had received her into his arms at the font, and had performed over her the sacred ceremony of baptism; he had been her nurse in infancy, her instructor in childhood, and in later years her friend.

In vain Mrs. Davenant urged motive upon motive for disobedience to Mr. Massenburg's commands; however much Mr. Laurence might agree with her in wishes, he could not for a moment deny the father's right to his child; and Mrs. Davenant was at length constrained to consent to Eliza's departure on the appointed day.

t

But how or with whom was Eliza's

journey to be performed? For a girl to

travel nearly two hundred miles alone, who had never yet been out of the sight of her friends for a day, was not to be thought of; yet for people of Mr. and Mrs. Davenant's quiet habits to undertake the journey without friends or connections in London, seemed equally impossible. They had remained nearly stationary for thirty years, during which period they had paid some visits

few

and far between' to York and Hull : these of late years had seemed such great undertakings that Mr. Davenant had wholly discontinued them, so that no wonder if a journey to London appeared beyond their powers: perhaps also their reluctance to behold Mr. Massenburg operated strongly on their minds, for they had not seen him since he had taken from their happy circle Mrs. Davenant's young and beautiful sister.

At length, after some internal struggles, Mr. Laurence ended the difficulty, by

saying, "I will take my volume of sermons in my pocket, and Eliza under my arm, and go to London myself."

CHAPTER III.

Adieu, ye streams, that smoothly flow;
Ye vernal airs, that softly blow;
Ye trees, by blooming spring array'd;
Ye birds, that warble through the shade.

ANON.

"BE comforted, my dear child, be comforted," said Mr. Davenant, as he led his weeping niece from the often repeated embraces of his wife, and gently assisted her into the chaise in which Mr. Laurence was already seated; "look forward to the time, the happy time when we shall welcome you back into the midst of our happy circle; and remember, my dear niece, that if the world, into which you are going, should frown upon you,

and misfortunes weigh down that hitherto buoyant heart, then remember, that here, while we are spared, here is your real home."

"Uncle, dear uncle! can I indeed be going from you!"

"Eliza, my dear love, remember to whom," replied he, as he closed the door of the chaise, and motioned to the boy to drive on; "remember to whom-bless

you, and adieu.”

Better far than the most studied eulogy is the strong, simple, unaffected grief of parting friends-the sorrowing tear and troubled sigh, speak to the heart more convincingly than volumes of eloquence.

And such was the praise of Eliza Massenburg-sincere and heartfelt was the grief her departure caused.

Remember to whom ! yes, I will remember to whom! thought Eliza, after the first burst of tears was over. Am I not going to my own father? Yet surely these tears are due to the friends of

my