Sawmy, who was still of considerable influence in the country, frequently visited the Major, to make inquiries respecting his health, and to see that he was kindly treated, and had his provisions dressed to his liking. Here the Major died a natural death, about two months after his arrival, being very ill for several days before his death, as the natives who attended him said, of a discharge of blood and swelled feet, and that during his illness the King sent him a doctor to attend him. He was buried at the side of a lake, in a valley, at the bottom of the street where he died; and the actual period of his decease is fully ascertained to have been in the month of July 1812. after the natives dethroned the King, and delivered up to us the whole Kandian territory, in the year 1815; and, in particular, from an examination of several 'native people of Ceylon, which was made before the British resident in the capital of Kandy in the year 1816, in presence of several gentlemen, that, about a twelvemonth after the massacre of the British troops, Major Davie was living at the village of Gonagodda, in the district of Dombera, about eight English miles distant from Kandy; and that, although he was a prisoner, he was as kindly and attentively treated as circumstances would admit of, not being kept in close confinement, but permitted to walk about at some distance from the village, attended by a small guard to prevent his escape, and Major Davie was, by all the - acthe chief man of the village being an- counts of the natives, until the attack swerable for him with his head. Ma- of illness of which he died, in tolerjor Davie was abundantly supplied able health and spirits; and, in reply with provisions by the orders of the to some queries as to the manner in King of Kandy, through the medium which he passed his time, the people of the people of the village, agreeable said he was principally, when in the to the custom of the country. He house, employed reading a small book, went among the people by the name which they described as about the of the Englishman. After this, it ap- size of a duodecimo volume. Various pears, he lived for some time at the reports were, in general, circulated village of Napana, also in the district throughout Ceylon respecting the of Dombera, about two miles from manner in which he died, such as, Kandy, probably about a year, and that he had been carried off in a pawas then removed to the village of lanquin by the King's orders, and Coralcadda, in the same district, four thrown into a river, and various other miles from Kandy, and which latter fictions, all of which, as well as the movement was in consequence of some previous distressing accounts respectapprehensions that were entertained ing their treatment of him, turned out by the Adigar, that he might be se- to be totally unfounded, for he not cretly carried off to Columbo. In only continued for nearly eight years Coralcadda he resided for about in good health and spirits, but two years, after which he was taken he had actually opened a commuto the village of Wattapana, two miles nication with Sir Thomas Maitland, from his last place of abode, and here who, when Governor of Ceylon, used he lived about four years, and was the most able and unremitting exeragain taken to his former place of re- tions to obtain his release or effect his sidence at Gonagodda, a short time escape, which last would have most previous to his being brought in a probably been accomplished, had not close prisoner to Kandy, in conse- Major Davie's powerful constitution quence of a report which had reached yielded, after nine years detention, to the King, of Major Davie's having the great unhealthiness of climate privately sent some letters to Colum- which prevails in the interior of Ceybo;-for assisting him in conveying lon. which, two of the natives were put to death by the King's orders. At Kandy, Major Davie lived in a house in Malabar Street, belonging to a person named Mootto Sawmy, a descendant of the Prince of that name, whom the Adigar had basely put to death at the time of the massacre of the British. The younger Mootto CORRESPONDENCE OF THE DE COVER- No. V. To Richard De Coverley, Esq. Bandyborough, Sept. 7. Two long letters and no answer ! What can you be about my dear Richard? If I were not more amiable than any lamb, or dove, or animal of gentler nature still, if there be one, I should punish you by imitating your silence; but as I do happen to be very amiable, and moreover very wise, I shall forbear and begin this third letter, rather than be a sufferer myself by your punishment, not without cherishing a hope, that, ere it is finished, you may account in person for your silence, and the pleasure of writing may be exchanged for the far dearer one of seeing and talking to you. In the mean time, write I must, for I am seized with a sudden fancy to describe to you Mary Leslie, a task I have not yet attempted, owing to its extreme difficulty, but I forewarn you to guard your truant heart, for I have determined that this young lady shall captivate George, and I will not allow you to disturb my plans. The task of describing Mary Leslie is indeed a difficult one, and I feel like a painter who may give you the features exactly, but, unless he catch the expression that animates them, his picture will never be a good one; so that the more varying the expression, the greater the difficulty for the poor painter, and for me in attempting even a sketch of Mary Leslie. An outline of her character I could easily give. A painter, too, might easily copy the regularity of her features; but neither he nor I can hope to catch the varying expression, the passing shadows, and the bright but fleeting lights, that are come and gone ere you can paint their place, leaving sometimes behind them a countenance so utterly destitute of animation, that you can scarce help exclaiming, "Tis Greece, but living Greece no more!" But not such was the case when I found her this morning in a small turreted chamber, (for Mr Leslie's is a dwelling of the olden time,) surrounded by books, papers, shells, and fossils, some few arranged on shelves, but the rest scattered in wild.confusion on the antique furniture of an apartment as whimsical as its fair owner herself. Miss Leslie did not immediately perceive my entrance, a stream of light from a narrow Gothic casement falling full upon her, while I remained in comparative darkness, and I had a moment's pause for observation. She was seated in a richly carved elbow chair. Her dress, as usual, plain and ladylike, would have had nothing in it remarkable, but for a silk handkerchief of varied colours, which had been tied on in the French style, but was pushed back, till, in the most grotesque manner imaginable, it rested at the very top of her head, leaving the rich curls of her yellow hair to fall unconfined on each side of her face, but not so as to conceal her very intellectual forehead. A paper and pencil were in her hand, and it was easy to see she was under the inspiration of the Muses. A hair-brain'd sentimental trace Was strongly marked in her face; and her large blue eye, though turned on empty space, "beamed keen with horror!" I could almost have wished to have retired, for my errand had nothing to do with Parnassus, but I and rising hastily, she advanced in was prevented by her seeing me, a hearty good humoured way to and exclaiming, "Welcome to my meet me, throwing the paper aside, castle, Miss De Coverley! You find it in strange disorder, but if you come again in a day or two, every shell and stone will have taken its station on its own shelf, and my cap," continued she, laughing as she turned to the if I can contrive to keep it so." "I "shall be seated more steadily glass, am afraid," said I," the Muses have fled at my approach, and well they might, for a less exalted errand could scarcely have brought me here. Dare I say, that I come to consult you about the rout we are to give this evening, for as it is our first in the land of Bandyborough, I am utterly ignofant of the etiquette necessary on the occasion." "Ah!" cried she, shaking her head, and looking inimitably droll, "What motley cares Corilla's mind perplex, While maids and metaphors conspire to vex. I was indeed in attendance on the Aluses, who sometimes visit me when I retire to my fastnesses in this old tower, but it is not often that their place is, as now, supplied by the Loves and Graces; and so, when I have cleared a chair, let us sit down and console ourselves if we can, I for the departure of the Muses, you, that so fine a speech was not made to you by a finer person, and let us talk over the business of the evening." You will scarcely believe that I could not have consulted a person more au fait to the arrangement of a card party, than this votary of the Muses, who contrived to mix correct information on the subject with so much wit and drollery, that I listened, and laughed, till I became convinced there is a bright side even of a rout in a country town. Such was Mary Leslie this morningthe Mary Leslie of this evening may be quite a different creature. Adieu for the present. I am called in aunt Eleanor's most commanding tones, My uncle David must be arrived! Thursday Night.-How could I suppose my uncle David would come at two o'clock, when he said he should not be with us till three? Not uncle David's was the step I heard bounding up three stairs at once. Oh no! I had opened the door to obey the summons of my aunt, and in another moment I was in the arms of our own dear George! looking so well, and so handsome! and I so happy! there could not be a more joyous moment. But before we had time to think half this, we ran down stairs together, my aunt vociferating the whole time from the bottom, "But George, my dear George, why did not you write? How could you come without writing? When will you learn to be considerate?" While my father, mounting two or three steps, as if impatient of his momentary absence, and holding out his hand to him, exclaimed, "Never mind his letters, Mrs Eleanor, never mind his letters; how can you think of them when the dear boy is here himself?" In the hall we found mamma, staring as she had done on George's first appearance, and it was not till he had placed her on the sofa, and seated himself beside her, that she broke silence, saying, "Dear me! I thought it must be my brother David!" "I hope you don't think so now, Ma'am," said George. "Bless me, no my dear, you are so very different; besides, I am as glad to see you," added she, the tear trembling in her eye, as if it had been Dick!" George gave her a kiss of thanks, and then attempted to apologise to aunt Eleanor, by assuring her he had written, as he could prove, by shewing her the letter which he had unfortunately thrown into his portfolio, and brought himself, instead of sending it by the post; but finding her still inclined to lecture, we took refuge in flight, and papa, he, and I, had paced up and down the garden, talking and laughing for about a quarter of an hour, when the clock struck one, and a carriage drove up to the door-two, and the step was let down-three, and my uncle David was in the hall, watch in hand. "Always to my time! sister-always to my time! I hope you received my letter!" were his first words. Very different to George, as Mamma justly observed. I expected they would have been pointed against him by my aunt, but uncle David is no favourite of hers, and I think they operated in George's favour. I need say no more of my uncle. You know, by long experience, what he said to each of us, and we had only one novelty. "So, Mr De Coverley, you have got into your new house I see.' I will therefore employ my remaining page in informing you, our debût on the party-giving stage was a successful one, but I wish you had been here to see the difference between a town and country rout. No crush of carriages ! for two sedan chairs fetched and carried the ladies, while the gentlemen tripped, as they best could, in their black stockings through the dust. No crowd thirty or forty formed the whole strength of our party. No confusion! for Mr Scamony, the presiding genius of the card-tables, filed off four and four till all were filled, taking care to place those near the window who liked air, and those at a distance who were afraid of cold, and bringing shawls and whispered consolations to those who were not considered so decidedly on the aged or invalid list as to be consulted. There was no flirting, for of the three un married men, one had lost his heart and engaged his hand; another was at cards; and George, than whom there could not have been a more useless person on such an occasion, was the third. What could we forlorn damsels have done without Mr Scamony? who snuffed our candles, turned over the leaves of our books of prints, repeated a few novelties from Joe Miller, and was again at Mamma's side, attending to her beseeching eye when a card-table broke up, and some other anxious expectants were called into action. My uncle David looked perfectly comfortable, either playing the safe rubber he is so famous for, or conversing on those immortal topics, short days, late dinners, foggy mornings and fine noons, Iondon bread and country bread, &c. &c. In this way cards were shuffled, refreshments eaten, many foolish and some wise things said to wile away the time, till the chairs were again in attendance, and one by one the party dropped away, leaving only ourselves and empty card-tables at 12 o'clock. All but myself are now, I trust, asleep, their dreams as little disturbed by Honours and Odd tricks, as those of George are likely to be by the charms of Mary Leslie, the provoking Mary Leslie! She came into the room when most of the party had assembled: her dress was what you would admire, moderately fashionable, easy and elegant. She looked handsome too, but the first glance convinced me that the spirit of the morning had fled, and, to use plied she, "there is no necessity for my talking, there are plenty to entertain him without me." And after these few words in a sleepy and nonchalante tone, she resumed her occupation, and I heard no more. At night I asked George if he admired Miss Leslie. After some little consideration, he replied, "I scarcely observed her, she seemed so very stupid, but I think she has a pretty nose. So much for my first, and, I think, my last attempt at match-making, which, considering George is still at College, might have been delayed à little longer. And now, good night, my dear Richard, let not many good nights come and go before I have the delight of assuring you in person how truly I am, your affectionate sister, FANNY DE COVERLEY. London, Sept. 5. more Sir an expressive phrase, her To Miss De Coverley, Bandyborough. company face" was on. She soon seated herself by one of the most stupid of our young ladies, and I was surprised at the versatility which enabled her to lower the tone of her conversation to that of her insipid companion. Still I admire you," thought I," and there is something in the calm good nature of your countenance and deportment which reminds me of a deep and placid river flowing gently on its course, while it meets with no inequalities to obstruct, no breeze to ruffle its waves, no sunshine to make them sparkle; but now that I have introduced you to George, let me hope for a little foam, a little sparkle, a faint reflection at least of the morning's brilliancy." No such thing! She had risen early, had gardened, was tired, and the impulse of good nature removed, her countenance, and the whole attitude of her person sunk gradually into an appearance of such utter insouciance, that at last scarce a ray of sense could be traced on a face which I had seen so beaming with intelligence. When spoken to, she scarcely heard, answered at random, and appeared absorbed in the contemplation of a book of plates which I knew her to have seen twenty times before. I overheard Miss Wilmot chiding her for not speaking more to George, and assuring her he would be very agreeable. "I have nothing to say to him," re YOUR two last interesting letters, my dear Fanny, deserved a speedy acknowledgment of my grati tude. That I have been so tardy, is owing to my having delayed writing from day to day, hoping that my letter would only contain those few welcome words" Expect us at Bandyborough to-morrow evening." The cause of our present detention is the arrival of Lady Mary Trevor, who is come up to town to consult Cline about little Arthur's lameness. Edward and the rest of the family will follow in a week or ten days; and, in the mean time, Ned and I have been in pursuit of a house to establish them in for the winter. Of all occupations this is one of the most wearisome; but we have been successful at last; and Sir Edward, who, whenever he moves, brings wife, children, governesses, and, I verily believe, half the population of Cambria with him, will take up his winter quarters at that " very spacious, genteel, and desirable residence, No. 44, Baker Street, Portman Square. Ned only waits to embrace his father and sisters, and then-we shall take wing for my own dear nest. I am so entirely home sick, that, were it not for the disappointment it would cause my friend, I would set off this instant, leave him to follow as he could, defer my introduction to the patriarch, and miss the opportunity of losing my heart to Miss Trevor, which last event (if she be, as old Samuel told me she was, "the very moral of Master Edward") is as certain to take place as that my mother, when she hears this, will say, "Dear me! surely Richard cannot admire her, if she is like Mr Trevor. Why he is six feet two; and then his face is so long and so sallow, with black whiskers; and he looked quite frightful the day he put on sister Eleanor's bonnet.' Nay, I feel it is as certain as that you, my fair sister, will put on a saucy smile, and say,- "Take care, brother; for, if Miss Trevor resemble her brother, she would, I fancy, rather hear her dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves her.' Beware of love's labour lost, and Rosamond's pond." It is as certain as that my dear mother will begin to look alarmed for her darling, and that my father will bid her be comforted, for that, from his knowledge of Dick's character, he would ensure his recovery from the most desperate of Cupid's wounds It is, in short, an event as certain as that I am, folly apart, my dear Fanny's very affectionate friend and brother, RICHARD DE COVERLEY. P. S.-By the bye, Trevor has manufactured a most shameful story, which I warn you not to believe. He declares that I fell in love with your description of Miss Melmoth, nay more, that he detected me next morning sighing over those common-place lines When at the bar of love you stand, For pilfering hearts in idle sport, The moment you hold up that hand "Twill prove your guilt to all the court. He even goes so far as to boast that he was more instrumental in effecting a cure than even your affecting history of poor Miss M- -'s misfortunes, by making me help him to rummage over a box of musty records, incessantly repeating, while the dust of time immemorial flew about our ears, his favourite motto, " Otia si tollas, periere Cupidinis arcus;" for which malice I charge you and my father to lay your heads together to invent a suitable revenge. I find Hervey has misdirected my frank; his blunder will preyent my dispatching this luminous epistle till to-morrow, or perhaps Thursday. Once more, dear sister, adieu. Friday, Sept. 8.-Amidst the manifold cross accidents that are daily occurring, I hold it to be matter of congratulation that I have two fortunate events to record. The first is, that we secured the house in Baker Street on Tuesday, for, had that not been the case, Sir Edward, the twelve children, and their multitudinous biped and quadruped followers must have pitched their tents in the Regent's Park, for no hotel, unless emptied of all its former inmates, could have accommodated them. The second is, that I did not, as I had previously intended, send off my letter yesterday morning, as it now affords me an opportunity of telling you, my dear Fanny, our subsequent adventures, and the steadfast purpose of our resolved minds to leave London before sun-rise on Tuesday, and arrive at Bandyborough in time for your Gothic dinner-hour on Wednesday the 20th. Trevor and I were yesterday in Baker Street, assisting Lady Mary with an opinion as to the best method of making the most orthodox confusion of the sofas, ottoman tables, cabinets, &c. &c. and planning how to convert a large laundry at the top of the house into a school-room, when, being drawn to the window by a tremendous uproar in the street, we beheld a mass of people crowded together before the house, and were saluted by the voice of old Samuel screaming from the vestibule," How d'ye do, Owen? How is't wi' you, Winny lass? My lady, here's some of the men and maids, and his Honour Sir Edward and the rest on 'um will be here afore dinner, my lady.". Then I am sure there will be no room for them here, said I; but, upon taking a second survey, I found, to my great relief, that, out of the countless multitudes I had interpreted into Sir Edward's suite, a dozen or fourteen persons only composed his advanced guard; the rest were jolly Londoners, who, attracted by the wondering exclamations of the party inside the carriage at the first sight of the shops in Oxford Street, and mistaking a rosy-cheeked Welch abigail, who was seated all agape upon the box, for the Queen, had followed the cavalcade, shouting, "Bless you, Queeny! We know you're innocent! Long life to |