dialect he was able to express himself, "it maks my heart sair to see you spending your siller in siccan houses as Luckie Dibble's, amang a wheen limmers, and taking up with the like o' Sir Belfry, and ither do-na-gude fallows like him, although it's weel ken't that ye're as puir as a church mouse, and's just hanging by the door-cheeks. And besides a', ye're killing yoursel' with your ain hand as fast as ye can; as a weel-wisher, although we ne'er had muckle acquaintance, I maun mak free to tell you, that ye're just like ane taking a ram-race to jump heels o'er head into perdition. As true as death, ye're a ruined man, Sir Hector, baith soul and body, unless you alter."

At the present moment, Sir Hector was on the very worst terms with himself, and during the Laird's expostulation, the reproaches of his own mind were still far more insupportable to him than even the Laird's upbraiding him with vice and folly. For a few moments, he stood motionless on the floor; then bursting into a flood of tears, he threw himself on his bed, where he lay writhing in agony in a fit of despair. As soon as he so far recovered himself as to be able to speak, "leave me," said he to the Laird, "for I am a lost man."

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"I will leave you presently," replied the Laird; "but afore I bid you fareweel, I have only to say, that if ye'll come out and live a sober life on your ain estate in the country, and leave aff keeping company wi' the worthless conjaumphry that ye hae lang ta'en up wi', and instead o' them, look out a decent marrow; if ony time ye're short o' siller, I'll no see you ill aff for a hun'er pound, or twa, nor three either."

"A friend in need is a friend indeed," for in a short time the Laird persuaded Sir Hector to rise and finish dressing himself, and according to his

friendly advice, having fortified his stomach with a glass of cogniac brandy, he found himself able to take a short walk, during which they discussed, con amore, the happy independence of a country life. As the Laird was about to return into Lanarkshire, they parted, mutually expressing their good wishes for each other's future prosperity and happiness, when the Baronet returned to his lodgings, fully determined to turn his back upon Luckie Dibble and all her inmates, together with all his former licentious associates and bad habits.

As the Laird sat down to breakfast by himself, at the hotel, the young gentlemen having finished their dejeune, and were gone to Lady Kittymuir's to wait on the ladies, he could not dismiss from his thoughts the present unhappy situation of Sir Hector, although he entertained considerable hopes of his amendment. While he was revolving these affairs in his mind, his hopes received a check from his friend Lord Ringsdale, who came to inquire if he had seen any thing of Sir Belfry or Sir Hector since last night, to whom he communicated the particulars of which our readers are just now fully apprised. The Earl shook his head significantly, in silence, as the Laird mentioned Sir Hector's good intentions, and dropping this subject, other topics more immediately connected with their own concerns engaged their attention.

VOL. II.

CHAPTER IV.

THE ADIEU.

Friends so near my bosom ever,
Ye have rendered moments dear;
But, alas! when forced to sever,

Then the stroke, oh! how severe.

BURNS.

As neither Laird Shadow nor the Earl purposed to make any stay in the city, having little other business besides making arrangements with the royal bank respecting the money that Mr. Barber's executors had already deposited there on the Laird's account, which were soon transacted to their satisfaction; and as they were about to return to the country, the young people had but little time to enjoy each other's company. But in love concerns, as divines tell us of the intercourse of celestial spirits in a state of bliss, which they say requires not the aid of words, but by a simple act of volition, their thoughts are revealed to one another in holy vision with the rapidity of lightning or the radiation of the solar light; and as every one knows that the sense of sight is of a more elevated and spiritual nature than any of the other senses, so the kind glance of a maiden's eye speaks volumes to an ardent lover, even if it should express that his wishes cannot immediately be complied with, when, as the poet says,

"The smile came o'er her bonny e'e,
I canna leave my mammy.”

'Hope is the anchor of the soul,' and of lovers too, and many a youth, when under the influence of this happy delusion, as we often hear it called, which, if it be delusion at all, is at least a happy one, would think himself amply compensated for a long journey if he could only exchange one loving look with his sweetheart, if the watchful jealousy of her guardians or other obstacles prevented his speaking to her. And although with that caution which naturally accompanies more advanced years, we might be desirous to obtain a more substantial proof of a lady's love, yet we will acknowledge, that under certain unsuspicious circumstances, a sweet smile is very gratifying. And we confess, that there was a time when, had a relentless beauty, after all our sighs. and vows, not have even graciously deigned to acknowledge this language of the eyes, that we might perhaps have thought ourselves highly honoured by being permitted to carry her fan, or her reticule, or her parasol, although we might not have ventured to have offered her our arm in walking with her. But still further, that if we enjoyed but a very small share of the young lady's good graces of which we were enamoured, that had it only been our lot for a few minutes to have held an umbrella over her head, as we accidentally met her caught in a shower, that the performance of this mere act of civility, would long have been remembered by us, like all other devotees and Love's humble bondmen, and probably we might afterwards, with great emotion, have talked of the heartfelt delight which we enjoyed while we performed one of the most servile rites of adoration, even among the dulia at the shrine of beauty. Speaking therefore in the language of calculators, there is really no saying what value Goslington might put upon the occasional en

joyment of Lady Rosa's company a short time. for a few days, and once at least during this visit, he walked with her arm and arm.

If therefore our young friend Goslington had but little time to spend in Lady Rosa's company, and but few opportunities of conversing with her, till he learned that the Earl and his father having nothing further in the way of business to detain them in Edinburgh, were to set off almost immediately for the country: still he had the happiness of knowing that her heart and hand were equally disengaged, and that if his own hopes of ever being her avowed admirer were but very small, and as he feared, delusive, he was now perfectly satisfied that Sir Belfry was no rival at present; and from the dissolute life that he led, the low company with whom he associated in his hours of revelry, although he also mixed with the first society, and sometimes called at Lady Kittymuir's, that to have paid her the slightest attention farther than the most distant salutation in passing her, even in the street, would have been considered by her as an insult.

He had, besides, reminiscences of a yet more consolatory nature to build his hopes upon than any that had heretofore befallen him.

During his first evening's conversation with Lady Rosa, as they walked by themselves, Jonathan and Peggy being at some distance behind them, her ladyship having expressed the great happiness which the good fortune of his family afforded her, very particularly mentioned that her papa had astonished her, by informing her of his being possessed of a portrait of the unfortunate Lady Ringsdale, whose family had perished in the rebellion. It was not the mere circumstance of her mentioning this portrait, nor even the anxiety which he expressed of seeing it, but he thought that he caught her