mori prophetic of my end. I was now totally alone; the vital spark had fled from my favourite cigar-its last graceful curl of smoke turned as with a parting kiss upon my bent and thoughtful head, and dissolved like a dream away in the singing zephyr. I stole meditatively to my box of cigars, more sensible, every step, of my forlorn condition. I was in the act of taking another weed from the box, when the thought flashed as a courier past all others, and I candidly demanded, Who gave me these cigars?—'Who?' cried I, asking the empty winds, and startled Echo mocked me. 'Yes' cried I, brightening up like an April sky as the delicious thought lit up my very soul, 'HELEN gave me these cigars! I will in return offer her-what less?—my heart!' Big with the joyful thought, I hastened to her home, smoking even other four to soothe the excitement of delicious dreams that now reigned triumphant in my bosom. The fourth cigar opened me the valley of life again; but, lo! no longer was the road of rock and precipice-no longer I saw the solitary man wending his weary way; no-all was changed, flowers, beautiful flowers, nodded a welcome around, songs of birds carolled in rivalry of music on every waving tree, and I beheld a youth and maiden tripping in the midst, and the most comfortable old pair sitting, surrounded by innumerable children, waiting for them, 'neath a woodbined cottage porch, in the distance. My soil was fire! my heart grew and panted with unusual might. I was at Helen's door! She was at home. I flew into her presence-there was a man with her! I cried out, in the strength of my love,' Helen!' She moved slowly toward me,—the angel moved slowly to the door-it flew open to her gentle touch. I was outside. She tripped lightly from my side a moment, and I heard her own sweet lips shout into the very ears of the strange man, 'Are you not nearly choked? Throw up the window! Oh gracious! how unbearably that puppy stinks of tobacco-smoke!' I rushed, like a cannon-ball, I knew not whither.-I dashed the hated cigars, box and all that belonged to them, upon the floor of my desolate room; I danced the Indian war-whoop upon their scattered and hated fibres-and I am still alive!"

The conclusion of the Doctor's story drew forth much laughter and applause. Mr. Burchell, who had dwelt upon it from its commencement with the most earnest attention, was convulsed with laughter at

its conclusion. The evening whiled agreeably away. A plan was proposed and duly arranged for performing a visit to the top of Table Mountain, the first opportunity. Mr. Burchell had offered his vineyard for the use of the emigrants, who were to be landed for a runashore to-morrow, and all was gay,—the ladies expressing their determination to visit Mr. Burchell frequently during their stay, and that gentleman goodnaturedly assuring them that he had many a treat in store, especially the aloe bouquet. The gentlemen quaffed another and still another parting-glass, pronouncing it very much improving upon acquaintance; whilst the lone Doctor gave way to his ruminations, and sallied forth smoking, at the very least computation, according to Miss Blair, his four-and-twentieth cigar!

CHAPTER XX.

"All things are here of them."-Childe Harold.

"Now, dear Pauline," said Lady Briscoe, as they were sitting in the orange-bower in the garden of the Government House,-"Now, dear, do let me hear a little of your romance. I cannot bear to gaze upon you, love, and to think that in so young and fragile a creature, the wormthe canker-worm-should be gnawing in fatal secret the promising flower. You little imagine, love, that I have been expecting you some time back. Lord B. said, the probability was you would honour me with a visit; and at the receipt of his first letter, I merely imagined that you were about to be married, and that the envied man was upon some out-of-the-way errand going to bring you to the Cape: but his Lordship's second letter, saying you were actually about to depart, and without any allusion to a gentleman, caused me a good deal of speculation. Now, my dear, you are here, absolutely alone, and not going to remain with me, as I fondly indulged the hope, but proceeding to the Australian Colonies! I am sure, love, you will readily excuse my freedom of remark, but really-to see-to consider-it appears to me a romance in real life and then you are so pensive, so lone in your habits, I could almost guess what is really the foundation of all this.—But no, dear Pauline, I cannot bear to see you weep; be assured that you are too dear to me. I fear I have been so unfortunate as to cause you pain. Be assured I shall never forgive myself if I have offended you. I will never more allude to the subject. I am but too happy to enjoy your visit, short as it appears it will be."

"Dear lady," gently said Pauline, looking upon her friend through a starting tear, and warmly pressing her hand, "you will, I am sure,

forgive me; you have not given me pain-it is I that have caused uneasiness in your generous bosom, possibly by my rashness. To whom could I confide the secret of my bosom-to whom indeed! more worthy than dear Lady Briscoe? Pardon the erring weakness of your sex, and look down upon me with forgiveness. I fear I have erred in my decision; but it has been an error of judgment, not of the heart. Listen to me with tenderness, my mother's friend, and pity my unhappy condition.—I was engaged to a gentleman in our adjoining county-I fear we only loved too deeply; the day was already appointed for our marriage-every arrangement had been made, and—” Compose yourself, dear," kindly said Lady Briscoe.

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- And," continued Pauline, as the time drew nigh, we were never a day without being in each other's company. It was late one evening, Charles (that was his name) was returning to a gentleman's house in the neighbourhood, when, in crossing a meadow, the night being very dark, he stumbled upon something which lay in his path. He stooped down to examine what it was: it was the body of a man! Charles felt the face-it was warm; he endeavoured to raise the body by main strength, when he was seized by the throat, and received a terrible cut with a knife on the back of his head. Charles instantly released hold of the man, and hastened to the nearest cottage for assistance. It was a tavern, and several persons were in it drinking. The whole party, upon hearing the alarm, instantly with lanthorns repaired to the meadow. There they found the man just in the same part where Charles had left him. He was not quite dead, but had a most fearful gash on his forehead, which was bleeding profusely. Upon one of the party inquiring who did the deed, the man faintly gurgled, 'Him— it was him!' alluding, as it appeared to all, to my unfortunate Charles. The wounded man was instantly conveyed to the tavern, when parties were despatched for a doctor. The doctor soon arrived, and Charles, in his presence, demanded of the dying man whether it was he who wounded him; to which the man, in his last gasp, uttered, 'Yes.' Hereupon the doctor took down the evidence; and Charles, in his confusion, endeavoured to relate what had happened: but he was too bewildered with the awful charge laid to him, to make himself appear innocent, and the bloody state of his hands and clothes from his con

tact with the unfortunate deceased-not to mention the gash at the back of his neck, which the dying man had evidently made under the delusion that Charles was one of his murderers, these circumstances went against poor Charles; but one weighed far heavier than all the rest against him, and that was, the man who had been thus brutally deprived of life was a gamekeeper, residing upon a neighbouring estate, with whom poor Charles had had, unfortunately, some recent dispute. All this being stated, taken down, and sworn to in presence of the doctor, that functionary handed my poor dear innocent Charles into the custody of the police. The crime with which he was charged did not admit of bail, and the Assizes hurrying rapidly on, he was arraigned as a murderer at the bar.

During this awful period, I, in common with his friends, felt but little fear that his innocence would be immediately established. He employed no counsel, trusting to the innocence of his heart to acquit him. What, then, was our horror-who can paint the blow that was in store for us!-after a long trial, and a vast store of circumstantial evidence, the Jury pronounced him Guilty; and the Judge, in commenting upon the enormity of his crime, told him his life would be spared in consideration of his youth and the former good character he had borne; but he implored him to exercise the remainder of those days it should please a merciful God to allow him to live, in supplication in prayer, as an atonement for his great sin; and he (the Judge) would not advise him to entertain the slightest hope of remaining in this country-he must be transported for life.

"On hearing this dreadful sentence, Charles, with a loud and untrembling voice, thus spoke :-' My Lord, and Gentlemen of the Jury, I have been arraigned and convicted by my countrymen of committing one of the foulest crimes with which it is possible to stain humanity. I have already told you how I unfortunately became mixed up in this matter. I have stood before you unassisted by advice or Counsel. I am as innocent, even now after you have thought it your conscientious duty to convict me-I am as free from the stain of that man's death-as my Judge who now occupies his seat before me. I am guiltless in the eyes of God-I am proud even in my misfortunes, and triumph over my unhappy fate. My intentions to the murdered man