The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1838-07-17 00:00:00

PART IL-SuAIIER.

How delightful it is at the evening hour, after a long sultry
summer's day, to retreat from the world's bustle, and leaving
the town and its attractions behind us, indulge in the " wildly
devious" rural walk—to pass through the waving corn—to
wander o'er the flowery mead—to wind along the stream,
and listen to its murmurings, or watch the quick-eyed trout in
wanton sport—to thread the woody maze, or to ascend the
verdant hill, and, reclining on its brow, watch the last rays
of the setting sun as he sinks in the distant horizon, display-
ing the unsurpassed beams of his effulgence as they are re-
flo,te,l anon the spires of the distan' village .".
fringed rivulet, with Image—and on every
object, animate or inanimate, white they are vivified by the
powerful influence of his genial rays.
It was a beautiful evening in the.pleasant month of August,
about two months after the arrival of the troops, that the
forms of two persons were seen moving slowly in the direc-
tion of , a romantic village in the vicinity of \V
They had just entered a deep glen, abounding with the wild •
est scenery, through which a noble meandering stream ran
murmuring on, losing itself within the " covert of a hazel
copse;" from the base of the forest-crowned heights gushed
forth a silvery rill, adding its slender tribute to the parent
stream; whilst the plaintive breeze that everand anon played
amongst the branches of the lofty pines and aged oaks above,
wafted through the glen the fragrance of the sparkling dew-
bedecked wild flowers and shrubs that graced the sylvan
scene.

The two persons gradually proceeded. The female was
hanging fondly on the arm of her companion, a tall young
man; whilst the latter was breathing into the ear of the
fond girl vows of lasting attachment, and kissing off the
pearly tears that fell fast and thick upon her pallid cheek.
Dear girl," said he, " dry your tears. It is true, I must
leave you to-morrow; but I shall be absent only for a short
time ; the happy moment will soon arrive, when I shall return
—never more to leave thee."

Scalding tears and hitter sighs were the only answers he
received ; and after a short pause he exclaimed impatiently:
" Mary, this is childish!—you doubt my word—then you
do not love me."

The devoted girl raised her eyes, and gazing earnestly on
he. companion's face fur some moments, sobbed—
" N d love you !" and the poor girl's heart was fit to break.
" Well, wed," replied he, " I did not mean what I said.
Forgive ine, Mary, I never doubted your affection. I know
sun love me—and I love you—to distraction ! Do you doubt
me ?—no—you do not—you do not!" And he pressed her
passionately to his bosom, and bestowed love's fond kisses on
her yielding lips.
And the credulous girl smiled through her tears as the
seducer soothed her mind with hopes of future happiness—
of love and joy—of the blissful moment of their union.
Poor Mary ! that was a dream too pleasing—a moment too
distant—a fond hope, alas! never to be realized ! The man
she adored was a villain, and she was betrayed !
When the ensuing morning dawned, the inhabitants of
W— beheld the departure of the military. By their prompt
exertions the ringleaders had been brought to justice, and
punished; the riot was fully quelled, and the neighbourhood
restored to its former propriety. It was market morning;
and the troops, as they passed on, received the boisterous
plaudits of the assembled multitude ; the sun shone brightly
on the animated scene, and every eye beamed with seeming
tokens of joy. But there was one wretched being at least
present. Mary Morris had viewed the retiring forms of the
soldiers, as they gradually receded from her anxious gaze;
and when the last echo of their horses' hoofs died upon her
ear, she felt heartbroken—alone; without a ray of happiness
to cheer her soul. The man she so fervently loved was gone
from her, perhaps for ever! The painful thought was more
than her excited feelings could sustain; her brain became
dizzy—sense was suspended; she fainted and fell—not to
the earth—but in the arms of one who, though disregarded,
still loved her with a pure and lasting love.
Edward Griffiths was the son of a wealthy farmer, residing
at W—; his family were on terms of particular intimacy
with Hugh Morris and his fair daughter. Edward bad known
Mary since they were children, and played together at the
farm, where she was often invited by his sisters: she then
called him her dear brother—told him of all her little plea-
sures and all her pains, in which he most cheeringly partici-
pated—feeling proud of such a sister. But as time advanced,
and brought Mary towards womanhood, she became more re-
served towards her companions, and made few visits at the
farm, although she was much attached to Edward and his
sisters. But Edward, on the contrary, never changed. He
still remained the same devoted being. Mary was the dear
idol of his soul. He had loved her in his boyish days—he
now adored her in manhood. His passion was of that pure,
that lasting nature, which neither time nor circumstances
could efface, and which is seldom to be found in any other
state but that of unsophisticated life. Often had he resolved
to discover to her the real state of his heart—to tell her how
devotedly he loved her—that she was the dear subject of his
sleeping and waking hours; and that his future happiness
depended, upon her fiat! But the dreadful thought of his
being refused—despised—caused him to waver in his reso-
lution.
Mary was no longer the lively, giddy girl she once was:
she was changed both in form and disposition ! No longer
could be heard the merry laugh the rattling chatter that
amused her companions; no longer was the arch smile to be
seen that once danced in her eve, and interested the be-
holder ! The pallid cheek, the tearful eye, the half-suppressed
heaving of the heart, were indeed tokens of a change!
Hugh Morris had long since witnessed the humid eyes and
changed manner of his beloved daughter; and often had he
anxiously enquired of her the cause—was she unwell ?—did
she want anything?—was she unhappy ? To all which in-
terrogatories she ever replied, she was well—very well; did
nut want anything—was quite happy.
But at length the truth, the dreadful conviction flashed
across his mind. Her pallid cheek, her altered form, her
inelancho'y manner, betrayed to his agonized mind, what
Mary" would have, given worlds to conceal.
Oh ! how the old man lamenfed- hiS folly, his "Vlindriessi
his imprudence! He could not blame his poor child; he
alone was to blame for not having watched over her! But
many were the curses—deep, withering curses—he bestowed
on the villain who, taking advantage of his position, had
been so unprincipled, as to gratify his vanity at the sacrifice
of a female's honour and a family's peace !
As Marv's situation became every day more palpable, she
removed, agreeably to her father's wishes, to the house of a
relation, residing in a neighbouring village; and some time
after she gave birth to her offspring; a tedious illness ensued,
and her life was in imminent danger.
( To be continued.)

SECONDARY EVIDENCE EXTRAORDINARY!-At the late
Northumberland quarter sessions in Hex ham a learned coun-
sel put in a certificate to prove that the last winter was unu-
sualif redolent of frost and snow ! The court thought it pos-
sible that some persons :night be alive who could speak to the
fact, and the certificate was laughed out of the learned gen-
tleman's hands.—Sunderland Paper.