came back to her cheek and the light to her eye, and she started up from her pillow, held out her thin white hands, and cried, My husband is here! I hear his voice! I see him now! Ernest, dearest, I am coming!' and with these words on her lips, and the smile of an angel as she was and is, please God," said Morgan, her voice sinking into a whisper, "she fell back gently into my arms, and was gone from this weary world for ever." Some days must have elapsed, when Morgan informed us that she had written as well as she could to our rich relatives: to my father's elder brother, Squire Denne, down in Kent, and to Mr. Otho Harington, in Manchester; that the latter had replied by return of post, enclosing a cheque for twenty pounds, in a letter of which the following is a transcript: "MRS. MORGAN, "Manchester. "YOURS to hand this morning, stating the death of Mrs. Denne. I send herewith a cheque for 201. (say, twenty pounds), part of which will serve to forward my godson to Manchester, under the care of Major Denne's trustworthy servant, Michael Price, as soon as convenient; the balance (if any) I beg you to keep as a mark of my respect for your attention to your late mistress. "I feel deeply for the remaining orphans; but in taking their elder brother entirely under my care, I conceive that I am doing the best in my power to assist the whole family. "Your obedient servant, "OTHO HARINGTON." The next letter Morgan received was from Squire Denne, and ran as follows "MY GOOD MORGAN, "Daundelyonn. "As I shall be in town to-morrow, or next day at latest, I will keep all I have to say until then. In the meantime rest assured that my brother's children will never need a home or friend whilst I am above the sod; nor will your own faithful services or Michael's ever be forgotten by me. VOL. I. With much sympathy, "I am yours, &c. "EDWARD DENNE." E The third epistle arrived a few days later, and was thus penned "MRS. MORGAN, "Celle, Hanover. "YOUR letter reached me yesterday. As it is impossible for me to return to town in time for the funeral, I would suggest that, as soon as propriety will allow, after the ceremonial, the infant should be christened. It might be advisable to name it after its father, and I request that the medical adviser of my family, Dr. Harland, may be allowed to stand as my substitute; as, under the peculiar circumstances of the case, I deem it my duty to be its godfather. "I presume Major Denne's brother has by this time received an intimation of what has occurred. "The children may remain in my house until some better arrangement can be made for them. "AUBREY HARCOURT." These letters have always struck me as being so characteristic, that all comment appears superfluous; and I take it for granted that those who read them will at once set down their respective writers as the formal, but kind and considerate man of business, the warm-hearted country gentleman, and the cold, haughty, but not utterly heartless disciple of fashion: a conclusion at which Morgan quickly arrived, unaided in all save by her native Welsh cunning, and which our after experiences verified to the letter. The Welsh are not now a romantic people, whatever they may have been in the days of old: "Cold is Cadwallo's tongue That hushed the stormy main; Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed: But one poetical peculiarity still prevails among them; one which of late years we have wisely copied. I allude to the affecting habit of paying a deeply reverential, but somewhat fantastic tribute to the dead, and by adorning their graves with flowers. The burial-place of a wild hill-side church among the mountains will, in the luxuriance and beauty of the shrubs and flowers which adorn it, often rival the "pleasaunce" of many a stately mansion. The poetical beauty of this custom of deck ing the last resting-place of one whom we have loved and honoured in life has always struck me as peculiarly touching; more perhaps than it has others, on account of the early recollections associated with it. Morgan having decided in her own mind that we should be allowed to see our mother once again, principally to counteract the effect produced upon our impressible minds by her staring eyes and wild manner when last we beheld her, as we should see the calm and peaceful repose which was now the characteristic of her countenance and perhaps also to give us an opportunity of indulging in that demonstrative sorrow which has a kind of hideous charm for those of Morgan's station-we were dressed in our new mourning, taken down in succession, and allowed one parting glance at our mother in her coffin. Florence and Angelica were so cold and frightened that they were more like people under the influence of a frightful dream than anything with which I can compare them. Otho was roused out of the somewhat sulky sorrow which had hitherto been his character |