I must cease to think it bliss
To breathe my soul in every kiss,
O never let us marry!

* * * * *

THE SABLE APPARITION, OR MYSTERIOUS BELL ROPE.

_An extract from a Manuscript Novel._

"'Twas nothing more, indeed my dear uncle! No, indeed, 'twas nothing
more! Dear, dear, how could I suppose it to be any thing more? And yet I
even tremble now," exclaimed Miss Godfrey to her astonished uncle, as he
entered the house. "For heaven's sake, my beloved Frances what has thus
dreadfully alarmed you?" returned the old gentleman. "Tell me I beseech
you! I'm on the rack till I know what could possibly have the power of
alarming you to this dreadful degree. Come my sweet girl, compose
yourself and relate to me this "soul harrowing" tale; for I'm half
inclined (seeing you smile) to suppose it some imaginary evil." It is
indeed, sir, an imaginary evil, and a very foolish fear: I am very, very
angry with myself, and am seriously apprehensive, that in disclosing to
you my weakness, I shall draw down your very just animadversion; but if
you will give me a patient hearing, and not think me too circumstantial
in my narrative, I will give you then the seeming cause for the disorder
in which you found me." Do not fear censure from me my dear Frances, we
all have our weak moments; and I am convinced, a girl with my Fanny's
understanding, could not be so alarmed at a very trifling circumstance;
therefore proceed, my love; I will promise not to fall asleep over the
recital."

"Sitting in my dressing room at work, I was surprised by a very hasty
tap at the door, which I opened, when Monsieur l'Abbe appeared before
me, with his hair erect, his eyes starting from their sockets, and his
whole frame so convulsed with terror, that I momentarily expected the
wax taper which he bore in his hand would make a somerset on my muslin
dress. I begged him to inform me if he was ill? whether any thing had
alarmed him? if I should ring for his servant? He shook his head in
token of disapprobation of my last interrogatory, and in broken and
almost inarticulate accents, begged I would indulge him with a moment's
hearing. He then, with much difficulty, addressed me as follows:----

"You know Miss Godfrey, I am the last man in the world to be frightened
at bugbears, or in other words, superstition and I were ever sworn
enemies: I think, then, after reprobating this weakness in others for
fifty years, I have this