nd true love, as we gazed upon that quiet ocean, from the vine-covered
window of our quiet, sweet, secluded home! Day after day, we wandered
among the woods in the neighbourhood, and rejoiced, at each successive
visit, to find out new beauties. This continued for some time; till at
last, on returning one day, we saw an unusual bustle in the room we
occupied. On entering, we found our landlady hurrying out in great
confusion, and, along with her, a beautiful, blushing girl, so perfectly
ladylike in her appearance, that we wondered by what means our venerable
hostess could have become acquainted with so interesting a visiter. She
soon explained the mystery; this lady, who seemed more bewitching every
moment that we gazed on her, was the daughter of a 'squire in whose
family our worthy landlady had been nurse. She had come, without knowing
that any lodger was in the house, and was to stay a week. Oh! that week!
the happiest of our life. We soon became intimate; our books lay fast
locked up at the bottom of our trunk: we walked together, saw the sun
set together in the calm ocean, and then walked happily and contentedly
home in the twilight; and long before the week was at an end, we had
vowed eternal vows, and sworn everlasting constancy. We had not, to
be sure, discovered any great powers of mind in our enslaver; but how
interesting is even ignorance, when it comes from such a beautiful
and smiling mouth! We had already formed happy plans of moulding her
unformed opinions, and directing and sharing all her studies. The little
slips which were observable in her grammar, we attributed to want of
care; and the accent, which was very powerful, was rendered musical to
our ear, at the same time as dear to our heart, by the whiteness of the
little arm that lay so quietly and lovingly within our own. And then,
her taste in poetry was not the most delicate or refined; but she was so
enthusiastically fond of it, that we imagined a little training would
lead her to prefer many of Mr. Moore's ballads, to the pathos of Giles
Scroggins; and that in time, the "Shining River" might occupy a superior
place, in her estimation, to a song from which she repeated, with tears
in her eyes--,

"But like the star what lighted
Pale billion to its fated doom,
Our nuptial song is blighted,
And its rose quench'd in its bloom."

And then, she seemed so fond of flowers, and knew so much about their
treatment, that we fancied how lovely sh