presence, or even his demeanour, being a check upon the honest sentiments of our united families on such an occasion; and he knew the character of his youngest daughter too well, to impute her conduct to any thing but innate dignity and innocence. It was now his turn to add a word: "My children," said he, "we will sleep on this, and talk it over to-morrow.". I passed the rest of the evening in conversing with Eliza. I told her, that she only had possession of my heart from my earliest years; but that I did confess, I had not been conscious of the extent and power of my affection until this very day, for that I did not dare to think of it as a motive to action. I could not venture to propose to myself taking her from safety into danger, and perhaps from happiness to misery; but the honest avowal of her sentiments had at once decided me; and on my return to my uncle I would tell him frankly, that without her I would not go to Honduras. This was well; it was something like herself frank, undissembling, and explicit: and flowing from the same pure source of an unfeigned attachment. With these and such like conversations we passed the time, until our departure for the farm; and our returning walk was even more happy than when going thence, under the exhilarating influence of high anticipation.

a

On the morrow we again visited our friends at the parsonage, and spent the day with them, long and happy day, embracing the past, the present, and the future. I cannot trust myself to venture recounting the circumstances of our delightful intercourse; and a few days more, like to the last

in sweetness but not intensity, completed my present visit to my native village. I had arranged every thing with my revered tutor and pastor, and he promised to confide to me his beloved daughter.

I left them early in the morning of the 26th of September, with a promise quickly to return. My horse went lazily home, and I felt no disposition to hurry him; my thoughts took an opposite direction to that which occupied them when on my way to revisit those from whom I was now receding. I had my hopes and fears as to the future. The past was for the time blotted from my memory, if I except the happy days so lately passed at Awbury; but those days seemed to constitute my present existence.

I arrived late in the evening at my uncle's, and was glad that he had gone to the club; so, after taking tea quietly with my aunt, I retired to rest. In the morning we met at breakfast: the old gentleman was happy to see me, talked over the business at Honduras, told me the brig was getting ready, that we were to touch at Jamaica, land some of the cargo there, and take in lumber, with some other articles, for the Bay; and that his correspondent at Kingston would put me in the way to obtain a few useful things for my better accommodation at St. George's Key; where his son had resided for nearly a year, in little better than a negro hut; and so forth. I heard him with a courteous attention, and then thought it right for the purpose now nearest my heart to say, "Dear uncle, may I ask you one or two questions?"-"Certainly, Ned! certainly! a hundred, if you like, so they be short

ones."

"Then, first, uncle, how long do you suppose I may have to stay there?"—"Till you make so much money, Ned, that you cannot spend it without coming to England: keep that in mind, boy so make haste in your calling."-" Well but, sir, that may not be accomplished as long as I live." - "Oh yes, Ned, I don't think thee hast a great stomach for wealth."-"But, sir, you wished my questions to be short; will you make the answers so? May I be five, or six, or seven, or ten years at St. George's Key?"-"Yes, perhaps you may; not less than five or six years, certainly."

"Then, my dear uncle, I should not like to live there a bachelor, and perhaps get into immoral connections, that would degrade me in my own eyes, and in the opinion of those I love."— The old gentleman laughed immoderately, stood up, held his sides, and laughed and coughed, exclaiming at intervals, "Ned, you will be the death of me!" I knew not what to think of this; but my aunt made him sit down, saying, “Mr. Seaward, our nephew is right; I like his sentiments."-"He is an ass, and you are a fool!" he replied, looking morosely at her; " I don't want any of your prudery and nonsense; I will talk to him." walked out, and left us together. within me. In imagination I had my dear Eliza living with me in ease and affluence, enjoying the bright sunshine of my prosperity, under the patronage of my uncle. A cloud now hung over me, which I expected to burst with a thunder storm, the minute my aunt quitted the room. But my uncle was a wag in his way: he began to laugh im

The old lady My heart sunk already beheld

moderately again; then recovering himself, said, "It's better to marry than burn; eh, Ned?" and continued his laughing fit. He was then able to resume: "That's it, Ned, eh? but where is the wife to be had at so short a notice? We can't give an order for her Bale, No. 1., marked E. S., Ned, eh ?" He then took another hearty laugh to himself, and became quiet. I was now at ease, being convinced there was no surly humour on his part, but the contrary, and thought this was my auspicious moment. I at once told him the whole affair of my engagement to Eliza Goldsmith. He heard me out, in a business-like manner; and after some pause said, "Well, Ned, it's your affair, not mine; and if you are bent on it, I'll do my part. How the speculation will turn out, thee don't know, and I can't tell thee: these sort of articles, that we take for better for worse, not being allowed to try the sample, don't always answer expectation; but thee may'st be more fortunate, than some other people; and, as there is no time to lose, get thy business done; and, if thee likes, we will put her and thee in the manifest." He finished by shaking me by the hand, kindly and warmly, saying, "Ned! married or single, I will always be as a father to thee, boy." I hope I thanked him as I ought: I am sure if I thanked him as I wished, I did thank him as I ought. He desired me to return the next day to Awbury, and finish my business.

On the morning of the next day, on wishing me a prosperous journey, he put a little parcel into my hand for my bride, which I had the happiness to deliver before night; it was a hundred-pound bank

note, a very acceptable wedding present. Time pressed hard; there was no leisure for calling in church; I must return to Bristol, to employ a proctor to procure a licence. My uncle, on seeing me, and learning the cause of my being back so soon, was rather testy about loss of time; it being of great importance to get the brig off, as the month of October was advancing. I could not obtain the licence under ten days; but, that we might make the most of the interval, I requested my dear uncle and aunt, to invite my sister Maria and Eliza Goldsmith to Bristol, to have the opportunity of seeing their niece and my intended; and, moreover, I considered that the two young gentlewomen, in paying this visit, would be enabled to make a good use of my uncle's kind present for Eliza's outfit. My request was instantly complied with, and the invitation joyously accepted.

My uncle was equally delighted with his niece and with her friend; but Eliza was evidently my aunt's favourite: she went with her every where, chose every thing, bought every thing; while the dear girl received with thankfulness the attentions of the old lady.

The important paper was at length obtained; and my worthy uncle, with his spouse, proposed to accompany us to Awbury. We set off, a happy party. Mr. Goldsmith received us with his usual kindness: the wedding followed; my uncle was in high spirits, which often burst forth in boisterous joy. He brought some "Bristol man's milk" with him, as he called it-old sherry wine, bought of Mr. Sheriff Glisson- and with this he made merry,