ed for his gallantry and promoted; and he may even now be returning home, in all the exultation of youth flushed with triumph!" Eliza's eyes had been dimmed by the tears that gushed into them, as her father alluded to the probable fall of her lover; but as his hopes revived, and he pictured his successful return, in the glow. ing language of a soldier and an enthusiast, her beautiful countenance brightened with the beams of joy, and she answered with fascinating and heartbounding animation-"Oh yes! my dear father. Heaven may have directed him to achieve the noblest actions, and have watched his safety through the battle. Let us still hope, my father, nor despair because he is silent. He may have been without the necessary implements of writing, or have wanted time, or opportunity; and I dare say, all who escaped, did not write to their friends!" Eliza sighed heavily, and tried but in vain to smile, as the tear swelled in her eye. "Aye, true, true! answered the venerable Coldnel;-but I fear the worst, continued he with a shake of the head; and now wish that I had never assented to his choice of that profession. Yet, had I denied him, he would have left me forever, to become a wretched, and needy wanderer through the world. What a strange and extraordinary compound of good and singular qualities did he possess ! So amiable, noble, and generous, and yet so headstrong and impetuous, when the independence of his spirit was even tacitly questioned; or he fancied he discerned an indirect allusion to his birth.-He always forced me to esteem and love him, in despite of his fiery and irritable spirit." Eliza sat listening with rapture to the encomiums so warmly lavished on Charles, by her father; and when he had concluded, she ardently exclaimed. "Yes, and how charitable and humane too! The poor and the decrepid always were sure of his suc⚫ cour and assistance. I shall never forget that it was be who first taught me to feel for the misery of others, and instructed me in the art of doing good from better motives than mere pride, or vanity.— Charles has a heart too tender for a soldier.-I am certain he never could participate in the vices and follies of a camp" "I would pledge my life for his honour! said the Colonel with great earnestness.-In whatever situation he is placed, he will always fulfil his duty, and even acquire honour where others would reap only disgrace Poor Charles, would I were certain of his fate. For now I mourn for him, as if he were dead, and yet feel, when I speak or think of him, as if he were present." Eliza was relapsing into her former melancholy, when the attention of both was drawn to a vehicle, that drove up with great rapidity, and stopped at the door of the Colonel's dwelling. But it is necessary to say a few words touching the personage that excited so intense an interest in the old Revolutionary Soldier and his lovely daugh ter. Charles Bancroft was a foundling, adopted by the venerable person whose name he now bore, by whom bre was educated as his son, and the brother and companion of Eliza ;-between whom, as they grew up together, a mutual and ardent passion took place. Charles, now Captain Bancroft, no sooner became conscious of the mystery in which his birth was involved, than a deep melancholy settled upon his mind, and made him a victim to the most complete wretchedness and misanthropy, to escape from which as well as to acquire an honourable reputation above the character of a foundling and a dependent, he had resolved to obtain a commission in the army.-Dur ing his youth, and whilst engaged in study at College, he had passed under the appellation of the young philosopher, a title which his melancholy, as well as genius, had invited.-Endowed with a mind of sensibility, and possessing a handsome face and a graceful person, it was not singular, that he should make a deep and romantic impression upon the susceptible heart of Eliza; which her father not only approved, but encouraged; and engaged that upon the return of the Captain from the army, he would settle half his fortune upon his daughter, and join their hands at the Altar.-In anxious expectation of this event, every occurrence was calculated to agitate with hopes and fears, both the father and the daughter. Many suspicious circumstances, had at times occurred, to throw a gleam of light upon the mysterious parentage of Captain Bancroft; but nothing decisive had thus far happened in relation to the only subject which poisoned all his earthly enjoyments. It might be a weakness of the mind; it might be a morbid disposition ;-still it was a source of intense misery to him, and he knew not a medicament that could soothe or paralyze the corroding thoughts that preyed upon him, respecting his unknown parents.— Why did they cast him off? why blush to own him? why doom him to an existence of endless torture? were questions repeated by the mind in vain-suspicion and conjecture only framed answers, calculated to harrass and embitter every hour of his life. But to return to the scene we set out to describe. The Colonel no sooner heard the carriage stop at the door, than unable to restrain his impatience, he rushed into the hall, expecting every moment to meet and to fold the Captain in his arms, as he entered the front door.-But he turned back disappointed, as he observed the servant who was just conducting a gentleman in deep mourning, towards the drawing room. It was not the Captain.-The gentleman entered, and being seated thus addressed the Colonel. My name, Sir, is Huntley.—I am sorry to be the bearer of melancholy tidings-but Death, Sir, is the lot of all, and sooner or later, all must bow before his powerful sword." "Then he has really fallen! exclaimed the venerable Colonel. My apprehensions were but too true! Unfortunate Charles! wretched, miserable father!" A scream from Eliza now attracted the attention of both; and as she was falling to the ground in a state of insensibility, her father caught her in his arms. THE AUTHOR'S JEWEL, NUMBER XXII. THE YOUNG SOLDIER. The cold in clime are cold in blood, There love can scarce deserve the name; But mine was like the lava flood That boils in Etna's breast of flame. I cannot prate in puling strain The Giaour. Eliza was soon restored to a consciousness of life; but not to serenity of mind. The supposed sudden death of a beloved object, and that object a youthful lover, strikes the heart with a sensation of horror, not to be conceived by any but those who have felt it.-Perceiving the Colonel's daughter recovered from her swoon, Mr. Huntley observed:-"I fear I have been the means of producing some painful error, Sir, in regard to the object of my visit. You mentioned a person of the name of Charles.—I have not yet the pleasure to be acquainted with that gentleman. I came to announce the death of his peni tent mother, and to restore him, at least to a know. ledge of his parents, if not to the honours of his birthright." R |