delights. It cannot deprive you of the comfort of affording me examples
of fortitude and benevolence; nor me of the delight of consoling a
beloved parent. It cannot deaden our taste for the grand, and the
beautiful, or deny us the means of indulging it; for the scenes
of nature--those sublime spectacles, so infinitely superior to all
artificial luxuries! are open for the enjoyment of the poor, as well as
of the rich. Of what, then, have we to complain, so long as we are not
in want of necessaries? Pleasures, such as wealth cannot buy, will still
be ours. We retain, then, the sublime luxuries of nature, and lose only
the frivolous ones of art.'

St. Aubert could not reply: he caught Emily to his bosom, their tears
flowed together, but--they were not tears of sorrow. After this language
of the heart, all other would have been feeble, and they remained silent
for some time. Then, St. Aubert conversed as before; for, if his mind
had not recovered its natural tranquillity, it at least assumed the
appearance of it.

They reached the romantic town of Leucate early in the day, but St.
Aubert was weary, and they determined to pass the night there. In the
evening, he exerted himself so far as to walk with his daughter to view
the environs that overlook the lake of Leucate, the Mediterranean, part
of Rousillon, with the Pyrenees, and a wide extent of the luxuriant
province of Languedoc, now blushing with the ripened vintage, which the
peasants were beginning to gather. St. Aubert and Emily saw the busy
groups, caught the joyous song, that was wafted on the breeze, and
anticipated, with apparent pleasure, their next day's journey over this
gay region. He designed, however, still to wind along the sea-shore.
To return home immediately was partly his wish, but from this he was
withheld by a desire to lengthen the pleasure, which the journey gave
his daughter, and to try the effect of the sea air on his own disorder.

On the following day, therefore, they recommenced their journey through
Languedoc, winding the shores of the Mediterranean; the Pyrenees still
forming the magnificent back-ground of their prospects, while on their
right was the ocean, and, on their left, wide extended plains melting
into the blue horizon. St. Aubert was pleased, and conversed much with
Emily, yet his cheerfulness was sometimes artificial, and sometimes a
shade of melancholy would steal upon his countenance, and betray him.
This was soon chased away by