as of noonday, shone upon the room--she opened my
curtains--she smiled upon me with the same placid smile as in her
lifetime. I felt no fear. "Elinor," she said, "for my sake take care
of young Allan,"--and I awoke with calm feelings.

Maria! shall not the meeting of blessed spirits, think you, he
something like this?--I think, I could even now behold my mother
without dread--I would ask pardon of her for all my past omissions of
duty, for all the little asperities in my temper, which have so often
grieved her gentle spirit when living. Maria! I think she would not
turn away from me.

Oftentimes a feeling, more vivid than memory, brings her before me--I
see her sit in her old elbow-chair--her arms folded upon her lap--a
tear upon her cheek, that seems to upbraid her unkind daughter for
some inattention--I wipe it away and kiss her honored lips.

Maria! when I have been fancying all this, Allan will come in, with
his poor eyes red with weeping, and taking me by the hand, destroy
the vision in a moment.

I am prating to you, my sweet cousin, but it is the prattle of the
heart, which Maria loves. Besides, whom have I to talk to of these
things but you?--you have been my counsellor in times past, my
companion, and sweet familiar friend. Bear with me a little--I mourn
the "cherishers of my infancy."

I sometimes count it a blessing that my father did not prove the
_survivor_. You know something of his story. You know there was a
foul tale current--it was the busy malice of that bad man, S----,
which helped to spread it abroad--you will recollect the active
good-nature of our friends W---- and T----; what pains they took to
undeceive people--with the better sort their kind labors prevailed;
but there was still a party who shut their ears. You know the issue
of it. My father's great spirit bore up against it for some time--my
father never was a _bad_ man--but that spirit was broken at the
last--and the greatly-injured man was forced to leave his old
paternal dwelling in Staffordshire--for the neighbors had begun to
point at him. Maria! I have _seen_ them _point_ at him, and have been
ready to drop.

In this part of the country, where the slander had not reached, he
sought a retreat--and he found a still more grateful asylum in the
daily solicitudes of the best of wives.

"An enemy hath done this," I have heard him say--and at such times my
mother would speak to him so soothingly of forgiveness, and
long-suffering, an