ot only adorn the American woods with their gorgeous
colours, but make them vocal with never-ending song?

No, Monsieur! you could never have inhaled the perfume of these flowers,
nor listed to the melody of these sweet songsters; and sad it was of
you, and silly as sad, to have yielded to the prejudice of a slender
spirit, and denied their existence. Both exist--the singing birds and
the fragrant flowers--both exist, and thou art gone.

On such reflections I dwelt but for a moment; they were merely the
natural impressions of surrounding objects--short-lived sensations,
almost instantaneously passing away. The soul, benighted with love, has
neither eye nor ear for aught beyond the object of its passion. From
the contemplation of that only does it derive pleasure; and even the
fairest pictures of nature may be spread before it without challenging
observation. It was only that the one through which I was passing was
of such transcendent beauty--so like to some scene of paradise--that I
could not help regarding it with momentary admiration.

But my eyes soon returned to the earth, and once more taking up the
trace of the steed, I rode on.

I had advanced near the summit. The tracks were quite recent; the
branches that had been touched by the flanks of the horse had not yet
ceased to vibrate; the rider could not be far in advance. I fancied I
heard the hoof-stroke.

Silently I pressed on, expecting every moment to catch the gleam of the
scarlet manga, or the white sheen of the steed.

A few paces farther, and both were under my eyes, glittering through the
feathery frondage of the mimosas. I had followed the true track. The
rider was Isolina.

I saw that she had halted. She had reached the top of the hill, where
the growth of timber ceased. An opening of about an acre there was,
surrounded on all sides by the flowery woods--the very _beau-ideal_ of a
summer glade. The open summit commanded a view of the surrounding
country--for the hill was a high one--while the charming spot itself
enjoyed perfect privacy and repose.

In this glade, she had drawn up, and was sitting silently in the saddle
as if to enjoy the warbling of birds, the hum of the bees, and the
fragrance of flowers.

I myself drew rein, and remained for some moments in a state of
hesitancy, as to whether I should ride forward or go back. A feeling of
shame was upon me, and I believe I would have turned my horse and stolen
gently away, but j