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ALINE.

AN OLD FRIEND'S STORY.

BY THE AUTHOR OF

"THE GAMBLER'S WIFE," "DAUGHTERS,"

"SYBIL LENNARD," &c. &c. &c.

"I cannot tell how the truth may be,

I say the tale as t'was said to me."

SCOTT.

VOL III.

LONDON:

T. C. NEWBY, 72. MORTIMER STREET,

CAVENDISH SQUARE.

1848.

ALINE.

CHAPTER I.

"Stately thy walls, and holy are the prayers,
Which day and night before thine altars rise;
Not statelier, towering o'er her marble stairs,
Flashed Sion's gilded dome to summer skies,
Not holier, while around him angels bow'd,
From Aaron's censer steamed the spicy cloud,
Before the mercy seat."

"Oh! precious things

KEEBLE.

The richly graced, the exquisite, are things

To fear, to love with trembling!"

MRS. HEMANS.

How time flies-and how we fly about this

little world of our's!

VOL. III.

B

Another year has passed-autumn has come round again since the scene at Merriford we last recorded-my readers must transport themselves into a place far remote, and into a very different scene, even the superb church of Santa Croce at Florence, on a Sunday or some saint's day, during the celebration of high

mass.

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We need not attempt a description—the idea alone will bring before the eye of memory or imagination, all that is comprised therein. That fane itself of gorgeous beauty that sacred pageantry dimly revealed through mists of wreathing incense. The solemn chaunts-the pealing music-and silvery bell amidst the sudden awful hush, at the sound of which, kneeling multitudes bow down like forest trees before the sudden blast, and then the awful har

mony of the general hallelujah!

For no better reason (or not so good a one perhaps) than that which so often leads, I fear, most of us Englishmen into such sacred edi

fices, to divert an idle hour-a young Englishman, on this aforesaid particular occasion, entered the church.

He stood for some time, idly regaling his senses with the surrounding delights afforded them-but soon turned his attention to the living features of the scene the group of spectators like himself, and the larger body of devout worshippers, standing or kneeling in those marble courts.

On a group, apparently of the latter class, his eye was finally arrested.

The spot they occupied, had at first attracted his attention, by being lighted up above the rest by a single gleam of golden sunshine, but the next moment the brilliant sunshine of Italy poured forth in full brilliance, streaming through every arch and pillar, on every pictured saint; till from whence he stood, his dazzled sight could behold no longer the objects of his strained regard, and he had soon moved on towards them through the blinding brightness.

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