I have a cottage, I would take thee to it, and shelter thee: thou should'st eat of my own bread, and drink of my own cup-I would be kind to thy Sylvio-in all thy weakness and wanderings I would seek after thee, and bring thee backwhen the sun went down I would say my prayers, and when I had done, thou should'st play thy evening song upon thy pipe, nor would the incense of my sacrifice be worse accepted for entering Heaven along with that of a broken heart.

Nature melted within me, as I uttered this; and Maria observing, as I took out my handkerchief, that it was steeped too much already to be of use, would needs go wash it in the stream.-And where will you dry it, Maria? said I—I will dry it in my bosom, said she-'twill do me good.

And is your heart still so warm, Maria? said I.

I touched upon the string on which

hung all her sorrows-she looked with wistful disorder for some time in my face; and then, without saying any thing, took her pipe, and played her service to the Virgin-The string I had touched ceased to vibrate-in a moment or two Maria returned to herself-let her pipe fall-and rose up.

And where are you going, Maria? said I. She said, to Moulines.-Let us go, said I, together.-Maria put her arm within mine, and lengthening the string, to let the dog follow-in that order we entered Moulines.