She was one morning walking in the garden, leaning on her husband's arm, when the sound of a harp attracted their notice: they listened attentively, and heard a soft melodious voice distinctly sing the following stanzas: Thou glorious orb, supremely bright, Just rising from the sea, To cheer all nature with thy light, What are thy beams to me?
In vain thy glories bid me rise, To hail the new-born day, Alas! my morning sacrifice Is still to weep and pray.
For what are nature's charms combin'd, To one, whose weary breast Can neither peace nor comfort find, Nor friend whereon to rest?
Oh! never! never! whilst I live Can my heart's anguish cease: Come, friendly death, thy mandate give, And let me be at peace.
"'Tis poor Charlotte!" said Mrs.Beauchamp, the pellucid drop of humanity stealing down her cheek.
Captain Beauchamp was alarmed at her emotion.

"What Charlotte ?" said he; "do you know her ?" In the accent of a pitying angel did she disclose to her husband Charlotte's unhappy situation, and the frequent wish she had formed of being serviceable to her.

"I fear," continued she, "the poor girl has been basely betrayed; and if I thought you would not blame me, I would pay her a visit, offer her my friendship, and endeavour to restore to her heart that peace she seems to have lost, and so pathetically laments.

Who knows, my dear," laying her hand affectionately on his arm, "who knows but she has left some kind, affectionate parents to lament her errors, and would she return, they might with rapture receive the poor penitent, and wash away her faults in tears of joy.

Oh! what a glorious reflexion would it be for me could I be the happy instrument of restoring her.