EPISODE FROM AN UNPUBLISHED NOVEL. 



321 



heart, and somewhat alarmed, for I knew she never lightly com- 

 plained ; but I little supposed the fatal day was then so nigh. 



The dreadful storm suddenly gathered, and the thunder-bolt fell. 

 I had attained considerable military rank in the service of the Schah, 

 or Sultan of Persia. A dangerous rebellion had been raised ; the 

 insurgents were strengthened by a powerful Tartar tribe j and, on 

 the eve of battle, the last letter of Lady Elizabeth arrived. It was 

 written at intervals, when she could collect strength, and informed 

 me that, long before it could come to hand, she should be at rest. 

 Her sweet sensibility, and anxious fears for those she loved, were 

 undiminished. Our cherished offspring, then seven years old, and of 

 whom she spoke with maternal transport, was committed to the care 

 of the faithful North Briton she had no other resource. Having 

 been carefully instructed by her in every thing she knew, she de- 

 scribed him as a prodigy consigned him to me as the last and only 

 proof of remaining affection, and solemnly conjured me carefully to 

 guard my life for his sake. With this fatal letter in my pocket, my 

 heart rent, and my brain distracted by its contents, I next morning 

 went to battle. My body and mind were ill-fitted for such a scene. 

 Fighting with great fury, and little discretion, I was dangerously 

 wounded, made prisoner by the Tartars, and carried a slave to a dis- 

 tant province. This entirely frustrated the determination I had made 

 to return to England, be the consequences what they might, and take 

 ray orphan boy under my own protection. 



It were needless to recount how I recovered of my wounds all 

 that I suffered during my slavery and the means by which I escaped, 

 first to China, and afterwards to Hindoostan. Strange, indeed, have 

 been the vicissitudes of my life. By perseverance and ardour, now 

 raised by sudden accident and misfortune, again overwhelmed : 

 cast here and there, from clime to clime, among tribes of almost 

 savage and fearfully superstitious men : to-day, successful beyond 

 my hopes, nay, beyond my wishes to morrow, trampled in the dust. 

 Never, in some respects, was the destiny of mortal more checquered. 

 Oh, ueatic essence ! pure angelic shade of my youthful love ! couldst 

 thou but look graciously down upon me couldst thou, by some 

 sweet sympathy, guide me to the dear pledge of. our affection if, 

 haply, he too be not dead then should I receive some consolation 

 for all my sufferings past. Oh, Elizabeth ! oh, Frederick ! must 

 I never again clasp either of you to my heart ! 



liloo n? 

 M. M. No. 87. 2 L 



