Elinor was at an age to feel the change that had taken place with poignancy; but she was also at an age when the mind opens to new impressions, and when virtuous principles are easily stamped upon it. Her intercourse with the Watson family had been a real blessing. This was still left to her; and she soon found, in constant employment, and the necessary labour of her own industry, a tranquillity that was new to her. Poor Jane !-her task was the hardest. She had much to unlearn-habits of self-indulgence, feelings of mortification, of pride, and even of envy, to struggle against.

In their dreary lot, the family had one thing to cheer them. The accounts they received from Dr Fulton and of him were on the whole encouraging; and his wife was anxious to join him with her family. But he was wise enough to forbid it, as premature. The last letter he wrote to Elinor contained the following passages, which may appropriately conclude the narrative :

'I begin to hope we may all again be gathered into one family, even in this world. My business is prosperous; and I have reasonable expectations of being able, in the course of a few years, to convince my creditors that however wide I have travelled from the right course, it is not irrecoverable. I willingly submit to every privation in this blessed hope. In the meantime, I daily thank God for my domestic relations--that He has preserved to me my wife and children-has given me such a child as you have proved yourself— and taught us all that real independence consists in living within the means.

THE CHILD OF ELLE.

N yonder hill a castle stands
With walls and towers bedight,
And yonder lives the Child of Elle,
A young and lovely knight.

The Child of Elle to his garden went,
And stood at his garden pale,

When lo! he beheld fair Emmeline's page

Come tripping down the dale.

The Child of Elle he hied him hence,
I wis he stood not still,

And soon he met fair Emmeline's page
Come climbing up the hill.

'Now rest ye here, thou little foot-page,
Now rest thee here with me;

O tell me how does thy lady gay,
And what may thy tidings be?'

'My lady she is all wobegone,
And the tears they fill her een;
And aye she laments the deadly feud
Between her house and thine.

No. 104.

And here she sends thee a silken scarf,
Bedewed with many a tear,

And bids thee sometimes think on her
Who loved thee so dear.

And here she sends thee a ring of gold—
The last boon thou mayst have-
And bids thee wear it for her sake
When she is laid in grave.

For ah! her gentle heart is broke,

And in grave soon must she be ;

Since her father hath chose her a new, new love, And forbid her to think of thee.

Her father hath brought her a carlish knight—
Sir John of the north country;

And within three days she must him wed,
Or he vows he will her slay.'

'Now hie thee back, thou little foot-page,

And greet thy lady from me,

And tell her that I, her own true love,
Will die, or set her free.

Now hie thee back, thou little foot-page,
And let thy fair lady know

This night will I be at her bower window,
Betide me weal or woe.'

The boy he tripped, the boy he ran,
He neither stint nor stayed

Until he came to fair Emmeline's bower,
When, kneeling down, he said:

'O lady, I've been with thy own true love,
And he greets thee well by me;

This night will he be at thy bower window,
And die, or set thee free.'

Now day was gone, and night was come,
And all were fast asleep,

All save the Lady Emmeline,

Who sat in her bower to weep.

And soon she heard her true love's voice,

Low whispering at the wall:

'Awake, awake, my dear lady; 'Tis I, thy true love, call.

Awake, awake, my lady dear;
Come, mount this fair palfrey;
This ladder of ropes will let thee down;
I'll carry thee hence away.'

'Now nay, now nay, thou gentle knight;
Now nay, this may not be ;

For aye should I tint my maiden fame,
If alone I should wend with thee.'

'O lady, thou with knight so true
Mayst safely wend alone;

To my lady mother I will thee bring,
Where marriage shall make us one.'

'My father he is a baron bold,
Of lineage proud and high;
And what would he say if his daughter
Away with a knight should fly?

Ah, well I wot he never would rest,

Nor his meat should do him no good, Until he had slain thee, Child of Elle, And seen thy dear heart's blood.'

'O lady, wert thou in saddle set,
And a little space him fro,

I would not care for thy cruel father,
Nor the worst that might befall.'

Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept,
And aye her heart did rue;

At length he seized her lily-white hand,
And down the ladder he drew ;

And thrice he clasped her to his breast,
And kissed her tenderly;

The tears that fell from her fair eyes
Ran like the fountain free.

He mounted himself on his steed so tall,
And her on a fair palfrey,

And slung his bugle about his neck,
And roundly they rode away.

All this beheard her own damsel,
In her bed whereas she lay;
Quoth she: My lord shall know of this,
So I shall have gold and fee.

Awake, awake, thou baron bold!
Awake, my noble dame!

Your daughter is fled with the Child of Elle,
To do thee deed of shame.'

The baron he woke, the baron he rose,
And called his merry men all:

'And come thou forth, Sir John the knight; Thy lady is carried to thrall.'

Fair Emmeline scarce had ridden a mile,
A mile forth of the town,

When she o'erheard her father's men
Come galloping o'er the down;

And foremost came the carlish knight-
Sir John of the north country:
'Now stop, now stop, thou false traitor,
Nor carry that lady away;

For she is come of high lineage,
And was of a lady born,

And ill it beseems thee, a false churl's son,
To carry her hence to scorn.'

'Now loud thou liest, Sir John the knight, Now thou doest lie of me;

A knight me bred, and a lady me bore;
So never did none by thee.

But light now down, my lady fair-
Light down, and hold my steed,
While I and this discourteous knight
Do try this arduous deed.

But light now down, my dear lady-
Light down, and hold my horse,
While I and this discourteous knight
Do try our valour's force.'

Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept,
And aye her heart was woe;

While 'twixt her love and the carlish knight
Passed many a baneful blow.

The Child of Elle he fought so well,
As his weapon he waved amain,

That soon he had slain the carlish knight,
And laid him on the plain.