The path he chanced to take, led him to the sheet of water before noticed. Our old acquaintances, the two swans, were slowly sailing on its calm surface. Half the quiet bosom of the lake was in deep shadow from the great trees, which seemed resting the weight of their branches upon it. The other half shone brightly in the early sun; and every leaf, every blade of grass, which, amid so much cover, the rays of light could reach, was glittering with dew. The morning air was exhilarating. Oswald’s broken heart felt soothed by the influence of surrounding objects. He stood contemplating the scene with calmer feelings than were common to him. There was a peculiar stillness in the moment; the next, the sound of approaching footsteps fell on his ear. He looked round, and beheld, as he believed, one who had long been the object of his search, and of his hatred, coming towards him. Oswald stamped on the earth, uttered a yell, at once of triumph and defiance. His eyes flashed with the fire of phrenzy; he gnashed his teeth; his whole countenance became distorted with the horrible rage of a maniac. Henry paused! for it was, indeed, this unfortunate son of a desperate father, whom the bewildered perceptions of the madman had mistaken for that father. A father whose very memory could thus entail on his offspring, not only the wild vengeance of others, but almost a necessity in himself to become the perpetrator of crime, actual, if not intentional. Henry saw, and endeavoured to avoid Oswald; but the unhappy being crossed his path, and seized on his throat with violence, reiterating, “Villain! villain! villain!” accusing him of deeds of the blackest dye, and calling upon him with threats and imprecations to restore the rights of his son! At first Henry, to do him justice, only sought to escape; next, only to defend himself: but when it became evident that the maniac’s purpose was to put him to death, and that, with that purpose, was coupled an insane glee at the immediate prospect of its fulfilment; and that, added to all this, Henry began to feel himself actually threatened with strangulation; his own angry passions kindled, and he put his strength to the struggle. Oswald, however, having at first fastened on Henry’s cravat, maintained his hold with the ferocious tenacity of a bull-dog, and pursued his advantage with the supernatural force derived from phrenzy. There were moments when Henry gave himself up for lost! It was now that he forgot his assailant’s age and imbecility of mind, and with all the strength of youthful sinews clasped his arms round the old man’s waist, and, in a few seconds, brought him to the ground. Here the sight of Oswald’s grey hairs lying amid the grass and fallen leaves might have recalled better feelings; but even here the poor maniac’s fury was unabated: his countenance still expressed his horrible intention, and his hand still grasped the cravat of Henry. In the latter the instinct of