the direction of my excellent preceptor I will henceforward so totally devote myself, that if there was any early preference forming at my heart, which time and opportunity might have ripened into positive attachment, it is now the moment for me to suppress it, and by application to acquirements, in which I am so glaringly deficient, give them all my thoughts, and let no wandering wishes turn them from the tract, they ought to follow and persist in. Whilst our young heart-wounded hero was arguing himself into this wise resolution, and proposing to derive profit from disappointment, he came within sight of a cottage, whose lonely and desolate situation seemed ill accordant with the neatness and studied comfort of every thing about it. Two women were sitting at their needle-work in the little garden in the front of it, and he was already near enough to distinguish the features of the youngest before she had started from her seat, and ran into the house. He was so struck with the resemblance, that she bore to the daughter of Sir Owen’s minstrel, blind Ap-Rees, of whom we have made former mention, that he stopped, and put that question to the elderly dame, who kept her seat: the dame at first did not think fit to answer, but upon the question being respectfully urged a second time--Whether that young person was, or was not, Nancy Ap-Rees, she briefly replied--That young person is my daughter, and my name is not Ap-Rees. Then I am mistaken, said John, and rode on. Satisfied with this answer, which at the present time made but a slight impression on his thoughts, he proceeded homewards, following his guide step by step through all the sinuosities of a craggy road, ruminating upon what had passed at Denbigh, at some times accusing, and at others acquitting himself for his conduct upon that occasion. He formed a wild and fanciful conception of those brilliant lights, that science would in time unfold; but whilst he was enjoying this platonic vision, the sylph-like image of Amelia would recur to his imagination in the captivating attitude of standing at his elbow, as once she had been seen, when, taken by surprise, he caught her in his arms, and rapturously pressed her to his heart. Thus advancing onwards, though not conscious of progression, he was at length recalled to recollection by the sight of Kray Castle, and his reverie dispersed. * * * * * The awful character of the time, in which we now live, calls upon every writer to be cautious how he appeals to the passions of mankind. The novelist, who is professedly a writer of this description, has no arbitrary power, independant of morality, over the characters he exhibits merely because they are fictions of his own inventing: he has duties, which he is bound to observe, and cannot violate without offence.