Eliza R—— was the daughter of a respectable farmer in the county of ——. She was the eldest of the family, and considered the beauty of the small village she lived in. There was a soft loveliness about her features, and a benignity beaming in her mild blue eyes, expressive of purity and peace within. Her modesty and goodness of heart had made her a favourite with all her neighbours; and she was so retired and correct in her conduct, and unremitting in her religious duties, that she was looked upon as a superior being. Eighteen years of Eliza’s life had passed away without any event occurring to disturb its even current. Many of the young men of the village would willingly have proposed for her hand; but they were restrained by an awe which her beauty and conduct had inspired. It was about this time that a gentleman belonging to the revenue department, whose business led him to the coast, came down from Dublin; and there being no house of public entertainment, he begged a lodging for the short time he had to stop from Michael R——. It was instantly granted; and he had scarcely become an inmate of the house when he cast his eyes on Eliza, and his heart was inflamed with a passion which he determined, if possible, to gratify. Her modest, retiring disposition left him little room to make familiarity with her; but observing that she was a rigid attendant on mass, he feigned a devotion which he did not feel, and by this pretence had an opportunity of escorting her to chapel. His person and manners were prepossessing, and his language fluent. But it is unnecessary to enter into a detail of the measures he took to accomplish his purpose; suffice it to say, that he won the heart of the too confiding Eliza,—he had sworn to make her his wife, and she believed him,—all was arranged between them,—he was to go to Dublin, and settle his affairs, provide a house for her reception, and return to marry her and conduct her home. The unsuspecting parents saw his partiality for her, and felt proud of it; they little knew the serpent they were fostering in their bosom. Poor Eliza parted from him in the faith of a speedy return, and dreamed of years of happiness, which, alas! she was never to enjoy. The time of his promised return elapsed, and day after day rolled on without him making his appearance. She now began to feel dreadful anxiety,—she had received no direction how to write, and had no means of learning anything concerning him. He must be sick, thought she, or some accident has befallen him, or he would be here; and she grieved that she knew not where to seek him, that she might tend and watch over him. She was soon doomed to be undeceived—a neighbour, who had been at Dublin, called upon her father with some articles which he had employed him to purchase. ‘When you were in Dublin,’ said Michael, ‘did you see anything of the gentleman who lodged with us before you went away?’ ‘That I did,’ replied the visitor, ‘I took a parcel for him from Mr W——’s.’