At last it was remembered that a carriage, with the blinds up, had called to water the horses at Mr. Clark's on that evening; and had driven forward without any one alighting. At the time it was considered to be an empty carriage; but when the fair stranger was found to have disappeared so mysteriously the same evening, it was concluded that she had been carried off by her friends in this very carriage. Without attempting to explain how this was, she was never heard of after that day. The picture I would draw from this story is simply this:--One of her usual walks was up the glen to Hardra waterfall. Every day, when the weather would permit, did she traverse this glen. After viewing the immense column of water which there is precipitated over the projecting rock into the unfathomable cistern at its foot, she would ascend the steep acclivity which leads to the top of the rock. Upon a natural rude column of stone on the left hand side, which appears to have been torn from the parent rock during some convulsion of nature, would she stand for hours, her long pink ribbons fluttering in the mountain breeze. I know of no finer subject than this for a picture. The broken and overhanging rocks--the loose fragments at their feet--the cascade itself, the finest in the country--the brook fretting and foaming down the rugged glen--the stunted trees, and matted foliage, which protrude from the fissures of this natural wall--the huge erect pillar of stone, which rears its detached mass above the adjoining rock--and one of the loveliest females I ever saw, attired in flowing white drapery, which, with the ribbons, fluttered and played upon the wind--could you find a subject equal to this for interest, one equal to it for sublimity and beauty? THE TWO BROTHERS. A TALE OF ENNERDALE.