well for my sister’s future happiness, though there was an impression on my mind, from whence gathered I could not explain, not altogether favourable to the stranger. Perhaps, thought I, it arises from that jealousy which is always felt towards those who are found to share in those affections which we wish, however unreasonably, to keep solely to ourselves. But what right had I to expect that my sister’s affections should all her life be confined to her own domestic fire-side? I watched them, therefore, with a mingled feeling, retire into one of the most secluded parts of the glen, and hastened to ascend the rock under which they had placed themselves as if to catch the last rays of the sun as they threw a parting glance up the western opening of the dale. All besides was black with shadow, and every singing-bird in the valley was silent, except a solitary blackbird, who had taken his stand on the highest twig of a towering birch that was still gilded with the light of the sun. He whistled a few fine farewell notes to the day, and then darted down into his thicket for the night. At that moment I heard my sister’s well-known voice from below, soft and sweet, as if taking up the song where the blackbird had left off his melody. The air was one well-known in our valleys, but has not, I dare say, attracted the attention of those caterers for the mart of music who gather up our native melodies as men buy up our virgin honey, at a low rate, and dress them out for higher prices, and a more fashionable circle. The words were, I believe, her own; for she possessed a remarkable taste for mountain ballads; or they might perhaps have been prepared for her by the native poet, of whom I before spoke to you; for they conveyed a sentiment which strangely harmonized with my own feelings with regard to the stranger, and seemed to show that she, too, had her suspicions as to his character, and was probably almost as ignorant as myself of his history. Never did notes sound so sweetly on mine ear as at that moment did my poor sister’s song! The time—the place—the feeling that the lines were dictated by the true sentiments of the heart, all conspired to impress them on my memory, and to convince me that there was a power in music to reach the heart, which no other charm possesses, when the words, the air, and the feeling are in perfect harmony with each other. I have prepared for you a copy of the verses, but I cannot convey to you that which is their greatest charm to me—the occasion on which they were first sung. They have also been harmonized by a friend, who, like myself, has smelt the heather in his youth, and has infused into the instrumental portion, some of the feeling and spirit which breathed in my poor sister’s melody. You are heartily welcome to both. MARTHA’S SONG.