MY melancholy meditations led me yesterday to the same place where I had seen the distracted _Fidelia_, and walking down the hill I again beheld her by the side of a beautiful spring—Before I could come up to the place, she was gone—she went hastily over the field—I followed her—after a few minutes walk, I overtook her, and we both went on together towards a small, neat farmhouse. An old man was sitting at the door—he gave a sigh as she passed him to go in—I asked him if she was his daughter—“Alas!” said he, “my poor child—she has been in this state of affliction for near a twelve month.” I enquired what cause produced the loss of her senses—He looked down sorrowfully—the question awakened the gloomy sensations of past evils, the recollection of which was painful, and opened wounds afresh that were not yet healed. “She has lost her lover,” cried the old man—“the youth was the son of one of our neighbours—their infancy was marked by a peculiar attachment to each other. When the young people danced together, _Fidelia_ was always the partner of _Henry_—as they grew up their mutual tenderness ripened into passionate affection. They were engaged to each other, and _Henry_ saved all his little stock of money to begin the world by himself. All the town beheld them with pleasure—they wished them success and happiness—and from their knowledge of both their characters, were led to hope they would one day become good members of society—but these hopes are blasted, and they now bestow the bitterest curses on the wretch who hath crushed their expectations—who hath deprived _Fidelia_ of her senses, and caused the death of her lover. “THE gay _Williams_ comes among us, and participates in our domestick pastimes—he singles out _Fidelia_, and is assiduous in his attentions to her—her little heart is lifted up—but her prudence rises superior to her vanity. _Henry_ observes the operations of _Williams_ and thinks he sees in him a powerful rival—the unhappy youth becomes melancholy—he sickens with jealousy—the pleasures of our country are forgotten by him—his thoughts are constantly employed on his _Fidelia_.—To complete the measure of his promised happiness he wishes to call her his own—he declares the desire of his soul-_Fidelia_ pledges her faith. He now sees the accomplishment of all his wishes in reversion—his heart leaps for joy—but—as the little paraphernalia is preparing, the ruffian hand of the SEDUCER dashes the cup of joy from their lips—_Fidelia_ suddenly disappears—_Williams_—the ungrateful _Williams_—betrays her to a carriage he had prepared, and she is hurried off. _Henry_ stands astonished—wild with grief and dismay, he appears senseless and confounded. “WHEN the heart is elevated by strong expectation—disappointment and misfortune come with redoubled force.—To receive pain, when we look for pleasure, penetrates the very soul with accumulated anguish.”