“Oh, yes, dearest! we shall meet again. The world is all before me, and I have youth and energy to carry me through it. Only tell me that, if fortune favours my exertions, you will smile upon me; and the hope of one day calling you mine, will cheer me under misfortune, and encourage me to renewed efforts. Only tell me that you will not forget me, and I here vow, as soon as I have obtained a competency, to return and claim you for my bride.” “Make no rash promises, Edward! We are both young, and have neither of us seen much of the world, or of others. You know what your favourite song says— ‘Change o’ fowk and change o’ scene May gar thy fancy jee.’” “Never, Jessie, never!” But we will not weary our readers with any more of this easily imagined effusion. They parted under a mutual agreement of fidelity to each other: how well they adhered to it remains to be shewn. We will not follow Edward Malcolmson on ship-board, nor attempt to describe that most uninteresting of all uninteresting things, a _pleasant_ passage; but will merely state that he arrived in safety at Calcutta, where he soon rendered himself conspicuous by his active discharge of the duties imposed upon him. His zeal and talent attracted the notice of the ruling powers, and he obtained a lucrative appointment at the Presidency, the salary of which, added to the liberal fees he received in private practice, soon enabled him to clear off the debts he had unavoidably contracted at his outset, and to lay the foundation of a rapidly increasing fortune. The habits of his previous life rendered it an easy task for him to unite the most careful economy with a liberal and gentlemanly expenditure. He had been early taught that true economy consists in restraining our desire for the _superfluities_, not in debarring ourselves from the enjoyment of the _comforts_ of life. His careful regulation of his expenses, and his indifference to show and parade enabled him, on proper occasions, to give greater scope to the natural generosity of his disposition than he otherwise could have done. Esteemed for the steadiness and consistency of his character, and beloved for his kind and amiable qualities, he soon became one of the most popular men of his class in Calcutta, besides having deservedly acquired the reputation of being one of the most skilful. Fortune had thus far favoured him beyond his most sanguine expectations; and, in so expressing ourselves, we do no injustice to his merits; for how often are the most splendid talents lost to the world, even when seconded by persevering energy, for want of opportunity for their display? At a comparatively early age, he had nearly attained the summit of his profession; he had far outstripped those who had started with him in the race for wealth and distinction; he was generally and deservedly beloved and respected—and yet he was not happy. “Change o’ fowk, and change o’ scene,” _had_ made a great alteration in those feelings which, with