6th. In whose hands are the Manuscripts of Allan Ramsay, and Thomson the publisher of the Orpheus Caledonius? I am,

March, 1791.

Sir, Yours, &c.

J. RUNCOLE.

THE BEE, vol. ii. p. 201, April 13, 1791.

Much light has been lately thrown upon the origin and antiquity of the Scotish Ballad and Song, by the Collections of Walter Scott and Mr. Jamieson, to which the reader is referred.

No. CLXXVII.

Raro antecedentem scelestum,
Deseruit pede pœna claudo.

HORAT.

Yet with sure steps, though lame and slow,
Justice o'ertakes the trembling villain's speed,
FRANCIS.

THOSE personages who form the subject of the following pages, though long since mouldered into dust, must present, in the recital of their history, a striking instance to the reader, of the punishment attendant on vice, and the rewards which follow virtue.

In one of the small villages, with which the south of France abounds, lived a peasant, whose only wealth consisted in those mental possessions which adorn greatness, and dignify poverty. He had acquired, by the integrity of his heart, and the honesty of his principles, the esteem of all his neighbours, and the approbation of the master whom he long had served in the capacity of under bailiff. He gained an honest livelihood by indefatigable industry, and in his hours of leisure he delighted in the discharge of his parental duty, by cultivating the native graces of an only child. Emma, at the age of

eighteen, was lovely in her person, gentle in her manners, and virtuous in her principles. Their cottage was the scene of rustic peace, and their little garden a bower of intermingled sweets. Bernard had long served, with fidelity and zeal, the Marquis of Clairville, who possessed a sumptuous chateau and extensive domains in the neighbourhood. Justice, generosity, and innate excellence of heart, were his characteristics; and he was the idol of the surrounding country, as well as of all those who were happy in his acquaintance. The innocent Emma assisted her father's honest toils by employing herself in spinning and netting, which contributed to acquire those comforts that rendered them happy and contented.

The duty and affection of Emma was unparalleled oft would she climb the verdant steep, or wander in the silent vale, to wait the return of her father from his daily labours, when the evening sun cast its faint gleams upon the summer scene. Sometimes, seated by this venerable sire, she discoursed with him on the virtues of her departed mother, whom fate had summoned from the world in the early infancy of her daughter; and they shed the mutual tears of genuine sorrow and regret to her loved memory. Sometimes, in the seasons of festivity, Emma

would join in the rural dance with the villagers, or chant her melodious notes to the soft flutes of the youthful peasants,

How often has she blessed the coming day,
When toil, relenting, lent its turn to play;
And all the village train, from labour free,
Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree;
While many a pastime circled in the shade,
The young contending, while the old survey’d.
GOLDSMITH.

Such was the life led by Emma and her father; though fortune enriched them not with her golden stores, peace and conscious innocence smiled in each countenance, and bestowed on them that undisturbed happiness, which seldom visits the gilded roofs of gorgeous palaces. But they were too soon destined to experience a fatal calamity, in the death of the Marquis de Clairville, whose loss was universally lamented. For some days after his decease, the eyes of his tenants and dependants ceased not to flow with tears of gratitude and sorrow. At the funeral of the marquis, conducted with all the pomp due to his rank and distinguished station, the inhabitants of the surrounding hamlets attended: grief was imprinted on every countenance, as they followed the body in mute dejection, A young stranger, returning to Switzerland, from

a tour, which he had taken on the continent, chanced to strike out of the road as he approached near the castle, tempted by the beauty of the long avenues which led to it. He reached the gates just as the mournful procession was beginning to move. Inquiring the name of the deceased, one of the peasants informed him, that in their master, the Marquis de Clairville, they had lost the best of lords, and most generous of patrons; the tears which rolled down his cheeks as he spoke, gave evidence to his feelings. Albert dismounted from his horse, and giving charge of it to his servant, mingled with the peasantry, and moving slowly arrived with them at the church, about half a mile distant, where the remains of Clairville were to be deposited in the vault of his ancestors: he placed himself near the grave: before the ceremony was ended, and while a solemn dirge was chanting, he observed the mourners to fall back, and form on each side an opening, through which he beheld advancing a group of village maidens, with baskets of flowers on their arms, which they strewed in profusion over the coffin. Albert's attention was soon attracted towards the loveliest object he had ever beheld; she was distinguished from her companions by a superior elegance of mien and grace of feature,-she