"How sweet, how soothing (cried she) is this tranquil hour to the afflicted heart! it seems to give a respite to its cares, as it does to those of labour. How delightful to gaze upon the glories by which it is attended! to listen to the soft breeze that seems to die away amongst the waving trees, and the low carol of the peasant hastening to his cottage to enjoy the meal sweetened by contentment, and earned by industry."
Occupied by ideas similar to those which she had expressed, Madeline was almost abstracted from the scene which had inspired them, when her attention was suddenly awakened by an oboe from the valley; nothing could be more congenial to her present feelings than its melody, and she listened with exquisite delight; her spirits alternately rising, alternately sinking, as the sounds swelled with grandeur on the air, and tremblingly died away, till only their faint echo amongst the mountains could be distinguished: at last they ceased entirely;
