Whether my reader possesses a sufficient acquaintance with the localities of our island as to be able at once to transport himself in imagination to the wild regions of Dartmoor, I, of course, possess not the means of determining. If, however, they are not so far initiated into the secrets and niceties of the geography of the kingdom, it would appear necessary that I should imprimis, and, in a brief manner, supply that defect in his education; and this I do for the purpose of rendering my subsequent statements more comprehensive and intelligible.

The Dart, whence the moor derives its compound name, is a river of some importance, which, rising in the vicinity and winding its fertilizing way through the pleasant town of Totness, becomes navigable for small vessels, and, at a distance of about twelve miles, having in its course received the tributary stream of Hareburn, empties itself into the sea at Dartmouth-haven.

The Moor itself is formed of mountains, wild and rugged, the bowels of which are enriched by various kinds of ore, furnishing ample inducements for the mere speculator and the man of real fortune to embark in enterprise, supplying, at the same time, abundant employment for the hard-toiling and industrious miners who reside in the neighbourhood. A rich and extensive forest spreads its umbrageous covering over an extent of from eighty to one hundred thousand acres, excepting only where, by immense labour, plots of ground have been cleared and plantations formed. The proverbial barrenness. and sterility which once reigned over large patches of the moor in sickening monotony, has, in several districts, been considerably improved by tillage. The dwellers in this wild spot, to whom are applied the title of Moormen, seem to partake, in a considerable degree, of the nature of the soil they inhabit, and hence they are generally accounted the most ignorant and superstitious people in the west of England. Here the foundation of my tale lies, and having thus briefly despatched the business I proposed, I shall proceed at once to my narrative.

Towards the close of a dark and stormy December day I found myself, solitarily enough, among the wilds and windings of this lone place. The snow and sleet which had continued for some time to fall with a kind of

moderation, now came down thick and fast. The howling rough winds swept in noisy gusts the deep ravines, and roared with tornadian violence among the cracking branches of the forest-trees upon the heights. All was drear and comfortless, and feeling no particular inclination to enact the part of a knight of the forest on such a night, I spurred on my halfjaded Rosinante to the top of his speed, hoping soon to meet with the cheering sight of a road-side house of entertainment for man and horse. In less than half an hour my wishes were gratified. To be fastidious in such a storm I considered would be ridiculous in the extreme, and hence, determining to suit myself to the entertainment I might meet with at the rustic inn, I drew up at the door, and in a few minutes, after seeing my horse well lodged in a warm stable, found myself seated by a blazing fire, in company with some half-dozen

persons, who appeared to deserve the appellation of the "respectables of the place."

I had not long occupied my easy seat before an opinion, which it was very evident generally prevailed among the guests, was freely stated, namely, that the particular low moaning sounds which at intervals were heard, were the spirit-cry of a person who some years before had committed the rash act of suicide near the spot. I was surprised at the superstition of the adult group, and being anxious to become acquainted with the history of an affair which appeared connected with circumstances so mysterious, I inquired of the chief speaker if he was familiar with the entire case. With much affability and equal gravity he assured me he was, as indeed all persons were who resided within a score miles. of the place, and that if I, as a stranger, felt a particular wish to be informed of it, he would cheerfully relate the tale most sad, yet not more sad than true.' I thanked him for his politeness, and assured him I should feel the obligation of his kindness, when, without further prelude, he narrated, in substance, as follows:

"It is now between fifteen and twenty years, sir, since a young man of the name of Adolphus Claremont commenced the business of a grocer in a neighbouring town. He was a person of pleasing appearance and genteel address; his invariable civility to his customers, and constant attention to business, soon obtained him a considerable connexion. No establishment in the whole town could vie with his for taste, and no one surpassed it for cleanliness. The attention of every passer-by was attracted by it, and in a short time the name of Claremont became as familiar as the most popular tavern-keeper's in the place. Frequently, at an early hour in the morning, I have passed by his house, and while others in his line were indulging themselves in sleep, and for hours after, he was seen actively employed among his commodities, dressing out his window, or removing every particle of dust or dirt from every part of his premises, so that, by the time his customers came, he was prepared to attend to them.

"As I have said, he became well known, esteemed, and popular. There may, indeed, have been one circumstance which tended to raise him high in the good graces of the young ladies of the town, beside the other recommendations referred to, and that was, his being at the time a bachelor. None could be indifferent to his attractive person; he had a fine manly figure, with a countenance of the most fascinating order, from which kindness and benevolence appeared constantly to beam.

"Two or three years had passed since Mr. Claremont settled in the town in question, when the increase of his business required an enlargement of his premises, and the profits he had already realised warranted the outlay, and enabled him to spare it from actual trade. In order to accomplish his wishes, according to a design which he had formed in his mind, he purchased the house which before he had only rented, and immediately commenced the contemplated improvement. The most avaricious and money-loving being could scarcely have desired prosperity

beyond that which attended his exertions. The homely aphorism of Old Richard appeared to possess a practical influence over the spirit and conduct of Claremont

'He that by the plough will thrive,
Himself must either hold or drive;'

for although he had two apprentices, and as many assistants, still he continued to act the man as well as play the master. 'He that wishes his work done,' says an old proverb, 'must desire his servant to do it ; but he who wishes it wELL done, must see him do it.' He attended to the maxim, and found his account in so doing in the increase of his funds. "Prudence is an estate to those who exercise it well. So thought Mr. Claremont, and, therefore, he had determined not to change his condition in life, until he possessed sufficient means to make the woman happy to whom he had plighted his troth. The period had now arrived when it was considered by himself and friends that it would materially increase both his comfort and advantage to take unto himself a wife! He had for a considerable time bowed at the shrine of worth and beauty, in the daughter of an aged gentleman in the neighbourhood, whose property, although not exceedingly large, placed him in easy circumstances, and would empower him to present his only child, on her nuptial day, a sum little short of two thousand pounds. (6 Juliana-so she was named- —was a lovely girl. She possessed all that seemed necessary to make the man happy who might be privileged to call her his own. A genteel figure, winning address, and captivating countenance, were only the negatives of her excellence and recommendation. Something more substantial than either, or the whole of these, was enjoyed by her. Her disposition was of that rare character which the warm imagination of the poet would have pictured when describing female worth; added to which, her mind was well furnished with useful and solid knowledge. The mere embellishments and light adornings of female character, which, like the gaudy trappings of the stage heroine, only sparkle in the glare of midnight lamps, constituted not her education; these, indeed, she did possess, and these, accompanied as they were by other and more enduring attainments, appeared yet more lovely; she gave to them a grace and lustre, rather than received from them adornment. Adolphus Claremont led his blushing bride from the altar, amidst the blessings of many, and seemed to commence anew the race of life, with, if possible, increasing prospects of success and happiness.

"Riches and prosperity, rapidly acquired, are sometimes a snare, and lead to fatal consequences, both to fortune and felicity; not, indeed, as a necessary result, but because of their abuse on the part of those who possess them. So they terminated in the experience of Adolphus Claremont. But I will not," continued my informant as he checked himself, "anticipate the sequel of my tale, but proceed in unbroken order to its close.

"The first year of the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Claremont, so far as outward observation went, was evidently one of perfect happiness.

Already one child, a sweet girl, blessed their union; and still business prospered. All seemed fair, for no cloud of sorrow had as yet darkened the beautiful brightness of their life's sky. They were, by many, an envied pair.

"About this time, the spirit of speculation, like a blighting mildew, spread itself through the length of our country, and reached even our retired neighbourhood. The game of venture ran high, and poor Claremont, instead of attending, as before, closely to business, seeking, as he previously had done with so much success, to rise progressively and safely to wealth and influence, imbibed the fatal mania-anxious, it would seem, to reach at once the summit of his wishes by what may be called a species of gaming. The incipient desire was cherished, and led him imperceptibly into company-once a week-only once! Oh! that to him was a fatal once. He allowed himself to spend the evening from his family and from his home. His first speculation was an unsuccessful one, and by that single venture, he lost nearly as large a sum as he had received for his wife's dowry. The spirit of gaming is an insidious and destructive one; and once imbibed, in whatever form, generally accomplishes the ruin of his vassals; either making them bankrupts, or villains, or both!

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"It was soon seen that Mr. Claremont's attendance in his shop, and attention to his business, was neither so early or regular as in past times. He indulged himself now, when he should have been at his post of duty, and left to the care of others that which demanded his personal superintendence. Punctuality in his transactions fell off, and as a reasonable consequence, some of his most valuable and influential customers fell off too. He rapidly became possessed of, and constantly displayed, the spirit of a man of fortune, and in the same proportion, lost the habits and address of a man of business, bartering the most valuable for the most worthless, and sacrificing substantial good for empty show.

"-Time passed-as time ever will, whatever be the conduct of mortals, and Claremont's family increased. Five lovely children now claimed his regard, and looked up to him for counsel and support. But his ear had long since been closed to the voice of nature. His absence from home one evening in the week had progressed, and now every evening and night were consumed in the same way. He had entered upon the slippery declining plane of the mere pleasure-taker and gambler, and felt how difficult, after a few steps so taken, it was to turn back and retrace his path.

"Affairs at home, and in the mart, must suffer, when recreations are preferred to steady business. Here a sad illustration was furnished of the correctness of the statement advanced. Day was frequently added to night in the round of Claremont's pleasures; and the care of his establishment was made to devolve upon servants and apprentices. What less than a total wreck of property could from such a course be reasonably expected? With all the rhetoric of woman's love, his slighted, affectionate wife-his once dear Juliana-entreated him, for

the dear children's sake, to break from the company he had formed, and again apply himself to business. But, alas! he had thrown the reins of his reason upon the neck of his wild passion, and with a fearful impetuosity was borne forwards, he knew not, and appeared neither to think or care, whither.

"It is said, that drunkenness is an egg from which all evils may be hatched.' In Claremont's case it appeared so; for, as he thought—and at some brief periods it became his curse to think-on what he once had been and what he now was, the reflection seemed to goad him to madness, and he drank to drown the thoughts which he could not otherwise put away and then, to stifle, if possible, all remaining compunction, drank deeper and yet deeper still, and having so done, mingled unhesitatingly with company, such as in former days he would have blushed even to have been named with. He staked high, and lost largely. Gamesters and race-horses never last long;-Claremont's ruin was certainly speedy. Unknown to his wife, he had already mortgaged his house for a large sum, and the proceeds had been paid away as a debt of honour! while the just claims of honest tradesmen and lawful creditors were unattended to, and treated with the indifference which the gamester's mind supposed they deserved. Oh, tempora! Oh, mores!

"At length the heart-sickening, horrifying truth, broke upon the deceived and still-confiding Mrs. Claremont. Her husband's credit had entirely failed, demands were made which he was unable to meet, and a writ was issued against him.

"The wretched condition into which his own conduct had brought himself and family appeared for a brief space to restore him to reason. He acknowledged, with apparent sorrow and regret, the folly of his past conduct to the woman he had so deeply injured, who, although so injured, still loved him with the deep undying affection with which woman only can love. She had never once upbraided him, or addressed him in rude or harsh terms, and now, even as distress and ruin were entering their abode, she strove to soothe his mind and cheer his spirit. His promises of future rectitude were profuse, and no doubt can be entertained of his sincerity at the time he uttered them; but he was yet a stranger to himself, and so became security for a being who would, as soon as temptation offered-betray!

"By the kind assistance of Mrs. Claremont's friends, to whom in her extremity she applied, the creditors were met, the necessary arrangements were made, and once more Adolphus Claremont was seen, as in former days, active in his concerns, and attentive to his business ;-again his home looked cheerful, his children smiled around him, and his fond wife was happy.

"So matters continued for nearly twelve months, when, alas! too much evidence was given, that

'Vows in passion made, are seldom kept.'

Secretly, Mr. Claremont had indulged in drink; the habit he had ac