But where was Jane? Foremost of that crowd which gathered on the rocks, when the firing was first heard, flew the light form of the loving maiden, like a young eagle glaring for its mate. She stood upon the extreme verge of the cliff, unconscious of every thing, save the peril of her lover, her eyes fixed upon the vessels, straining as they would crack their strings, to discover the form of him who had her heart in keeping; and, as the vessel glided under the headland, she hung over the brink of the precipice, gazing upon the dead and dying, with whom the decks were strewed. But she saw him not. With the swiftness of the seamew, she followed the course of the smuggler along the shore; and when at last she saw the white sails gathered to the yards, and the vessel riding safely at anchor in the rocky bay, she leaped into a boat, and rowed herself to its side. A moment, and she jumped upon the deck, calling wildly for poor Mark. But no one answered her. With hair dishevelled, and eyes glancing fire, she turned each dead man’s face up to the sky. At length, a headless trunk met her distracted gaze. A bright gold ringlet of hair, tinged with the smuggler’s blood, and fastened to the breast of his shirt, the blue pea-jacket she gave Mark at his departure, and the brass buckles which her father wore, and presented to him as a pledge of future favour, all flashed conviction on her mind, that it was the mutilated form of her lover. A wild scream, which struck terror into the hearts of the daring crew, proclaimed her heart was broken; and falling on his mangled corse she instantly expired.
This was the melancholy end of the lovers. And you may remember that I said her happiness or misery would depend not only on the disposition of the man she loved, but upon his future destiny; the organs of amativeness and adhesiveness being so largely developed.
Here an object attracted his attention at a short distance, and he suddenly left off speaking to examine the scull of a melancholy donkey, which stood gazing upon the waste of waters.
Having carefully examined the animal’s pericranium, on which he made some scientific remarks, elaborately pointing out the distinguishing characteristics of the quadruped and biped race, I reminded him that it was high time to retrace our steps to Conway, and, as we trudged along, he related a story of rather a whimsical nature, which, as it tended to illustrate his favorite science, afforded me much amusement.
THE BUMP OF ORDER.
He lived, he said, at one time opposite to a house where resided a newly married couple. The house had the appearance of particular neatness, the flag stones before the door being white as snow, as were those supporting the railing of the area. The ledges of the windows were in keeping with the rest, and the windows themselves were perfectly unstained. The curtains below were of green damask, and above of elegant chintz, with pink linings. A variety of plants bloomed in the balcony, and the pots were ranged in precise order.
It greatly excited his curiosity, that every week, for upwards of a twelvemonth, he saw one or two new servants. It appeared that one week was the longest period the lady ever permitted any menial to remain in the house.
This circumstance created some surprise, as, during the time, he had never observed a single gentleman or lady knock at their door.
He had an opera glass, through which he took every opportunity of examining their heads across the street. At length, his bump of curiosity over-mastering every other consideration, determined him to seek an occasion of becoming acquainted with the lady of the house. For this purpose, he dressed himself with peculiar nicety, and stepping over, intimated by a rat-tat-tat that he was at the door. A female servant answered the summons, and ushered him into the parlour, where the lady was seated gazing with a vacant stare upon some pots of geraniums, which occupied a niche in the apartment. When a lady receives a visit from a gentleman she has never been introduced to, it is natural for her to look in his face, and an opinion is too frequently formed by the Lavater-loving sex, of the character, at first sight, of the being before them. But Mrs. — took a very different view of my philosophical friend; for her eyes fell from the geraniums to the toes of her visitor, as if she had the art of discovering the character of a man by the state of his boots.
“I hope you will excuse the appearance of a stranger at”—