The 'Mirror.'—Vol. III. No. 108.
The editor is recounting a deeply sentimental story, written with all seriousness, in a style sufficiently burlesque and laughable. It refers to the love of Sir Edward, an English gentleman, who, while travelling in Piedmont, had met with an accidental fall from his horse, and been carried to the residence of a small proprietor named Venoni, for whose daughter the baronet immediately conceived a tenderness, which was returned by the fair Louisa.
'The disclosure of Sir Edward's passion was interrupted by the untoward arrival of Louisa's parent, accompanied with one of their neighbours, a coarse, vulgar, ignorant man, whose possessions led her father to look upon him with favour. Venoni led his daughter aside, told her he had brought her future husband, and that he intended they should be married in a week at furthest.
'Next morning Louisa was indisposed, and kept her chamber. Sir Edward was now perfectly recovered. He was engaged to go out with Venoni; but before his departure he took up his violin, and touched a few plaintive notes on it. They were heard by Louisa.
'In the evening she wandered forth to indulge her sorrows alone. She had reached a sequestered spot, where some poplars formed a thicket, on the banks of a little stream that watered the valley. A nightingale was perched on one of them, and had already begun its accustomed song. Louisa sat down on a withered stump, leaning her cheek upon her hand. After a little while, the bird was scared from its perch, and flitted from the thicket. Louisa rose from the ground, and burst into tears. She turned—and beheld Sir Edward. His countenance had much of its former languor; and, when he took her hand, he cast on the earth a melancholy look, and seemed unable to speak his feelings.
'Louisa was at last overcome. Her face was first pale as death, then suddenly it was crossed with a crimson blush. "Oh, Sir Edward!" she said. "What—what would you have me do?" He eagerly seized her hand, and led her reluctant to the carriage. They entered it, and, driving off with furious speed, were soon out of sight of those hills which pastured the flocks of the forsaken Venoni.'