her situation, and she was invited into the family of a civil servant of distinction. In compliance with the suggestions left her by Williams, she was to remain in India, till he should announce to her the prospect of obtaining redress from the Directors, and their permission to return to Madras. In the meanwhile, though dejected and wretched, she was whirled along the circle of fashionable dissipation, and compelled to wear an aspect of gaiety, which was belied by the feelings of her heart. Admirers fluttered around her; nor were suitors wanting. The kind lady, beneath whose roof she resided, urged her to accept one of the most eligible, dilating with infinite volubility on the charms of a gay establishment, and taking care to set before her the folly of a romantic attachment to a man of ruined fortunes. To feelings attuned like Julia's, all this was the harshest discord that could be sounded; and she lingered in feverish impatience for a letter from Williams. That letter came; but it breathed no syllable of hope. He was struggling with penury, and though the passage was almost blotted out by his tears, at the conclusion he advised her, in the spirit of a generous self-devotion, to accept

He could not finish the sentence, but he evidently recommended her to accept a suitable offer should it be made her.

She resolved, however, with increased earnestness, to return home. How was this to be done? Poor and dependent, she could not command the means. One evening, when she had excused herself from a party on the plea of indisposition, and was sitting alone, and in no very enviable mood, a palanquin stopped at the steps of the verandah, from which a native alighted, who, after the usual salutations, addressed her, and placed in her hands a shawl, which he begged her to unfold. She had scarcely retired for that purpose, when the visitor, having re-ascended his palanquin, was instantly out of the reach of her gratitude; for the shawl contained a sum in pagodas, more than sufficient to defray the expenses of her voyage. It was Mootiah from whom she had received this beneficent token. To shorten the narrative, Julia returned to England, and was united to Williams, although he was still struggling with depressed fortune. Love, however, does not always overflow with worldly resources, and theirs were soon exhausted. The prospect was gloomy, and even affection, pure as ever glowed in two human hearts, was not at all times sufficient to cheer it. They were sitting in night upon the ways

mournful consultation one

and means of the morrow. "I may exclaim with Jaffier," said Williams, with a forced smile :

"Thank heaven, I'm not worth a ducat."" Suddenly, however, he bethought himself of the ring with which Mootiah had presented him, and which he had preserved only as a memorial of that worthy creature's kindness, it being of little or no other value in his estimation. But as it was unquestionably a diamond, though covered with incrustations, and the ring, though of the clumsiest workmanship, was gold, he carried it to a jeweller—and to his astonishment, found that the stone was of the first water, and that it required only a skilful artist to redeem its lustre. He disposed of it for £800, which, in that crisis of their fortunes, seemed a mine of wealth. But much better things came. By the death of a French uncle, who had been one of the fermiers of the revenue under the old régime, Julia inherited considerable wealth. The bequest being coupled with the condition that her husband, whoever he might be, should assume the name of Montreville, and reside a certain portion of the year in France, as a superintendent of the estates devised to her, they immediately established themselves at Paris.

Years flowed on in uninterrupted happiness, and Montreville had almost forgotten the trials and misfortunes of his youth; when one morning, as he was crossing the Pont Neuf, his observation was

drawn to a short, elderly Englishman, meanly attired, and walking with a slow desultory pace, denoting, as he rightly conjectured, considerable uneasiness of mind. The stranger also gazed intently on Montreville, and in a few instants they recognized each other. It was W-1, the Madras governor, the man whose injustice had crushed his early hopes; but the memory of that injustice was now obliterated by the claims of the unhappy man to his compassion. "Do you recollect," said Montreville," the name of Williams ?"—" I do,” returned W-1; "I remember it with regret." Montreville would not suffer him to apologize, but having, by the courtesy of his manner, won the old man's confidence, heard from him the melancholy recital of his distresses. The story was a short one. He had been recalled, and had fled his country, where a bill of pains and penalties hung over his head. He was now abandoned by all who had basked in the sunshine of his power, on many of whom he had lavished favours, which laid the foundations of ample fortunes. A few minutes before Montreville had met him, he had eagerly hastened, in the warmth of a long and early friendship, to shake by the hand one of those whom his bounty had fed and enriched; but his advances were scornfully repulsed, and this had occasioned

the agitation which Montreville had remarked in his features.

In this destitution Montreville humanely succoured him, and having raised some subscriptions among the most opulent of the few Englishmen who were then at Paris, settled on him a small provision, which allowed him to wear out the remnant of his days in a decent obscurity. The vicissitudes we have related, form an instructive lesson; and those who act unjustly while they stand upon the slippery heights of fortune, would do well to remember the fate of W-1, the governor of Madras.