'I am aware,' says our fair writer in her advertisement, 'that my Story has many imperfections; but it being a first essay, and having been written solely for my own amusement, during a winter season, will plead with a liberal public, to soften the severity of criticism. The publication is attributed to the 'partial wishes of a few friends.' To the wishes of those friends who have the happiness of advising the author of the Mysterious Wanderer, we take the liberty of joining our own, that many winters may be passed in writing many tales of equal value with the present. The most prominent error that occurred to us, appeared to arise rather from an exuberance, than want of fancy, which enabled the writer to introduce so many episodes, that the main light becomes in some instances overpowered by the glare of detached parts.
, when a loud peal at the outward door arrested his steps, and, the minute after, Harland, with breathless impatience, rushed into the room, followed by the old Negro.
"My dearest, loveliest girl!" he exclaimed, clasping the delighted Louise to his bosom; "am I again so blessed as to behold you?--Nor will I part from you again, my Louise, till the Church's sanction has placed it beyond the power of aught but death to separate us!"
"But you are wounded, Harland," said the Marchioness anxiously; "let me procure you some assistance."
Harland, indeed, had forgotten his wounds, and the joy Louise at first experienced on seeing him, prevented her observing his pallid countenance, or the blood which had stained his clothes. She now with trembling lips joined in the Marchioness's request, that a surgeon might be sent for. Harland complied,--"though the hurts I have received," he continued, "are not such as to require a moment's consideration. But the dastardly villain, Sir Henry, who inflicted th