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110 clustered together, and towering aloft, finally closed the rich and beautiful scene.

Such was the sublimely attractive landscape our heroines Oriana and Rosilia were destined to contemplate. Linked together, arm in arm, they frequently ranged over the lonely peaceful country adjacent to their dwelling, listening to each other's tales, heightened by the colouring of youthful fancy, yet modified by intellectual culture. However irksome at such an age might be found the continual sameness of retired life, time usefully employed left them little leisure for repining, Oriana, gay and sportive from nature, ran her light fingers over the keys of her piano or strings of her harp, and thus found a solace from ennui, whilst Rosilia endeavoured to dispel the solitary hour by a book, the pen, or pencil, indulging in all the luxury of a refined and cultivated taste. Each occupied by their respective talents, or seeking amusement in their various mental resources, scarcely an interval in the day was unprofitably spent.

Nevertheless, when the charm of novelty became abated, and all around was familiar, the image of one far distant often stole upon the thought of the younger sister, invested with that imposing elegance of mien so conspicuous in his last interview, reviving those sentiments of painful