Languages & literature > Aurus clavus, or, The adventures of a gold trinket, supposed to have been written by itself

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awa.” The second was discussed, for Mr. Chafts
had done ample justice to it; but my master, not
feeling himself inclined to reply to all his jargon,
proposed taking a short walk, and withdrew,
signifying that he would return shortly. It was
a fine evening, and my master feeling himself
in a melancholy mood, extended his walk. The
moon was in her crescent, arrayed like a bride
on her bridal morn, tinging with her silvery
light the antique pile where hoary grandeur
still presides, and whose massy walls have with¬
stood in their rock-girt strength the thunders of
war and the storms of a thousand years. Not
a cloud was seen to ruffle the blue ether of
night’s studded canopy, and Venus sparkled
like a diamond on the blue mantle of heaven—
the trees were still—the zephyr was at rest—
a soft hum spread over the city—when, as my
master was going along Princes Street, his ear
was arrested by the sweet melody of a female
voice, which stole on his charmed senses, and
seemed as a lute breathing its harmony in a
lonely vale, when the winds are hushed. Yet,
no one heeded—the hand of charity was cold,
and withheld from her, who had all the appear¬
ance of having one day needed it not. She