Do-do write to me often, my dear Anna! said the weeping Julia Warren, on parting, for the first time since their acquaintance, with the young lady whom she had houred with the highest place in her affections. Think how dreadfully solitary and miserable I shall be here, without a single companion, or a soul to converse with, w you are to be removed two hundred miles into the wilderness. Oh! trust me, my love, I shall t forget you w or ever, replied her friend, embracing the other slightly, and, perhaps, rather hastily for so tender an adieu; at the same time glancing her eye on the figure of a youth, who stood in silent contemplation of the scene. And doubt t but I shall soon tire you with my correspondence, especially as I more than suspect it will be subjected to the criticisms of Mr. Charles Weston. As she concluded, the young lady curtisied to the youth in a manner that contradicted, by its flattery, the forced irony of her remark.