I have often seen one of those girls, with her classically-turned head, bending over her work, who might have served as a model for a nymph, a naïad, or a grace.'

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"Do you remember," said Lady Mandeville, "the first fete after our arrival? Oh, Emily, it was matter for severe study! Their exquisite coquetry--each peasant had her lover, who was treated with that perfection of 'beautiful disdain' which does so much in a love affair. And then their dress-the fine plaited chemisette close round the throat-the long gold earrings, those indispensables of their toilettethe black velvet boddice, shewing the figure to such advantage, laced with gold and coloured silks-the full petticoat-the apron trimmed with gay ribands; all put on so neatly, and with such a fine taste for harmony of colouring. I always think national costumes invented for the express advantage of travellers."

"I must own," replied Mr. Morland, "the pleasures of travelling seem to me quite ideal. I dislike having the routine of my existence disarranged—I dislike early rising-I dislike bad dinners-I dread damp beds-I like new books-I like society-I respect my cook, and love my arm-chair; so I will travel through

Italy in a chapter-and am not quite sure but these engravings are more picturesque than the originals.'

"And I," replied Lady Mandeville, " delight in its difficulties: a bad dinner is a novelty, and a little danger is an enjoyment for which I am thankful. There are two readings of content and mine would be, monotony."

"Blessed be that amiable arrangement of fate, which gives such variety of tastes! I knew a lady who made a pet of a dove-I knew another whose passion was for grashoppers. I'll tell you a story, at which I laughed at first, and afterwards philosophised upon. You know the frightful goîtres which so disfigure the inhabitants of the Valais; but they themselves consider them to be personal advantages of no small attraction. In my youth I was a little touched with those vagrant habits you have been advocating; and one day I found myself in a small mountain chapel, where a Swiss pastor was encouraging content among his congregation, by dwelling on the many levelling circumstances of humanity-the sickness or the sorrow which brought the happiness of the wealthy to a level with that of the poor. Taking it for granted I was as ignorant of his

language as he was of mine, he looked upon my appearance as quite a case in point: Observe this young stranger-rich, free to do his own pleasure, healthy; but, to counterbalance these advantages, Providence has denied him a goître." "

CHAPTER IX.

"Nobody dies but somebody's glad of it."

Three Courses and a Dessert.

For

WE differ from our ancestors in many thingsin none more than in cases of sentiment. merly, it was your susceptible school-girl," your novel-reading miss"-now, women only grow romantic after forty. Your young beauty calculates the chances of her Grecian nose, her fine eyes, and her exquisite complexion—your young heiress dwells on the claims of her rent-roll, or the probabilities of her funded property: it is their mothers who run away- their aunts who marry handsome young men without a shilling. Well, the prudence of youth is very like selfishness, and the romance of age very like folly.

Mrs. Arundel was arrived at the romantic age; and Emily, on her return from a fortnight's stay at Norville, was somewhat sur

prised to hear from her own lips that her marriage with Mr. Boyne Sillery was to take place immediately. So soon! and was this all? A few months, and her uncle's memory seemed to have utterly passed away. Alas! oblivion is our moral death, and forgetfulness is the second grave which closes over the dead. In the same spirit with which a drowning man catches at a straw, Emily hoped that perhaps Mrs. Clarke might be induced to listen to arguments against such indecorous haste, and that her influence might prevail on the impatient gentleman and yielding lady to let the twelve months pass-and then, thought Emily, "I shall be glad it is no worse."

This hope was not a very promising one; for she could scarcely flatter herself that her opinion would have much weight: she well knew Mrs. Clarke entertained a very mediocre estimate of her understanding; she had never asked her for a receipt, nor offered her a pattern,— those alphas and omegas with her female accomplishments. But, however deficient in these sciences of the spoon and the scissors, there was a sweetness, a gentleness about Emily which it was impossible to dislike; Mrs. Clarke, therefore, always spoke of her only pityingly. "Miss