afterwards with a good wholesome game of play with Rosaline and Floretta."

"Ah, a golden spur sometimes pricks the best," said I. "Small premiums for small achievements are better than competitions for a prize, which must disappoint one or many. A rivalry with one's self is the only safe rivalry."

"I think so too. And five pounds is nothing, you know, to Mr. Pevensey."

"No, but a hundred pounds may be more so. Harry Prout gratefully told me of his buying the horse."

"Mr. Prout had over-estimated it," said she, quietly smiling.

"I guessed as much."

"In fact, if it cannot be thoroughly broken, by Rarey's means or others, Mr. Pevensey will have it shot; for he says it is better a showy horse should be killed, than another father of a family." Surely."

"And the money, you see, won't be wasted, because it was useful where it was sent. There is some thought of quietly getting up a subscription, under the name of a testimonial.

Mr.

Secker, the suggestor, will acquaint Mrs. Prout with it, and ask whether she would like a silver cup or the money; and of course she will prefer the latter. Only half-sovereigns will be asked, but those who like to give more may do so unknown to all but Mr. Secker, as there will be no published subscription list."

"All the better," said I.

who

"There are too few

"Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame." "

"More than you think, though, perhaps. There!-now you get a glimpse of the church. Your next wish will be to be in it; but you must not attempt too much at first. In a little while, I hope you may manage it.”

Having nearly reached the turnpike, we turned about on our homeward course. And thus ended my pleasant drive. Had I had my choice, my frame of mind would have been serious; as it was, it was cheerful. I felt tired and shaken, but less so than I expected. On saying so to Phillis, she remarked

"Said so didn't I? My 'pinion is, if you'd gone afore, it never would have hurted ye."

Kind words cost little: and I had had a good many. I could not help thinking, had Eugenia been alive, how she would have sped me forth with fond solicitude, and tenderly hailed my return with some word of thankfulness, too, to Him in whose hand are the issues of life and death-some cheery gratulation that we were to be spared yet a little longer to each other.

But I called to mind the substance of a nice little tract called "The Scales Adjusted." Things are often equalized by roughs and smooths being set against one another. And, though snubbed by my maid, I felt that in this instance my good things predominated.

"So you've been and seen them big stone houses at last!" said Phillis, as she wheeled my little tea-table up to my easy-chair. "They do make ours look small, don't they?"

Now this was a very disagreeable view of the subject. Of course, a little house does look smaller than a large one, turn it which way you

G

will; but mine-Whiterose Cottage-was quite large enough for me, and could not be turned in a prettier direction. As we lost sight of the tall, shapeless stone houses, and came first to the graceful elm avenue, and then to

"Where my cottage-chimney smokes,

Fast between two aged oaks,"

I could not help thinking how snug and suitable for its mistress it looked.

True, it has only one sitting-room, save a little snuggery eight feet by ten; true, it is all built on one floor, and that on the ground : every room in it, but the first and last, opening into a narrow matted passage, or gallery. But to me this seems the very prettiest, most convenient plan, for a single woman with one servant, that could possibly be desired; and my only wonder is, that instead of there not being such another, perhaps, in England, there are not dozens, or hundreds. How many a rich man, now, might run up a little place like this, on some corner of his estate, for a widowed aunt, or old maiden sister or cousin, where she might be

as happy as the day is long, and live on next to nothing, quite respectably; and, when she dropped off, like a ripe acorn from the oak, and almost as noiselessly, the "Old Maid's Home" might revert in perpetuity to a succession of decayed gentlewomen, whose simple, yet genteel tastes would thereby be met by their modest means.

Not that I would have them called old maids' homes, for that would stamp them at once, like a workhouse woollen waistcoat, or a charity cloth cloak. No; they should be Sweet Homes, or have other such pretty significatives; giving them rank with the best Rose Cottages, Myrtle Cottages, and Laurel Cottages, in the land. They might prettily be called after their fair ownersJulia's Cottage, Maria's Cottage, Helen's Cottage, and so forth. Mine is Whiterose Cottage. It has not an exterior like a long, narrow knifetray, or candle-box: on the contrary, though its rooms lie parallel, they are not of an uniform width or length; consequently, the walls have what Mary Russell Mitford called "a charming in-and-outness ;" and there is not a straight line or "coign of vantage," that is not draped by some