periment, I propose that each person here present shall recite a passage in turn it will be a sample of their tastes. Come, Mary, will you begin, or shall I?”

"Oh, you, by all means, papa," said Miss Leyden, colouring, "you must recite for both, for you know my bad memory."

"Nonsense, child: you never yet forgot anything I wished you to remember-but now for it, if my old head will serve my turn." And without further pre

face, he recited in a deep, though now tremulous voice, those magnificent lines in the " Tempest :"

"Our revels now are ended: these our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and

Are melted into air, into thin air.

And like the baseless fabric of this vision,

The cloud-capped towers-the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples-the great globe itself,
Yea, all that it inherit-shall dissolve,
And like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind..."

Amid the applause of his young hearers, the Vicar turned to Margaret, and requested her to favour them. She would fain have been excused, but he appeared so disappointed, she was obliged to comply: and began Portia's graceful speech on mercy: her voice gained strength and sweetness as she proceeded, and Alfred's eye, as he listened, seemed kindling with some irresistible emotion, which burst forth as soon as she paused, in the words of the ill-fated Montague :

"O speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this sight, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven,
Unto the white, upturned, wondering eyes
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazypacing clouds,
And sails upon the bosom of the air!"-

"Bravo, Romeo! " cried Nelson, "you have brought all the colour into Miss Esther's cheeks: I will try your blushes now." And with mock-heroic emphasis, he turned to her, pointing first to Alfred, then to himself:

"Look here upon this picture, and on this;

The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
See,"

pointing to Alfred, who winced perceptibly,—
"what a grace is seated on this brow!
Hyperion's curls-the front of Jove himself-
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
A station like the herald Mercury,

New lighted on a heaven kissing hill:

A combination and a form indeed,
Where every god did seem to set his seal,

To give the world assurance of a Man!

It was impossible not to laugh: even Alfred, confounded as he was, joined in the general merriment, and was rewarded by hearing Margaret take his part. "You should have continued, Mr. Nelson-and described yourself in your proper colours,

"like a mildewed ear,

Blasting his wholesome brother!"

"Hear, hear! said the Vicar, wiping the tears that laughter had brought to his cheeks, "we'll cut him up in our next edition of the 'Dunciad,' Alfred! Now as Mary has been making signs to me for the last ten minutes to let her off, and as time is getting on, I suggest, most dear actors, that we proceed on our walk."

The party set out, but were soon quitted by Mary, who had an engagement at the school. Nelson insisted on carrying her basket as far as the door, and the Vicar walked on, conversing with Alfred and Margaret. The former having remarked that his mother and her guest were gone out for the day, Mr. Leyden said he would defer his call, that he might have the pleasure of seeing Miss Armadale face to face, and trying to persuade her to settle at Rockstone Manor. "Whereabouts is the Manor-house?" asked Mar

garet.

go

"On the other side of the village, come, we will that way, if you are not tired."

Margaret was a little so: but she would not own it, and they took the round of the village accordingly, and in time reached a wide common, skirted on one side by the woods of the Manor. Here the Vicar, having consulted his watch, declared he must leave them, and advised them to be content with a hasty peep, and go home, as the clouds were gathering. “There is a new path just opened to the Grange," he said, "you cannot miss it, Alfred, and you had better make the best of your way."

Alfred protested he knew every inch of the common, and with praiseworthy perseverance marched his companion hither and thither: showed her all the finest points of view, beguiling the way with poetry, legend, and narrative, without the least regard to time or distance, till he was checked in his career by hearing Margaret sigh with fatigue. "Dear me, Miss Esther, I am afraid you are tired."

"Rather, I confess," said Miss Armadale, who was ready to drop, "and I think it is beginning to rain. Are we not near the Grange?" "I suppose spupon my life... it is very absurd"... said Alfred, looking amazedly round, and rubbing his eyes to make sure he was not dreaming, "this looks very like-I am sadly afraid, Miss Esther, we have come the way!"

wrong

There was no doubt of the fact: but Margaret had not the heart to blame her unlucky guide, whose remorse was pitiable to see: she only observed they had better not talk any more, but make the best of their way home.

"But which is the way? where is it?" said poor Alfred, turning round on every side like one distracted- "I can't conceive what's come to the common, that I should have lost my way!" Margaret saw his confusion was becoming greater every minute; and a sudden gust of wind brought a volley of sleet into her face that made her desperate. Holding up her hand imperiously, "Stand still, Mr. Crawford!"

she said, in a commanding tone. Alfred mechanically obeyed. "Wait a minute, and recover your senses." He waited-"Now," she said, quietly, "look across the common, and see if you cannot recognise some landmark to be our guide." He did so in silence, and suddenly exclaimed, “I have it! we are two miles from home-take my arm, Miss Esther, and come on, for the storm is gathering fast."

So Margaret saw, to her great dismay; but there was no help for it, and she pitied him too much to let him see her annoyance. Before they had gone, however, a hundred yards on their new track, the tempest came full in their faces: wind, hail, sleet—all the ills flesh is heir to, that will go losing itself on commons, in the middle of December. Miss Armadale, already fatigued, and unused to violent exertion, found her heart and her knees fail grievously: she persevered as long as she could: but at length a dizziness seized her head, every thing swam before her eyes, and she was compelled to stop short, or she would have fallen. "Good heavens!" gasped Alfred, "I am killing her -I shall be her death-this lovely, gentle, gracious being-Esther! sweet Esther! keep up-we shall soon reach shelter-we are nearly there-turn your back to the wind for a minute, and lean upon me." She did so, and was enabled to struggle on for some way farther they had just entered on a small wood adjoining the Vicarage garden, when her strength failed again, and she almost fainted. Alfred felt as if