night, and Mary picked out the ten best for the purpose: with some little alteration they will do again, but Fame and the Hermit, and all the rest, must be eaten to-day; for they won't keep: would they all come in, and help to eat it up?-Lucy said, she should like of all things to taste the Hermit, if he did not resemble any thing human, which she could hardly suppose possible.Miss Volatile was half inclined to think Lucy rude; but recollecting her constant high spirits and good humour, said, "Well, Lucy, I will have him embalmed for you, that you may eat him at your leisure." As the Rector was waiting at home for his tea, and they were already later than usual, they parted and walked home without delay, pitying their friends for their disappointment.

Whilst they were drinking their tea, to which an autumnal walk had given a high relish, a fine laced footman brought a note to the Rector from Lord R. requesting permission to sit in his seat in church, as he understood it was a large one, and the only pew that might not be too cold for him after his indisposition. As soon as the permission was granted, and the fine servant had retired from the door, "Was ever any thing so unlucky?" said Fanny; "all my resolutions never to see this man are turned aside the very first day he comes: do you think, papa, I may not sit with any body else?"—" By no means," the Rector said, "Lord R. would then feel that his request was an inconvenient one; besides, my dear," he added, “I hope your are too sensible of the presence of that Being you go expressly to meet, to be solicitous about your appearance to any body else.""I hope so, papa," Fanny said. A minute

after Lucy exclaimed, "My hat is turned very yellow too, Fanny, but I don't think it signifies; people in the country can't be expected to dress like London ladies." Fanny smiled.

The Rector read his Saturday evening's lecture; but I am sadly afraid his daughters were not so scrupulously attentive as they had sometimes been: this church tomorrow would run in their heads, and, in spite of their objections to this satirical man, they thought which of their ribbons was of the most becoming colour: much they talked of it when they retired to bed, and Fanny resolved to pin simply in her chip-hat a sprig of purple heath, and another in her bosom. " A proud sort of defiance," Lucy said, "to grandeur and parade, and displayed a high taste and feeling for rustic simplicity." Pneumanee, always lovely and most interesting, pinned a carnation on her breast that had the richest crimson glow; that expressed, if a flower could express it, that all within was rich and brilliant in fancy, and glowing with, the proud pre-eminence of virtue and goodness. This was Fanny's interpretation of her choice. She smiled, and pinned her flower more securely. Soon after they were seated in church, and Lucy had shaken up the cushions in every corner of the pew, Lord R. came in; and gracefully bowing to the party, thanked the Rector's wife for the privilege she so kindly allowed him. Seeing Pneumanee, he took her hand; rejoiced to see her in the country; and learning that she was on a visit to the Parsonage, and that those young ladies belonged there, he again bowed, and promised himself the honour of calling upon her very soon. Here was a

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new source of misery: the Lord R. that was so satirical; that made such a fuss at the Volatiles to get a dinner, and would not go to eat it; the very man who was said to be of a distinct species, and turned every thing into ridicule; that very Lord R. that used to laugh at every thing, was now actually coming to the Parsonage to make fun of every thing he saw and heard. To be sure, he behaved very well at church; but that was a distinct thing, and he must have been profligate indeed to have been witty there. "Well, Lucy," said Fanny, "I really do love simplicity and the country better than ever; and I will show him that it is choice, and not necessity, that governs my taste." The sermon was preached, as usual, to the heart and feelings of the congregation.

"If the Prophet had told thee to do some great thing, wouldest thou not have done it?" was the interesting text, and never was a finer piece of oratory delivered. Much of the sublimity of Barrow was blended with the refinement of modern oratory: luckily for the young ladies, nothing was said of the sermon at home.

The ever kind and considerate Pneumanee conjectured perhaps that their attention had been a little diverted, and did not wish to convince them that it had been so. They had not been aware she had been so well acquainted with Lord R.; she had never spoke of him as a friend; and Lucy begged to know if she was ashamed of him?" By no means," she replied, "but I have a particular dislike to talking of Lords and Ladie it is a weak way of endeavouring to derive importan and I carefully avoid it, as it is always understood by company as assuming a superiority over them, whi

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they very reluctantly allow, and do not easily forgive, especially as titles and distinctions do not always imply excellence of heart or brilliancy of talents: besides, my dear girls," she added, "I wished you to see this young man without prejudice, and to judge of him yourselves."

"I think him very handsome," said Lucy, "and he makes a most graceful bow."-"Yes," said Fanny, "good breeding is a fine thing; it gives a lustre to the figure that I have not been used to see: his arms never seemed out of place; he never stumbled over the hassocks, or trod upon our gowns, as some gentlemen do: I wonder when he will pay this promised visit; this evening do you think?”—“Oh no, he may not come for several days, but it will certainly be in a morning.". "And if we should not be at home?"" Then he will leave his name upon a ticket, which is a perfect visit."

"And then?""Why then your papa must return his visit the next day: so far is unavoidably settled by the customs of fashion, for the mutual convenience and comfort of both parties: after this is settled, they are trusted in their progress to their own times and tastes."

These were quite new ideas: in the simplicity of village life friends called who really wished to see you, and not finding you at home, would call again and again till they did find you. "A card was a miserable substitute for a friend," Fanny said; "though, in this case, she really preferred it to the man, of whom she was downright afraid."

A large packet was now sent off to Charles, with every little event that had varied the sameness of the village joys. A tame white owl was brought to Lucy as

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a present by the old fisherman, who had trained it to eat out of her hand, and run domestic about the garden; it was a great favourite, and Charles was requested to acquire a strong partiality for it before he came home, which the uncommon beauty of its plumage, and the laughable gravity of his visage, would be sure to confirm. A thousand such important circumstances were most acceptable to Charles, as coming from home; and his replies, though she did not immediately understand the full importance of being sent up for good and sent up for play, were of equal interest to Fanny, and constituted much of the pleasure with which her happy hours rolled cheerfully away. Several days had passed, with the worktable in proper arrangement to receive company, and nobody had appeared; it was even rumoured that Lord R. had left the village. The family were to spend the next day, at some miles distant, with old friends, who were very meritorious people in the important duties in life, but had extraordinary peculiarities of manners and habits, which both surprised and amused you every moment. The morning proved a very fine one; and the sun, that gilded every object around, found not in its glorious circle any beings more susceptible of its bless ings, more exulting in its sublime influence, than the young and happy daughters of the Rector. He rode by the carriage, which was hired in the village, and, furnished with a front seat, held four with the greatest possible convenience; Lucy protesting she had room to spare, with a laugh that carried conviction to every body's feelings that her own part of it was indeed a very small one. It was not a common occurrence, she said, to spend