the vast expanse of sea, the white projecting cliffs that skirted the ocean for some miles, and seemed to guard this happy coast from even the ravages of time itself; they stood firm and unshaken, whilst the utmost exertion of human strength lay by in ruined heaps. A few miles from the spot, in a small cottage, Lord R. had sent a most acceptable and ample collation, which, as the table was very small, and allowed but one or two things at a time, reminded Pneumanee of a German dinner, which she described, and had lasted at least four hours. All sorts of ornamental cold dishes, with fruits and wines, covered the table in a most elegant and fanciful style; leaving only the space at the top and bottom for soups, which were succeeded by fish, meats, game, and innumerable et-ceteras, that were carved, and regularly carried round the table, where numerous servants were waiting. The lady's own maid, dressed in the regular costume of female servants-a neat stuff jacket and petticoat, with a small handkerchief round the neck, pinned close under the gown, regularly stood behind her lady's chair, not to wait upon her, but to be ready if she should particularly want her:-they have the privilege of wearing a satin cap embroidered with gold or silver, pretty close to the face, ornamented with a tassel, that is reckoned very becoming. When the lady of the house got up from the dinner-table, she held out her hand, which every gentleman kissed, and then all withdrew together to the drawing-room, where very good music finished the evening. Pneumanee highly entertained them with an account of German inns, where pigs and poultry at one end, and a fire-place at the other

end of the barn, with no avenue for the smoke to go out but at the great barn-door, and various sleeping accommodations for travellers, under the same roof, offered a miserable night to those who knew no better than to trust them. As the evening was closing in, and they were getting up from their protracted dinner, Lucy - fancifully held out her hand in imitation of the German ladies; Lord R. stept suddenly behind her, and very unexpectedly kissed it. She started, and asked Pneumanee if she ought to be angry for introducing a custom into England, that was so elegant in Germany? and laughing, ran into the carriage, where the party followed and got home to their early tea. They most unexpectedly found Charles returned from Eton, and Fanny said, "He finished their brilliant day most delightfully." Lucy felt equal joy and rapture: they each kissed him again. and again he was grown tall, fat, and well-looking. Lucy lamented she had not been at home to see his first impressions of rapture. "They are not over yet," he said; and giving her a warm embrace, with his arm round her, he swung her in a sort of waltz round the room. He was introduced to Lord R. who called him a happy fellow to be so beloved and so affectionately welcomed. Charles shook hands with the Miss Volatiles, hoped their brothers were very well, and were as fond of meeting their sisters as he was. Pneumanee gave him a reproving smile, which he well understood: he seized her hand, and kissing it, said, if he had not found her at the Parsonage, it would have spoiled his holidays. “I have staid," said Pneumanee, "among other reasons, to hear that joyous laugh of your's." The old nurse brought

down the children; Robert must show his brother the rabbits and the tame owl; not a minute ewas Charles allowed to be still, they had so much to inquire and so much to show.

Richard, who had been some time lying in wait in the passage, now caught him to welcome him home"Lack-a-day, Master Charles, how you be grown, sure enough you shoot up very fast; aye, 'twas but t'other day you was born, I shall never forget it; a cold northeast wind-how my teeth did chatter in my head when I went for Dame I forgets her name"—"Never mind, my old friend," says Charles, "forget it all next time you tell it.""What, before I begin? no, no, Master Charles, now you knows Latin and Greek, don't think we have forgot our English, we knows what's what, though we don't go to grammar-schools as you do." "Well done, my old boy," slapping him on the shoulder, "when I am a great man"-"What then?" said Richard, eagerly-" Why then," says Charles, "I shall slap you much harder."-" Oh, you need not, Sir," rubbing his shoulder, " I assure you that will do very well; but I thought, now you learn so much, you will soon be a great man, and mayhap give me a bit of an estate.""Oh, my good friend Richard," said Charles, awakened by his simplicity to a recollection of his worth, "Greek and Latin do not easily produce estates." "Good lack, then why do you spend so much time in getting it by heart? I thought you were sure to be paid for it?" Charles shook him by the hand and called him an honest fellow. The old nurse was proud to see that he had attended to her advice, and never went about with

wet feet: he gave his other hand to her, and spared her the pain of knowing that he had never troubled his head about his feet since he had seen her last. After running into every room in the house, and rejoicing that they were all exactly the same as he left them, and quite as dear to him as ever; he returned to the drawing-room, just as Lord R. was taking his leave. He begged to see him to breakfast at the Rock-house-had he a horse? and would he ride with him? Charles had no horse, but would most willingly go to breakfast. The day had been most long and most happy; full of all the events it had produced, they gaily went to bed, after repeating twenty more than usual good nights to dearest Charles, before he shut his door, and several after it, which he could not but hear.

"Surely," said Pneumanee, "there is not a happier family in the world."

Charles rose soon after the sun, and was at Lord R.'s before he was awake. He patiently waited in the breakfastroom, caressing a little dog till his Lordship came, and then found that he had nothing to do but caress the little dog again. Lord R. soon engaged his esteem by the ease and pleasantry of his manner, and soon after breakfast ordered the groom to lead his poney before the windows, where Charles might see it. "Oh, it is such a beautiful creature," says Charles; " and such a smart bridle and saddle-I never saw any thing half so handsome." He ran out to the door, walked round and round it—was it quiet?-so unlike an Eton hack, he had never seen so lovely a creature. It was very quiet, Lord R. said, he had rode it for two months during a very debilitating fit of illness; he was now well, and returned to his former

habits, and begged Charles to accept Mitre for his own. Charles could not believe it possible, and said, “Oh no, Sir, I am sure you cannot part with him, I must not take him."—" Indeed you must," said Lord R. "or I shall be quite displeased." Charles mounted Mitre immediately, and the groom giving him a whip, which he thought much too smart for him, thanked him, but a stick would do for him very well; the groom was ordered to give the whip, and he must do it. Charles took it, saying he would not be absent a quarter of an hour, and rode instantly to the Parsonage. Never was a more joyous face than his when he entered the breakfastroom; they all ran out to see Mitre; they each got upon him by turns to ride round the lawn, and thought Charles the happiest fellow in the world: so Charles said he was, except that the days were hardly long enough to ride Mitre so much as he could wish. "I knew," said Pneumanee, "how much you would be pleased."-"How came you to know any thing about it?" then recollecting himself, "pardon me, dearest Pneumanee," said he, "I have lately lived with mere mortals."-" I very seldom remind you," she replied, "that you know any thing else."

A servant from Lord R. requested the honour of the Lady Pneumanee's company at the Rock-house for an hour. "I dare say," said Fanny, " to announce his marriage."—"Oh no," said Pneumanee, "that's all fiction, not one syllable of truth attached to it."-"What," said Fanny, "not the fortune nor the beauty?"—"O no, nor the wings of the mansion, nor the forty sheets of parchment, not one syllable; it was all fabricated in the vil