in

important act of your life, do not destroy its general tenour, and lose the good opinion the world entertain of your judgment. Do not destroy the Duke's confidence in your obedience; convince him of your unalterable duty and respect in a moment of such importance to your peace; offer him a hand disengaged, he will triumph your forbearance: and to make it less painful to yourself, recollect the anxieties you will save the lovely girl herself; the possibility of such an event has never yet entered into her fancy-what might she not feel for you and for herself in an interval so important?-it must not be, my Lord, and you must assure me it shall not, or I must not allow you to be this evening at the Parsonage." As the party returned, with very little injury from the briar, his Lordship had only time to say, she was always right, and should be obeyed. The evening was spent in the usual way at the Parsonage, with occasional serious moments, not quite in Lord R.'s customary style-they tried, but knew not the right way to remove them. The fleeting hours too quickly passed away; his chariot was at the door before Lord R. had quite settled with himself whether he should ever like the interfering Pneumanee as well as he did before, and doubted if it was not a great weakness to suffer human passions to be guided by a being superior to their pains and penalties. With this impression he walked two or three times about the room. Pneumanee saw his agitation, and guessing the cause, said, "My dear Fanny, I believe you have the happiest mind in the world; you seem to enjoy making that infant's cap for a poor woman, as much as you could a birth-day suit for yourself." Lord

R. felt the force of the remark; he could not consent to disturb the tranquillity of such a peaceful mind: he smiled at Pneumanee, and taking her by the hand, asked her permission to write upon the business of the morning, as soon as circumstances would permit him. The chariot drove again round the ring, as if impatient of delay, and cordially taking leave of all the party, and entreating Charles not to suffer him to be forgotten at the Parsonage, he hurried to his carriage, and the sound of the wheels were soon lost upon the attentive ear. "Such a man,” said Lucy, "would be missed in any society, no wonder we all feel such a blank." The Rector gave Charles a very entertaining book to read to the party. Fanny had a new stock of Christmas presents to make for the poor, and they very actively began to cut them out. They occasionally mentioned the pleasure they expected from hearing of Lord R.'s safety in London, and made some conjectures upon the presents he would probably send. Lucy said, they certainly should be very dull without him: they all were sure of it. "I think," said Lucy, "I shall learn Milton by heart, at least all the pretty parts of it, and then I shall soon forget him." With this view, when they parted for the night, she took it with her to her peaceful and happy pillow.

As soon as Lucy reached the breakfast-room, the next morning, she began: 'Sweet is the breath of morn, her 'rising sweet, with charm of earliest birds; pleasant the 'sun, when first on this delightful land it sheds its 'orient beam on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, glittering 'with dew.'-"O stop, my dear Lucy," said Charles; "for if you make me think of such a lovely summer's

morning, I shall hate the gray gloom of such a one as this, which really, without such a comparison, is itself delightful."-" But who," said Lucy, "could ever stop in the middle of such a description? you must have it all:

Fragrant the fertile earth after soft showers, and 'sweet the coming on of grateful evening mild.'—Well, Charles," she added, "I will spare you the rest in compliment to your gray morning, which really has such a pensive mildness about it, that it seems modestly to claim admiration."_" But," said Fanny," the greatest beauty of that charming description is the repetition of all those delightful images: But neither breath of morn, when ' she ascends with charm of earliest birds; nor rising sun 'on this delightful land; nor herb, fruit, flower, glisten'ing with dew; nor fragrance after showers, nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night, with this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon or glittering star-light, without 'thee is sweet."-" See, Charles," said Lucy, "I stopped too soon, as if I was not very fond of 'Silent night, 'with this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, and these, 'the gems of heaven, her starry train;' and you know I doat upon them all."—"Dear Pneumanee," said Charles, "why is it that all these lines make me think of Lord R.?"—" I suppose, Charles," she replied, "he has so lately been our companion, that we all think of him more to-day than we shall to-morrow, and naturally feel the loss of a pleasant friend."-"Yes," said Charles, smiling, "Othello's occupation's gone!" "Where is Mitre, Charles? Yesterday he was so great a treasure, that you conceived you should never wish for any thing else.""That is very true," said Charles, " and I am mortified

"of

to find that I think more of the pleasure I have lost than the one I have secured." Pneumanee, who naturally conceived Charles might not be (the only one of the party who felt the same thing, said, "We should be all ungrateful for the pleasant days we have owed to Lord R. if we did not regret his absence; but we should accustom ourselves to think of pleasure as we do of sun-shine, most delightfully cheering, but, were it constant and unceasing, would be unnoticed and undervalued."_" Do you think, my dear Pneumanee," said Lucy, "we should "I cannot conceive ever have been tired of Lord R.?”. it," said Fanny, "only that I know Pneumanee is always right."-"Why, my dear Fanny," said Pneumanee, "are you not always the more glad to see me for having been absent?"—"I am not conscious," said Fanny, ever feeling a careless moment upon that subject; I always dread to lose you even for a day, lament every hour that you are absent, and long impatiently for your return."—"But all this, my dear Fanny," replied Pneumanee, "is the very thing that endears me to you. If hour of life would be devoted you knew that every to you, I dread to say what an indifference you might feel about it; and so," she said, laughing, "I am going to leave you for a few days to convince you of the truth of my assertion.”—“O,” said Fanny, "I will try to forget you, to convince you it is a very bad plan to leave us."—" Do not go, dear Pneumanee," said Lucy, “till Lord R. has written to you; we shall so want to hear his letter and to receive his presents; it will all, of course, be directed to you, and I shall so want to know how and what he writes: if he does not write like a gentleman,

my

and two or three people must examine the letter to decypher it, I shall not like him as well as I do now; and if he thinks and treats us with less civility, now he is in Lordon, than when in the country, he is not half so wellbred as I fancy him."" Well," said Pneumanee, “it will be a sad thing, no doubt, to keep your opinion so long unsettled, and your patience in such tormenting exercise; therefore I commission Fanny to open my letter, and to tell you as much of the contents as she may think proper." "Oh no, my dear Pneumanee," said Fanny, "not for the world; if any thing should be there that Lord R. did not mean I should hear, I should feel guilty of improper curiosity, and never see him with confidence again."-" Nor will you open it, Lucy?"—“I should like it of all things," she said, "if dear Fanny had not been so scrupulous, but now it was impossible.""Shall I open it?" said Charles." No, Charles," Pneumanee said, "upon no account."-" I begin to guess something," said Charles, archly, "but I shall not tell what." Pray do, said they all; for guessing and surmising leads to folly and nonsense, fit for village gossips, but not for gentlemen. Then Charles said, he would conceal carefully his guesses, but he could not give them up, he should look so foolish if he was wrong. The Miss Volatiles, anxious to tell all they knew of an anonymous letter, and, in the hope of hearing much more, now entered the lawn.-What, had the dear creatures never heard of it?-Oh, then it could not be true.-Had not Pneumanee heard of it.-Yes, she remembered Lord R. had mentioned it; but he held such mean and vulgar proceedings in such utter contempt, that he did not