brain'd, generous Margaret Newcastle.

It has been the lot of my cousin, oftener perhaps than I could have wished, to have had for her associates and mine, free-thinkers-leaders, and disciples, of novel philosophies and systems; but she neither wrangles with, nor accepts, their opinions. That which was good and venerable to her, when she was a child, retains its authority over her mind still. She never juggles or plays tricks with her understanding. We are both of us inclined to be a little too positive; and I have observed the result of our disputes to be almost uniformly this that in matters of fact, dates, and circumstances, it turns out, that I was in the right, and my cousin in the wrong. But where we have differed upon moral points; upon something proper to be done, or let alone; whatever heat of opposition, or steadiness of conviction, I set out with, I am sure always, in the long run, to be brought over to her way of thinking.

I must touch upon the foibles of my kinswoman with a gentle hand, for Bridget does not like to be told of her faults. She hath an aukward trick (to say no worse of it) of reading in company: at which times she will answer yes or no to a question, without fully understanding its purport-which is provoking, and derogatory in the highest degree to the dignity of the putter of the said question. Her presence of mind is equal to the most pressing trials of life, but will sometimes desert her upon trifling occasions. When the purpose requires it, and is a thing of moment, she can speak to it greatly; but in matters, which are not stuff of the conscience, she hath been known sometimes to let slip a word less seasonably.

Her education in youth was not much attended to; and she happily missed all that train of female garniture, which passeth by the name of accomplishments. She was tumbled early, by accident or design, into a spacious closet of good old English reading, without much selection or prohibition, and browsed at will upon that fair and wholesome pasturage. Had I twenty girls, they should be brought up exactly in this fashion. I know not whether their chance in

wedlock might not be diminished by it; but I can answer for it, that it makes (if the worst come to the worst) most incomparable old maids.

In a season of distress, she is the truest comforter; but in the teazing accidents, and minor perplexities, which do not call out the will to meet them, she sometimes maketh matters worse by an excess of participation. If she does not always divide your trouble, upon the pleasanter occasions of life she is sure always to treble your satisfaction. She is excellent to be at a play with, or upon a visit; but best, when she goes a journey with you.

We made an excursion together a few summers since, into Hertfordshire, to beat up the q quarters of some of our less-known relations in that fine corn country.

The oldest thing I remember is Mackery End; or Mackarel End, as it is spelt, perhaps more properly, in some old maps of Hertfordshire; a farm-house, delightfully situated within a gentle walk from Wheathampstead. I can just remember having been there, on a visit to a great-aunt, when I was a child, under the care of Bridget; who, as I have said, is older than myself by some ten years. I wish that I could throw into a heap the remainder of our joint existences, that we might share them in equal division. But that is impossible. The house was at that time in the occupation of a substantial yeoman, who had married my grandmother's sister. His name was Gladman. My grandmother was a Bruton, married to a Field. The Gladmans and the Brutons are still flourishing in that part of the county, but the Fields are almost extinct. More than forty years had elapsed since the visit I speak of; and, for the greater portion of that period, we had lost sight of the other two branches also. Who, or what sort of persons, inherited Mackery Endkindred or strange folk-we were afraid almost to conjecture, but determined some day to explore.

By somewhat a circuitous route, taking the noble park at Luton in our way from Saint Alban's, we arrived at the spot of our anxious curiosity about noon. The sight of the old farm-house, though every trace of it was effaced from my recollection, affected me with a pleasure

which I had not experienced for many a year. For though I had forgotten it, we had never forgotten being there together, and we had been talking about Mackery End all our lives, till memory on my part became mocked with a phantom of itself, and I thought I knew the aspect of a place, which, when present, O how unlike it was to that, which I had conjured up so many times instead of it!

Still the air breathed balmily about it; the season was in the "heart of June," and I could say with the poet,

But thou, that did'st appear so fair
To fond imagination,
Dost rival in the light of day

Her delicate creation! *

Bridget's was more a waking bliss than mine, for she easily remembered her old acquaintance again-some altered features, of course, a little grudged at. At first, indeed, she was ready to disbelieve for joy; but the scene soon re-confirmed itself in her affections and she traversed every out-post of the old mansion, to the wood-house, the orchard, the place where the pigeon-house had stood (house and birds were alike flown) with a breathless impatience of recognition, which was more pardonable perhaps than decorous, at the age of fifty odd. But Bridget in some things is behind her years.

The only thing left was to get into the house and that was a difficulty, which to me singly would have been insurmountable; for I am terribly shy in making myself known to stran gers, and out-of-date kinsfolk. Love, stronger than scruple, winged my cousin in without me; but she soon returned with a creature, that might have sat to a sculptor for the image of Welcome. It was the youngest of the Gladmans; who, by marriage with a Bruton, had become mistress of the old mansion. A comely brood are the Brutons. Six of them, females, were noted as the handsomest young women in the county. But this adopted Bruton, in my mind, was better than they all-more comely. She was born too late to have remembered me. She just recollected in early life to have had her cousin Bridget once pointed out to her, climbing a style. But the name of

kindred, and of cousinship, was enough. Those slender ties, that prove slight as gossamer in the rending atmosphere of a metropolis, bind faster, as we found it, in hearty, homely, loving Hertfordshire. In five minutes we were as thoroughly acquainted, as if we had been born and bred up together; were familiar, even to the calling each other by our Christian names. So Christians should call one another. To have seen Bridget, and her-it was like the meeting of the two Scriptural cousins! There was a grace and dignity, an amplitude of form and stature, answering to her mind, in this farmer's wife, which would have shined in a palace -or so we thought it. We were made welcome by husband and wife equally-we, and our friend that was with us.-I had almost forgotten him- but B. F. will not so soon for get that meeting, if peradventure he shall read this on the far distant shores where the Kangaroo haunts. The fatted calf was made ready, or rather was already so, as if in anticipation of our coming; and, after an appropriate glass of native wine, never let me forget, with what honest pride this hospitable cousin made us proceed to Wheathampstead, to introduce us (as some new-found rarity) to her mother and sister Gladmans, who did indeed know something more of us, at a time when she almost knew nothing.-With what corresponding kindness we were received by them also-how Bridget's memory, exalted by the occasion, warmed into a thousand half obliterated recollections of things and persons, to my utter astonishment, and her own-and to the astoundment of B. F. who sat by, almost the only thing that was not a cousin there, -old effaced images of more than half-forgotten names and circumstances still crowding back upon her, as words written in lemon come out upon exposure to a friendly warmth,

when I forget all this, then may my country cousins forget me; and Bridget no more remember, that in the days of weakling infancy I was her tender charge-as I have been her care in foolish manhood sincein those pretty pastoral walks, long ago, about Mackery End, in Hertfordshire.

ELIA.

RETURNING from a convivial party the other evening, about ten o'clock, by Santa Lucia, we were struck by the brilliant appearance of Vesuvius: we had for some days past been interested by a singular change that had taken place in the source and direction of its lava, and had indeed resolved on an excursion to the smoky, sulphureous summit of our old friend. The night, though cold and windy, was rather fine; there was moonlight enough to light us up the rugged ascent, without torches the virtuous bottles of Capri rosso we had drunk, had kindled a light and warmth in our spirits that rendered us quite en etat to dare hazardous, and investigate curious, things; therefore, we determined at once to go up; and, calling a hack, in about an hour were rolled to Resina, the little town which joins Portici, at the foot of the mountain, and in which is the entrance to the too confined excavations of Herculaneum.

At Resina, according to custom, of "time immemorial," we hired asses and guides: this operation, which one would think easy enough, was in this instance (as it has been in several others) to me attended with much difficulty; a crowd of fellows, at the sound of our approaching carriage, rushed out with their asses and mules, and surrounded us in a most clamorous manner. Scarcely had we set foot to ground, when about half a dozen of these half naked rough rogues seized upon me as an object of contest; first, I was pulled by one, who declared by his patron saint that his ass never stumbled; then, by another, who with great warmth of asseveration, gave me to understand that all the Milordi Inglesi took his mule, which was the best mule ever created; then, another, who protested that if his ass made one false step with me, he would suffer me to throw him (id est, the master, not the ass) into the mouth of the volcano; then came another, who swore they were all liars, that his was the only good animal-then "another, and ano

Naples, February 13, 1821. ther, and another." Tired of this squabble, and seeing that my companions were already mounted, I drove two or three of these bellowing rascals off my arm, and choosing an ass of a comely appearance, and stout withal," caught hold of the rope, and put my foot in the stirrup. My tormentors, however, were too tenacious to resign me so quietly; one of the most forward again caught hold of me, and pulled me in his arms to his own chucha: the master of the ass I had mounted was no chicken; he followed up the enemy, retiring with the prey, and began to pull me back again. This game of "pull devil, pull baker continued, no way to my satisfaction, until I contrived to get one of my arms free, and bestow on the intruder an Englishman's fist on "that feature which the human face embosses." This testimonial of wrath, arrested his bold perseverance, and at last I found myself in saddle, and trotted after my friends, to the no small triumph and heart's content of the owner of the ass, which so nobly bore me. You remember how rough and laborious the ascent of the mountain is, being nearly all steep, and over rough old lava; we arrived, however, safe at San Salvatore, so very improperly called a hermitage, as it is, in fact, nothing but a taverna (low inn) and the old fellow who wears the hermit's garb, nothing more than a tavernaro; and a fleecing and insolent one too, he is, as I have several times experienced to my cost.

Here we found a company of Englishmen (composed chiefly of officers from the fleet now lying in the Bay of Naples) who had just returned from the crater: while we were discussing some boiled eggs and Lacrymæ Christi (for so the old rogue persists in calling his bad wine) another company arrived, consisting of three English gentlemen, and two ladies; the dear eyes of the latter had been reddened by the heat of the lava, and the violence of the wind; their white faces and hands, and "snaw white" drapery had been

sadly smoked and blackened in the regions of sulphur they had just quitted; and I was particularly touched, by observing the sad derangement of Spanish leather boots; "for surely," thought I, "the sharp lava that has treated them so roughly, can hardly have respected the tender feet they inclose."

Well! let our enemies say what they will of us, they never can deny that we are a curious enthusiastic people always the first to run in crowds where information is to be had, or curiosity to be satisfied, whatever be the sacrifices required, or the price to be paid. What feats have been done, even by our ladies! Within these few years, how many a white gown and straw hat, made in Bond-street, the Arcade, or some other of the purlieus of fashion, has floated on the summit of this flaming mountain, glanced among the pillars of Grecian ruins, or glided along the bases of the tremendous pyramids! For one of any other nation that comes to this mountain, I suppose there are at least three Englishmen; and perhaps only the Germans and Russians come so near as one to three. I never ascended the mountain but twice, without meeting some of my countrymen. Two years ago, on the first of January, I passed a cheerful night on the mountain, with twenty Englishmen, and four ladies; we cooked some tolerable good beef steaks and pork chops over the lava, whose heat and light sufficed us: whilst seated in groups, we drank to the success of our distant country, and distant friends. But let me return to the subject.

We left the hermitage about one o'clock-the wind, which had tormented us considerably during the ascent, now blew so violent and so cold as to be almost irresistible. You remember when you ascended the volcano, there was a path by which you could approach within a few paces of the cone within which, for some centuries, has been the grand crater-this path continued practicable until lately, but we now found it destroyed, and covered with rough masses of hardened lava, at a short distance from the hermitage; here, therefore, we were obliged to dismount. We began immediately to cross the lava, accompanied by one

old Cicerone. This was an enterprize of considerable difficulty: the lava had cooled in very rough, irregular masses, and many loose knobs, affording an insecure footing, rolled from under our feet, as we bounded from one to the other; each of us sustained several falls, and even the long pole and longer practice of our guide, could not at times keep him on his feet. After walking in this fatiguing way for a little while, we turned off to the left, and continued along a sort of valley or ravine, which separates the cone of Vesuvius from the rugged Monte di Somma. This direction soon brought us to the present mouth, which opened about six weeks ago. As we approached, we were struck with its tremendous and horrid grandeur-we could wish for a pencil all genius, and fire, to delineate it, for we feel with particular force, just at the moment, the difficulty of describing with words grotesque shapes, tremendous figures, awful glaring lights, murky and blue sulphureous shades —the intricacies of form, and the nuances of chiaro oscuro.

A cone about twenty feet high rose up in the ravine; it was flattened in part, on the side towards the sea, and on this side opened a chasm in the form of a parallelogram, rounded at the top; this mouth has never thrown out lava, stones, or ashes, so that we had no hesitation in approaching to its very sides. In looking inward, we saw at about twelve or fifteen feet below us, a broad deep stream of lava, in its most liquid state, rolling on slow and silently, emitting a heat and brilliancy which almost blinded us as we gazed. We

saw

A dungeon horrible on all sides round,
As one great furnace flamed.

I know nothing to which the lava might be compared, excepting, perhaps, a large stream of molten gold. It is common to compare the flowing lava to founded iron, but in this early part of its course (no doubt near to the primary source) it is too glittering, and has too much of a yellow hue to resemble that metal. The cone (on which we now stood) was hollow, indeed the incrustation which held us from fire and destruction, was very thin: from the top of the