rogue of a servant gallop off in triumph on my gallant Storm, without a word of leave-taking, or of regret at parting, after having been in my service for five years. had some trouble even to prevent him from carrying off my saddle also, and his ingratitude had vexed me. As I now journeyed on the wretched beast which a freak of fortune had thrown beneath me, I espied a traveller a short distance in advance, apparently as much irritated as myself. He gesticulated vehemently, shaking his clenched fist towards the sky. I hastened to overtake him, gratified at having a companion in misfortune. His dress and appearance showed him to be one of the Jarochos, as the peasants are called in this part of the country. He burst into a loud laugh as soon as he saw me at his side. I inquired whether his unpalatable hilarity were directed against me. "You, senor cavalier?" he replied, "no; but you must excuse me if the appearance of your horse makes me dispense with my usual habits of courtesy." 'Still," I rejoined, much annoyed by his answer, "my horse is scarcely uglier than yours." "That is possible, but after all he is uglier: it is a satisfaction which I never hoped for, and by your favour I profit by it." Here the stranger again set up a laugh louder than ever; I was nettled, and to divert my vexation drew out one of my pistols and fired into the trees above our heads. A parrot fell fluttering to the ground. The Jarocho looked at me with an air of uneasy astonishment. "Did you happen to aim at it?" he asked. "Not a doubt of it," I answered, sharply, "and this ought to prove to you that it is sometimes dangerous to jeer at people before knowing them." At these words the other stopped his horse, and settling himself haughtily in the saddle, with one hand on his hip, while with the other he thrust his straw hat down upon his head, he exclaimed, "Hearken, senor unknown, I am of a caste and of a country where speech is short and the hand ready. I had no intention of offending you, but if you seek a quarrel with me you have found your man; notwithstanding the disparity of our arms, I shall try to do my best." The Jarocho then chanted a few lines of a song of defiance, and as he ended, drew out the keen blade that hung at his side. There was something chivalric in the idea of a passage of arms in the midst of an American solitude, but there was such an incongruity between the miserable appearance of our horses and the warlike attitude of their riders, that we broke simultaneously into a hearty peal of laughter, and I assured my opponent that after his disavowal of offensive intentions we had no longer any worthy motive for fighting. "I am glad that you are so easily satisfied," he answered, "for I have another quarrel on my hands, and to fight with you before settling that, would be a great breach of duty." After these explanations, we continued our route together, the Jarocho told me that he had been endeavouring to procure a knot of red ribands, to present on the morrow to Donna Sacramenta, a damsel of his acquaintance, at the fandango, or village festival of Manantial. Greatly to his disappointment his search had been fruitless. I expressed my intention of staying to witness the spectacle, and there being no tavern in the village, gave my fellow-traveller to understand that I should quarter myself at his house for the time. It was night when we reached the village, a few huts in an open part of the wood; several men in picturesque costume, and women dressed in white, were rehearsing the dances for the next day, to the sound of a guitar. Our arrival was hailed with shouts of welcome, and cries of "Ah, Calros has come," this being the provincial term for Carlos. My companion, however, manifested but little pleasure at this reception, the contraction of his brow denoted the working of some painful emotion. His eyes were fixed upon the group of dancers, and by the direction of his looks I distinguished the object of his attention. It was a young and graceful girl who seemed rather to glide than to walk over the green turf. A diadem of cucuyos, glow-worms, glittered upon the black tresses of her hair, mingled with a wreath of odoriferous flowers, and cast a mysterious and charming halo upon her forehead. Moving under the silver rays of the moon, Sacramenta might have been taken for one of the fairies that dance by night in the glades of the forest. The look of indifference, almost disdain, that the young girl cast upon the Jarocho, and the expression of angry jealousy visible in his features, soon revealed to me one of those painful dramas--one of the contests between coquetry and affection found everywhere under heaven. Calros, however, did not appear to be a man accustomed to see his homage treated with disdain. He waited patiently until the dance was finished, and then approaching Sacramenta, he dismounted, and although too far off to hear his words, I could tell by his gestures that he was making excuses on the subject of the red ribands. But the poor fellow seemed completely overcome by the mocking and ironical spirit in which his confession was received. While listening to the maiden's words, he played with the horn hilt of his machete, a straight narrow-bladed sword, and a gloomy cloud settled on his features; then, as if his pride were suddenly roused, he receded a pace or two, and lifted one foot into the stirrup to remount his horse. Before rising to the saddle, he turned to take a last look at the young girl. Sacramenta answered it by a shake of the head, by which a flower was detached from the wreath on her brow, and fell to the ground. The Jarocho looked at the little blossom with doubt, and the young girl at first seemed indifferent to his hesitation. But while re-arranging her head-dress, with a touch of coquetry which our drawing-room ladies might have envied, she pointed with her small blue-satin slippered foot to the flower lying on the grass. Calros' face became radiant with supreme delight; he stooped quickly, picked up the frail pledge of hope, leaped into his saddle, and was soon out of sight. He had evidently forgotten his proffered hospitality; I started in pursuit, and overtook him before he reached his cabin. This structure was one of the slight dwellings usual in this part of the country, the interior divided into three apartments by partitions of rushes. In one of these, an old woman, the mother of Calros, was preparing supper. After attending to our horses, we sat down to the repast, which consisted of rice-milk, fried bananas, and the red haricots, whose excellence is proverbial throughout the whole of Mexico. The meal over, the old woman retired, and stretching ourselves on the floor near the open door, my host and I lay awake conversing far into the night. Among other subjects the Jarocho spoke of his quarrel : :-"You saw Sacramenta," he said; "well, about six months ago, she became the subject of a dispute at a fandango, at which, as it happened, I was not present. A man was killed; the assassin made good use of his spurs, and fled. The man was my relative, and I was appointed, according to custom, to avenge his death. I cannot say that it grieved me much, for he loved Donna Sacramenta, and those who love her are my enemies; nevertheless, I accepted the duty imposed on me by a point of honour. Had nothing more been necessary than with sword in hand to demand satisfaction for the blood that had been spilt, I should have hastened to discharge the duty, but the carefully concealed traces of the murderer had to be sought for in all the villages of the shore country. It was ther I felt that I loved Sacramenta more than life, perhaps, more than honour, and I put off my pursuit from day to day. There are certain signs by which we know when a hurricane is going to blow, we can follow step by step On awaking the next morning, I found the Jarocho already up and dressed in the elegant picturesque costume of his class; he was as gay as pearls, strung with little mirrors, on velvet, and rows of reals and half-reals on Spanish leather, could make him. The hilt of his machete, suspended by a scarlet girdle to his side, was decorated with silken tufts of the same colour. He looked so brave in his equipments that I augured favourably for the affair nearest his heart; he had, however, one cause of regret, and that was his vow preventing him from fighting, but he promised to indemnify himself by a little extra singing, gaming, and drinking; I doubted much of the calming effects of cards and Catalonian brandy. All Manantial was in holiday trim, and from time to time the figures of daintily dressed women were seen at the open doors of the huts. A platform was erected under the shade of the trees for the dancers, and here and there impromptu stalls were raised for the sale of fruits, water, and brandy. The heat of the sun was almost insupportable, yet crowds of horsemen came pouring in; and soon nothing was to be heard but a confusion of neighings, shouts of laughter, and strumming of guitars. beauty, she whom Calros called his well-beloved human angel. She was charmingly dressed, presenting a rare specimen of the woman of the torrid zone in all her intoxicating beauty. Now there was something like excitement a mong the company: "Ah!" said a Jarocho, who stood at my side, to his comrade, "at the last fandango, at Malibran, Quilimaco lost one of his ears, and Juan de Dios the end of his nose, for a donna who was not worth a lock of this one's hair." "Patience, tio (uncle)," answered the other, "the beautiful Sacramenta, no doubt, has more than one adorer in the village, and I predict that before the evening she will have made the machete and chamarra dance, of at least two among us." I did not understand this dialogue; events were to explain the allusions to me. Meantime, the spectators had ranged themselves into two groups, partisans of different heroes. At the head of one, stood a proud-looking Jarocho, as sumptuously dressed as Calros, who had placed himself foremost among the others. The latter looked vexed, Sacramenta gave him no single glance, and as I came near him he said, in a low tone, "You see; hope yesterday, despair to day, such is my fate; we will start to-morrow." His regret was so poignant that I animadverted strongly on the maiden's coquetry. "Ah," he added, "she has not pardoned my inability to obtain that unfortunate knot of scarlet ribands." Just then, his rival approached the platform, and taking off his hat, offered it to Sacramenta with easy courtesy. She received it with a smile, and placed it on her head, without interrupting the evolutions required by the dance. Calros' face was unmoved; he contented himself by making an almost imperceptible sign to one of his partisans. The latter advancing in turn, also presented his hat. In such a case, custom requires that the lady show no preference for either admirer; she therefore continued dancing, holding a hat in each hand. Im The advantage of seeing his hat upon the head of the fair dancer, now remained to the third gallant who might embrace it; as I expected, it was Calros. mediately the two antagonists exchanged a look of defiance; then the first one untying his sash of China crape, threw it as a scarf on Sacramenta's shoulders, and arranged it so as to form a large scarlet rosette at her side. The guitars were twanged with renewed vigour, and the singers redoubled their efforts. The young girl conIn all the villages of this part of the country the tinued to dance, proud of the homage she had won, but women dance, and the men play the part of spectators. it was easy to see that Calros was tortured by jealousy. I joined myself to one of the groups, and presently a Courage," I whispered, "have you no longer the flower Jarocho, seating himself on the ground near the platform, upon your heart?" He raised his head, as though the began to strike his guitar with a vigorous hand. Eight thought had restored all his confidence, unfastened his or ten females obeyed the summons; they made the machete, and hung it close to the scarlet scarf over tour of the stage, and began to dance. Somewhat mo- Sacramenta's arm. Thus was the prediction accomnotonous at first, the movement became gradually plished which had shortly before puzzled me; the maiden animated, as the women chanted couplets in response to was dancing with the machete and chamarra of two of those sung by the musician. I admired the grace and her lovers. It was a singular sight, the steel-blade agility with which several of them, while dancing, carried in the sun, as the young girl went through her rapid a glass filled with water on their head, without spilling a evolutions. Suddenly, a voice called silence, and then drop; or untied complicated knots formed in a silk girdle commenced a defiant and alternated chant between round their feet, without using their hands. Notwith- Calros and his opponent, the effect of which was to standing the applause that followed these feats, the increase the exasperation already beginning to be felt. passions of the spectators appeared yet to slumber. Sacramenta turned pale, either from fatigue or appreHitherto the libations of brandy, flavoured with orange-hension, and according to usage, the rivals approached peel, had, in going round, elicited nothing but laughter, to redeem their pledges; the fixed price is a half-real, pungent repartee, and imprecations; soon, however, was but the two eager aspirants loaded her hands with coin. heard the prelude to a new air; it was the dance called She stood with downcast eyes, betraying no preference petenera. for one or the other; the question, it was evident, had to be settled by the machete, whereby all parties would be gratified, for one of the chief pleasures of a fandango is in the fight with which it generally terminates. At this This time, also, the platform was speedily filled, and among the females who came forward, I recognised Donna Sacramenta by her graceful figure and provoking juncture, an old woman came up, and with much asperity of tone and manner, reminded Calros of his vow. It was in vain that he sought to effect a compromise; she taunted him with breach of duty; he was obliged to submit, to the great triumph of his rival. A dispute arose which, as it could not be settled by swords, was about to be settled by cards, when the arrival of a stranger changed the state of affairs, and saved the honour of Manantial. His horse was at full speed; no one knew him; he drew up, and dismounting, advanced to the side of the platform, where, drawing his machete, to the hilt of which hung a knot of scarlet ribands, he used it to trace a circle on the sand, and then thrusting the point a few inches into the ground, left the weapon standing upright in the centre. All this, the arrogant defiance of a whole population, by a single individual, passed in silence. The opponent, so much desired by Calros' rival, could not have presented himself more opportunely. Every eye sought the boaster, but he, finding the new adversary, perhaps, too formidable, had vanished. The inhabitants of the village regarded the stranger with admiration, but no one seemed more impatient than Calros to measure swords with the unknown champion. It was for want of scarlet ribands that he had been unable to win Sacramenta's favour the night before; the struggle in his mind was a severe one; but, after a few moments of debate, he whispered to me: "Per Dios! let the old woman say what she will, Sacramenta shall have the scarlet ribands;" so saying he advanced hastily, and planted his machete by the side of the stranger's. The latter touched his hat courteously, and at Calros' request, agreed that the ribands should be the prize of him who drew the first blood. The combat began by furious thrusts on both sides, which seemed to threaten a speedy and fatal result, but the Jarochos make up by agility and rapid movements of the body what they may lack in skill of fence. In this sort of contest the point of honour is to preserve the sword-hand uninjured, a wounded hand is an indelible disgrace for the most renowned fencer; loss of life would be nothing in comparison. The stranger's hand was better protected by the scarlet ribands than by a steel guard, as Calros shrank from injuring the decoration for which he risked his life, and which he hoped to present to Sacramenta. Thus the fight went on; at length the stranger's blade whistling along that of my host, threatened his hand; a second more and Calros' wounded fingers would have let the machete fall, but he parried the stroke, which, falling on his arm, just above the wrist, drew a streak of blood. At the same instant a red stain appeared on the stranger's shoulder. Both blades were at once lowered; the combat was over ere I could decide which had been the first wounded, but the quick and practised eye of the spectators had already settled the point. The unknown made no attempt to appeal from their judgment, he detached the silken knot from the hilt of his machete, and presented it upon the point to his opponent; this was acknowledging himself conquered. This last act of courtesy won him all hearts; and, notwithstanding his defeat, he shared with his rival in the honours of victory. During the struggle Sacramenta's features had been overspread by a mortal paleness, which now, as Calros advanced and gave her the ribands he had so valiantly gained, gave place to a ruddy glow. She thanked him with a smile, and looks which showed that she valued his present as much as he did her flower of the evening before. The two combatants were now as lavish of brandy as they had been valorous, to the great contentment of the villagers, who found in copious draughts a satisfactory termination to the fandango. While thus occupied a second stranger arrived, and after exchanging a few words with the other, the two rode off together. Night fell; Calros and I were sitting talking at the door of his cabin, when the old woman again came up with a request that my host would follow her. An hour afterwards he returned, his face radiant with joy; he now knew that fervent prayers would follow hiin in his perilous enterprise : "It is hard," he said, "to leave Sacramenta after such an assurance, but I have no longer a pretext for delay, and we shall set out to-morrow." THE TRANSFER. IN the land of the East there flourished a flower, For it smiled and was glad in the sunny hour, And there came from afar to this favoured land Then an old man spoke by the stranger's side, So the wind it hath braved, and the storm defied, Then a smile broke over the youth's dark check, "Wilt thou sell me this flower, so lovely and meek, This child of the sun?" quoth he. "I have gold which would buy thee pomp and pride, Fields rich as a fairy land; If our bargain be fairly made," he cried, "Hold forward thy friendly hand." The other wept at the stranger's words, And he said, "Thou art over-bold; For this sweet flower mocks thy costly hoards, And the old man scorns thy gold." The stranger went, and another came, No kin was he to wealth or fame, The old man watched his blue eye sink, Let me feel the clasp of thy manly hand, O, the world would be blest, if it had no mart E. H. BURRINGTON. THE HIDDEN RING. BY SILVERPEN. (Continued from page 42.) Till it was far past midnight, did Absalom Podd's new guest sit before the little parlour fire, filling and refilling his smoky Churchwarden more times than I can count; but the volume of Schiller, after twice reading over the lesson of the night, lay open and uncared for on his knee, for the fire seemed to be a book with endless pages, on which his gaze was fixed, and never altered. With quite the early morrow, indeed at an hour which, considering that it was past midnight when his guest retired, astonished worthy Absalom as he meditated, about this and other things, over his pipe in the little bar, Mr. Riddle strolled from the rustic inn. As this was one of the prettiest places in the world, with old timber gables, and jutting eaves of thatch, and with a sweet bowery garden which almost rivalled that of the parsonage, no wonder that the stranger preferred to take his way along its flower-bordered walks towards the quiet fields which lay beyond. As he passed through the little wicket, on either side of which ran a long, shady, sweet- | briar hedge, he met Ruth on her way from the parsonage; so guessing from whence she came he stopped to speak to her. “Oh! dear, yes, Sir," replied the rustic beauty, as she stood with a basket on her arm like Morland's country girl, "Miss Dora will be quite ready to see you, for I've righted every thing up, as Missis bid me, and dear old master was there by four o'clock trimming the flowerborders and milking the cow, and old Northwood has been down to say, that as Leah roasts some fowls and makes a pudding to day, the dear young lady mustn't be troubled about a dinner; so you'll find her, Sir, in the curate's little book room, sitting like the biggest lady in the land." "Yes, Sir; we will talk about dear papa, it pleases me so to speak of him." "And about yourself, Dora! Now fetch your bonnet." He said this in a way which prevented further discussion, and sitting down by the little doorway, so as there to have a full view of the kitchen, he lighted up Mr. Churchwarden. Nor once, whilst Dora moved to and fro, plying the fire so as to last till her return, putting on her poor bonnet and childish tippet, did he remove his gaze, but watched her as a mariner a precious guiding star. And well he might; for his heart was true in judging Dora, a precious little human creature. Already was the rare promise of her girlish beauty a thing of talk about that solitary country side; already had her learning, and the rare pains taken in her education been talked about by rustic folks over their winter's fire; on moorland and hill, in forest and by brook, had she been seen a companion of her father; and thus with health, beauty, much knowledge, and extreme youth, and with a warm, affectionate, yet pure and guileless heart, she was one of those sweet spirits fitted by heaven to mingle with superior natures. At last she came; her rich and ebon-coloured hair tucked up beneath her humble bonnet, her rounded arms scarcely shadowed by the little tippet, a small light basket in her ungloved hand. The porch door was locked, the key hidden in its accustomed place, and Dora led the way across the plashy stepping-stones of the rapid brawling brook. They were soon amidst the wild primeval forest land of this sweet country. And in solitudes, as deep,-except here and there for a woodman busy in the bracken, or a charcoal-burner with his smouldering piles of faggots,-as if on a western prairie, or an isle of the Pacific seas. Sometimes on ferny uplands, sometimes by solitary oaks of giant growth, sometimes in deep glades as still and shadowed as a Druidical grove (though such are rare, for much of this noble land is disforested), sometimes by mountain ridges where the red sandstone yawned in picturesque declivities, and opened Nature's primal book for man to read; sometimes where earlier formations still cropped out, and showed the signs of long-passed surging oceans, monstrous and wild; sometimes by tarn and rivulet they wandered on, talking as Mr. Riddle wished the girl to talk, though not, perhaps, to that full measure which his soul required. For light of foot, revisiting her father's haunts, and enthusiastic in that which had become to her, from the long and almost daily habit of her life, a second nature, she led Mr. Riddle to some of the places amidst the wildest recesses of the forest and the hills, where Longnor's most happy researches and verifications had been made, and naturally gave their several little histories, so interesting to the earnest student. So saying, the maid of the inn dropped her profoundest curtsey, for her master had announced in the kitchen, previous to her departure to the parsonage on the over night, that the new guest was some "great gentleman;" and passed on, leaving him to the sweet peacefulness of the solitary flower-decked fields. But he, ordinarily such a reveller in, and reader of nature, was deaf to the low cadence of the wind as it lightly bent the grass and rustled the thick leaves of the bowery hedges; was deaf to the ripple of the brook as it sung its way amidst old gnarled roots and overhanging boughs; was deaf to throstles' and to blackbirds' notes, to the low call of kine upon the hills; was blind to flower and leaf, to field and wood, to earth and sky; saw nothing, heard nothing, and knew nothing, but that which lay before his rapid, eager steps. Calling back his hound, with a peremptory voice, if it chanced to go before, as if jealous that it should precede him by a hair's breadth, he gained the sylvan parsonage, and entering through its leafy porch, stood in the half kitchen, half parlour, which I have already described. Everything was still, and cool, and pleasant; the rich warm morning sun fell in strips through the ivied casement panes upon the bright red floor; and through these casements, and the open doors, the brook breeze brought the garden treasures of the honeysuckle and the rose. One glance around, on oak buffet, quaint clock, old screen, wood fire, he uncovered, and passing through the shadow of a niche-like doorway, found himself within Mr. Longnor's little study, and saw Dora seated on the wide old window-ledge. In an instant, her work had fallen on the floor, for she had been sewing, and she bounded towards her father's friend, with all the frankness with which a child seeks those it has been taught to love. But like was not met by like; so, awed by Mr. Riddle's somewhat cold and restrained greeting, Dora dropped a little curtsey, and stood down-old country church clock had struck nine, they sat down cast and abashed before him. Her guileless heart guessed not the secret and the truth; or the stern vow made over the fading embers of the rustic fire. But Hero, the hound, who had crept in unseen, taking as it were advantage of this pause, slouched forward, and was about to nestle his broad dewlap on her shoulder, when a peremptory "down sir, out sir," put an end to his kindly demonstrative intention, and he slunk back to his place in the porch quite downcast and subdued. Still more abashed, Dora was about to say something such as "good morning," instead of the impulsive, guileless, "I am so glad to see you, Sir," when Mr. Riddle said abruptly, "Come, Dora, put on your bonnet and show me the woodlands; as your father is not at home, you must be my guide, as you probably would if he were here. Come, we can talk, for I have much to ask." As the day wore on, the sun fell hot upon the forestpaths, though shadowed here and there by thick-leafed giant boughs; and as they had now walked far, since the midway in a broad old glade, yet spared from the woodman's axe, and which evidently served the purposes of a wood for the charcoal-burners' wains, or for an occasional horseman. And here they rested on as rich a carpet of flowery verdure as nature ever spread for her wearyfooted children; the richness of the golden sun crowning the dark holly-trees with glory, and the fern and harebell, the bramble and the feathery grass, timing their own faint melodies to the rich diapason of the soughing forest boughs. For a long way, till they thus sat down, Mr. Riddle had been questioning Dora about her studies, and so talking, and finding her knowledge on many things even more accurate than he anticipated, he now, as he sat, relaxed from that stern, distant manner which he had assumed; and Dora, thus won from her timidity, opened the little basket she had brought with her, and took out a small flask of cowslip-wine, which was the very smallest portion of what was held in an excessively fat bottle, placed cunningly in the closet that very morning by dear old Podd, and a slice of the nice saffron-cake Mrs. Northwood and her little Leah had concocted whilst the good old tailor had been effecting his miracle upon the curate's coat. Breaking the cake within the leaves with which she had covered it, she proffered it, and the flask, to Mr. Riddle. The first impulsive moment of his hand betrayed how readily his heart accepted the gentle offer; but the next instant he had repulsed her with a cold "not any, I thank you," which at once paralysed the gentle and affectionate nature of the girl. She dropped the flask and cake, rose quickly, and burst into tears. "I will go home, Sir, if you please; I am sorry if I have offended you; I hoped you would not recollect the difference between us; papa said, that whenever you came you would not; that you were noble and kind; that-that-Sir—Mr. Riddle—if you came you would be like an uncle or a brother towards me. I will go home, Sir-the charcoal-burners will tell you the way." "Nonsense, Dora, nonsense; come, sit down, and eat your luncheon. I want to be noble to you, Dora--noble as a god. This is why, perhaps, I am stern and cold. Now let us go back to last night's lesson-we may have to talk about this matter another day." She had crouched down again upon the grass without replying, or without looking up, for her tears were yet undried, when the approach of some one on horseback met her ear. She raised her face, and recognised in the old farmer-like rider, and his high-bred hackney, no other than Squire Fieldworth, whose letter-bag was so sedulously attended to by Miss Cadwallader, and whose coachman, Bump, angled so dexterously with jellies and cold tarts, for the hand of the spinster and the strings of her purse. The squire was riding leisurely, and having nothing to think about beyond his dinner and his rents, he scrutinized Dora with much coolness, then her companion, whose bearing and appearance greatly excited his curiosity, and when he had ridden sufficiently out of sight amidst the trees, he gave a long, low whistle, of peculiar significance, and urged his horse into a quicker pace. As this squire was at feud not simply with honest Podd, but with old Northwood, and half a dozen of the other parishioners, his only resource in the matter of satisfying his curiosity was Miss Cadwallader; and from her he learnt, not only that this stranger's name was Riddle, and that he had had letters come that morning re-directed from one of the great colleges of Cambridge, and from Broadland Hall, in an adjoining county, but also all such particulars of Mr. Longnor's departure and business, as Miss Martha had been able to ascertain through means good, bad, and indifferent. and low whistle. It meant much, and was perfectly understood by Sophia and Jane. "Of course," said Sophia, "my experience of human nature teaches me, that no good can come of this matter. And as for what any man can see in such a low-bred girl, whose father pleases her to consort with publican and tailor's wives, and a miller's daughter, I cannot think. But we shall see!" And this sotto voce parenthesis meant to convey as much as the squire's whistle. "Fie, fie," replied Anne warmly, and with much courage, considering her position in the household; "why attach evil to what can only be the purest and noblest friendship between such a child and such a man; for if you loved books, or knew anything of literature, his very name would tell you, that Mr. Riddle is incapable, both from position and character, of the evil you surmise; and if this were not even so, I believe Dora Longnor to be” "There there," interrupted the squire, "dunna have any talk about her; I hate her and her father, and as for thy quarrels, go and settle 'em in the still-room or garden; I want my nap, and that more than all the Cambridge men or parsons' daughters. So be off till teatime-though, I say, Sophy, if thee think this man be decent enough to eat off our family plate, write him a bit of an invitation, and send it by Bump to the Barley Mow, and as on course he'll be rarely glad, he'll come, and we shall see what he's made on." As the squire, before he finished this sentence, had lapsed into what might be called the first stage of his nap, and as both the elder spinsters had, for strong reasons of their own, already determined upon the simple squire's suggestion, they spitefully glanced at Anne, and withdrew, not only to write the note, and send off the note immediately by Bump (a very convenient resolution in relation to a breast of the squire's spring duck, a few peas, and a rich cheese-cake), but to concoct such a plan of proceeding as might make Miss Cadwallader loquacious, without impairing their own dignity! Thus leaving Anne to take her after-dinner's saunter up and down the broad old terrace western to the declining sun, and none the worse for judging well and rightly of the pure and beautiful, and youthful of her sex. Sweet Anne! None but the pure in heart see God! Her tears were dry, her heart was light, her foot elastic, when Dora found the key and unlocked the parsonage door; for Mr. Riddle, though still cold in manner, had been less reserved upon their homeward path, than hitherto throughout the morning. He had parted with her at the wicket, and entering the house alone, she found that the good Northwoods' little Leah had been there, had replenished the fire, had placed the savoury little dinner so beside it, that it kept hot, and had done such other little household offices as were needful. Mightily full of all this village news, the squire would So dining, Dora swung the kettle over the fire, set the probably have delivered himself of it to his two eldest hearth in order, smoothed her beautiful ebon tresses daughters the instant he arrived home, had he not smelt before the little oval mirror which hung beside the the savour of his favourite dish, and found the cloth screen, and with hands as delicate and cool as the swift already laid for dinner. As partaking of this meal was running brook could make them, she took her work-bag, the most important duty of his life, he delayed imparting and the poor bridal gown of the past marriage-day, and his own adventure, and such information as he had ob- went out and sat upon the turfed plot, so shadowed and tained from Miss Cadwallader, till his favourite pippins so still, beside the trickling brook. It was a golden and his bottle were on the table, and his three daughters evening, and the bees still searched the flowers. She had around him, the two eldest of whom were fair represen- not sat long, before Tim, whose duty it was at this time tatives of himself, and the third, some years younger of day to milk Brindle, came across the grass, bearing (though by no means very youthful, and by a second wife), a little parcel and message from honest Podd, that she was the Cinderella of the household, for the sole reason was to make some coffee for Mr. Riddle, who would be that she had fallen in love with a member of a neigh- there by seven. The clock had already struck six, so bouring family, not liked by the squire, because their she hastened to perform this new duty, and all was acres were fewer than his own. As is usual with Cin-ready on the sweet cool turf just by the stroke of seven. derellas, Anne was the bright light of the Fieldworths. The tall coffee-cups of purple hue (left by an ancient The squire having come to the end of his narrative, parishioner to Mr. Longnor), the golden-coloured cream poured out another glass of wine, and gave another long in a small jug of crystal glass, the sugar in a little silver |