SIR RALPH ELMWOOD was an old English gentleman of Berkshire, who prided himself on having been able to withstand matrimony against the assaults of all the county maidens in his younger days; then, of all the dowagers, dowered and undowered spinsters, in his middle age, and, finally, of a handsome housekeeper in his sexagenarianism; on his judgment in horses, and on his performances in the saddle. He had no other pride, though he might have had, for he was rich in many things on which the world piques itself.

His only brother had long held a government post in India, where, having married one of those courageous young ladies who occasionally go to the East on matrimonial ventures, he fell a victim to the climate, leaving an only

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child, a boy of thirteen, and a widow of-but no matter -she speedily consoled herself with a second husband, and consoled her second husband with the enjoyment of her annuity of six hundred a year.

Sir Ralph no sooner heard of his brother's demise, than he despatched the following characteristic letter to the supposed widow :

"Dear Neville's Widow,

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Elmton, May 23rd, 17—.

"I am grieved to hear that rascally climate has deprived me of my only brother-I always predicted it would be so. It is my wish, that my nephew and you (if you are so disposed) should immediately return to England, and install yourselves at Elmton, without let, hinderance, or delay. I don't want any more blood of mine to be boiled away in Hindostan. If, however, you mean to try your luck again, by all means stay-England has a greater stock of your sex, than she can find customers for; but the lad-Neville, I think, he is called, though he ought to have been Ralph -send him by the next packet.

"Your late husband's affectionate brother,
"RALPH ELMWOOD."

"Watkin," said Sir Ralph to his old coachman, about a year after despatching this very frank epistle, "you must go up to London by the Highflyer, on Monday, to meet my nephew from Calcutta."

"If it's Mr. Neville's son, your honour, let me go all the way, and take the landau; the horses want work just now; and I shouldn't mind a matter of twenty miles or so to 'comm'date a son of Mr. Neville's. How far is Calcutta from Greenwich, your honour ?"

sir."

"Just twenty-”

"Then let me take Roger and the chesnut all the way,

"Twenty thousand miles, I was going to say; you geographical blockhead!"

"Beg pardon, Sir Ralph, but I took Mr. Neville to Greenwich when he went to foreign parts, and should have gone with him to Gravesend, but for old Fireway falling ill. I thought foreign parts was but a trifle farther!"

"It's of no use trying to give you ideas of anything beyond your whip's end, Watkin, or I should say Calcutta is in India, and India, some sixteen thousand miles beyond the sea. My nephew will land in London on the 17th; all you have to do is, to meet him at the East India Docks, and post down here with him, as soon as you find him."

On the Wednesday following this conversation, old Watkin arrived at the Hall with his charge.

I said Sir Ralph was a bachelor. He was, however, anxious that the family honours and estates should fall to a successor worthy of the Elmwoods, when called on to surrender them. He had been in bed some hours when Watkin arrived with the youth, but had ordered his valet (if his body-guard deserved that appellation) to awake him immediately, should his nephew arrive in the night.

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Why, what on earth have you brought, Watkin?" cried the Baronet, on the first sight of the lanky, copperskinned youth, who sat shivering at the fire in the steward's room, with two great coats on, though it was August, and a night of unusual closeness. "He an Elmwood! me look at your fist, young olive merchant."

Let

The boy tremblingly held out his attenuated hand.

"Oh-ay-I see it bears the family brand, the crooked little finger; but did you ever meet with a hurt here?" said he, roughly pressing the stiff joint.

"Not before," said Neville, trying to withdraw his hand; "it always was so."

"True, true," said Sir Ralph, whose asperity was somewhat softened by the boy's reply; and, turning the examination into a kind shake of the hand, added—" you're an undoubted Elmwood. Get him to bed, Selby; daylight may enable me to judge better."

The Vicar, who resided a short distance from the Hall, was sent for, to an early breakfast.

He found the Baronet kicking the dogs out of the breakfast-room, a sure sign that something was wrong, as the canine privileges, though unusually extensive, were never, but at such times, invaded.

"I've received a brown paper parcel from India, Mr. Leybourne; I want you to give me your opinion of the contents; it is already unpacked-here it is," added he, as the door opened, and the butler entered, ushering in a youth, whose every feature bespoke debility. His eye, dark, lustrous, and fringed with beautiful lashes, seemed to derive additional expression from the yellow frame in which it was set. He was evidently delicate. "My nephew, Neville Elmwood, Mr. Leybourne," said Sir Ralph, as the youth crossed to the fireplace, in which, alas! he found no fire-"how have you slept, lad?"

"Better than on shipboard, sir," replied Neville; "but I have not felt so warm."

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Warm! you've been too warm all your life, sir, or

you never would have been so charred," said the Baronet. The term was luckily lost on Neville. "Take this cold chicken, and wash it down with some cocoa or coffee; your father and mother must have forgotten English fare, or you wouldn't look so sickly."

"I was always delicate," replied the poor youth, "and in India always delicately treated," and the tears swelled in his brilliant eyes.

"No doubt of that," replied his uncle, somewhat sternly.

"Now what am I to do with this over-baked booby, Leybourne ?" said Sir Ralph, when the youth had left the room. "I assure you I have not closed my eyes since he arrived, from the thought that my estates must come to such a representative of the steel-clad knights and baronets in the old church; but no-I need have no such fears; he will soon sleep with them, Leybourne, and I was a fool for not marrying Mary Clare."

"You are too hard upon the poor youth," said the Vicar; "the change of climate, a long voyage, and a weak state of health, may account for his looks. if he be one of your family stock-"

Trust me,

"I'm sure of that, by his crooked joint, Leybourne." "Then don't doubt he will make a man, Sir Ralphin my opinion, a fine one. He must undergo a course of training; your colt that won the Derby looked quite as unpromising "

"True, true," said Sir Ralph; "and now you have the reason why I sent for you; will you be his trainer?"

"With pleasure, provided I may adopt my own plans," replied the Vicar, whose kind heart felt an interest