hearing the momentous words-'You now belong to the king! But love the moon, notwithstanding: think of what I have told you, and pray dine with me again tomorrow."

At these words he playfully almost pushed me out of the room, and, as I passed the open window, called out, "If you hear any bells, though only a sheep-bell, in your way home, think of one Whittington, and that they cry,

Turn again Whittington,

Lord Mayor of London town.' "

With this prophetic distich in my ears, I certainly, at first, thought much of London town; but the dream did not last long. For though, for the first two or three hundred yards, my fancy conjured up many visions of the interesting novelties of public life, it was scarcely possible for them to continue in the pastoral village of Binfield.

The bean-flowers, that richest and sweetest of scents, which here flourished in profusion, and perhaps gave its name to the village, again perfumed the air, and filled all the senses with a soothing voluptuousness wholly incompatible with dreams of ambition. It was impossible to think of courts in such a garden.

The day, too, bad for some time sunk, and given place to what has well been called, "a universal gravity." Twilight herself seemed departing, and the gleams of her silver tints, after having lingered a minute on the higher objects, as if to claim a last farewell, dropt suddenly from the sight, and were gone almost as soon as seen.

There was a moral in this which effectually banished worldly desires; for it made me reflect how uncertain is our hold on all we may most love.

I gave way therefore to holier aspirations; and forgot Lord Castleton and his bureau in far different and higher speculations.

And now the moon had begun to array herself in melting softness. Was it possible for the mind to dwell upon artificial grandeur, or any power belonging to man, under such surpassing proofs of creative splendour in the Omnipotent ? No heart could resist its influence; and mine forgot this lower world, in thinking of his power and beneficence who dwelt

What made the scene more rich and seductive, was the gradual majestic advance of this all-diffusing orb, from faint beginnings to the wide-spreading influence of universal brightFor at first, scarce seen in the horizon, the effect upon surrounding objects was not so great, and the hemisphere remained for a while only just visible. But soon rising higher and higher, she shot forth all her glories,

ness.

"Firing the proud tops of the eastern pines."

This made me, her worshipper, bow down, senseless to any influence but her own; for while the whole vault of heaven was cloudless, every ray told upon the surrounding landscape, and I never so much felt the exact as well as sublime description of him who excelled in sublimity and exactness :—

"Now Heav'n in all her glory shone, and roll'd
Her motions as the great first mover's hand

First wheel'd her course; earth in her rich attire
Consummate, lovely smiled."

No; I could not think of Lord Castleton, fearing, if I did so, heaven and earth would rebuke me for my selfishness.

And yet with all this rapture (for it was no less) in regard to this lovely planet, I somehow or another felt a want for her. She seemed too dependent upon another, whose deputy only she was, when I would have had her a queen, with pow er self-derived. She seemed also alone, and to feel that she was so. Peerless, as she rode through the boundless ether, I wished to give her a companion. She appeared a widow, or an orphan, or both. The happiness she diffused to others seemed wanting to herself.

These thoughts possessed me so much, that I invoked the Muse upon them, and before I got to Oakingham, they had arranged themselves in some stanzas, which perhaps I might venture to record, but that long-long since they were composed, the same thought was embodied by a superior genius, whose premature and most affecting death has enhanced the interest of all her productions.* Among the sweetest of them is the sonnet I allude to, which the reader may pass over if he pleases; but if he reads it, I think he will thank me.

* L. E. L.

SONNET TO THE MOON.

The moon is sailing o'er the sky,
But lonely all, as if she pined
For something of companionship.
And felt it was in vain she shined.

Earth is her mirror, and the stars

Are as a court around her throne;
She is a beauty, and a queen,

But what of that? she is alone.

Is there not one, not one to share
Thy glorious royalty on high?
I cannot choose but pity thee,
Thou lovely orphan of the sky.

I'd rather be the meanest flow'r

That grows, my mother earth, on thee,
So there were others of my kin

To blossom, bloom, and die with me.

Earth, thou hast sorrow, grief, and death,
But with these better could I bear,
Than guide and rule yon radiant sphere,
And be a solitary there.

With such reflections as these, in which perhaps there was a tinge of melancholy, though not unpleasing, I traversed the dewy lawns and still woods (too still, for it was too late in the year for the nightingale) that lay between Binfield and Oakingham. What they wanted in melody, however, they endeavoured to make up in freshness, which was emitted from every leaf and every tuft and wild-flower which spread itself to the influence of the soft night air. The effect upon the nerves was perfect, and when I saw the lights and buildings of Oakingham, I felt displeased, for they took me back to the world.

Yet I soon remembered that for that world I was destined; and the Royal Oak, where a weekly club still lingered, after a market-day, made me forget my romance; and the bells of the church, on which the ringers, according to good old English custom, were exercising their skill, in I don't know how many bob majors, made me recollect, though without superstition, the allusion of Mr. Manners to-" Turn again, Whittington."

Having got me to bed, I gave myself up to serious reflection

on the (to me) strange events of the day;-the discovery of my relationship to Mr. Manners, acknowledged by him in so frank and flattering a manner that it was incontestable; the accomplished mind of that gentleman; his great and sudden favour towards me, and the extraordinary prospect he held forth as the possible result of it with Lord Castleton—all this made me resolve to write in detail to Fothergill, and shortly to my family. My bosom swelled with hope, and I fell into a sound and happy sleep, from which I did not wake for several hours.

The next day I executed my purpose, by giving my quondam tutor the whole history of my rencontre with his friend, and my obligations to that friendship in procuring me originally so much of his notice. I then detailed the wonder of our discoverd connection; Mr. Manners' increased kindness in consequence; and, finally, the hope he had held out of some benefit which, with his (Fothergill's) assistance, it might procure for me with Lord Castleton.

From foreseeing that I should have to break in considerably upon the plan of my pedestrian tour, I wrote also to the person who had the care of my rooms at Maudlin, to send me, per coach, a strong reinforcement to my wardrobe.

To my father I communicated the acquaintance I had made with Mr. Manners, and the curious circumstance of the relationship; but said nothing, for the present, of the prospect (distant as it was) of an introduction to Lord Castleton.

Having all these things in train, I began then to think of my engagement to return to the Grange, and once more took the road to Binfield. By way of variety, however, under my landlord's direction, I took a different course, by what is called the Forest-road, which (such is the beauty of this fairy land) was hardly less attractive than Asher's Wood itself.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE

THE DISAPPOINTMENTS IN THE FRIENDSHIPS OF A MAN OF WORLD, AS RELATED BY MR. MANNERS.-HIS ACCOUNT OF A MODERN PHARISEE, AND OF CERTAIN MODERN FEMALE CHARACTERS.-THE VISITING BOOK OF A

WHEN I first set out to re-visit the Grange, nothing promised fairer than the weather; but the gathering of summer clouds, at first fleecy and light, and emitting a few heat drops, soon thickening into dark heavy masses, and pouring down torrents, compelled me to look for shelter.

I found it in one of the pretty cottages that throng the forest, the misstres of which, a well-looking young woman, beckoned me to her door, and begged me to come in. I did so, and found an epitome of neatness and comfort which always pleases. She had two children, whose appearance, as well as her own, exhibited the same neatness. Yet she was engaged in menial offices; in fact, by the pots on the fire, preparing food for her little ones, and, as I supposed, her expected husband.

I asked if this was not the case, which brought a gloom over her countenance, when she told me she was a widow. "So young?" said I.

"Yes," she replied; and she and her babes might have sunk under it, for they had had misfortunes, and the creditors were hard with them, and all her means had failed with her husband's life. "But God," said she, "raised me up friends."