lightful to see them." The fact was, that the poor girls had at first been dazzled and bewildered. The tempters, spoilers, and tormentors of Eve's daughters had buzzed about them, whispering into their ears flattery and soft nonsense, too much of which they believed, and so began gradually to fancy that they were by no means common persons, and at last that they "knew the world" as well, if not better, than their parents. Their secret councils and castle-building anticipations of the future might have amused a stranger, but would have caused their grandmother to believe their "heads were turned." But we hasten to the result.

The town had been gradually thinning for some weeks, and the worthy rector was sitting one morning in a most unusually excited state. Before him lay numerous papers, which he took up one after another, and as the last line of each met his eye, his cheeks became inflated, and, pursing up his mouth, he blew as though he was blowing a trumpet, and, ever and anon, wiped the perspiration from his brows. The papers were tradesmen's bills, and many of a description utterly incomprehensible to him; but, there they were, commencing with his name, and by him to be paid. On summing up their whole amount he sate for awhile as if paralyzed, leaning back in his chair, with his hands in his pockets. Then he started up and paced the room, blowing as though he had got something rather too hot in his mouth. And then he fell into

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a brown study," not as to how "the ways and means were to be raised (for his savings had been accumulating for years), but to discover what benefit he or his had derived from such prodigal expenditure. The result was far from satisfactory. So, according to the example of our common forefather, he laid the greater share of the blame upon his wife, acknowledging, however, that he was an egregious noodle for listening to her.

"Could I but perceive one single advantage!" he exclaimed. "Accomplishments! nonsense! what's the use of your last quadrilles, fandangos, or whatever they call them, in the country? Had either of the girls, but-ha! humph! no chance of that."

Here a servant entered, and, presenting a card with "Mr. Thomas Morley" printed thereon, said that the gentleman was waiting.

"Shew him in," replied Mr. Padstow, and presently a remarkably fine young man, about two and twenty, made his appearance with a respectful modesty of demeanour very different from what our reverend had latterly observed in young gentlemen.

The conversation that ensued was long and very gratifying to both parties. It seemed that Mr. Thomas Morley had met and danced and conversed with Miss Catherine till, as he averred, the happiness of his future life depended upon her, and that she, after due hesitation, had on the preceding night allowed him to hope, "provided her parents, &c." Fortune he looked not for, being a partner in the house of his father, an old established merchant, of whose extensive transactions and wealth our once naval chaplain had often heard in the West Indies and elsewhere. Therefore the good man, after looking grave awhile, and observing that marriage was a serious affair, and that Catherine was almost too young to think of anything of the sort, said that he could not say any more upon the subject till he had spoken to his wife and daughter. And then he dismissed his would-be son-in-law with a cordial shake of the hand, and, for the moment, thought much more lightly of the long tradesmen's bills.

"the

While this interview was passing between the gentlemen, Mrs. Padstow was closeted with her daughters, and Catherine acknowledged but the secrets of the inner chamber must not be told at full length.— Let it suffice that enough was said to convince mamma that Mr. Morley was man;" and as he had an income of two thousand a year, which his father promised to double when he married, what could mamma object? She attempted nothing of the kind; but kissed her daughter affectionately, and hurried away to impart the good tidings to her dear Matthew.

6

"What a prospect for our child!" she exclaimed, on being informed with whom he had just parted. "Only think! four thousand a year! Why our squire, as they call him, has only three. I told you how it would be, my dear. Our girls were literally wasting their fragrance in the desert air.' Four thousand a year! Only think!" "I have been thinking," replied the reverend Matthew, “and I don't see what they can want with so much. It would only lead them into extravagant habits; and then, if they should have a familyno, no, I shall see the old gentleman and

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talk to him. A settlement for the children would be much wiser. You and I, old as we are, have made sad havoc with our little savings by this winter's follybut never mind, my life's insured, and we know our income, which men in trade do not always, however rich they may be. Besides, they are like ships on the ocean, however sea-worthy, they are liable to get among shoals and breakers." "Men in trade!" exclaimed Mrs. Padstow, "what are you talking of?" Simply that old Morley got his money by trade,” replied her spouse, "and this young fellow must get his in the same way." 66 A tradesman!" shrieked the good lady, "why Catherine assured me that he was a gentleman." "Her merchants were princes," quoted the rector. “I'm afraid the poor girl has been deceived!" sighed the mother. "Deceived!" cried his reverence, "Deceived! Nonsense! I've seen a good deal of the world, and if the young fellow is not an honest, straight-forward lad-why, I'm deceived too, and that's not likely."

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"I'm sadly afraid there's a misunderstanding somewhere," murmured the lady. Phoo, phoo!" said the gentleman, "The young folks like each other, it seems, and that's the main point. And the next is that I am to see old Morley, and I dare say we shall not disagree, as it seems that he is very anxious to see his son married." So the worthy rector went to the worthy old merchant to "talk matters over," and the anxious mother went to her daughter to reveal the source of her lover's splendid income, and, incontinently, the daughter went into something like hysterics, and when that was over, requested to be left to herself, affirming that she was dreadfully agitated, and had received a heavy blow. Then, in her own boudoir, she held a council, composed of her sister and some especially silly chosen friends of the same age, all of whom lamented exceedingly that she should have been duped into giving anything like encouragement to such a person as young Morley, and declared unanimously that it was quite impossible that she could ever marry a tradesman. And the arguments which brought them to this sapient conclusion were, "What would lord and lady so and so, and so and so, and Sir John, William, Henry, and Peter so and so, and their ladies and messieurs, mesdames, and misses so and so, and so and so, think and say?" And they VOL. X.-NO. VI.-JUNE, 1837.

named the names of persons extremely unlikely to take any interest in the question, or who, if they heard of the marriage, might, perhaps, have observed carelessly, that the parson's daughter had been very fortunate. Catherine, however, felt that it would be impossible to endure this ideal degradation, and become the object of pity and contemptuous comment; and ridiculous as her conduct may appear, it arose from the same cause, and was quite as wise as that of many older persons whom we see every day sacrificing their present comfort and future happiness under the idea that they are really objects of interest to a whirling busy world, in which their presence or absence is of about as much importance as that of a fly upon a coachwheel.

The confusion caused by her avowal was prodigious. Papa and mamma talked and argued. Young Morley sighed and looked particularly uncomfortable, and his father broke the third commandment and a wine glass.

Whether Catherine's heart had anything to do with the matter, or whether she thought of the thousands per annum, or that she reflected upon Mr. Morley's being the only direct offer she had ever had, she at length was heard to whisper, "If his father is so rich, why cannot he leave trade altogether?"

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"Humph!" said the reverend Matthew, "There is something in that." So he took his hat and stick, and went to old Morley, who, at the suggestion, “grinned horribly a ghastly smile," and said, " No, not at his age, if he were to marry a princess. An idle man's the devil's playfellow.' The fact is, I mean to retire myself, and that's why I wish him to marry."

A week after this rebuff, our little family were busily engaged in "packing up" and arranging for their return home, and all, to tell the truth, with heavy hearts. His reverence because, though he had paid the tradesmen, he could not dismiss their bills from his mind—his lady, inasmuch as she was going to take back her blooming flowers to "waste their fragrance in the desert air."—And the girls-how different was this "packing up" to go home, to their last when leaving school!

"I am so tired!" exclaimed Catherine, seating herself upon a box, "and—Oh ! how foolish it is of me! But I did not

think he would have given me up so easily. I thought he would have persevered more. But now he is gone abroad. They say for three years! So let us talk of something else. How the country-folks will stare at us at church next Sunday!"

And the countryfolks did stare both at church and elsewhere; and, at the calls and friendly parties made and got up to welcome the Rector and his family home, his daughters appeared so changed that they perfectly "astonished the natives." If not the "admired of all admirers," they were the gaped at of all gapers; and, as they talked of matters respecting which their hearers were ignorant, they carried all before them. And thus, for some weeks, all went on delightfully, and the fond mother's eye glistened at what she termed their "vivacity and perfect elegance of manners:” but, when the days of shewy triumph were at an end," weary, stale, flat and unprofitable," appeared to them the uses of the country. The fields, and woods, and valleys, and the mountain side rejoiced in their wonted summer green and glowed into the manifold tints of autumnal beauty; the country folks, who had stared, mayhap with somewhat of momentary envy, were industrious and merry as bebefore; the cordial unpretending hospitalities of the neighbourhood took their wonted course, and the worthy Rector fell in therewith as readily as the vessel from the turbulent ocean glides smoothly along the calm river; but the careless laugh and joyous welcome of his erst ever pleased and contented daughters met him not on his return home. They were changed, and wherefore? Simply because the flowers that had wasted "their fragrance in the desert air," (which "desert air," was unto them the breath of life) had been transplanted for awhile into a richer soil and warmer atmosphere, wherein, had they remained, it is possible they might have thriven; but being re-transplanted into the "desert air," they drooped and faded on the spot where they would else have grown in vigour and beauty. It was certainly bad gardening.

Now abandoning simile, your heroes and heroines of romance, and others of strong minds in real life, may be proof against all the intoxications of luxury and splendour, and may quit the charms of graceful and elegant society, and the blandishments of flattery, with a smile of serene content or contempt, according to their temperaments;

but, to the young and inexperienced, with common minds (such as these of our two young ladies and ten thousand others) the overflowing cup of pleasure creates delirium; and surely, if their station in life be such that it cannot by custom become their wholesome beverage, it were better that they knew not its flavour.

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Our space will not admit of describing at length how the Rector's daughters lost their spirits, became ennuyées, slighted former acquaintance, criticised their neighbours, and at last took to the weak mind's refuge of gossiping." Somewhat of a change, however, took place in Catherine's demeanour after the expiration of three years, when she often looked mysterious, and would suddenly quit the room whenever the walking postman made his appearance. But, whatever were her dreams, they were terminated by a newspaper announcement of the marriage of Thomas Morley, Esq., to Anna, only daughter of Sir Henry Bart.; the said Sir Henry being one of the number whose anticipated sayings and thoughts had influenced her now lamented decision.

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What or how "offers" the poor many girls had after this period is immaterial, as they remained unmarried, and, sooth to say, no great favourites in their united circle, inasmuch as, by a strange infatuation, they always contrived to introduce long thrice-told tales about great people whom they had met in town, &c. &c. So time went on till they had attained certain age," when it was whispered that Miss Catherine looked, with a favourable eye, upon a certain fox-hunting yeoman, celebrated more for his rude hospitality than polished manners. But, after leaving the rectory one night, he was heard, on his way home, singing an old song, one line of which was,

a

"The wife for my money must make a good pudding,"

and no more was said about the matter.

The worthy Rector and his lady lived to a good old age, but, by a sort of tacit agreement, never spoke of their winter in London; and so careful were they lest their son Matthew should lose his native relish for "desert air," that they would not trust him at Oxford or Cambridge, but sent him to St. Bees. Some, however, have surmised that their choice of that college was decided upon in consequence of the long tradesmen's bills of which we have had occasion to make mention.

WHETHER the Ha Ro began through Rollo's own appointment, or took its rise among the people from an awful reverence of him for his justice, cannot be determined; but so it is, that a law was made in his time, that in case of encroachment, or invasion of property, or of any other oppression or violence requiring an instant remedy, the aggrieved party had only to call upon the name of the Duke, however distant, thrice repeating "Ha Ro!" and immediately the aggressor was at his peril to forbear any thing farther. This is that famous "Clameur de Haro!" subsisting in practice when Rollo was no more, which has been so highly praised by all who have written on the Norman law. A remarkable instance of its power was seen about 170 years after his death, at William the Conqueror's funeral, when in confidence thereof a private man and a subject dared oppose the burying of his body. It seems that, in order to build the great abbey of St. Stephen, at Caen, where he intended to lie after his decease, the Conqueror had caused several houses to be pulled down to enlarge the area, and, amongst others, one whose owner had received no satisfaction for his loss. The son of that person, observing the grave to be dug on the very spot of ground which had been the site of his father's house, went boldly into the assembly, and in the name of Rollo forbade

them to bury the body there. Paulus Emylius, who relates the story, says he addressed the company in these words :— "He, who oppressed kingdoms by his arms, has been my oppressor also, and has kept me under a continual fear of death. Since I have outlived him, who injured me, I mean not to acquit him now he is dead. The ground, wherein you are going to lay this man, is mine, and I affirm that none may in justice bury their dead in ground which belongs to another. If, after he is gone, force and violence are used to detain my right from me, I appeal to Rollo, the father and founder of our nation, who, though dead, lives in his laws. I take refuge in those laws, owning no authority above them." This brave speech, spoken in the presence of the deceased king's son, Prince Henry, afterwards Hen. I., wrought its effect; the Ha Ro was respected, the man was compensated for his wrongs, and the body of the deceased king was committed in peace to the grave.”

The phrase, “ Ha Ro," is thus explained by Stead, from whom the above account is taken.

Ha, or Ah, is the exclamation of a person suffering; Ro is the Duke's name abbreviated; so that Ha Ro is as much as to say, "O Rollo, my prince, succour me!" In Stead's time the custom still prevailed in the island of Jersey, and the cry was, "Ha Ro! à l'aide, mon Prince!"