They were arrayed in the extremity of the mode, with all that pedantry of dress which marks the man of questionable pretensions to style. They kept entirely by themselves, eyeing every one askance that came near them, as if measuring his claims to respectability; yet they were without conversation, except the exchange of an occasional cant phrase. They even moved artificially, for their bodies, in compliance with the caprice of the day, had been disciplined into the absence of all ease and freedom. Art had done everything to accomplish them as men of fashion, but Nature had denied them the nameless grace. They were vulgarly shaped, like men formed for the common purposes of life, and had that air of supercilious assumption which is never seen in the true gentleman.

I have been rather minute in drawing the pictures of these two families, because I considered them specimens of what is often to be met with in this country-the unpretending great and the arrogant little. I have no respect for titled rank unless it be accompanied with true nobility of soul; but I have remarked in all countries where artificial distinctions exist that the very highest classes are always the most courteous and unassuming. Those who are well assured of their own standing are least apt to trespass on that of others; whereas nothing is so offensive as the aspirings of vulgarity, which thinks to elevate itself by humiliating its neighbor.

As I have brought these families into contrast, I must notice their behavior in church. That of the nobleman's family was quiet, serious, and attentive. Not that they appeared to have any fervor of devotion, but rather a respect for sacred things and sacred places inseparable from good breeding. The others, on the contrary, were in a perpetual flutter and whisper; they betrayed a continual consciousness of finery, and a sorry ambition of being the wonders of a rural congregation.

The old gentleman was the only one really attentive to

the service. He took the whole burden of family devotion upon himself, standing bolt upright and uttering the responses with a loud voice that might be heard all over the church. It was evident that he was one of those thorough Church-and-king men who connect the idea of devotion and loyalty-who consider the Deity, somehow or other, of the government party, and religion "a very excellent sort of thing, that ought to be countenanced and kept up."

When he joined so loudly in the service, it seemed more by way of example to the lower orders, to show them that, though so great and wealthy, he was not above being religious, as I have seen a turtle-fed alderman swallow publicly a basin of charity soup, smacking his lips at every mouthful and pronouncing it "excellent food for the poor."

When the service was at an end, I was curious to witness the several exits of my groups. The young noblemen and their sisters, as the day was fine, preferred strolling home across the fields, chatting with the country-people as they went. The others departed as they came, in grand parade. Again were the equipages wheeled up to the gate. There was again the smacking of whips, the clattering of hoofs, and the glittering of harness. The horses started off almost at a bound; the villagers again hurried to right and left; the wheels threw up a cloud of dust, and the aspiring family was rapt out of sight in a whirlwind.

everend with the gloom of departed years, seemed to for the haunt of solemn meditation; but, being in a hy, aristocratic neighborhood, the glitter of fashion rated even into the sanctuary, and I felt myself conlly thrown back upon the world by the frigidity and of the poor worms around me. The only being in whole congregation who appeared thoroughly to feel Lumble and prostrate piety of a true Christian was a decrepit old woman bending under the weight of years infirmities. She bore the traces of something better nabject poverty. The lingerings of decent pride were le in her appearance. Her dress, though humble in extreme, was scrupulously clean. Some trivial respect, had been awarded her, for she did not take her seat ong the village poor, but sat alone on the steps of the ar. She seemed to have survived all love, all friendp, all society, and to have nothing left her but the pes of heaven. When I saw her feebly rising and

ing her aged form in prayer, habitually conning her ayer-book, which her palsied hand and failing eyes would permit her to read, but which she evidently knew by art, I felt persuaded that the faltering voice of that poor an arose to heaven far before the responses of the , the swell of the organ, or the chanting of the choir. i am fond of loitering about country churches, and this so delightfully situated that it frequently attracted me. stood on a knoll, round which a small stream made a entiful bend and then wound its way through a long h of soft meadow scenery. The church was surded by yew trees which seemed almost coeval with If. Its tall Gothic spire shot up lightly from among in, with rooks and crows generally wheeling about it. I

seated there one still sunny morning watching two borers who were digging a grave. They had chosen one "the most remote and neglected corners of the churchard, where, from the number of nameless graves around,

THE WIDOW AND HER SON.

Pittie olde age, within whose silver haires
Honour and reverence evermore have rain'd.
MARLOWE'S TAMBURLAINE.

THOSE who are in the habit of remarking such matters must have noticed the passive quiet of an English landscape on Sunday. The clacking of the mill, the regularly recurring stroke of the flail, the din of the blacksmith's hammer, the whistling of the ploughman, the rattling of the cart, and all other sounds of rural labor are suspended. The very farm-dogs bark less frequently, being less disturbed by passing travellers. At such times I have almost fancied the winds sunk into quiet, and that the sunny landscape, with its fresh green tints melting into blue haze, enjoyed the hallowed calm.

Sweet day, so pure, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky.

Well was it ordained that the day of devotion should be a day of rest. The holy repose which reigns over the face of Nature has its moral influence; every restless passion is charmed down, and we feel the natural religion of the soul gently springing up within us. For my part, there are feelings that visit me in a country church, amid the beautiful serenity of Nature, which I experience nowhere else; and if not a more religious, I think I am a better, man on Sunday than on any other day of the seven.

During my recent residence in the country I used frequently to attend at the old village church. Its shadowy aisles, its mouldering monuments, its dark oaken panelling,