TO CORRESPONDENTS. G. M. F. GLENNY (Brompton).-Your suggestion would have been before adopted, but the want of space precluded us from attempting it. You will see, however, that in the present number we have contrived to make room for the pastime. Accept our thanks for your approval and support of our labours. W. J. P.-Something very similar to your article on "Great Tom of Oxford," has very recently appeared in some of our contemporaries, in connection with "Big Ben" of Westminster. We are gratified by your favourable opinion. E. T. WATTSON." Harvest Home would require alteration and considerable retrenchment to suit our pages. It will be seen that we have little room to spare for long tales. It lies at the office with our thanks. T. A.-It was Rousseau who predicted that "The empire of Russia will endeavour to subjugate Europe, but in the struggle will herself be conquered. Her Tartar subjects or her neighbours will become her masters." ANTIQUARY. The price paid by Mr. Rooney for the original edition of "Hamlet"-sold to Messrs. Boone for £70, and re-sold by them to Mr. Halliwell for £120-was 1s. The person from whom Mr. Rooney bought it paid 4d. for it. Thanks for your good wishes. A YOUTH.-Be not ashamed of an humble parentage, or an humble occupation; be not ashamed of poverty, or even of a small amount of natural endowments, lest you should thereby reproach the King of kings; but be ashamed of mispent time and misdirected talents. Be always ashamed of vice. A wicked man cannot be truly brave or noble. J. DAVIES.-We differ from you, we think that the origin of wealth is in a moral feeling-selfdenial." Here is something I will not consume or throw away-I will take care of it, store it up. for the future use of myself or others." The man who first said and acted thus, laid the foundation stone of a virtue upon earth. The savings of each man are a diffusive blessing to all, and therefore, in so far frugality is a thing which all may and ought to applaud. We will attend to your suggestion. KENNETH. We think the evil capable of reformation, particularly as you are yet young. Excessive labour, exposure to wet and cold, deprivation of sufficient quantities of necessary and wholesome food, habitual bad lodging, sloth, and intemperance, are all deadly enemies to human life; but they are none of them so bad as violent and ungoverned passions. Men and women have survived all these, and at last reached extreme old age; but it may be safely, doubted whether a single instance can be found of a man of violent and irascible temper, habitually subject to storms of ungovernable passion, who has arrived at a very advanced period of life. R. S.-It is decidedly injurious. Mr. Solly, the eminent writer on the brain, says, in a late clinical lecture on that frightful malady, softening of the brain," I would caution you as students from the use of tobacco and smoking, and I would advise you to disabuse your patients' minds of the idea that it is harmless. I have had a large experience of brain disease, and I am satisfied now that smoking is a most noxious habit. I know of no other one cause or agent that so much tends to bring on functional disease, and through this, in the end, to lead to organic disease of the brain, as excessive use of tobacco." REBECCA. We cannot say, but if we are to believe tradition, it insists that corsets were invented by a cruel butcher of the thirteenth century, as a punishment for his wife. She was very loquacious, and finding nothing would cure her, he put a pair of stays on her, in order to take away her breath, and so prevent her from talking. This cruel punishment was inflicted by other heartless husbands, till at last there was scarcely a wife in all London who was not condemned to the like infliction. The punishment became so universal at last, that the ladies, in their defence, made a fashion of it, and so it has continued to the present day. We thank you for your good wishes. FAMILY FASTIME [As we intend devoting a portion of our space to this kind of innocent and intellectual entertainment, contributions from our numerous subscribers towards it, are solicited. Ed. F. M.] 1. Pronounced with one letter though written with three, I am. Well, and where am I seen? The miles that I travel there's no one can tell, For I rise with the lark, and produce in the end One more clue and I've done with the subject-'tis this; If through life you would wish to succeed, Take a lesson from me and you'll not do amiss, For I'm very successful indeed. A. G. B.-To attain to excellence, even in penmanship, requires great labour, but to compose requires infinitely greater. The poetlaureate is forty-five; the editor of Punch, ditto; Thackeray is forty-four: and Dickens forty-three. Mr. Macaulay has reached the graver age of fifty-five; Bulwer Lytton and Douglas Jerrold, nifty. J. S. (Edinburgh).-The pavement of London is one of the greatest marvels of our time. It covers nearly 3,000 acres, two-thirds whereof consist of what may be called mosaic work, done in plain style, and the other third smooth flagging. Such a series of works far transcends in quantity, as it excels in quality, the Appian way, which was the wonder of ancient Rome, and which would cut but a poor figure as contrasted with one of our commonest streets. The ancient consular way was but 15 feet wide in the main, and was filled in with blocks of all shapes and sizes, jointed together and planed only on the surface; the length of its devious course, from north to south of Italy, was under 300 miles. The paved streets of London number over 5,000, and exceed 2,000 miles in length! ASTRONOMER.-It is quite true that all scientific men have maintained that there must be a central point, if not a central sun, around which the whole universe revolves. Maedler, who is, unquestionably, one of the greatest astronomers ever known, has given the subject his special attention; and he has come to the conclusion that Alcyone, the principal star in the group known as Pleiades, now occupies the centre of gravity, and is at present the grand central sun around which the whole starry universe revolves. This is one of the most interesting and important astronomical announcements ever made.. D. R. We think with you, that there is a tendency, although a bad one, often to nickname people. For example; the following was taken from a private letter from the seat of war; "Lord Raglan is nick-named in the Crimea, Jack Rag; Canrobert, Robert Cant, because he can't take Sebastopol; Lord Cardigan, Old Charge-again; Lord Lucan, Old Look on; General Scarlett, Blood and Ouns, because of his name, and from his being always in the thick of the fight. The Russians are usually called Johnny Ruskies; but when they fight with unusual obstinacy they are called Johnny Rusties." R. EDGAR.-All educated persons are mostly aware that lunar eclipses are caused by the moon passing through the earth's conical shadow, or by the shadow of the earth falling upon the moon; and that they are visible in all parts of the world which have, the moon above their horizon; and are everywhere of the same magnitude, with the same beginning and end. If the earth had no atmosphere, the moon would be as invisible in total eclipses as she is when new. The cause of her being visible and of the copper coloured glow is thus explained:-The rays of the sun, on entering our atmosphere, are bent inwards from their original course; and they again undergo an equal deviation, in the same direction, when leaving it; the amount of the first refraction being thus doubled, the rays are enabled to enter the earth's shadow and fall upon the moon; the invisible vapour in the lower strata of our atmosphere imparting to them the ruddy hue of sunset. Should, however, a belt of clouds of from 30 to 60 degrees in breadth surround that great circle of the earth in which at the moment the sun is seen in the horizon, or 90 degrees from where the moon is vertical, little or no refracted light may reach the moon; and she may be for the time completely obliterated, as in the eclipses of June 5th, 1620, and April 25th, 1642. A CORRESPONDENT sends the following,Why are sporting characters to be compared to a drove of sheep?-Because they live on the turf, they feed on the green blade, they have blacklegs amongst them, even their young ones gambol, and they are sure to be fleeced at last. D. B. Published at the Office of the "FAMILY MIRROR," No. 9, Johnson's Court, Fleet Street, where all communications for the Editor are to be addressed. Dec. 19th, 1856. NOW DORRINGTON AINSLIE. BY JOHN SHERER. CHAP. IX.-POACHING AND GAME. TOW, that their captive was safely deposited within the gloomy walls of the prison of Brindleton, the victorious party resolved, as it lay in their way, to visit the "Goose and Goslings," kept by Catherine Pratt, or Kitty Goose, as she was vulgarly called, that they might gather intelligence regarding the individual they had captured. Accordingly, they entered that humble hostelrie, and found its large kitchen, which served for the purposes of a tap-room and a parlour as well, unoccupied by a single customer. Catherine was in another part of the house, when she heard the patter of their feet entering upon the orick floor of her dwelling; and, hastening to see who it was, and enlivened with the prospect of gain, she was slightly discon VOL. I. certed when she beheld four men, and one of them no other than Jack Robinson the constable. A thought flashed across her mind that something was wrong, notwithstanding which she assumed a gaiety of manner, and an innocence of expression, so striking to Joseph, that he afterwards irreverently declared that, "the besom looked as if butter wad na melt in her mouth," thereby meaning that she seemed the very embodiment of sentimental purity. "Well! Mrs. Pratt, how are you?" said Robinson, as she entered the apartment, whilst the whole party were standing in the middle of the floor, and evincing no disposition to sit and order anything to help out the prosperity of the house. When the compliment respecting her health had been acknowledged with a smile, and an expression of thanks, the same official querist asked if she had had any company during the afternoon? "Indeed, very little company of any kind have I had within the door of my house this day, Mr. Robinson," re.. turned the female genius, who presided over the dispensation of the strong waters in the "Goose and Goslings." "Bethink ye a moment, Mrs. Pratt," said Robinson, "and see if ye can't mind the characters of some of the customers ye have had here to-day." "Indeed! it's no' very difficult to do that. Let me see; there was first George Rickard, o' Ryegate, and Thomas Pemberton; then neighbour Basil and his son; but they're too well known to be the persons that you're seeking; and then there was a woman and a man; decent people, but I don't know who they are; and then;-Jane!" she shouted at the top of her voice, to some Hebe that responded from a far-away distance, "was there three or four of the Roughs' that came in about six o'clock?" "Three-e-e," returned Jane, with a prolonged twang, that would have forcibly reminded a Londoner, had he been present, of the mode which some of the street-vendors in his native city, adopt in announcing, to watchful householders, the wares they have to sell. "Ay? so it was," continued Mrs. Pratt, as if collecting herself, "there were three big and brawny fellows that I never saw before, came in about six o'clock, and took away with them a seafaring lodger, that we have had staying with us since yesterday." "Who is he?" asked Robinson, "I know nothing about him; but he says his name is Daggs, and that he has business at Willowbranch with Mr. Ilbert, and is going there to-morrow to see him." "Well!" interposed Joseph, "ye need na expect him the night, for he's placed himsel' in such a position as will secure him an interview wi' the justice without much trouble to himsel'." "Has he been fighting?" inquired Mrs, Pratt. spoil the nets. There's no gettin' 'em out, when they get into 'em, for they're stronger and pricklier than any kind o' briers or thorns. In Nottinghamshire they even bush their turnip fields, and I have seen pastures stuck wi' ould sickles, ground sharp and bent downwards to prevent injury to the cattle, and the handle druv into the ground, in such a way as to make the point o' the blade catch the net, when they are drawing it, and tear it from top to bottom." "That's a costly preventative," said Otterwell. "And so it is," returned Lawrence, "therefore it's not often done; but I have seen it for all that." The conversation now diverged into the modes adopted by poachers to entrap their game, particularly pheasants, in the preservation of which some English sporting gentlemen take quite an enthusiastic interest. "There is nothing more easy in the world," said Lawrence, "than to rear a large stock of pheasants, but nothing is more difficult than to fix 'em, and no bird is so easily poached both by day and night.' "That's true," said Joseph, "and mair than that, there is no bird whose haunt is more easily known than a pheasant's, so that a skilfu' poacher only requires twa hours without molestation, to clear a whole plantation o' them." "Yes," said Lawrence, " that they'll do by what is called among the craft 'hingling." "Hingling," responded Otterwell; "that's a new word, I suppose?" "O, no!" said Lawrence, "it's as common among them as suet in pudding." "Ay! Lawrence ye're aye after the puddens," interposed Joseph, with a laugh. "And ye're as often after the porridge," retorted Lawrence, who, nothing disconcerted, entered into a description of the Otter-poaching operation of "hingling" with a warmth and volubility particularly edifying to the uninformed mind of Mr. Otterwell, "Well, he seems to be a misguided, outrageous sort of a man, for I'm sure, last night, you would have thought there was a bull-baiting going on here, he kept the house in such an uproar, with some more riff-raff, that were little better than himself," said Mrs. Pratt, and as the party had got all the information they could, for the landlady was unacquainted with every one that entered her dwelling, but such as were known to be respectable, they departed without having troubled her to draw anything at the bar." Bidding good night to Robinson, and advising him to look well to his prisoner till Tuesday, which was the day on which he would be brought before the justice, Otterwell, Joseph, and the keeper pursued their way towards Willowbranch, dilating on the great event in which they had so recently been engaged. Joseph declared that his head was "bumming like the drone of a Highlandman's bagpipe," from the blow which the poacher had dealt him, whilst Otterwell could only complain of a rent in the knee of his new trousers, in which his nether man had, for the first time, been invested that very day. "It's providential that matters are not a great deal worse," said Lawrence, for it is very seldom that these night prowlers are not armed with more weapons than one, in following their unlawful game." "And so it is;" coincided Otterwell, "but I dare say they were no strangers to the ground, and thought the coast was clear." "Indeed, I don't think after a'," observed Joseph," that they're the downright desperadoes that we took them for; or they wud ha'e been better prepared to defend themselves in case o' an interruption to their sport." "That is my opinion also," said Lawrence, who entered into a lengthy description of the various arts of the poaching depredator, not only in the pursuit of his game, but in the divers artifices he adopts to throw the keepers off the scent as to his proceedings. "Bushing the fields," he continued, "is as good a plan as any that I know of to prevent their being netted, and the best sort of bushes are old stunted tops of the hedges of the blackthorn. These are the fellows to "Three or four men, sir," said he, "will, in a very short time, set a couple of hundreds of snares at the end of a plantation in which they know there is a proportionate number of birds; then they will go to the other end of the cover, and walk gently through it at regular distances, requiring no dogs, but driving the game themselves only by making a slight noise, by the breaking of rotten branches, and rustling with their feet. By the time they have gotten to the end of the cover, where their snares are set, they have nothing to do but to remove them, fill their sacks with the pheasants, and get away as fast as they can. Nay, I have known them have a little spring cart, with a smart pony, to put them in, and drive off as if they had been doing the most honest action in the world, or removing only a sackful of their own property." "It's dangerous work," said Joseph, "sir, wi' the game laws hanging o'er your head, and the prospect o' banishment to a penal settlement afore your c'en. But poachers are fit for ony desperate adventure in the way o' their trade, and the pheasant's food, in the shape o' white peas, boiled potatoes, buck wheat, damaged raisins, and other things, that are laid to keep them, in many instances, serve the purposes of the poacher far more than they do those of the owner of the preserves." "I have known that to be the case," remarked Lawrence. "Nae doubt o' that," returned Joseph, "ye have na been a keeper a' your days, Lawrence, or ye wadna be up to sac mony nibs as ye are." Before Lawrence could reply to this sarcasm, they found themselves at the gateway which opened into the avenues that led to Willowbranch; and as Joseph declared he “ was ower late out on a Sabbath night," he hastily shook hands with Otterwell, and observed, "the gamekeeper would see him safe to Marigold Cottage." "Yes, yes," said Lawrence, "I'll escort him that length, as I must be out till the break of day, at any rate, going over the grounds." "Ay, and if ye should fa' in wi' that big fellow that ga'e me the crack on the head, maybe twa or three draps o'sma' shot would do him no great harm, and might keep him frae running awa' so fast, the next time we meet, when he's poaching," advised Joseph, as he was retreating up the dark avenue of elms, where he was soon lost to the view of his friends. Following that worthy towards his abode, we must observe that it would require all the powers of analysis possessed by the profoundest metaphysician, of which this country can boast, to unravel the tangled web of emotions which the adventures of this misspent day had woven in his breast. How infinitely happier would he have been now in his own mind, had he, in the morning of this sacred day, flung his prejudices to the wind, and, where there was no presbyterian church, have gone and listened to the episcopalian service, in place of resorting to the public-house. What strange inconsistencies we are! Joseph belonged to the reflective class of men; and now that he was pursuing his way homewards in silence, alone, and under the shadow of the wide spreading trees, amongst the leaves of which the gentle winds whispered their melodies over his head, his mind reviewed with a strong feeling of regret, the manner in which he had so inconsiderately spent the greater part of the day. We believe, to all men whose minds have a moral, not to speak of a religious, tone, such feelings, at a certain period of their existence, are natural; that, however, thoughtless and light hearted they may seem, and actually may be, during the time they are devoting themselves to pleasurable dissipation, when it is passed they remember it with pain rather than with satisfaction. At any rate, we should think this was invariably the case with those who have a proper sense of the high responsibility of man, and to those who have not, it is perhaps mourned by many philanthropists that the progress of civilization has invented such a numerous assemblage of arts as lead into temptation, rather than to such objects as direct the thoughts into higher channels, and suggest the contemplation of such things as have the stamp of eternity impressed upon them. When Joseph arrived at the mansion of Willowbranch, he found it shrouded in darkness. The watch dogs, knowing him, did not bark, and peeping through a crevice between the foldings of the kitchen shutters, he beheld Lucy, one of the servants, still up, with her Bible open and lying before her. The quietness of the scene, the solemnity of the hour, the solitude of the girl, and the exercise in which she was engaged, struck a pang of remorse to the heart of Joseph, and he involuntarily hove a sigh as he contrasted the occupation of her spare time with the manner in which he had been occupying his own. "What have I done of good this day?" he said to himself in an audible whisper as he turned from the window, "I have drunk to drunkenness, argued in folly, fought in wickedness, and pursued the road that leads to ruin and the abyss of misery, in all of which I have acted contrary to the counsels of my worthy father, as weel as to the rational suggestings o' my own mind. I maun mend." This speech was succeeded by a few moments of deep reflection, when he again turned to the window, and whispered Lucy to let him in. That good girl answered immediately, and in less than five minutes Joseph was seated before the fire, comfortably regaling himself with a solid cut of cold roast beef, and a jug of home brewed ale, and at the same time detailing to Lucy the particulars of the poaching adventure in which he had been engaged. "I think you might have been better employed," said Lucy, when she heard the conclusion of his story. Ay, it may be so; but the maister wad ha'e lost his game," observed Joseph. Indeed, the maister will no be much the richer of all that you have saved him, in a business of that kind," said Lucy. Maybe no; but he must tak' the will for the deed. I did the best I could," replied Joseph. "And the best was bad on a Sunday night," returned Lucy, who by this time had lighted another candle, and bidding him "good night," retired to her chamber. Joseph almost immediately followed her example, and in a few minutes more, was sound asleep in his own dormitory. CHAPTER X. THE WALK TO TREADUNDER CASTLE. The sphere in which every man moves is the extent of the world which is peculiar to himself, when the mind takes no ranges beyond the objects which come within the immediate power of its senses. The world in which Dorrington had been reared was one of singular grace and beauty. His foster parents, although not what we would consider, in this country, strict religionists, were still so thoroughly imbued with pious sentiments, and their whole deportment, marked by such real and unaffected goodness, that no one could frequently come within the atmosphere of their dwelling, without being sensibly touched by the excellence of its occupants. No sudden and thoughtless exemplifications of passion were there to be found; no sneering speeches, indicative of a heart embittered with the gall of envy or disappointment; no detraction; no malice; no uncharitableness. If any mishap had occurred to any of the numerous circle with whom they were acquainted, palliative sentiments were uttered, or if the affair was such as could not bear palliation, a total silence upon it was adopted, or mayhap a confident, yet sorrowful belief expressed that the circumstances were exaggerated beyond what the reality could possibly be. This admirable disposition and conduct endeared them to every body, so that they had not an enemy on the island, except perhaps amongst those who were envious of hearing their praise, and would have ostracised them, as the Athenians did Aristides, because they were weary of hearing him called the Just! As example is by far a better instructor than precept, the example which he had had continually before his eyes, had produced a corresponding impression upon Dorrington, whose mind had, from his earliest years, assimilated itself to the excellence with which it was its fortune to be associated. His English education, too, had tended greatly to exalt the benevolence of his natural disposition. Whilst pursuing his classical studies, at the parsonage of Fairchurch, on the beautiful banks of the Tamar, he was safe from the reach of vulgar or immoral speech, so that he had been nurtured amid domestic advantages, which rarely fall within the lot of those who are born to earn their bread by the sweat of their brow, or to push their fortunes, amid the tortuous windings which the enlarging passions of this world's steam-driving humanity, are daily complicating more and more. When we last parted with him, we left him enjoying a quiet cup of tea, previous to his retiring to rest, which he shortly afterwards did, and sleeping pretty well, and without being visited by a single apparition in the dreary sounding tenement, he rose early next morning, like a lion refreshed from his slumber. Carefully going through all the requirements of his toilette, he passed along the wide and dingy corridor which led to his sitting-room, which he found duly dusted and put in order, with a fire blazing in the grate, all of which rather favourably impressed him than otherwise, with the matitudinal arrangements in the Black Bull. Having discussed his breakfast, during which he took an opportunity of quietly twitting Reuben upon the nature of the direction which he gave him to Willowbranch, he sat down with the intention of enjoying an hour's reading, before the expected arrival of Mr. Otterwell. The Naturalist, however, had, with other qualifications necessary to pursue his studies with success, trained himself to early-rising, and was already on his way to fulfil his engagement with Dorrington. It was not long, therefore, before his voice was heard down stairs at the bar, singing in an audible tone and to a lively tune, the following lines which he had learned from "The Poet of Nature," who was indebted for them again to Vin cent Bourne, a bard, whose muse has long ago passed out of that the existence of an idle gentleman was accompanied fashion. "Beneath the hedge, or near the stream, A worm is known to stray; That shows by night a lucid beam, "Disputes have been, and still prevail, From whence its rays proceed; Some give that honour to his tail, And others to his head." "Good morning, Mr. Purdie," he shouted, after he had finished his lay, "do you know that beautiful ditty?" "No," said Purdie, "but I know what it sings about." "Ay, and so do I; the glowworm," cried Otterwell. Did you get any last night?" 66 Ay, that we did; such a set of glowworms as I hope never to meet with again," and here he entered Mr. Purdie's back parlour, which opened into the bar, and detailed the whole story of his adventure with the poachers. After this, he inquired the name of the gentleman up stairs; and, as Reuben was generally present, if not otherwise engaged, he interposed and said, "that Ainslie, D. Auslie was on the brass plate on his mantel-meaning portmanteau-and that he was a gentleman of great property, come to court Miss Ilbert, at Willowbranch." "You don't say so," exclaimed the Naturalist, filled with astonishment. "A fact!" said Reuben, "and he went to see her yezterday evening, a-most as soon as he came off the coach. But I reckon he was disappointed, for he has not spoken twenty words since." "Poor fellow," sympathised the Naturalist, and added, “he seems a very gentlemanly young man." "O yes," said Reuben, "but he drinks nothing, neither wine nor brandy to do him good, and cheer up his heart, so as to make it able to bear the crosses and queer turns that rich vemales are sure to give them that runs arter them." "He is perhaps in delicate health," suggested Mr. Otterwell. "Ill health!" exclaimed Reuben, "not a bit of it; he's as hearty as any man I ever saw for his size, and to be a gentleman, he knows as well as any working man, the best kind o' vood to thrive on." "Well, I will go and see him," said Otterwell, and pro- | ceeded forthwith up stairs. We gave a general description of the appearance of Mr. Otterwell, when he was first discovered by Dorrington, hunting the field-mouse, in the pastures between Boxingwood and Willowbranch, but of his position in the social scale of his neighbours, and the occupation which enabled him to amass a comfortable competence, before he had quite turned the age of fifty, it will be necessary to say a little for the further enlightenment of the reader. This individual was a bachelor, and had been originally a small tradesman in Plymouth, where, by care and industry, he gradually rose to the dignity of a timber merchant, and made so much wealth, that he was enabled recently to retire from business, and purchase a sweet little property in the neighbourhood of Boxingwood. The house which he occupied was not very large, and its inmates consisted of a maiden sister turned forty, and a niece of twenty, who united to her youth a large share of that healthy, blooming kind of beauty, and that vigorous species of cheerfulness which it is the happiness of many of the Devonian ladies to enjoy. To wait upon these, and perform the usual duties of the house, there were a couple of female servants, both of whom also rejoiced in the possession of cheeks surpassing the colour of the red-streak apples, so plentiful in their native orchards, and so much prized for the quantity of juice which is annually expressed from them, for the manufacture of cider. In this unpretending style Mr. Otterwell settled down at about a couple of miles from Willowbranch, but as he had passed a life of industry and activity, he soon began to feel with very few of those sweets with which the imagination of the tradesman or merchant is so apt to surround it, when he is poring over the perplexing indications of his ledger. Accordingly, after the novelty of his new position had worn off, he was seized with a fit of ennui, which would infallibly have ended with the breaking up of his country retreat, had he not found a refuge from his misery in the study of natural history. This was a happy event for his sister and his niece, as their home became proportionably comfortable as the Naturalist got deeper immersed in his hobby, and more ardent in the pursuit of objects calculated to unfold to his admiring mind, the mass of wonders with which the hand of the Creator had stored the air, the earth, and the living waters. As all lovers of nature have a similar affection for personal freedom, Mr. Otterwell sought for no company amongst the wealthier classes of the neighbourhood, whose mode of life he did not much admire, and whose conventionalties seemed to him so much squared by rule, that they appeared nothing less than a kind of self-imposed slavery. Accordingly, he was taken little notice of in the neighbourhood by that sort; but with head-gardeners, head-keepers, farmers, and sportsmen, who brought him specimens of every description from the great arsenal of nature, he kept up a kind of intimacy, which, in one or two instances, had degenerated to an extent such as to injure his reputation amongst the more staid and church-going classes of the community. Being rich, however, and capable of occasional acts of generosity, he always commanded a certain degree of respect, whilst his happy temperament was such as enabled him to take no offence at any freedoms of speech which those of a humbler position than his own might sometimes use towards him. Indeed, the genial ardour of his disposition in the pursuit of his studies, had so increased, that he had nearly wholly laid aside his self-esteem, and would rather trudge along the highway with a molecatcher who would tell him something of the habits of an animal with which he was unacquainted, than with the Lord of the Manor, provided that personage was uninformed upon such subjects. These peculiarities added to the rotundity of his person, invested him with a character of originality which is not often met with amongst the common herd of humanity. He now appeared before Dorrington, habited in a green hunting coat, full of pockets, a Scotch black and white plaid waistcoat, and a pair of trousers of the same pattern. He held a broad-brimmed white hat in his hand as he entered the room, and brought with him an air, redolent of the freshness of fields and flowers. After the usual greetings were exchanged, and a full, true, and particular account given of the poaching adventure on the preceding evening, they set out to visit the ruins of Treadunder Castle. The distance was only a few miles, and as the morning was beautiful, and all nature rejoicing in an atmosphere more transparent than the clearest glass, they felt all the exhilaration which such a favourable combination of circumstances is calculated to inspire. Naturalist, notwithstanding his years, declared he felt as if he could "jump over the moon," and, suiting the action to the word, actually did cut a caper in the air; but it was observable that, with all his elasticity of spirits, his person did not attain to an elevation of more than a few inches The |