into the Wye for vexation. God knows I do not care twopence for it. Oh Cerintha! I wish you were unmarried, and could change yourself into a man, and come and deliver me; for you are disinterested and sincere, and that is all I require. At all events, I will run for it, and be with you before winter; for here I cannot stay. Your friend the Quaker has just rode by. He says 'verily,' that I am cold! I say verily he is no wiser than his horse; and that I could pitch him after my money."

Cerintha sympathized heartily with her cousin, but she was perplexed to know what to do. There were plenty of wits and young fellows of her acquaintance, both rich and poor; but only one whom she thought fit for her charming cousin, and he was a younger brother, as poor as a rat. Besides, he was not only liable to suspicion on that account, but full of delicacies of his own, and the last man in the world to hazard a generous woman's dislike. This was no other than our friend Vertumnus. His real name was Vernon. He lived about five miles from Pomona, and was almost the only young fellow of any vivacity, who had not been curious enough to get a sight of her. He had got a notion that she was proud. "She may be handsome," thought he; "but a handsome proud face is but a handsome ugly one to my thinking, and I'll not venture my poverty to her ill-humour." Cerintha had half made up her mind to undeceive him through the medium of his sister, who was an acquaintance of hers; but an accident did it for her. Vertumnus was riding one day with some friends, who had been rejected, when passing by Pomona's orchard, he saw one of her clownish admirers up in the trees, peeping at her over the wall. The gaping, unsophisticated admiration of the lad made them stop. "Devil take me," said one of our hero's companions, "if they are not at it still. Why, you booby, did you never see a proud woman before, that you stand gaping there, as if your soul had gone out of ye?" "Proud," said the lad, looking down:

a woudn't say nay to a fly, if gentlefolks wouldn't teaze 'un so." "Come," said our hero, "I'll take this opportunity, and see for myself." He was up in the tree in an instant, and almost as speedily exclaimed, "God! What a face!"

"He has it, by the lord!" cried the others, laughing:-" fairly

stuck through the ribs, by Jove.

sworn friends on the thought of it!"

Look, if looby and he arn't

It looked very like it certainly. Our hero had scarcely gazed at her, when, without turning away his eyes, he clapped his hand upon that of the peasant with a hearty shake, and said "You're right, my friend. If there is pride in that face, truth itself is a lie. What a face! What eyes! What a figure!"

Pomona was observing her old gardener fill a basket. From time to time he looked up at her, smiling and talking. She was eating a plum; and as she said something that made them laugh, her rosy mouth sparkled with all its pearls in the sun.

"Pride!" thought Vertumnus :- "there's no more pride in that charming mouth, than there is folly enough to relish my fine companions here."

Our hero returned home more thoughtful than he came, replying but at intervals to the raillery of those with him, and then giving them pretty savage cuts. He was more out of humour with his poverty than he had ever felt, and not at all satisfied with the accomplishments which might have emboldened him to forget it. However, in spite of his delicacies, he felt it would be impossible not to hazard rejection like the rest. He only made up his mind to set about paying his addresses in a different manner;though how it was to be done, he could not very well see. His first impulse was to go to her and state the plain case at once; to say how charming she was, and how poor her lover, and that nevertheless he did not care twopence for her riches, if she would but believe him. The only delight of riches would be to share them with her. "But then," said he, "how is she to take my word for that?"

-

On arriving at home he found his sister prepared to tell him what he had found out for himself,-that Pomona was not proud. Unfortunately she added, that the beautiful heiress had acquired a horror of younger brothers. "Ay," thought he, "there it is. I shall not get her, precisely because I have at once the greatest need of her money and the greatest contempt for it. Alas, yet not so! I have not contempt for anything that belongs to her, even her money. How heartily could I accept it from her, if she knew

ine, and if she is as generous as I take her to be! How delightful would it be to plant, to build, to indulge a thousand expenses in

her company! O those rascals of rich men, without sense or taste, that are now going about, spending their money as they please, and buying my jewels and my cabinets, that I ought to be making her presents of. I could tear my hair to think of it."

It happened luckily or unluckily for our hero, that he was the best amateur actor that had ever appeared. Betterton could not perform Hamlet better, nor Lacy a friar.

He disguised himself, and contrived to get hired in his lady's household as a footman. It was a difficult matter, all the other servants having been there since she was a child, and just grown old enough to escape the passion common to all who saw her. They loved her like a daughter of their own, and were indignant at the trouble her lovers gave her. Vertumnus however made out his case so well, that they admitted him. For a time all went on smoothly. Yes: for three or four weeks he performed admirably, confining himself to the real footman. Nothing could exceed the air of indifferent zeal with which he waited at table. He was respectful, he was attentive, even officious; but still as to a footman's mistress, not as to a lover's. He looked in her face, as if he did not wish to kiss her; said "yes, ma'am" and "no, maʼam” like any other servant; and consented, not without many pangs to his vanity, to wear proper footman's clothes: namely, such as did not fit him. He even contrived, by a violent effort, to suppress all appearance of emotion, when he doubled up the steps of her chariot, after seeing the finest foot and ancle in the world. In his haste to subdue this emotion, he was one day nigh betraying himself. He forgot his part so far, as to clap the door to with more vehemence than usual. His mistress started, and gave a cry. He thought he had shut her hand in, and opening the door again with more vehemence, and as pale as death, exclaimed, “God of Heaven! What have I done to her!"

66

Nothing, James,”—said his mistress, smiling; "only another time you need not be in quite such a hurry." She was surprised at the turn of his words, and at a certain air which she observed for the first time; but the same experience which might have

enabled her to detect him, led her, by a reasonable vanity, to think that love had exalted her footman's manners. This made her

observe him with some interest afterwards, and notice how goodlooking he was, and that his shape was better than his clothes: but he continued to act his part so well, that she suspected nothing further. She only resolved, if he gave any more evidences of being in love, to dispatch him after his betters.

By degrees, our hero's nature became too much for his art. He behaved so well among his fellow-servants, that they all took a liking to him. Now, when we please others, and they shew it, we wish to please them more: and it turned out, that James could play on the viol di gamba. He played so well, that his mistress must needs enquire "what musician they had in the house." "James, Madam."-A week or two after, somebody was reading a play, and making them all die with laughter." Who is reading so well there, and making you all a parcel of mad-caps?"-" It's only James, Madam."—"I have a prodigious footman," thought Pomona. Another day, my lady's-maid came up all in tears to do something for her mistress, and could hardly speak. "What's the matter, Lucy?" "Oh James, Madam!" Her lady blushed a little, and was going to be angry.

"I hope he has not been uncivil."

"Oh no, Ma'am: only I could not bear his being turned out o'doors!"

"Turned out of doors!"

"Yes, Ma'am; and their being so cruel as to singe his white head."

"Singe his white head! Surely the girl's head is turned. What is it, poor soul!"

"Oh nothing, Ma'am. Only the old king in the play, as your ladyship knows. They turn him out o' doors, and singe his white head; and Mr James did it so natural like, that he has made us all of a drown of tears. T'other day he called me his Ophelia, and was so angry with me, I could have died."—" This man is no footman,', said the lady. She sent for him up stairs, and the butler with him "Pray, Sir, may I beg the favour of knowing who you are?" The abruptness of this question totally confounded our hero.

"For God's sake, Madam, do not think it worth your while to with me, and I will tell you all."

be angry

"Worth my while, Sir! I know not what you mean by its being worth my while," cried our heroine, who really felt more angry than she wished to be: "but when an impostor comes into the house, it is natural to wish to be on one's guard against him." Impostor, Madam!" said he, reddening in his turn, and rising with an air of dignity. "It is true," he added, in an humbler tone, -“I am not exactly what I seem to be; but I am a younger brother of a good family, and"

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"A younger brother!" exclaimed Pomona, turning away with a look of despair.

"Oh those d-d words!" thought Vertumnus: "they have undone me. I must go; and yet it is hard."

"I go, Madam," said he in a hurry:-" believe me in only this, that I shall give you no unbecoming disturbance; and I must vindicate myself so far as to say, that I did not come into this house for what you suppose." Then giving her a look, of inexpressible tenderness and respect, and retiring as he said it, with a low bow, he added, "May neither imposture nor unhappiness ever come near you."

Pomona could not help thinking of the strange footman she had had. 66 'He did not come into the house for what I supposed." She did not know whether to be pleased or not at this phrase. What did he mean by it? What did he think she supposed? Upon the whole, she found her mind occupied with the man a little too much, and proceeded to busy herself with her orchard.

There was now more caution observed in admitting new servants into the house; yet a new gardener's assistant came, who behaved like a reasonable man for two months. He then passionately exclaimed one morning, as Pomona was rewarding him for some roses, "I cannot bear it!"-and turned out to be our hero, who was obliged to decamp. My lady became more cautious than ever, and would speak to all the new servants herself. One day a very remarkable thing occurred. A whole side of the green-house was smashed to pieces. The glazier was sent for, not without suspicion of being the perpetrator; and the man's way of behaving strength