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settle in the very precincts of my habitation, confiding in the protection which they think they are to meet with. Can I sally out and deprive them of what the 'mere smoke of my chimnies seemed to promise, when it indicated that it was the dwelling of a human being, and therefore of a friend ?”

“ Your ride has done wonders, indeed," said Tremainé. « It must have restored to you all your good humour, when you can afford to bestow so much of it on a set of paltry birds."

6 Some one has said," answered Evelyn, “(or if not, I will say it now for the first time), that the nature of good-humour is such as to make it matter little what the subject of it is, for it always brings its reward along with it. But my rooks, Sir, are not to be despised, for they shew' more intelligence (I am certain it is above instinct) than most, if not all other animals, except human; and occasionally, I verily believe, more than many of them.

“ The human animals are very much obliged to you," said Tremaine.

“ But,” gravely continued Evelyn, “is there in the whole range of zoology, next to our own great selves,


creatures who seem to possess so much design, such prescience in all they say and do ?”

Say !” exclaimed Tremaine.

Yes, say ! for we must not suppose that, at this moment, they are not in the midst of a debate. I

66 but I agree

and with more alacrity than he had for a long time shewn.

“ Not exactly,” said Georgina ; " but I with my father in that, too, that you were made for better things than to shut yourself up either at Woodington or Belmont.”

From that moment there was a something which cannot exactly be analyzed, but which played through the heart of Tremaine, and wrapped itself round the idea of Georgina, so as ever afterwards to accompany it. It was not love; it was not confirmed friendship, which is of a much slower growth; it was not altogether vanity, though compounded of it; nor gratitude, though the compliment was felt; but it was that complacency, always so sweet in the beginning of an attachment which never fails to be thought of with delight, whatever becomes of the attachment itself: and from that complacency Tremaine never departed.

* Well, but," said Tremaine, 6 following his young hostess as she moved from the hall into the morning room, you do not surely brand a man with misanthropy, because hechooses not to livein a crowd?”

“Oh no!” she replied, “ for many a misanthrope has fed his hatred in a crowd, and many a benevolent person lives alone."

“ The justness of your sentiment charms me," exclaimed Tremaine,


It might,” said Georgina, " if I could recommend it in such language as I have lately been reading-for the twentieth time I believe, between my father and myself; for we cannot tire of it.”

Her eye glanced on an open quarto as she spoke.

I see at once what you mean," observed Tremainé, taking up Childe Harold, “ and to be sure no poetry, was ever so happy in its subject; no subject so ennobled by its poetry, as in these golden lines. I envy the man who can thus feel, and thus write."

“For his writing, yes! but as to his feeling,” answered Georgina, “ I cannot envy one who seems to take so false a view of mankind.”

“ Your age, and your happiness with your father, and, no doubt, your other friends (for many must you have)," said Tremaine, with a tenderness of look not unremarked by Georgina, “make that a very natural sentiment; but I grieve to think how very little time longer even you will remain in the world, before you find the solitude in a crowd which this writer so feelingly describes; how soon you will observe

'« Minions of splendour, shrinking from distress,
• None that with kindred consciousness endued,
• If we were not, would seem to smile the less,
• Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought, and sued !'".

“ I would rather,” replied Georgina, “think the world what I am sure heaven designed it to be, and not what you would make it. Should we have this sun,” continued she, looking at the open windows, ó that gilds every thing with cheerfulness, and this concert of birds, which, while it exhilarates the heart, is offered to us all, if we might not be happy if we pleased? I never behold such a day without being grateful, and thinking it a féte. Nay, I am disposed to be a votary to Mademoiselle St. Sillery's philosophy, and to believe that it requires almost an effort to be unhappy when the sun shines.”*

“ You prefer, then, the previous lines of this professed lover of solitude," said Tremaine, turning again to the passage.

“I do,” said Georgina, “but should like to hear them all again.”

Tremaine willingly obeyed her, and with great pathos recited the passage beginning “ To sit on rocks, &c.”

“ My father says,” observed Georgina, when Tremaine had ceased reading, “ that there is not a word of these lovely lines that does not carry poetry to the heart.”.

* Mademoiselle St. Sillery was a gay and pleasing French girl, mentioned in Pinkney's tour through France. Sir William Temple also says (though more in the spirit of a pbilosopher than a sentimentalist), “ The sun, in our climate at least, has something so reviving, that a fair day is a kind of sensual pleasure."

“ I'm glad there is any thing," said Tremaine, “ in which your father and I can entirely agree; and is not he at least in rapture with the whole thought ?''

56 'Tis at best a melancholy one,” answered Miss Evelyn, with a sort of sigh, “ and I should pity the author, if I did not feel the force of what my father says (I agree with him there, too), that in one so young it cannot be genuine."

“ Not genuine !” exclaimed Tremaine. “ I should want no other proof than the glowing nature that breathes through every line of the description.”

“ And yet poetry is but fiction," said Georgina, smiling; " and if there are fictitious distressess in real life, what may there not be in poetry?"

: She said this with an archness which Tremaine did not exactly relish; and apparently with a view to change the subject, he exclaimed, “ But where is your father all this time?”

“ You will find him, I daressay, among his friends there,” replied Miss Evelyn, looking out.

“ His friends! I did not know you had visitors.”

66 No! they are our fellow-inhabitants, and daily companions.” she added, turning her eyes to the rookery.; "they are particularly busy and talkative just now; and though he went to Belford this morning, yet as I know his horses are come back, and

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