at cards. The table that stood in the middle of the room, being opened for the purpose, the two candles, which had previously graced the chimney, were transferred thither, and cards and counters added.

"You know how to play Cassino, I suppose," said Mrs. Bodkin to Rosina, who beheld with horror the lady with the green shade sitting out, with her knitting in her hand, which made it evident to her that she was destined to be the fourth.

"I play very little," she answered.

"Never mind," said Mrs. Bodkin, "for we could not well do without you, as Miss Bidswell cannot see well enough this evening to play; last night she made all sorts of mistakes,—didn't you, Miss Bidswell ?"

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Hay? what?" said the deaf lady.

Mr. Jeremiah repeated his aunt's question with the voice of a Stentor. She only heard the last syllable.

"Cake? oh yes; I did take some cake with my tea, thank ye, my dear ma'am."

Rosina's fate was decided for that evening; and as she mechanically tried to gain little and great cassino, &c. she reflected on the numerous evils of human life, among which one of the greatest seemed to her at that moment the ennui of being placed for two hours at a card table, with three dull people who could talk of nothing but the game. Once or twice, indeed, Mr. Jeremiah Bodkin brought forward some other subject, and attempted to give details of his prowess at cards in some other society, but he was always stopped in his progress by Mrs. Bodkin's bidding him mind his game; adding, that he was too fond of talking, and that young people should be seen, and not heard. He winked his eye on her saying this, at Rosina, who sat opposite, but she had no mind to be in a plot with him. She was very glad when ten o'clock, striking from an old fashioned clock on the chimney piece, every one prepared to go to

bed, and with numerous bows, and curtseys, and good nights, withdrew to their rooms; Mrs. Bodkin having taken care to inform her great niece that the breakfast was precisely at ten o'clock every morning.

Rain

Tired with her journey she was beyond the time, was received very crossly by the old lady, and treated to cold tea and cold muffins. continued to pour all the morning, notwithstanding which, Mr. Jeremiah went forth for his usual amusements; Miss Bidswell settled to her knitting; Mr. Briggs, the old gentleman with the scratch wig, stood at the window

.... to see

A hog on a dunghill, a crow on a tree;"

and Mrs. Bodkin, who was working at an old bit of carpetting, asked Rosina to read them a novel, which Miss Bidswell had begun the day before, but was forced to discontinue, from the weakness of her eyes. It was one of the silliest that had ever come out from the Minerva press, and during three hours was she obliged to wade

through it; at the end of that time she begged leave to rest, and retired to her room, which she endeavoured to make more comfortable, by unpacking her books, and her drawing and writing implements. It was a cheerless apartment, with scarcely any furniture in it, but looked into the garden, which seemed a handsome one, with a fine grass plat, and many evergreens; it was all well kept, the walks rolled, and the grass closely mowed, a small greenhouse was at a little distance.

Dinner was at the usual hour, and Rosina. was punctual. Mr. Briggs turned half round to examine her, as he had done the day before, probably to ascertain her identity; and Mr. Jeremiah honoured her with much of his notice. Cassino was again the order of the evening; Rosina could make no objection to it, but indulged a hope that her life might not pass long in this disagreeable manner.

Next morning she woke early; it was clear and bright, the rain was at an end, and the sun

rose with splendour. Delighted at the thoughts of taking a walk before breakfast, and enjoying so beautiful a spring morning, she was dressed at eight o'clock, and rejoiced to think she should have two hours to herself, to saunter unmolested in the garden and shrubbery. On descending to the hall, she found both doors fastened, that which she had entered by from the court on her arrival, and the one leading to the garden on the opposite side. She was returning disconsolately to her chamber, when she saw the housemaid approaching to sweep the rooms, and inquired if she could open the garden door for her.

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Oh, dear no," she answered, "it won't be opened some time yet, for my Missus is not awake, and she keeps the keys in her room; it's for prudence like, for she is so afeard of robbers, that she could not go to sleep, until the keys of the house were brought to her in her bed every night."

Rosina was obliged to do without her walk,