wished to think, and to examine myself at leisure, -which I could not do in a crowd; and when I had done this, I returned to the world."

CHAP. XXVIII.

WILL WIMBLE.

"Win us with honest trifles."

SHAKSPEARE.

As the party returned to the house, the doctor asked Georgina if Will Wimble was not to dine with them; which she answered in the affirmative.

"And who is Will Wimble?" inquired Tremaine.

"A sort of pet of mine," answered Evelyn, "whom you once well knew, though you have forgotten him now. Many's the time, he says, he has played at leap-frog with you at your first school."

"I have not the honour of making out who he can be," replied Tremaine.

"Perhaps not," said the Doctor, "for Wimble is a name I have given him; his godfathers and

godmothers christened him John, his friends call him Jack, and his surname is Careless. He descends from that Colonel Careless who passed those pleasant hours with his prince in the oak, after the battle of Worcester: the only thing he's proud of in that way; though he piques himself on making the best fly for a trout, breaking the best pointer, and turning the best rosin box in all the county. "Tis hence I call him Will Wimble."

"I suppose, too," said Tremaine, sarcastically, "he is as polite as his namesake, and waits at every stile till you come up, for fear you should think there are no manners in the country.”

"Not at all unlikely," answered the Doctor, "for he is not very quiescent under any supposed superiority of the town, in that, or indeed in any respect, and is, in fact, in most of his feelings, not only a John Bull, but complete Yorkshire to boot."

"I now recollect him," said Tremaine; "but I thought the breed of such worthy gentlemen was utterly extinct."

"Not altogether,” replied Evelyn, “though I do not suppose our political philosophers of the present day would take any great pains to preserve itseeing that he, as an individual of the species, certainly does not contribute much to the wealth of nations. And, in fact, I do not recommend the

idleness of his life as an example to be followed. He is a man of nature, however, in his way, and so much of a philosopher, that his garden is of far greater consequence to him than his money. He once lost a hundred pounds (all he had saved of his own in the world) by the failure of a neighbouring bank. That morning I received a letter from him, beginning with how sorry I should be to hear of his misfortune. Both Georgy and I were indeed sincerely concerned at what we had before heard; but on reading farther, we found not a word about the hundred pounds, but a great many lamentations that a violent hail-storm had broken down the finest shew of balsams he had ever had, which would certainly have won the prize at the next florists' feast. But he never could bear what are called worldly cares to interfere with him, and once sacrificed even his hopes of fortune to his love of liberty."

"I honour him for that, at least," said Tremaine ; "but what is this last story?"

"He had a cousin, a merchant at Liverpool, who offered to take him into partnership, provided he would apply to business. He gave a reluctant consent; his place was taken in the coach, and the hour of departure approached; when, going to take a last glimpse of a brook that ran at the bottom of his garden, in which he had caught many a trout, it

looked so beautiful, and warbled so invitingly, that he could not stir. In short, he let the coach go without him, passed the whole day by the side of the stream, and wrote a civil letter to his cousin declining his offer."

"And did he not repent?" asked Tremaine.

"Sometimes," continued Evelyn, "when he has wanted money, generally for some benevolent purpose or other: for his brother always supplies him with a good horse; the only great expense he has. In all other points of view, as an innocent and honourable character, always the most cheerful creature in the world, always carrying his cheerfulness into society, and ever on the watch to do a good turn, I know not a worthier man or more welcome guest."

Tremaine pondered these words, and observing the speaking countenance of Georgina approve every thing her father had said, certain thoughts darted into his mind.

After a pace or two, which brought them to the hall door :

"And how old may this worthy be?" asked Tremaine.

"I have told you, about your standing," said the Doctor.

"He is the best creature in the world," said Georgina.

"He is at least a happy one in such favour," observed Tremaine;" and if it were not for his age-"

"Oh! that is nothing," replied Georgina, understanding him, "for I've been married to him a long while already; ever since I was five years old."

This speech cut both ways, and it both pained and pleased Tremaine accordingly, though each almost without his knowing it, and certainly without his knowing why. At all events, he felt more grave than he had done during any previous part of the conversation; when the bell ringing loud, “I dare say that's he," she continued, “and like a good wife I ought to go to meet him.”

"You forget," said her father, "that he never does me the honour of ringing the bell, but rides straight to the stable-door, and puts his horse up himself."

"True," said Georgina; "who can it be ?"

A servant announced a neighbouring nobleman, in the person of Lord St. Clair.