when the cakes, or pickles, or home-made wine were praised, have ascribed the merit to Olivia. Her motto was, that the love of opposition formed the basis of most men's characters; that, where they saw themselves courted either by mothers or daughters, they became unattainable; that, if parents seemed anxious to get rid of their daughters, they were fixtures for life; but that if, without any overstrained affectation, their parents seemed indifferent about their marrying, or rather anxious to keep them at home, the great principle of opposition was called into play the men were not on their guardsilently the merits of the maiden stole into their hearts, and the unsuspected matchmaker, by keeping scrupulously in the background, did what no parading, showing off, boasting, and palpable manager could ever achieve.

One of Mrs. Lindsay's maxims was, that it was better to make a good match at five and twenty, than an indifferent one at seventeen. "The earlier you marry a poor man," she would say, "the longer you will have to live in

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poverty, and the greater the number of heirs of discontent and penury you will be doomed to see struggling with fate; tout vient pour celle qui sait attendre.' Be in no hurry—a bad match is worse than no match at all." Under this impression, Mrs. Lindsay, caring, alas! more for her daughter's worldly than her parishioner's eternal prospects, would not rest till she had effected the removal from Moss Grove of a very handsome young curate, whose eloquent sermons, delivered in a clear, emphatic voice, the old and feeble could hear, and whose fine eyes and curly, curate-head of hair brought the young from their pleasant rambles on a Sunday afternoon, at first to admire him, but at last to be roused by his eloquence, alarmed by his denunciations, and instructed by his reasonings.

Seeing that her girls, then very young, shared in the general feeling of admiration for and interest in the preacher, Mrs. Lindsay had him removed, and in his place came a bald old man, whom no one could hear, but with whom certainly no one could fall in love. The church

was again ill attended-the village-girls were again abroad during the service, engaged in idle flirtations-but Mrs. Lindsay thought of a curacy, a hundred a year, and an endless family for her proud Augusta or her gentle Ellen, and then she praised herself for her maternal care; and, with her favourite maxims, “Safe bind, safe find," "prevention is better than cure," and "Charity begins at home," she reconciled her mind to the inaudible preacher and the empty church.

CHAPTER V.

"Falstaff.-Give me a cup of sack, to make mine eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept; for I must speak in passion-and I will do it in King Cambyses' vein." King Henry IV., Part 1st.

Dinner was almost over, and all were beginning to feel very much surprised at Julian's delay, and very anxious about Ellen, when a dashing travelling-carriage drove to the door, and all save Grunter rushed to the windows.

Out sprang a tall, very handsome young man; but he paused to lift out and carry in to the house a young girl, in a habit, her hair dishevelled, and her dress stained with mud. Mute with surprise, the party rushed into the hall (all save Grunter, who had transferred his devotion to a pheasant); but surprise was exchanged for alarm, when they recognized

in the arms of the foreign-looking, moustached Julian, Ellen, pale and insensible. "My son," ejaculated old Lindsay.

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My daughter," sobbed his sister-in-law.

Ellen, dearest !" shrieked Augusta, rushing to her, forgetful at such a moment of her own beauty, and even of the young heir.

Wha con ha' happened?-an accident, I fear," said Miss Tibby.

And Annie cried aloud and wrung her hands.

"A surgeon this instant !" exclaimed Julian. "Sacre diable, François, run to the nearest surgeon."

"When I know where he live, mylor."

"Run, James, run to Mr. Bone's," said old Lindsay. "Dear Julian, carry Ellen into the dining-room, and lay her on the sofa." Julian did so.

The recumbent posture revived her; she looked up, raised herself a little, and smiled faintly.

"Are you much hurt, dear Ellen ?" said

several voices.