I could distinctly perceive that between the two ladies there was, to use a common expression, but "little love lost." How different from the frank warmth of honest Joe's sincere congratulations! But when Kate turned her mischievous eyes upon me, and wished me joy with the frankness of an old friend, and that comic look of arch wickedness which was her principal fascination, and of which in days gone by, I had too keenly felt the power, I could not help thinking that with all her infe riority, in sense, conduct, and character, to the lady who was about to honour me with her hand, there never was in this world anything half so charming as Kate Cotherstone, now Mrs. Bagshot. We always considered Mr. Nogo an irreclaimable old bachelor," the little vixen had the unblushing effrontery to say in my very face; "but the fascinations of the west, Mrs. Montague, have been too much for him. When is it to be my dear? I should so like to see 'the trousseau,' I hear it is perfectly magnificent." And the two ladies having got upon that prolific subject walked on towards the Lodge, amidst a torent of conversation; turning upon the deceptive art of dress-making, and seasoned with a little amicable sparring, and a few of those retorts, with which at periods of unusual excitement, the gentle beings love to season their discourse. Joe and I followed in their wake, soberly enough. I thought my old friend looked more subdued than usual; but as he had only been married about a month, of course his chains must have sat lightly; and it could not have been his new character that worried him. He did, however, hint to me, in the course of our conversation, that the old brown horse so much admired in the field as between the shafts was about to be sold, and that he was thinking of getting his duty done for a few months, and giving Kate a little gaiety at Bath. Oh, my prophetic soul! could I not foresee the gloomy future of my own destiny in the clouds which darkened the brow of my once so cheerful friend?

"It wont take long sir, but somehow I wish it was well over," remarked the Muff of the Minories to my unworthy self, on the morning of his eventful contest with the well known "Brummagem Bouncer,' for the particulars of which, couched in the flowery language of the "fancy," I must refer my readers to the columns of that eloquent periodical, Bell's Life in London, and without for an instant presuming to compare the ceremony illumined by the sacred torch of Hymen with those antagonistic matches which we learn from the authority of the classics are presided over by Pollux, I am bound to confess that my waking feeling on the eventful morning which ushered in my wedding day was very much akin to that of my former instructor in the science of self-defence. My head was in a whirl of confusion, consequent upon the number and variety of my necessary arrangements; my eyes were dazzled with the gorgeous and exceedingly unbecoming raiment, in which, as is the custom of my country, I was about to face the ordeal; my ears were deafened with the continuous peal which clanged out from the church-steeple of the adjoining village, pour encourager les autres, and the only clear impression on my bewildered brain was a fervent wish that it was this time to-morrow, or next week, or next year! To other and less interested actors in the scene I must resign the task of describing the different details of the important ceremony-the merriment of friends the gravity, not to say sadness, of the principal performers -the business-like air of the clergyman-the concealed commiseration

of the beadle-and the sarcastic applause of the clerk. Flowers, I am told, were scattered in our path, to and from the simple village-church -ale flowed in hogsheads, and there was bride-cake enough to make all the school-children sick; but of these facts I did not become conscious till long afterwards. The Squire gave away his sister, Bagshot performed the service, the fatal words were spoken, and as I began to have a dim consciousness that Mrs. Montague Forbes had now become Mrs. Nogo, part and parcel of myself, I felt a horrid uncertainty as to the identity of the former owner of that patronymic; a ghastly doubt as to whether this was indeed still the same individual, whom for more years than it is necessary to specify, I had considered as my best and most indulgent friend.

ERNEST ATHERLEY;

OR, SCENES AT HOME AND ABROAD.

BY LORD WILLIAM LENNOX.

CHAP. VI.

"Then a soldier,

Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation

Even at the cannon's mouth."

SHAKSPEARE.

I join my Regiment at Portsmouth-Daguerreotype Portraits of Major Prowle and Adjutant Cludde, of "Ours"-Portsmouth "as it was, and as it is."

The death of the companion of my boyish days, and that of his bereaved mother, produced so great a shock upon my feelings, that I was not sorry when the time arrived for joining my regiment at Portsmouth. In the mean time my thoughts had in some degree been diverted by the necessary preparations for home, or perhaps foreign, service. My uniforms had been ordered in London, to be ready for me to try on in passing through; my camp bed and canteen had arrived at Atherley Manor; innumerable presents had been given to me by my relatives and friends, and among them-not the least valued-was a thorough-bred mare, which Mr. Ramsay had sent me, and which, as a matter of course, was duly named "Fair Ellen." The day previous to my departure arrived; I had devoted the whole of the morning to the object of my first passion; we had exchanged love-tokens-but I will spare my readers a description of the parting scene, in which I lavished every flattering epithet upon my charmer, and with the glowing imagination of a youth still in his teens, vowed eternal constancy. Upon my return to the Manor-house, my father sent for me, and in the most affectionate strain gave me advice worthy of a Christian parent. My mother too, in eloquence such as can only come from the heart of a woman to the offspring of her vows, addressed every feeling of my

nature. How often in after days, amidst the anguish, strifes, and conflicts of mortal life, have the tenderness and care of that gentle being passed in review before me! How have I reflected upon opportunities lost, upon faculties perverted! "How have I hated instruction, and my heart despised reproof!" To resume: the remainder of the day was passed in leave-taking; and if good wishes could have prevailed, the kind aspirations breathed for my spiritual and temporal welfare would have rendered me a good and happy mortal. At eight o'clock the following morning the Birmingham and London coach pulled up at the lodge-gate, and amidst the cordial shaking hands of friends I took my seat on the box. The journey was dull and tedious, for in those days the heavy "Brummagem" carried six inside and twelve out, and was not much faster than one of Pickford's modern vans. "Twenty minutes allowed here, gentlemen, for dinner!" exclaimed the coachman of the Highflyer, as we drove up to the Sugarloaf at Dunstable. What a scene of confusion ensued!-bells rang; ostlers halloed; waiters ran. "Flease to alight, ladies and gentlemen?" said the landlord, addressing the six "insides," while the ostler, bringing a somewhat crazy ladder, made a similar request to the twelve "outsides." The day had been miserable-incessant rain, with a biting easterly wind, accompanied by sleet, which of course gave the facetious"dragsman" an opportunity of indulging in his stock jocosities upon "heavy wet" and "cold without." After a little delay the passengers entered the best parlour, anticipating a warm reception, and those creature comforts which all travellers (especially coach travellers) look forward to with so much delight; but here the legal adage that "possession is nine points of the law" was not realized, nor was Shenstone's eulogium on his "welcome at an inn" at all borne out. The new comers found every seat near the fire occupied, while a soiled table-cloth, covered with fragments of food and a tray of empty glasses, furnished evident proof that another dinner had recently been discussed.

"Waiter! waiter!" shouted half-a-dozen voices. A slip-shod servant-man entered. "Where's the dinner?" inquired the shivering, half-drenched passengers.

"Beg pardon, gentlemen! the Independent was rather late to-dayHighflyer in early.'

This colloquy was put an end to by the entrance of a portly man with a Bardolph countenance, a low-crowned hat, a Belcher handkerchief, and a huge, caped "upper Benjamin."

"Ladies and gentlemen, the time's up for the Independent."

Then commenced the process of cloaking, shawling, great-coating, and paying; and after sundry anathemas against the ostler for allowing the seats to get drenched, and a few precautionary notices, "Sit fast!" "Hold tight!" "All right!" the Independent departed.

The Highflyers now took possession of the fire; and ten minutes having elapsed the landlady made her appearance, attended by sundry "helps" bearing dishes with tin covers. The latter were soon removed, and displayed scalding meagre-soup, a coarse fat leg of mutton, a very tough beef-steak, potatoes-hot without and hard within, and some gritty cabbages.

"A slice of mutton for a lady," said the waiter, approaching a stout gentleman who was helping himself to that part of the mutton so much

prized by gourmands, called the "pope's eye." His knife changed its direction, and he filled the lady's plate with a less orthodox ration.

a lady."

"Please, sir, a little fat," continued the waiter, "and some more gravy," added the persevering attendant, looking to an extra fee from an old stager, who invariably sent his demands as from Numerous other applications were made to the carver, who, disgusted with his arduous post, helped himself to the luxury he had coveted, and requested the waiter to carve for the rest of the company. "Tempus fugit," especially time devoted to pleasure, and none of the party were aware how fast the hour-glass had run, until the entrance of the coachman, who informed them that the twenty minutes were up, and that he went no further. Up started the bon-vivant—

"Coachman, the time can't be up. I havn't eaten a morsel." "Two minutes over, sir," replied the driver.

"Abominable!" continued the first speaker, "'tis a regular imposi

tion."

Shakspeare asks, "Who riseth from a feast with that keen appetite that he sits down?" The bard of Avon could never have dined at a coach dinner.

Then commenced another scene of bustle and confusion-scrambling for great coats, cloaks, shawls, umbrellas, and ringing for waiters to bring brandy-and-water that had been ordered at least ten minutes before. The spirits would not obey the summons, although summoned from the vasty depth of the cellar. Then, when half-crowns or shillings were tendered to the coachman, as a matter of course he had "never such a thing as change." Another summons, "The Highflyer just going to start!" and lo! the waiter appears with a tray containing "one cold without," "four hots with," two warm sugar and no fruit," and "three with the chill over. Fortunate was the owner of the cold beverage, for no one could have swallowed the scalding potations, which were left as perquisites to the fraternity of "Coming, sir's!" Amidst the varied tongues of the establishment, "Please to remember the waiter, sir!" "Didn't take for your dinner, ladies!" "A glass of brandy, ma'am !" "A basin of soup and a pint of sherry gone away without paying!" "Chamber-maid," " Miss" "Ostler!" Sir!" "Get me some dry straw-there's a shilling!" "All right, sir!-Sam, bring the gentleman a truss!" Before the order could be obeyed, the coachman exclaimed "Let 'em go, Jem-I've got 'em!" and the Highflyers bowled away at the rate of six miles an hour. It was 66 past ten o'clock and a cloudy night," (as the sonorous tone of the sleepy guardian of the watch informed us) before we arrived at the Bell Inn, Holborn, from whence I transported myself into a lumbering hackney-coach, and proceeded to Long's Hotel, in Bond-street, at that time the fashionable rendezvous for all young military heroes. After two days' residence at this far-famed house, during which brief period my bill more than exceeded a month's pay, I took my leave, and at six o'clock on a fine summer morning found myself at the Old White Horse Cellar, Piccadilly, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Portsmouth Regulator from its point of starting in the City. After a look of horror from the coachman at the quantity of luggage about to be stowed away on the roof, and in the boot, I jumped up on the front seat, and then contemplated the animated scene around me. What a

confusion! what a Babel of tongues! the tumult, the noise, the hurry, the bustle! People hurrying hither and thither; some who had arrived too soon, others too late. There were coaches and carriages, and vans, and carts, and barrows; porters hurrying, touters swearing, cads elbowing, coachmen wrangling, passengers grumbling, men pushing, women scolding; trunks, portmanteaus, hat-boxes, carpet-bags, bandboxes, strewed the pavement; orange-merchants, cigar-merchants, umbrella-merchants, dog-merchants, sponge-merchants proclaiming the superiority of their various wares; pocket-knives with ten blades, a corkscrew, button-hook, punch-picker, lancet, gimlet, gun-screw, fleam, and a saw; trousers-straps, four pairs for a shilling; silver watchguards, cheap, cheap, very cheap ;" patent pens, and n'ever-pointed pencils, twelve for sixpence; Bandana handkerchiefs that had never seen foreign parts, to be given away for an old hat; London sparrows painted, as the coachmakers say, "yellow bodies," passed off as canaries, although "their native wood-notes wild" had never been heard out of the sound of Bow bells; ill-shaped curs, "shaven and shorn," and looking, like the priest in the nursery story, "all forlorn," painted, powdered, and decked with red collars or blue ribbons, assumed the form of French poodles, who "could do everything but speak."

Members of the Society for the Diffusion of Knowledge were hawking literature at the lowest rate imaginable: last year's hannuals, at the small charge of one shilling, the hengravings worth double the money to hany hamateur; the Prophetic Almanac, neatly bound, halfa-crown (the stamp duty not having been repealed in the days I write of); an account-book containing one hundred pages of letter-paper, sixpence; ballads, one halfpenny each; and the last dying speeches of the numerous malefactors that then expiated their crimes at Tyburn or the Old Bailey, for a penny; the remainder of the group, consisting of perambulating piemen, coachmen out of place, apothecaries' boys with glazed hats and wicker baskets, lounging about although sent on errands of life and death, country clods, town trampers, gaping, talking, and wondering; the din occasionally interrupted by a street-organ, the trampling of cattle, the bellowing of goaded oxen, the creaking noise of a market-cart, or the music of a guard's horn. At length, as my companions (two weather-beaten tars) remarked, "the skipper having stowed his jawing tacks," we got "under weigh," and after a tedious journey drove up to the door of the George Inn, Portsmouth. During the somewhat lengthy process of unloading the coach, hiring a van to transport my effects to my new quarters, I will lay before the reader a Daguerreotype likeness of the commanding officer, who, in the temporary absence of Colonel Douglas, was ruling over the destinies of the gallant --th.

Major Prowle was one of the greatest martinets in the British service: he was of rather diminutive stature, with a strong muscular frame, a short neck, rubicund countenance, and sandy-coloured hair, always cut close according to regulation. If anyone had been desired to select the most likely subject throughout the realms for an apoplectic fit, the choice would have fallen on the above-mentioned gallant officer; for not only did his natural appearance portend that calamity, but the chances were increased by the ungovernable temper to which he too

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