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emplified. It was so here: the "eternal sunshine" was stamped on that white head, and gentle mouth: it emanated in every action, and beamed in every glance. From the days of his childhood he had walked with his God: he and his religion had grown up together: he had lived under the guidance of the pillar and the cloud, and grown old by the bank of Jordan, waiting for his appointed time, with his loins girt up for action, and his lamp trimmed and bright. In the words of the unconsciously eloquent Bunyan, "He had his eyes lifted up to heaven: the best of books was in his hand the law of truth was written on his lips: the world was behind his back; he stood as if he pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did hang over his head." Mary Leyden, the Vicar's only daughter, was one of those gracious womanly beings that are difficult to describe, from possessing no one prominent characteristic, nor aspiring to any; but whose presence is felt wherever they move, from the blessings they scatter round them. Her features were pleasing, her figure graceful; she had that simple lady-like manner that invariably creates respect, and a sweet gentleness of voice and expression that at once made its way to Margaret's heart. The room was old-fashioned, but commodious: the shelves were stored with books of all kinds, for our Vicar was a man of taste and literature, as well as a sound divine; and had both an eye and an ear for whatever was excellent, whether of sight, sound, or conception. He had one little weakness-must we confess it?-he was fond, very fond, of his snuff-box and certainly contrived to indulge in that untidy luxury with as little inconvenience to others as possible. In proportion, however, as he patronized this particular branch of the incomprehensible happiness produced by that too popular weed, did he frown upon all its kindred, condemning alike the humble clay tube of his old sexton, and the delicate exotics preserved from vulgar eyes in Ferdinand's cigar case. He could prove to any one, we do not exactly know how, that there was an immense difference between the two. "Snuff, sir," he would say, "clears the brain-smoking stupifies it," and as the clearness of his own was a standing argument in favor of sternutation, his hearers were fain to yield the point, and not light their Havanas till he was out of sight.

As the conversation grew warmer, Margaret's observing eye marked a wide difference in the Vicar's manner towards the two brothers and just in reverse of what she expected. While he had always a lively sally, or a friendly word for Nelson, and treated him with invariable kindness, he would draw Alfred into some interesting argument, induce him to recite favorite passages, and often defer his own opinion to that of his young friend. Alfred too, appeared a different being his form seemed to dilate, his head grew erect: his nervousness rolled away like fog before the sun; and when Miss Armadale, in the course of conversation, hazarded a remark in support of his, and he turned. suddenly round to thank her, for the first time she perceived a pair of the most brilliant blue eyes she had ever seen in the face of man. Schiller's famous "Hippogryph "-now yoked with an ox to the plough-and now reined by Apollo, presented not two aspects more widely opposite: Miss Armadale could scarcely believe it could be the same ill-starred individual who had broken her smelling-bottle, and spoiled her evening dress : and her respect for him increased every minute.

"I am afraid," said Nurse Wilton, at last, "we must be going home to dinner, Miss Rose."

"Why not stay and dine here ?" said the Vicar, caress ing his favorite Rory.

"Not without leave, sir, thank you: it is my mistress's desire."

"Then it must be obeyed, of course; but I shall keep Miss Esther and these two gentlemen to make a luncheon with us, if they can and Mary and I will walk back to the Grange with them, and pay our respects to Miss Armadale."

With this arrangement every body was satisfied, and Margaret, Alfred, and Nelson, were soon seated round their host's simple table.

"Roast mutton again, Nelson, you see," said Mary, as the cover was taken off,-" we never give you any thing else."

"What else could one expect at a shepherd's table?" said Nelson, laughing.

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Especially," said the Vicar, dryly, "when he asks puppy-dogs like you to luncheon."

"Not me alone, good sir," said Nelson, glancing at his companions.

"Yes, you are the only real eater of the party;—a beauty and a poet live on nothing but fragrance and dewdrops, is it not so, Miss Esther ?"

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"I am no judge, sir," said Margaret, as I cannot take your compliment to myself, and I was not aware till this moment that Mr. Alfred Crawford was a poet."

She looked at the latter as she spoke, with an earnestness that thrilled to his soul, and brought back all his nervousness. To hide his confusion, he stooped to feed the old dog: gave him half that was on his plate, and seemed feelingly absorbed in his somewhat ancient perfections. The Vicar, who knew him well, having enjoyed his embarrassment for a few minutes, brought back the conversation to literature, and to set him at his ease, began talking of some books he had just had bound.

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"What do you think that literary character, the Durnton bookseller, has done with my old Shakspeare, Alfred? Half the leaves are misplaced, Macbeth' is mixed up with the Merry Wives of Windsor,' and the famous daggerscene is made to end thus: I go, and it is done the bell invites me- -there's pippins and cheese to come!" "

"What would you say to a gentleman I knew once," observed Margaret, "who never had but one copy of Shakspeare in his life, and half of it was never cut open ?"

"I should have suggested he could not read," said the Vicar, "but my dear Miss Esther, I can quite believe such a thing happening in the present day to such fashionable students as Nelson, for instance."

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Me, Mr. Leyden!" cried Nelson, starting up—“I deny the charge! I'll bet you whatever you like

"I never bet, sir: and have no respect for those who do." "Then you are wrong, sir, begging your pardon, we are taught to respect our betters."

"Young man," said the Vicar, taking a pinch, gravely, "since you are compelled to support your defence by a wager, and your wager by a pun, it is plain your case is a bad one.'

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Unfair, sir,-unfair-I demand an open trial; setting defence, wager, and pun on one side, I will undertake to quote Shakspeare with any of you."

"Agreed," said Mr. Leyden, "and by way of experiment, I propose that each person here present shall recite a passage in turn: it will be a sample of their tastes. Come, Mary, will you begin, or shall I ?"

"Oh, you, by all means, papa," said Miss Leyden, coloring, "you must recite for both, for you know my bad

memory.

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"Nonsense, child: you never yet forgot any thing I wished you to remember-but now for it, if my old head will serve my turn." And without further preface, he recited in a deep, though now tremulous voice, those magnifi cent lines in the "Tempest :".

"Our revels now are ended: these our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air,

And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers-the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples--the great globe itself,
Yea, all that it inherit-shall dissolve,
And like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind..."

Amid the applause of his young hearers, the Vicar turned to Margaret, and requested her to favor them. She would fain have been excused, but he appeared so disappointed, she was obliged to comply: and began Portia's graceful speech on mercy her voice gained strength and sweetness as she proceeded, and Alfred's eye, as he listened, seemed kindling with some irresistible emotion, which burst forth as soon as she paused, in the words of the ill-fated Montague

"O speak again, bright angel, for thou art
As glorious to this sight, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven,
Unto the white, upturned, wondering eyes
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy pacing clouds,
And sails upon the bosom of the air!"

"Bravo, Romeo!" cried Nelson, "you have brought all the color into Miss Esther's cheeks: I will try your blushes now." And with mock-heroic emphasis, he turned to her, pointing first to Alfred, then to himself:

"Look here upon this picture, and on this;
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers,
See,"

pointing to Alfred, who winced perceptibly,

"what a grace is seated on this brow!
Hyperion's curls-the front of Jove himself
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command,
A station like the herald Mercury,
New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;
A combination and a form indeed,

Where every god did seem to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a Man!"

It was impossible not to laugh: even Alfred, confounded as he was, joined in the general merriment, and was rewarded by hearing Margaret take his part. "You should have continued, Mr. Nelson--and described yourself in your proper colors,

"like a mildewed ear,

Blasting his wholesome brother!"

"Hear, hear!" said the Vicar, wiping the tears that laughter had brought to his cheeks, "we'll cut him up in our next edition of the 'Dunciad,' Alfred! Now as Mary has been making signs to me for the last ten minutes to let her off, and as time is getting on, I suggest, most dear actors, that we proceed on our walk."

The party set out, but were soon quitted by Mary, who had an engagement at the school. Nelson insisted on carrying her basket as far as the door, and the Vicar walked on, conversing with Alfred and Margaret. The former having remarked that his mother and her guest were gone out for the day, Mr. Leyden said he would defer his call, that he might have the pleasure of seeing Miss Armadale face to face, and trying to persuade her to settle at Rockstone Manor. "Whereabouts is the manor-house?" asked Margaret. "On the other side of the village, come, we will go that way, if you are not tired.”

Margaret was a little so: but she would not own it, and they took the round of the village accordingly, and in time reached a wide common, skirted on one side by the woods of

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