full of airs and graces of the very worst sort; but I don't know that she was much more ignorant and silly than a girl of nineteen, with a neglected education, must needs be; and she had the farther excuse of being a spoiled child. Her father doated upon her, and thought her the most accomplished young woman of the age; for certain, she could play a little, and sing a little, and paint a little, and talk a little very bad French, and dance and dress a great deal. She had also cultivated her mind by reading all the love-stories and small poetry that came in her way; corresponded largely with half-a-dozen bosom friends picked up at her different seminaries: and even aspired to the character of authoress, having actually perpetrated a sonnet to the moon, which sonnet, contrary to the wellknown recipe of Boileau and the ordinary practice of all nations, contained eighteen lines, four quatrains, and a couplet; a prodigality of words which the fair poetess endeavoured to counterbalance by a corresponding sparingness of idea. There was no harm in Julia, poor thing, with all her affectation. She was really warm-hearted and well-tempered, and might have improved under her sister's kind and judicious management, but for a small accident which interrupted the family harmony, and eventually occasioned their removal from Hannonby. or reclined in a picturesque attitude expecting to be made love to; and Captain Claremont, who had never seen either sister before, pleased with Julia's beauty, and a little alarmed at Anne's wit, appeared in a fair way of losing his heart in the proper quarter. In short, the flirtation seemed going on very prosperously; and the admiral in high glee, vented divers sea jokes on the supposed lovers, and chuckled over the matter to Bill Jones, who winked and grinned and nodded responsively. After a few weeks that sagacious adherent began to demur-"Things seemed," as he observed, " rather at a stand-still-the courtship was a deal slacker, and his honour, the captain, had talked of heaving anchor, and sailing off for Lincolnshire." To this the admiral answered nothing but "tush!" and "pshaw !" and as the captain actually relinquished, with very little pressing, his design of leaving Hannonby, Bill Jones's suspicions did seem a little super-subtle. Bill, however, at the end of ten days, retained his opinion. "For certain," he said, "Miss Julia had all the signs of liking upon her, and moped and hung her head and talked to herself like the negro who drowned himself for love on board the Mermaiden; and the captain, he could not say but he might be in love-he was very much fallen away since he had been in that latitude-had lost his spunk, and was The admiral, always addicted to favourit- become extraordinarily forgetsome, he might ism, had had under his protection, from boy-be in love, likely enough, but not with Miss hood to manhood, one youth of remarkable Julia-he was sure to sheer away from her; promise. He had been his first-lieutenant on never spoke to her at breakfast or dinner, and board the Mermaiden, and was now, at three-would tack a hundred ways not to meet her, and-twenty, a master and commander; which promotion, although it ejected him from that paragon of frigates, the young captain did not seem to think so great an evil as the admiral had found his advancement. He was invited to the White House forthwith; and the gallant veteran, who seldom took the trouble to conceal any of his purposes, soon announced that Captain Claremont was his intended sonin-law, and that Miss Julia was the destined bride. whilst he was always following in the wake of Miss Anne; and she (Miss Julia) had taken to writing long letters again, and to walking the terrace between the watches, and did not seem to care for the captain. He could not make the matter out. Miss Anne, indeed”— Here the admiral, to whom the possibility of a failure in his favourite scheme had never occurred, interrupted his confidant by a thousand exclamations of "ass! blockhead! lubber!" to which tender appellations, that faithful satellite made no other reply than a shake of the head as comprehensive as Lord Burleigh's. The gentleman arrived, and did as much honour to the admiral's taste as his other favourite Bill Jones. Captain Claremont was really a very fine young man, with the best The next morning vindicated Bill's sagacipart of beauty, figure and countenance, and a ty. Anne, who, for obvious reasons, had taken delightful mixture of frankness and feeling, of the task upon herself, communicated to her spirit and gaiety, in his open and gentlemanly father that Captain Claremont had proposed manners; he was, at a word, just the image to her, and that she had accepted his offer. that one conjures up when thinking of a naval The admiral was furious, but Anne, though officer. His presence added greatly to the very mild, was very firm; she would not give enjoyment of the family; the admiral "fought up her lover, nor would her lover relinquish his battles over again," and so did his lady, who talked and laughed all day long: Anne watched the proceedings with evident amusement, and looked even archer than usual; whilst Julia, the heroine of the scene, behaved as is customary in such cases, walked about exquisitely dressed, with a book in her hand, her; and Julia, when appealed to, asserted her female privilege of white-lying, and declared, that if there was not another man in the world, she would never have married Captain Claremont. The admiral, thwarted by every body, and compelled to submit for the first time in his life (except in the affair of his promotion sloping into the very stream; so that the cows, which, in sultry weather, came down by twos and by threes, from the opposite meadows, to cool themselves in the water, could almost crop the leaves as they stood. and that of the ducked sailor), stormed, and ings behind, and an old-fashioned garden with swore, and scolded all round, and refused to its rows of espaliers, its wide flower-borders, be pacified; Mrs. Floyd, to whom his fiat had and its close filbert-walk, stretching like a seemed like fate, was frightened at the gene-cape into the waters, the strawberry beds, ral temerity, and vented her unusual discomfort in scolding too; Anne took refuge in the honse of a friend; and poor Julia, rejected by one party and lectured by the other, comforted herself by running away, one fine night, with a young officer of dragoons, with whom she had had an off-and-on correspondence for a twelvemonth. This elopement was the copestone of the admiral's misfortunes; he took a hatred to Hannonby, and left it forthwith; and it seemed as if he had left his anger behind him, for the next tidings we heard of the Floyds, Julia and her spouse were forgiven in spite of his soldiership, and the match had turned out far better than might have been expected; and Anne and her captain were in high favour, and the admiral gaily anticipating a flag-ship and a war, and the delight of bringing up his grandsons to be the future ornaments of the British navy. THE QUEEN OF THE MEADOW. In a winding unfrequented road, on the south side of our Village, close to a low, twoarched bridge, thrown across a stream of more beauty than consequence, stood the small ir regular dwelling, and the picturesque buildings of Hatherford Mill. It was a pretty scene on a summer afternoon, was that old mill, with its strong lights and shadows, its low-browed cottage covered with the clustering Pyracantha, and the clear brook which, after dashing, and foaming, and brawling, and playing off all the airs of a mountain river, while pent up in the mill-stream, was no, sooner let loose, than it subsided into its natural peaceful character, and crept quietly along the valley, meandering through the green woody meadows, as tranquil a trout stream, as ever Izaak Walton angled in. In my mind, that was the pleasanter scene of the two; but such could hardly have been the general opinion, since nine out of ten passers-by never vouchsafed a glance at the great" farm, but kept their eyes steadily fixed on the mill; perhaps to look at the old buildings, perhaps at the miller's young daughter. Katy Dawson was accounted by common, consent the prettiest girl in the parish. Female critics in beauty would be sure to limit the commendation by asserting that her fe tures were irregular, that she had not a good feature in her face, and so forth; but these remarks were always made in her absence, and no sooner did she appear than even her critics felt the power of her exceeding loveliness. It was the Hebe look of youth and health, the sweet and joyous expression, and above all, the unrivalled brilliancy of colouring, that made Katy's face, with all its faults, so plea sant to look upon. A complexion of the purest white, a coral lip, and a cheek like the pear, her namesake, "on the side that's next the sun," were relieved by rich curls of brown hair, of the deep yet delicate hue that one sometimes finds in the ripest and latest hazel-, nut of the season. Her figure was well suited▶ to her blossomy countenance, round, short, and childlike; add to this, "a pretty foot, a merry glance, a passing pleasing tongue," and no wonder that Katy was the belle of the village. But gay and smiling though she were, the fair maid of the mill was little accessible to wooers. Her mother had long been dead, and her father, who held her as the very apple of his eye, kept her carefully away from the rustic junketings, at which rural flirtations are usually begun. Accordingly our village beauty' had reached the age of eighteen, without a Many a traveller has stayed his step to ad- lover. She had, indeed, had two offers; one mire the old buildings of Hatherford Mill, from a dashing horse-dealer, who having seen backed by its dark orchard, especially when her for five minutes one day, when her father its accompanying figures, the jolly miller sit-called her to admire a nag that he was cheapting before the door, pipe in mouth, and jugening, proposed for her that very night as they in hand, like one of Teniers' boors, the mealy were chaffering about the price, and took the miller's man with his white sack over his shoulders, carefully descending the out-of-door steps, and the miller's daughter, flitting about amongst her poultry, gave life and motion to the picture. The scenery at the other end of the road was equally attractive, in a different style, Its principal feature was the great farm of the parish, an old manorial house, solid and venerable, with a magnificent clump of witch elms in front of the porch, a suburb of out-build refusal in such dudgeon, that he would have left the house utterly inconsolable, had hent contrived to comfort himself by cheating the offending papa, twice as much as he intended, in his horse bargain. The other proffer was from a staid, thick, sober, silent, middle-aged personage, who united the offices of scho master and land-measurer, an old crony of the good miller's, in whose little parlour he had smoked his pipe regularly every Saturday evening for the last thirty years, and who' called him still from habit, " Young Sam Robinson." He, one evening as they sat together smoking, outside the door, broke his accustomed silence, with a formal demand of his comrade's permission to present himself as a suitor to Miss Katy; which permission being, as soon as her father could speak for astonishment, civilly refused, Master Samuel Robinson addressed himself to his pipe again, with his wonted phlegm, played a manful part in emptying the ale-jug, and discussing the Welsh rabbit, reappeared as usual, on the following Saturday, and to judge from his whole demeanour, seemed to have entirely forgotten his unlucky proposal. Soon after the rejection of this most philosophical of all discarded swains, an important change took place in the neighbourhood, in the shape of a new occupant of the great farm. The quiet respectable old couple, who had resided there for half a century, had erected the mossy sun-dial, and planted the great mulberry-tree, having determined to retire from business, were succeeded by a new tenant from a distant county, the youngest son of a gentleman brought up to agricultural pursuits, whose spirit and activity, his boldness in stocking and cropping, and his scientific management of manures and machinery, formed the strongest possible contrast with the old-world practices of his predecessors. All the village was full of admiration of the intelligent young farmer, Edward Grey; who being unmarried, and of a kindly and sociable disposition, soon became familiar with high and low, and was nowhere a greater favourite than with his opposite neighbour, our good miller. Katy's first feeling towards her new acquaintance, was an awe, altogether different from her usual shame-facedness; a genuine fear of the quickness and talent which broke out not merely in his conversation, but in every line of his acute and lively countenance. There was occasionally, a sudden laughing light in his hazel eye, and a very arch and momentary smile, now seen, and now gone, to which, becoming as most people thought them, she had a particular aversion. In short, she paid the young farmer, for so he persisted in being called, the compliment of running away, as soon as he came in sight, for three calendar months. At the end of that time, appearances mended. First she began to loiter at the door; then she staid in the room; then she listened; then she smiled; then she laughed outright; then she ventured to look up; then she began to talk in her turn: and before another month had past, would prattle to Edward Grey as fearlessly and freely, as to her own father. On his side, it was clear that the young farmer, with all his elegance and refinement, his education and intelligence, liked nothing better than this simple village lass. He passed over the little humours, proper to her as a beauty and a spoiled child, with the kindness of an indulgent brother; was amused with her artlessness, and delighted with her gaiety. Gradually he began to find his own fireside lonely, and the parties of the neighbourhood boisterous; the little parlour of the miller formed just the happy medium, quietness without solitude, and society without dissipation-and thither he resorted accordingly. His spaniel Ranger, taking possession of the middle of the hearth-rug, just as comfortably as if in his master's own demesnes, and Katy's large tabby cat, a dog-hater by profession, not merely submitting to the usurpation, but even ceasing to erect her bristles on his approach. So the world waned for three months more. One or two little miffs had, indeed, occurred between the parties; once, for instance, at a fair held in the next town on the first of May, Katy having been frightened at the lions and tigers painted outside a show, had nevertheless been half-led, half-forced into the booth to look at the real living monsters, by her ungallant beau. This was a sad offence. But unluckily our village damsel had been so much entertained by some monkeys and parrots on her first entrance, that she quite forgot to be frightened, and afterwards when confronted with the royal brutes, had taken so great a fancy to a beautiful panther, as to wish to have him for a pet; so that this quarrel passed away almost as soon as it began. The second was about the colour of a riband, an election riband; Katy having been much caught by the graceful person and gracious manners of a country candidate, who called to request her father's vote, had taken upon herself to canvass their opposite neighbour, and was exceedingly astonished to find her request refused, on no better plea, than a difference from her favourite in political opinion, and a previous promise to his opponent. The little beauty, astonished at her want of influence, and rendered zealous by opposition, began to look grave, and parties would certainly have run high at Hatherford, had not her candidate put a stop to the dispute, by declining to come to the poll. So that the quarrel was, per force, pretermitted. At last, a real and serious anxiety overclouded Katy's innocent happiness; and as it often happens, in this world of contradictions, the grievance took the form of a gratified wish. Of all her relations, her cousin Sophy Maynard had long been her favourite. She was an intelligent unaffected young woman, a few years older than herself; the daughter of a London tradesman, excellently brought up, with a great deal of information and taste, and a total absence of airs and finery. In person, she might almost be called plain, but there was such a natural gentility about her; her manners were so pleasing, and her conversation so attractive, that few people after passing an evening in her society remem bered her want of beauty. She was exceed ingly fond of the country, and of her pretty cousin, who, on her part, looked up to her Iwith much of the respectful fondness of a young sister, and had thought to herself a hundred times, when most pleased with their new neighbour, "how I wish my cousin Sophy could see Edward Grey!" and now that her cousin Sophy had seen Edward Grey, poor Katy would have given all that she pos-, sessed in the world, if they had never met. They were heartily delighted with each other, and proclaimed openly their mutual good opinion. Sophy praised Mr. Grey's vivacity; Edward professed himself enchanted with Miss Maynard's voice. Each was astonished to find in the other, a cultivation unusual in that walk of life. They talked, and laughed, and sang together, and seemed so happy that Katy, without knowing why, became quite miserable, flew from Edward, avoided Sophy, shrank away from her kind father, and found no rest or comfort, except when she could creep alone to some solitary place, and give vent to her vexation in tears. Poor Katy!, she could not tell what ailed her, but she was quite sure that she was wretched; and then she cried again. In the meanwhile, the intimacy between the new friends became closer and closer. There was an air of intelligence between them that, might have puzzled wiser heads than that of our simple miller-maiden. A secret-Could it be a love secret? And the influence of the gentleman was so open and avowed, that Sophy, when on the point of departure, consented to prolong her visit to Hatherford, at his request, although she had previously resisted Katy's solicitations, and the hospitable, urgency of her father. several colours," making the banks as gay as a garden. It was impossible not to pause in this lovely spot; and Sophy, who had been collecting a bright bunch of pink blossoms, the ragged-robin, the wild rose, the crane's-bill, and the fox-glove, or, to use the prettier Irish name of that superb plant, the fairy-cap, ap- › pealed to Katy to read a lecture of her, country art," and show "what every flower, as country people hold, did signify." A talent for which the young maid of the mili was as celebrated as Bellario. But poor Katy, who declined Edward's offered arm, had loitered a little behind, gathering a long wreath of the woodbine, and the briony, and the wild vetch, was, or pretended to be, deeply engaged in twisting the garland round her straw bonnet, and answered not a word. She tied on her bonnet, however, and stood by listening, whilst the other two continued to talk of the symbolic meaning of flowers, quoting the well-known lines from the Winter's Tale, and the almost equally charming passage from Philaster. At length Edward, who, during the conversation, had been gathering all that he could collect of the tall almond-scented tufts of the elegant meadow-sweet, whose crested blussoms arrange themselves in a plumage so richly delicate, said, holding up his nose gay. "I do not know what mystical interpretation may be attached to this plant in Katy's coun-i try art,' but it is my favourite amongst flowers; and if I were inclined to follow the east-¦ ern manner of courtship, and make love by a nosegay, I should certainly send it to plead my cause. And it shall be so," he added, after a short pause, his bright and sudden smile illumining his whole countenance; ** the botanical name signifies, the Queen of the! Affairs were in this posture, when one fine Meadow, and wherever I offer this tribute.; evening, towards the end of June, the cousins wherever I place this tuft, the homage of my ļ sallied forth for a walk, and were suddenly heart, the proffer of my hand shall go also. joined by Edward Grey, when at such a dis- 'Oh, that the offering might find favour wita tance from the house, as to prevent the pos- my queen!" Katy heard no more. sibility of Katy's stealing back thither, as had turned away to a little bay formed by the been her usual habit on such occasions. The rivulet, where a bed of pebbles, overhung by, path they chose, led through long narrow a grassy bank, afforded a commodicus seat, meadows, sloping down, on either side, to the and there she sat her down, trembling, ec ́d, winding stream, enclosed by high hedges, and wretched; understanding for the hrst and, seemingly, shut out from the world. time her own feelings, and wondering if any body in all the world had ever been so unhappy before. A pleasant walk it was, through those newly-mown meadows, just cleared of the hay, with the bright rivulet meandering through banks so variously beautiful; now fringed by rushes and sedges; now bordered by little thickets of hawthorn, and woodbine, and the briar-rose; now overhung by a pollard ash, or a silver-barked beech, or a lime-tree in full blossom. Now a smooth turfy slope, green to the eye, and soft to the foot; and now again a rich embroidery of the golden flag, the purple willow-herb, the blue forget-menot, and “a thousand fresh-water flowers of She There she sat, with the tears rolling down her cheeks, unconsciously making rings of rushes that grew thereby," and Edward's dig Ranger, who had been watching a shoal of minnows at play in the shallow water, and every now and then inserting his huge paw into the stream, as if trying to catch one, i came to her, and laid his rough head, and his į long curling brown ears into her lap, and looked at her with "eyes whose human meaning did not need the aid of speech"-eyes full of pity and of love; for Ranger, in com- to look at, it is somewhat dangerous to meet, mon with all the four-footed world, loved especially in a narrow lane; and I thought Katy dearly; and now he looked up in her myself very fortunate one day last August, face, and licked her cold hand. Oh! kinder in being so near a five-barred gate, as to be and faithfuller than your master, thought poor enabled to escape from a cortége of labourers, Katy, as, with a fresh gush of tears, she laid and harvest-wagons, sufficiently bulky and her sweet face on the dog's head, and sat in noisy to convoy half the wheat in the parish. that position, as it seemed to her, for ages, On they went, men, women, and children, whilst her companions were hooking and shouting, laughing, and singing in joyous exlanding some white water-lilies. pectation of the coming harvest-home; the very wagons nodding from side to side, as if tipsy, and threatening every moment to break down bank, and tree, and hedge, and crush every obstacle that opposed them. It would have been as safe to encounter the car of Juggernaut; I blest my stars; and after leaning on the friendly gate until the last gleaner had passed, a ragged rogue of seven years old, who, with hair as white as flax, a skin as brown as a berry, and features as grotesque as an Indian idol, was brandishing his tuft of wheat-ears, and shrieking forth, in a shrill childish voice, and with a most ludicrous gravity, the popular song of " Buy a broom!" At last they approached, and she arose hastily and trembling, and walked on, anxious to escape observation. "Your garland is loose, Katy," said Edward, lifting his hand to her bonnet: "Come and see how nicely I have fastened it! No clearer mirror than the dark smooth basin of water, under those hazels! Come!" He put her hand under his arm, and led her thither; and there, when mechanically she cast her eyes on the stream, she saw the rich tuft of meadow-sweet, the identical Queen of the Meadow, waving like a plume, over her own straw bonnet: felt herself caught in Edward's arms; for between surprise and joy, she had well-nigh fallen; and when, with instinctive modesty, she escaped from his embrace, and took refuge with her cousin, the first sound that she heard was Sophy's affectionate whisper, "I knew it all the time, Katy! every body knew it but you! and the wedding must be next week, for I have promised Edward to stay and be bride'smaid" and the very next week they were married. DORA CRESWELL. after watching this young gentleman, (the urchin is of my acquaintance) as long as a curve in the lane would permit, I turned to examine in what spot chance had placed me, and found before my eyes another picture of rural life, but one as different from that which I had just witnessed, as the Arcadian peasants of Poussin, from the Boors of Teniers, or weeds from flowers, or poetry from prose. I had taken refuge in a harvest-field belonging to my good neighbour, Farmer Creswell; a beautiful child lay on the ground at some little distance, whilst a young girl, resting from the labour of reaping, was twisting a rustic wreath of enamelled corn-flowers, brilliant poppies, snow-white lilybines, and light fragile harebells, mingled with tufts of the richest wheat-ears, around its hat. Few things are more delightful than to saunter along these green lanes of ours, in the busy harvest-time; the deep verdure of There was something in the tender youththe hedge-rows, and the strong shadow of fulness of these two innocent creatures, in the trees, contrasting so vividly with the the pretty, though somewhat fantastic, occufields, partly waving with golden corn, partly pation of the girl, the fresh wild-flowers, the studded with regular piles of heavy wheat-ripe and swelling corn that harmonized with sheaves; the whole population abroad; the the season and the hour, and conjured up whole earth teeming with fruitfulness, and memories of "Dis and Proserpine," and of the bright autumn sun careering over-head, all that is gorgeous and graceful, in old myamidst the deep-blue sky, and the fleecy thology; of the lovely Lavinia of our own clouds of the most glowing, and least fickle poet, and of that finest pastoral of the world, of the seasons. Even a solitary walk loses the far lovelier Ruth. But these fanciful asits loneliness in the general cheerfulness of sociations soon vanished before the real symnature. The air is gay with bees and butter-pathy excited by the actors of the scene, both flies; the robin twitters from amongst the of whom were known to me, and both objects ripening hazel-nuts; and you cannot proceed of a sincere and lively interest. a quarter of a mile, without encountering some merry group of leasers, or some long line of majestic wains, groaning under their rich burthen, brushing the close hedges on either side, and knocking their tall tops against the overhanging trees; the very image of ponderous plenty. Pleasant, however, as such a procession is 2 B 18* The young girl, Dora Creswell, was the orphan niece of one of the wealthiest yeomen in our part of the word, the only child of his only brother; and having lost both her parents whilst still an infant, had been reared by her widowed uncle as fondly and carefully as his own son Walter. He said that he loved her quite as well, perhaps he loved her better; for |