in, whipped into the world several pupils who had done him much honour, and contributed, as well by their example as by sending their children in turn to his "Academy," to raise his reputation and increase his income.

His family, independently of the little boys, consisted of a wife and daughter.-Heaven had blessed him with three children, but one only survived; and as is seldom the case when a mortality occurs in a family, she that was spared was the flower of the flock. She was perfectly fascinating, and yet she was not what young novel readers would call a heroine; for she had little pretension, although her talents and accomplishments would have justified an abundance of airs, and a confidence in herself, to which she was a perfect stranger.

Mrs. Rodney, her mother, was a lady exemplary and domestic, and as methodical and mechanical in all her movements, as if she actually had been wound up at seven o'clock in the morning to go through certain evolutions until eleven o'clock in the evening. She was always at the breakfast-table to see the boys fairly served with their plank-like pieces of bread and butter, and jorums of milk. She always carved their dinners; during which ceremony she dressed herself in a peculiarly constructed apron with a bib and sleeves. In the due execution of this office she properly apportioned the fat and the lean, administered with care the lumps of preparatory pudding, and produced ninety-two cuts from every shoulder of full-grown mutton which was sent to table.

She again presided at supper in the hall; and when the little boys went to bed she did duty as mother to them, and every evening received their parting kisses. In short, never did she rest until ten o'clock; when Mr. Rodney, relieved from the cares of the day, regularly supped in his own parlour in the bosom of his family, leaving to all his tender charges the delights of sleep, and the smell of his evening repast, with which the air of the great hall and staircase was always savouily scented.

One poor boy, indeed, fared differently from the rest

of Rodney's pupils, and when his son died, seemed as it were, in some measure, to repair the loss. This boy was called Francis Welsted; he was the orphan child of an old friend of Rodney's, who had died in distressed circumstances, and Rodney brought the boy home, and reared him as if he had been his own, even while he had a son himself. Surely it was not unnatural, when the pride of his heart was snatched from him, that he should love this little orphan better than he did before, and better than he loved any of his fellows, for he had been the favourite friend and constant companion of his own poor William, had shared with him the favours of the parlour and the delights of Mrs Rodney's tea-table; and when his playmate died, Welsted still kept his place at the domestic board, although his co-mate had been taken away; and time rolled on, and Francis grew; and, as it was but plain and natural that in time he would,-Francis became a man. From the first form boy he rose to the sixth form; and thence, unconsciously, having no other pursuit, no other home, no other prospects, at length became usher to Mr. Rodney, at Somerville House; in which capacity my reader is destined to find him on the day of his introduction, seated in his wonted place, enjoying the calm delights of the Rodney circle, and the prescribed tumbler of red wine negus, which was nocturnally swallowed by each of the gentlemen, Mrs. Rodney and Fanny dividing the third goblet between them:-all such goblets having been prepared with infinite care and regularity by the elder of the two ladies herself.

Mrs. Rodney was a pattern of excellence, but she had a few peculiarities;-one consisted in always speaking the truth and the whole truth, regardless of circumstances or consequences; and the other, in never permitting any human being to be happy or comfortable under any circumstances whatever, at the same time wishing them with all her heart to be both. As for Rodney himself, he was, besides a schoolmaster, a poet, and had published a small volume of little ballads which had made a noise in certain circles. He was patronized

by a great lord resident in his neighbourhood, and what was much more important to a poet of his class, by a great lady; but then he talked poetry, which, although it was thought very fine in company, was somewhat tire'some in private life. Of this failing his daughter Fanny and his usher Welsted were quite aware, and occasionally, when he was "off at score," their eyes would meet, eyes will meet sometimes, and Fanny felt conscious that she was doing wrong, and Welsted felt that he was occasionally very near laughing in a wrong place; and yet Rodney saw not, felt not the absolute uselessness of walking on stilts over dry ground, the trick to which he was so mightily addicted.

"There's a viridity of intellect," said Rodney one evening after supper, "about young Brashleigh, Mr. Welsted, which is highly refreshing; a single-mindedness truly touching, a newness of sentiment in all his sayings, strongly excitatory of that agreeable feeling which it is hardly within the scope of language adequately to define !"

"Yes, sir," said Welsted, "he is a good, clever boy in his way.'

"It is not so much the intrinsic power of his mind," said (or rather sang) Rodney, "as its characteristics, which force themselves, as it were, upon our attention. There is an originality about him which reminds one of that beautiful expression of Goëthe when speaking of a gurl (so he pronounced it) fresh from the country, with all her rural recollections strong upon her, who sees for the first time a great and populous city. The timid thing, instead of being surprised at the vastitude of the multifarious objects by which she, poor tender passive creature, is environed, turns to her anxious parent with an air of hesitation, and one of those soul-fraught looks which convey, as it were, direct to the mind the whole sentiment of those by whom they are reflected, and she says, with all the modest simplicity inherent in a creature so genuine and new- Mother, I wish we were safe at home! There's a delicacy in the turn of that thought, and a knowledge of human naturr" (so he pronounced

it,)" which are quite captivating;-such is the intellectual originality of young Brashleigh!"

"He is a nice boy," said Mrs. Rodney; "but I'm sure something will happen to him; he'll never grow up to be a man."

"What reason, my dear Cordelia," said Rodney, "have you for so painful a supposition wherewith to cloud the brightness of his dawning life?"

Why, he is so clever ;-those clever children never come to good," said Mrs. Rodney.

"His grandfather is devotedly attached to him," said Rodney.

Who this grandfather was, time will show ;-whoever he might be, no sooner was his name mentioned than Mr. Welsted became suddenly and violently embarrassed, and in his agitation knocked the tea-spoon out of his glass of negus.

แ

"A very gallant officer is General Brashleigh," continued Rodney;- Sir Frederick Brashleigh I should rather call him, since I see he has received the chivalrous distinction of the Bath, and an appointment to a high command abroad."

"Going abroad is he?" said Mrs. Rodney; poor dear old gentleman!-then I'm sure he'll never come back again."

"These are gloomy presentiments, Mrs. Rodney," said her husband; "I see no particular reason why a man hale, hearty, and vigorous, as he is, should necessarily die at fifty-six."

"Sixty-five, Papa, I'm sure," said Fanny;-and immediately Welsted, who had recovered his spoon, began stirring the last few drops of his negus most assiduously, having screwed up his mouth as if apprehensive of some burst of passion from the head of the

house.

Young ladies," said Rodney, calmly, and placidly, "are no judges of such things.-I know what I talk of -he is under fifty-seven, and, as I before said,-full of that nervous manhood which so beautifully characterizes the warrior chief."

"I don't know whether he is nervous, Mr. Rodney," said his lady, "but I know he is very bilious at times; and as for his health-"

"Look at his face, Mrs. Rodney," said the pedagogue, who for some reason best known to himself became quite animated in the discussion; the roseate hue of health suffuses his cheek.'

Yes," said Mrs. Rodney, "he has got a red face at times, to be sure, but that's not health, Mr. Rodney, -it is too purple to be wholesome. Take my word for it, some of these fine mornings he'll pop off suddenly."

Welsted's eyes rested for a moment on Fanny's countenance, but she saw not their expression. There was a mystery somewhere, which I believe it is my duty to unravel for the entertainment (it may be) of my readers; but perhaps time and patience will do that piece of service for us.

It should be known,-for localities are most important things, and as absolutely necessary to the conduct of a tale, as painted scenery to the performance of a drama, -that there was, lying contiguous to Somerville House Academy, a close, or field, containing eight acres, there or thereabouts, more or less, which close was bounded on its northern side by the wall of the church-yard,one of the neatest and prettiest church-yards in Christendom. The path through this hallowed receptacle of earthly vanity was sheltered by thick umbrageous trees, and when the moon-for what is a grove without a moon? "threw her refulgent light" around, Fanny Rodney, whose taste did not lie amongst slices of bread and butter, (though Werter's Charlotte's did,) was accustomed to stroll through these lonely walks, while the rising generation in her father's house were preparing for bed by stuffing themselves with their substantial supper.

Unfortunately, perhaps, but as they then thought fortunately, the very hour at which this meal was partaken of by the boys, was that at which Francis Welsted was first released from his scholastic duties; for Mrs. Rodney was considered by all parties perfectly adequate to the superintendance of the feeding, and Mr. Rodney,