was in Jennet's dormitory. What was to be done? Kilvert proposed that himself, Stephen, and another, should occupy the second bed. Three others agreed to make shift with the bedstead, seeing that there was a larger number than usual at home that night, besides the unexpected arrival of Kilvert and his companion. Thus six out of the nine were provided for. A seventh, who was already snoring upon one of the stone settles, was left to finish his night where he had begun it. Jennet occupied her own bed; so what became of the eighth, but here we must be allowed to borrow an expressive phrase of writers who, when they are overwhelmed with the magnitude of a situation ineffably pathetic, say it can "be more easily imagined than described."

This distribution was forthwith carried into effect. Stephen followed Kilvert and the darkhaired, pale-faced gentleman we have described, up a crazy staircase into a room larger than that they had quitted, in one corner of which stood the spare bed. After several ineffectual

efforts, amid much obstreperous mirth, to set at defiance all the principles of geometry, by making a superficies of seventeen inches, equal to the reception of one of five-and-twenty, the miracle was at last performed; and fatigue, drink, and the drowsy hour, soon "rocked their senses," despite their lack-comfort couch. In the morning, however, it was quite clear to Kilvert he had been at the trouble of providing himself, during the night, with a more commodious one; for, upon waking, he found he was lying under the bed, instead of upon the edge, where he had balanced himself to go to sleep.

And here, having conducted Stephen to the end of his journey, before we relate what afterwards befel him at Black Rock, we must attend two other persons upon a very different kind of one, the history of which will be found no less importantly connected with "coming events."

CHAPTER XI.

Fly, fly, profane fogs! far hence fly away,
Taint not the pure streams of the springing day,
With your dull influence.

CRASHAW.

Ir was about three months after Miss Bagot had become a part of Sir Everton's family, that a day was finally fixed for the return of his son Cameron from Oxford, in company with Mr. Aston, a fellow collegian, between whom and Cameron a more than fraternal regard had grown up.

"I have too often heard you speak of Mr. Aston," observed the Baronet in one of his letters to his son, 66 I not to feel anxious for an opportunity of cultivating an intimate acquaintance with a person who possesses much of your esteem and confidence. Pray,

therefore bring him with you; and stipulate, in my name, that he shall pass his Christmas with us."

Edward Aston was of patrician descent, and though not the lineal heir to the Barony of Astonford, it would devolve to him upon the death of his father, should the actual possessor of it quit the world without direct issue.

That he was likely to do so, was more than probable, considering he was not only in his eighty-fifth year, but had never yet been married. Lord Astonford had been jilted, as he considered, by a young lady of great beauty, and rank equal to his own, after the very day was fixed for celebrating the nuptials. His lordship, to be sure, had passed his grand climacterick at the time, while the lady had not passed her teens; but he was not therefore one whit the less indignant when he heard that she had eloped with a handsome young officer, in preference to accepting himself and title.

When it was known at the hall that Cameron was expected, and was not to return again to the University, the tidings specially

gladdened the hearts of Mr. Flinn, and Mrs.

Kilpin.

“I used to carry the young Squire a-picka-back," observed the former; "when he was a little hop-o'-my-thumb fellow, not much bigger than the ale-jack, and I love him as if he were my own flesh and blood !”

"And I," said the latter, "remember the day he was breeched, and how he strutted down the gravel-walk to the fish-pond, and how his dear little foot slipped, and how he must have gone souse into it, if it had not pleased Providence to let him tumble backwards instead of forwards."

We cannot, however, bring the "Young Squire" and his friend to Azledine Hall, by a mere stroke of our pen; we shall, therefore, absent ourselves awhile from the place where they were expected, to accompany them thither from the place whence they came.

It was about as comfortless a morning, in the beginning of December, when they set forth, as ever drizzled disappointment into a pair of gentlemen, who had settled it over