and appreciating her worth. He certainly would have preferred that a greater share of literary attainments had placed her more upon an equality with himself as a companion; but he liked her so well that when he quitted Larch Hills for Edinburgh with Mr. Maitland, in November, it was a settled thing, and understood by all the family that when he took possession of the manse of Kirkfillan she stood pledged to become his wife.

When this event took place Ruth had about half completed her twenty-sixth year, and, as the session already mentioned was the last that Mr. Maitland attended in Edinburgh, both she and Mr. M'Neil had ample time to ascertain whether continued domestic association was likely to increase or diminish their regard for each other. With so much real excellence on both sides the latter was scarcely to be apprehended; and Ruth's meek and affectionate disposition soon led her to pay as much deference to the tastes and opinions of her future husband as if he already held that character. Nor had Mr. M'Neil the want of sense to hold her cheap on that account; he honoured alike the purity that thought not of concealment and the confidence that was above suspecting misconstruction.

The living of Kirkfillan was worth something more than three hundred a year, and Mr. M'Neil was possessed of the sum of one thousand pounds advantageously invested, which he was able to leave untouched, because Ruth was mistress of three hundred pounds, which she was anxious should be employed in furnishing the manse, a neat and commodious dwelling-house, though neither spacious nor modern.

And how became Ruth possessed of this sum? for, though she enjoyed at Larch Hills the liberal salary of one hundred guineas per annum, her whole receipts during the seven years and a half in which she had relied upon her own exertions did not amount to four hundred pounds. By economy, Miss Crofts' legacy, and the active kindnesss of Mrs. Somerive. That lady had soon penetrated the characters and understood the conduct of the Watsons; and, stating that she had sometimes opportunities of employing money to advantage, had offered to take the management of Ruth's savings, and to be answerable for their security. No objection could be openly made to such an offer, and it was accordingly acted upon.

Lady Maitland took her daughters and Ruth to Edinburgh for a fortnight, where the latter procured the few additions she thought necessary to her wardrobe, and purchased such articles of furniture as could be better or more reasonably procured there than at the county town. The young ladies stocked her poultry-yard, and their mamma her linen-press. Mrs. Somerive sent a dinner and tea set, and her parents a silver coffee-pot. The Hursts contributed many little articles, more ornamental perhaps than useful, but showing good will. Mr. Maitland presented his tutor with an excellent horse, and Sir Kenneth made valuable additions to his library.

The warm and well-merited attachment of Flora and Diana to their governess was not to be satisfied with the little offering already mentioned; and it was equally demonstrative of the strength of their regard and the delicacy of their feelings that at their instigation it

was proposed that she should be succeeded by her sister. Ruth was not without her misgivings; but she knew little of Isabella, and however probable it might be that there had been some want of patience and forbearance, she never doubted her having been unfortunate in her situations.

Isabella and her parents had no fears, and she reached Larch Hills a week before the wedding, in high spirits, with as many gay clothes as the shortness of the notice had allowed her to collect,and a substantial proof of the favour in which her succession was viewed in Throgmorton Street, in the shape of a silver tea-pot, cream-ewer, and sugar-bason, in addition to the parental present before mentioned.

The venerable father of Mr. M'Neil left his distant Highland home, on what he felt would be his last earthly pilgrimage, to perform the holy rite which was to unite an only and beloved son to the woman he had chosen as the partner of his life, bringing with him his young and amiable daughter.

All was delightful anticipation at Larch Hills.

66

"John," said Diana Maitland, the evening before the wedding, you are to be best man!" "Yes. Who is to be best maid?* It is time I should enquire," replied John, looking involuntarily at the beautiful Grace M'Neil. Oh! all of us." 66 Indeed!" said John, bowing profoundly, "four superlatives! four times more fortunate than I supposed myself to be. How shall I quarter my devotions? Miss M'Neil, will you instruct me?" " Nonsense, John, four bride's maids, which of us would you be so cruel as to leave out?" asked Flora.

The day arrived.-Half an hour before dinner the solemn ordinance was performed in the drawing-room at Larch Hills. Ruth sat down to dinner Mrs. M'Neil, took possession of the manse in the evening, two days afterwards received her venerable father-in-law and the lovely Grace as her visitors for a week, at the end of which time they returned to the Highlands; she entered upon her domestic and Isabella upon her didactic duties.

(To be continued.)

MISADVENTURES OF A LOVER.

CHAP. II.

(Continued from page 551 of vol. xx.)

THE only daughter of Sir Robert S―, arrived on the 16th April, 182-, at the principal inn in one of the neighbouring towns. By chance I learnt several particulars respecting the young lady; and I ascertained, moreover, that her father was on the continent at the time, and that she had no other biped accompaniment than an ancient aunt. Report spoke of the baronet's daughter as a perfect beauty; as being heiress of an immense fortune; and as being withal remark

* Best man, best maid-Scottish terms for bridegroom's man, bride's maid.

1

ably affable and of easy access. Though the attribute of beauty had hitherto appeared to my mind as an essential ingredient in the cup of matrimonial bliss, I never thought the worse of any young lady because she had money. Indeed, as hinted in Chapter I., I had been so far lessoned in days that were past, as to the value of money, that I deemed a certain quantity of the circulating medium of paramount importance in journeying through life. On both accounts, therefore, I was most anxious to see the baronet's daughter, determined, in the event of my opinion according with the public report of her attractions, &c., to have a meeting with her by some means or other. I had read the week before "a full, true, and particular account" of the stratagems by which Edward Gibbon Wakefield contrived to get married to Miss Turner, and by which he gained an inestimable prize. (There was no word then of the prosecution and punishment which followed.) I meditated something of the same kind. In order, however, that there might be no hazard of being gulled touching her personal charms and prospective finances, I thought it best, before decoying her into a carriage, to have the evidence of my eyes as to the first point, and make under-hand enquiries as to the second. I knew there was no person in the inn who was acquainted with me. I therefore concluded I might without the least risk of detection assume any title, and play off any airs I pleased. Accordingly, I hired a horse and gig, and procured a confidential acquaintance, moving in a rather humbler sphere than myself, to whom I revealed my plans and views. He pronounced them "excellent," "spirited," and so forth, and at once agreed to personate the character of my body-servant. I took to myself the high-sounding title of Lord A-, thinking I would by that means have a greater chance of attracting the attention of the baronet's daughter. My servant and I entered the gig, which I drove with the spirit characteristic of the majority of young noblemen. In due time we arrived at the destined inn. We alighted-my servant first, who with infinite tact handed me down. I entered the inn, announcing my name as Lord A--. The intelligence that a nobleman had arrived spread through the house like wild-fire. Bows, curtsies, and every mark of obsequious respect were showered on me at every step. My servant once committed himself, and was likely to have committed me, by saying "Eh!" instead of "my lord." "Sirrah," said I, as there were several persons present, "I will teach you manners;" and so saying, I applied my cane with considerable apparent force to his person, but in reality very gently. He submitted to the physical correction with perfect equanimity, saying, with a tact which exceeds all praise, "I beg your pardon, my Lord."

I had not been many minutes upstairs when I learned that the heiress was "out" seeing some of the beautiful scenery with which the district abounds; but she was expected to return in a few hours. Lest our incognito should be discovered by some officious chanceperson putting up at the inn, who knew me, I thought it advisable, instead of vegetating in the hotel, to go out an airing. I immediately commanded the hostler to get my horse and gig ready. The order was no sooner given than obeyed. In a second, self and ser

:

vant were driving out of town. When we proceeded two miles, we came in sight of K- Abbey, an old venerable ruin. To have gone to it by the usual circuitous route would have been a distance of three miles by crossing one or two intervening fields of grass, the distance would not have been a mile and a half. I have always hated round-about roads. I therefore decided in favour of driving through the fields. We had not proceeded above a quarter of a mile when, owing I suppose to too rapid and careless driving, we upset the gig by coming in contact with a fragment of an old broken turf dyke. The contents of course were "spilled." The contusion, in so far as I was concerned, was dreadful. The shock of a Lisbon earthquake could scarcely have been greater. For half an hour afterwards I lay horizontally on the ground, quite insensible. On partially recovering my consciousness, I found the gig lying in myriads of pieces all around me. A more striking picture of destruction I have never witnessed. No horse or servant was to be seen. Let the reader only judge of my feelings, when, in addition to my broken bones, a sense of what I had done broke in on my mind. My servant-the rogue was little hurt-my servant, I afterwards learned, took one direction, and the horse another. I was left "alone in my glory”—such as it was-to live or die, just as "sovereign Fate" was pleased to ordain. The four-legged animal was so much frightened that he galloped all the way at his utmost speed back to the inn; the biped blockhead, the two-legged animal, instead of waiting, as any man with an atom of "rumgumption" in him would have done, to put the best possible face on the disaster, ran home without ever halting, and without uttering a syllable to human being touching what had occurred. The dunce's notion doubtless was, that possibly nobody might ever learn that he had figured in the foolish affair which had led to the awkward and tragical catastrophe.

The alarm which the horse, half-harnessed and " raised" as he was, created among the inhabitants of F-, as he 'galloped up to the hotel stables, fairly defies description. In less than ten minutes the idea spread through the whole town that some accident-it might be a fatal one-had happened to Lord A-. A shoal of the good people set out instantly in quest of me. I was found on the spot alluded to, able to converse a little, but altogether incapable of walking. An express-a two-legged one, because no other was to be had-was sent to the inn, to procure a carriage to carry home the young nobleman. Orders were at the same time given to get a doctor with all possible haste. The solicitude as to the extent of the damage done to my person evinced by all present was extreme; they absolutely vied with each other in showing attention to me. The carriage was not long in arriving. I was put into it, and conducted to the hotel, on my arrival at which I had a world of kind offices shown me. There was only one doctor who then practised in the town of F——, and he was at that time unfortunately twenty miles from home on a professional visit. What was to be done? Without my knowledge, an express was sent to E-, the town to which I belonged, demanding the immediate attention, on Lord A-, of two medical practitionIn an incredibly short space they were in my apartment. I

ers.

the room.

afterwards learned that, in the plenitude of his anxiety to give the nobleman the benefit of his professional skill, one of the doctors rode his horse so fast that the poor animal died in a few days afterwards. Judge of my surprise, judge of how queerly I felt, in more senses than one, when the two sons (my townsmen) of Esculapius entered In a state of all but utter petrifaction, I lay on my bed before them. Conceive, reader, if you are fit for the task; conceive their astonishment and mortification when, on being ushered, with all the pomp and show of circumstance, into my apartment, they beheld, instead of Lord A—, me stretched before them! They first looked at me, and then at each other, for some time, alternately, as if they did not know whether they ought not to doubt the evidence of their own eyes. So stupid an expression of countenance as that then exhibited by these disciples of Galen, was never before witnessed under the sun. Their mutual impression, on a little reflection, was that a gross and grievous hoax had been played off at their expense (alas! the expense fell on me!), and therefore they determined, before prescribing any thing for me, or even making the slightest inquiry into the extent or nature of the injury I had received, to demand an explanation of mine host. They luckily expressed this intention audibly. Concluding that this step would only make bad worse, I explained the circumstances, so far, to them; taking special care to lay the best share of the blame on my servant in the article of upsetting the gig, and also accusing him of having invented and applied to me the title of Lord A——.

When the circumstances of this adventure became known in E—— they proved, as will readily be believed, the occasion of infinite merriment to my fellow-townsmen. My only consolation was-a small one certainly that I was not the only person laughed at. Mine host, and the two physicians, all in short whom I had hoaxed in the business, came in severally for their share of public laughter.

I need not say there was nothing in the affair laughable to me. In so far as I was concerned, it was in many senses a serious matter. "It was long and many a day" before I recovered from the effects of the upsetting of the gig; but in addition to my calamities in this respect, and the mortification consequent on the awkward issue of my schemes touching the abduction of the baronet's daughter, there came sundry heavy bills against me; the first from the gig and horse hirer; the second from Boniface; but the last and heaviest of all were those which came under the title of "fees" from the brace of Esculapians, particularly the one from the "practitioner" who murdered the horse by his furious riding. To all these "disagreeables"-enough in all conscience-there were superadded severe daily and hourly lectures on my folly, read to me by my relatives. My situation, in one word, was insufferable: the mortal did not, nor does exist, who could have borne it. I left the town of Eruptly one moon-light evening. In ten days thereafter I was in the town of Carlisle.

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