press'd great surprise at sight of him -it being about the usual hour of his dining.

He inform'd them, that certain circumstances had occurr'd, which render'd his longer stay at the Hall improper: that it was time he should exert the faculties Heaven had given him, which would free him from a state of dependence, and that he meant to commence his journey towards London, next morning.

"What," cried the old woman, jumping up, and clasping her hands," thee dost not mean to leave us, Philip."

"I must, my dear aunt; my duty calls me from you."

"Thy duty it can never be thy duty to break an old woman's heart; and, I be mortal sure, that will be the end on't, if thee do go.

"Doant'ee leave us," said Barnaby; "deame do love thee, as though thee were her own son."

"I should be a monster of ingratitude, could I doubt her love, or your's.

But,

cease to importune me, where necessity for

bids me to listen. My pride has been wounded, to the quick."

"Nature will break out-it be all nonsense to try to keep it under; it will show itself, like a Will-o'-th'-wisp, in a dark night," cried Susan.

"I have been reproach'd with my dependent state; have been gall'd with........ Well, well, no matter; 'tis true, I ought not to have needed reminding, that the manner in which I have past the last five years, has ill become one of my humble birth."

What, has any one dar'd to say, thee art base-born?" interrupted Susan, coloring with indignation. Marry-come-up!

I could tell them, thee art, perhaps, of a better stock than any in the parish. Don't'ee Barny Treadaway, be making ugly faces at me, to hold my tongue-for, I wunt—I wunt, I tell 'ee."

Philip look'd astonishment.

"For Heaven's sake! explain the meaning of your mysterious words!" said he. "You have, before, fill'd me with curiosity, by various expressions, which have fallen from you, and that curiosity is, now, raised

to a pitch beyond endurance. What am I to conceive, from all this?"

"That you are no nephew of our's!No son of Barnaby's sister, Esther Tra

vers."

"Indeed! whose son am I, then?" eagerly demanded the youth, on the tiptoe of expectati on.

But, all his hopes fell to the ground, when Susan replied, in a tone of disappoint

ment

"I can't tell. Thee were brought here, in a strange way, when thee were in arms; and Barnaby were threaten'd to be put to death, if ever he blabb'd about the matter; but, roight's roight, and you mustn't leave us, without knowing that thee art not thyself. Barny, do thee tell the story."

Barnaby rehearsed the principal events of the first chapter of this volume-while Philip

"With a greedy ear, devour'd up his discourse,"

and, having made a conclusion, Susan went

to an old chest-of-drawers, and took out a miniature, which she gave her adopted nephew. It was the portrait of a young and most beautiful woman; and, at the back, was a plait of auburn hair, with the letters L. M, in pearl.

"Of whom is this the resemblance?" demanded young Travers; and, again, the unsatisfactory reply, "I don't know," grated on his ear. His aunt told him, that, amongst the linen which old Barnaby brought with him, from on board the vessel, was that picture; and that she would advise him to keep it, as it might be the means of discovering who his parents were."

Philip knelt between the old couple, and kiss'd a hand of each, while he blest them for their disinterested kindness; at which, the farmer look'd somewhat sheepish and when the young man offer'd them a hundred pounds, as a third of his pecuniary possessions, the dame positively refused to accept a doit, avowing herself his debtor in, at least, a moiety of that sum; which, as may be imagined, was rejected. At length, after

many embraces, and much lamentation on the part of the old woman, Philip departed for Walter Hardyman's cottage.

If he had not declared his intended journey, without evident internal perturbation, at his last place of calling, it was with threefold difficulty he made it known, there; and, when he had so done, the sympathetic girl threw herself into his arms, and sobb'd on his shoulder.

"Damn it! Rachel, said the honest yeoman, "don't take on in this way. Philip will come back, and you will, both, be happy-I know it-there's something that tells me, you will; or, rather than you shall be made miserable, I'll give him half my stock, and, hey, for Oakendale church, immediately!"

"To that proposition I must beg leave to object," quoth Travers. "You cannot, Rachel, nor your father, doubt my wish to call you mine; every action of my life must be stimulated by the desire of rendering myself worthy of the blessing of your hand. But, I cannot forget what is due to myself. The transactions of this day have open'd