architectural display, it suffered by contrast with some of the beautiful and elegant mansions of his neighbours, but nevertheless, as a gentleman's residence, it possessed every requisite for the comfort of its owner and the generous entertainment of his friends. ́ What havoc the last half century has made in that once beautiful and picturesque village! Within a mile or so of the shore, the spectator then gazed on a vast expanse of water, woodland, and mountain scenery. People who delighted in seeing farther than their neighbours, used to point out the distant hills of Cumberland and Yorkshire; the Calf of Man they asserted to be visible, even to the spur on his heel; and the frowning mountains of Flintshire and Denbighshire, which streak the horizon in the west, were triumphantly referred to as a proof that the denizens of Everton were high in the world. And they were so, literally and figuratively. A poet of no mean celebrity-one whom Sir Robert Peel has deemed worthy of a pension, declared to the writer, only recently, that in the course of a long experience he had seen few sweeter places than Everton was when he resided there thirty years ago. Nay, a late popular novelist has gone even beyond this, and declared, traveller as he was, that Everton was the prettiest village in the world! The stranger will be sorely perplexed to discover such beauty in the black, begrimed, unsightly mass of buildings that now bears the name. The great democracy has trenched on the aristocratic lawn, and the stately

mansion has acquired, by contiguity, a vulgar tinge. The onward progress of society is read in the rise and metamorphosis of Everton. Commerce is a sore destroyer of sylvan beauty. The merchant, from his residence on the brow of the hill, overlooking, by its commanding elevation, the entrance of a noble river, may still catch a glimpse of his incoming and outgoing argosies, as they are borne to and fro on the bosom of the Mersey; but in the valley below, the verdant meadows that formerly stretched to the water's edge, filling the air in spring with the delicious fragrance of the hawthorn, and in summer with the not less grateful odour of new mown hay, have given place to crowded streets, smoky factories, and the tall chimnies whose chemical exhalations have long since put to flight the poetry and beauty, the exclusiveness and splendour, in which Everton once gloried. Viewed from that grassy vale, and more particularly towards the close of day, the hill itself presented a strikingly attractive appearance. The numerous windows of the handsome houses that adorned its side, glittering with the rays of the setting sun, and gorgeous in their brilliancy, contrasted beautifully with the dark clumps of trees and bright patches of green sward that diversified the slope. Crowning the summit, and about the spot where the church has since been built, stood the beacon, which, though remarkable for antiquity rather than for beauty, formed a pleasing object in the landscape.

The party assembled at the house of Mr. Rose

bourne was a mixed one. It consisted of a few adults, the near relatives or most intimate friends of the host, and a large number of young persons, of both sexes, who had just been relieved by the midsummer holidays from the mysteries of Euclid and the tortuosities of Latin. They came with a keen and hearty zest for enjoyment, to which their peals of laughter bore frequent testimony. After a merry dance on the lawn, they had been hurried in by the good old man at the first approach of twilight, lest the heavy night dews might bring repentance on the morrow, and were now continuing their amusement with a wondrous activity, that defied even the relaxing influence of summer heat; nimbly pursuing the evolutions of the mazy cotillon, or tripping down the long avenue of the country dance, or occasionally varying the scene by displaying their newly taught graces in the stately minuet. Everything seemed in unison with the gay hearts of the little revellers. The rooms were gaily decorated for the festivity; the lights burned brightly, and happiness seemed, for the time, to have taken up her abode on the premises, not at all anxious to quit such comfortable quarters.

Watching the dancers with delighted interest, stood a sweet girl, whose expressive face, dimpled with good humour, declared how heartily she sympathised in their mirth. Matilda Carlos partook of her uncle's fondness for children; they exercised an irresistible fascination on a heart so frank and unsophisticated,

and whenever she was compelled, in extreme cases, to utter a gentle reproof, her fair countenance was sure to break forth into smiles before its conclusion. And a very fair countenance it was, glowing with health, and indicative of a generous and noble nature. Her eyes were of that peculiar hazel that seem to vary with every passing emotion; sometimes of a melting softness; at others wearing an earnest, thoughtful look beneath their long, dark lashes; and often so sparkling with animation, that you would wager unhesitatingly they were the most brilliant black eyes you had ever seen. Her open brow and finely chiselled lips bespoke firmness and integrity of purpose. These charms of feature and expression, joined to one, perhaps, more attractive than all-a musical, persuasive voice, generally secured at once the love and confidence of all who approached her. And as she stood there, leaning on the arm of her cousin, Mr. Rosebourne's favourite nephew, and attired in a simple dress of white muslin, suitable to the occasion and to her own artless unaffected style of beauty, her uncle's guests thought they had seldom beheld so graceful and perfect a creature.

"Ha! my dear young friend, you are engaged as usual, I see, seeking for pleasure in the happiness of others!"

Matilda, aroused from her contemplation by the well-known voice, turned round instantly, and with a look full of affectionate respect, extended her

hand to the gentleman who had addressed her, and whose benevolent and highly intellectual aspect denoted a mind of no ordinary stamp. It was no other, in fact, than the accomplished historian of the Medici, a man of whom Liverpool has long been proud, and whose literary talents, liberal views, and comprehensive philanthropy, have thrown a halo around the place of his birth.

"My dear Mr. Roscoe, I am most happy to see you." Then blushing as she recollected the slight compliment he had paid her, she continued, "It certainly gives me great satisfaction to see these children enjoying themselves; but how much are you to be envied, my dear sir, who have not only the desire but the power of bestowing delight and instruction on the world!"

She glanced archly at Mr. Roscoe as she spoke, who shook his head deprecatingly. But she knew his innate modesty, which recoiled from all complimentary allusion to himself. His fine, manly, capacious heart, which embraced the world in its sympathy, irrespective of colour or clime, had not a particle of vanity in its composition. Unlike certain pigmy braggarts, the victims of an offensive and sickening egotism, begotten of vanity and fed by spleen, this intellectual giant, with his noble ardour, his spiritualised vigour, his infantine cheerfulness and simplicity, shrunk, like the sensitive plant, at the slightest breath of incense. But his fair friend, with all her gentleness, had a latent