He will let us have it for nothing, Father! He says it would be hiring it out, and he can't do that; but he would esteem it a great favour if we would go in it, and not pay anything, except just a shilling to Harris for a pint of beer. Won't it be jolly, Father?' 'Spicy would be more appropriate,' said Mr. Underwood, laughing, as the vehicle in question drew up at the shop door, with Mr. Harper's name and all his groceries inscribed in gold letters upon the awning.

'I'm so glad I thought of Harper's,' continued Felix. I asked him instead of Buff, because I knew Mamma would want it to be covered. Now there's lots of room; and we boys will walk up all the hills.'

'I hope there is room for me, Felix,' suggested Mr. Audley.

'Or,' suggested Mr. Underwood, 'you might, like John Gilpin, "ride on horseback after we."'

'Felix looks non-content,' said Mr. Audley.. 'I am afraid I was not in his programme. Speak out-let us have it.'

'Why,' said Felix, looking down, 'our little ones all wanted to have you; but then we thought we should all be obliged to come home too soon, unless you took the service for Papa.'

'He certainly ought not to go to church after it,' said Mr. Audley; 'but I can settle that by riding home in good time. What's the day?' The day after the girls' break-up, if you please,' said Felix, still not perfectly happy, but unable to help himself; and manifesting quite enough reluctance to make his father ask, as soon as they had parted, what made him so ungracious.

'Only, Papa,' said Felix frankly, that we know that you and he will get into some Church talk, and then you'll be of no use; and we wanted to have it all to ourselves.'

'Take care, Felix,' said Mr. Underwood; 'large families are apt to get into a state of savage exclusiveness.'

Felix had to bear the drawback, and the groans it caused from Wilmet, Edgar, and Fulbert: the rest decidedly rejoiced. And Mr. Underwood privately confided the objection to his friend, observing merrily that they would bind themselves by a promise not to talk shop throughout the expedition.

It was a brilliantly happy week. Pretty hats, bound with dark blue velvet, and fresh black silk jackets, were squeezed out of the four pounds, with the help of a few shillings out of the intended hire of the van, and were the glory of the whole family, both of those who were to wear them and those who were not.

On Saturday evening, just as the four elder young people were about to sally forth to do the marketing for their pic-nic, a great hamper made its appearance in the passage, addressed to F. C. Underwood, Esq., and with nothing to pay. Only there was a note fastened to the side, saying, 'Dear Felix, pray let the spicy van find room for my contribution to your pic-nic. I told my mother to send me what was proper from home. C. S. A.'

Mrs. Underwood was dragged out to superintend the unpacking, which she greatly advised should be merely a surface investigation. That was quite enough, however, to assure her that for Felix to lay in any provision, except the tea and the bread she had already promised, would be entirely superfluous. The girls were disappointed of their cookery; but derived consolation from the long walk with the brothers, in which a cake of good carmine and a lump of gamboge were purchased for Cherry, and two penny dolls for Robina and Angela. What would become of the rest of the pound?

On Sunday, the offertory was, as usual on ordinary occasions, rather scanty; but there was one half-sovereign; and Mr. Underwood was convinced that it had come from under the one white surplice that had still remained on the choir boys' bench.

He stayed in the vestry after the others to count and take care of the offerings, and as he took up the gold, he could not but look at his son, who was waiting for him, and who flushed all over as he met his eye. 'Yes, Papa, I wanted to tell you-I did grudge it at first,' he said hoarsely. 'I knew it was the tithe; but it seemed so much away from them all. I settled that two shillings was the tenth of my own share, and I would give that to-day; and then came Mr. Harper's kindness about the van; and next, when I was thinking how I could save the tenth part without stinting everybody, came all Mr. Audley's hamper. It is very strange and happy, Papa, and I have still something left.'

'I believe,' said Mr. Underwood, 'that you will find the considering the tithe as not your own, is the safest way of keeping poverty from grinding you, or wealth from spoiling you.'

And very affectionately he leant on his son's shoulder all the way home; while Mr. Audley was at luncheon at the Rectory with my Lady, and her twelve years old daughter.

'Mamma,' said Miss Price, 'did you see the Underwoods in new hats?' 'Of course I did, my dear. They were quite conspicuous enough; but when people make a great deal of their poverty, they always do break out in the most unexpected ways.'

They are pretty girls,' said the Rector, rather dreamily, and I suppose they must have new clothes sometimes."

'You will always find,' proceeded Lady Price without regard, 'that people of that sort have a wonderful eye to the becoming-nothing economical for them! I am sorry for Mr. Underwood, his wife is bringing up a set of fine ladies, who will trust to their pretty looks, and be quite above doing anything for themselves.'

'Do you think Wilmet and Alda Underwood so very pretty, Mr. Audley?' inquired Miss Price, turning her precocious eyes upon him. 'Remarkably so,' Mr. Audley replied, with the courteous setting-down tone that was the only thing that ever approached to subduing Miss Price, and which set her pouting without an answer.

'It is a great misfortune to girls in that station of life to have that

painted doll sort of beauty,' added my Lady; and what was it I heard about a pic-nic party?'

'No party, my dear,' replied the Rector, 'only a little fresh air for the family a day in the country park. Felix spends his birth-day present from his godfather in taking them.'

Ah! I always was sure they had rich friends, though they keep it so close. Never let me hear of their poverty after this.'

Answers only rendered it worse, so my Lady had it her own way, and not being known to the public in St. Oswald's Buildings, did not trouble them much. Yet there was a certain deference to public opinion there, when Alda was heard pouting, 'Felix, why did you go to that horrid Harper? Just fancy Miss Price seeing us!'

'Who cares for a stuck-up thing like Miss Price?' growled Felix.

'I don't care for her,' said Edgar; but it is just as well to have some notion of things, and Felix hasn't a grain. Why, all the fellows will be asking which of us is pepper, and which Souchong? I wouldn't have Froggatt or Senior see me in it at no price.'

'Very well, stay at home then,' said Felix.

'You could have had the waggonet from the Fortinbras Arms,' said Alda.

'Ay-for all my money and not for love.'

'Forshame, Alda,' said her twin sister, 'how can you be so ridiculous!' 'You know yourself, Wilmet, it is quite true; if any of the girls see us, we shall be labeled "The Groceries."

'Get inside far enough, and they will not see you.',

'Ay, but there'll be that disgusting little Bobbie and Lance sitting in the front, making no end of a row,' said Edgar; and the whole place will know that Mr. Underwood and his family are going out for a spree in old Harper's van! Pah! I shall walk!'

'So shall I,' said Alda, at least till we are out of the town; but that won't do any good if those children will make themselves so horridly conspicuous. Could not we have the thing to meet us somewhere out of town, Felix?'

'And how would you get Cherry there, or Mamma? Or Baby?—No, no, if you are too genteel for the van, you may walk.'

(To be continued.),

BERTRAM; OR, THE HEIR OF PENDYNE.

PART II.-CHAPTER VII.

THE Westerleigh coach-which had travelled up to London in the early mornings, returning at night, as though the whole country were not intersected in all directions with indications of another and an improved

method of conveyance-arrived one evening at the King's Arms, in the early autumn, and set down an unusual number of passengers from the roof.

Youngish persons they seemed to be, and well dressed; and they entered the hotel immediately, as though they had been expected. All, excepting one; who with more of hesitation in his manner went up to the waiter, and asked if he could have a bed.

This was the only one of the party with whom we have any acquaintance. He is known in the Exhibition Catalogue of this summer as the painter, 'R. Gray.'

'I believe so, Sir; I will inquire.' And the man was turning away. "Stay. Is it "the Season" at Westerleigh just now, that your hotel is so full?' asked the young artist.

'Well, Sir,' replied the man doubtfully, uncertain whether the facts of the case would warrant the application of the word, 'there is to be a wedding to-morrow; and the gentleman's friends have come down to our hotel, and well-nigh filled it up; but there will be a bed for you, Sir, no doubt.' And away went the waiter to inquire.

Robin stood in the door-way, and looked out upon the market-place. Unaltered in its general aspect, except a fancied contraction in the size. As to the details of name and trade, &c., his memory would not serve him. He looked to the left. There were the iron railings in front of the Doctor's house; the corner, where he had made in the dust one of his first essays in drawing; the door, where he had been told-though not so roughly as might be-that he was after no good.

Before him were the churchyard gates, and the church, from whence he and his sister had been hunted like dogs, and then with such touching kindness gathered in. Where was Miss Ryder now? and was she old and grey in the long space of these past ten years? And her father? He should like to see whether the name were still upon that plate upon the door.

And there, on his right hand, was the road leading to Brastings-that road... But here he was interrupted in his reverie by the return of the waiter, with the assurance that there was a room at his service, rather high up. Would the gentleman like to see it? No; the gentleman only wished his bag taken up, and dinner in half-an-hour. He would take a turn while it was light. But who lived in that house with the iron railings?

'Dr. Ryder, Sir,' replied the waiter, who had been longing to inform the stranger of the gay doings in prospect. 'It is Miss Ryder who is to be married to-morrow.'

'Oh, indeed. Is she a young lady, or middle-aged?'

'Not middle-aged, Sir; dear me, no! About eight-and-twenty, the folks say; and as she was born here, I make no doubt they are right. Gentleman-from London, Sir. Mr. Arthur Lloyd.'

'Oh.' Robin was looking another way; and so the waiter did not

offer any farther information. He was not really uninterested in the circumstance of Miss Ryder's marriage; but other thoughts were coursing through his mind. He stood as if uncertain for a moment; then he crossed the market-place, and disappeared through the churchyard gate.

There are those in every small country town, to whom the knowledge of another person's errand is so much treasure stored up, and to be drawn from when required-to be required most surely upon some occasion, soon or late.

One of these gossips observed the slight figure of the gentlemanlylooking youth, as he crossed the market-place; and as he became lost to view, on went the gossip's hat-not women only take part in these affairs, be it known-and he thought that it would be important to learn the object of this one of the to-morrow's guests, in going thus prematurely to see the church. So with great appearance of most pressing haste, he passed through the open gate to the stile on the opposite side.

It was almost too much happiness to be so immediately repaid for his trouble. The stranger actually turned round, and stopped this express train upon its flying journey nowhere.

'You are in haste, I perceive, and must not be detained,' said Robin, who was intending to propose a question.

'No, Sir; not in too much haste to shew you anything for a moment.' 'I was looking round here,' continued the young painter. I suppose these are parishioners, mostly. A great many lie here.'

'Yes, Sir, they are mostly parishioners, more or less.'

'More or less,' repeated Robin, 'did you say?'

-

'Yes, Sir; some for longer than others, I meant; and one or two were visitors like you, Sir. Old Mrs. Morley was just at Mrs. Smith's three days, and was took off quite sudden. There, with the white monument, and the urn.'.

'And these have no names?'

'No, Sir; the Parish buried them.'

'Were they parishioners?'

'I really can't say, Sir. One was not, I know; because there was a great talk about it. A Gipsy out of the lane there, many years ago.' 'Indeed,' said Robin. Which of these?' pointing.

'This one, Sir. The Vicar chose to have it so; and he read the service himself.'

'Indeed,' said Robin. 'What name was it? Some of the Gipsies have very curious names, as I have heard.'

'I do not know, Sir. Mr. Bates could have told you last year; but he has had a stroke, and his mind is not always very clear. But there was a great talk at the time; and Mr. Bates, he stood up for the churchyard, and had quite a quarrel with the old Gipsy about it. She stood out that the young one was a christened woman; and the Vicar, he thought proper to believe her, though Mr. Bates did not.'

'Mr. Bates-is that your sexton's name?'

VOL 9.

4

PART 49.