as though empty handed ;-these are a few of the reminiscences familiar to those cumberers of the earth, the unfortunates "behindhand with the world,” and who might, like poor Trotty, well persuade themselves that they "have no business here."

Less unpleasant, certainly, though more productive of grumbling, the office of sitting in wait for these sorry defaulters; the expectations, certain of being disappointed (because always beyond probability); the listening to interminable excuses; demands of the payers in full, for new additions or improvements; the haggling of some for reductions, claimed for mythical repairs or outlay incurred; the intelligence of deteriorated property; the complaints of quarrelsome neighbours; the unwelcome warning of the best tenant, are a few of the spectres with which memory so plentifully peoples the "quarter-day" of even the more fortunate.

Then the "flittings," as our northern friends have it, the removals, the breakages, the spoiling, the unrighteous appropriation of "unconnected," though very essential, household trifles; the discomfort, the colds, the coughs, the wasted time and money,—are not these among the "sunny memories" with which quarter-day" is associated, even in the minds of the WO we beg pardon, the ladies ?

46

And we now claim the indulgence of our readers while we discourse of events, some six months previous to the date of our first chapter.

The harvest had been good; and, strange to say, the bread had not risen in consequence. Wages, too, were as liberal as ever they had been even 66 in my father's time," and for the last eight months there had

been even more work than hands to do it; so there was every reason why sufficient should be forthcoming to answer all legitimate demands, and why "quarterday" should be minus a great many disagreebilities in Stillhaven this Midsummer. Not that it was by any means a common occurrence for Stillhaven to offer such a premium to willing workers. Till within the last two years, though bright its skies, and white its shingly beach, and genial its soft breezes, as at the present time, it had been rather one of the neglected gems than otherwise; and its inhabitants, in their quiet farm-houses and cottages, led a primitive life enough, although almost within sight and sound of a large seaport town.

But who shall prescribe or limit the working of cause and effect?

The Grand Vizier of Bagdad made the purchase of a surpassingly lovely Circassian beauty as an addition to his harem; and lo! little Stillhaven became great. And this is how:

:

The lovely Circassian, "scarce sixteen years old," was presumptuous and ungrateful enough to testify a disinclination for the society of her generous patron, a venerable, indulgent, amorous connoisseur in beauty, not above seventy at most. Deaf to all coaxing, proof against petting, indifferent alike to honied words and jewelled offerings, the captive beauty dared to have a will of her own: she sulked, rebelled, and, finally, harsher measures being threatened, she became obstreperous and violent, and so worked herself into a fever, as many a beauty has done for less cause.

A fever under such circumstances, and in such a country, is no joke, more particularly when we take

into account that irritant-a prior engagement, (which there certainly was). A host of duly qualified doctors was gathered about the fair patient, and each having a vivid idea of the sack before his eyes, in case of failure, vied with the other in remedies.

And so the disease gained ground at a gallop, became infectious, spread through the harem; carried off the ladies in dozens-leaving a sad prospect for the fair rebel when she should recover; and just as that seemed probable, and her lord was rejoicing thereat, the fever carried him off in its course through the city, which it decimated. Of course, there was an English vessel in the nearest harbour, and of course English sailors were running about the town, and as certainly they took the fever; and some died, and some got well; and in the chattels of the deceased, or the blood or atmosphere of the living, the disease was imported, in a modified form, into the seaport town over against Stillhaven.

Numbers fell sick; not a few died; the merchants' and well-to-do families were scared; and the mammas fled with their little ones in all directions, seeking purer air, fewer neighbours, and safety from contagion. And it entered into the head of a certain follower of Hippocrates, to recommend Stillhaven to such of his patients as actually did recover, for pure air, sheltered bathing, and, in short, every desideratum of a convalescent, which were, it seems, united more especially in one locality, called "Piert's Rest;" where, by one of those singular coincidences which do sometimes occur, the doctor had some houses, which in an unguarded moment he had been tempted to purchase, and which had often caused the good man to sin, in

heartily cursing his own folly, since, being a class of building wholly unsuited to the requirements of the inhabitants, they had lain a dead loss upon his hands, all unoccupied save one, which was tenanted by his aged mother and sister.

If the sweet little village had not been all they represented it—if even it had not been washed by the waves, and sheltered by the rocky shore, and visited by the balmiest breezes-still it was the snuggest, pleasantest, healthiest little retreat of any in all England-novelty would have done much with that scared, anxious, town-sick multitude.

But it was genuine; it was all that could be desired, and they only marvelled they had not sooner discovered it. They forgot how fashion had blinded them.

"Piert's Rest" was filled ere long-the old lady and her daughter in a state of siege, and they were soon "induced by urgent requests of their friends” to "spare" part of their house, where for years they had gone to bed quailing with terror of the solitude and dreariness.

Every available room in farm-house or cottage throughout Stillhaven was occupied by the more fortunate, while numbers were compelled to seek asylum in some less genial spot.

So Stillhaven became famous.

And not for that season only.

The ladies vowed they had never been so well; the children had never eaten so much, and cried so little; the young folks, to whom the place was endeared by the flirtations got up in the months spent there-for they will flirt amid sickness, aye, and death; and convalescence favours it-they lent their persuasions;

and so the husbands and fathers began to see it in a right light.

Ground was let and sold, at wonderful prices; speculative brains found ample field for employment. Here a church, there an hotel, and certainly a concert hall.

Advertisements brought you face to face with Stillhaven, the fare to Stillhaven by coach and boatthe air of Stillhaven-the bathing of Stillhaven—the lodgings of Stillhaven-till Stillhaven threatened to become a bore.

Stillhaven was the fashion. Hippocrates blessed himself, and would have blessed the rebellious little Circassian, had he known all about it.

It is pleasant to know that the spirited beauty got the better of the fever, and, her old lover being dead, made the best of her way to her own land, and the younger one, when-it is to be hoped-they blessed Allah, and fulfilled their destiny.

And this is how it fell out that rents were paid, this quarter-day, right punctually; and the great man's steward wore a more smiling aspect than he had done for many a day; for the good folks of Stillhaven were wont to be slow, if sure, in money matters.

And, of all others, this day was an excuse for a general gossiping and news-hunting. So much was doing, so much to be done; so many speculations afoot; and the men being all pretty well employed just now, a great many had deputed their wives to take the quarterly offering to the great house which held territorial sway over the larger part of the old habitations.

On such an occasion be sure good cheer was not