a good old body she is-and as it is not often she goes out holiday-making, I thought it would be a charity to ask her, and so I did."

"I hope you found no inconvenience from your expedition," said Col. Abberley, by way of saying something.

“Oh dear, no: we came early-some walked, and some came on donkeys; then the young folks had a good game at blindman's buff in and out of the church and the square-I am sure I leant against one of the old pillars and laughed till I was fit to die and William Tomkins, so clever he is at making fun of everything, took off the odd ways of most of them as they played; and then we sat down to dinner under the old beech, and a very good dinner it was; it came in a donkey-cart-I had it cooked myself—and my servant Betty had all the trouble of getting it; (I always deal with Clarke, Mrs. Abberley, his mutton is a halfpenny a pound less than Jupp, and, I think, just as good,) then after dinner we had singing, and the gentlemen made speeches, and then they got up a little dance, while I made the kettle boil—and we all sat comfortably down to tea, and so came home about eight o'clock."

"I think we passed you," said Mrs. Abberley, "as we were returning from Studham, where we spent yesterday."

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Very likely, I think. Oh yes! I remember passing a carriage, and I said to young Tomkins, -whose can that be? It can't be the Abberleys, I

said, because they would hardly come back so early, but so it was you, after all? Well, you know, they say the abbey is haunted, and so, going back, Tomkins told us all manner of horrid ghost stories, till some of the girls were so frightened, that they hardly knew whether they were standing on their heads or on their feet. Now, I said, William-(I always call him William, Colonel, for I've known him ever since he was in arms)—I've promised to bring back these young ladies safe, and I won't have them frightened, I said, out of their senses. 'I frighten a lady?' says he-you know he is always very full of his compliments, I'd rather lose my own senses,' he says, 'than do that.' I suppose, Mr. Morley, you don't know young Tomkins?" inquired the lady abruptly.

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"I think," said Robert, "I saw him once last winter, walking about in one of those rough coats. which seem designed to bring a man as nearly as possible to the state of a bear; but further than this, I have not the honour of his acquaintance."

"Well, but Col. Abberley," said Mrs. Laxington, "I really quite want to hear what you think of us as a neighbourhood. Fine preacher, Mr. Wallis, isn't he? and I am sure, Mr. Morley, your brother made me cry so last sermon, that I hardly knew how to sit it out. Then, Mr. Jupp is a most excellent man, though I can't say I quite entirely agree with him, for you know, Sir John, I call myself a very good Churchwoman; but then, as I say, let's agree to differ on such little points; and old Mr. Tomkins,

too-there isn't a village in England better off than we are for preaching. And a sweet pretty place, isn't it? I am sure, as I was saying the other day to Betsy Smith, (and that reminds me, Sir John, to speak to you about poor John Smith, he has just lost one of his cows, and I was thinking of getting up a subscription for him, poor fellow, for he is a deserving man, I am sure), and, as I was saying to his wife, Well, Betsy, I said, if you are not thankful for being in such a village as this, I don't know, I said, who ought to be.”

Sir John Morley, who was well aware that Mrs. Laxington's reminiscences of Monk Teynton were apt to be spun out to considerable length, now rose to take leave. Charles Abberley followed him, and said, as they walked across the garden,

"I am quite sure, Sir John, from what I have heard you say myself, and from what I know of you from your son, that you feel these constantly repeated desecrations of the abbey as painfully as I do. My father, I know, does not approve of them; and I earnestly begged of him not to allow Mrs. Laxington's pic-nic to be held in the ruins. He was half disposed to listen to what I said; but he has a great dread of unpopularity, and as a similar permission was never refused by our predecessors, and as our good neighbours seem almost to claim the favour as a right, he was unwilling to displease them by interfering to put a stop to their enjoyments. Perhaps, if ever the opportunity should offer, you would not

mind speaking to him on the subject, I am sure a word from you will have great weight with him.”

"You are quite right in thinking that I mourn with you the desecrations to which the priory is exposed," replied Sir John. "If I should ever be able to put my view of the case before Col. Abberley, I certainly will."

"Thank you," returned the other; "I was sure you would not think my request an intrusion.”

"I quite pity that young man," said Sir John Morley to his son, as they rode back. "Were he but in a better situation for moral improvement, I have seldom seen one who I think would develope into a more valuable character. We must do what we can for him, Robert."

CHAPTER III.

Is this of Joel a proclamation for liberty of preaching, that all, young and old, menservants and maidservants, may fall to it? To this sense hath this Scripture been wrested by the enthusiasts of former ages, and still is: all flesh may not be cut into tongues: some left for ears some auditors need. Else a Cyclopean Church will grow upon us, where all were speakers, no body heard another. Prophetabunt must not make us forget invocat.-BISHOP ANDREWES, III. s. 11. 4.

IN the history of the county in which the scene of our story is laid, and under the head of Monk Teynton, we read: "The Independent chapel, erected in 18—, is a neat building of the Ionic order; the present minister is the Rev. John Jupp." The history of this place was a curious specimen of the way in which dissent is generally introduced into a village. There was a certain farmer Harris, a man well to do in the world, and a professed Churchman, who had on some occasion incurred a rebuke from Mr. Wallis, a most unusual exhibition of authority on his part, for some open and scandalous crime. While determining to be revenged on his vicar, he felt that

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