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which I mistook at first for a small farm house, as any one might from its appearance; nor was it till I saw the porch, the bell at one end, with a long iron chain descending from it, for the purpose of ringing it, and the little black grave stones, set in white frames of wood and plaster, that I knew it was a church. I made for the churchyard; but the gate had a padlock on it. There was a small house, however, nearly adjoining, (the only habitation in sight) at the door of which I knocked. A rosy cheeked lass, with a malicious pair of black eyes, that scarcely eighteen summer suns had looked upon, came to it.

"I see the gate of the churchyard is locked,” said I.

"Yes."

"Will it be opened soon?"

"Not soon.

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"What am I to do? This is the way to the Parson's Bridge, I believe? -Is there any other way?"

"Round-about." "Round-about?"

"Round-about."

I now found that she could only understand English a little, and could hardly speak it, at all. She looked mortified and embarrassed, in spite of a very innocent and good humored smile, which gave her an opportunity of disclosing a set of exquisitely white teeth. I wished, from the bottom of my heart, that I could speak Welch, for I think we could have carried on a very interesting conversation; but I could not; so I tried to make the best I could of her round-about.

"Do you mean through that gate?" said I, pointing to one half off its hinges, which seemed to lead into a cow-yard, were two pigs were solacing themselves in all the luxury of muck up to their snouts

"Yes-round-about," she repeated, at the same time waving her hand with a semicircular motion, to indicate the road I was to go.

I took the hint and departed; disputed the muck with the pigs, and discovered a narrow path which wound round the back part of the churchyard. This I followed, and soon emerged into a better road, which conducted me over a lofty hill, and thence, by a circuitous track, to the edge of a precipice, where I saw, several hundred feet beneath me, the object of my search; but I saw no way of getting to it except by a lover's leap, which nothing in my then situation called upon me to make. I knew, however, there must be a way, and after a little trouble I found it, though it required anything but a little trouble to accomplish my descent, some portion of which I effected in the most undignified of all imaginable postures, as my nether garments testified, when I arrived at the bottom.

I shall not describe the scene that presented itself, further than saying that ten times the toil and peril, and twenty times the amount of damage done to the lower part of my attire, would have been amply compensated by what I felt, as I sat and gazed around. The "Parson's Bridge" consisted of a rude and decayed plank, thrown across a frightful chasm, with a hand-rail on one side only, while, beneath, a boiling whirlpool, roared and eddied with terrific din. What concern the Devil may have had in building the structure which bears his name I know not; but, unquestionably, the parson who built this bridge, or caused it to be built, was not only the superior architect, but evinced superior taste as to local beauty. I learned upon inquiry, that it was actually erected by a parson, some fifty or sixty years ago, for the convenience of serving the two churches he had under his care, and which, by means of this bridge, and a walk over the hills, he was enabled to do, with a saving of several miles.

It was late in the evening when I returned to the Hafod Arms, with an appetite better adapted for a turkey than a chicken. As I approached the house, a sudden bend in the road, discovered my pretty chambermaid engaged in a piece of innocent flirtation with a tall strapping youngster, who

had hold of her hand in a very tender manner. She blushed a little as I passed. I was too hungry to moralise or be sentimental. I proceeded to "mine inn,” and regaled myself, temperately, upon one of the smallest chickens I ever saw, except under the maternal care of a hen.

MY WEDDING DAY.

I was married on the 2nd of August, 1826, and we set off from the church-door (that is, my dear Julia and myself) in the travelling carriage of a friend, at whose house, near Ramsgate, we passed what is called, (though I could never understand why,) the honeymoon.

The first anniversary of our wedding-day came round.

"Where shall we go to-morrow, love?" said I to my still dear Julia, on the morning of the 1st of August, 1827, as we sat at breakfast.

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Anywhere, or nowhere; for I shall be equally happy, so I am with you, Frederic," was her affectionate reply.

"We must go somewhere," I answered. "I cannot at all fancy passing the day at home."

"The last second of August!" exclaimed Julia with a sigh. "Poor Clementson! I wonder how he is getting on?"

"Heaven knows!" I rejoined, (buttering the last piece of a French roll,) "Heaven knows!"

I could not help sighing myself. George Clementson was the friend in whose carriage we left the church-door, and at whose house we passed our honeymoon. He was then worth a hundred thousand pounds; but suffering himself to be drawn into the vortex of a South American mining speculation he lost immensely, was honorable enough to pay his losses, (though, had his gains been equal to his losses, it is quite certain he would not have been paid,) and with the wreck of his fortune crossed the Atlantic to settle in Canada. An honest man who goes on the Stock Exchange, inevitably comes off it an upright beggar, or a downright rascal. There is no middle course between being stripped and stripping.

"We must go somewhere," I repeated, (after we had been long enough plaintive over the calamities of "poor Clementson,") so the next morning we set off in a post-chaise for Hastings, where we remained three days at the Albion Hotel. And three happy days they were, divided between ] delicious recollections of the past, a placid enjoyment of the present, warm, sunny dreams of the future, and some of the finest hock I ever drank.

Our second anniversary came; and if possible, it was happier than the first. There were two reasons why it should be so: one, that I had discovered fresh attractions in my Julia every hour since our marriage; the other, that she had become a mother; a bond which knits hearts that truly love, in a holiness of affection partaking more of a heavenly than of an earthly origin. It is not in vulgar, or in ordinary minds, that this feeling is produced: for vulgar and ordinary minds yield nothing but what smacks of the soil. But minds so attuned, as to be susceptible of the loftier harmonies of our moral nature, find a new and thrilling sense created, when they stand in the relation of father to the offspring of one they worshipped as a mistress, and cherish as a wife.

Having gone somewhere on the first anniversary, it followed, as a matter of course-nay, it was indispensable-that we should go somewhere on the second. But we did not go to Hastings. Not that we had any fault to find with Hastings; but Hastings was a great distance from Canterbury, and posting that distance would be just twice as expensive as posting only half the distance. It was settled, therefore, that we would take a trip to Dover

this year.

It was further determined, at the instance of Julia, that we would spend only two days there, and I willingly acquiesced in the suggestion; for I reflected, that pleasure might be prolonged to satiety, and that, at any rate, it was none the better for being dear. So to Dover we went, remarking repeatedly on the road, that it was a much more convenient distance. We also agreed, that as there were early morning coaches from Dover, it would be better to return in one of them; for the weather was very unsettled, and if it rained, (as most probably it would,) a stage was just as comfortable as a post-chaise, and not more than a third of the expence. It so happened, we had the inside all to ourselves; a circumstance which made us additionally sensible of the resemblance between the two modes of travelling, even without the assistance of a wet morning; for a lovelier one never dawned, than that which saw us step into the Union.

The cares of life begin to collect round a man in the third year of his marriage; while it is quite curious to observe the many uses he then has for a guinea, compared with the independence of his bachelor days. Julia and myself were decidedly of opinion, when the third anniversary arrived, that as we now kept a gig, it would be both cheaper and pleasanter to go in that than in a post chaise; for we had remarked, that arriving at an inn in the latter, was a sort of announcement to the landlord, that he need not be particular in his charges. We were also decidedly of opinion, that though breakfasting at an inn was all very well, when it could not be avoided, there was nothing like having it comfortably at home, at the usual hour, and in the way one was accustomed to. Accordingly we did not set out till noon, and as the mare was rather delicate, we agreed to make only a short trip. So we took a gentle drive to Wingham, dined at the Red Lion there, and returned home to a comfortable tea about eight o'clock.

"It has been a very pleasant day," I observed, rattling the remains of a sovereign in my pocket.

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Yes," said Julia, "quite as pleasant, to my mind, as either Hastings or Dover."

"And at about one fifth of the expence," I added; producing the fragments, which consisted of one half-crown, four sixpences, and two shillings.

"Yet, we should not have thought so once," responded Julia.

"Ah !"

There was a great deal of meaning in that ah! which escaped from me almost involuntarily, as I returned the fragments, one by one, into my pocket. The sagacious reader can be at no loss to understand what was passing in my mind at the moment.

We were sitting, one evening, at our window, in the spring of 1830, when a frightful accident happened, exactly opposite to it. A lady and gentleman were thrown out of a gig. The gentleman pitching on his head, was killed upon the spot: the lady had her face shockingly lacerated; and the gig was smashed to pieces.

“Well," said Julia, when she had recovered from her agitation, “I am glad we have parted with our gig. Only fancy such an accident as this, happening to us; and it was very likely you know, for the mare's feet were exceedingly tender."

"Yes-and though an uncommon nice creature, she had an ugly trick of shying."

"Witness the night we were returning from Sittingbourne," answered Julia, "when she darted aside, at the sight of a sugar-hogshead, and all but threw us under a broad-wheeled waggon that was passing at the time. They are certainly dangerous things, those gigs, say what you will."

I assented to this character of gigs; not without reflecting, however, that we neither of us considered them in that light, while we kept one; and I have introduced this little conversation to intimate that we no longer kept one. The fact is, we had made a calculation of the expense, and found that

what with turnpikes, temptation to go out, livery charges, and one thing and another, it could not be taken at less than thirty shillings a week. This was nearly eighty pounds a year; a sum which would cover a great many household expenses. Prudence, therefore, said, lay it down: and we laid it down accordingly.

Travelling, by public vehicles, has been brought to wonderful perfection in this country. I made this discovery, Aug. 2nd, 1830, on which day Julia and myself had a delightful excursion to Margate, in the dickey of a stage coach. We rolled along at our ease; enjoyed the scenery; were set down at the door of our inn without trouble or fatigue, and returned in the evening, in the same luxurious manner.

In 1831, I was blessed with five little ones; and my dear Julia, being of a frugal disposition, forcibly impressed upon me the necessity of providing against a rainy day. With her good will, we should have staid at home, the fifth anniversary. To this, however, I positively would not consent.

"No, my love," said I, "we will do the thing as economically as you like; but there shall be a little difference between the 2nd of August and every other day in the year."

"Well, then," she replied, " we will drink tea at Littlebourne."

"With all my heart," I answered, (when I found I could not prevail upon her to go to dinner) " with all my heart; but really, love, if we go on this way, dropping a meal each anniversary, we shall go nowhere at last, not even to supper.

"And no matter if it does come to that, my dear Frederick," was her placid answer. "For my part, I wish, now, we had never spent the money we have, in these yearly holiday-makings. They are all very well, if persons can afford them; but you know we cannot, my dear."

I said no more. When the second of August came, we trudged up St. Martin's Hill in a broiling sun, and reached Littlebourne exceedingly well roasted. Thus was the fifth anniversary of our wedding day celebrated-for three and sixpence. As I sat, looking towards the grounds of Lee Priory, while Julia was pouring out the tea, I could not help exclaiming with a sigh,

O, mihi præteritos referat, si Jupiter, annos !

"What is that, in English?" said Julia, smiling.

"Only a prayer to Jupiter, my love, for the loan, over again, of the last five years."

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"And what would you do with them, if you had them?"

"That which most men do with things they can get, for asking, I am afraid -squander them unprofitably."

It was soon after this that we removed to Bewdley, in Worcestershire, where a situation was offered me which I considered it worth my while to accept, because a moderate certainty is always preferable to a precarious larger income. Here we lived in a pretty little cottage, on the banks of the Severn, grew our own cabbages and potatos, reared poultry and pigs, kept a cow, and increased our family. In this cottage, the sixth and seventh anniversaries of my wedding-day, found us very poor, but very happy; for though dear Julia tells me, every day, she can hardly cut and contrive our humble means, so as to make them answer our necessities, she also tells me, she has no desire to change her condition for a better. If this be not happiness, let those who deny it to be such, tell in what it consists.

I have said that our sixth and seventh anniversaries found us in this cottage, where we still are, and where I am now writing this account of them. The former we spent at the Green Dragon-a picturesque public-house about two miles out of the road leading from Bewdley to Kidderminster.— We went thither, in a chay-cart-belonging to a friend, who lent it us for the occasion, with as much hearty goodwill as poor Clementson lent us his carriage, the day we were married. We took with us a good sized veal pie, some brandy in a phial, some tea and sugar in an old newspaper, and three

of our six children. I will not say I was then, or should be now, philosopher enough to set forth in such an equipage, for any Green Dragon within twenty miles of London; but in the depth of the country these things attract no notice. Besides, as honest old Izaak Walton says, I began to "love such mirth as does not make friends ashamed to look upon one another next morning; nor men that cannot well bear it, to repent the money they spend when they be warm with drink. And take this for a rule," he adds, "you may pick out such times and such companions, that you may make yourselves merrier for a little than a great deal of money; for it is the company, and not the charge, that makes the feast."

The last second of August, owing to particular circumstances, I celebrated at home with closed doors. We contrived, however, to have a plum cake for the children, after dinner, and a glass of punch for ourselves while I smoked my pipe, having discontinued the use of cigars; not so much on account of the expence, as from the injury I began to perceive they did my eyes. I became sensible of this injury, about the same time I discovered that a coat might be turned and look as well as new; and that a black stock, worn without showing the shirt-collar, was peculiarly becoming to "the character of my countenance. An ungenerous world may make what use it pleases of this confession.

SALTWOOD

CASTLE.

F. F. Q.

A KENTISH SKETCH.

(To the tune of "The Groves of Blarney.")

DEAR GEOF-As you

To Geoffrey Oldcastle, Gent.

are an old castle, yourself, I have sent you a sketch of one of your relations. You will find him, when you want to see him, looking at the sea, just in the neighborhood of Hythe. I have made his sketch somewhat long, in justice to his length of years. If it is also very dull, it certaily is a family failing, to which yourself, among the old castles, is the only exception. Hythe, Sept. 9, 1834.

CLERICUS.

[I have taken some liberties with my relation; but none, I hope, that will offend him. An old castle, indeed, is not easily moved.-G. O.]

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