once had the greatest difficulty, though armed with the authority of the commander-in-chief, to whom I was acting as extra aide-de-camp, in inducing the leader of the supposed beaten enemy to continue his retreat, he being most anxious to turn upon his pursuers, and convert the sham engagement into a real encounter.

An event now occurred which completely altered my views and feelings, namely, the death of a distant relation, by whose demise I came into a tolerably good fortune. As my presence was required in England, and as I had a yearning for home and Mary, I applied for and obtained leave of absence, and having taken an affectionate farewell of the Duke and my Cambray friends, I lost no time in starting for London, via Calais and Dover. Upon reaching the metropolis I ascertained that the Wilmots were residing in Gloucestershire for the benefit of the Doctor's health, who was still a martyr to gout. From the moment I found myself in independent circumstances I had fully made up my mind to offer my hand where my heart long had been; and having written a few lines to the respected pastor, informing him of my return, and gently hinting at the object of my wishes, I proceeded at once by the mail to Cheltenham. After refreshing the outward and inner man by a bath and breakfast at the Plough, I ordered an open carriage to convey me to Dodsworth. Up, up, we went, after passing the outskirts of that pretty town, gradually and imperceptibly; for the ascent is very gentle, and consequently you are not aware of the height that is attained until about a mile has been passed; then turning a sharp angle of the road, by a picturesque old oak, the ruins of which proves how once it was a noble tree, and how many a blast it has braved in its isolated and somewhat exposed position, the eye at one glance embraces a view that even then, with my thoughts preoccupied by the meeting before me, I could not but feel the extreme beauty of. I looked and looked, until my heart grew under its influence, and visions of happiness, of rest, and peace passed before me, while I thanked Him who had preserved me through scenes of warfare and of peril, to bring me at last to such a haven as Mary's home and Mary's love. In all my wanderings I never saw a fairer scene. Nothing intervened between us and Malvern, whose dark blue ridge stretched against the cloudless sky, while the sun sank gradually behind the two peaks known as Great Malvern, casting a warm tint over that particular part, while the other looked all the darker for the borrowed glow over their grander sister; the valley at our feet extending to the foot of the hills, with but two objects catching the eye-Gloucester cathedral, and the nest of white houses comprising Cheltenham. On we proceeded, new beauties rising at each step. At length the summit was gained, and the man stopped of his own accord to arrange his harness, which he said had got out of order, but in fact to give me the opportunity of looking round; for all classes are proud, and well they may be, of one of England's finest spots.

Immediately around were stately and majestic oaks and limes. Here and there was seen a clump of lofty pines, intermixed with linden, hazel, and drooping birch trees; while the old picturesque house of prayer on the brow of the hill, the sun shining brightly on its spire, gave the idea of peace and innocence. I stopped to gaze from its church-yard, so tranquil, so holy-looking. The parsonage was a gable-ended, baywindowed, old-fashioned place, with a quaint garden, and lawn dotted

Το

with fantastical yew-trees, gay evergreens, and flowering shrubs. the right, an avenue of magnificent elms, coeval with the days of chivalry, led by a gentle though somewhat circuitous ascent to a handsome Elizabethan mansion.

"Which is the house occupied by Doctor Wilmot ?" I exclaimed, addressing a tiller of the soil.

"Through the gate," responded the man; "they be expecting you, sir you be the gentleman from Cheltenham that was sent for this morning."

"Strange!" thought I, "that my movements should be so well known in this rural district." And before I had time to solve this problem we had passed the ivy-mantled turreted lodge, and were at the gothic porch of the ancient building. As I descended and gave a loud ring at the bell I could not fail to observe that all the window shutters were closed: the rising thought that my venerable friend was no more was dispelled by the appearance of a servant, who recognizing the carriage as one belonging to the Plough, begged that I would walk into the library, as I had been hourly expected. Crossing the hall, pannelled with oak, and ornamented with antlers, spears, broadswords, helmets, morions, hauberks, targets, and banners, the spoils of the chase, or battles of byegone days, I was ushered into a tolerably-sized apartment filled with vellum-bound books, and rendered doubly gloomy by the ebony furniture, dark velvet curtains, and heavy casements of painted glass. Here I found seated at a table two persons, who, from their blue bags, papers, and parchments before them, gave me the idea that they were members of the legal profession; nor was I wrong in my conjecture, for the elder of the two rose upon my entrance, and removing a pair of spectacles from his eyes to his forehead, a custom which short-sighted people invariably adopt when it would seem they most required the aid of their artificial optics, introduced himself as the principal partner of the firm of Lewen and Hodson; the junior member of the learned concern bowed his head mechanically, like a China mandarin, and continued to pore over a closely-written document.

"By the terms of the agreement," said Mr. Hodson, "I find our client can vacate at a month."

"There is some mistake, I fear," said I, interrupting the erudite expositor of the law. My visit is to Dr. Wilmot.'

"Pray be seated, sir," responded the other; "everything is left to us; I fear the slovenly way in which the agreement was drawn out may lead to litigation, and at the Doctor's time of life, and in his present

Again I attempted to get in a word; but Mr. Lewen prevented me by saying, "To your business, sir. Of course everything is to be done in the most respectable manner-mutes, mourning coaches, hat-bands and scarfs."

"What can it mean?" I wildly exclaimed, when the door opened, and my former Donnington acquaintance, Beattie the butler, entered the

room.

"Oh, Master Percy-Captain Hamilton I mean-is it you?" muttered the faithful attendant. "This is a sad sight!-my poor, dear master--" Here the sobs of the old man completely prevented his utterance.

"Captain Hamilton," said the senior partner, with a smirk on his

countenance," our apologies are due to you for the error we have laboured under; we have been expecting a member of the respectable house of Smith and Evans, to receive orders upon this mournful occasion."

“Speak-speak, I implore you,” cried I desperately, addressing Beattie. "What has happened to the Doctor?"

“Oh, master Percy! have you not heard? Miss Wilmot-—died last night."

Here the manuscript terminates abruptly; the latter part is nearly effaced with tears. From all that the compiler of this work has been enabled to glean he finds that the sudden blow was too much for the wretched Percy: he fell senseless on the floor, and it was hours before he recovered his mind. By degrees the fatal story was broken to him. Worn out with care and anxiety in attending her father's sick room, Mary had completely enervated her constitution, and having, in despite of her medical adviser's injunctions, continued to visit the sick and poor in the neighbourhood, had contracted a low fever, under which she gradually sunk. As the end of her earthly pilgrimage approached, religion shed its light upon her heart, faith cheered her sinking spirit; and with meek confidence of triumph over death and the grave, she gently yielded up her parting breath to Him who gave it.

Doctor Wilmot outlived his daughter only a few months; he gave way to no inordinate grief, but bore his severe affliction with patience and resignation, and died, as he had lived, in peace and tranquillity.

Percy, after partially recovering the shock his senses had received, felt that nothing but active employment could divert his misery. Having obtained a staff appointment in Canada he sailed for that country, and when unemployed on duty he would roam in solitude through paths untrod by mortal foot; there, amidst the solemn gloom of the trackless forests, on the banks of the mazy and impetuous rivers, by the side of some remote lake, or within the sound of the loud roaring of waters of the mighty cataract, would Percy dwell for hours thinking of his departed Mary.

[Here, after a period of nearly thirty years, the manuscript is continued.]

There now remains little to be said, but I cannot allow the curtain to fall upon this imperfect drama without giving my readers a slight sketch of what befel some of the principal performers. All my early associates at Westminster are alas no more. My Donnington friends live alone in my remembrance of them it may be truly said "They were!" and oh, how many sorrows crowd into those two brief words!

Harry Beaufort exchanged into a regiment about to proceed to India, and his letters upon the wild sports of the east would fill volumes. Indeed, so wonderful are his exploits with the rifle, that were I to record them, I myself might be accused of being a follower of the celebrated Robin Hood with the long bow. His Shikar trips to the Mahore jungles, his perilous fights with the tigers, his encounters with the grizzly bears, his attacks upon the laughing hyenas (no risible matter, if his record be true), his going the whole hog" after the wild porkers, his assaults on panthers, antelopes, and Bull Nhilghies, mounted upon his

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shooting elephant," would fill volumes. Independent of the havoc the gallant colonel has made with the beasts of the forest, his prowess in the field of battle has been equally great, and no man stands higher as an officer and a sportsman than the companion of my juvenile frolics, Harry Beaufort. The worthy dominie, under whose roof I passed so many happy days at Donnington, fell a victim to the pestilence of 1832, while in the discharge of his duties in visiting the sick. Jeremiah Curtis attended his master throughout his illness, took the disorder and died.

Spencer H-, the lady-killer, did not turn his winning ways to any great advantage, for having become enamoured with the charms of a soi-disant French countess, he in an hour of infatuation eloped with her to Gretna-green, and shortly after his marriage discovered that his bride was a Parisian modiste, of very doubtful character. This ill-assorted couple, although differing upon many points, agreed upon one, that of a separation; the countess, with a handsome jointure, considerably increased by her knowledge of cards, may still be seen at the German watering places, presiding over private parties of ecarté and lansquenet, for she is too shrewd a person to risk her money at the public tables; while her still good-looking husband takes his daily saunter in Hyde park during the season, declaring that the young fellows of the present day are not to be compared with those of thirty years ago, and gently insinuating that a personable-looking man of fifty, with a good head upon his shoulders, is a formidable rival to a stripling of one-and-twenty.

Captain Caledon has accepted an unattached lieutenant-coloneley, and with his wife are residing at a picturesque villa near St. Aubin's bay, Jersey, enjoying all the luxuries and comforts of that beautiful and economical island.

Serjeant and Mrs. M'Allister occupy a small farm on the banks of the Spey; the gallant old soldier, with good conduct, pension, and ribbon, may be seen every Sunday at the kirk of Fochabers, his breast decorated with seven clasps and the Waterloo medal. He is an especial favourite at Gordon Castle, to the noble owner of which he feels the deepest gratitude, for having obtained for the Peninsula veterans the honoured reward of their bravery and heroic deeds. Two sons, the issue of this happy union, are following their father's profession, and both hold staff appointments in two of the finest Highland regiments in the service.

Old Durrant and his wife have long since "shuffled off their mortal coil," while their son, Gervais, has found a peaceful retreat in the Hospital des Invalides at Paris, after the stirring events of the campagins in Belgium and Africa.

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Poor Byron died at Missolonghi, in the cause of freedom and humanity. Who is there that will not respond to the touching tribute paid to his memory by Walter Scott? Only thirty-six years old; who will not grieve that such a race has been shortened, though not always seeking the straight path; such a light extinguished, though sometimes flaming to dazzle and bewilder?"

genius, lived to enjoy more

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Theodore Hook, another ill-fated son of years than usually fall to the share of man. His sayings and doings" will long be remembered.

His humble follower, Billy Sanders, fell a victim to his love of practical jesting. Of him it might be truly said

for during his last visit to Valenciennes, just before the breaking up of the army of occupation, a detachment of the French gens-d'armes happened to march through that town; the officers were billeted at the hotel where Sanders resided, and nothing would satisfy his mania for what he called a "lark " but to play off some trick upon the new comers. With this view he collected all the sponges he could, from the guest's rooms and stables, and having thoroughly immersed them in black and red ink, deposited them in the well-polished jack-boots which had been placed overnight by the careful garçon d'auberge at the doors of their respective owners. This redoubtable feat had been accomplished after a late ball supper, at a very early hour in the morning. The result was, that when the réveille sounded, the huge leather cases were still wet with liquid; and when the wearers proceeded to draw them on, and discovered foot-baths of so disagreeable a nature, the execrations that issued from the lips of the brave soldiers can be better understood than expressed. Suspicion fell upon the "hoaxer," which was shortly afterwards confirmed by the strongest collateral evidence; the result was, that the affair was taken up by a friend of the aggrieved parties, a duel ensued, and at the first fire Sanders fell mortally wounded.

Frank Alderson, who for years had been the "star" of every private theatre in the metropolis, assumed a fictitious name, went upon the stage, and soon discovered the difference between "amateurs and actors;" for one evening at Winchester, when the aspiring Roscius was ranting away in "Rolla," certain sibilations issued from the front row of the pit; nothing daunted, the Peruvian hero advanced to the footlights, and fixing his eye upon the critic, who proved to be an amateur tailor, addressed him in the following apt quotation from Shakspeare:

"Winchester goose, I cry. A rope! a rope!

Now beat him hence; why do you let him stay?
Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array-
Out, tawny coat."

This ready sally, so applicable to the profession and hissing propensities of the disappointed histrionic man of measures, completely turned the tables, and raised a laugh at the erest-fallen tailor. Alderson, however, never acted again on the public boards.

Messrs. Skinner and Simms, solicitors, have joined partnership, and still carry on a lucrative concern. Sharp practice is still their motto.

Sam Smithet, the dealer, has turned horse chaunter, and makes a fortune by those who (he aptly terms) can be "rubbed down by the flat brush." His ostler, Jem Sarrell, is a Newmarket "touter" during the trial and racing season, and the remaining portion of the year he is not particular as to what "he turns his hand," whether into his neighbour's pocket or his own.

Of the minor characters we need only give a brief notice. Our Tothill-fields friend, Jacob Thorn, alias "Tegus," is still in existence. After the improvements in his former locality had driven him from his