riously speaking, he is much too young for you, for I asked him his age, and he said six and twenty. He looks more, and so I told him."

If Mr. Russell had been desirous of ingratiating himself with Mrs. Wellford, he might with reason have exclaimed, "Save me from my friends." Certainly, with the most candid of dispositions, and every wish to do him justice, Mrs. Wellford's dread of seeing him, and antipathy to the mention of his name, were doubly increased by Lady Worral's injudicious eulogiums, at the expense, as it were, of the dead; and more especially by her acknowledgment of having jokingly alluded to Mr. Russell of the possibility that the dead should ever be forgotten. The ensuing Sunday was looked forward to with pain: before it arrived, however, the new vicar thought proper to pay his respects at the White Cottage, and in spite of Mrs. Wellford's many prejudices against him, she felt her dislike thaw away under the influence of his mild, pleasing manners. He entered easily into conversation, spoke of their mutual friend Dr. Pennington, and of Stoke Barton rectory, which, it seemed, he had lately visited; praised the "bowery scenery" of Summerfield, then went on

with English scenery in general, and compared it to that of Portugal, where he said he had spent the preceding winter with a beloved sister. Mrs. Wellford, noticing an expression of melancholy in his tone, enquired whether ill health had been the motive of the journey. "Yes," he said, "his sister had been in a decline, and a milder air had been recommended; but not even Cintra could save her. He was left alone in the world."

Mr. Russell then cleared his throat, and spoke of the noise, filth, and discomfort of Lisbon. There was nothing to make it desirable for an invalid, he observed, except the air. Were he in ill health, he should prefer taking his chance at home. Abruptly quitting the subject, he noticed the pretty view of the church from the parlour window, and asked Hannah whether she did not think it would make a good sketch, and whether she drew. He then spoke of the lower order of his parishioners, and made several inquiries of Mrs. Wellford respecting their characters and wants. Mr. Russell had too much tact to hint how sorry, he was sure, she must have been to have quitted the vicarage, but he expressed his delight at the beauty and neatness of his new

residence, which he said he should have pride in preserving in its present tasteful order; offered to take Rosina on his knee, for which he was rewarded with a push, and asked Hannah for one of her clove pinks, which were finer than any in his own garden.

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I think, mamma," said Hannah timidly when their visitor was gone, "Mr. Russell seems a person whom we shall learn to like in time. At first I was almost sorry, and, I am afraid, rather envious when I heard people praise him - it seemed as if they were robbing papa of his rights. But now I begin to feel that we should be thankful he has been succeeded by some one who can appreciate the good he did among the poor, and carry on his plans. How much more painful would it have been if a red-faced, hunting, sporting clergyman had been sent to us, like the rector at Heeley!"

“I dare say you are right, my dear," said her mother with a sigh.

Mr. Russell's character was in fact of a higher class than that of his amiable predecessor. With fewer shining qualities than Mr. Wellford, he possessed greater grasp of mind. He had fewer

Mr.

accomplishments, less taking manners, but stronger sense. He appealed seldomer to the passions and more to the understanding. To one accustomed to the sunshiny hilarity of Mr. Wellford's countenance and manner, Mr. Russell, especially while still suffering from a domestic calamity, necessarily appeared grave and reserved. His disposition was excellent, yet where Mr. Wellford would have acted from the spontaneous impulse of the heart, Mr. Russell often acted from principle. Wellford's disposition was essentially social; he had no higher enjoyment than that of conversing with his wife, his children, and his parishioners. Mr. Russell had greater sources of happiness within himself. It sometimes cost him an effort to lay down a favourite author and visit a sick cottager; but the volume was always closed and the peasant always visited; and the consequent glow of self-approbation amply repaid the exertion of rousing himself from luxurious indolence.

.

Mrs. Parkinson, who had written more than one condoling letter to her sister, now re-urged her sending one of the girls to Park Place. Mrs. Wellford's spirits became very low at the thought of parting with any of the dear members of her

diminished circle, and she long endured all the discomfort of irresolution; but recalling to mind her last conversation with her husband to whose sentiments and wishes she now attached a species of sacredness, she at length made up her mind to part with her little Rosina, and wrote the tardy answer to her sister's invitation. With fond selfdeception, she avoided fixing any specific time, taking advantage of such phrases as "the next opportunity," "a trusty escort," &c.; but Mr. and Mrs. Good being summoned to London by the death of a relation that very week, they offered to deposit the little girl at Stoke Barton in their way, and the proposal was too unexceptionable to be refused. The suddenness of the resolution prevented much time for regret; Rosina was in high spirits to the last moment, and it was not till the windows were drawn up and the stage whisked through Summerfield, that the luckless little damsel began to roar at the top of her lungs.

Without minutely describing the adventures of a heroine in her eighth year, during the course of a forty miles' progress over a Macadamized road, it may be necessary to state that the evening of the same day saw her safely consigned to a pow