"I wish," said the vicar smiling, "I could be bold enough to hope that my little service might be rewarded by a sight of the tantalizing waif I have had the pleasure of restoring.”

The young man gave him a good-humoured but searching look with a pair of brilliant black eyes. "Oh, certainly, if you wish it," returned he, after bestowing a second glance on his drawing "You guess it, I suppose, to be a view of the valley before us. You are welcome to see the sketch, though I fancy it is very different from what you expect to find it."

Mr. Russell eagerly examined the drawing which was held out to him; and to his great surprise, beheld not only a view of the scenery immediately surrounding the White Cottage, but Hannah herself seated on her garden-chair beneath the tree. A few clever touches had given the easy outline of her figure and the general form of her simple drapery; and imagination easily supplied the profile of the sweet and thoughtful face resting on her hand, beneath the graceful braiding of her light brown hair.

"That figure comes in well, I think?" said the artist interrogatively.

Mr. Russell looked at it long and intently; at length he replied with an accent of much pleasure, “Yes, she comes in well, as you say. You have caught the lady's resemblance, sir, even better than that of the scenery; and I may say in the words of Milton,

'Much I the place admire; the person more.'

Your representation of place and person, I mean. It is excellent."

"Odd enough," cried the young man with a delighted look," that the same, or nearly the same passage should have occurred to both of us! It was but a minute ago that I was silently applying to myself the beautiful simile which immediately follows the line you have just quoted. doubtless remember it ?"

You

Mr. Russell looked as if he did not remember it; and the artist with at least as much energy as the occasion required, repeated the following lines

"As one who long in populous city pent

Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air,
Forth issuing, on a summer's day; to breathe
Among the pleasant villages and farms
Adjoined, from each thing met conceives delight,
The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine,

Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound,—

If chance with nymph-like step fair maiden pass,
What pleasing seemed, through her now pleases more;
She most, and in her look sums all delight.""

"Imagine, sir," continued the enthusiastic speaker, after having very pleasingly enunciated this difficult passage,-" Imagine, sir, the force with which these lines must be felt by a man passionately fond of nature in all her varied forms, compelled by his profession to pass half the year in the feverish excitement and pestiferous atmosphere of London, and who, escaping at length from his bondage, plunges into the country and comes all at once on such a scene as this!"

"It must indeed be delightful," said Mr. Russell.

"It is almost intoxicating!" exclaimed the stranger, who paused, apparently inclined to laugh at his own warmth of expression. He tied the strings of his portfolio, and added in a more temperate tone, "I assure you that when I sprang off the coach-box half an hour ago, and strolled into the churchyard to look about me while the horses were changing, the view, which unexpectedly presented itself, filled me with such delight

that no words could have given expression to my feelings. Being without aim or object, except to find subjects for my pencil, I hurried back to the inn, took my portmanteau from the stage, and resolved to remain here till I had exhausted the re-sources of the neighbourhood. Perhaps you, who appear a resident in this part of the world, can tell me how soon that period is likely to arrive."

66

"We have abundance of fine scenery around us," said Mr. Russell, and I think it will be some time before you will complain of want of materials for your pencil. Meanwhile, if my services are worth acceptance as a cicerone"

I

"Thank you,” replied his new acquaintance, "I shall gladly avail myself of your kindness. am, as you may have guessed from my sketching, an artist."

"From the excellence of your sketching," said Mr. Russell. "May I have the pleasure of knowing?"

"Huntley, sir," said the young man, a second time forestalling him-" My name is Huntley. You may probably have seen my father's name in the papers, some years ago-an officer who dis

tinguished himself in the American war.

has long been dead."

He

Mr. Russell did not recollect the name of Captain Huntley, till the stranger reminded him of some striking circumstances which instantly brought to his memory that officer's unavailing bravery and melancholy death. Pleased with the rencontre, and with the naïveté which had led the young artist to speak thus unreservedly of himself and his connections, he invited him to drink tea at the vicarage.

The invitation was accepted as frankly as it was given. Mr. Huntley put his portfolio under his arm, and before he turned away, gave a parting look at Mrs. Wellford's cottage. "That is a pretty little place," said he " I can hardly tell what to make of it. In spite of its roses, hollyhocks, and garden-seats, I should set it down for the tenement of some small farmer, or bettermost sort of labourer; and yet the lady—”

"Is a lady, I assure you," said Mr. Russell; "that cottage is inhabited by the widow and orphans of an excellent man who was my predecessor in the vicarage."