duce. Henry Milner will be a year older; and I trust will be more confirmed in the right way. But remember, my dear Mrs. Bonville, that I am not what I was: after his sixtieth year a man's strength begins to fail him, even if his health is tolerably good and perhaps one who is more in the prime and strength of his days, would be a fitter guide for your son."

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The subject was then dropped. But from what had passed on that occasion, Mrs. Bonville considered that she should be authorized to send her son to spend a long vacation with Mr. Dalben, though, providentially for Henry, it could not be the approaching vacation. What Mrs. Bonville's motives were for pressing this matter may be understood, when it is known that Mr. Dalben had a comfortable private fortune, and that he was entirely at liberty to bequeath it to whomsoever he chose, and that he had actually no relation, although Mrs. Bonville called him uncle by courtesy-Mrs. Bonville being the grand-daughter of a first wife of Mr. Dalben's father; hence, in fact, no relation by blood, and connected to him in a very remote degree.

But connexions of this kind are not to be dropped, where there is an independent fortune in the case; and hence Mrs. Bonville asked herself, "Why should Mr. Dalben be left to

bestow all his affections on young Milner? Why should I not endeavour to promote my own and my Edgar's interests ?" But all this, which was passing in the mind of the lady, was entirely unsuspected by Henry, and perhaps equally so by Mr. Dalben; and yet every person in the room felt that the widow's presence was uncongenial to the rest of the party, for they were all simple-minded persons, who thought only of this world as of a passage to another, and a happier state of being; and although they enjoyed the comforts which they met with in their passage with thankful, and therefore cheerful hearts, yet they were free from all plans and schemes. and anxious thoughts respecting what they might meet with in any future stages of their journey.

In consequence of this, Lord H., his lady, Henry, and Mr. Dalben, were exceedingly cheerful whilst they were at supper; and when family prayers were concluded, Henry was dismissed to his bed; Mr. Dalben having apprised him that he had had another apartment prepared for him instead of his former closet. "And there, my Henry," he said, "I trust you will find every comfort, and, above all, I trust that comfort which you formerly enjoyed in closet, viz. the presence of your God."

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Henry felt almost disappointed when he heard that he was no longer to sleep in the closet so dear to him from a thousand remembrances of his childish days; yet he felt extremely grateful for all the provisions made for his comfort in his new apartment, which was a pleasant upper chamber looking down upon the vale of the Teme, the horizon being bounded by the Abberley and the Woodbury hills. The window was indeed one which projected from the roof, but on that very account it was the more delightful; for being very wide, it formed, with the sides of the projection, a nook large enough for a table and chair; and, by the care of Mr, Dalben, a table had already been placed there, and on it was laid a large old Bible with marginal references, and many notes written by Mr. Dalben. Henry knew how dear this Bible was to Mr. Dalben, and therefore, when he saw his own name on the first page, with that of his uncle as the donor, he seemed to be almost overcome with the sense of the various kindnesses he had received from the days of his infancy. Added to this one peculiar mark of affection, he saw all around him so many instances of attention to his comfort, that he wondered how his uncle could have thought of them all. There was his bed, in which he had slept as a child, placed in one corner, PART III.

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and hung with new draperies; there were a set of new shelves covering one side of the room, and all his old possessions neatly arranged upon them a mahogany wardrobe for his clothes, and some old and well-beloved pictures hung over the chimney-piece.

Mrs. Kitty had followed him up stairs; and when she wished him a good night's rest at the door, she informed him that all he saw had been done in consequence of a letter she had received from her master. Henry expressed his sense of gratitude, and recommended Lily to Mrs. Kitty's attention.

The last thoughts of Henry, before he slept, were those of thankfulness to his God and his earthly friends; and one sound sleep brought him to his usual time of rising.

When he opened his eyes, he for a moment could hardly tell where he was; and then came the pleasant thought, "I am at home-at home, domum, domum, dulce domum"-he was no longer among strangers-he was a child at home; and with this sweet assurance he sprang up, and being duly dressed, he took a letter from Dr. Matthews to Mr. Dalben in his hand, and went down stairs. He found no one stirring below but Thomas: he gave the letter to him, desiring him to see that his uncle had it as soon

as he appeared; and then opening the hall door, he stood awhile on the steps, as we have seen a bird on an exalted perch, flapping and stretching his wings as preparing for a flight.

Mr. Dalben's house was on an eminence as it respected the vale of Teme, though, as regarding Malvern, seeming almost to be in a valley. Where Henry stood, however, he could look over a great extent of country, and see, as it were, at his feet, various woods and fields and downs and hills and crannies and corners, which were as familiar to his fancy as the interior of his uncle's study. He looked around him once, twice, thrice-and then bounding with one spring from the three or four steps which were before the hall door, he dashed down the gravelwalk and over a small lawn sprinkled with flowering shrubs, making the dew-drops fly like hail on all sides: till coming to the low paling beyond the garden, he cleared it with a bound, and was out of sight the next moment.

"Was ever the like of that!" exclaimed Thomas, whom Henry had left standing in the vestibule. "There he goes, down at the very bottom of the piece already; and if he has not cleared the brook, and is running up the bank, without fetching a breath."

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