the highly prized works of classic fame, had a most oleaginous odour.

The contents of the shop were scarcely less various than the occupations of its master and his family. In part of the second floor, Miss Slater held her "Academy for young ladies." In the other her sister performed the office of mantua and corset maker. Their father was upholsterer, undertaker, and barber, and by consequence politician to the parish. His gratuitous office of quidnunc had perhaps gained him more wealth and patronage than all his others collectively, as in it he had never made any direct attack on the purses of his neighbours, but by reading the newspapers and gazette every market day free of cost, he assembled all the farmers of the vicinity in his shop, who generally discovered something amongst its various contents they felt an imperious necessity to purchase, thus successfully following the plan of the ingenious advertiser of——A pair of globes for nothing!!!——with an atlas, price five guineas.

On the above mentioned occasions Mr. Slater was furiously loyal, in a flaming red waistcoat, which scarcely rivalled his rubicund face.—When he first became the village orator, he had endeavoured, from motives of interest, to persuade others he felt more than he really did; and, as is commonly the case with those who exaggerate but are not hypocritical, he ended in feeling more than he got credit for.—In the proceedings of the English government he now really thought, that "whatever is is right."—And perhaps it is to be regretted, that in his class this belief is not more general.—Illiterate politicians are scarcely less dangerous than self-constituted physicians—It requires men of skill to medicate for the body physical or political.—Quacks in either injure in proportion to their ignorance and consequent audacity; it may often be better to let a disease alone, in the constitution of the state or individual, than to run the risk of aggravating it by the nostrums of the venders of concealed poisons.

Mr. Slater's window was always adorned with a bulletin of the news of the day, of his own writing! and this singular composition set at defiance all rules of grammar and orthography; but he had none of the pride of authorship, and unfeignedly thanked the village schoolmaster for his emendations, though perhaps it might sometimes be said, that the correction was the worst of the two.

The good man also amused himself with what he called "mapping" and "drawing." The few unoccupied spaces in his shop walls were stuck over with representations of the Thalaba of modern history in a variety of woful plights; and he had made more changes in the face of Europe than that archconjurer himself—for, to elucidate the Duke of Wellington's campaigns, he exhibited a map with Portugal at the wrong side of Spain[3]! not failing to take similar liberties in his representations of actions of various kinds.

It may be supposed, that a shop so filled, and a master thus accomplished, would be unremittingly attended.—In truth, "The Shop" was seldom empty; and what with haranguing, bargaining, and the ceaseless creaking of the pack-thread on its ever revolving roller, with interludes of breaking sugar, and chopping ham, the noise on market days was so deafening, that the tower of Babel might serve as an emblem, but that there only one faculty was confounded, whilst here three of the five senses were assailed at once.

At the moment of Miss Wildenheim's entrance, however, a comparative "silence reigned within the walls,"—as in the shop were only Mrs. Temple (wife of the rector) and her youngest son and daughter, the one teazing her for a Robinson Crusoe, the other coaxing for a doll; but at the sight of their "dear dote Miss Wildenheim" the little petitioners forgot their requests, and throwing their arms about her neck, to the no small damage of the muslin frill, that contrasted its snowy whiteness with the sable hue of her other garments, made her cheek glow with their kisses, whilst their friendly mother not less cordially shook her hand.

After a little social chat, Miss Wildenheim proceeded to fulfil the object of her visit to the shop, namely, to choose a novel for Miss Cecilia Webberly.—"What are you looking for there, my dear, with so much perseverance? any thing will do for her," said Mrs. Temple.—"Here's the Delicate Distress—The Innocent Seduction."—"I fear, from their titles, they would serve to aid her in her search after romance; don't you think that would be a pity?—I was looking for Patronage, or Almeria."—The peculiar tone, half foreign, half pathetic, in which Adelaide said the word pity, joined to the ludicrous but just parallel she had in sober sadness unconsciously drawn for Cecilia Webberly, struck with so comic an effect on Mrs. Temple's risible nerves, that she burst out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Adelaide opened her eye-lids to their utmost expansion, and cast the beautiful orbs they had concealed on Mrs. Temple's face, with a look of mingled surprise and inquiry.—"I only thought, my dear girl, (laying her hand on Miss Wildenheim's arm), it was a sin you should waste your morality and your pit-tie in so useless a manner: believe me, Miss Edgeworth's wit and sense would be lost on a girl too stupid to comprehend the one, and too silly to profit by the other: if Miss Cecilia Webberly were only a fool, I might encourage your laudable endeavours, but——" "Hush, hush, my dear Mrs. Temple, here are strangers;" and turning round Mrs. Temple discovered Sir Henry Seymour's carriage at the door. It was a vehicle as old fashioned as the owner, "the good Sir Henry," and formed a striking contrast to the showy cortège of the Webberly family. It was drawn in a steady quiet trot, by four heavy steeds as gray as their driver, who, seated on a hammer-cloth adorned with fringes as numerous as those on the petticoat of a modern belle, carefully avoided the sharp turns and charioteering skill of the Four-in-hand Club. Sir Henry Seymour's carriage contained only his sister-in-law, Mrs. Galton, who was addressed by Mrs. Temple with all the intimacy of friendship, and answered a variety of inquiries concerning Miss Seymour, which were made with real interest.

After giving Mrs. Temple an invitation to join a dinner party at the hall on the following Thursday, Mrs. Galton whispered, "I suspect; that elegant girl in mourning is the interesting foreigner whose unexpected appearance at Webberly House last November excited so much gossip."—"Yes, she is."—"Then pray introduce me; we have never met, though I called on her the last time I visited Mrs. Sullivan." This request was soon complied with; and the ceremony being over, Mrs. Galton politely appealed to Adelaide's taste, regarding the colours of some silks she was choosing to work a trimming for her niece's first gown, which, on her ensuing birth-day, was to mark her approach to womanhood; for in Sir Henry Seymour's family the difference in dress between sixteen and forty-five was preserved: Selina had not yet laid aside her white frock, nor was Mrs. Galton in her own person anxious to antedate the period of second childhood. Mrs. Martin and Lucy, accompanied by Mrs. Lucas, now walked in to pay their compliments to the ladies they had seen enter, and were as usual received by Mrs. Galton with the utmost civility; and as she knew that a visit to Deane Hall was an event and a distinction in the annals of village history, she included them in her invitation for Thursday, which was delightfully accepted by them. Mrs. Sullivan's carriage having now returned for Miss Wildenheim, she took her leave. And Mr. Mordaunt, having executed some business the worthy baronet had intrusted him with, entered the shop, and reminded Mrs. Galton, that if they did not hasten home, Sir Henry would