the waist, and laying one's hand on the shoulder, and playing with the dear little ringlets of the pretty cousin, are even more harmless than the kissing; and it is mainly upon this score that we say Miss Julia Poggleton was a very nice girl to have for a cousin. She was pretty, certainly-elegant, unquestionably-and lady-like, beyond all shadow of doubt. She had bluish grey eyes with very dark lashes-dark, we mean, for eyes of that colourthey were eyes with very large pupils, that you could almost see yourself in, and Peregrine thought that they were beautiful; her hair was of a light brown colour-it was not yellow-it was not auburn -it was certainly not red-it was a rich, but not a dark, brown, and it curled-no very common thing in an Indian August-curled in the prettiest natural ringlets imaginable, moved about a little by the wind from the punkah; her lips were very inviting; her cheeks were colourless-whose are not in an Indian August?-and her skin was most delicately transparent-so much so that you could see her blue veins beneath it-and very soft indeed to the touch. What more can we say?.Nose a little aquiline-feet and hands quite unexceptional-and waist very sylph-like indeed-altogether in short, a very sweet creature in book-muslin, and very nice, as we have said, and as Peregrine thought, to have for one's favourite cousin.

Peregrine did his best to be very agreeable throughout the whole of the evening, but he was

in low spirits, and was not therefore completely successful. The death of his poor little friend had thrown a gloom over him, which even the smiles of his pretty cousin could not wholly dispel. However he talked and laughed and did the best he could; and the Poggletons therefore thought him amusing. The dinner was excellent, and served up with the greatest possible taste-the wine cooled to a nicety -though the ice was not-Mrs. Poggleton talked as much nonsense as usual, whilst Mr. Poggleton looked on and smiled. In the evening the young lady repaired to the piano, and sang two or three simple ballad songs with a truthfulness of feeling and expression that found their way to Peregrine's heart; and when that young gentleman went to bed, he had fully made up his mind that his cousin Julia was the sweetest girl he had ever met in his life.

CHAPTER VIII.

Containing some very choice Matter illustrative of Indian Society-a Flirtation and a Drive on the Course.

THE following day was spent by Peregrine Pul tuney in the pleasing occupation of doing nothing, than which there are few things more delightful, when you have a great deal to do, and few things more laborious, when you are compelled to do it—a truth, we are afraid, that is sadly illustrative of the perversity for which human nature is said to be celebrated.

But as Peregrine Pultuney's do-nothingness was enlivened by some very pleasant conversation with his pretty cousin, perhaps he ought to be exempted from the general censure, and neither classed amongst the idle or the perverse. Julia Poggleton was a very nice girl-lively, intelligent, and just a little satirical-not too much so, not illnaturedly so, but just enough to give a pleasant seasoning to her conversation, and to render her a most delighful companion, whenever she thought it worth her while to be so.

And she did think it worth her while to be agree able to Peregrine Pultuney; for that young gentleman had about him certain most winning ways -what they were we pretend not to know, but they certainly were winning ways-which made him a great favourite with the softer sex in general, and with Miss Julia Poggleton in particular, who, being a young lady of very great discernment, saw our hero's good qualities at a glance, and almost immediately lifted him over the heads of all her gentlemen acquaintance.

And so it happened that after breakfast the young people were left alone in the drawing-room. Mr. Poggleton went off to the office in his palki-gharre and Mrs. Poggleton was taking her breakfast, according to her usual custom, in her dressing-room; and Peregrine, you may be sure, gentle reader, was not very sorry for that.

"Well, here we are," said Peregrine, "a horrid rainy day outside, and every thing very comfortable in-now don't you think, Julia, I should be a great simpleton, if I were to trust myself outside, without the least occasion in the world for going?"

"I think you would, indeed," returned Julia, smiling; but you men never know when

66

you are well off; it seems as though it were the creed of all your race, that excitement is the chief source of happiness."

" and

you

"It is not mine," rejoined Peregrine, will give me credit, before you have known me very

long, for seeking happiness wherever it is to be found-whether in excitement or repose-action or indolence; now this morning I am all for the indolence, and if my heart does not very much deceive me, I am destined to find happiness in that."

"Oh! you are a philosopher, are you?" asked Julia, archly, fixing her fine eyes on Peregrine as she spoke.

"No one less so," returned Peregrine. "I am quite without theories, and I believe it is for this very reason that the world and I agree so well together. We never rub against one another, because I have no protruding system to stop my progress and entangle me as I walk along the highways of the world. A system is as great an encumbrance to a man as a broad-brimmed hat in a thicket-it's sure always to be catching in the boughs and branches, and stopping your progress most wofully at every step-no, no! no philosophies for me.",

"Well," said Julia, "now I know you, I think, and I dare say we shall get on well together. Can you sing?"

"A very little,” replied Peregrine. "And draw?"

"A very little," was the answer.

"Ah! that's modesty. Well, well; I shall soon have an opportunity of judging. You can talk, I know, so sit down on the sofa, whilst I get ready my work, and tell me all about yourself."