the nearest approach that life and nature can | steadying himself by the shoulder of the next make to absolute silence. The very wagons, in the file, which unlucky follower, thus unas they come down the hill along the beaten track of crisp yellowish frost-dust, glide along like shadows; even May's bounding footsteps, at her height of glee and of speed, fall like snow upon snow. expectedly checked in his career, fell plump backwards, knocking down the rest of the line like a nest of card-houses. There is no harm done; but there they lie roaring, kicking, sprawling, in every attitude of comic distress, whilst Jack Rapley and May-flower, sole authors of this calamity, stand apart from the throng, fondling, and coquetting, and com a bird. The road is gay now; carts and postchaises, and girls in red cloaks, and, afar off, looking almost like a toy, the coach. It meets us fast and soon. How much happier the walkers look than the riders-especially the frost-bitten gentleman, and the shivering lady with the invisible face, sole passengers of that commodious machine! Hooded, veiled, and bonneted as she is, one sees from her attitude how miserable she would look uncovered. But we shall have noise enough presently: May has stopped at Lizzy's door: and Lizzy, as she sate on the window-sill, with her bright rosy face laughing through the case-plimenting each other, and very visibly laughment, has seen her and disappeared. She is ing, May in her black eyes, Jack in his wide coming. No! The key is turning in the door, close-shut mouth, and his whole monkey-face, and sounds of evil omen issue through the at their comrades' mischances. I think, Miss key-hole sturdy 'let-me-outs,' and I will May, you may as well come up again, and gos,' mixed with shrill cries on May and on leave Master Rapley to fight your battles. me from Lizzy, piercing through a low con- He'll get out of the scrape. He is a rustic tinuous harangue, of which the prominent wit-a sort of Robin Goodfellow-the sauparts are apologies, chilblains, sliding, broken ciest, idlest, cleverest, best-natured boy in the bones, lollypops, rods, and gingerbread, from parish; always foremost in mischief, and alLizzy's careful mother. Don't scratch the ways ready to do a good turn. The sages of door, May! Don't roar so, my Lizzy! We'll our village predict sad things of Jack Rapley, call for you, as we come back.'I'll go so that I am sometimes a little ashamed to now! Let me out! I will go!' are the last confess, before wise people, that I have a words of Miss Lizzy. Mem.-Not to spoil lurking predilection for him, (in common with that child-if I can help it. But I do think other naughty ones), and that I like to hear her mother might have let the poor little soul him talk to May almost as well as she does. walk with us to-day. Nothing worse for chil-Come, May!' and up she springs as light as dren than coddling. Nothing better for chilblains than exercise. Besides, I don't believe she has any and as to breaking her bones in sliding, I don't suppose there's a slide on the common. These murmuring cogitations have brought us up the hill, and half-way across the light and airy common, with its bright expanse of snow and its clusters of cottages, whose turf fires send such wreaths of smoke sailing up the air, and diffuse such aromatic fragrance around. And now comes the delightful sound of childish voices, ringing with glee and merriment almost from beneath our feet. Ah, Lizzy, your mother was right! They are shouting from that deep irregular pool, all glass now, where, on two long, smooth, liny slides, half a dozen ragged urchins are slipping along in tottering tri-spectators! And what a happy performer! umph. Half a dozen steps bring us to the bank right above them. May can hardly resist the temptation of joining her friends, for most of the varlets are of her acquaintance, especially the rogue who leads the slide- he with the brimless hat, whose bronzed complexion and white flaxen hair, reversing the usual lights and shadows of the human countenance, give so strange and foreign a look to his flat and comic features. This hobgoblin, Jack Rapley by name, is May's great crony; and she stands on the brink of the steep irregular descent, her black eyes fixed full upon him, as if she intended him the favour of jumping on his head. She does: she is down and upon him; but Jack Rapley is not easily to be knocked off his feet. He saw her coming, and in the moment of her leap sprang dexterously off the slide on the rough ice, Another pond, and another noise of children. More sliding? Oh! no. This is a sport of higher pretension. Our good neighbour, the lieutenant, skating, and his own pretty little boys, and two or three other fouryear-old elves, standing on the brink in an ecstasy of joy and wonder! Oh! what happy They admiring, he admired, with an ardour and sincerity never excited by all the quadrilles and the spread-eagles of the Seine and the Serpentine. He really skates well though, and I am glad I came this way; for, with all the father's feelings sitting gaily at his heart, it must still gratify the pride of skill to have one spectator at that solitary pond who has seen skating before. Now we have reached the trees,-the beautiful trees! never so beautiful as to-day. Imagine the effect of a straight and regular double avenue of oaks, nearly a mile long, arching over head, and closing into perspective like the roof and columns of a cathedral, every tree and branch encrusted with the bright and delicate congelation of hoar-frost, white and pure as snow, delicate and defined as carved ivory. How beautiful it is, how fellow of a blackbird—a sad glutton, he would clear the board in two minutes,-used to tap his yellow bill against the window for more. How we loved the fearless confidence of that fine, frank-hearted creature! And surely he loved us. I wonder the practice is not more She has frightened away the kingfisher; and now, in her coaxing penitence, she is covering me with snow. Come, pretty May! it is time to go home!" THAW. uniform, how various, how filling, how satiating to the eye and to the mind-above all, how melancholy! There is a thrilling awfulness, an intense feeling of simple power in that naked and colourless beauty, which falls on the heart like the thought of death-death | pare, and glorious, and smiling,-but still general." May! May! naughty May!" death. Sculpture has always the same effect on my imagination, and painting never. Colour is life. We are now at the end of this magnificent avenue, and at the top of a steep eminence commanding a wide view over four counties a landscape of snow. A deep lane leads abruptly down the hill; a mere narrow January 28th.-We have had rain, and cart-track, sinking between high banks clothed snow, and frost, and rain again; four days of with fern and furze and low broom, crowned absolute confinement. Now it is a thaw and with luxuriant hedgerows, and famous for a flood; but our light gravelly soil, and countheir summer smell of thyme. How lovely try boots, and country hardihood, will carry these banks are now-the tall weeds and the us through. What a dripping, comfortless gorse fixed and stiffened in the hoar frost, day it is! just like the last days of Novemwhich fringes round the bright prickly holly, ber: no sun, no sky, grey or blue; one low, the pendent foliage of the bramble, and the overhanging, dark, dismal cloud, like London deep orange leaves of the pollard oaks! Oh, smoke: Mayflower is out coursing too, and this is rime in its loveliest form! And there Lizzy gone to school. Never mind. Up the is still a berry here and there on the holly, hill again! Walk we must. Oh what a wablushing in its natural coral" through the tery world to look back upon! Thames, Kendelicate tracery, still a stray hip or haw for net, Loddon-all overflowed; our famous town, the birds who abound here always. The poor inland once, turned into a sort of Venice; C. birds, how tame they are, how sadly tame! park converted into an island; and the long There is the beautiful and rare crested wren, range of meadows from B. to W. one huge "that shadow of a bird," as White of Sel- unnatural lake, with trees growing out of it! bornes calls it, perched in the middle of the Oh what a watery world!-I will look at it hedge, nestling as it were amongst the cold no longer. I will walk on. The road is alive bare boughs, seeking, poor pretty thing, for again. Noise is reborn. Wagons creak, horses the warmth it will not find. And there, far-plash, carts rattle, and pattens paddle through ther on, just under the bank, by the slender runlet, which still trickles between its transparent fantastic margin of thin ice, as if it were a thing of life,there, with a swift, scudding motion, flits, in short low flights, the gorgeous kingfisher, its magnificent plumage of scarlet and blue flashing in the sun, like the glories of some tropical bird. He is come for water to this little spring by the hill side, -water which even his long bill and slender head can hardly reach, so nearly do the fantastic forms of those garland-like icy margins meet over the tiny stream beneath. It is rarely that one sees the shy beauty so close or so long; and it is pleasant to see him in the grace and beauty of his natural liberty, the only way to look at a bird. We used, before we lived in a street, to fix a little board out- EARLY in the present century there lived in side the parlour-window, and cover it with the ancient town of B. two complete and rebread-crums in the hard weather. It was markable specimens of the ladies of eighty quite delightful to see the pretty things come years ago. ladies cased inwardly and outand feed, to conquer their shyness, and do wardly in Addison and whalebone. How away their mistrust. First came the more they had been preserved in this entireness, social tribes, "the robin red-breast and the amidst the collision and ridicule of a country wren," cautiously, suspiciously, picking up a town, seemed as puzzling a question as the crum on the wing, with the little keen bright preservation of bees in amber, or mummies in eye fixed on the window; then they would pyramids, or any other riddle that serves to stop for two pecks; then stay till they were amuse the naturalist or the antiquarian. But satisfied. The shyer birds, tamed by their so it was. They were old maids and sisters, example, came next; and at last one saucy and so alike in their difference from all other the dirt with more than their usual clink. The common has its old fine tints of green and brown, and its old variety of inhabitants,horses, cows, sheep, pigs, and donkeys. The ponds are unfrozen, except where some melancholy piece of melting ice floats sullenly upon the water; and cackling geese and gabbling ducks have replaced the lieutenant and Jack Rapley. The avenue is chill and dark, the hedges are dripping, the lanes knee-deep, and all nature is in a state of "dissolution and thaw." MODERN ANTIQUES. women, that they may be best described together; any little non-resemblance may be noted afterwards; it was no more than nature, prodigal of variety, would make in two leaves from the same oak-tree. carriage to take her home from a party, the wind did catch one of them, and, but for the intervention of a tall footman, who seized her as one would seize a fly-away umbrella, and held her down by main force, the poor little lady would have been carried up like an airballoon. Her feelings must have been pretty much similar to those of Gulliver in Brobdignag, when flown away with by the eagle. Half a minute later, and she was gone. Both, then, were as short as women well could be without being entitled to the name of dwarf, or carried about to fairs for a show; -both were made considerably shorter by the highest of all high heels, and the tallest of all tall caps, each of which artificial elevations So far they were exact counterparts. The was as ostentatiously conspicuous as the legs chief variation lay in the face. Amidst the and cover of a pipkin, and served equally to general hue of age and wrinkles, you could add to the squatness of the real machine: both just distinguish that Mrs. Theodosia had been were lean, wrinkled, withered, and old; both brown, and Mrs. Frances fair. There was a enveloped their aged persons in the richest yellow shine here and there amongst the white silks, displayed over large hoops, and stays hairs, curiously rolled over a cushion high the tightest and stiffest that ever pinched in a above the forehead, that told of Fanny's golden beauty of George the Second's reign. The locks; whilst the purely grey rouleau of Mrs. gown was of that make formerly, I believe, Theodosia showed its mixture of black and called a sacque, and of a pattern so enormous, white still plainer. Mrs. Frances, too, had that one flower with its stalk and leaves, the blue eye, with a laughing light, which so would nearly cover the three quarters of a often retains its flash to extreme age; whilst yard in length, of which the tail might, at a Mrs. Theodosia's orbs, bright no longer, had moderate computation, consist. Over this they once been hazel. Mrs. Theodosia's aquiline wore a gorgeously figured apron, whose flour- nose, and long sociable chin, evinced that disishing white embroidery vied in size with the position to meet which is commonly known plants on the robe; a snowy muslin necker- by the name of a pair of nut-crackers; Mrs. chief, rigidly pinned down: and over that a Frances' features, on the other hand, were black lace tippet of the same shape, parting rather terse and sharp. Still there was in at the middle, to display a grey breast-knot. spite of these material differences, that look The riband of which this last decoration was of kindred, that inexplicable and indefinable composed, was generally of the same hue with family likeness, which is so frequently found that which adorned the towering lappeted cap, in sisters; greatly increased in the present a sort of poppy colour, which they called case by a similarity in the voice that was Pompadour. The sleeves were cut off below quite startling. Both tongues were quick and the elbows with triple ruffles of portentous clear, and high and rattling, to a degree that length. Brown leather mittens, with peaks seemed rather to belong to machinery than to turned back, and lined with blue satin, and human articulation; and when welcomes and a variety of tall rings in an odd, out-of-fashion | how-d'ye dos were pouring both at once on variety of enamelling, and figures of hair, either side, a stranger was apt to gaze in lucompleted the decoration of their hands and dicrous perplexity, as if beset by a ventriloarms. The carriage of these useful members quist, or haunted by strange echoes. When was at least equally singular; they had adapt- the immediate cackle subsided, they were ed themselves in a very remarkable manner easily distinguished. Mrs. Theodosia was to the little taper wasp-like point in which the good, and kind, and hospitable, and social; waist ended, to which the elbows, ruffle and Mrs. Frances was all that, and was besides all, adhered as closely as if they had been shrewd, and clever, and literary, to a degree glued, whilst the ringed and mittened hands, not very common in her day, though not apwhen not employed in knitting, were crossed proaching to the pitch of a blue-stocking lady saltier-wise, in front of the apron. The other of the present. Accident was partly the termination of their figure was adorned with cause of this unusual love of letters. They black stuff shoes, very peaked, with points had known Richardson; had been admitted upwards, and massive silver buckles. Their amongst his flower garden of young ladies; walking costume was, in winter, a black silk and still talked familiarly of Miss Highmore, cloak, lined with rabbit-skins, with holes for Miss Fielding, Miss Collier, and Miss Mulso, the arms; in summer, another tippet and a calash,- -no bonnet could hold the turreted cap. Their motion out of doors was indescribable; it most nearly resembled sailing. They seemed influenced by the wind in a way incidental to no moving thing, except a ship or a shuttlecock; and, indeed, one boisterous blowing night, about the equinox, when standing on some high stone steps, waiting for a they had never learned to call her Mrs. Chapone. Latterly the taste had been renewed and quickened, by their having the honour of a distant relationship to one of the most amiable and unfortunate of modern poets. So Mrs. Frances studied novels and poetry, in addition to her sister's sermons and cookery books; though (as she used to boast) without, doing a stitch the less knitting, or playing a pool the fewer in the course of the year. Their usual occupations were those of other useful old ladies; superintending the endowed girls' school of the town with a vigilance and a jealousy of abuses that might have done honour to Mr. Hume; taking an active part in the more private charities, donations of flannel petticoats, or the loan of baby-things; visiting in a quiet way; and going to church whenever the church-door was open. the holidays, to be admitted as a supernume- Their abode was a dwelling ancient and respectable, like themselves, that looked as if it had never undergone the slightest variation, inside or out, since they had been born in it. The rooms were many, low, and small; full of little windows with little panes, and chimneys stuck perversely in the corners. The furniture was exactly to correspond; little patches of carpets in the middle of the slippery, dry-rubbed floors; tables and chairs of mahogany, black with age, but exceedingly neat and bright; and Japan cabinets and old China, which Mr. Beckford might have envied-treasures which had either never gone out of fashion, or had come in again. The garden was beautiful, and beautifully placed; a series of terraces descending to rich and finely timbered meadows, through which the slow magnificent Thames rolled under the chalky hills of the pretty village of C. It was bounded on one side by the remains of an old friary, the end wall of a chapel with a Gothic window of open tracery in high preservation, as rich as point lace. It was full too of oldfashioned durable flowers, jessamine, honeysuckle, and the high-scented fraxinella; I never saw that delicious plant in such profusion. The garden walks were almost as smooth as the floors, thanks to the two assiduous serving maidens (nothing like a manservant ever entered this maidenly abode) who attended it. One, the under damsel, was a stout strapping country wench, changed from time to time as it happened; the other was as much a fixture as her mistresses. She had lived with them for forty years, and, except being twice as big and twice as tall, might Our member was a man of seventy, or have passed for another sister. She wore their thereabout, but wonderfully young-looking, gowns, (the two just made her one,) caps, and well-preserved. It was said, indeed, that ruffles, and aprons; talked with their voices no fading belle was better versed in cosmetic and their phrases; followed them to church, secrets, or more arduously devoted to the and school, and market; scolded the school- duties of the toilet. Fresh, upright, unwrinmistress; heard the children their catechism; kled, pearly-teethed, and point-device in his cut out flannel petticoats, and knit stockings accoutrements, he might have passed for fifty, to give away. Never was so complete an-and doubtless often did pass for such when instance of assimilation! She had even become like them in face. apart from his old-looking younger brother, who, tall, lanky, shambling, long-visaged, and loosely dressed, gave a very vivid idea of Don Quixote when stripped of his armour. Never was so consummate a courtier as our member! Of good family and small fortunę, he had early in life been seized with the desire of representing the town in which he resided; and canvassing, sheer canvassing, without eloquence, without talent, without bribery, had brought him in and kept him in. pointment; the powerless anger; the relentThere his ambition stopped. To be a mem-ing; the forgiveness; and then again, that inber of parliament was with him not the means terest, kinder, truer, more unchanging than but the end of advancement. For forty years friendship, that lingering woman's love - Oh he represented an independent borough, and, how can I jest over such feelings! They are though regularly voting with every successive passed away for she is gone, and he-but ministry, was, at the end of his career, as they clung by her to the last, and ceased only poor as when he began. He never sold him- in death. self, or stood suspected of selling himselfperhaps he might sometimes give himself away. But that he could not help. It was almost impossible for him to say No to any body, quite so to a minister, or a constituent, A GREAT FARM-HOUSE. or a constituent's wife or daughter. So he passed bowing and smiling through the world, THESE are bad times for farmers. I am the most disinterested of courtiers, the most sorry for it. Independently of all questions subservient of upright men, with little other of policy, as a mere matter of taste and of old annoyance than a septennial alarm-for some- association, it was a fine thing to witness the times an opposition was threatened, and some- hearty hospitality, and to think of the social times it came; but then he went through a happiness of a great farm-house. No situadouble course of smirks and hand-shakings, tion in life seemed so richly privileged; none and all was well again. The great grievance had so much power for good and so little for of his life must have been the limitation in evil; it seemed a place where pride could not the number of franks. His apologies, when live, and poverty could not enter. These he happened to be full, were such as a man thoughts pressed on my mind the other day, would make for a great fault; his lamenta in passing the green sheltered lane, overhung tions, such as might become a great misfor- with trees like an avenue, that leads to the Of course there was something ludi- great farm at M., where ten or twelve years crous in his courtliness, but it was not con- ago, I used to spend so many pleasant days. temptible; it only wanted to be obviously dis- I could not help advancing a few paces up the interested to become respectable. The ex- lane, and then turning to lean over the gate, pression might be exaggerated; but the feel- seemingly gazing on the rich undulating valing was real. He was always ready to show ley, crowned with woody hills, which, as I kindness, to the utmost of his power, to any stood under the dark and shady arch, lay human being. He would have been just as bathed in the sunshine before me, but really civil and supple if he had not been M. P. It absorbed in thoughts of other times, in recolwas his vocation. He could not help it. lections of the old delights of that delightful place, and of the admirable qualities of its owners. How often I had opened that gate, and how gaily-certain of meeting a smiling welcome- and what a picture of comfort it was! tune. This excellent person was an old bachelor; and there was a rumour, some forty or fifty years old, that in the days of their bloom, there had been a little love affair, an attachment, some even said an engagement, how broken none could tell, between him and Mrs. Frances. Certain it is, that there were symptoms of flirtation still. His courtesy, always gallant to every female, had something more real and more tender towards " Fanny," as he was wont to call her; and Fanny, on her side, was as conscious as heart could desire. She blushed and bridled; fidgeted with her mittens or her apron; flirted a fan nearly as tall as herself, and held her head on one side with that peculiar air which I have noted in the shyer birds, and ladies in love. She manœuvred to get him next her at the tea-table; liked to be his partner at whist; loved to talk of him in his absence; knew to an hour the time of his return; and did not dislike a little gentle raillery on the subject-even I-But, traitress to my sex, how can I jest with such feelings? Rather let me sigh over the world of woe, that in fifty years of hopeless constancy must have passed through that maiden heart! The timid hope; the sickening suspense; the slow, slow fear; the bitter disap Passing up the lane, we used first to encounter a thick solid suburb of ricks, of all sorts, shapes, and dimensions. Then came the farm, like a town; a magnificent series of buildings, stables, cart-houses, cow-houses, granaries and barns, that might hold half the corn of the parish, placed at angles towards each other, and mixed with smaller habitations for pigs, dogs, and poultry. They formed, together with the old substantial farmhouse, a sort of amphitheatre, looking over a beautiful meadow, which swept greenly and abruptly down into fertile enclosures, richly set with hedge-row timber, oak, and ash, and elm. Both the meadow and the farm-yard swarmed with inhabitants of the earth and of the air; horses, oxen, cows, calves, heifers, sheep, and pigs; beautiful greyhounds, all manner of poultry, a tame goat, and a pet donkey. The master of this land of plenty was well fitted to preside over it; a thick, stout man, of middle height, and middle age, with a |