Huntley, "even if you content yourself with merely playing it."

"Let us hear the air, Rosina," said Mr. Russell.

She was sure she should find it too difficult; but Huntley had moved a chair towards the piano-forte, and raised the music-desk. The first trial was not quite successful. Mr. Huntley hummed the song to set her right. The second time it was better played, and every one admired it. Mr. Huntley pleaded, however, for a little more expression, and Mrs. Wellford asking whether he could not sing, he laughed and said, "Oh, no!" Notwithstanding which, he immediately accompanied Rosina with a balmy, penetrating voice, such as she had never heard before. Hannah looked expressively at her mother, and Mr. Russell began, for the first time, to believe in stories of universal geniuses.

"It is sweet, but monotonous," said Huntley abruptly turning from the piano.

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Very sweet," said Mrs. Wellford.

"And yet, as you observe, Mr. Huntley," continued Mr. Russell," the air is monotonous. Now, an idea strikes me,-I dare say I am wrong, for I know nothing of music-not so much as the difference between A sharp and B flat."

"I should wonder if you did," thought Rosina.

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'But," he continued, "it seems to me that monotonous inusic, when sung by a fine rich voice, has a deeper effect on the mind than music which has more variety."

"Undoubtedly it has," said Huntley, "on a mind which is either wholly without cultivation, or which has arrived at the highest pitch of refinement. The untutored ear can relish none but simple melodies: when the ear begins to be cultivated, it also becomes vitiated, and takes pleasure in variety and apparent difficulty. It must even be kept from satiety by discords. As we go on the taste refines itself and we reach our original love of simplicity-we find we have travelled in a circle, and that when we fancied ourselves farthest from ignorance, we were at exactly the same distance from perfection. It is the same with every thing-dress, eating, books, manners, habits of life. The coquette comes back to her white gown, the epicure to his boiled chicken, the man of fortune to his cottage. We take great trouble to acquire fac

titious tastes and then have to unlearn them."

While Rosina was considering how much of this was true, and how much new, she found that her mother's guests were taking leave. Much pathos was there in her farewell curtsey

to Mr. Huntley, and very sorry was she to receive his parting bow. As soon as he was fairly gone, her raptures clothed themselves in words.

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My dear mamma! My dear Hannah ! Did you ever know such a charming person? Did you ever meet with such a universal genius? Such an enchanting voice, and such wit, and such eyes!"

"Softly, softly, Rosina, unless you would have us think, that, like King Lear, your wits begin to unsettle." "

"But seriously, mamma, did you ever know any body at all to compare with this Mr. Huntley?"

"Yes, my dear."

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Ah, you are thinking of poor papa. But you, Hannah, you who are impartial, do not you think of him as I do?" He seems very clever indeed," said Hannah, "though I cannot go so far with you as to admire his eyes. He looks one out of countenance.'

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Oh, my dear, that was the only the natural consequence of his admiring you so much. I like him the better for it—” What! for looking people out of countenance?"

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"No, mamma, for admiring Hannah. You know he paints portraits, and portrait painters are obliged to study people's faces so constantly, that it must necessarily become a habit. I did not observe that he looked any one out of countenance. Well!-I must say I am surprised at you both. I thought you seemed so delighted with him."

My dear Rosina, because we steady old ones cannot quite keep pace with your raptures, there is no reason why you should set us down as insensible to the merits of your hero. His conversation was amusing, his singing delightful, and his manners quite superior for a drawing-master."

"A drawing-master! my dear mother, what are you say. ing? Mr. Huntley is no drawing-master; Mr. Russell says he is a first-rate artist, a Royal Academician or Associate, I forget which I dare say he would be quite affronted at one's offering to engage him as a teacher."

"Though he offered to teach you gratis. Ah, Rosina! the case is plain. You are kindred souls, and have mutually fallen over head and ears into love, at first sight."

"Oh, I am not to be laughed out of my opinion in that way; nor need you, Miss Hannah, look so provokingly arch. I shall be grateful to Mr. Russell as long as I live, for having introduced such a charming acquaintance to us. Ah! here is his dear little book, I declare! I did not think it had been

left behind. I shall carry it up-stairs with me, out of Betty's reach, and I wish you two insensible ladies a very good night, which I have no doubt you will enjoy. No drowsy indiffe

rence for me!"

The following day, Rosina was trying over Mr. Huntley's songs, admiring his sketches, and correcting her drawings according to the advice he had given her, till dinner-time. More than once she went to the window, and looked up the lane to see if any body were walking down it; but was disappointed, for Mr. Russell had carried Huntley to a beautiful view six miles off. In the afternoon, Rosina declared she must walk to Hexley to buy some new bonnet ribbons, for her old trimmings were quite shabby, and she tried to persuade Hannah that her's were the same. Hannah was not to be convinced against the evidence of her own eyes, though, as her sister was bent on making the purchase, she consented to accompany her, notwithstanding the heat of the weather. Along two miles of the dusty, shadeless high road, therefore, they proceeded; the patient Hannah making no complaints; and on their arrival at the little shop, they had the gratification of finding the services of all the shopmen bespoken by their Saturday customers. Hannah was glad to rest herself on the summit of one of the high stools which had often excited her sister's ridicule; while Rosina, less tired, or not choosing to own it, had the pleasure of receiving a smirking bow from Edwin Good, as he passed with a file of schoolboys, trying to look as if he were independent of them. The blue ribbon was at length bought, and also a pretty pair of French gloves, which Hannah in her own mind set down to the Huntley account; but she made no remark, and they toiled home, looking, as their mother told them with a smile, "very unbecomingly hot." To Rosina's prodigious vexation, she learnt that Mr. Huntley had called in their absence, not even Mrs. Wellford having been at home. The walk had given Hannah a head-ache, and she sat languidly turning over the leaves of a book at the open window, while Rosina, her whole soul intent on the new trimming of her bonnet, was snipping, pinning, and placing, and lamenting that she had not bought another half yard.

CHAPTER VIII.

A SUDDEN CONVERT.

SUNDAY morning arose clear and bright, and Rosina, nicely dressed, accompanied her mother and sister to church with feelings of great complacence. She could not help stealing a furtive glance around, to see in whose pew Mr. Huntley might be sitting; but no Mr. Huntley was to be seen, a circumstance not inimical to her devotion. After service, Matthew ran to divide his mother and eldest sister, and accompany them down the lane; and Sam Good, in the glory of a new blue coat with bright metal buttons and a primrose waist coat, walked by the side of Rosina, flourishing his cane, drawing up his pert little figure, and observing that the weather was uncommonly charming." He came on Matthew's invitation to lunch at the White Cottage; and then, to Rosina's relief, they set forth on a walk.

There was a poor lame boy, named Henry Neale, who lived in a small cottage on the chalk hills which bounded the valley opposite to the church, to whom, as he was unable to attend the service, Hannah always went to read for half an hour before dinner on Sundays. Thither she was now accompanied by Rosina, and as they were proceeding down the lane, Mr. Huntley crossed a stile which brought him immediately in their path. He looked pleased at the rencontre, bowed, hoped Mrs. Wellford was quite well, and took the same direction as that which they were keeping.

"I have had a delightful morning," said he, " on these downs!"

"You were not at church then?" said Hannah.

"No. That was very wicked of me, was it not?" said Mr. Huntley laughing, and looking at her as if he did not expect to be judged very severely. "I have been lying under a venerable tree, Miss Wellford,-listening to the harmony of the birds and the distant tolling of the village bell, and watching the various picturesque groups of peasantry as they crossed the hills. How much more enjoyable is a Sunday in the country than in London! There you are jostled by strings of elaborately dressed, unintellectual looking people, pouring from churches and chapels, or nearly run over by cockneys

in their one-horse chaises, setting out on expeditions to Highgate or Hampstead."

"You speak of meeting the congregations face to face, Mr. Huntley," said Hannah." "Are we to understand, then, that you do not add one to their number?

"That is a very satirical inference," he replied, smiling. "Oh, I assure you, I go to church-sometimes. However, I will acknowledge that my attendance might be more regular. But shall I also own to you that the green hills and the clear blue vault of heaven form, in my humble opinion, a fitter temple for the worship of their Maker than the most gorgeous building which man can raise ?"

Hannah looked at him in quiet surprise.

"I am an idle fellow, and talk a great deal of nonsense, I dare say; but there is to me so much of formality, of mindcrushing repetition, in the prescribed service, so much of the tiresome or ridiculous in the manner in which it is usually performed, as to deaden, or at any rate, interrupt feelings of devotion. A liturgy is a good thing; an established liturgy there ought to be; I agree with you there-those that have no ideas of their own to express, must have words put into their mouths-but the helps which are given to sluggish piety are inefficient, and real piety wants none. A miserable chorus of charity children, often a droning preacher, always a bad clerk, are the chosen substitutes for the majestic trains of priests and melodious choirs who presided over the worship of the ancients. Surely," continued he more earnestly, and stooping as he spoke, to gather a tuft of flowers, more real advantage may be derived from moralizing over one of these campanulas which spring beneath our feet, than in drowsily listening to one of those well-paid gentlemen who

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-'reading what they never wrote,

Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work,

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And with a well-bred whisper close the scene""

You should hear Mr. Russell!" said Hannah with energy. Yes, he is a man of talent, and doubtless preaches well; but will you not allow that, in general, my idea is correct?" "I-I dare say that the study of the campanula may awaken some very good feelings, but"

"But what?"

Should we rest there? That does not amount does it, to more than the religion of nature?"

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Well!"