an amiable trait in Clotilda that she never could believe the male portion of society to be so shamefully callous to her charms as appearances might have led one to suppose; but every new-comer she magnanimously credited with the ardent desire to redeem his sex from the horrible stigma on their taste, caused by her being yet, at the age of thirty-five, in the enjoyment of single bliss.

'Do you really think so?' said Mr. Harman. Well now, I cannot agree with you; I confess these mountains bore me, and make me feel uncomfortable; I did not expect to find them so unlike their brethren in other parts of the world. In fact, Miss Brooks, I have a strong suspicion that this was originally Nature's great Bedlam. All the mad mountains were sent here, and they have continued to grow madder and madder ever since.'

'Dear me, Mr. Harman, what absurd ideas do come into your head!' said Clotilda, her face now wreathed in smiles, and showing no traces of its former crustiness: but how do you happen to be still here?'

'Well, I am not afflicted with that perpetual desire to "move on" which characterises weak minds. It was hot: the Maniacs took me somewhat by surprise; so I sat down to contemplate, and have remained absorbed in contemplation until now that my solitude is so agreeably broken.'

'And pray how much longer do you intend to remain in this attractive spot?' said Miss Brooks.

'Until you render it wholly unendurable by removing your presence from it,' replied he, with a mock-gallant bow.

Miss Brooks was highly delighted, and presently discovered that the road was getting much rougher, and that she would be greatly the better of walking the rest of the way to Lienz. Amelia pursed up her lips scornfully, knowing right well that nothing short of the presence of a specimen of the noble gender would have induced Clotilda to walk a step on such a day. But conscious as she must have been that she herself was not wholly unalive to such

influence, let us hope that she was not too severe on her sister in her heart.

By slow degrees, and with many stoppages for rest and admiration, the trio at length reached Lienz. At the door of the Post-inn, Mr. Harman found an old friend, watching the new arrivals come up the long empty street; and they hailed each other with that intense satisfaction which an encounter in solitary foreign parts produces, even in the minds of those who are not over congenial to each other in England. Captain Cavendish was a retired Indian officer, with a tolerable income. He was by no means handsome: thin, sallow, loose in the joints, about eight-and-forty years of age, and had all his life been afflicted with an unquenchable thirst for matrimony; in consequence of which he regarded every unmarried lady he met as the future possible Mrs. Cavendish, to be tested and tried with a view to her capacity for undertaking that great position. But it so happened that, whenever matters seemed to be running smoothly, and likely to come to a favourable termination, the Captain found he never could make up his mind that he had really discovered that perfection which his noble nature craved. Was it certain the lady was handsome enough, and young enough? (to do him justice, he had greatly moderated his expectations in these two respects of late years.) Was she rich enough, and well-connected enough, and, above all things, did she fully appreciate him and his poetic gifts? (For the soul of Captain Cavendish was a very fountain of Poesy, as he would have himself expressed it, gushing out, bursting forth either in his own words or in other people's, on all appropriate or inappropriate occasions.) With these doubtings and questionings he harassed his own mind and that of his confidant for the time being to such an extent that it was a relief to both when the opportunity slipped through his fingers. Now-a-days, however, he felt that the years were sliding fast away, and that, if he wished to secure the great object of his life,

he must make hay' whilst any remains of sun shone. He was therefore delighted to behold two English ladies, introduced to him as the Misses Brooks by his friend; and Clotilda, on her part, was charmed at making this new acquaintance; though her satisfaction was slightly damped by his alluding to 'the ladies,' who, it appeared, were resting after a long walk; for Clotilda was most firmly of opinion that the fewer ladies and the more gentlemen, the better for the forming of agreeable society.

At the table-d'hôte, where the whole party soon met, 'the ladies' proved to be Captain Cavendish's sister, Mrs. Melville, and her handsome daughter Amy. In the Tyrol even English stiffness perishes speedily, and acquaintanceships are soon struck up. These ladies therefore were very soon au fait with each other's plans, quantity of baggage, dresses, grievances, &c. &c.; and, finding that their routes lay together for some way, they agreed to start in company on the morrow. After dinner, Mrs. Melville's bedroom being the most spacious, she declared it to be the drawing-room, and invited the Brookses to come and sit there, which they gladly did.

After a great deal of conversation, and many discoveries of mutual friends, Mrs. Melville asked who the Mr. Harman was who had arrived at the same time with them, and whom her brother seemed to know so well. Clotilda tried to look conscious (but failed), whilst Amelia explained that he was the eldest son of Sir James Harman, a northcountry baronet of rather limited

means.

'We met him first at my uncle's, Sir George Trevilian's,' added Clotilda, imposingly.

'Oh!' said Mrs. Melville, with a half smile, glancing at her daughter, 'it is that Mr. Harman? We have heard a good deal of him from a friend of his, Mr. Charles Sydney.'

'What, the Mr. Sydney who is so clever, and writes in all sorts of magazines?' said Amelia.

'My dear Amelia!' broke in the elder sister, 'how can you say he is

clever? He appeared to me very much the reverse. Any goose may write in some magazines, I am sure; and Mrs. Erskine Leigh, who knows him well, assured me that his articles were, like himself, excessively stupid.' (From which observations we may infer that Mr. Sydney had displayed a vast amount of that obtuseness afore-mentioned so painfully common to his sex with regard to Clotilda.)

A very awkward pause ensued after this speech. Miss Melville grew crimson, and left the room.

'I am sorry to tell you, Miss Brooks,' said Mrs. Melville, coldly, 'that my daughter is engaged to Mr. Sydney-in fact they are to be married in two months. Mrs. Erskine Leigh is an intimate friend of mine, and I cannot help thinking you are mistaken in putting such an opinion into her mouth.'

It was not much in Clotilda's way to be abashed; but even she could not help feeling greatly taken back by this announcement. She stammered out several unintelligible apologies, and shortly withdrew from the room, followed by Amelia. When they had departed, Amy put her head cautiously in at the door; 'Is that nasty creature gone, mamma?' said she. 'Oh, mamma, wasn't it horrid of her to say such things? and do you think that was true about Mrs. Erskine Leigh, after her pretending that she liked Charles so much, and admired his writings so?'

'There was no pretence about it, my dear,' said Mrs. Melville. Í don't know a more honest, straightforward person than Mrs. Erskine Leigh. It is some complete misapprehension on the part of Miss Brooks.'

'Or invention, I dare say,' said Amy, in an irritated tone. 'What a bore it is!—we promised to travel with them to-morrow. Can't we get off it, and stay on here for a day or two?'

Certainly, my love; you shall not be annoyed on any account, and we shall remain quietly here till the Misses Brooks have a good start of us.'

But this plan was not to hold

good. Amelia, with a strong suspicion of how it would be, and anxious to avoid the pleasure of travelling alone with her sister as long as possible, wrung a reluctant consent from the latter that she should be the bearer of apologies to Mrs. Melville next morning before breakfast; and accordingly she went to that lady's room before she had left it, and drew a powerful picture of Clotilda's mental sufferings since committing the fatal mistake-the sleepless night she had passed, and the remorse to which she was at present a prey-till the kind-hearted Mrs. Melville and her daughter, alarmed lest brain-fever should be the result of so much anguish, hastened to send fervent messages to the effect that she was to think no more of it, and that they would all forget it as fast as possible, and make up their minds to be very happy whilst they were together. Amelia further explained, that, on thinking over it, her sister remembered that it was of an entirely different gentleman Mrs. Erskine Leigh made the remark she had repeated. (It is highly probable that Mrs. Erskine Leigh had never made any such observation at all; for Clotilda had a vast fund of imagination, on which she drew largely when at a loss for proofs of any of her assertions). So peace was signed and sealed, and Amelia was greatly relieved. As to Clotilda, she had cared very little about it after the first few awkward minutes; she could not understand people making a fuss about nothing,' but she felt it would have been a pity to separate, for a doubt was stealing over her as to whether Mr. Harman was not merely good for fine speeches and nothing farther; whereas, Captain Cavendish might be a much more practicable man, 'though so very ugly.' It struck her, moreover, that this was rather a favourable opportunity for beginning an intimacy with the said Captain; and finding herself alone with him in the public room after breakfast, when the others had gone to see after their packing, she assumed a sorrowful and dejected aspect, and said, in moving tones,

'Oh! Captain Cavendish, I am so unhappy to-day!'

The Captain, astonished, yet flattered at this sudden confidence, replied, 'I deeply grieve to hear it, Miss Brooks. May I venture to ask why to-day?

"Glad Nature wears her fairest look,

All, all is joy! Each rill, each brook,
Takes back the tint, &c."

You know the lines? Why then, may I ask, this sadness to-day?'

'He is poetical; what a bore!' thought Clotilda, to herself, for she was very far from being so, and found it an unpleasant strain, which however she had had occasion to make sometimes before to accommodate herself to beings of a poetical tendency. 'I made such an unfortunate mistake, last night,' said she; I repeated some foolish, and I am sure, very untrue remarks I had heard about the gentleman to whom your niece is engaged-of course knowing nothing of that arrangement—and you can't imagine how wretched I have been since! Your sister and niece have been good enough to send me some kind messages which relieved my mind, but I don't know how I am to get over it.'

Yours, Miss Brooks, I perceive, is one of those "spirits" finely touched, alluded to by the immortal bard, endowed with a sensitiveness almost too keen for the shocks of this rude world. But I do beg of you to think no more of such a very trifling matter. I can answer for it that my niece has entirely forgotten it by this time, and I trust you will speedily adopt the words of the poet

"Hence, loath'd Melancholy!

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born,
In Stygian cave forlorn,

'Mid horrid shapes and sights and shrieks unholy."'

'You are very good,' said Clotilda, dejectedly; and you poets have a wonderful way of smoothing the troubles of life-but would that I could forget!'

'Clotilda! I wish you would come up and sit on the boxes, that I may get them locked,' said Amelia at this moment, putting her head in at the door.

Clotilda's languor vanished at once, and she rose briskly from her seat to go up-stairs to the rebellious trunks. 'All I can say is, Amelia,' said she, 'that if the boxes want sitting on, you must have been stuffing things in, in a very careless manner, and I dare say I shall have to take them all out again.' Which proved to be the case.

A fine energetic creature!' reflected the Captain; and at the same time so sensitive, so gentle, so tender-hearted; there is a beautiful versatility of disposition about her, and she has already discovered my-a-my gift. A superior" creature that, and one to be carefully cultivated!'

That day the party proceeded to Innichen, and the day following through the magnificent Ampezzo Pass, in the very midst of the dolomites, to Cortina, where they proposed remaining a few days. The mountains are not so fine or SO interesting here as at Höllenstein, a little place which is passed en route; in fact, they are somewhat dreary and savage at first sight. But this is the best possible head-quarters for thoroughly exploring the dolomites of the district, and glorious views are to be obtained from those heights, which are accessible. But people who go there must be strong, and fit for an immense deal of walking. There is no provision made for riding; and even if there were, it would in many excursions be perfectly useless, owing to the steepness and ruggedness of the ascents.

The hosts of the Aquila Nera are civil and obliging people, and it is a comfort, after having one's ears tortured by the unmusical German of the Tyrol, to hear the soft Italian language spoken; but the inhabitants of Cortina generally, have a most uncouth and uncivilized appearance, and are the most inveterate starers to be met with anywhere. Amy Melville and Amelia Brooks, however, were very fair Italian scholars, and quickly made friends with a number of the children first, and afterwards with the elders. Clotilda sketched tolerably well, and Captain Cavendish carried

The

her camp-stool and other apparatus, and made himself generally useful to her. Mr. Harman botanized, and Mrs. Melville enjoyed the fine air and scenery, and the short remaining time in which she was to have her daughter all to herself. flirtation, or whatever it might be called, between her brother and Miss Brooks, she viewed with the utmost indifference, having witnessed the rise, decline, and fall of many a score of grandes passions on the Captain's part, and Clotilda seemed very well able to take care of herself. That lady, however, was beginning to be a little uneasy; why tarried the Captain's proposal? There was no want of opportunity, for they were constantly together; and she shuddered as she thought of the volumes of poetry which had been spouted to her. Why was the reward of such endurance so long withheld?

'I say, Harman,' said Captain Cavendish, one evening as they were smoking their cigars previous to turning in,' 'I want to ask you about these Misses Brooks-nice girls, eh?'

'I don't know them much,' said Harman, cautiously, for he did not know what his friend might be meditating.

'Oh! but we've seen a good deal of them here, you know; the eldest is a shrewd, clever young woman, with a vast deal of mind.'

'Not very young,' suggested Har

man.

'Ah, well, you know, you can't call her old; and I dare say any fellow she married she would make very happy-don't you think so? I should like to have your opinion.' 'I think I'd prefer the younger one, myself,' said Harman.

'No! would you though? She certainly has a fair complexion, which I like, but she doesn't talk; she has none of the esprit of her sister-in fact, is she not rather heavy in hand?'

'Perhaps,' said Harman: 'I should fancy she was better tempered than the other.'

'Really! you think so; well, I must try to find out a little more about both, before doing anything

rash. Thank you, Harman; I really am much obliged for the advice you have given me.'

And they went into the house, Harman wholly unconscious of having given the 'advice' for which the Captain expressed so much gratitude.

The next day Amelia's probation began: there had been a little excursion and pic-nic planned, and when the three little Einspanners came to the door, Clotilda stept into hers, expecting as a matter of course that the Captain would take his seat by her side.

'Make haste, Captain Cavendish,' said she, and get in, for I am so afraid of strange horses, and this one looks impatient of standing already.'

'Oh! you need not be afraid of the horse,' replied he; he is quiet enough, and I must not be selfish; here is my niece longing to have a drive with you.'

And, to the disgust of both ladies, he bundled Amy in, and jumped himself into the vehicle in which Amelia was seated, greatly to her surprise, and by no means to her delight, for she did not admire the Captain. After some indifferent conversation about the places they were passing, the day, the excursion, &c., &c., the Captain began to test.

'What a true artist mind your sister's is, Miss Amelia,' said he; those last sketches of hers are lovely, positively lovely.'

'Pretty well, I think,' returned Amelia, indifferently.

'She is jealous of her sister,' thought the Captain.

'Ah! surely more than "pretty well?" that sketch of the Drei Zinna is admirable, truly admirable!'

"They are fine mountains,' said Amelia.

'You love fine scenery, do you not? for me, I confess that whilst passing through loveliness like this, I realise the words of the poet

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods;
There is a rapture by the lonely shore;"

'and my feelings involuntarily find relief in the heart-stirring words of another poet

"Breathes there a man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said,

This is a fair and beauteous land?""

'(I alter the words slightly, you observe, to suit the sense). Oh! the sky, the trees, the very air itself on a day like this, are fraught with rapture to the poetic soul!'

I find that the air here gives me an excellent appetite,' said Amelia.

'I rejoice that you should find the atmosphere salubrious,' said the Captain, much taken back. Under present circumstances, however, the appetite of the soul and mind perhaps make themselves more powerfully felt than that of the mere-a -corporeal frame, don't you think so? There is a-what shall I say? -a hunger and a thirst to 'partake of the ambrosia of the gods in place of ignobler food, and to drink deep and long at the Parnassian rills.'

'Oh! that reminds me,' said Amelia, 'I'm so dreadfully thirsty, and I have a little bottle of cold tea in a small basket under the seat; would you get it for me? I always drink cold tea in preference to anything else, it is so wholesome.'

The Captain did as he was bid, and relapsed into silence for a considerable time after this, but at last recovered himself a little.

'I rather think, Miss Amelia,' said he, in an insinuating voice, 'that we have one taste in common. I observed a tell-tale manuscript book peeping out of your workbasket, last night! I have filled, I may almost say, thousands of such volumes myself; it is truly delightful, is it not, to have the congenial thoughts of all poets close at hand, and ready to refer to when one feels in the mood? I have no doubt I should find in your collection those sweet lines of Waller's (unfortunately too little known), beginning,

"Go, lovely rose,

Tell her that wastes her time and me,

That now she knows

When I resemble her to thee,

How sweet and fair she seems to be.'"

'Oh dear no,' said Amelia; 'you are mistaken, I have no collection: what you saw is my recipe-book. I always carry it about, for I find