hum around them, and scarcely lift a hand to succour a dying neighbour.

Mr. Albert Moonshine, the gentleman whom we have said Miss Jane Hamilton had rejected, and who had been urged on by an anxious mother to this exploit, was already one of the veterans at Sam's public-house. He was one of the sleepy idlers, dividing his time between the ale-cask and his chimney corner. How such a person could have been allowed by Mrs. Hamilton to enter the doors of Alderbury would, unexplained, be incomprehensible. But the Moonshine family, though sadly represented by Master Albert (as he was still called in the village), had been of some note in the county, and they were said to have relatives in almost every part of England. Thus appointed, in respect of rank, it was not surprising that the affections of the Hamilton family should be won; and next, Mrs. Moonshine possessed a talismanic power over the mind of her son, which she exerted on great occasions, thus preserving it inviolate.

It was after the exercise of one of these spells, that the youth left the snug nook in his mother's house, and set forth with her to Alderbury, where, for a time, he managed to conduct himself adroitly enough to escape detection. But no sooner had he ventured on the improvident and awful step of soliciting the hand of Miss Jane, than he was unceremoniously rejected. Not that the family at Alderbury had made inquiries concerning him, or knew his domestic habits; but although passable as the son of an ancient country squire, the instant that he entered on the softer task of courtship, his demerits shone out too conspicuously to pass unnoticed, or even unresented. Yet, strange indeed as it may appear, he had scarcely recovered from the confusion of his retreat, before a thought struck him as singular in its results as in its origin. Never imagining that a certain inelegance of manner, acquired by his peculiar habits, had occasioned the mortifying circumstance of the day, he determined doggedly to maintain his post, and extort a love which he had been unable to conciliate. But his perseverance was attended by consequences still more disastrous; for, irritated by the constant visits of so eccentric a suitor, an inquiry was at length made in the neighbourhood.

The truth then came out, and the mistress of Alderbury, overwhelmed with shame and vexation, not only forbade him the house, but discontinued also her visits at Moonshine Court. It was a short time after this event, when Albert bore the part which belongs to this history. He had learnt nearly in the same hour with Priminheere, the news of Mortimer's supposed attachment at the Park, and instantly entertained, in common with the Calvinist, an earnest desire to avenge himself.

The passions of man vary. James Priminheere cherished an indignation against his rival, which if allowed its rein, would have annihilated both body and soul. Albert Moonshine, on the contrary, was jealous and angry, and hated his opponent heartily enough, but it was with the pettishness of a child rather than the rancour of an enemy.

Late on the Saturday evening, when the conversation occurred between the two brothers as we have related, Albert was returning home from the Baldfaced Stag, attended by a number of convivial companions, each -valiant for his own opinion, and above all fear. The talk was loud and vociferous, and subjects were canvassed and disposed of with wonderful rapidity, till one of the company fell upon Mr. Moonshine's late disap

pointment.

"Ha, Master Albert, is it you?" cried Carl Jones, a noted blacksmith of the village, "we've hardly seen you since your accident."

"What accident, Mr. Jones?" said Albert.

"What accident!-ha-ha, what accident, indeed; every body knows of Mr. Moonshine's accident, don't ’em, Tim?”

"Ay, that's what I fancy they do, Carl," answered an owl-like personage, using all his sagacity to keep himself upright.

He hav'nt taken no notice, that is, I mean, no proper notice of it, though," rejoined Carl. "I'm old enough, and sober enough, to recollect the squabble between Lord Offington and Sir Peregrine Piper, that wa' a very different piece of business, war'nt it?"

"I am very dull, very dull indeed, this evening, gentlemen," said the Squire, almost lethargically absent from the conversation.

“Dull, indeed, Mr. Moonshine," returned the blacksmith; "the company were thinking of your visits at the Park there, Sir."

"When did you beat your wife last, Carl?" was the reply to this disclosure.

"When will you have a wife to beat, Master Albert? Oh! shame, shame, that such a comely lad as you be should be sent to the right-about by a prig like Morti

mer.

The blacksmith might have hammered for some time longer, but that the name of Mortimer had conveyed a sound to the ear of the Squire, which seemed instantly to awaken the most lively recollections.

"Mortimer! Mortimer!" roared out Albert, lustily, "the very man

"And a very good shot too," exclaimed a gentleman in office, whose name we forbear to mention, in consideration of his rare attendance at these village carousals.

"I don't care for his shooting, Sir," cried Master Albert, " nor for any other man's. That is the man who has caused me this disgrace.

"Bravo! bravo, Sir!" resounded on all sides.

"Well, but what will you do?" said the aforesaid gentleman.

"Ay, now that's a very good question," added the blacksmith: "What will ye do now?"

"What will I do?" echoed the youth, half relapsed already into the drowsiness of his by-gone feast. "What should I do? What would any body else do? Why then, I'll tell ye, gentlemen-pass it over with the contempt it deserves."

66 'A very fine speech indeed for a coward, Master Albert," said Carl, upon, or rather towards whose head Moonshine immediately directed a potent stroke of his cudgel, which, however, only widened a breach in the blacksmith's hat.

"Hey-hey-mercy-murder-a madman," screamed Jones. "Why what now? what have I said? only that a coward might make such a speech, not that you made it Master Albert."

"A very critical and admirable apology," said the official man, whose dismissal from his place depended at that moment on the chance of two of his principals

having rode by accident along an adjoining lane, instead of the right road where the company were strag gling and scrambling in pitiable confusion.

At this moment another person was seen approaching them, apparently in considerable agitation. He was interjecting some broken sentences, as "That dolt my brother Charles!""Detested Mortimer," "Jilt of jilts," when the sudden vision of so large a party, and so disordered, arrested his attention. This was no other than James Priminheere, who had been engaged in the double employment of drowning care over the bottle, and striving to bring his brother into his way of thinking. Charles, however, although he could not withstand the allurements of the best Lafitte, was inexorable on the subject of revenging his brother upon Roger Mortimer. The latter, finding his efforts unavailing, had rushed out in a highly exasperated state, and not caring whither his footsteps might lead him, had hurried into the midst of the throng before he could command himself. It had not as yet become necessary for this professor of Calvinism to throw off the mask entirely, and either to disavow his principles, or brave out his departure from them amidst a course of hopeless profligacy. Some suspicions had, indeed, transpired as to his sincerity, but they were generally regarded as the offspring of the unprejudiced vulgar, and his apostacy was carefully concealed by the members of his own church. Something was still due to consistency, more perhaps to hypocrisy, and James had the satisfaction, on recovering himself, to observe, that his violence had not been noticed.

"Mr. Albert Moonshine, I presume," said he. "Yes," was the squire's answer.

"Going home, Sir?" continued Mr. Priminheere. "Yes

"But you ar❜nt, Sir," exclaimed Carl Jones.

"No-no-good friend," answered James, in a patronising tone of compassion for the blacksmith's condition, "I am on my way to see a sick brother."

"You'll be late, Sir," resumed Jones, drily.

"It is late," calmly replied Mr. Priminheere. "Mr. Moonshine, went on the Calvinist, "we are fellowsufferers."

"Yes, Sir," said Albert; and after a pause somewhat considerble, "How, pray Sir?"

"We were rivals, Sir, for the hand of Miss Jane Hamilton, but are now, I trust, friends, for another has the victory. Mortimer

"Mortimer! Mortimer!" reiterated Albert, again awakened to painful ecstacy; "where is my mother? "What can your mother have to do with Mortimer, my dear Sir?" said Primin heere.

66

The reader knows, however, the power which Mrs. Moonshine had acquired on some occasions over her son. "My mother is no friend to the Mortimers, Sir, I assure you," said Albert, with an air of simplicity which confounded the Calvinist.

"And so it ends, easily enough!" observed the latter with indifference.

"No, we don't give it up, we don't despair, Sir," replied Albert with equal apathy.

"Why don't you fight him at once, Master Albert," cried Jones, "what say you, Sir?" addressing himself to Priminheere.

"Our religion forbids us to shed blood," said the Calvinist, in a tone which plainly rebuked the blacksmith for his intrusion.

"I should like to know what religion you are of? muttered Carl, staggering back a few paces.

"I will fight," exclaimed Albert; "I have been considering, I will fight."

"As you please; only recollect, young gentleman, cried Priminheere with 66 eagerness, that I have no hand in this matter; I wash my hands of this proceeding." "Bravo, master Albert; courage, huzza! gentlemen the Squire's determined to fight," cried Carl; "and I do think," he added in an under tone, "that that sly Puritan there has had somewhat to do with it."

"But who is to carry the message?" inquired the man of office.

"Oh! I'll do that with all the pleasure in the world," replied Jones.

"You!" returned Moonshine, his senses appearing to return in all their fulness: "why Carl," the Squire's hand was seen to tremble a little-"what next?"

"That will never do," said Priminheere.