softening and spoiling of her.

I have recently observed her holding long conferences in the
church-yard, and up and down one of the lanes near the village, with
Slingsby, the schoolmaster. I at first thought the pedagogue might be
touched with the tender malady so prevalent in these parts of late;
but I did him injustice. Honest Slingsby, it seems, was a friend and
crony of her late father, the parish clerk; and is on intimate terms
with the Tibbets family. Prompted, therefore, by his good-will towards
all parties, and secretly instigated, perhaps, by the managing dame
Tibbets, he has undertaken to talk with Phoebe upon the subject. He
gives her, however, but little encouragement. Slingsby has a
formidable opinion of the aristocratical feeling of old Ready-Money,
and thinks, if Phoebe were even to make the matter up with the son,
she would find the father totally hostile to the match. The poor
damsel, therefore, is reduced almost to despair; and Slingsby, who is
too good-natured not to sympathize in her distress, has advised her to
give up all thoughts of young Jack, and has proposed as a substitute
his learned coadjutor, the prodigal son. He has even, in the fullness
of his heart, offered to give up the school-house to them; though it
would leave him once more adrift in the wide world.

THE HISTORIAN.

_Hermione_. Pray you sit by us,
And tell's a tale.

_Mamilius_. Merry or sad shall't be?

_Hermione_. As merry as you will.

_Mamilius_. A sad tale's best for winter.
I have one of sprites and goblins.

_Hermione_. Let's have that, sir.

--_Winter's Tale_.

As this is a story-telling age, I have been tempted occasionally to
give the reader one of the many tales that are served up with supper
at the Hall. I might, indeed, have furnished a series almost equal in
number to the Arabian Nights; but some were rather hackneyed and
tedious; others I did not feel warranted in betraying into print; and
many more were of the old general's relating, and turned principally
upon tiger-hunting, elephant-riding, and Seringapatam; enlivened by
the wonderful deeds of Tippoo Saib, and the excellent jokes of Major
Pendergast.

I had all along maintained a quiet post at a corner of the table,
where I had been able to indulge my humour undisturbed: listening
attentively when the story was very good, and dozing a little when it
was rather dull, which I consider the perfection of a