at I now
and then heard the word "fellows!" escape from between her lips, as she
got accidentally jostled in the crowd.

But there was one other heart present that did not enter into the
merriment of the scene, which was that of the simple Phoebe Wilkins, the
housekeeper's niece. The poor girl has continued to pine and whine for
some time past, in consequence of the obstinate coldness of her lover;
never was a little flirtation more severely punished. She appeared this
day on the green, gallanted by a smart servant out of livery, and had
evidently resolved to try the hazardous experiment of awakening the
jealousy of her lover. She was dressed in her very best; affected an air
of great gaiety: talked loud and girlishly, and laughed when there was
nothing to laugh at. There was, however, an aching, heavy heart, in the
poor baggage's bosom, in spite of all her levity. Her eye turned every
now and then in quest of her reckless lover, and her cheek grew pale,
and her fictitious gaiety vanished, on seeing him paying his rustic
homage to the little May-day Queen.

My attention was now diverted by a fresh stir and bustle. Music was
heard from a distance; a banner was seen advancing up the road, preceded
by a rustic band playing something like a march, and followed by a
sturdy throng of country lads, the chivalry of a neighbouring and
rival village.

[Illustration: May-Day Melee]

No sooner had they reached the green than they challenged the heroes of
the day to new trials of strength and activity. Several gymnastic
contests ensued for the honour of the respective villages. In the course
of these exercises, young Tibbets and the champion of the adverse party
had an obstinate match at wrestling. They tugged, and strained, and
panted, without either getting the mastery, until both came to the
ground, and rolled upon the green. Just then the disconsolate Phoebe
came by. She saw her recreant lover in fierce contest, as she thought,
and in danger. In a moment pride, pique, and coquetry were forgotten;
she rushed into the ring, seized upon the rival champion by the hair,
and was on the point of wreaking on him her puny vengeance, when a
buxom, strapping, country lass, the sweetheart of the prostrate swain,
pounced upon her like a hawk, and would have stripped her of her fine
plumage in a twinkling, had she also not been seized in her turn.

A complete tumult ensued. The chivalry of the two villages became
embroiled. Blows began