chief characteristic
was modesty. Her mind was like her person: modest, graceful, gentle and
generous above all.

Our village beauty had fairly reached her twentieth year without a
sweetheart; without the slightest suspicion of her having ever written a
love-letter on her own account, when, all of a sudden, appearances
changed. A trim, elastic figure, not unaccompanied, was descried walking
down the shady lane. Hannah had gotten a lover!

Since the new marriage act, we, who belong to the country magistrates,
have gained a priority over the rest of the parish in matrimonial news.
We (the privileged) see on a work-day the names which the Sabbath
announces to the generality. One Saturday, walking through our little
hall, I saw a fine athletic young man, the very image of health and
vigour, mental and bodily, holding the hand of a young woman, who was
turning bashfully away, listening, and yet not seeming to listen, to his
tender whispers. Hannah! And she went aside with me, and a rapid series
of questions and answers conveyed the story of the courtship. "William
was," said Hannah, "a journeyman hatter, in B----. He had walked over to
see the cricketing, and then he came again. Her mother liked him.
Everybody liked him--and she had promised. Was it wrong?"

"Oh, no! And where are you to live?" "William had got a room in B----.
He works for Mr. Smith, the rich hatter in the market-place, and Mr.
Smith speaks of him, oh, so well! But William will not tell me where our
room is. I suppose in some narrow street or lane, which he is afraid I
shall not like, as our common is so pleasant. He little
thinks--anywhere--" She stopped suddenly. "Anywhere with him!"

The wedding-day was a glorious morning.

"What a beautiful day for Hannah!" was the first exclamation at the
breakfast-table. "Did she tell you where they should dine?"

"No, ma'am; I forgot to ask."

"I can tell you," said the master of the house, with the look of a man
who, having kept a secret as long as it was necessary, is not sorry to
get rid of the burthen. "I can tell you--in London."

"In London?"

"Yes. Your little favourite has been in high luck. She has married the
only son of one of the best and richest men in B----, Mr. Smith, the
great hatter. It is quite a romance. William Smith walked over to see a
match, saw our pretty Hannah, and forgot to look at the cricketers. He
came again and again, and at last contrived to tame this wild dove, and
even to