he hard work of the picnic. But now things were altered with
him; he had some doubts whether the sacredness of the valley would
not be desecrated by such a proceeding, and consulted Mr. Cruse on
the matter. Hitherto these gentlemen had not been close friends;
but now they allied themselves as against a common enemy. Mr. Cruse
did not care much for associations, seemed indeed to think that
any special attention to sacred places savoured of idolatry, and
professed himself willing to eat his dinner on any of the hills or
in any of the valleys round Jerusalem. Fortified with so good an
opinion, and relying on the excellence of his purpose, Mr. M'Gabbery
gave way, and renewed his offers of assistance to Miss Todd.

There was also Mr. Pott, Mr. Cruse's young charge, the son of a man
largely engaged in the linen trade; a youth against whom very little
can be alleged. His time at present was chiefly given up to waiting
on Miss Jones; and, luckier in this respect than his tutor, Mr.
Cruse, he had no rival to interfere with his bliss.

Miss Baker and Miss Waddington made up the party. Of the former,
little more need be said, and that little should be all in her
praise. She was a lady-like, soft-mannered, easy-tempered woman,
devoted to her niece, but not strongly addicted to personal exertions
on her own part. The fact that she was now at Jerusalem, so far away
from her own comfortable drawing-room, sufficiently proved that she
_was_ devoted to her niece.

And now for Caroline Waddington, our donna primissima. Her qualities,
attributes, and virtues must be given more in detail than those of
her companions at the picnic, seeing that she is destined to fill a
prominent place upon our canvas.

At the time of which we are speaking, she might perhaps be twenty
years of age; but her general appearance, her figure, and especially
the strong character marked in her face, would have led one to
suspect that she was older. She was certainly at that time a
beautiful girl--very beautiful, handsome in the outline of her face,
graceful and dignified in her mien, nay, sometimes almost majestic--a
Juno rather than a Venus. But any Paris who might reject her, awed by
the rigour of her dignity, would know at the time that he was wrong
in his judgment. She was tall, but not so tall as to be unfeminine
in her height. Her head stood nobly on her shoulders, giving to her
bust that ease and grace of which sculptors are so fond, and of
which tight-l