"You forget," said Evelyn," that he diverts, as well as is diverted, and that he is as much honoured as he honours. So much for pride: Au reste, neighbours and families who see one another seldom, have a pleasant opportunity of meeting under the auspices of a person of rank, power, and good breeding; and all that promotes good neighbourhood cannot but be good in itself."

"Yes! but to be advertised for!"

"Well, are you not advertised for in town ?" "As how?"

"Whenever my lady A-, or Mrs. B—, sends a small card to your house, not treating you with the least ceremony of compliment, not even honouring you with an invitation, but merely apprising you, (gracious intimation!) that she is at home!—and yet you go for all that!"

"That is not in the papers," answered Tremaine. "It is not always out of them," said Evelyn; " at least I have sometimes observed, with a preface of,we are authorized to say, Lady A.'s assembly is put off, or Lady B.'s is put on; or that if it rains, the Duke of D-'s breakfast will not take place at the C- Villa.'-Now what is this but advertising in the papers, or what does it want but a Whereas,' in large letters, to give it a place in the Hue and Cry itself?"

"You may overpower, but you cannot convince

me," answered Tremaine, in a tone which shewed that though he might not be convinced, he was at least much shaken. "Yet how can I make you believe I am not proud ?"

"By going," said Georgina, with a look which did more than all her father's argument; "by going, for it is quite a curricle day

"But I have no curricle," replied Tremaine, “and if I had, fifteen miles' driving in such heat would be insupportable.”

"Your barouche, then," said Georgina, with a smile there was no withstanding.

"You drive me out of all my principles," exclaimed the proud man, acquiescingly.

As the carriage was getting ready, "You will give us places, I suppose, and I shall at least gain by it," said Evelyn.

"No

you won't, for we will have no arguments," said Tremaine, "not one the whole way."

It is not above two miles from Bellenden House, and as the road turns suddenly to the left, branching off from the turnpike towards the outer gates of the park, that one of those substantial summer-houses, which our ancestors were so fond of building sixty or seventy years ago, filled up the exact corner of the two roads, so that a window to the south, and another to the west, commanded a view of every man, woman, child, horse, higgler's cart, stage, or gen.

tleman's coach, that proceeded from London to York, or from York to London, or from any part of that line to the seat of the Earl of Bellenden.

This summer-house had been a very fine thing in its time, and was built by old Sir Hildebrand Homestead, with a profusion of red brick, white stone copings, white pilasters, and carved cornices; and here, of a summer evening, Sir Hildebrand used always to cool himself with a pipe. His son, who forty years before the time we speak of, and indeed for some years afterwards, was called young Sir Hildebrand, succeeded to the estate; and though he left off smoking, as smoking went out of fashion, yet he used the summer-house as much as his father.

This gentleman was remarkable for the most insatiable curiosity. Not a tale or an anecdote-not a marriage, a courtship, or bastardy-not a sale or mortgage of an estate-not a trial in civil court or crown court-not a dinner, or even what was eaten for dinner, within fifty miles,-I might almost add, within fifty years of him, but he knew in all the exactness of verity, and could repeat with all its various readings, as he had it from different relators. And yet for the last five-and-thirty years he had never stirred from his own gate. His powers both of talking and of listening were inexhaustible, and, as we may suppose, were well exercised by the idle gossiping people in the neighbourhood, and by almost all

travellers that came near the summer-house, at one or other window of which he was to be found planted generally from breakfast till dinner, which was still always at two o'clock, and from dinner till the evening closed in-when, in summer, he always retired to bed.

The only inconvenience attending this pleasure was, that as talking is a thirsty employment, it occasioned, among the lower orders especially, (who were always observed to be most kind in their communications) a considerable tax upon his ale and beer. This, however, was not minded by Mr. Jerome the butler, and, to do him justice, not much more by the Baronet himself.

It may be thought, perhaps, that he had a vacant mind, or broken down body, and that this was his mode of amusing them. But no! he had considerable reading, had studied, and seen the world when young, and had even been elected a bencher of one of the inns of court; while on the other hand, he had never known an hour's illness from his birth to this time, when, in his seventy-sixth year, he was still hale and hearty.

.

Why he had retired so early, or why at all, except because it was his humour, and that an Englishman, especially if rich, has a right to his humour, never could be exactly ascertained. It was said indeed in the neighbourhood, that an early disappointment with a lady who had made another choice, (in vulgar lan

guage jilted him,) first drove him from London; when for a long time he let his beard grow, and lived n his nightcap, with no companions but his books and servants, the latter of whom were all of the male kind:-for such for many years was his resentment against the sex, that not a female was admitted into his household. This, however, went off, and it was supposed that he might have returned to the world, and even married, had be not, as was also supposed, bound himself by a vow never to stir from his own house; while his shyness towards ladies of his own' rank was never to be conquered. It was indeed confidently reported that in his sixty-fifth year he had made an offer to his cook maid; who, taking him for a conjuror from his fondness for mathematical instruments, was afraid to accept him. ·

It may be supposed that a public dinner at a great man's, and that so close to him, was an occasion too agreeable to his temper to be neglected. It was, in fact, a sort of gala; an event to interest both himself and his whole house; who accordingly, on these occasions, generally assembled upon the lawn before his door, for some time before my lord's hour of dining, or the first carriage had given the signal that the company had begun to assemble. On these occasions too, he thought to give additional importance to the day, by assuming a sort of costume, only known at these times. Thus, for the last twenty years, he had