that nature had given him capacious nostrils for no other purpose, than to be crammed with "titillating dust." He had lived the life of a bachelor, until he had reached his forty-fifth birthday, and had imbibed many absurd notions and prejudices. But he was at last caught (no great prize), by a young lady, who had unconsciously advanced to the brink of that dangerous precipice, over which the fair have such a horror of falling, and thereby becoming confirmed old maids. He was so much in love, if the sentiment which he felt is worthy to be called by so sacred a name, that immediately on making up his mind (for he was of a calculating disposition) to play the game of matrimony in earnest, he cast aside his snuff box believing the lady might possibly conceive a dislike for his person, and that it might even influence her to reply in the negative to his proposal, should she become aware of his habit. Mr. Myron departed, and Leo remained with his master, who soon gave him employment in working at a large pestle and mortar, under the direction of a boy a year or two younger than himself. They got on very well together, for Tom, as the boy was called, was obliging and appeared desirous of gaining the good will of Leo. After they had been at work for a half an hour, the shop bell rang, which Tom answered, but returned almost immediately with directions from his master that they were both to go into the shop, and remain there during the time he was at dinner. Mr. Eastman having finished his meal, returned to the shop, and desired Leo to go into the dining room, which he readily complied with, his work having given him a sharp appetite. On entering the room, he saw Mrs. Eastman for the first time. She was sitting at the head of the table, and on his entrance, rose and welcomed him with great cordiality and frankness. He was as much delighted with her reception, as he had been annoyed with that of her husband. She was somewhat taller than Mr. Eastman, of a fair complexion, oval countenance, with grey inexpressive eyes, well formed mouth, full lips, and expansive bust. She was gay and lively in her manner, and of great small conversational powers.

Leo had not been long seated, and but few words had been exchanged between him and Mrs. Eastman, when the voice and the bustle of a stranger's approach was heard without.

"Don't'ee trouble, sir, don't'ee trouble, sir, now;" said the voice.

"Surely its Mr. Mallot!" Mrs. Eastman exclaimed; and she rose, and immediately rang the bell, then advanced to the door which was now thrown wide open.

"And how be you ma'am? I hope you be well ma'am?" were the kind enquiries Mr. Mallot addressed to Mrs. Eastman, on entering the room.

"Ah! how are you to-day Mr. Mallot? I am so glad to see you." Having first placed his stick and low crowned broad brimmed felt hat in a corner, Mr. Mallot was soon ensconced in a large arm chair, at the dinner table, awaiting the arrival of a clean knife and fork, and a warm plate, which had been ordered to be brought instantly. We will avail ourselves of this opportunity to describe the personal appearance of Mr. Mallot before we proceed farther. He was of the middle height, and as burly and big as John Bull is usually represented: his features were large and heavy, with cheeks of a muddled carnation hue, and a nose partaking of a purple tint. He wore a dark cloth coat, which, when he coughed, or laughed, threatened every moment to split across the back, and probably reveal certain mysterious substitutes for braces underneath, which served to support a pair of closely fitting drab smalls, to which were attached leggings of the same colour. "I hope Miss Mallot is quite well, sir ?" began Mrs. Eastman.

"Why

no she been't exactly, she's had a cold lying about her ever since last full moon, ma'am," replied Mr. Mallot.

"You should let her come to town, sir; I could manage very well to accomodate her for a few days," which invitation Mr. Mallot commenced declining with a great multiplicity of thanks, but was hastily interrupted by Mrs. Eastman, who continued, "I cannot receive a denial Mr. Mallot, I must beg you will allow your daughter to act up to her own wish in this matter, and if she declines, I shall know the reason why, and I warrant I'll soon discover who the young man is, for he must be extremely attractive, that she's afraid to leave him for two or three days. Now I must make you promise me Mr. Mallot, that you will give my kind love to her, and beg her to come with you, next week, for I shall expect her, and I warrant we shall have some young men here, who will take her fancy. Why here's Mr. Myron, who would be proud to be her beau." As she said this, she turned towards Leo, giving him a meaning look, which entirely escaped the observation of the easy, good humoured, Mr. Mallot, and Myron smilingly answered, “Indeed I certainly should !"

"Thank'ee ma'am, thank'ee ma'am ! but I can't tell how to do without her. You see ma'am that I got nobody else to take her place; and when I be out of the way, you see ma'am, she do overlook all, and there's nobody else to draw the liquor for the workmen.” "But you know Mr. Mallot that you have promised me so many times that she should come and-"

"Well ma'am !" interrupted Mr. Mallot, "you and Mr. Eastman must come down to-morrow, or next day, and then we will talk it over again."

"Thank you sir, but we were at your house only about three weeks ago.” "And what of that ma'am? I shall expect ye."

"Indeed I can't promise, sir, but I will ask Mr. Eastman," and turning to the servant who stood close by, she continued, "Mary, change Mr. Mallot's plate." We quite forgot to acquaint the reader, that during this dialogue, Mr. Mallot had been most interestingly engaged in securing much to his own personal satisfaction, several slices of boiled beef, and a fair quantity of halfcold potatoes, which latter, Mrs. Eastman had supplied with a generous hand.

A clean blue willow-pattern plate, and a small knife by the side, awaited Mr. Mallot's use. The dried remains of a Cheddar cheese was placed before him, on a large dark mahogany stand, and within his reach stood a commodious bread basket, containing a stale bottom crust of a loaf of bread. Mr. Mallot for a moment eyed the appearance of the cheese, and the bread, with no favorable glance which Mrs. Eastman was quick to observe.

"Will you take your gin and water with your bread and cheese Mr. Mallot?” enquired the lady with a look of winning interest.

The eyes of Mr. Mallot instantly brightened, and he replied, "Thank'ee ma'am, thank'ee!" With some exertion, which threatened the back of his coat with destruction; several stitches being heard to give way, he succeeded in separating about a third of the cheese from the whole piece, which feat being accomplished, left his hands at liberty to make a like onslaught upon the bread. The ever ready hand of Mrs. Eastman now placed the glass of gin and water by his side, and as she did so, said, "Now if its not hot, sweet, and strong, Mr. Mallot, you must speak; but that's as I always make it for Mr. Eastman." "Thank'ee ma'am, thank'ee," was the reply called forth; and after giving it a stir with a spoon to dissolve the sugar, Mr. Mallot lifted the glass to his lips, gave one sip, and replaced it on the table half empty. Leo had by this time finished his dinner, and he rose from his seat and left the room.

He and Tom again went to work at the pestle and mortar, during which time, the following conversation passed between them: "I have not seen anyone as yet, beside yourself, who assists Mr. Eastman in his business," said Leo. "Oh! there is then," returned Tom, "although he's away just at present." "And what is his name?" enquired Leo.

"Why his name, sir, is Mr. Mark Abram, rather hasty temper at times, though, but on the whole, a pretty good tempered young feller."

"Do you think Tom, he and I shall get on well together? is he overbearing and self-willed ?"

"Oh! no he's not; but then you know all people been't like him."

แ "Very true Tom, very true!" returned Leo, not observing the stress Tom had laid upon the two monosyllables, "but you are comfortable enough: no reason to complain of anyone's conduct towards you?"

"No, no; as far as that goes, why I could make myself comfortable and happy anywhere, but all people ain't like I. You see my plan is to take things just as they come, whatever happens, make the best of it, that's the way to live."

66 'Oh, certainly, certainly," was Leo's reply.

"Now there's the gov'nor, if he ever meets with a mishap, I mean anything that's one way or another of a money matter sort, he has the 'fret' as I calls it, and really when 'tis on him he's in a reg'lar stew."

"Umph!" muttered Leo: and the conversation dwindled to mere commonplaces, which would be wholly uninteresting to the reader.

Mr. Eastman condescended to chat occasionally quite familiarly with Leo, who began to think that the idea with which he had at first been impressed respecting him, was erroneous, and his altered opinion became daily strengthened. Mrs. Eastman maintained her first position in Leo's estimation, she was so chatty, so kind, so agreeable, always agreed with him, and became so communicative, that she did not seem to have any secrets whatever from him; in fact, Leo himself thought that she went to the opposite extreme, so much did she tell him relating to the private affairs of her family, about her brother in Newfoundland, what he had cleared the very first year he was in business, of his furnishing a house, and a whole budget besides, in which he did not take the least interest, but to which he felt obliged to listen with the profoundest

attention.

One day when Leo was taking his tea with Mrs. Eastman, he took the opportunity of enquiring of her, when Mr. Abram was expected to arrive, for Tom had informed him that it would be shortly.

"Well I really can't say exactly, but Mr. Eastman was saying just now, that he rather expected him to return the latter part of next week."

"I shall be glad when he comes, for I long to know him," said Leo. "And you will like him, I'm sure you will; he's a very steady young man; and Mr. Eastman has the greatest confidence in him, for I'll tell you, Mr. Eastman requires a great deal of out-door exercise, in fact its the only thing which keeps him alive, for he is most delicate in his appetite, and at times it utterly fails him, and when he is out in the open-air, which I have at last taught him to be partial to, you see he has some one at home who can take his place, and whom he can depend upon, and the customers are extremely partial to Mr. Abram; but there "-Here she was interrupted by a violent fit of coughing, and by the time it had subsided, Leo had finished his meal, and he left the room.

To be continued.

A KNOCK HARD ON

A Poem, by Ten-to-one.
(Continued from page 88.)

But soon the down upon their top-lips came;
And the new beard-young life's depending bloom—
Was shaved by neither; neither wished to part
With hair or curl; no more they fought for love;
Each woo'd the maid in silence; this was well,
And kinder unto PHŒBE it did seem.

Now she loved either: and the true love's knot

She did, when ask'd to tie it, say, not yet."
This purpose very sore their feelings tries,
And damps their cravings to be uppermost.
BILL purchases a flute, and plays it soon
To PHŒBE: nothing prosper'd; JACK at last
Grew pluckier, for he told the fisherman,

He cared for her as well, but could not breathe
Whole leagues of song o'er tea and butter'd toast
As he did. Likewise said he, "Persevere,
And blow thy music, man, 'twill gain thyself

Full favour!"-BILL now thrice had clutch'd his knife
For a dread sweep at JACK's down-streaming beard;
And all things look'd again unfavourably :

But ere he rushed on, intent gave way,

He button'd up his coat, and made for home,

Still planning. JACK, with crest bright, half-way down

The narrow lane had scamper'd off from BILL.

And now the golden sun at eventide,

Gilds distant steeples with his parting ray;

And troops, with bag and basket, great and small,
Are trudging home from gleaning

PHOEBE GRAY

(Her mother after tea not needing her)

Went out to find her sisters, climb'd the hill,
Just where the roads met, and a streamlet ran:
And, looking down the hollow, saw the pair,
RACHEL and FANNY, sitting on the sand,
In large grey cloaks, and weather-beaten hats:
Both single, with a still and quaint desire
Ere long that state to alter.
PHOEBE stopp'd
Before their eyes, her face quite red with bloom.
Then as these Graces drew together, JONES
The group espied, and like a wounded sprite
Came down into the hollow where they stood,
And tried his best to join in merry-making.
At this late hour comes GREEN-the die is cast!
BILL feels a life-long anger in his heart.

All homeward sped, and merrily laugh'd the girls,
And merrily ran their tongues, three happy tongues,
Three happy tongues, all health and confidence:
There mutual love, and honourable thoughts,

And whisperings prompting laughter. Morning broke ;
BILL like a babe, first cried; then comes a wish

To search all nations to the uttermost;

And give his mind a better stringing-up
Than it had seen for years.

The wish review'd,

He two days after went away to sea,

To lose his idol in its solitudes.

JACK GREEN work'd hard at home; no wrathful seas
For him; but journeyings farmward: and in truth
GREEN'S old white horse, and GREEN's old farming-cart
With both sides shelving over to gain space,

Rough redden'd with his ploughman's painting brush,
Not only to all market-folks were known,
But to the little bairns all round the town:
So, too, his portal-guarding lively whelp,
And peacock, screeching at his lonely farm,-
Which noisy pair were GREEN's choice minstrelsy.
Now comes a change, a rather sudden change,
Five souls far northward from their narrow house
Enter'd a larger dwelling: whither used
PHEBE at times to go her Aunt to see;

And once when there, and trifling with the cat,
It happen'd by mischance she slipt and fell:
The chair was broken she was sitting in;
And while she lay reclining there, her Aunt
Call'd to her UNCLE JOHN, who quickly came ;
Another hand was stretch'd across to save;
They took her hands in theirs, and on her fell!
Altho' a grave, and staid well-meaning pair,
Yet lying thus all sprawling, crabb'd and glum,
They seem'd as if a nightmare in the day
Had them bewilder'd. struggling on the floor
The venerable Uncle used his mouth,

And call'd his niece "young beggar!" then he pray'd
"Save us from this-whatever else may come.'

And while he pray'd, got master of his legs.
AUNT JANE and PHŒBE, clearing this mischance,
Both almost flew to him to rally him,—

Reporting that his Cochin-China fowls

Were wanting yet their supper.

Would he go?

There yet were many words before he went,

Went for the food. Would PHOEBE make their paste?
And PHOEBE all at once consented to it,

Rejoicing at the chance to make all square.

To be continued.

T. G. S.

THE LINCOLNSHIRE SQUIRE.

เ

The descendants of the Squire,' who is the hero of this strange story, continue to occupy the enviable position of an ancient county family. Less than a century ago, the Squire alluded to was guilty of the indiscretion of marrying