ever, who has been embroiled with the world and the world's accidents for a dozen years, is not likely to allow such feelings to have long the inastery; habits of enjoying are acquired like other habits. There is besides a pleasure in talking of hardships that are past, and struggles that have been made, although in vain; for the very fact of our having endured hardships, and dared to struggle, implies determination and boldness of character.

We have said that Sir James had one child, a daughter. Adelaide Ackfield, as she was called, had now reached the respectable age of sixteen, and three months to boot;-but it would have taken some force of argument to convince her father that she was a bit older than when her mother died, more than half a dozen years before. A man may be very able to judge of the progress of a boy, or a puppy, or a colt, but he is miserably deficient in what relates to mere feminine matters; and thus Sir James, with the clumsy familiarity peculiar to the male animal, and the blind fondness of a widowed father, still took his little Ady' on his knee; and little Ady did not yet resent, even in Ormond's presence, this affront to the womanhood of sixteen. She was in truth a child both in habits and appearance. Besides being little of her age, and slightly formed, she had a softness of expression and a

timidity of manner usually characteristic of earlier years. Being treated as a child, she never dreamt of assuming the little woman; and her few companions being mostly younger than herself, her mind, although naturally of no inferior cast, had not as yet had opportunity to resolve into its destined form and pressure-in other words, she wanted mental character. There was nothing about her, in short, which could induce Ormond to regard her in any other light than as a beautiful and amiable child; and in watching her delicate and graceful form, whether gliding round the apartment like some dream of fairyland, or kneeling to adjust her father's slipper, his only thought was, how delightful it would be to have such a daughter! For some days after his arrival, Adelaide had felt his presence rather as a restraint than otherwise, and had taken every opportunity of escaping to more congenial companions, but by degrees he ceased to be a stranger, and she gradually became interested in the conversation between him and her father. With his friend, Ormond had no reserve, and he dwelt on his real or imagined wrongs, his hopes and disappointments, his trials and his struggles, almost in the style of soliloquy.

To a young person, and more particularly to a young female, brought up in the lap of com

fort, without any nearer acquaintance with misfortune than is derived from the pages of a tale, there must be something wonderfully attractive in a history of adventure and vicissitude, told viva voce by its hero. The mysterious spell which had heretofore riveted her young attention, and drawn tears from the eyes that were half ashamed of the beautiful weakness, when poring over the written troubles' of romance, must work with double. power when every incident comes before her in the strength and freshness of reality, and when a dramatic interest is thrown over the whole, by the eloquence or feeling of the narrator. In the present instance, the hero of the tale-the historian of events common perhaps in active life, but matters of strange importance in the happy valley'—was a welllooking, dark-eyed, ill-fated, single gentleman. The tones of his voice were peculiarly rich and deep, such as linger the longest on a feminine ear; and there was, on many occasions, a generous enthusiasm in his manner, which is sure to awaken some congenial echo in the warm bosom of sixteen. The shades too were not invariably dark; there had been resting-places in the wilderness, green spots in the desert: and mingling with the stern feelings of indignant resistance or haughty resignation, there came softer hopes and gentler regrets, dreams of love and beauty,

such as haunt us even in the midst of the world's business, like recollections of a former existence, longings after pure enjoyments that seemed to be for ever denied-imaginings of peaceful happiness, retirement, rural quiet, domestic affection-a wife!

After a few days, Adelaide sought no more her young companions as a relief from the gravity of her father's friend. A much longer time was permitted to elapse than Ormond had intended for the duration of his visit; but at length be reluctantly fixed the day of his departure. This was done abruptly on receiving a letter from town, which determined the course he was next to pursue, and which, with the alacrity of one accustomed to exertion, he determined to begin.

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And so, Adelaide," said he gaily, get ready your letters and messages—and kisses, if you have any to send-for in three days my grace expires."

Adelaide looked at him with the same soft smile which was peculiar to her features, but he could perceive her lip tremble—“ Dear, warmhearted girl!" said he, mentally, as he took her passive hand, but at the instant the smile vanished from her face, and tears, in spite of her evident exertions, made their way.

Ady, my darling Ady!" said the unconscious

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parent, proud of his daughter's sensibility-but Adelaide dashed the tears from her eyes, and made her escape from the room. Ormond mused for a moment, and then began a sigh, which ended in a 'phew!' She is such a child!' said he, as he took up the letter again, and turned his thoughts to business and the world. When Adelaide appeared at breakfast the next morning, Ormond might have observed a slight but momentary embarrassment in her manner, had he remembered the incident of the preceding evening; as it was, the colour rose unnoticed into her cheeks, and then faded into more than usual paleness. Before the end of the day, however, he could not help feeling that a change of some sort had taken place, and it was with surprise that he detected his thoughts, more than once, straying from the business that should have absorbed them into conjecture as to the cause of the effect.' Not that she was less gay than usual, or less kind, or less any thing; but her manner was different, whether in gaiety or kindness. There was nothing of reserve, he thought, either in her looks or conduct—at least it was impossible to affix the imputation on any particular glance or gesture-and yet he felt as if there was something in her air which repressed familiarity. He thought he should call her "Miss Ackfield." At dinner, Sir James, we