come into A poor helpless Sawney! I wonder what women the world for if it isn't to be good nusses. For my part, if he had been my sick father, I'd have had him on his legs agin in a jiffy-and then he might have got crusty with blue alum or whatever else he preferred « But madam- » Needlework and To have a dying parent before her eyes-and think of nothing but trimming his jacket ! » « A pretty Schoolmistress, truly, to set such an example to the rising generation! As if she couldn't have warmed him a soft flanning or given him a few Lavender Drops, or even got down a little real Turkey or calcined Henry. » "Of course, madam-or a little Moxon. And in regard to Conchology." « Conk what? » Or as to Chronology. Could you have supplied the Patient with a few prominent dates? » Dates! what those stony things-for a spasmodic stomach!» Are you really at home in Arrowsmith ? » "You mean Arrow-root. » " Are you an adept in Butler's Exercises?» What, drawing o' corks? » Could you critically examine him in his parts of speechthe rudiments of his native tongue ? » «To be sure I could. And if it was white and furry, there's fever. » Are you acquainted, madam, with Lindley Murray ? » Why no-I can't say I am. My own medical man is Mr. Prodgers." « In short, could you prepare a mind for refined intellectual intercourse in future life, with a strict attention to religious duties ? » Prepare his mind ---religious duties ?-Phoo, phoo, he warn't come to that! » « Excuse me, I mean to ask, ma'am, whether you consider yourself competent to instruct Young Ladies, in all those usual branches of knowledge and female accomplishments— » "Me! What me keep a 'Cademy! Why, I've hardly had any edecation myself, but was accomplished in three quarters end a bit over. Lor, bless you, sir, I should be as much at sea, as a finishing-off Governess, as a bear in a boat! » Exactly, madam. And just as helpless, useless, and powerless as you would be in a School-room, even so helpless, useless, and powerless was Miss Crane whenever she happened to be out of one.-Yea, as utterly flabbergasted when out of her own element, as a Jelly Fish on Brighton Beach! CHAPTER XIII. Relief at last! It was honest Hans the hired Coachman, with a glass of something in his hand, which after a nod towards the Invalid, to signify the destination of the dose he held out to miss Priscilla, at the same time uttering certain gutturals, as if asking her approval of the perscription. : «Take it and smell it," replied Miss Ruth, still with some asperity, as if annoyed at the imbecility of her senior but secretly worried by her own deficiency in the tongues. The truth is, that the native who taught French with the Parisian accent at Lebanon House, the Italian Mistress in the Prospectus, and Miss Ruth who professed English Grammar and Poetry, were all one and the same person not to name a lady, not so distinctly put forward, who was supposed to know a little of the language which is spoken at Berlin. Hence her annoyance. I think," said Miss Priscilla, holding the wineglass at a discrete distance from her nose, and rather prudishly sniffing the liquor, it appears to me that it is some sort of foreign G. » So saying, she prepared to return the dram to the kindly Kutscher, but her professional delicacy instinctively shrinking from too intimate contact with the hand of the strange man, she contrived to let go the glass a second or two before he got hold of it, and the Schnaps fell, with a crash, to the ground. The introduction of the cordial had, however, served to direct the mind of Miss Ruth to the propriety of procuring some refreshment for the sufferer. He certainly ought to have something, she said, for he was getting quite faint. What the something ought to be was a question of more difficulty-but the scholastic memory of Miss Priscilla at last supplied a suggestion. "What do you think, Ruth, of a little horehound tea?» ་ Well, ask for it,» replied Miss Ruth, not indeed from any faith in the efficacy of the article, but because it was as likely to be obtained for the asking for in English-as anything else. And truly, when Miss Crane made the experiment, the Germans, one and all, man and woman, shook their heads at the remedy, but seemed unanimously to recommend a certain something else. " Ruth-what is forstend nix? » Bnt Ruth was silent. They all appear to think very highly of it, however, " continued Miss Priscilla, and I should like to know where to find it. » " "It will be in the kitchen, if any where," said Miss Ruth, while the invalid-whether from a fresh access of pain, or only at the tantalising nature of the discussion-gave a low groan. My poor dear papa! He will sink-he will perish from exhaustion!» exclaimed the terrified Miss Priscilla ; and with a desperate resolution, quite foreign to her nature, she volunteered on the forlorn hope, and snatching up a candle, made her way without thinking of the impropriety, into the strange kitchen. The House-wife and her maid slowly followed the Schoolmistress, and whether from national phlegm or intense curiosity, or both together, offered neither help nor hinderance to the foreign lady, but stood by, and looked on at her operations. And here be it noted, in order to properly estimate the difficulties which lay in her path, that the Governess had no distinct recollection of having ever been in a kitchen in the course of her life. It was It was a Terra Incognita- a place of which she literally knew less than of Japan. Indeed, the laws, customs, ceremonies, mysteries, and utensils of the kitchen were more strange to her than those of the Chinese. For aught she knew the Cook herself was the dresser; and a rolling-pin might have a head at one end and a sharp point at the other. The Jack,, according to Natural History, was a fish. The flour-tub, as Botany suggested, might contain an Orange-tree, and the range might be that of the Barometer. As to the culinary works, in which almost every female dabbles, she had never dipped into one of them, and knew no more how to boil an egg, than if she had been the Hen that laid it, or the Cock that cackled over it. Still a natural turn for the Art, backed by a good bright fire, might have surmounted her rawness. But Miss Crane was none of those natural geniuses in the art who can extemporize Flint Broth-and toss up something. out of nothing at the shortest notice. It is doubtful if, with the whole Midsummer holidays before her, she could successfully have undertaken a pancake, or have got up even a hasty-pudding without a quarter's notice. For once, however, she was impelled by the painful exigency of the hour to test her ability, and finding certain ingredients to her hand, and subjecting them to the best or simplest process that occurred to her, in due time she returned, cup in hand, to the sick room, and proffered to her poor dear papa the result of her first maiden effort in cookery. What is it?" asked Ruth, naturally curious, as well as anxious as to the nature of so novel an experiment. « Pah! puh! poof phew!» spluttered the Reverend T. C., unceremoniously getting rid of the first spoonful of the mixture. It's paste-common paste ! » (To be continued.) VOL. III. 10 ILLUSTRATION OF TWO ROMAN SEPULCHRES OF THE AUGUSTAN AGE, Discovered BY THE ILLUstrator, chevalier g. PIETRO CAMPANA. [Sepolcri Romani, etc.] Rome, Monaldi. A green waste, almost tree-less and house-less, surrounds the Eternal City, reaching between her few, half-inhabited, forlorn outposts, up to her very walls, and stretching away to the feet of the mountains far off. How often, as we wandered over this desolate expanse of verdure, while absorbed in our meditations upon its numberless mounds and other ruinous memorials, how often did we imagine it a vast Grave-yardanother Eternal. City, a City of the Dead, whose mansions just heaved their roofs above ground, and whose denizens slept for ever beneath! So strong is the illusion, that even we, who are noways given to fanciful theories, felt at times persuaded that the hillocks after hillocks which rose before us, were the tumuli or barrows of a gigantic race,-Pre-Adamites, perhaps, or Ante-Diluvians, coeval and coequal with Behemoth and Leviathan, and those enormous nondescript creatures once existent though now extinct. But is not the Campagna, in truth, the cemetery of a bygone giant people? of their colossal works, too, as well as themselves? Are not these huge turf-clad undulations, in truth, heaped over a Titan brood, the cruel offspring of earth impregnated with blood? To what other name do their sanguinary temper, their prodigious energies, and their audacious deeds entitle them? If we did not |