much too big before as behind, the lapelles slouched down in front, yet did not nearly reach his waist, while the cuffs were high above his wrists. His trousers had been made for him, though the coat had not, but made before his growth had ended. They would neither meet his rusty waistcoat nor his thick shoes. Below the trousers, which clung closely about his legs, was an ample space of black worsted stocking, now loaded with dust. His high shoes, heavy and large, gave his feet a massive and clumsy appearance, totally disproportioned to his slight frame. A white neckcloth, somewhat soiled, was twisted untidily round his throat, affording no support to the unstarched collar above it. A broad shovel-brimmed hat, which had seen good service, partly shaded his face. His figure, from the effect of his misshapen garments, looked singular and grotesque enough. But his countenance, when fairly seen, was one of those that rivet notice and admiration. His complexion, as fair, pure, and delicate as that of a beautiful girl, was tinted with the colour that comes and goes with varying emotion, lighting up the whole face, and giving it vivacity and expression. His features were of rare regularity, the mouth small, and

the full vermilion lips disclosing even teeth of remarkable clearness. His eyes, large and well opened, with lashes that would have been too conspicuous if of a darker colour, were as blue as the summer's sky, and with the liquid lustre and soft mild intelligence which betoken sentiment, rather than strength of character. A profusion of hair, the colour of the silk the worm spins, and as glossy and bright, hung in waves round his neck, adding to the singularity of his appearance. With this faultless grace of feature he had a largeness of contour that prevented his countenance from partaking in the slightest degree of a feminine cast. He was of that age which hovers between youth and manhood, when strength is added to impetuosity of feeling, and the gates of life reveal their earliest and fairest scenes to the vigorous and hopeful existence that crosses their threshold. When he raised his hat, which partly slouched over his head, from his brow, and a fine clear unruffled surface of forehead was seen, he appeared a perfect example of what we imagine to have been Saxon beauty when, a thousand years ago, the sea-heroes of the north, the Hengists and Horsas, with blood uncorrupted by admixture with other races, carried their

flag in triumph over the deep, commissioned by Heaven to renovate the vigour of degene

rate nations.

Whoever had closely observed him must have been struck by the strange contrast between his face and his dress; but for himself, engrossed by the scene, and the emotions it excited within him, he was either unconscious of the strangeness of his attire, or wholly indifferent to it. He was among the most eager of the spectators. The show had for him all the pleasure of novelty. Never had he seen before so graceful a combination of splendour, luxury, and beauty. The most illustrious of the departing guests he viewed simply with curiosity; but his eyes sparkled, and his whole face became flushed with colour, when forms of female loveliness, all smiles and apparent happiness, swept past, giving him, as in some happy vision of the early morning, glimpses of the glittering and seductive life, which to young, sanguine, and inexperienced minds appears like Paradise itself.

A teacher in a suburban school, this was his first holiday in London, and he was determined to make the most of it. He had spent the morning in picture-galleries, where

every piece excited in him new ideas and new sensations, and seemed to open for him a new volume in life. He read chapters on every scrap of canvass. Thoughts and incidents, which were before for him mere abstractions, became here vivid realities. The great remains of the past-the various life in distant climes of the present-the tales, half-forgotten in his mind, of heroism, of romance, of suffering, of devoted lovethe most picturesque aspects of nature-the finest creations of poetry—the rarest visions of fancy-he read with an instructed mind, but with an unskilled, though enraptured, eye. Flushed and excited, he left these works of art to view what there was most gay and charming in reality.

Of a temperament which loves to dream of greatness-the greatness of splendid lifewithout force of will to attain it-he had imagined in his early studies some sudden turn of fortune, such as he had read of in books, which should cast his lot with that of the high and noble. He had an aptitude for pleasure, but none for severe study. He pined that he had been born in so low a state; and, though he prudently avoided all expression of discontent, he could not avoid

feeling it, or from indulging the dejection with which it inspired him.

These sentiments became a hundred times more vivid as he saw the magnificence of the condition from which fortune had excluded him. He thought of the continual pleasure of contemplating what there was most poetic and beautiful in creation-of days of joyous fête ever new in their variety—of the world of amusement the great city presented-of the society of men of genius and wit, the public idols-and of evenings of song and dance and music, in splendid saloons thronged with creatures bright and graceful as those that every moment glanced past him. With that state he contrasted his own, dull and wearisome-toil without hope, labour without dignity or reward.

As he stood in this mood watching the still departing carriages-the enchanting forms they contained-their marked aristocratic bearing, gracious yet proud-the luxurious or languid air the rolling chariots gave them the choice flowers they boretheir elegant dresses their ornaments, so tastefully disposed to heighten their beauty -their shawls, that gave glimpses of the graceful shapes they shrouded;-these, with