Hardflint, man and boy, these sixty years, at your ladyship's service."

"Well, John Collins, though you are not the Colin I expected, you are a man of merit, and I will put you on the list of my pensioners. It is a shame that those white hairs should be exposed to rain and wind in a life of hardship any longer."

"Thank you, my lady," returned the shepherd, in the English tone, between surliness and gratitude; " but I should take to my bed, I'm morally sure, if I'd nothing to do; and it's second nature to be among the fields like."

"Well, give this poor man something," said lady Claremont, as she commended her usual guests to the care of the housekeeper. Her ladyship then began pacing the room in an uncommon degree of vexation and displeasure." Barclay is so stupid," she said, speaking of her confidential maid; "she never did such a silly trick as this in her life before. What I am vexed at is your disappointment, Miss Somerville.

Somerville. I had prepared such a delightful, romantic evening for you."

"Till I know what is my disappointment," said Julia, with well-assumed gravity, "your ladyship must allow me to be insensible to its greatness."

Instead of answering her directly, lady Claremont continued to repeat-" Vexatious! perplexing! never saw any thing so awkward!" till Julia's curiosity was really roused; and at length she condescended to explain the singular scene.-"The whole circumstance," resumed her ladyship, "originated in Barclay's misapprehending my orders. I wanted to give you the pleasure of seeing and hearing Mrs. Bayntun, the celebrated milkwoman, and Colin, the South Down shepherd; and instead of that, the foolish creature sends me a real shepherd and a real milkwoman."

"And what are the others?"

"Two prodigies, patronized by lady Felicia Melcomb and myself. Colin, the South

South Down shepherd, who served a farmer on Mr. Melcomb's estate, made verses before he was twelve years old; and Mrs. Bayntun is still more extraordinary, for, with scarcely any education, she has already written poems, novels, and tragedies."

Julia might have remembered lady Claremont had a poetical enthusiasm, from the admiration she had heard her express for the poetry of that very lady Felicia Melcomb; but she had yet to learn that a literary production, from either of the two extremes of society, was received by her ladyship with almost-equal transport. Possessing a very pure taste, and with a tendency rather towards the correct than the marvellous, Julia had always experienced a disinclination to prodigies of this description; but, though expecting little gratification from the promised treat, she had too much good-nature to raise any objections, particularly as she saw that lady Claremont was persuaded it would afford her pleasure. Accordingly, on an evening

evening more propitious, they had Colin and Lucy (for such were their names) to tea. It did not appear to Miss Somerville that the poet and poetess liked one another. Each eyed the other as if they thought themselves the superior, and did not like to be classed together; and both seemed equally awed and embarrassed by the presence of Miss Somerville and lady Claremont. Colin, the shepherd, though plain, had something interesting in his appearance; but the woman was coarse, vulgar, and masculine, and in no way outwardly superior to the real milk woman, as lady Claremont phrased it, who daily served her ladyship with cream. Finding the evening passed heavily, lady Claremont whispered Julia, in the true spirit of a lion-leader-" This is very dull work— what say you to a walk? We'll take them to the cliffs-perhaps that will inspire them."

Her ladyship accordingly directed her stroll towards the sea-side, and when ar

rived among its finely-wooded cliffs, requested Mrs. Bayntun would awaken their echoes with some of her pastoral effusions. To this she readily agreed; but her voice was so untunable, and her manner so bad, that it was a real relief to the party when she had finished her recitation.

It was now time to ask Colin: but, though the shepherd had really an eye for nature, when musing among her awful solitudes at night, or in the stillness of gray morn, called up by the unfolding star*, he seemed, in such unaccustomed company, cold, timid, and embarrassed; and lady Claremont, despairing to animate him, turned to Mrs. Bayntun, and began talking to her of her works. The gentlewoman, not having much tact, took the opportunity to ask the ladies subscription to a novel she had in the press, and then began abusing the London managers for refusing her tragedy. After a few turns,

* Look, the unfolding star calls up the shepherd.

she

SHAKSPEARE.