I grant you it is a serious one-a very serious question-but now for our whist. Come, Mrs. Briscoe, you love your rubber-sixpenny points. Come, St. Leger, you play."

But Mr. St. Leger either did not play, or preferred chatting with the girls, who were now re-established on the ottoman.

They were amusing themselves with a specimen or two of bad spelling in Mrs. Narrowsmith's invitation.

"There is no excuse for bad spelling," said Mrs. Martin, who was a disciplinarian in orthography.

"But some words are so difficult," said Adelaide Smyly.

"There is always a way of evading them," said St. Leger "as my countryman, Giles Eyre, did."

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How did he manage?” inquired Barker.

"A friend invited him to dine, and he wrote an answer excusing himself on the ground of a fit of the gout. Some time after, his friend met him, and expressed his surprise at his having had that complaint, as it was not in his family. That's the truth,' said Giles Eyre; none of us ever had it in the memory of man.' . Then,' asked his friend, what did you mean by saying in your note that the gout prevented your dining with me?'. Och,' said Giles, 'that's aisily explained-would you have had me lose my time spelling rheumatism?" "

There was a good laugh at St. Leger's story, and then Mr. Spread renewed his endeavors to make up a whist.

Laura Smyly plays," said Augusta Spread.

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Very little, sir," said Laura, gayly; "but I'm at your service if I'm wanting.

The Smyly girls were up to any thing-girls of the world-no nonsense about them, extremely amusing and easily amused, the very girls for country-houses, buxom, handsome, frolicsome, mettlesome girls; they rode, walked, danced, sung, and were both capital talkers and capital listeners, the latter a valuable accomplishment in both sexes, and a rare one..

"But we want a fourth," said Mr. Spread, counting his numbers. "Come, Barker, you must join us; Miss Smyly will not undertake dummy."

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Decidedly not, sir,” said Laura, laughing.

Barker had no objection to cards, but he played whist vilely. Moreover, he was a little weary after the day's journey, and was disposed to be refractory; but Miss Smyly had impressed him favorably by her rebuke of Philip, and he liked her all the better for the good-humored alacrity with which she had consented to play. De

termined by these considerations, he condescendingly sat down to play one rubber, every body marveling to see him so gracious. Such a whist as it was! Miss Smyly and Mr. Barker versus Mrs. Briscoe and Mr. Spread. Every body was delighted when Laura cut with Mr. Barker. But not one of the four players had the slightest real knowledge of the game. Hoyle would have either laughed or wept, had he been a looker-on. There was a reciprocal

disclosure of hands before three cards were played-at least, a whist-player of any acuteness might have concluded almost to a certainty how the several suits were distributed.

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"I suppose somebody has trumps," said Mrs. Briscoe, commencing the conversation.

"I depend on my partner," said Mr. Barker.

"Don't depend upon me, sir," said Laura. "I always hold such abominable cards-don't I, Adelaide? She doesn't hear me, Mr. St. Leger is so very amusing."

"I say nothing," said Mr. Spread, puffing his cheeks, and looking mysterious.

"Have you no diamond, Miss Smyly?"

Mrs. Briscoe had just played a diamond, and Laura had played a heart.

"Diamond-to be sure I have lots of diamonds."

"We'll forgive her this time," said Mr. Spread.

"I'll never do it again, sir, said Laura.

"Until the next time," added Barker, with a playful grunt.

"I'm sure I thought nobody had diamonds but poor me," said the old lady. "Where can all the spades be?"

“I know somebody could answer that question," said Miss Laura Smyly.

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Spades are trumps, are they not?" asked Spread. Certainly, it is of great moment at whist to knew which suit is the trump, but there is not a little disadvantage in postponing the inquiry until tho middle of the game.

"It makes very little difference to me," said Mrs. Briscoe. "Nor to me, ma'am," said Laura.

"Whist is a scientific game," said Mr. Spread, revoking, as he spoke, in the most transparent manner, but nobody took the least notice of it.

"The rest are mine," cried Barker; "we make the trick.” "Pardon me, Barker, the trick is ours."

"Yours!-one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-we make two tricks."

"And you had three honors," said Mrs. Briscoe, good-naturedly registering her adversary's advantages.

"Game!" cried Barker.

"I held the queen," remonstrated Mr. Spread; it fell to Miss Smyly's ace, and Mrs. Briscoe played the knave."

"Then we are only four," said Barker, counting two by honors, on the strength of the ace and king. It passed sub silentio, and so ended the first hand. The remainder of the rubber, it may be supposed, was equally scientific.

The Spread girls, Adelaido Smyly, Mr. St. Leger, and Philip, had, in the mean time, been very pleasant on the ottoman, or round about it. Philip was rallying Adelaide on her having rejected the addresses of a certain Tom Unthank, the dwarfish and monkeyfaced proprietor of an estate of three thousand a-year, in Herefordshire. Among other things, Philip warned her of what was proverbially said to be the fate of old maids-namely, to lead apes in a certain place not to be named to ears polite.

"I don't know," said Adelaide, "whether I shall lead apes or not in the other world, but no ape shall lead me in this, I promise you." Bravo, Laura!" cried Philip.

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My name is Adelaide, not Laura," said the young lady, looking as if she was hurt by Philip's blunder. He was very much annoyed at having made it; it was the third time that evening he had confounded the sisters.

CHAPTER IX.

I am the merry wanderer of the night.

Midsummer Night's Dream.

The Dispersion-Mrs. Briscoe's Anxieties about lazy Letty-The Smyly girls at Beauty-set-Mr. Barker in Bed-The Watches of the Night-Mrs. Briscoe's nocturnal Attentions to the Bachelor-Breakfast-Appearance of Owlet-The Pie of Pies-How Owlet ate it-Results of Mrs. Briscoe's Activity-Petrarch and Laura-What detained Mr. Owlet-Rehearsal of the Miracle Play of Balaam-Revival of an Eremitical Institution.

Now took place the dispersion to bed-rooms and dressing-rooms; the time was come for exchanging silks for dimities, and the arts of the milliner for the simplicity of nature.

"I dare say my poor Letty is asleep long ago," said good Mrs. Briscoe to Elizabeth Spread, as that young lady attended her up stairs. "I'll send mamma's maid to you," said Elizabeth.

"No, no, Bessie, my dear, I can go to bed very well without assistance; I'm used to it, my dear."

Elizabeth marveled, if such were the case, why Mrs. Briscoe incurred the trouble and expense of keeping a lady's-maid. As they moved along a corridor, the repose of some very industrious sleeper was painfully audible, and Mrs. Briscoe instantly recognized her poor Letty.

"Poor thing, she is not well," said the tender-hearted mistress; "the journey was too much for her; how heavily she sleeps! Wouldn't you say, my dear, she was feverish ?”—pausing, and hearkening with attention to the nasal performance of the slumbering maid.

'I should say, ma'am, she is very sleepy. Good-night, dear Mrs. Briscoe."

And Elizabeth went her way to the room she shared with her sister Augusta, paying the Smylys a short visit en passant, and a merrier pair of lasses, at beauty-set, than Adelaide and Laura, were not to be found north or south of Trent. Adelaide was maid to Laura, and Laura was maid to Adelaide. How they rated one another

about broken laces and tangled bobbins, tapped and slapped each other with fans and bouquets, bandied charges of inattentions and depredations; wished each other married, called each other geese, and having said and done every thing gay and girlish, foolish and funny, how they made a race for bed, as the last up was always to put out the candle. They almost died laughing when they heard of Mrs. Briscoe's anxieties for the health of Letty.

"I only wish she was asleep herself,” said Elizabeth; “I fear she won't sleep to-night at all, she took such very strong tea."

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Why did Augusta give it to her?" asked Laura. "She'll decidedly walk to-night," speaking of Mrs. Briscoe as if she was a spirit.

"I hope and trust she will visit Mr. Barker."

"What fun it would be," cried the other.

"Do you remember her at uncle Bedford's, Laura?" said Adelaide. "She was always watching the watch-dog, nursing my aunt's nurse-tender, and doctoring the apothecary's boy at Richmond. And, such an ear as she had for a mouse in a closet-"

"Or a bow-wow in the yard,” added Laura, jumping into bed. "Good-night, Elizabeth. Adelaide, bolt the door before you put out the candle."

Mr. Barker, meanwhile, was slumbering not quietly but deeply. He reviewed, before he slept, the occurrences of the day, and found several departures from the fixed principles of his life to upbraid himself with; he had suffered himself to be betrayed into several instances of bonhommie, had behaved more as became Mr. Spread than Mr. Barker; in short, though he had not sinned altogether intentionally, he felt lowered in his own esteem, and made a thousand resolutions to be more inflexibly unamiable for the future. It may well be supposed he did not forget, among other subjects of disagreeable reflection, the boorish simpleton in search of an uncle, with whom he had traveled part of the day. But the more he thought about him, he felt less and less uneasy, and even began to laugh at himself for being so very weak, as even for a moment to fancy it possible, or even probable, that there could be any consanguinity between them. Fear makes men as credulous as hope; and if he was to live in dread of being claimed as an uncle by the son of every man who chose to die in the colonies, a very harassing life he would have of it. All this was mighty well, as long as he remained awake, but Queen Mab is, of all ladies, the least trammeled by logical rules, and, accordingly, no sooner did Mr. Barker fall asleep than there was an end to all sound reasoning, and he went through a series of imagin

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