husband, in whom were blended the fiercest and most impetuous passions, which distinguish the natives of a tropical clime.

"As we have given Mr. Middleton our promise," observed Matilda, in reply to her sister's suggestion of relinquishing her intended visit, "of course we cannot do otherwise than keep our appointment; but I do hope, Julia, you will never, again, be led into such a very objectionable undertaking."

"I very much regret having promised, now, Julia," said madame Lauza, sinking into a chair, while a death-like yellow overspread her beautiful features, "you have no idea how my heart beats. What a poor, nervous thing I am. Your solemn lecture has quite terrified me. I really feel as if something dreadful was about to happen ;—but it is silly to give-way to these imaginary fears. Let us go, Julia, if we must-the sooner we are there, the sooner we will return;—and if there is any impropriety in our making-tea for an old friend, like dear Mr. Middleton, why you will have the delightful privilege of scolding me, who am the culpable party, as long as you feel inclined to do so."

A few moments, after these words were spoken, the ladies were on their way to the little, Swiss cottage, which, perched on a gentle eminence, and commanding a delightful view of the sea, stood at, almost, a convenient stone's-throw, from their own residence. The door was opened by Mrs. Maberly, a tidy-looking, old fashioned dame, in a black-silk coal-skuttle bonnet; black-thread mittens; and black-velvet shoes. She cast-up her hands with an air of agreeable surprise, on beholding the ladies, and in a mysterions whisper informed them, that there was a handsome, little man in the parlour, and so clever, that he was actually engaged in painting Mr. Middleton's portrait.

She had scarcely finished this interesting communication, when Mr. Middleton suddenly emerged from the parlour, his spectacled countenance beaming with happiness; and, greeting the ladies most cordially-for he had arrived at the second bottle of port, he insisted upon their walking-in, that he might introduce them to a very esteemed friend of his, who would be delighted to make-their-acquaintance.

So saying, he ushered them into the dining-room, where his guest, with a camel'shair pencil, and a box of water-colors, was occupied in putting the last finishing touches to the miniature, which he had undertaken, at Mr. Middleton's own suggestion, and with Mr. Middleton's grateful consent.

Mr. Middleton hastened to introduce his guest, who rose at the entrance of the ladies, and politely offered madame Lauza a chair.

"Madame Lauza,' 'Mr. Edwin Stanley Clare,'-'Mr. Clare,' 'madame Lauza and miss Leighton.""

Judging from his appearance, Mr. Edwin Stanley Clare might have been between. six and eight-and-twenty years of age. His complexion was, perhaps, too fair and delicate, to be quite consistent with our ideal of manly beauty-a profusion of flaxenhair, falling in curling clusters on his shoulders, while the softer emotions which blue-eyes are best adapted to express, were somewhat at variance with the broad and massive forehead, announcing an order of intellect with which they are-not commonly associated. His figure was slender, and somewhat beneath the average

standard, but his erect and graceful deportment, more than compensated for a deficiency, which some few considered rather to increase than detract-from his personal recommendations. He wore a mulberry-colored frock-coat, of exquisite fit, and a plain, black-silk cravat. There was nothing in his appearance, to indicate that he belonged either to the house of Peers' or the 'Royal Academy'—his toilet being distinguished by that unstudied simplicity, which good-taste prescribes, when combined with a reasonable deference to conventional models. The only ornament which he exhibited, was a small brilliant, which sparkled on the little finger of a hand, which, by its delicacy and proportions, was the unquestionable sign-manual, of gentle, if-not aristocratic birth.

The formal introduction of Mr. Edwin Stanley Clare to his visitors, having been completed, Mr. Middleton entreated the ladies to go-up-stairs, and take-off their bonnets.

"We cannot stay—we cannot, indeed," said Julia, sitting-down, contrary to her sister's previously expressed injunction.

"You think so," replied Mr. Middleton, giving his guest a significant look; "but, after tea, we'll go into committee upon that question." Then, wheelinground his easy-chair for miss Leighton's accommodation, she was, with some reluctance, prevailed-upon to accept it.

“I was having my portrait taken, for the first time these six-and-twenty-years," observed Mr. Middleton, fetching a couple of wine-glasses from the beaufet, and placing them beside the decanters of port and sherry, which already graced the festive board.

"It is a very humble attempt," said Mr. Clare, shewing madame Lauza the production of his pencil, at which she expressed her unqualified admiration.

"Capital likeness-is it not?" cried Mr. Middleton, surveying his vera effigies at arm's-length. "Then, ugly old people-ahem!-are so much more difficult to deal-with, than some handsome fellows I could name. If Mr. Clare would only condescend to take you, miss Leighton, his fame," and Mr. Middleton clapped-hishands, emphatically, "would literally extend from pole to pole."

Madame Lauza and Mr. Clare both smiled at this innocent witticism; but Matilda averted her eyes, and expressed no inclination for the honor proposed.

"I should be most happy," said Mr. Clare, glancing from madame Lauza to her sister, as if he was mentally comparing their personal attractions; "but I havenot sufficient confidence in my own skill, to imagine, for one moment, that I could succeed in a task, where the artist must necessarily fail, unless he can realize perfection."

"Hear! hear!" softly ejaculated Mr. Middleton, tapping the table to notify his approbation of this reasonable compliment.

Perceiving, however, that Mr. Clare had-not made that favorable impression upon Matilda, which he had anticipated, Mr. Middleton did-not repeat his proposition. At all times, averse from the society of strangers--quick in her perception of character, and firm in her sentiments, whether of antipathy or attachment, Matilda detected in the countenance of Mr. Clare, a something which excited her distrust

and caused her to wonder where Mr. Middleton had found that integrity and candour, which he had ascribed to him as his peculiar characteristics.

Matilda had intended to impress upon her sister the necessity for their immediate departure; but the sudden appearance of Mrs. Maberly, with the tea-tray, at once rendered their present escape impossible. Madame Lauza, on the other hand, saw nothing at all objectionable in Mr. Clare's demeancur or conversation; and feeling, moreover, that opposition, if attempted, would be futile, consented to preside-over the tea-urn, the duties of which office, by her graceful manners, she invariably performed in Mr. Middleton's presence, so as to occasion both surprise and enchantment. "My friend Clare," said the old gentleman, after an application for a supplementary lump of sugar, "met with a very pretty and interesting, little adventure, this morning."

"Now, my dear sir, I beg—” replied Mr. Clare, coloring slightly, and raising his hand in deprecation of the report, which so alarmed his inherent modesty.

"O, do let us hear it, Mr. Middleton," cried Julia, laughing; "you know how long it is since you rendered us your weekly account-and, consequently, how deeply you are in debt to us."

66

Well, my friend Clare shall pay my debts-come," said Mr. Middleton, “then you shall hold me discharged and exonerated, henceforth and for ever."

"I should be sorry to withhold any information which might contribute to your entertainment," observed Mr. Clare, addressing the ladies; "but the incident to which, I presume, my friend, Mr. Middleton, alludes, is one of such a very simple and frivolous nature, that it would really be quite unjustifiable for me to spend another word upon it."

"Don't you believe him, madame Lauza," cried Mr. Middleton. "I assure you, that it was so beautifully affecting, that, when I heard it, it absolutely brought tears into my eyes."

"Excited by the severe trial to which your patience was subjected," rejoined Mr. Clare, with one of his politest smiles.

"We must hear this little, romantic incident, Mr. Clare," said madame Lauza, in her sweetest tone. "You know how dangerous it is to excite our sex's curiosity." "If he won't tell it," returned Mr. Middleton, warmly, "I will tell it for him— that's flat."

"Mr. Clare again urged the triviality of the transaction, which his host had invested with such unwarrantable importance, but finding that Mr. Middleton and his fair visitors, or, at least, one of them, for Matilda still remained discreetly silent, persisted in their requisition for the interesting episode in his adventurous career, Mr. Clare, at last, like a sagacious statesman, judiciously yielded to the 'pressure from without,' and, with evident reluctance, thus described his participation in an adventure, which reflected so brightly upon his kindness of heart, and his artistical genius :

"Among the passengers, on board the steam-packet, which brought me from Dieppe to Southampton," he commenced, "was a very curious-looking character, a Parsee or Lascar, I should imagine, from his complexion and costume, for he wore

a twisted turban, a white tunic, and a crimson-and-orange-colored shawl, which gave him a very picturesque and pleasing appearance. He was accompanied by a little girl, about five or six years of age, and whose little, round, tawny face, and lively black eyes, caused her to be much noticed by several ladies on board, from whom she received presents of various descriptions. Though it was a beautiful, sunshiny morning, there was sufficient wind stirring, to occasion an accident, which, however simple in itself, was productive of rather serious consequences. About an hour after leaving Dieppe, as I was conversing with a lady, who was sitting on one of the benches in the after-part of the vessel, holding a small, green parasol over her bonnet, a sudden gust of wind, unceremoniously wrested the parasol from her hand, and sent it floating on the sparkling waters, with the stick uppermost, presenting the appearance of a bark, disguised for some infantine Neptune, or other deity of the briny wave."

Mr. Middleton looked at madame Lauza, and both smiled at a conceit of so much beauty and originality. The author, however, effected-not to observe this token of their approval, and continued his narration, as if nothing had happened to exalt him in his own esteem.

"Though not materially concerned at her loss, the lady, finding her parasol so unexpectedly wafted from her, uttered a slight and involuntary exclamation, as ladies will, under such circumstances; upon which the Lascar, who happened to be standing near, and not being acquainted with our European modes and feelings, put a very serious construction. The result was, that, before I, or any other person could prevent him, he dived over the side of the vessel, into the water, and swimming towards the buoyant parasol, soon succeeded in reaching it, and bringing it safe on board, much, however, to our worthy captain's indignation, who declared that he would'nt have stopped his engines for fifty parasols, had-not that great smoke-dried booby, thought-fit to risk-his-life to save three-and-sixpence to a lady of fortune."

"He did-not pay your friend's parasol a very high compliment,” romarked madame Lauza, who appeared much interested in the story, and could find no fault with the manner or address of the speaker. Matilda's prejudices, however, could neither be removed nor shaken.

"Ladies' parasols," rejoined Mr. Clare," are things upon which I do-not consider myself competent to place a valuation; but that does-not affect the morale of my story, which now assumes somewhat of a personal aspect, and which, as my kind friend, Mr. Middleton, insists upon my repeating, why, I do so, at his risk, for I am sure it is quite unpardonable to exhaust your patience with anything so frivolous. Upon him, therefore, must devolve the pains and penalties which I should justly incur, were I speaking without his authority."

"Proceed, friend Clare," said Mr. Middleton, stirring his tea with philosophical deliberation,"reserving to yourself the right of apologising, as much as you think proper, when you have finished your tale."

That is a privilege," said Julia, "of which, from consideration to us, I am sure Mr. Clare will-not take-advantage."

"You are very flattering," replied Mr. Clare, with a slight inclination. "May I trouble you for a very small piece of sugar. I believe my hero of the tawny visage had just come on board—had he not?-after his immersion, bearing the recovered parasol-the dripping monument of his untutored gallantry. Having restored the fugitive to its fair and grateful owner, who, of course, rewarded him with a liberal guerdon, the poor, simple fellow was about to descend to the cabin, for the purpose of drying his garments, when he paused, and thrusting his hand into the front of his tunic, with an air of vivid apprehension, he suddenly burst-forth into a paroxysm of grief, in which his little girl, by the force of sympathy, was, naturally enough, soon induced to participate. Happening to know a little of the Hindostannee language, I accosted him, and with difficulty learnt from him the cause of his distress. It seemed that the child which was accompanying him, was his grand-daughter, and that her mother, whom he described in the exaggerated style of oriental eloquence, as a young woman of surpassing loveliness, had died shortly before his quitting Madras on his voyage to this country. In some way or other, which he did-not explain, he had obtained his portrait—a miniature, I should presume-which he had carried about him, with a riband suspended from his neck. This souvenir, unfortunately, in his recent, aquatic performance, had become detached from its place of consignment, and was no-where to be found,-sunk, most probably, some twenty fathoms deep, never, again, to gladden his fond, parental eyes. In this pitiable dilemma, the poor creature's lamentations were at once ludicrous and affecting, and a friend of mine having suggested that we should open-a-subscription to console him for his loss, I thought the better way to pour balm into his wounded spirit, would be to set-about painting as close a fac simile of the portrait, as his own vivid description of the original would enable us to do, and taking for my guide the child whom he represented as her mother's living picture (assisted of course with a little imagination of my own) would enable me to furnish. Having the requisite materials in my portmanteau, I set-about the task, and, in a few minutes, with some Indian-ink, and a piece of card-board, had dashed-off such an exquisite representation of a Numidian Venus, that the poor fellow was in a transport of extasy on beholding it-pressing it to his lips, smiling upon it with passionate tenderness, and pouring-forth the expressions of his admiration, with a volubility that rendered him irresistibly amusing, and perfectly unintelligible."

This long story having been brought to a happy termination, Mr. Middleton hastened to introduce to his fair visitors, the subject which, for a considerable time past, had so frequently engaged their united attention. A protracted shower of rain, however, which set-in shortly before the lunar eclipse was anticipated, completely destroyed the prospect of witnessing the celestial phenomenon, for which he had made such extensive and judicious arrangements. Mr. Clare, however, had no cause to regret the circumstance, as it afforded him the opportunity of escorting home, beneath the shelter of his german, silk umbrella, the ladies, in whose company he felt so much pleasure, although he could-not but perceive that, with respect to one of them, he might as well have wasted his sweetness on the desert air, as to any favorable impression which his intentions were likely to produce. Guided by