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be told; but he first made a dead stop, then shook the stranger by the hand, and asked him how he had been this long time. Then seeing him look somewhat surprised, he begged his pardon, and finding himself awkward and confused, he called his son to his aid, and introduced him to both the gentlemen very ceremoniously.

Mr. Wilmot bowed, and gazed upon his future pupil, with that kind of easy smile that instantly made pride, vanity, and all the army of self-love, take arms in Charles's bosom, to repel that quiet kind of usurpation of authority which he thought it expressed; and had Charles found him in the least deficient in any point, his spirit of resistance once roused, would never have given way in the least. But it happened otherwise, for every hour shewed him the superiority of his new companion; and he soon became glad to secure the friendship of one with whom he could not contend. Yet Mr. Wilmot made no display of his talents; he was grave, spoke

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seldom, seldom, and quietly; but whatever he did say was sure to monopolize all attention, and force its way directly to conviction. · Charles had lately only been accustomed to mix with the fashionable society of London, where he found himself equal to any in elegance, and superior to most, both in information and accomplishments, or with the neighbouring country gentlemen, who could not enter into any com· petition with him, and consequently he

had over-appreciated his own abilities; but Mr. Wilmot was so farabove either, that he felt all his confidence in his own acquirements leaving him very fast.

Sir Charles Melville was as much struck and delighted with their new acquaintance as his son had been, and all arrangements between them were speedily concluded. To Mr. Malden he expressed himself highly obliged for the pleasure he had procured him, and begged that he would make a short stay with them at Broomhill, before they went to London to make

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the necessary preparations for their tour. Mr. Malden readily accepted the invitation, and Caroline Melville seemed to think the society of the young clergyman a great addition to their party, to the great amusement of Charles, who declared he had never seen his sister enter into a regular flirtation with any one before.

Mr. Malden, though several years older than his companion, was of a much more lively disposition, entering into all the amusements of those around with cheerfulness and alacrity, while Mr. Wilmot avoided society as much as he could, and spent the best part of the day in his own apartment; but yet there was a charm in his conversation that made all seek for it, and a superiority in his deportment that made the very proudest yield him respect and attention.

Mr. Malden did not leave the party at sir Charles Melville's till the day before they set out for London; and on his departure received a pressing invitation to renew his visit on the first occasion that he conveniently could.

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On the next day, very early in the morning, the whole party, including Mr. Wilmot, commenced their journey in one of the worst days that that time of year can produce. Sir Charles Melville, who was peculiar in many things, carried the hastiness of all his movements into travelling as well as every thing else, and whatever was the length of his journey, he proceeded night and day, being seized of a holy horror at sleeping within the walls of an inn, which greatly discomposed all parts of his family but himself.

Caroline as usual did not fail to remonstrate on the present occasion, but in vain. This was a point on which the baronet was immoveable, and consequently on they went.

When morning dawned the next day, they found themselves passing the lions at the gates of Sion House, and shortly after arrived at famed Hyde-Park-corner,

which presented itself to their view with all the decorations of a London fog, of that bright yellow description that makes the place look like a great city in the jaundice.

Certainly the most melancholy time to enter London is at seven o'clock on a morning of misty November, before the streets are filled with their busy and peculiar multitude, or are adorned with the gay shop windows, wherein the people, like the eastern nations on rejoicings, have displayed “their richest stuffs and finest carpets." But at that time, which is only fit for yawning and lighting fires, nothing is to be seen but the bare, sloppy pavement, occasionally trod by some labourer trudging to his unceasing toil, and the dirty window-shutters tightly fastened to the well-smoked brick walls, except where some housemaid washes the stone before the door, or some more early shopkeeper slowly pulls out the fastenings, and lets the dull light into the reluctant gloom of

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