Miss Susan L, a young lady whose countenance, according to report, was a complete alphabet of expression. "Give me a kiss," was written in legible characters on the rosy tablet of her lips, and "for shame, you naughty man," twinkled in parenthesis between her eye-brows. Nor was this physiognomical language deficient in the necessary punctuation. Notes of admiration and interrogation lined both dimples of her cheek when she suspected our genealogist of love or infidelity, and a full stop shone in her eye when he pressed her too rudely before strangers.

To this nymph the whole village looked up with awe, as to the future mistress of the Windsor Castle. Despite of her intimacy with the landlord, no one ventured aught to her prejudice. The barber, who on other occasions was a wight of inconceivable loquacity, on this subject was discreetly silent, well knowing that if he gave vent to gossip, the numerous glasses of ale which he would otherwise coax from the landlady elect, when her lord's head was turned another way, would vanish like the Barmecide's dinner into thin air. The apothecary too, who I have reason to suppose knew more about the matter than he chose to communicate, had many pleasant anticipations touching a snug seat by the inn fire-side, which he was loth to lose for

H

But

the pleasure of retailing apocryphal scandal. notwithstanding this general taciturnity, a few malicious anecdotes were circulated through the village by an old lady who it seems had once taken a fancy to our landlord, and who asserted, that he was one night detected on his knees before Miss Susan, to the infinite discomfiture of the parish curate, who was entering the apartment with a similar declaration of love. But these family secrets are beneath the dignity of a sage historian; and as the virgin who gave rise to them is since gathered unto her fathers, I should be loth to rip up old grievances, to the neglect of my tale, and the scandal of its hero.

Well then, to proceed; it came to pass, that one evening, the Eton and Windsor coach licensed to carry six inside and twelve out, set down the authorized number at the door of the Castle. They were cockneys from the classical neighbourhood of Eastcheap, who, freed from the toils of the counter, were going up the river to Eton with the sensible intention, as the landlord termed it, of supping at his domicile on their return. It was a sad evening for such an excursion. Large masses of clouds were seen floating loosely along the grey horizon, and anon clubbing together as if in full divan on the subject of brewing a storm; and those

good-for-nothing jades, the moor hens, appeared to take a spiteful satisfaction in screaming its announcement. The more rational part of the community endeavoured to persuade their companions to postpone the treat, but as our landlord was of opinion that the weather would clear up, a division took place, and the demurrers were left in a fearful minority.

From the moment of their departure, all was confusion at the Castle. Boots was dispatched on a victualling embassy to Windsor; waiters, chambermaids, scullions, each had their apportioned duties, nor was the fat cook excepted. Night meanwhile drew on, the sun had long since set behind a wild canopy of clouds, and the shadows of the neighbouring woods deepened along the surface of the Thames. At this instant the faint shouts of the returning party were heard, and in an instant all was ready for their accommodation.

Fain would I descant on the abundance of fish, flesh, and fowl that graced the supper-room. Fain would I laud the incomparable virtues of spruce beer, and do justice to the well-sorted marriage of a beef-steak with oyster sauce. But themes like these are as much beyond the compass of my. intellect as my pocket. Suffice to say, that when supper was concluded, the spirits of the company

had reached an enviable state of exhilaration. The landlord too was called in to contribute his share to the mirth and punch of the evening, and dubbed nem. con. vice-president of the cockneys. When the glass had circulated with tolerable freedom, the news of the neighbourhood was canvassed, and one person happened unfortunately to mention the arrival of Lord L in the village. The two eyes of our genealogist flashed oblique fire at the intelligence. Here was an opportunity of displaying his learning! could it be passed over? undoubtedly not. "Lord L-, gentlemen," he exclaimed, crossing his legs with unusual importance, "do you know who Lord L-is?" "No," said one of the party. "I believe," added another, "that he is the member for Windsor." "Lord L-," continued Boniface, "is the son of his Grace the Duke of Bwho was the son of Douglas surnamed of Hamilton, third son of Robert of Dalkeith; in virtue of which relationship he bears four quarterings on his arms, as thus, the first, a boar passant argent between three roses argent, the arms of the houses of York and Lancaster; the second, a lion rampant, to show-.” "We will not trouble you further," said one of the party. "We are convinced of your knowledge," hiccuped another; an opinion which the whole

assembly cheerfully agreed to take for granted. By this time the conversation became general, and a fresh bowl of punch was ordered, the landlord expressly declaring, that there was not a headache in a hogshead of it. It soon however, shared the fate of the other, and on a sudden he appeared to remember that there had been as yet neither song nor sentiment. This was a master stroke of policy, inasmuch as it procured an accession of punch, taxed however by a song from Boniface, who prided himself not a little on the goodly compass of his lungs. Would that I could say as much for their melody; but strict justice compels me to assert, that let the tune go which way it will, like Matthews, he was always "at home." He married for instance, "Love has eyes" to " Ally Croaker," and even terminated, "Will you come to the bower" with the "Jolly young Waterman."

With these drawbacks upon his science, the party soon received a surfeit, and as almost every topic had by this time been discussed, it only remained to wind up the evening's entertainment with a few ghost stories. The night was well suited to such subjects. It was dark and stormy, just the season in short that a goblin would select to visit his old acquaintance. It is in times like these, when the spirits take their tone of action from the hour, that