It was a rainy, an unmistakably rainy day that sort of dull, dogged, determined downfall that drowns hope at once, most ignobly, in a gutter yes, drowns her, beyond hot bricks and bellows. You cannot warm her back to life-you cannot blow new breath into her lungs: you feel gloomy, heavy, unspeakably stupid. If the soul was a spark, as some bards have denominated her, she is in danger of being extinguished altogether; for your spirits are most unquestionably damped. You envy the very roof of the house: there are spouts to carry off the abounding fluid, but none to relieve your overcharged mind. There the rain seems accumulating still-one grey, leaden, watery deluge. In parts of the tropics, when it rains-though sooth to say the rain is still heavier there when it does fallthere is something rather animating, rather exciting, and exhilarating in the scene. The water comes down with a rush and a roar that startles you; it is a cataract from the very clouds; the noise is almost like the noise of the sea; it is grand and wonderful a stirring, restless, stormy, noisy, agitated scene! But here, the steady, sapping rain hath so dismal a slowness, so chilly a dulness: it is such a respectable rain! so safe-going and well-conducted! it would never wash you off your horse (it washed a poor lady off her mule at Panama) or out of your gig-not it (which a tropical rain would be very apt to do). It would content itself by giving you plenty of rheumatism, and your death of cold! Aye, it might wash you into your coffin! but all fair and smoothly, drop, drop, drop-pretty fast, too, but steadily, always very steadily-a John-Bull-sort of rain, persevering, quiet, taking hold of the day, and keeping hold with a sort of bull-dog pertinacity. Will it ever give in, till it melts the world away, dragged through its own mire? It is enough to put an end to all teetotalism; even Father Mathew himself would, perhaps, feel slight symptoms of incipient hydrophobia! and the very Priessnitz himself, were he here to-day, merely from being over-watered, might go through a process of proper water-cure, in the way of being cured of all predilections for water. Though it may heal some mortal ills, what suffering hath it alleviated like those it inflicts, in the form of rain? It comes as consolation and compensation, in sooth; and it cannot easily liquidate that debt, let me tell it, with all its liquid lavishment.

The country-inn that I am in seems half becoming an ark, and floating on the bosom of the

waters! The land we live in seems melting from us, to one entire sop! "Rule Britannia (?), Britannia rules the Waves;" but the rains rule Britannia sometimes, and very tyrannically, too; and instead of brandishing her trident, she had better put up a thick cotton umbrella, and wear a good dreadnought over her shoulders, and a reasonable beaver over her brows, instead of the Roman helmet that is usually represented as adorning them! Heigh-ho! patter, patter, splash, splash! If there are any shower-bath makers in this neighbourhood, perhaps they are more to be pitied than I am. They must see utter ruin staring them in the face; for showersick must everybody be for twenty years to come at least-so at any rate I should say, from my present feelings.

How abominably happy those unsympathizing, ugly name as a term of endearment? Dear unfeeling ducks look! How can we use their little duck, indeed!-malevolent monsters! With what wicked enjoyment they waddle and splash, there, just before my eyes, as though to say, "You tyrants, who slaughter us unmercifully full often, see how all-compensating Nature makes us happy when you are wretched! Next time you eat duck and green peas, remember this; and don't boast of your superiority too much! A puddle can make us happier than a principality makes some of you. Quack! quack!"

I must move from the windows; the sight of that ecstatic duck, yonder, is too much for me; my philosophy is in an inverse ratio to duck felicity. Hideous, hateful things, I would sooner call a pet child or a pet dog my screechowl, or my sweet little alligator, than my duck, in future: stay, there seems a more sober and quiet one-for really some of them seem to become intoxicated on water! indeed, who knows but the fumes of the thousands of public-houses, in our not over-sober country, may ascend faintly to the clouds, and thence faintly descend again, and slightly alcoholize this rain-water, quite enough to puzzle and perturb the brain of ducklings? He appears to compassionate the miserable, featherless biped, man, without

webbed feet.

While gazing on that happy party, I had felt how flattered they would have been, had they known our term for such a bathing as they were enjoying was a ducking! I left the window, and took up a newspaper lying on the table. My eye is caught by the pathetic announcement that bobbin-net

is dull. Poor bobbin-net! Perhaps it rained at Nottingham. "Mule-twist is languid; potatoes are looking up" (probably that species called the pink eyes); "jaconets are depressed!" I feel for them from the very bottom of my heart! But what is this?" Flour is lively!" Ah! I groan inwardly, and envy flour savagely. I read no more: I care not, in this melancholy mood, for the information that pigs has riz, or mangel-wurzel fallen; no fall, were it awful as the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, or the fall of China itself (in the china closet, I mean): no fall, in short, whether of mangel-wurzel or the funds, of foreign stock or Nottingham stockings, can affect me now; nothing but a fall in the barometer. Fate seems to have resigned her shears for that redoubtable instrument; in fact, empires, dynasties, constitutions, and institutions might depend on this same barometer. Imagine such a rain as this at Paris! Our volatile friends would not, probably, recover their spirits under half-a-dozen of revolutions at least. The first two or three might flash in the pan, their powder would be so damp.

One more saunter to the window, resolved to ignore the ducks, and be deaf to the exulting voice of quackery. Behold, a fly or chaise from the neighbouring station has stopped at the

door! I gaze on dissolving views of two nondescript creatures, that were once horses, and that now look like the damp remains of prodigious rats. If ever they had any fiery spirit of their own, after all this watering, it is assuredly only half-and-half now, and very strong of the water it must be! They look as if they would drop, and do drop too, not in the common sense of the term; but the rain is pouring off them and on them in showers. Flowing manes, indeed, and streaming tails! What weather! In our Anglo-Saxon tongue, weather seems almost to hint "wetter!" Only take out the h, and in Germany you have pretty nearly that horrible word itself! Oh! if our climate could be regularly tapped! it might afterwards be endurable to live in it.

Such discontented reflections arise in the mind, when everything is seen through a rainy medium; and then, your vexation can find no natural vent in tears in this case; no, indeed, 'tis too much water already! Might not another drop make the cup overflow, and set us all swimming? In this damp atmosphere, too, could we ever dry our tears again? We might go weeping about like a willow, or the crying philosopher!

JULY, 1730.

Extracts from the Diary of my Great-
Grandmother.

Five o'clock.-Got up an hour before my usual time to distil surfeit-water. Said my prayers. Finished one of my father's new shirts. Mem. To send to town for some currants, raisins, and ratifie water.

Six.-Some poor women came for medicine to my mother; gave out of the store-room several doses, and a pint of sack. Mem. To carry two shillings to Tom, the carpenter's wife, who is ill.

Seven.-Breakfasted. A card has come from Mr. Jenkins, to let us know he will do himself the pleasure of dining with us. The match debated during breakfast. My father says, if he finds him a man of good morals, he'll not differ as to the settlements. I am ordered never to be alone with Mr. J. until all the writings are drawn.

Eight.-Read the Psalms and chapters for the day. Taught little Jemmy his catechism. Mem. Betsey has marked J. in her sampler today that stands for Jenkins.

Nine.-Darn some old point-lace tuckers. Do some clear-starching and ironing for next week.

Ten.-Go see the carpenter's wife. Her family

in very great want. Give them a shilling from my own pocket-money.

Eleven.-Sit down to my cross-stitch. A shepherdess the subject, for an urn-rug.

Twelve. My mother orders me to make a custard-pudding, to show Mr. Jenkins what I can do. Orders me to wear my best gown at dinner, and only two patches. Mem. I mean to appear in my new hoop, and laced stomacher. Mr. J. is a man of figure, so will look to my appearance.

One.-Too much ratifie-water in the pudding. Mr. J. praised some hare of my potting. I begin to like him vastly well, but must not let him perceive it. Mem. Our currant wine just out. Mislaid the key of the corner cupboard. Thinking of Mr. J.

Two.-Miss T. and her lover stepped in to tea. Promise her receipt for pickling mushrooms. Mem. Mrs. Hart's receipt for burns very good. Must have it in the house. Garlick syrup excellent for coughs.

Eight,-Supper. My brother tells me Mr. Jenkins is very wild. Mem. Never to see his face again.

SATURDAY, MARCH, 1778. Notes from my Grandmother's Pocket Diary. Two o'Clock-Arrived this moment in town;

We have been three days coming from S in our own coach. Just put off my ridingdress, and huddled on my green gown, to get to the milliner's, mercer's, &c. Overjoyed to be in town, so have no appetite for my dinner.

Four.-Going out with Miss Tendril. She tells me coque de perle necklace and earrings are much in vogue. Mem. To teaze my mother until she gets them for me. Arrive at Truefit's. N.B. Truefit the first modeste in the world. Ordered a cane hat, lined with cerulian blue Persian, trimmed with blonde lace and ribbons, for walking in the Park, and making morning calls. Mem. Must bespeak two pairs of white leather shoes, with red heels, and bindings to correspond. Advised to have a Saint Teresa of sarsnet and blonde lace, as 'tis the latest mode. Ordered it at once. Mem. Blonde lace ruffles, with a large slope, vastly genteel. Uneasy till I get them.

Eight.-Go home, fearing I may miss Mr. Cleveland. He advises, as my shoulders are rather round, that my stays be made high behind. He says 'tis quite the thing to have them 80. I have desired they should be cut low before, as it shews the chest off to advantage.

Sunday. Eleven o'Clock.-Had no rest last night, anticipating the pleasure of the week to come. Too late for church. I shall dress time enough for a ride in the Park.

One.--Miss Wyndham has called for me. Go to Mrs. Emerson, to engage her to matronize us to an assembly to-morrow night. Mr. walked up to speak to us. An acquaintance of Miss Wyndham. A fine well-made man, improves on better acquaintance. He took great notice of me, and told Miss W. I was a prodigious fine girl. Miss W. jealous, and anxious to return home, he offered to escort us. Miss W. complained of headache, and would not speak. I improved the opportunity, by chatting away merrily to Mr. all the way home. Mem. To get a green Persian calash, same as Miss Wyndham's. Mr. praised it, so I won't be outdone.

Seven.- Mr. invited to dinner by my mother. I engrossed all his attention. He is very rich.

Eleven.-Desired Mary to waken me at two in the morning, to have my hair dressed. It will be done in about four hours.

Monday. Two in the Morning.-Crumpe just arrived. Read Damon and Ella, whilst my head is being operated on. A sweet book!

Seven. My hair finished. Mem. Crumpe the first hair-dresser in Europe. Only 463 black pins in it. No other could have accomplished it with less than 470.

Eleven.-Out shopping with Mrs. Emerson. Take the round of the fashionable milliners. Bespeak a grenadier cap of blonde lace, with a Mary Stuart peak. Saw a lovely clouded lutestring at Ball and Campbell's. Resolved to have it. "Tis very much genteeler than Miss Wyndham's.

Twelve.-Had a glance at Mr.

They say half the reigning belles are dying for love of

him. Charming creature. Mem. To dance the first minuet with him to-night, if possible.

One.-Much fatigued from tumbling over silks, &c. Tried on my new negligée. Mem. Must not go to the assembly until ten. Country hours will not do here.

Tuesday. One.-Paid so many visits yesterday before the assembly, that I was tired, and out of sorts. Mr. danced with Miss Wyndham half the night. Well, to be sure, what taste some people have! She looked downright frightful. Her fortune is a large one, that covers all defects, I suppose. I am mortified, have a bad headache, and wish our stay in town was at an end. I have just heard that Mr. proposed for Miss Wyndham last night. I shall cut her acquaintance most certainly.

DECEMBER, 1820.

Leaves from my Mother's Journal.

Tuesday, Dec. 2nd.-The boxes containing my trousseau have just arrived. My cousin Annie and I busy unpacking them. Annie to be my bridesmaid. low brilliant her colour is today: she looks very lovely, and will grace our wedding. Of course dear Edward is charmed with her, for my sake. My wedding-dress is of white lace, gored on the hips, and quite tight down to the knee, where small flowers, headed with thick wadded rolls of white satin, commence. The body is just one finger deep in front, and a little deeper behind. The dress is made low, for the ball on the evening of the wedding; and with it has come a white flowered satin spencer, covered with small white tassels on the front, and with a stiff standing collar, which looks very stylish. My hat is composed of blonde and satin, and has six full ostrich feathers in it, three at each side, the two end ones being very long, so as to fall gracefully on the shoulders. Madame Lion has sent, amongst other things, a blue cloth pelisse, trimmed with sable; the price of it is thirty-five guineas. Edward made Annie try on some of my things to see how he liked them. Strange that it was not me he wished to see them upon. Dear Edward, how thoughtful he is-he made me retire to my room very early, saying I looked fatigued. Annie did not follow me until twelve o'clock, and seemed flushed and slightly agitated on entering the room. She says I look so pale I should wear a little rouge. "Tis a fashion I never yet adopted.

Wednesday, Dec. 3rd.-Papa and dear Edward all day in the study, closeted with Mr. Grabb, our attorney, arranging about settlements. To-morrow I shall be the happy bride of him whom I adore. Guests arriving all day. I saw Annie coming out of the shrubbery with dear Edward, before the dinner-bell rang. What could they have gone there for? The hour late, too, for walking, and the evening cold and damp.

Here the manuscript ceases; for when morn came-that morn so longed for-Edward was missing; and stranger far, Annie was nowhere

faithless pair had eloped together, and the following day were united at Gretna Green. Long did my poor mother pine and mourn her sad fate. But at length brighter days arose for her; and in my dear and honoured father she found what she had long searched for-a congenial, loving, and honest heart. M. E. H.

"Bridget, hand me my handkerchief." "Yes, ma'am; the one with the lace border?"

"That's all, Bridget; you needn't wait." So Bridget obeyed this order too, going down the three pairs of stairs to the basement kitchen, and back to her task of polishing the silver.

"Oh dear, how forgetful I am! giving myself the trouble of ringing twice. I think bell-pulls, if they are old-fashioned, are a great deal more convenient than knobs, Cousin Augusta." The goodnatured face looked in at the bedroom door again, flushed with hurrying up the stairs the fifth time within an hour.

"Oh, Bridget, my work-box; it's in the endroom on the sofa. Can't you find it? Well, look in Cousin Augusta's room; I had it there yesterday morning."

There are two long halls and a flight of stairs between the rooms; but Bridget, a young Irish girl, with a slender figure, showing rapid growth, and not much strength to sustain it, hurries away, for it is high time the dining-room was in order. The mantel clock warns her the luncheon-table must be ready in three-quarters of an hour.

"How long Bridget is! I must have left the work-box there, in plain sight; but the Irish are so stupid!" exclaimed the young lady, with increasing impatience.

"I do not remember seeing it this morning," Mrs. West said, quietly. " Bridget!"

"Yes, ma'am; I'm looking, but I don't find it."

"Stupid creature! It's almost one, I declare. I sha'n't have ten minutes to sew; but the box might as well be found. Bridget!" And a stamp of the slippered foot emphasized the last call over the banisters.

"It isn't there, ma'am," said the girl, appearing from below; "I've looked everywhere." She could not help thinking Miss Danforth unreasonable; and there was the silver lying on the kitchen-table, and the marketman, and

grocery-boy, and dustman, coming and going, perhaps. But to have vented her impatience and uneasiness, as Miss Danforth did, by even an altered tone of voice, would have been considered as impertinence, and perhaps led to dismissal. Yet Irish waiter-girls are only human, and have not high breeding to help them to control their tempers.

"I declare, Bridget, you don't earn your salt! Look in the blue chamber, somewhere, can't you? Don't answer me back again; no impertinence, Miss. What if you have looked? Look again; keep looking till you find it.”

No wonder Bridget mutters a threat of giving warning, as the clock strikes the half-hour.

"Isn't that it on the dressing-table, Bridget?" suggested Mrs. West, looking searchingly around the room herself.

"Thank you, ma'am ; it is, indade." And a grateful expression came into her large grey eyes. "Miss 'Ginia towld me the end-room."

"Never mind what I told you. 'Twas your place to hunt for it until it was found somewhere. And don't let me hear any more of your impertinence when I tell you to do anything."

The scowl came back to the girl's face as she hurried away to her work again.

"Bridget!"-Miss Danforth's head was over the banisters now, the call arresting the girl in the lower hall-" Get Mrs. West's lunch as soon as possible, and bring mine up here. I haven't more than time to dress before Miss Powell comes," she said, looking back, apologetically, to her cousin. "You won't mind lunching alone, will you? I've been so hurried all the morning. Callers seem to put everything back."

"I? Oh, not in the least. I was only thinking, Virginia, if you had not almost as much time to go down for your lunch as Bridget has to bring it to you.”

"Her time's no consequence," returned the young lady, carelessly. "Did you see how impertinent the creature was? Servants all are, nowadays."

Mrs. West said no more in the defence. I