to present the reader with a short sketch of the character of a person who is to perform a part in our little drama.

The Reverend Peter Goodenough, Master of Arts, Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, and Vicar of Overton-for we must introduce him in due form-was about fifty-two years of age, twenty of which he had spent at Cambridge, as a resident Fellow of Jesus College. He had not possessed the vicarage of Overton above eight or nine years; and, although its value scarcely exceeded a hundred and eighty pounds a year, so limited were his wants and so frugal his habits, that he generally contrived to save a considerable portion of his income, in order that he might devote it to purposes of charity and benevolence; but his charity was not merely of the hand, but of the heart; he fed the hungry, nursed the sick, and cheered the unfortunate. His long collegiate residence and studious life had imparted to his mind some peculiarities, and a certain stiffness of address and quaintness of manner which at once distinguish the recluse from the man of the world; in short, as Shakespeare expresses it, "he was not hackneyed in the ways of men." His face was certainly quite the reverse of everything that could be considered good-looking, and yet when he smiled, there was an animation that redeemed the irregularity of his angular features; so benevolent was the expression of his countenance, that it was impossible not to feel that sentiment of respect and admiration which the presence of a superior person is wont to inspire. His superiority, however, was rather that of the heart than of the head; not that we would insinuate any deficiency in intellect, but that his moral excellences were so transcendent as to throw into the shade all those mental qualities which he possessed in common with the rest of the world. He was well read in the classics, and indeed was so devoted to ancient authors, that he seldom lost an opportunity of quoting some favourite poet, and these quotations were generally apposite and sometimes even witty; for he would on occasion apply a passage in a sense never dreamt of by the poet, and yet so pertinently, that it seemed really intended for the matter in hand. He delighted in a lusus verborum in the Latin language; but of such contradictory materials was he composed, that he regarded a pun in English with an antipathy perfectly ridiculous in its intensity. His favourite, and we might add his only pursuit beyond the circle of his profession, was the study of antiquities. He was, as we have already stated, a Fellow of the

Society of Antiquaries, and had collected a very tolerable series of ancient coins, to say nothing of other objects: for though a coin bearing the image and superscription of our reigning monarch would pass through his hands as easily as water through a sieve, he grasped with insatiable and relentless avarice any piece impressed with the head of Antonine or Otho. His collection comprised specimens of Roman lamps and pateræ, pieces of old armour, a few small antique bronze figures, and some curious mediæval musical instruments. He was also to some extent a bibliomaniac, for he greatly prided himself upon the possession of certain old folios, first editions, quartos, Elzevir classics. Then he had black-letter ballads, and rare broadsides every one of which was at least a century and a half old; and, still better, he possessed a choice collection of early prints and woodcuts, including many fine specimens of Albrecht Dürer. As might be inferred from his limited means, his collection was not formed by lavish expenditure, but was, as he himself would sometimes hint with pardonable pride, the result of industry and discernment. Mr. Goodenough's figure exceeded the middle stature, and was so extremely slender as to give him the air and appearance of a very tall man. He was usually dressed in an old-fashioned suit of black cloth; but so awkwardly did these garments conform with the contour of his person, that we might have supposed them the production of those Laputan tailors who wrought by mathematical principles, and held in sovereign contempt the illiterate fashioners who deemed it necessary to measure the forms of their customers.

But let us return to the happy party at the Lodge, whom the reader will remember we left at their repast. This having been concluded, and all those various subjects discussed and questions answered, which the schoolboy, who has ever felt the satisfaction of returning home for the holidays, will more easily conceive than we can describe, Tom inquired of his father whether his old friend, Mr. Goodenough, the vicar, was well, and in the village.

"He is quite well," replied Mr. Seymour, "and so anxious to see you, that he has paid several visits during the morning to inquire whether you had arrived. Depend upon it that you will see him here early to-morrow."

"I hope I shall," said Tom, and in that wish the whole juvenile party concurred; for the vicar, notwithstanding his oddities,

OVERTON LODGE.

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was the most affectionate creature in existence, and never was he more truly happy than when contributing to the innocent amusement of his little "playmates," as he used to call Tom and his sisters.

Tom now proposed a ramble in the grounds, and his sisters readily acceded to his wishes, for they were desirous of showing him the new flower-beds which had been planned and completed since he left home. We invite the reader to bear the happy party company, in imagination, and thus obtain a glimpse of the beauties of Overton Lodge.

Mr. Seymour's residence, we must inform him, was situated on the declivity of a hill, so that the verdant lawn which was spread before its southern front, after retaining its level for a short distance, gently sloped to the vale beneath, and was terminated by a luxuriant shrubbery, over which the eye commanded a range of fair enclosures, beautified by an irregularly undulating surface, and interspersed with rich masses of wood. A piece of ornamental water was visible, winding among the trees and bushes in the lower part of the grounds, half hidden by the large oaks and spreading beeches; while on the east the eye rested on the picturesque village of Overton, with the grey tower of its church rising above the venerable yew-trees. The uniformity of the lawn was broken by occasional clumps of flowering shrubs, so artfully selected and arranged as to afford all the varied charms of contrast. Here and there a stately elm flung its gigantic arms over the sward beneath, and cast a deep shade which afforded protection from the heat of even the noonday sun of summer to the pleased spectator of the charming landscape. The grounds occupied a considerable portion of the valley, and stretched for some distance up the western part of the hill. Here might be seen flowering shrubs of every hue: the elegant foliage of the acacia was contrasted with the dark green leaves of the chestnut, and the gnarled branches of the oak were relieved by the gracefully pendulous boughs of the birch.

Several winding paths traced their mazy way through the wood, and the avenues were everywhere pervaded by the subdued light, except where the hand of taste had, here and there, turned aside the boughs, and opened a vista to bring the village into view, or to gladden the sight by a prospect of the distant landscape. At irregular intervals the paths expanded into little

verdant glades, set in the heart of umbrageous thickets; and each of these bosquets was adorned with a rustic edifice, or a fountain, or a sun-dial, or with a statue of some nymph or goddess, or the bust of an ancient poet or philosopher. In these adventitious embellishments of the sylvan beauty of the spot a connoisseur might have recognized the work of the earlier part of last century, for they reflected the classicism which then reigned paramount over all matters of taste, and which dictated in the arrangement of gardens and grounds a close imitation of Italian models. Thus it happened that artificial ruins, miniature temples, and other extrinsic ornaments were often employed to decorate even localities over which nature had profusely spread her own romantic charms. Now, in the vicinity of Overton Lodge, the combinations of the scenic features were so happy that, to enhance their beauty, but few touches from the hand of the landscape gardener were really needed, and those few touches had indeed been applied with the judicious art which knows how to conceal itself.

After having descended for some way, one of the paths, losing its inclined direction, proceeded on a level, and thus announced to the stranger his arrival at the bottom of the valley. What a rich display of picturesque scenery was here suddenly presented to his view! The path terminated in a rocky glen, where large masses of rock, grouped with unexpected boldness, formed a sylvan amphitheatre, which gradually rose to a towering height, and seemed to interpose an insuperable barrier between this sequestered spot and the haunts of men. Not a sound here assailed the ear, save the rustle of the summer breeze as it swept the trembling foliage, or the murmur of a small stream, which gently fretted as it encountered the slight obstacles in its

course.

We are amongst those who believe that the aspects under which external nature dawns upon the opening eye of infancy, and the scenes which are built up in childhood into the associations of home, have no slight influence upon the character and upon the happiness of after-life. To one whose early years have been spent amid fair prospects, recollections of quiet beauty will come back after the joyous freshness of youth has itself gone by; and many a pleasing mental picture will revive to solace his heart in the midst of the vulgar pursuits of the working-day world, and refresh his spirit in the din and toil of life's

THE COMPACT.

7

struggle. It is in the spring-time of existence, when curiosity and delight are poured around, that the sensibilities to the charms of nature are first awakened; and fortunate was it for our young friends, that their lot was cast where their latent sympathies might be called forth by bright flowers, and waving woods, and flowing brooks, and rocky glens, and glorious land

scapes.

Such were the scenes among which, on this summer afternoon, our affectionate party strayed with fresh delight. And now returning to the mansion as they walked across the lawn, Tom asked his papa whether he remembered the promise he had made him, on quitting home for school, of furnishing him and John with some new toys and amusements during the holidays. "I perfectly remember," said his father, "the promise to which you allude, and I hope that you equally well recollect the conditions with which it was coupled?-when the midsummer holidays' commenced, I would successively supply you with new amusements, whenever you could satisfactorily explain the principles of those you already possessed. Was not that our contract?"

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"It was," exclaimed Tom, with great eagerness, "and I am sure I shall win a prize whenever you will put my skill to a trial -at which trial I hope mamma and my sisters will be present." 'Certainly," replied Mr. Seymour, "and I trust that Louisa and Fanny will not prove uninterested spectators, and even Rosa is of an age to understand some of the subjects. Little John, too, will profit by our scheme; for I shall often require for illustration certain toys which can scarcely afford any amusement to a boy of your age and acquirements, and it is but fair that they should be transferred into his hands.”

"Thank you! thank you! dear papa," was simultaneously shouted by several voices, and the happy children looked forward to the morrow, with that mixed sensation of impatience and delight which always attends juvenile anticipations.