this was liè the first. "Did you ever eat any thing like it be foré?" "Never"-replied the other more firmly', for then she knew that she spoke the truth', and longed to add', “and I hope that I shall never eat any thing like it again'.' "I will give you the receipt'," said the lady kindly'; "it will be of use to you as a young housekeeper'; for it is economical' as well as good`, and serves to make out when we have a scrap-dinner. My servants often dine on it." "I wonder you can get any servants to live with you," thought the guest"; "but I dare say that you do not get any one to stay long! "You do not,

however', eât as if you liked it'." "O yes indeed', I do věry much',' (lie the secònd',) she replied; "but you forget that I have already eaten a good dinner';" (lie the third'. Alas! what had benevolencé, so called', to answer for on this occasion'!)

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"Well, I am delighted to find that you like my sprats"," said the flattered hostess', while the cloth was removing; adding', "John'! do not let those sprats be eaten in the kitchen!” an order which the guest heard with indescribable alarm.

The next day they were to set off for the country-house', or cottage'. When they were seated in the carriagé, a large box was put in', and the guest fancied that she smelt garlick'; but

"Where ignorance is bliss^,

'Tis folly to be wise "

She therefore asked no question s'; but tried to enjoy the present, regardless of the future. At a certain distance they stopped to bait the horses. There the guest expected that they should get out', and take some refreshment; but her economical companion, with a shrewd wink of the eyé, observed`, “I always sit in the carriage on these occasions. If one gets out, the people at the inn expect one to order a luncheon. I therefore take mine with me." So saying, John was summoned to drag the carriage out of sight of the inn windows. She then unpacked the box', took out of it knives and forks', plates', &c'., and also took a jar^, which', impregnating the air with its effluviá, even before it was opened', disclosed to the alarmed guest that its contents were the dreaded sprats!

"Alas!" thought shé, " Pandora's box was nothing to this'! for in that', hopè remained behind; but at the bottom of this is despair'!" In vain did the unhappy lady declare^, (lie the fourth',) that she had no appetitè, and', (lie the fifth',) that she never ate in the morning. Her hostess would take no denial. However', she contrived to get a piece of sprat down', enveloped in bread'; and the rest she threw out of the window', when

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her companion was looking another way',-whó, on turning round', exclaimed', so you have soon despatched the fish'! let me give you another; do not refuse because you think that they are nearly finished; I assure you that there are several left; and', (delightful information!) we shall have a fresh supply to-morrow!". However, this time she was allowed to know when she had eaten enough'; and the travelers proceeded to their journey's end.

This day, the sprats did not appear at dinner`;-but, there being only a few left', they were kept for a bonne bouche,* and reserved for supper', a meal, of which', this evening', on account of indisposition', the hostess did not partakè, and was therefore at liberty to attend entirely to the wants of her guest', who would have declined eating also', but it was impossible; she had just declared that she was quite well', and had often owned that she enjoyed a piece of supper after an early dinner. There was, therefore, no retreat from the maze in which her insincerity had involved her; and eat' she mūst: but', when she again smelt on her plate the nauseous composition', which being near the bottom of the pot was more disagreeable than ever', human patience and human infirmity could bear no morè; the scarcely tasted morsel fell from her lips', and she rushed precipitately into the open air, almost disposed to execraté, in her breast', potted sprats', the good breeding of her officious hostess', and even benevolence` itself.

LESSON LXVIII.

PILGRIMAGE TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS.-EXTRACTS.

It was not dark when we entered the secluded, hill-embosomed settlement', where we were to pass the night. The little romantic retreat of Conway we had left behind us', lingering there only long enough to exchange a low-breathed word or two of knightly courtesy with wit and beauty', which', in the form of lovely woman', had made this mountain-shadowed village their home for a season. Never did that beauty appear so resistless amid the music and shade-lamps of the coteries at P., as it did there among the simplicities of nature.

We flung ourselves from horse and wagon at Hall's. The notable judge was then living, the wonder and curiosity of his region. As we dismounted at his quiet and grassy door, the old man was bowing and smiling', with his eye full of sport',

* Pronounced bon boosh. A French phrase for last bit, a choice bit

and his cheek full of tobacco', and expressing his welcome in all the varied' but homely honesty of his manner. He was decidedly of the old school. It spoke in his coat' and inexpressibles; in his hair' and his hat'. Then his broad mountain Yankee was inimitable. No one could stand before it', seasoned as it was with just that idee* of self-importancé, that made it notorious without being offensive. He received us heartily, and in proper time had us down to a tablé, whose viands were surpassed only by the colony of daughters he contrived to congregate about it. On all sides of us, flashed their mirthful and beautiful faces', and on all sides went their pattering and Camilla-like feet', in the tireless services of the house. The whole establishment was in the way of rugged', honest hospitality. It was in a state of continual overflow at this season; and our own little band furnished but a trifle of the aggregate which it daily found it necessary to accommodate. As we sat before the hissing urn,' flanked by milk bowls and whortleberry pies', the eye very naturally turned with something of an inquisitive glance towards the kitchen firé, which gleamed through a half-opened door', and round which were gathered the dusky forms of four or five Indian females. They were of the St. Francoist tribe, passing up through the hills, on their way to Canada. They furnished a wild picture, sitting about the hearth in that uncertain light', their long hair floating about their shoulders', and their basket-stuff scattered at their feet. As we pushed through the room', I observed that they were preparing some rude repast in the corner, mingling the various articles of their meal with the reeking smoke of their pipes', and the peculiar guttural murmur of their monosyllable conversation. We left them that night to the floor and their blankets; and before we were astir the next morning, they were threading the hills towards the Notch of the White Mountains. But it is out of the question to dismiss our landlord in this summary way. He deserves something more. The country hereabouts had aforetime thought he deserved all the honor it could command; and so the district had trooped him off to Washington in the unsurpassable, the climacteric capacity of a representative of the people. How long he served, and how well', it would be needless for any book to tell, for his own tongue knew the story best', and certainly best it could relate it. The pride of this old servicé, and of the old recollection', was amusing', dashed as it was with various curious anecdotes in the broad language of the narrator, and sprinkled with a due accompaniment of

*Vulgarism for idea. Two syllables only.

+ Saint Fran-say; or, in plain English, St. Francis.

tobacco juice, ejected wherever it might happen', under the influence of a secret', but apparently irresistiblé, chuckle. Whether he had ever soiled' the erminé, in this or any other way', we don't pretend to say`; but it is nevertheless trué, that in addition to his honors at the capitol', our quaint friend had', in other years', also sustained the dignity of judge. Indeed', this title held by, while all others had deserted him; and as "the court," we naturally addressed him, during our protracted sitting under the story-spinning spirit which seemed to have taken possession of the whole man. The night waned apace under our laugh and glee. Still the judge held on'. His tales were like an endless screw^, or the Saco under the force of a freshet; and as there appeared to be no probability of the bottles being corked, while we sat to witness their pouring', we found it convenient to ask the road to our chambers', if we intended to resume the other in the morning. Still' the tongue wagged'; and even as we went straggling up the narrow stairs', bearing our lamps before our gaping visages', the judge kept company, determined that nothing should remain half tōld, if he could help it. In short, the good old man could scarce refrain from seating himself quietly on an old trunk in the chamber', and discoursing the night' out'; and we found nothing would dō, but incontinently throw off our clothes, and thus bow the old chronicler from our presence. As it was' he was obliged to go in the midst of a parenthesis'; but he saw there was no hopè, and so retreated with his arm half lifted in the way of asseveration. A sumptuous breakfast', spiced by the quiet drollery of "the court',” and the admirable attentions of his household', set us forward under excellent auspices. Every mile now increased the interest of the routè, and every hill assumed a new character', grouped in, as it was', to form a portion of the lifting and gathering panorama. We were now fast approaching the celebrated gorgè, and ere noon found ourselves descending that wild raviné, at the foot of which stands the humble and rude residence of Crawford', the experienced guide of these overshadowing mountains.

The old man received us with a wintry smilé, (he never laughed in the world!) and a sort of guttural welcome. We informed him of our wish to employ his services in the ascent', and he expressed himself ready almost on the instant. There was little preparation for one of his mercury.* He was ever in good guise enough for a start, for nature had given him a dress that was proof to all trials here among her fastnesses.

*Temperament.

Accordingly, having arranged the inner and outer man for the expedition, we set forward with our iron-muscled conductor, along the winding, ascending pathway. The scene was full of sublimity. Often the mountain torrent crossed our coursé, dashing from rock to rock', to lose itself in some ravine, whose depths the eye could not penetraté, and over which the pine sighed', as it had centuries before, to the passing Indian. Sometimes we came upon an opening, that disclosed to us', far up and away', the path of the avalanché,* that had carried destruction to the land below', in some tempest of former years. It was in the early afternoon when we issued upon that green and beautiful spot', then occupied by the Willey family', since that time so suddenly and awfully destroyed. It was warm and still. The smoke curled peacefully up from the humble roof, and quiet and content abode theré, in their most attractive garb. Nothing could present a stronger contrast than this spot, as it was then', itself offering to the eye every feature of loveliness and repose that could be desired', and overshadowed on every side by the gigantic ridges of the mountains', and the same ground', as it was when we stood upon it', after that terrible night', when ruin went thundering through that valley. The spot is now sealed-stamped by desolation. There is no green grass there; there is no life. The low house still stands as it did', but it is silent. They who made its roof a place of welcome to the weary traveller', and conducted him about the various rugged recesses of its picturesque neighborhood', sleep the long sleep beneath the huge rocks that lie scattered about its deserted door. That door lies flung from its hinges'; the walls are rent', and the fox looks out of the window. Who has not read the tale of that night of horror'! And whó, as he stands over that ruin', does not feel how blind is man', and how vain his calculations'! That humble family heard the rush of the coming earth. They thought to escape, and fled', affrighted', through the darkness of midnight. They were crushed and buried in an instant. Had they remained still upon their pillows', they had lived to tell the tale.

*

*

*

*

It was hardly daybreak when we were roused to gird anew', if we wished to witness the sun's first appearance over the mountain ranges. With renewed spirits', and a shout', we sprung to our feet', and in ten minutes had resumed our line of march through the Dedalian forest. The ascent continued as difficult and spongy as before, and it was not until we had cleared the heavier growth of pine and fir', and issued into a

* Av-a-lansh.