said Mrs. Macaw, with an air of quiet satisfaction; "and never let her come into it again."

"To be sure! Ha! ha! ha!" responded Matthew. "That's the very thing I've been looking for. Nothing but an angry wife conld fulfil our purpose. All your noisy fellows that are coming down from London won't do it. One spirited woman will."

"Yes," was Mrs. Matthew's emphatic reply. "So make the best use of your time, my dear, with Sybil, and get her to dislike the bride before she arrives, by letting her know there are people who think ill of her. Then, when the first breeze blows, Sybil will come to us, with her confidence, of course."

"Why, what a capital schemer you are, my dear," observed the lady, with quite a smile upon her countenance, (which was generally uncheerful).

"You can let her know that there's a home for her, if the other should become unpleasant. And when the estate is ours, we can find employment for her there for she'd make a good governess for our Maria,

and

:

What more he would have said is not to be told, for Mrs. Matthew Macaw brought him up suddenly, with such a fierce ejaculation, that he subsided at once into silence.

"Matthew!" cried the indignant lady. It was but that one word; but it comprehended a volume of reproaches. "What! bring the beautiful Sybil into my house-to live there to display her fascinations and exercise her artifices where her personal charms and actual merits are acknowledged by one who should see personal charms in me alone! No, no, no, Mr. Matthew Macaw, NO."

Mr. Macaw knew that his wife meant all that, and a great deal more; so he went off into a "Ha ha ha!" and then remained silent for the remainder of the journey home.

CHAPTER V.

AN EVENING AT THORNHILL MANOR

"Though wit may flash from many a lip,
And mirth distract the breast,
Through midnight hours that yield no more
Their former hope of rest.

"Tis but as ivy leaves around

The ruin'd turret wreathe,

All green and wildly fresh without,

But worn and grey beneath.-Byron.

THE impression which Sybil had made upon Jasper Thornhill, was by no means of that decided and dangerous character which the

Macaws supposed. He was simply pleased with the appearance and manners of one whom he had mentally pictured as a rough, uncultivated country girl, who had enjoyed the run of the kitchen. He entertained no idea of falling in love, for indeed, his nature had long since ceased to be impressible. It has been observed that there is nothing so dangerous to a young bachelor as being in a house with pretty girls, for he is sure to fall in love with one or the other of them, imperceptibly, or one or the other of them is sure to fall in love with him; and they only find out how the case stands, on leave-taking. The young lady, with red eye-lids and lacefringed handkerchief, mamma with smirks and smiles, hoping the agreeable bachelor will soon return, and so on. There are more matches said to be made up in country houses than in all the west end of London ones put together. But Jasper Thornhill had no longer a heart to be captivated; no longer affections to offer. He had been deceived too suddenly and fatally to admit of serious thoughts of love again. If, after a period of doubt and uncertainty, disappointment had come, it would not have fallen so seriously; he would have been, as it were, prepared for it but at the very height of joy and hope, he had been cast down to despair. The false one whom he adored, triumphed in the misery which she had wrought.

He could never love again! thus Jasper Thornhill had long thought, and he thought so still. Nevertheless, he was pleased with the artless grace of Sybil, and felt sorry that he should have made arrangements for her annoyance. The next post carried letters to town to postpone the visit of his friends, assigning indisposition as the cause of the delay; but the merry companions were not to be put off they had made up their mind to what they called " a lark," and a lark they were determined to have. To the mortification of Jasper, he received the following letter:

"Dear old fellow,-We are all sorry to hear you are ill, and so we all think it the more necessary your friends should come to enliven you. It would be base ingratitude to leave you to be bored to death by your horrid rustic "legacy." So we come; that's positive; and we mean to turn the old house out at windows, for the edification of the natives. I am getting on with the trombone beautifully, and can manage 'Sweet Home' without stopping. I've also got as far as the first half of God save the Queen,' and

if the other half is wanting, I can give you a blessed row instead, which will be quite as good. We'll have lots of fun. I've made a new acquaintance, (a capital fellow) since you were in town, and I intend to bring him with me. You'll be delighted to know him. We call him simply Rory; but to introduce him in full fig, I must describe him as Roderick O'Flaherty, Esquire, of Castle something, Mountbog, I believe I forget the exact name of the place, but it's in Ireland; and he comes of an ancient race- a lineal descendant of the kings-Brian Boru, and all that sort, you know. As good-looking a fellow, too, as you ever saw, and will guarantee to fall in love with a pretty girl at a moment's notice which is a great thing for you-for if your precious encumbrance be not as ugly as my grandmother, he'll make himself agreeable in no time. So cheer up, old fellow, and when you hear the sound of the trombone, be assured relief is nigh, and that the notes are played by yours by the dozen, till death, and a twelvemonth afterwards,--ALF. SHORTER."

At any other time, the thoughtless levity of this communication might have amused Jasper; but now it distressed him,

The more he saw of Sybil, the less disposed he was to subject her to annoyance; or to do what would seem disrespectful to the memory of his mother. In the three days that had intervened between his arrival at Thornhill Manor, and the receipt of Alfred Shorter's letter, he had been impressed, not only by the unaffected grace of Sybil, but also by the qualities of her mind, which he found pleasure in eliciting, and by some rare accomplishments which the old lady, her benefactress, had been careful that, she should possess: for, seeing nothing but excellence in the child she had taken under her protection, and encouraged and rewarded by Sybil's devoted affection, she had lavished upon her all that love could conceive and bestow.

And this was the girl whom Jasper had invited and riotous friends to drive from gay his house.

All he could do now was to write to Lady Wickford and her daughter, pressing them to come at the earliest convenient period; believing that the presence of those ladies would be a better protection than he himself could afford. He also sent down to a small country seat which he possessed in Leicestershire, for an old housekeeper who resided there, to come up forthwith; and forthwith, accordingly, Mrs. Jillipip arrived. This arrival, however, did not prove satisfactory;

for, greatly as Jasper might have admired Mrs. Jillipip in his childhood, it was palpable to him now that she was a paragon of silliness, and a full-blown model of vanity.

He would rather have been without the presence of Mrs. Jillipip; but she had come in obedience to his summons, and he could not drive her away at a moment's notice. The mental anxiety which all these things produced, occasioned real illness, and for three or four days Jasper was in a state of fever, and the medical attendant was called in, who, after prescribing the necessary remedies, said, with a matter-of-fact air, that the patient might now be left to the care of Sybil Meadows.

"Why, what does Sybil know of sickness?" "O, my dear sir," said Doctor Pestle," she is the best nurse in the world; and half a Sir Walter Scott, sir, physician besides. must have had a counterpart of Sybil Meadows in his mind's eye when he wrote the celebrated lines on woman

upon

"But when affliction wrings the brow,
A ministering angel thou."

And so it proved. Mrs. Jillipip, who took herself all the management, was fussy and troublesome; but the thoughtful gentleness of Sybil, her constant attention, and cheerful spirits, materially assisted towards Jasper's recovery. And Jasper found a new charm in life. Feelings which had seemingly perished, were reviving.

But Jasper was about to be married to Lucinda Wickford. It was only a brother's love that he could give to Sybil Meadows.

At length, the trombone was heard, and soon afterwards, Thornhill Manor house rung with the sounds of half-a-dozen such voices as had never before been heard beneath its ancient roof tree. There was Alfred Shorter blowing at his trombone, in the vain endeavour to bring out the second part of "God save the Queen"-there was Rory O'Flaherty, who, after the introduction was over, and Jasper had given him due welcome, sang a profusion of sentimental songs in a continually rising tone, with the hope of being heard above the trombone. Mr. Foxglove, a dark little gentleman with a large head and coarse expression of face, amused himself by tying the tails of three cats together, and hearing their distressed cries. Leonard Egbertson, a young lieutenant, professed to keep time to Shorter's music with the poker and shovel; two cousins, Lovelace and Larkspur, who highly approved their host's claret, confined themselves to a course of justice upon the wine, and a running ac

companiment, in deep voices, to Rory O'Flaherty's songs. Another companion,

Mr. Chislehurst, a tall, severe-looking person, with large eyes and a nose to match, stalked heavily about the room with his hands behind him, occasionally pausing to ask, " Are we not to have cards to-night?"

"We havn't seen the beauty yet!" exclaimed Alf. Shorter. "We must see the beauty, Jasper. Ring her up."

"Not to-night," said Jasper Thornhill, deprecatingly: "she will be too much alarmed." "O, bother!" cried all the rest, with one accord, "We must have her up."

exclaimed

"Ring up Blowsabella !" O'Flaherty and all hands moved towards the bell.

:

A rustle of silk was heard upon the stairs. The companions rose to their feet and rushed to the door. To their amazement, however, there stood Mrs. Jillipip.

Only Mrs. Jillipip, with a pleasant smile, and a low curtsey.

"O" was the ejaculation, in chorus, of all the party, their faces falling as they contemplated the cosy, but silly-looking countenance of the housekeeper.

"This will never do," exclaimed Alfred Shorter, turning away, discontented.

Why not?" asked O'Flaherty. "By all means give the lady a chair," and with a fine air of gallantry he handed Mrs. Jillipip a seat. With a bland smile and a very low curtsey, Mrs. Jillipip sat down, still smiling upon all around.

"A glass of wine, my dear!" said O'Flaherty, presenting her with a magnum of claret, with as much ceremony as if she had been a princess, of peerless beauty.

Mrs. Jillipip rose again, and, taking the glass of wine in her hand, drank to the health of all around, and then, dropping another low curtsey. sat down again, very much satisfied with herself and the company.

Jasper humoured the mistake into which his companions had fallen, for it ensured Sybil from insult for that night, at least; 80 Mrs. Jillipip was complimented and toasted on all sides; songs were sung, in which she joined; and when Alf. Shorter played "Sweet Home" on the trombone, she applauded with the rest; and they were all very merry; very merry indeed.

It was not until the next day that the roisterers discovered it was only the housekeeper they had been amusing themselves with, and not Sybil Meadows.

(To be continued in our next)

A Pretty Sentiment.-The Ladies! May their virtues exceed the magnificence of their beautiful dresses, while their faults are smaller than their pretty little bonnets.

HOUSEHOLD JOYS,

O, There's a joy when day has fled,
At home, where all is dear,
Where sisters, like to angel guests,
Before our eyes appear;
Their voices sweet as silver bells,
Rung in a heavenly sphere.
And when the fire plays on the wall,
And days close wet and cold,

I seem to live in some great realm
Of brightness and of gold;
Young Alice in her mother's arms,
Like lamb within its fold.

And O! our sister's brighten'd eyes,
Flash beauty on my face,
Like stars that sparkle o'er a cloud

In night's wide azure space;
Their smiles as sweet as sunny waves,
That run a crowded race.

Why should impetuous wanderers roam, When peace and love abide at home?

The Theatres.

Mr. Balfe's Opera of the Bohemian Girl which some years ago obtained considerable popularity, has been produced by the Italian company at Her Majesty's theatre, under the title of La Zingara. Madlle. Piccolomini and Signor Giuglini were heard to advantage in the principal characters, which, indeed, had never before such excellent representatives. They were well supported by Beletti and Vialetti; and a new divertisement which has been introduced, went off very well. Piccolomini has also been much admired in the Sonnambula.

At Drury Lane, a new piece, entitled A Lucky Hit, is a light trifle, apparently of French origin, and is played with much liveliness and good effect.

Lovers' Amazements is the title of a new comedietta at the Lyceum, written by Mr. Leigh Hunt. It is remarkable rather for the elegance of its language than for plot or incident. Another new piece called A HardStruggle, exhibits the emotions of a young lover, who gives up to a favoured rival the hand of a lady whom he deeply loved. We do not know whether such a struggle as this ever resulted in such meritorious self-denial, but, assuming the probability of the story, it is very well represented. Mr. and Mrs. Dillon sustain the leading characters in this piece.