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NARRATIVE OF AN EXPEDITION TO THE plateau of the Cordilleras. On one side, towards the SUMMIT OF POPOCAPETETH, A VOLCANO | north-west, the forests of fir-trees which wholly enwrap OF PERU, IN 1834.

THE Valley of Mexico, one of the most picturesque sites in the worid, is bounded on the east-south-east by a chain of mountains, from which rise two volcanoes, known under the Indian names of Iztaccihuatl and Popocatepeth. The tops of them, eternally covered with snow, are from sixteen to eighteen thousand feet above the level of the sea. The first, the nearest to Mexico, presents a crest irregularly indented, which extends from the north-west to the south-east. The second is a complete cone. It is somewhat like Etna, but its base rests not, like that of the latter, on a level plain. The Popocatepeth is situated on the edge of the great

it terminate at the foot of the valley, and the last trees mingle with the fields of corn, maize, and other European plants growing at that height; but towards the south-east the forests continue longer. They change in kind at every step, and soon wholly disappear, to give place to the sugar-cane, the cactus, and all the rich and peculiar vegetation of the tropics. A traveller, setting out from the volcanic sands, a little above the limits of vegetation, and descending in a direct line into the valley of Cuantla-Anulpas, would, in a few hours, pass through every climate, and might gather every plant growing between the equator and the poles.

From this situation it necessarily results that he

snows which are found on the south-east, must, in the given circumstances, be influenced by the exhalations of hot air which are continually arising from the valley of Cuantla, and so it is in effect. These snows melt partially in the dry season, and whilst the north of the volcanic cone is constantly covered with snow and ice, even to the very last fir, the lava and porphyry of the south are almost laid bare, even to the very top of the volcano.

It is, then, on this side that a passage must be sought in any attempt to reach the summit of this mountain, the most elevated of the northern continent of America, and this was the course pursued by Baron Gros, secretary to the French Legation at Mexico, who, in the year 1834, had the courage to undertake this perilous enterprise, accompanied in his bold project by M. de Gerolt, Consul-General of Prussia, and Mr. Egerton, an English painter. We will give the account in the Baron's own words

with the perfect regularity of a ripple on the waters. Blocks of red porphyry are scattered up and down, and break the monotony of the spectacle. The top of the undulations formed by the sand is covered over by an immense quantity of little yellowish pumice-stones, which the winds appear to have gathered there in heaps; and along these sands run in furrows, till they are lost in the forest, some scoriæ of volcanic rocks descending from the masses of porphyry and black lava, which form the top of the mountain. The most elevated part of the volcano is entirely covered with snow, and this snow seems the more purely white, that the horizon along which it lies is of a blue so deep as almost to be black. Some traces of wolves and jaguars are visible upon the sands skirting the wood.

"After having admired for some time this singular spectacle we re-entered the forest, and I had the tent erected. We had suffered much from cold during the night.

"I had made a similar attempt last year, but with "On the 29th, at three o'clock in the morning, favery different results. My first attempt had been un- voured by a bright moonlight, we were on our way, successful, but this year many circumstances concurred warmly clothed, our face and eyes protected by green to favour us. We were provided with barometers, with spectacles, and gauze of the same colour wrapped a compass, with some thermometers, with a good tele- about our heads; my flag served me for a girdle. scope and hygrometer. I had had a tent constructed, We were seven in number. Each of us carried a small under covert of which we might brave the storm. We bag, containing some bread and a bottle of sugared had axes, saws, ropes, and poles with iron spikes, indis- water. The Indians were loaded with our instruments pensable in an expedition of this kind; mine was fifteen and some provisions. We walked after one another, feet in length; I determined that it should remain our iron-spiked sticks in our hands, and taking care behind us on the top of the volcano, as the staff of a flag to follow exactly the foot-tracks of the first guide, in of triumph; but I said nothing of this to my travelling order to be sure of firm footing. We proceeded very companions. We might fail in our enterprise, and I slowly, and were under the necessity of stopping at did not like to sell the bear-skin before I had killed every fifteen paces to take breath. The bottle of the bear.' sugared-water was of the greatest possible use to me; obliged to keep my mouth wide open in order to breathe, my throat used to clog to a degree that was quite painful, and some sups of water taken every five minutes alone prevented the pain from being insupportable. We were obliged to take a side-path, and to wind along it. The acclivity was so steep that it would have been alike difficult and dangerous to attempt to ascend in a direct line.

"We set out, and arrived at Ozumbas at three o'clock in the evening. We sent to summon the same persons who had served us as guides the last year. They were Indians of the village of Atlanta, which is situated at the very foot of Popocatepeth. We laid in provisions for four days, and the next morning at seven o'clock we commenced climbing the mountain with our mules and our horses. At one o'clock we had reached the Vaqueria, or Rancho of Gacapepelo, quite like a Swiss chalet, serving for shelter to a numerous herd of cows, and the last inhabited spot on the mountain. At three we had arrived at the limits of vegetation, which we reached by almost beaten tracts, having had occasion to use our axes in one place only. To any one acquainted with the Alps, I need not say one word of these stupendous forests of oaks, of fir, and of larch, which must be traversed; they are alike in both hemispheres, save that at the foot of this mountain are to be found numerous flocks of guacamaias, large green parrots with red heads, which are to be met with neither at Chamouni, nor at Salleneches. There are also in the forests a small spe-. cies of lion, jaguars, wolves, stags, roes, and a great quantity of wild cats, but we did not see a single one of all these animals.

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'In proportion as we ascended into the wood, the firs became less frequent, and of smaller size. Near the sands they are all more or less stunted; and all their branches bend down to earth as if they sought lower down air less rarefied. After these last firs, of which the greater part are half decayed, are only to be found some bushes of a kind of gooseberry-tree, with a black fruit; then, at intervals, tufts of yellowish moss growing in semi-circles, amidst the fragments of pumice-stone, lava, and basalt; at length all vegetation wholly ceases. Then we began to feel that we were no longer in a region in which it was possible to live. Our respiration was impeded; a kind of depression not without charms seized upon us; in truth I can scarcely define the impression we experienced as we entered these deserts.

"From the moment the wood is left behind, nothing is to be seen up to the third part of the volcanic cone, but an immense extent of violet-coloured sand, so fine in some places that the wind ruffles the surface of it

At nine o'clock we had reached the celebrated Pico del Isaib; beyond which we were not able to get the last year. This Peak is a mass of trachyte reddish rocks, which are found on one of the concretes which come down from the summit. Its perpendicular height is eighty or one hundred feet by a diameter of fifty. It terminates in a point, and can be distinctly seen from Mexico. Our guides had with difficulty been prevailed upon to come so far, but nothing could induce them to continue their journey. The way to the Peak had been long and toilsome, but not at all dangerous. The oppression I felt was less great than I had anticipated, and my pulse was only up to 120. We had courage and determined purpose; time enough before us, and above our heads a sky transparent in its clearness.

"It formed part of our plan to stop at the Pico del Isaib, and then to repair our exhausted strength by taking a slight breakfast. I knew that at such an elevation we must be careful to eat very sparingly, and not to drink any spirituous liquor; for the nervous system is excited to a degree scarcely conceivable. We therefore took only a little bread, part of the breast of a chicken, and some water just tinged with red wine; and after an hour's rest at the foot of Pico, we once more set out on our ascent.

"After having passed the Isaib, we came on the left to a mass of rocks, exfoliating like slate. They rise perpendicularly to a hundred and fifty feet in height. The summit is covered with snow, and long stalactites of ice fill every fissure. There was no advancing on that side. On the right is a rather deep ravine, which at a distance we had taken for the remains of a crater. It extends in a direct line from the top of the volcano to the first firs, and is intersected by

basalt, lava and porphyry; and, in some parts, crossed through its whole breadth by walls of perpendicular rocks, and great heaps of snow but we saw at a glance that we might, by taking a little circuit, ascend by it to the summit of the volcano. We got down, therefore, into the ravine, and, while keeping one another in view, took each a different path. M. de Gerolt took the middle, I took the left, the nearest to the wall of rocks; and Mr. Egerton went between us both. I thought at first that my path was the best, but I soon discovered my mistake; twenty times I was near breaking my neck, and, were I ever to undertake the same expedition, I would take the bottom of the ravine.

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When we could get upon the snow we proceeded with much more ease. It was now furrowed by the wind, and still more by the heat of the sun, precisely resembling a field newly ploughed. And as the furrows were parallel with the horizon, they served us as so many steps. In the sand and upon the rocks there was real danger; and the least heedlessness or awkwardness might have been fatal.

"At noon, we had wound round, and attained the summit of those perpendicular rocks before mentioned; but our strength was beginning to fail, and at every ten paces we were obliged to make a long stop to breathe, and to recover the effects of the too-quickened circulation of the blood. Though in the midst of snows, we experienced the sensation of cold only when we were drinking, or when we touched the metal of our instruments. It was necessary to cry very loud in order to be heard at a distance of twenty paces. Indeed the air at that height was so rarefied, that I tried in vain to whistle, and Mr Egerton had the greatest difficulty in extracting any sounds from a horn he had brought with him. "At half past two M. de Gerolt was on the highest point of the volcano. He began to jump with joy, and made a sign to me, that there was a gulf at his feet. At thirty-seven minutes past two I had reached the summit, and found myself on the most elevated brink of the crater. Once there, all fatigue vanished; the breathing was again free; new life seemed to be imparted by the absorbing spectacle before me; I felt an enthusiasm, an excitement, scarcely to be coneeived; and I jumped in my turn, to encourage Mr. Egerton, who had still to make his way over some bad passes. The crater is an immense gulf, almost circular, having a deep depression on the north side, and some spiracles on the south. It might be about a league in circumference, and nine hundred or a thousand feet in perpendicular depth. The walls of the gulf were peaked. They distinctly present three large horizontal strata, intersected perpendicularly and almost at equal distances by black and greyish lines. The bottom is a funnel formed by successive convulsions, still occurring almost daily. The inside edge, from the surface to about fifteen or twenty feet lower, is a mass of red, black, or whitish very thin strata, upon which rest the blocks of volcanic rocks yet destined to fall into the crater. Its walls are yellowish, and present at the first glance the appearance of a lime-stone quarry. The bottom, and the inclined plane of the funnel are covered with an immense quantity of blocks of sulphur perfectly pure. From this abyss are emitted, whirling round with the force of a whirlwind, masses of white exhalations, which disperse when they attain half the height of the inside of the crater. Some apertures in the declivity of the funnel project these also, as do likewise seven large fissures which are between the strata forming the edge of the crater; but these last vapours do not rise higher than fifteen or twenty feet.

moded by it at the top of the volcano. We were not able to get at a piece of the whitish substance adhering to the side walls of the volcano. M. de Gerolt, who tried to bring away a specimen, had nearly paid dear for his imprudence. He had gone down to a little inclined plane, which was in one of the fissures of the crater; but the sand giving way under his feet, he was sliding rapidly into the abyss, when he happily succeeded in arresting his progress by his stick.

"The outward edge of the crater is entirely devoid of snow, but in the inside, where the sun has no power, a considerable number of stalactites of ice are found summit of the volcano is a small platform of fifteen or hanging down to where the third stratum begins. The twenty feet in diameter, where the same violet-coloured sand is found, which is in such abundance at the base of the cone, and the heat of which is sensible to the touch. It may well be conceived how imposing such a spectacle must have been. Those masses of lava, of porphyry, and of red and black scoriæ; those vortices of exhalations; those stalactites, the sulphur, the snow, in short, all that singular admixture of frost and fire, found at an elevation of eighteen thousand feet, had wonderfully excited headache, and great fulness of blood about the temples; We were nearly worn out; I experienced a violent my pulse was up to 145, though, after a little rest, I did not feel much more oppressed than at the Pico del Isaib. We were all dreadfully pale, our lips were lividly blue, and our eyes sunk in their sockets, so that when thrown over our heads, or when we were lying stretched we were resting ourselves on the rocks, with our arms upon the sand, with closed eyes and mouth wide open, and without our masks, in order that we might breathe more freely, we resembled corpses, and, though I was aware of the real state of the case, I did not the less experience a disagreeable feeling, when my eye happened to fall upon any of my travelling companions.

us.

"It is related in every history of the conquest of Mexico, that Don Diego Ordaz, one of the captains of Fernando Cortes, went to the volcano to procure sulphur for making powder. Perhaps there might have been then, on the declivity of the mountain, some fissures where it was deposited, as is still the case in Italy. I do not believe it possible to reach that which is to be found in the crater, and it is probable that in the time of Cortes, the volcano was in greater activity than it the funnel is there in millions of quintals; the atmonow is. The pure sulphur deposited at the bottom of sphere is infested with its exhalations, and I have no doubt that it would be impossible to let one-self down two hundred feet into the gulf, without being asphyxiated by the sulphureous vapours. Now, as this depth would be but one fourth of the distance necessary to be passed through, in order to arrive at the yellow masses carpeting the bottom, supposing even that free respiration was possible, still to reach even the inclined plane nearest to the top, ropes of an immense length would be required, and how are they to be conveyed to the summit of the volcano, which it is so difficult to arrive at without any incumbrance, and where the slightest weight becomes an insupportable burden? I think, therefore, that if Diego Ordaz had collected sulphur on Popocatepeth, it could only have been a little above the volcanic sands, and not in the crater.

"At half-past three we had completed our survey, and planted my standard on the most elevated point of the volcano; at four o'clock we had reached, on our way down, the great ravine of the Pico del Isaib, where we found our guides awaiting us. We made signs to them to go to the tent, and we continued to descend by a "The apertures at bottom are circular, and surrounded different route from that which we had taken in our by a large zone of pure sulphur. Doubtless these ex- ascent. At six o'clock, we were in our tent, but too halations, which are disengaged with such force, carry much fatigued, and, still more, too much excited to with them a great quantity of sublimate of sulphur, a sleep soundly. While awake, I could speak, I could part of which is deposited on the stones and on the sides think only of the crater, and, when I happened to fall of the abyss. The disengagement of the sulphureous asleep, I fancied myself still there, the oppression was acid gas is so considerable, that we were greatly incom-again felt, and starting I awoke.

"The next day, the 30th of April, at 7 o'clock, we struck our tent, and at two o'clock P.M. we were at Ozumba. I placed, in the yard of the house in which we lodged, a good telescope fixed in the direction of the volcano, and for two days the yard was filled with curious spectators, who came to gaze upon our flag as it floated on high."

Baron Gros was not the only one who ascended to the summit of this volcano, though many attempts have failed from different causes. Some travellers, when arrived at a certain height, have been seized with a violent throwing up of blood, which has obliged them to desist from the enterprise. In 1825 and 1830, some Englishmen reached the crater. Mr. William Glenny is mentioned as the first who surmounted every obstacle.

How wonderfully do these phenomena exhibit the power of God and, were it not for our dim-sightedness, we might also doubtless discover in them the goodness as well as the wisdom of the beneficent and almighty hand, which has so bountifully provided for the well-being of his creatures, and is not less mindful of his gracious purpose that all things should work together for good, even when the volcano is spreading terror and devastation around. But even now enough is known to lead us to conclude that, however fearful these eruptions are, the mischief occasioned is nothing in comparison to the advantage they are of, on the whole, to our globe. The bosom of the earth being full of fire, a vent is absolutely necessary by which the force of the dreadful element is broken and weakened. And though the countries where the subterraneous fires collect in greatest quantities, are subject to earthquakes, these would be still more violent if these volcanoes did not exist. But, even if all these phenomena were obscure and unintelligible to us, surely it becomes beings such as we are, who acknowledge ourselves to be the creatures of Infinite Wisdom and Infinite Love, to deal with those pages which we cannot decipher of that book of nature, on which, in so many countless places, are marked, in characters so plain that "he that runs may read," the rich goodness of its Author, in the spirit of him of old, who returned a volume which he had borrowed from a friend, saying"There are many things in it I do not understand, but those which I do understand, are so excellent, that I am sure, to know all, would only give me fresh cause for believing the author worthy of still deeper veneration."

THE MAIDEN AUNT. DUNCOMBE PARK.

CHAP. II.

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JANET proceeded with her story,- The last letter from Anna's friend arrived about five weeks ago, and gave a most melancholy account of them. They had been then several months without any pupils at all, and the lady said she believed they would come to England to seek employment, if it were not that they had been compelled to run in debt at Boulogne, and, not being able to pay their debts, of course they could not leave the place. Papa gave this letter back to Anna, as he had done all the others, without saying a word. But two days afterwards nurse told me that among the letters sent to the post that morning, had been one directed in papa's hand-writing to Mrs. Charles Harwood, to the care of Madame Viéville, Grande Rue, Boulogne. I was surprised that he wrote to Adêle and not to Charles; how ever I felt very happy, and thought it was all going to turn out well at last. I thought so still more, when, a fortnight afterwards, as we rose to leave the diningroom, papa told us, in his shortest manner, that Mrs. Charles Harwood and her children were coming to spend the Christmas with us. I could have jumped for joy, and in my ecstasy I could not help saying, Oh

(1) Continued from page 149.

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papa,-and Charles? He knit his brow and said, 'Understand, both of you, that this is a subject on which I do not choose to be spoken to. You are to hear what I say, and make no answer.' Of course I dared not reply, but still I felt quite confident and very happy, till last Thursday, when nurse gave me a packet from Charles containing that note for you. There was also a letter for me, in which he told me that papa had written very shortly to Adêle, saying that he wished herself and her two children to spend the Christmas with him. Poor Charles was in ecstasies-he thought this was certainly the first step to a reconciliation-he made Adêle answer the cold brief invitation in the most grateful terms, and he himself wrote a long letter full of thanks, expressions of affection and repentance, and entreaties for forgiveness. This letter was immediately returned unopened. It was enclosed to Adêle, and in the cover were written these few lines:

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'Madam,-I shall be happy to receive yourself and your children as soon after the 17th of December as you can make it convenient to come to me. I return you unread a letter which never should have been written, and which never could have been sent, had you not made the great mistake of supposing that I could not distinguish between the misled and the misleader-between mere weakness and positive sin. You have never yet had any duty towards me to fulfil, and therefore you have transgressed none.-I remain. Madam, your sincere well-wisher, EVERARD HARWOOD.'

"Oh, what harsh harsh words!" cried poor Janet, interrupted by her own tears.

After a moment's pause she resumed her tale,-"Charles told me that, in spite of these bitter words which have made him very miserable, he cannot give up all hope; he thinks still that papa must be intending to relent, and therefore he has decided that Adêle and the children shall certainly come. He desires me to tell you the whole history before you read his letter to you, and-but now, dear aunt Margaret, please read the

letter."

I opened the paper, as she desired, and read as follows:

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My dear kind aunt Peggy,-"

Poor Charles!" said I, involuntarily stopping to wipe my eyes. I began again,

My dear kind aunt Peggy,--For well do I remember your kindness to me when I was a boy, and I should indeed be most ungrateful if I could forget the thousand and one treats and presents with which you used to brighten my school-days. It is the recollection of all this which makes me hope to find a friend in you now, and if you have not quite forgotten the affection which I know you used to bear me, (and I think it would be a hard matter for you to leave off loving any one.) you will not refuse to help me now that Janet has told you my sad story, and you know how unhappy I am."

"But how, how can I possibly help him?" asked I, interrupting myself again.

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Read on, and you will see!" cried Janet, whose face was full of joyful hope. I continued to read,

"I will not take up your time by defences or apologies for my conduct. I was to blame,-I was wrong, I don't seek to deny it, either to myself or to others. But I am severely punished, when I see the sweetest wife that ever brought happiness to a man's heart and home, and two innocent babes, actually suffering from want. Of my own personal affliction from the displeasure of a father whom I must ever revere, and the cessation of intercourse with sisters whom I love most tenderly, I will say little. Perhaps I deserved it. But has not my punishment lasted long enough? Now, my dear aunt Peggy," (the boy must know by instinct how that name wins its way to my heart,) "will you use your influence in my behalf? My father has the highest opinion of you. I have heard him say repeatedly that there is no person to whom he would so willingly confide the education of his daughters as to yourself. He has like

wise a warmer feeling towards you, remembering that you were the favourite sister of my poor mother. I cannot help imagining that he is now just in the state of mind only to require to have the matter reasonably put before him to induce him to yield. I cannot but hope that a few arguments and a little persuasion from you would win my cause. Will you refuse to make the attempt? No, I am quite sure you will not; and the idea of your consent sends a feeling of happiness through my heart, to which it has been very long a stranger. God bless you, my dear aunt Peggy, and prosper you in the effort which I am sure you will make for me. I need not commend my Adêle to your kindness, you will love her the moment you see her. And as to the piccaninnies, I know you love all babies, and I don't think you will like my little son and heir the less because he is reckoned the image of his unlucky father. Perhaps you will say I should write 'blameable' for unlucky,' and perhaps you are right-however, amid all my faults and misfortunes, I have still pleasure in signing myself, Your affectionate and grateful nephew,

CHARLES HARWOOD."

I fancy I have rather an aptness for the sort of thing, and, with the help of a little woman's wit, I do not despair of succeeding.

I am writing this account of my first day at Duncombe Park, in my bedroom, before going to rest, and I have so lost the thread of my story in meditating on the grand effort which I am to make to-morrow, that I had nearly forgotten to say how the evening passed off. There is not much to record. Anna joined us at the tea-table, and I tried to win my way through her reserve by talking to her of the German poets, with whom I supposed she was beginning to make acquaintance. But she seems more occupied with the grammatical structure of the language than with its literary stores, and she has a school-method of classing the "stars" which somewhat amused me. She puts Schiller above Uhland because he is less easy to comprehend, while Göthe stands highest of all, not by reason of his marvellous genius, but, "because he is so very difficult." The exquisite "Hermann and Dorothea," is however an exception among his works, and was contemptuously dismissed with the observation, "Oh, that is quite easy, I read that when I was only a beginner." This manner of judging was new to me as applied to literature, though I have remarked that it is common enough with reference to the fine arts; the accomplished pianist who utterly despises Mozart, and takes a cool superior tone about Beethoven, will speak with rapture of Thalberg or Doehler, and with a reverent awe of Chapin, proportioned to the difficulty of unravelling the involved mazes of his time, and decyphering the mysterious double sharps and triple flats, wherewith he is pleased to diversify the monotonous simplicity of musical notation. He is a politic man doubtless. Who cares for plain C? It is a note of no importance or dignity whatever. But call it D double flat, and immediately it is invested with a character of grandeur and originality which it might have sought to attain by any other means, in vain. The doctor who tells you to drink camomile tea three times a day, has no title to your respect,- -no claim upon your faith. He might have won both if he had but had the sense to call for a sheet of paper, and write--Decoctio

I put down the letter, and there was Janet's beaming face at my side. She clasped her arms about my neck, half-sobbing, and saying, "Oh dear aunt Margaret, you say yes, don't you? you will try for poor Charles, I'm sure you will." What could I do but kiss her, and promise to do my best? yet never did maiden aunt feel more bewildered than I did in the new position I had thus involuntarily assumed. In the first place I was a little afraid of my brother-in-law at all times; and, in the present instance, I felt by no means sure that he would not resent my interference, as quite uncalled for and impertinent. But then both Janet and Charles seemed so secure of my influence with him; and then, thought I, suppose I should succeed, suppose I should reconcile son and father, of what happiness should I be the cause, and what a delightful remembrance would it be for me, to the end of my life! Owen says, that to appeal to me about my usefulness, or my influence with others, is attacking me on my weak side. And certainly, when I leave a house, I do like to be able to say to myself that I have done some good in it. How could there be a better opportunity of doing good than this? I am getting sanguine, and my hopes out-florar: camomil : ter diem, weigh my fears.

I am the more inclined to be confident because I cannot but agree with Charles that the invitation to Adèle, cold and ungracious as it is, must be considered as a sign that the colonel intends to relent. If he has no such intention, why did he not send them a remittance, instead of that unaccountable invitation? Poor dear Charles! Who could have fancied that he remembered me so well and so kindly? He was always a favourite of mine, but I little thought that the trifling kindnesses of so many years ago would make so deep an impression. How he must have suffered! and my sweet little Janet too,-what a singular mixture of prudence and feeling has she shown for so young a girl! The prudence has been taught her by fear, which, as I have often observed, will teach a sorrowful kind of caution, very painful to witness, even to a little child. But Anna,-there is a mystery in her. She must have a cold heart, I am afraid; perhaps her affections have never been encouraged to expand, for I suspect Janet is the favourite both with brother and father. As to Colonel Harwood, the more I reflect on his character the more hopeful I feel, though I was at first so much cast down. His temper, though roused to one violent ebullition by such defiance of authority, is evidently under control, and would certainly never show itself towards me, of whom he has so high an opinion. But I must go to work very carefully, and manage to introduce the subject at the right time, and in the right manner. Everything depends upon that. Some people in my situation would go blundering straight forward to the point they wished to attain, and spoil their work by their clumsy method of doing it. But

After tea, my brother-in-law who had watched my conversation with Anna with evident satisfaction, (I kept it up the more diligently because I am of course anxious to encourage the high estimation in which I find that he holds me, and because I observed that he was pleased to see that I was likely to assist his daughters in their studies,) drew his chair forward and addressed me in his blandest and most cordial manner. "I like," said he, " to encourage and keep up all the oldfashioned customs connected with this season of the year. I am no enemy to merry-making in proper place and time, and among the other innocent amusements with which our grandfathers and grandmothers were accustomed to while away the long winter evenings, I, for one, see no objection to a good game of cards." His voice assumed a tone half inquiring, half congratulatory, as he closed this speech, and slightly rubbing his hands together he looked pointedly at me, as much as to say, Here's a tolerant, benevolent, cheerful, benignant brother-in-law and father of a family for you." The plain English of these words and looks of deferential self-approval, was, that Colonel Harwood chose, on every winter's evening, to play whist for two mortal hours, and that I was expected to supply the place of the Dumbie who ordinarily held the fourth hand in the rubber. I positively detest cards, and am generally in the habit of making all sorts of mistakes, even in the simplest games; this evening, however, in pursuance of my plan of establishing myself in my brother-in-law's good graces, and maintaining him in that good opinion of me which he has chosen to adopt, I assumed my place at the table very amiably, and gave my whole attention to the matter in hand. And as,

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