OLIVE HATHAWAY.

ONE of the principal charms of this secluded village consists in the infinite variety of woody lanes, which wind along from farm to farm, and from field to field, intersecting each other with an intricacy so perplexing, and meandering with such a surprising roundabout-ness, that one often seems turning one's back directly on the spot to which one is bound. For the most part those rough and narrow ways, devoted merely to agricultural purposes, are altogether unpeopled, although here and there a lone barn forms a characteristie termination to some winding lane, or a solitary habitation adds a fresh interest to the picture.

These lanes, with their rich hedge-rows, their slips of flowery greensward, and their profound feeling of security and retirement, have long been amongst my favourite walks; and Farley-lane is perhaps the prettiest and pleasantest of all, the shadiest in warm weather, and the most sheltered in cold, and apyears doubly delightful by the transition from the exposed and open common from which it leads.

It is a deep narrow unfrequented road, by the side of a steep hill, winding between small enclosures of pasture land on one side, and the grounds of the Great House, with their picturesque paling and rich plantations, on the other; the depth and undulations of the wild cart-track giving a singularly romantic and secluded air to the whole scene, whilst occasionally the ivied pollards and shining holly-bushes of the hedge-row, mingle with the laurels, and cedars, and fine old firs of the park, forming, even in mid-winter, a green arch over-head, and contrasting vividly with a little sparkling spring, which runs gurgling along by the side of the pathway. Towards the centre of the lane rises an irregular thatched cottage, with a spacious territory of garden and orchard, to which you ascend, first by a single plank thrown across the tiny rivulet, and then by two or three steps cut in the bank an earthen staircase. This has been, as long as I can remember, the habitaon of Rachel Strong, a laundress of the highest reputation in the hamlet, and of her young niece, Olive Hathaway. It is just ssible that my liking for the latter of these rsonages may have somewhat biassed my opinion of the beauty of Farley-lane.

Olive Hathaway has always appeared to me a very interesting creature. Lame from her earliest childhood, and worse than an orpan, her mother being dead, and her father, from mental infirmity, incapable of supplying ber place, she seemed prematurely devoted care and suffering. Always gentle and placid, no one ever remembered to have seen Olive gay. Even that merriest of all hours,

the noon-day play-time at school, passed gravely and sadly with the little lame girl. A book, if she could borrow one, if not, knitting or working for her good aunt Rachel, was her only pastime. She had no troop of play-fellows, no chosen companion,-joined in none of the innocent cabal or mischievous mirth of her comrades; and yet every one liked Olive, even although cited by her mistress as a pattern of sempstresship and good conducteven although held up as that odious thing, a model,-no one could help loving poor Olive, so entirely did her sweetness and humility disarm envy and mollify scorn.

On leaving school she brought home the same good qualities, and found them attended by the same results. To Rachel Strong her assistance soon became invaluable. There was not such an ironer in the country. One could swear to the touch of her skilful fingers, whether in disentangling the delicate complexity of a point-lace cap, or in bringing out the bolder beauties of a cut-work collar; one could swear to her handywork, just as safely as a bank clerk may do to the calligraphy of a monied man on 'Change, or an amateur in art to the handling of a great master. There was no mistaking her touch. Things ironed by her looked as good as new, some said better; and her aunt's trade throve apace.

But Olive had a trade of her own. Besides her accomplishments as a laundress, she was an incomparable needle-woman; could construct a shirt between sunrise and sunset; had a genuine genius for mantua-making; a real taste for millinery; and was employed in half the houses round as a sempstress, at the rate of eight-pence a day,—devoting by far the greater part of her small earnings to the comforts of her father, a settled inhabitant of the village workhouse. A harmless and a willing creature was poor William Hathaway; ay, and a useful one in his little way. For my part, I cannot think what they would have done without him at the workhouse, where he filled the several departments of man and maid of all-work, digging the garden, dressing the dinner, running on errands, and making the beds. Still less can I imagine how the boys could have dispensed with him; the ten-year-old urchins, with whom he played at cricket every evening, and where the kind and simple old man, with his tall, lean person, his pale, withered face, and grizzled beard, was the fag and favourite of the party, the noisiest and merriest of the crew. A useful and a happy man was poor William Hathaway, albeit the proud and the worldly-wise held him in scorn; happiest of all on the Sunday afternoons, when he came to dine with his daughter and her good aunt Rachel, and receive the pious dole, the hoarded halfpence or the "splendid shilling," which it was her delight to accumulate for his little pleasures, and which he, child-like in all his

urchin from taking a bird's nest; and is cheated and laughed at for her tender-heartedness, as is the way of the world in such cases. Yes, Olive will certainly be an old maid, and a happy one,-content and humble, and cheerful and beloved! What can woman desire more?

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

THE wedding of Jacob Frost and Hester Hewit took place on a Monday morning; and, on the next day (Tuesday), as I was walking along the common-blown along, would be the properer phrase, for it was a wind that impelled one onward like a steam-enginewhat should I see but the well-known fish-cart sailing in the teeth of that raging gale, and Jacob and his old companions, the grey mare and the black sheep-dog, breasting, as well as they might, the fury of the tempest. As we neared, I caught occasional sounds of "herrings- oysters!-oysters-herrings!" although the words, being as it were blown away, came scatteringly and feebly on the ear; and when we at last met, and he began in his old way to recommend, as was his wont, these oysters of a week old (note, that the rogue was journeying coast-wise, outward bound), with a profusion of praises and asseverations which he never vented on them when fresh, and when I also perceived that Jacob had donned his old garments, and that his company had doffed their bridal favours, it became clear that our man of oysters did not intend to retire yet awhile to the landlordship of the Bell; and it was soon equally certain that the fair bride, thus deserted in the very outset of the honey-moon, intended to maintain a full and undisputed dominion over her own territories she herself, and her whole establishDet-the lame ostler, who still called her Mistress Hester-the red-haired charity-girl, wad the tabby cat, still remaining in full activny; whilst the very inscription of her maiden days, Hester Hewit's home-brewed," still continued to figure above the door of that respectable hostelry. Two days after the wedding, that happy event seemed to be most comfortably forgotten by all the parties concerned -the only persons who took any note of the Fair being precisely those who had nothing to do with the matter; that is to say, all the gossips of the neighbourhood, male and female -who did, it must be confessed, lift up their hands, and shake their heads, and bless themwires, and wonder what this world would

ing, the whole cortége, bride and bride-groom, lame ostler, red-haired lass, grey mare, and black sheep-dog, adorned exactly as on the preceding Monday, made their appearance at church; Jacob looking, as aforetime, very knowing-Hester, as usual, very demure. After the service there was a grand assemblage of Master Frost's acquaintances; for, between his customer and his playmates, Jacob was on intimate terms with half the parish-and many jokes were prepared on his smuggled marriage and subsequent desertion; but he of the brown jerkin evaded them all, by handing his fair lady into the cart, lifting the poor parish girl beside her, and even lending a friendly hoist to the lame ostler; after which he drove off, with a knowing nod, in total silence; being thereunto prompted partly by his wife's entreaties, partly by a sound more powerful over his associations-an impatient neigh from the old grey mare, who never having attended church before, had begun to weary of the length of the service, and to wonder on what new course of duty she and her master were entering.

By this dispatch, our new-married couple certainly contrived to evade the main broadside of jokes prepared for their reception; but a few random jests, flung after them at a venture, hit notwithstanding; and one amongst them, containing an insinuation that Jacob had stolen a match to avoid keeping the wedding, touched our bridegroom, a man of mettle in his way, on the very point of honour-the more especially as it proceeded from a bluff old bachelor of his own standing-honest George Bridgwater, of the Lea-at whose hospitable gate he had discussed many a jug of ale and knoll of bacon, whilst hearing and telling the news of the country side. George Bridgwater to suspect him of stinginess!the thought was insupportable. Before he reached the Bell he had formed, and communicated to Hester, the spirited resolution of giving a splendid party in the Christmas week -a sort of wedding-feast or house-warming; consisting of smoking and cards for the old, dancing and singing for the young, and eating and drinking for all ages; and, in spite of Hester's decided disapprobation, invitations were given and preparations entered on forthwith.

come to.

at once on her hoards and her habits, and forcing her into a gaiety and an outlay, which made the poor bride start back aghast.

The full extent of Hester's misfortune in this ball, did not, however, come upon her at once. She had been accustomed to the speculating hospitality of the Christmas parties at the Rose, whose host was wont at tide-times to give a supper to his customers hat is to say, to furnish the eatables thereof-the leg of mutton and turnips, the fat goose and the applesauce, and the huge plum-puddings-of which light viands that meal usually consisted, on an understanding that the aforesaid customers were to pay for the drinkables therewith consumed; and, from the length of the sittings, as well as the reports current on such occasions, Hester was pretty well assured that the expenditure had been most judicious, and that the leg of mutton and trimmings had been paid for over and over. She herself being, as she expressed it, "a lone woman, and apt to be put upon," had never gone farther in these matters than a cup of hyson and muffins, and a glass of hot elder-wine, to some of her cronies in the neighbourhood; but, having considerable confidence both in the extent of Jacob's connexions and their tippling propensities, as well as in that faculty of getting tipsy and making tipsy in Jacob himself, which she regarded" with one auspicious and one dropping eye," as good and bad for her trade, she had at first no very great objection to try for once the experiment of a Christmas party; nor was she so much startled at the idea of a dance-dancing, as she observed, being a mighty provoker of thirst; neither did she very greatly object to her husband's engaging old Timothy, the fiddler, to officiate for the evening, on condition of giving him as much ale as he chose to drink, although she perfectly well knew what that promise implied; Timothy's example being valuable on such an occasion. But when the dreadful truth stared her in the face, that this entertainment was to be a bona fide treat-that not only the leg of mutton, the fat goose, and the plum-puddings, but the ale, wine, spirits and tobacco, were to come out of her coffers, then party, dancing, and fiddler became nuisances past endurance, the latter above all.

Old Timothy was a person of some note in our parish, known to every man, woman, and child in the place, of which, indeed, he was a native. He had been a soldier in his youth, and having had the good luck to receive a sabre wound on his skull, had been discharged from the service as infirm of mind, and passed to his parish accordingly; where he had led a wandering pleasant sort of life, sometimes in one public-house, sometimes in another-tolerated, as Hester said, for his bad example, until he ran up a score that became intolerable, at which times he was turned out, with the workhouse to go to, for a pis aller, and a com

fortable prospect that his good-humour, his good-fellowship and his fiddle, would in process of time be missed and wanted, and that he might return to his old haunts and run up a fresh score. When half tipsy, which hap pened nearly every day in the week, and aät all hours, he would ramble up and down the village, playing snatches of tunes at every corner, and collecting about him a never-failing audience of eight and ten-year-old urchins of either sex, amongst which small mob old Timothy, with his jokes, his songs, and his antics, was incredibly popular. Against justice and constable, treadmill and stocks, the! sabre-cut was a protection, although, I must candidly confess, that I do not think the crack in the crown ever made itself visible in his. demeanour until a sufficient quantity of ale had gone down his throat, to account for any aberration of conduct, supposing the broadsword in question never to have approached his skull. That weapon served, however, as a most useful shield to our modern Timotheus, who, when detected in any outrageous fit of drunkenness, would immediately summon sufficient recollection to sigh and look pitiful,, and put his poor, shaking, withered hand to the seam which the wound had left, with an air of appeal, which even I, with all my skepticism, felt to be irresistible.

In short, old Timothy was a privileged per son; and, terrible sot though he were, he almost deserved to be so, for his good-humour, his contentedness, his constant festivity of temper, and his good-will towards every living thing-a good-will which met with its usual reward in being heartily and universally returned. Every body liked old Timothy, with the solitary exception of the hostess of the Bell, who, having once had him as an inmate during three weeks, had been so scandalized by his disorderly habits, that, after having with some difficulty turned him out of her house, she had never admitted him into it again, having actually resorted to the expedient of buying off her intended customer, even when he presented himself pence in hand, by the gift of a pint of home-brewed at the door, Ta ther than suffer him to effect a lodgment in her tap-room-a mode of dismissal so much to Timothy's taste, that his incursions had become more and more frequent, insomuch that "to get rid of the fiddler and other scapegraces, who were apt to put upon a lone wɔ man," formed a main article in the catalogue of reasons assigned by Hester to herself and the world, for her marriage with Jacob Frost.

- Accordingly, the moment she heard that Timothy's irregularities and ill example were likely to prove altogether unprofitable, she re vived her old objection to the poor fiddler's morals, rescinded her consent to his admis sion, and insisted so vehemently on his being unordered, that her astonished husband, fairly out-talked and out-scolded, was fain to pur