the open highway, which is a misfortune; but one, at least, might receive the shelter of every parochial or district school-house; indeed, properly followed out, twenty thousand letter-boxes might, on this simple plan, be scattered throughout the hamlets of the United Kingdom, at the merest trifle of expense, and excite probably a vast increase of correspondence as well as of revenue.

Let us now proceed on our journey. Our voiture has reached the valley of the Cher. The country, which has latterly been bare tilled land, is now more green and woody. Selles, an aged town, placed on the left bank of the river, from which it receives the name of Sellessur-Cher, is before us, and is speedily reached by crossing an old stone bridge. Having stopped for about an hour to rest the horses, during which we had an opportunity of walking along the pleasant banks of the Cher, which is here about the size of the Tweed at Coldstream, we were again on our journey towards Valençay, a place at a few miles' distance, which it was our object to see, returning thence to Selles for the night. Valençay we reached about three o'clock, on an exceedingly beautiful afternoon, and cost us upwards of an hour in the inspection. The country here is still more woody and irregular than upon the Cher; and we can fancy, from its patches of oak forest, its long avenues of trees, its old walls and mansions, that aristocracy has for ages been the presiding genius of the locality. As our carriage ascends the small eminence on which the town is situated, we feel assured that we are approaching the house of a great man, for there it stands, a fine old chateau of the renaissance period, commanding a view of the country around.

This, then, good reader, is the Chateau de Valençay, a half-castle half-palace, erected principally in the reign of that palace-building hero, François Premier, from the designs of Philabert de l'Orme. We alight, walk to the arched portal, and are admitted by the concierge to the court behind, where a projecting wing of the building of the era of Louis XIV. is now pointed out. Beneath this projecting portion of the building is an open arcade with pillars, intended as a promenade in wet weather, and from this arcade do we enter the hall, whence from suite to suite of chambers, below and above, are we conducted over the whole house. Who resides at Valençay, or what is the object in visiting it?

Valençay offers one of the best existing specimens of the ducal chateau, with its terrace-like gardens, avenues, bowers, and enclosures-but only exteriorly; for the house is altogether furnished according to the modern French taste. Inferior, however, as respects internal antiquity to another chateau which I shall afterwards describe, it is in the present day an object of interest, from having been the property and country residence of Talleyrand, and the place where he spent the latter years of his life. Here, also, as some readers will recollect, Ferdinand VII. of Spain was confined from 1808 to 1814 by Bonaparte. At the time of our visit, Valençay had no inhabitant, but everything in the establishment was complete, and precisely as Talleyrand had left it. The large salle, to which we were first admitted, is elegantly furnished, and decorated with full-length portraits of royal personages, gifts to their late owner. Among these are pictures of Napoleon, Louis Philippe, and his queen. The more private rooms on the same range possessed also some fine modern portraits of statesmen and others; but these interested us less than two other apartments, likewise on the ground-floor, which had been used as the study and bed-chamber of Talleyrand. Everything remained as if prepared to receive him. In front of a chair were his shoes, large, clumsy, and made of softish leather; one being suitable for a deformed foot, with steel supports and bandages for the leg. On a table adjoining lay three canes, with convenient handles to lean upon in walking. And in the centre of the floor was a table containing the whole apparatus for writing-pens, wax, paper, and at least a dozen seals, some of them the size

of a tea-cup. On a writing book, in the midst of this array, lay his spectacles, through which the eyes of their owner had taken their last look. In the dressing-room were two glass cases placed against the wall, and in these were displayed the magnificent laced robes, stars, and orders of the ex-minister, or, as one might almost call them, the theatrical properties which had for half a century figured in the shifting dramas of the French court.

On the floor above, we are first led through a long gallery with smooth oaken floor, and embellished on the side opposite the windows with various portraits of distinguished members of the Perigord family, some of which were of considerable antiquity, the family, during the middle ages, having possessed the dignity of sovereign counts within their domains. Besides those paintings, there are numerous prints of crowned heads and statesmen of the last fifty years. The library, which is dispersed in the gallery and in an adjoining apartment, is a vast collection of books, consisting chiefly of ancient Latin and modern French authors. Among the whole, we observed only two or three English works. How thoroughly does difference of language separate countries distant only a few miles from each other!

We were conducted to a still higher floor in the chateau, consisting, however, only of private apartments, and thence were led to a turret at one of the exterior angles of the building, from which we had a charming panoramic view of the beautiful country around, with the town of Valençay adjoining the palace grounds on the cast. It was now time to leave the place of Talleyrand's abode while living, and to pay a visit to that in which his mortal remains have been consigned to wait the final doom.

It was market-day when we pushed through the crowded streets of this neat little town. The Place was strewn with vegetable produce; countrywomen in their brightcoloured costumes were busy exposing their wares to the purchasers; and over all was seen the cocked hat of a gendarme, preserving order by his magisterial presence. By the politeness of this functionary-whose friendly advances, however, one is never altogether sure aboutway was made for us across the Place, and we found ourselves in a narrow tributary street at the further corner. Here was pointed out to us a plain mansion within a bounding wall, as the convent of the Sisters of Mercy, in the chapel connected with which Talleyrand has found a tomb. We entered the little chapel, which was situated on the right-hand side of the court in front; it was, appropriately, as silent as death; a single nun, in her black attire and white coif, alone knelt in mute and diligent devotion before the only altar. It was certainly rude to think of disturbing such orisons-what plea of curiosity could entitle any vagrant foreigner to intrude himself on a scene so tranquil and holy? Yet what will an assumed plea of necessity not dare or overcome? The nun must be faced. And, after all, there needed no great degree of courage to address her. She was a meck quiet person; one of those gentle beings in whom we could imagine all vestige of earthly passions had been extirpated. A whisper of a few words, in which the fair devotee might gather the almost anticipated sounds-étranger-tombeau de Talleyrand-raised her from her devotional posture. Without uttering a word in reply, she walked out of the chapel, but immediately returned with a bunch of keys. Where there was any door to open, I could not conjecture; for in the walls of the chapel no outlet, except by the entrance, was visible. Our doubts on this point were soon at an end. Proceeding to a part of the floor immediately in front of the altar, the youthful nun withdrew a piece of carpet, disclosing a wooden trap-door, which she lifted and removed. A heavy iron door now made its appearance, and the nun applying a key to the lock, it was ready to be lifted by a ring. As I stooped down, and raised upon its hinges this very ponderous iron trap, exposing, at the same time, a dark gulf below, the scene with Aladdin and his inhuman

prosperity depends upon a plentiful supply of pure water, it will appear in its true light as a great national achievement. In such a light was the completion of the Croton Aqueduct regarded by the citizens of New York; and, viewing it through the same medium, we proceed to lay before our readers some account of this magnificent undertaking, as gleaned from a recent American publication devoted to the subject.*

Like most modern cities which have rapidly increased in population and importance, New York, so early as the end of last century, began to feel the necessity of a plentiful supply of pure and wholesome water. As with most modern improvements, too, depending upon the consent of the many, there was a world of preliminary palaver and delay. In 1774, when the population amounted only to twenty-two thousand, the necessity began to be felt; in 1799, it was the subject of much talk, and even consultation, with engineers; and again, in 1822, after a lapse of twenty years, a committee sat upon' the subject, obtained a survey, drew up a report, and had the same approved of. Still, however, nothing was done; the inhabitants of New York conti

'Descendez, Monsieur, s'il vous plait,' said the nun; and now looking intently at the dark opening before me, I perceived it contained a flight of narrow stone steps, down which I cautiously groped my way to a depth of perhaps twelve feet, when I found myself on a stone floor, on which a gleam of light fell from a distant window. Going forward in the direction of the light, I was led into a chamber partly beneath the altar, and to all appearance partly below an open ground beyond the chapel; for the light came from a species of skylight in the arched roof overhead. The vault, when I had time to examine it, seemed to me about twenty feet square. All was cold, dry, and silent. And so, said I, as I looked around, and recognised through the gloom the few objects which the place contained, this, then, is the tomb-the domus ultima-of the renowned Abbe de Perigord the Bishop of Autun-nued to drink impregnated waters when they could Citizen Talleyrand! Within a niche in the wall oppo- obtain them; when they could not, it is humorously site the entrance is placed a large dark-coloured stone supposed they betook themselves to 'gin-sling.' In sarcophagus, containing the coffin and remains of the 1824, the yellow fever committed fearful ravages; being great man, as is indicated by an inscription on its side all the more severe, that the inhabitants had not the Ici réposent les cendres de Charles Maurice de Perigord, indispensable element of cleanliness to abate its effects. prince de Talleyrand,' &c., with the date of his death, This roused the authorities to a keener sense of the May 20, 1838. On the floor on each side of the apart-importance of water; hence 1825 and 1826 are remarkment are ranged several other sarcophagi, containing, able for the number of speeches, reports, prospectuses, as is seen from similar inscriptions, the remains of members of the Perigord family; none, however, of any an- &c., which the water-question gave birth to. Still, there tiquity; the whole place, indeed, having the air of a was no actual movement. In 1831, a new committee modern creation. talked of more decided steps,' and besought the municipal authorities no longer to satisfy themselves with speeches, reports, and surveys, but actually to raise the means and strike the spade into the ground.' These, it must be confessed, were bold words; but they brought no water. However, a more urgent monitor now appeared; and in 1832 the plague of cholera ravaged their filthy and unwatered city. This so stirred the inhabitants and authorities to a sense of their danger, that the latter now set about in absolute earnest to remedy the defect. Surveys and reports were executed anew; and after a few more last words and deliberations, the work was commenced in reality. In May 1837, the spade was struck into the ground; in July 1842, the waters of the Croton traversed the aqueduct, and in October of the same year were distributed throughout the city of New York, whose inhabitants hailed the event with unrestrained enthusiasm and joy!'

There was little time to moralise in this place of tombs, fruitful as it was in associations connected with modern history; so we left it to a reign of silence which would not, in all likelihood, be broken till the visit of some equally intrusive tourist. The iron and wooden doors were lowered, the pious nun meekly resumed her kneeling attitude, and, dropping a few coins into the tronc at the doorway - an Englishman being never able to divest himself of the idea of paying for his freak-we departed. In the evening, we again sauntered along the green banks of the Cher, in the neighbourhood of Selles, whence we proposed on the morrow to pursue our way by Chenanceaux to Amboise.

-

THE CROTON AQUEDUCT.

On the 14th of October 1842, the city of New York held holiday-and well it might; for on that day, for the first time since its foundation, did its inhabitants enjoy the blessings of a cheap, copious, and permanent supply of pure water. Hitherto, that essential requisite to existence was obtained from pumps and drawwells; now, it flowed through their streets in the form of a fresh and sparkling river, spread out into extensive lakes, gushed forth in every square and park, and disseminated itself in living rills of health and comfort to the remotest alley. The accomplishment of such a purpose was, in truth, a triumph worthy of a civilised people-a feat more glorious and enduring than the squandering of ten times the amount of capital in gunpowder and bayonets. Those who are accustomed to sneer at the utilitarianism of the age,' may regard the watering of a city as a mere ordinary incident, a fit enough topic for the newspapers and small-talk of a week, and nothing more; but to the individual who can take an enlarged view of human progression, and who knows how much of public health, comfort, and

How this result was accomplished, at what cost, and with what success, we shall now endeavour to describe. The modes of supplying modern cities with water are either by means of Artesian wells, by pipes which conduct and distribute some distant spring, or by the engine pump applied to the water of some river, if, luckily, such a source be available. The aqueduct, upon its ancient and gigantic scale, is rarely if ever resorted to, and herein consists the novelty and interest of the mode adopted by the city of New York. An aqueduct, in its primitive sense, means simply a water-leader, a familiar instance of which is afforded us in the common mill

course. The water is diverted from its natural channel

at the requisite height, and then led along in an artificial course to the point desired. Now, this artificial channel may be simply a ditch, or it may be constructed

Illustrations of the Croton Aqueduct. By F. B. Tower, of the United States Engineer Department. New York. 1843.

of solid masonry; it may be open or covered; it may of drought, fail to furnish a supply greater than would wind along the sides of hills, so as to preserve the proper be carried off from this reservoir and the reservoirs at level, or it may be carried straight forward through the city by evaporation, we have still a supply of water hills and across valleys. The ancient aqueducts of Rome which would be sufficient for one million of inhabitants were generally constructed upon the latter principle, during the space of thirty days (estimating the amount being carried through heights by tunnels, and across necessary for each inhabitant to be twenty gallons for valleys and rivers upon arches-the arched portion of every twenty-four hours). But we may assume the the structure originally giving the name of aqueduct, number of inhabitants at present to be one-third of a just as the range of bridges which carry a railway across million, and therefore we have a sufficient store of a valley are termed a viaduct. The ancient principle water in this fountain reservoir to supply them for the was that adopted by New York: the Croton river is space of ninety days, in the emergency before supposed. dammed up near its source, its pure and undefiled waters In addition to the quantity in the fountain reservoir, are conveyed in a channel of solid masonry through hills we have sufficient in the reservoirs at the city to supply by tunnels, over rivers and valleys by arches or embank-one-third of a million of inhabitants for about twentyments; and after a course of forty miles, administers five days, at the rate of supply before-mentioned. Thus to the health and comfort of four hundred thousand we find, should such a limit as we have supposed ever human beings! The reasons for adopting this species happen to the supply from the river, the season of of structure are obvious: an open canal would have been drought cannot certainly be supposed to continue durliable to receive innumerable impurities from the washing the length of time (about four months) that would of the country: a closed one not only prevents waste be required for the present population of the city to by evaporation, and preserves cleanliness, but adds to exhaust the quantity in store when all the reservoirs the strength and durability of the structure. The in- are full. The minimum flow of water in the river, equalities of the country between the source of the where the dam is constructed, has been stated to be Croton and the city of New York were such, as entirely twenty-seven millions of gallons for every twenty-four to preclude the idea of a plane or continuous water- hours. This would be a sufficient supply for one million course, and the question to be decided was-whether of inhabitants; and should the population of the city the laying of pipes, or the construction of an aqueduct increase to one million and a half, this supply, together after the plan of the ancients, would be more economical, with the quantity in store, will probably be sufficient efficient, and permanent? After due consideration, it during any season of drought. There is, therefore, no was decided in favour of the latter: and now for Mr fear in regard to the supply for the present, and should Tower's details. the time arrive when the city will require more than the present facilities afford during low stages of the river, other streams may be found which can be turned into the upper branches of the Croton, or into the aqueduct along its course. Other reservoirs may also be constructed farther up the Croton, to draw from in seasons of drought.'

Beginning with the Croton river, we are informed that its sources are principally in the county of Putnam, at a distance of fifty miles from New York. They are mostly springs which in that elevated and uneven country have formed many ponds and lakes, never-failing in their supply. There are about twenty of these lakes, which constitute the sources of the Croton river, and the aggregate of their surface areas is about three thousand eight hundred acres. From these sources to the mouth of the Croton, at the head of Tappan Bay in the Hudson, the distance is about twenty-five miles. The country bordering upon the Croton is generally elevated and uneven, not sustaining a dense population, and cleared sufficiently to prevent injury to the water from decayed vegetable matter. The river has a rapid descent, and flows over a bed of gravel and masses of broken rock. From these advantages, there is good reason to suppose that the water will receive very little impurity from the wash of the country through which it flows, and there is no doubt that the sources furnish that which is peculiarly adapted to all the purposes of a large city. The water is of such uncommon purity, that, in earlier days, the native Indian gave a name to the river which signified clear water.'

Again, as to the flow of water into the Croton, the capacity of the fountain reservoir, the discharge of the aqueduct, and the sufficiency of supply, we are presented with the following details:-The medium flow of water in the Croton, where the fountain reservoir is formed, exceeds fifty millions of gallons in twenty-four hours, and the minimum flow, after a long-continued drought, is about twenty-seven millions of gallons in twenty-four hours. The dam on the Croton river is about thirty-eight feet above the level, which was the surface of the natural flow of water at that place, and sets the water back about six miles, forming the fountain reservoir, which covers an area of about four hundred acres. The country forming the valley of the river was such as to give bold shores to this reservoir generally, and in cases where there was a gentle slope or a level of the ground near the surface of water, excavations were made, so that the water should not be of less depth than four and a half feet. The available capacity of this reservoir, down to the level where the water would cease to flow off in the aqueduct, has been estimated at six hundred millions of gallons. Could we suppose that the Croton river will ever, in any season

Such are the wonderful capabilities of what may be termed the feeders' of the Croton Aqueduct, which is calculated to discharge no less than sixty millions of gallons in twenty-four hours! Some idea of this magnificent supply may be formed from the fact, that the daily consumption of the principal London water companies (eight in number) amounts only to twenty-one millions of gallons. Of the architectural structure of the Croton Aqueduct, it would be impossible to convey any clear idea without the aid of sections and diagrams. A general sketch of the undertaking may, however, be presented. As already stated, the fountain reservoir covers about four hundred acres, and is formed by a dam thirtyeight feet in height, thus creating a source one hundred and sixty-six feet higher than the city of New York. At this dam are sluices or gates for regulating the discharge of water, and of course under the superintendence of a competent manager. The interior of the aqueduct is, throughout, of an arched or elliptical form, founded upon hydraulic concrete, built of squared stones, and finally lined with brick prepared for the purpose. In crossing flats slightly below the intended level, it is raised upon solid embankments; in crossing valleys or rivers, it is supported upon arches; and in passing through hills, these are tunneled, to admit the masonwork of the aqueduct. Roads and other thoroughfares are of course left unobstructed by the erection of bridges, just as they are in our country when a railway is laid down. As the magnificence of aqueducts depends upon the height and number of arches requisite to carry them across valleys, it may give some idea of that under consideration, when it is stated that Harlem river is crossed by fifteen arches, seven of which are of fifty feet span, and eight of eighty feet, the greatest height being one hundred and fifty feet from the foundation to the top of the mason-work. This, it is true, is the chef-d'œuvre of the aqueduct, but there are other bridges and embankments of no mean magnitude, the design and construction of which do credit to American engineering. No essential change occurs in the form of the channelway from the fountain reservoir on the Croton to the

receiving reservoir on the island of New York, a dis- chased at too dear a rate, even were the expenses attendtance of thirty-eight miles, except in crossing Harlem ing it increased to double the actual amount.' river to reach the island, and in passing a deep valley Having thus gleaned the above sketch of the Croton on the island, where iron pipes are used instead of Aqueduct from Mr Tower's Illustrations,' which form masonry, to provide for the pressure consequent upon a very handsome pictorial volume, we shall take an a depression from the regular plane. Thus the course early opportunity of presenting our readers with some of this artificial stream may be said to combine two account of the aqueducts of the ancients-adverting to principles-that of the ancient aqueduct, and a descent the defective system of watering, sewerage, and ventiand ascent as in ordinary pipes. Should it ever be lation, which prevails in most of the populous and comresolved on to remove the tubes from these depres-mercial cities of the present day. sions, and to substitute arcades to maintain the regular inclination of the channel-way, a second tier of arches will be required in crossing the Harlem river, and a bridge of great elevation to span the ravine on the island.

THE HEIRESS.

A VILLAGE TALE.
BY AGNES STRICKLAND.*

Having, by the means now described, reached the receiving reservoir at the rate of one and a half miles ONE of the prettiest spots in Woodfield was the old an hour, the surface-level of the water is still one hun-market garden. It was situated in a warm sunny angle, dred and nineteen feet above the level of mean tide. where three of our bowering lanes met, near the ruins From this it is conducted (a distance of two miles) to of St Edmund's Abbey. It was unlike any other garden the distributing reservoir, where the surface-height of the kind I ever saw; the old mulberry and pear-trees, falls to one hundred and fifteen feet, this last being the and espalier apples, whose golden fruits might have height to which the water can be made available in the tempted wiser nymphs than Atalanta, were evidently city. The receiving reservoir covers about thirty acres, relics of departed centuries. I think they must have and contains one month's supply; whilst the distribut- been planted by the dainty monks of the adjacent moing, which is entirely built of stone, is four hundred nastery, or at any rate grafted from their ancient stock, and thirty-six feet square, forty-five feet deep, and con- for, with all our horticultural improvements, we get no tains twenty millions of gallons. This last reservoir such apples now-a-days. Their very name bespake their may be considered the termination of the Croton Aque- origin. The Abbot's Pippin they were called. That duct, and is distant from the fountain reservoir forty abbot was a man of taste, I'll warrant him, from whose and a half miles. The whole cost of the work was pet seedling first sprang this spicy family. His name about 9,000,000 dollars; and adding to this the cost of is forgotten-his grave is unknown; but these pippins pipes, and arrangements for distributing the water in are a perennial monument of his good deeds, in introthe city, it will make the total cost of supplying New ducing so excellent a stock of apples among the EastYork with water 12,000,000 dollars, or about three mil- Anglian orchards. The thyme, the fennel, the red sage, lions sterling.. and many a flaunting marigold, are still to be found in the green lanes near to the mouldering line of broken arches which formed the boundary of St Edmund's Abbey, indubitable landmarks of the ancient herbarium from which the cowled physicians of the olden time concocted the simple medicines for the village poor, as well as for the petty suzerain of the manor. A hardy race were both the peasant and his lord in those days, when health might be extracted from herbs of grace and flowers of the field, and none ever received such a thing as an apothecary's bill to raise their spirits after a long illness.

*

舞

Commenting on the comforts and blessings of this supply of pure water, Mr Tower remarks, the time is not far distant when New York will regard it as a treasure which was cheaply purchased, and will proudly point to the noble work which she has achieved, not only as an example of her munificence, but as an illustration of what art and science can accomplish. With cleanly streets, and the public parks beautified with the fountains which send forth cooling and refreshing vapours upon the air, the citizens will forget to leave the city during the warm months of summer; and the sea-shore, the mountain tops, and watering-places, will The market garden of Woodfield, when I first rememfancy their beauty has faded, since they cease to be ber it, was rented by a widow in the decline of life, who visited. But health is no less promoted by the internal with her grandson occupied a low substantially-built than by the external use of water; and it is to be hoped, cottage, with Flemish gables and ancient carved casethat but a short period will elapse before free baths ments, which formed the tenement belonging to the will be provided at the public expense for the use of garden. Old Aggy Durrant, as she was called, was not a the poor, as well as the public generally. Daily ablu-native of our county, though she had married a Suffolk tion should be regarded as necessary as daily food or sleep. The lime contained in the previous well-water rendered it inapplicable to the purposes of brewing, tanning, washing, bleaching, and many other processes in the arts of domestic economy; and, we believe, the calculation would not be found extravagant, if we would say that, by the use of the Croton water, 100,000 dollars would be saved to the inhabitants of New York in soap and soda, and an equal amount in tea and coffee. To this may be added the superior cleanliness of the streets, the diminution of danger from fires, and the consequent reduction of the rates of insurance; the improvement of the public health, and the consequent saving in medicine and physicians' fees; the increase of working days, and the extension of the average period of working ability among the labouring classes; and lastly, the moral and intellectual advancement of the entire population, attendant upon the improvement of their physical condition; each of which is not an unimportant item in the aggregate of public prosperity and happiness. The value, however, of an abundant supply of pure water to the city of New York is not to be estimated by dollars and cents; if it were, it could be easily shown that it has not been pur

man. The Woodfield peasants regarded her as a sort of foreigner, saying, 'She came out of the shires, and was not one of them.' The Suffolk peasantry have the most singular dislike to the natives of any other county than their own; nor will they, if they can possibly avoid it, accept a service in any division of England that bears the termination of shire. 'No, ma'am, I can't think of going into the shires,' is the reply of these determined clingers to native scenes, and oft times to native miseries; but why the idea of a shire should be so displeasing to our worthy East-Anglians, I never could make out. Certain it is, however, that the South folke are a peculiar people, having very few affections to bestow on strangers. Old Aggy had lived long enough in that cottage to have insured a local settlement in any village, one would think; but no, she was among the people, but not of them. Her accent betrayed her northern origin; her manners and customs differed from theirs. She neither ate hard dumplings nor white bacon, which made it plain she came out of the shires, and was not one of them.'

* Printed five years ago in a periodical work of limited circulation: now reprinted at the suggestion of the authoress.

The gossips complained that no one knew anything about her, except that she did not manage her garden like other people with proper straight walks and squares of cabbages, squares of potatoes, and squares of other kinds of garden sauce (the name by which the Suffolk peasants class vegetables, when they speak of them collectively), like people who pretended to get their living by selling their garden produce; but she had flower-beds and borders, and winding walks, like sarpents, with boweries at the corners, and arches made with climbing plants running over strings and bent sticks. Even her scarlet-beans and her peas were set out to look like some out-of-the-way fancy, all denoting the pride and ambition of this strange old woman with her popish name. No one, in reality, had less of these unpopular qualities than poor old Aggy Durrant. She was the meekest and most benevolent of living creatures. Very liberal halfpennyworths and pennyworths of small fruit did she dispense to her juvenile customers; and if she heard of a sick person having a craving desire for fruit, the first gatherings of her strawberries, her cherries, or her plums, were freely accorded by her, without a thought of payment.

Much as the picturesque arrangement of old Aggy's garden offended the bad taste of some of her invidious neighbours, it was always a favourite resort on holidays or summer evenings for young persons who wished for quiet enjoyment, a pleasant walk, and a cheap feast, or at night by a little improving conversation with the amiable mistress of this village Eden. Many a spare hour have I spent in acquiring a little of her practical knowledge in floriculture and herb-ology, for Aggy was learned in the virtues of plants, from the oak to the house-leek. She could distil simple waters and compound rare ointments for curing burns, blisters, and chilblains, and concoct draughts for the relief of coughs, colds, and many other of the maladies to which the poor were subject, and she never made any charges for her simple medicines, unless to those who could well afford to pay her. The squire's lady and the young ladies at the hall were great customers to Aggy Durrant for her double distilled rose-water and elder flower-water, and the apothecary himself privily purchased her mint-water, and gave her extensive orders for her healing ointments, though he told every one that she was a shocking old quack, and ought not to be encouraged.' He was her best customer, nevertheless, and never ordered conserve of roses, conserve of hips, or currant-jelly of any one else.

"Why, that will be a great expense to you?'
'I fear it will.'

"They say you mean to make a parson of him?' pur-
sued the persevering querist.
'I cannot make parsons.'

In common with many others, I always suspected the widowed Aggy had seen better days. One day I told her so. She turned her mild eyes expressively upon me, and replied with impressive brevity, 'I have.'

As I was not actuated by the intrinsic spirit of vulgar curiosity, which led our Woodfield gossips to pry into the affairs of their neighbours, I made no other comment upon this rejoinder than a look indicative of the interest I had always taken in Aggy Durrant, from the days when I used to coax our nurse to let us spend our half-holiday pennies in buying strawberries or cherries from her garden. Not but that we had strawberries, cherries, and all other fruits in their season in our own garden almost ad libitum, but we did not think our fruit half so delicious as that which old Aggy gathered for us, and it was such a treat to sit in her jessamine bower to eat it, and to look at her flowers and learn all their names, and whether they were to be propagated from seeds or slips, and how to make floral pyramids by training major convolvoluses up strings pegged in a circle, and then all knotted together to a tall lath in a central point.

Years passed away, leading us from infancy to childhood, and from youth to maturity; but though time had wrought so manifestly with us, we perceived no parti cular change in Aggy and her garden. She had never altered the fashion of her garb-the garb of widowhoodthough sometimes, when she attended her customers in the garden, she now covered her closely-drawn cap with a black hood on chilly March days, an indication that she began to shrink from the sharp east winds; but her figure was unbent, and she was always to be seen on Sundays in her accustomed seat in the village church, with her substantially bound book of common-prayer and bible, both of a venerable appearance, and dignified with silver clasps. Like Aggy Durrant, they too had seen better days, and like her they did not appear older than when first I remembered them. It was in the widow's grandson that the only remarkable change had taken place. The curly-headed schoolboy had become a sedate and somewhat sentimental student. Aggy lamented that she could not send him to college; not that she breathed such a word to her every-day customers, who would have laughed the idea to scorn, she Some people fancied Aggy Durrant must be growing only whispered the regret to me, that she had not made rich, as she had so many ways of getting money; but an effort in the first instance to get him into some public her profits were too small, and her charities too abundant, school, where he might have earned a scholarship.' for the acquisition of wealth, and all her savings were 'Perhaps,' said she, 'I have been too proud in dreademployed in the education of her orphan grandsoning to encounter a denial, yet for his sake, I ought to George. Till he was twelve years of age, the boy had have applied to my kinswoman; she could have got no other instructor but herself, and it was evident that George a presentation if she had pleased.' she understood enough of the rudiments of learning to have enabled her to keep a preparatory school; but Aggy Durrant was of an active turn, and preferred her miscellaneous employments to the sedentary business of tuition. When George, to use her expression, got beyond her in his learning.' Aggy Durrant astonished and offended all her neighbours by actually sending him to a boarding-school kept by a worthy curate in a neighbouring town. As soon as this fact transpired, Aggy had an influx of customers-extraordinary, who came-it being winter-time, when no cheap winter-fruits were in season-for pennyworths of raddish seeds and cabbage seeds, and pints of peas and beans, as an excuse for catechising the old lady on the subject of her grandson's departure from Woodfield, and her reasons for sending him to Scrapton school.

6

6

'Can she not now stand his friend in allowing him a maintenance at college?' asked I.

'Ay,' rejoined Aggy, if she please, but I do not feel disposed to ask favours of those who scorn me.'

The widow drew her hand over her eyes, and remained for some minutes in deep but silent communings with her own soul, and then, after a long pause, she said, No one can be competent to offer counsel in this matter who is not acquainted with the real circumstances of the case, and there is no reason why I should conceal them from a true friend. In my early life I was one of those unfortunate individuals who have no settled station or place in society. Left an orphan at so tender an age, that I scarcely have any remembrance of my parents, I was brought up in the nursery of a proud and wealthy family, to whom I was, it seems, distantly Aggy had a quiet laconic way of replying to cross-related, but never otherwise acknowledged than as an questioning, that might have baffled the most imperti- object of charity. I was what is called a humble denent barrister on a country circuit. 'So you have sent pendent; that is to say, a servant without wages-a George to boarding-school, Mrs Durrant?' began the creature with all the artificial wants and wishes belongbaker's wife. ing to a lady, without the slightest means of gratifying them. I was the lowly companion of the only daughter

'Yes.'