I WAS describing, or attempting to describe (when beguiled from my own reminiscences of Oxford into a foreign and less selfish train of thought, by the long-forgotten incidents of the rowingmatch at Henley), what it is to revisit, at the distance of a quarter of a century, the seat of our early education to haunt, when ambition is dead within us, the scenes where it woke to apparently inextinguishable energy tread, when the torch of hope itself is quenched beneath the "pale glimpses" of life's waning moon, the courts and halls last bathed in all the sunny splendours of its cloudless dawn!

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It is a species of moral martyrdom, but, like all such, when braved at the call of duty, and endured, in the spirit of philanthropy, not unmingled with a redeeming touch of feelings elsewhere wooed in vain. Life, in its freshness, will steal once more over the soul, with the perennial verdure of the turf our ball seems but yesterday to have skimmed over; and the consciousness of our own decline and decay is lost in the venerable antiquity of the elms, which, like the giant revivers of literature whose musings they first sheltered, make us feel children still. We forget, too, the world's disappointments, where its "busy hum" and "dread laugh" come not; and end by wishing to dream out the remainder of a tranquil existence lulled by the chimes whose monotony our youthful impatience could ill brook.

I left Oxford with a heart soothed and renovated by early recollections and mature kindness. Two of my chosen associates still flourished there in perennial vigour of mind and body, filling the high places of their tranquil commonwealth with equal dignity and urbanity, and cherishing towards their less fortunate class fellow-feelings unchilled by time and distance.

But perhaps the sunniest spot in that wreck of sunshine, which revived as a latter summer the ". green places" of a long-desolate soul, was the accidental meeting with one dearer than the herd of college comrades -- one who had not only laughed with me in

the idle joyousness of youth, but wept with me in griefs under which even youth itself refused to be comforted. Unlike his bereaved and solitary companion, Harry Sefton was a man of ties and duties the honoured pas

tor of an attached flock, and the happy father of a promising family. His eldest sona creature but too studious for his early age and rapid growth

was now at Oxford; and it was to share his college triumphs, and escort him in safety to his parental home, that a lucky chance sent his father thither; while one he scarce knew to be in the land of the living was visiting (on, alas! less pleasing duty) the scene of their boyish acquaintance.

Our fortunate meeting took place but a day or two before professional avocations obliged my early friend to quit Oxford; and as to part thus suddenly we both felt to be impossible, my returning with him into Kent was rather taken for granted than proposed. I was not so familiar with happiness as to start an objection. A week or two of domestic felicity was too rare in my calendar not to be hailed with transport; and as for my time who, alas! was there to quarrel with its allotment? So I was seated in the chaise with my friend of thirty years' standing and his younger and graver second self, before I had well asked myself why I was undertaking a journey of some couple of hundred miles.

The shade of gravity which age had failed to shed over my elder friend's brow, I could perceive, however, to flit across it occasionally during our journey, and, strange to say, the more frequently as he drew near to a lovely and well-beloved home. When I spoke of his fine family with a sigh of solitariness, he echoed it with one of solicitude, and was evidently anxious to reach home from deeper motives than parental impatience.

This home was just the beau idéal, or rather the beautiful reality of an English parsonage. Spacious as its owner's liberal heart, yet unostentatious as his hospitality, it was equally removed from castle and cottage, hold

ing precisely that middle character which the priesthood of England occupies as a blessed link between the extremes of society. It neither stood in a park nor a pasture, and never could by possibility have been mistaken for a villa. It was just a parsonage, placed in an ample, rambling, old-fashioned garden, whose gigantic hedges defied the sea-breezes of the adjacent coast, and gave the shelter mushroom thousands cannot always purchase. So tenacious was the rector of infringing on the antique character of the building, that he steadily resisted the proposal to convert into a glass door a certain low parlour-window, through which man, woman, and child, had for generations untold, with more of agility than convenience, adjourned to the garden.

At the gate of this garden we were met by a wife, whose looks bespoke her used to listen for a husband's footsteps, and by a whole troop of gay yet decorous young people. One, I presumed, was absent; for, after an anxious look around, and as soon as the storm of gratulations had subsided, I heard my friend say to his wife, " And how has Louisa been since I left you?" "Better," was the reply; "the dear girl struggles nobly, and such efforts are not long without their reward. But you must not expect too much either in looks or spirits."

I had the invalid's plea for retiring awhile to my chamber, and the privilege of a friend to do exactly as I pleased; so it was not till dinner-time that I met the object of my friend's anxious queries a sweet, interesting girl of about eighteen--not beautiful enough for a picture or a novel, but quite sufficiently so to win the heart of a man of taste and feeling. She was better than beautiful: modest, graceful, and retiring, she grew upon the fancy as one gazed; and every fresh look enhanced the impression made by the last.

Of course my interest gathered strength and intensity from the hints I had overheard of a mental conflict, the traces of which were legibly written on a face too ingenuous for concealment. The flush of cordial joy which had brightened her cheek on her father's return, faded into paleness as one of the boys casually remarked of some trifling occurrence -"Ah! that was when Captain Darell was

here," and began calculating how far he might then be on his way to India; and when a little smiling prattler of a girl added, "Dear Captain Darell! I wish he was here now !" I could perceive by the quiver on her elder sister's lip, that he had not gone unregretted by older hearts than little Lucy's. Mrs. Sefton, with maternal instinct, soon changed the conversation; and even Louisa insensibly shared in its cheerfulness ere the ladies withdrew.

When my friend and I joined them in the drawing-room, after the most cordial glass I had for many years partaken, they were sitting in the oldfashioned bow-window, in that delicious twilight which sheds its holy calm on all around; and to which the moon, just rising over the softly curling waves, promised to lend a yet tenderer charm. "What an hour and what a light for music!" exclaimed Mr. Sefton ; "Louisa, my love, I hope your harp is in order."

His daughter, who had been sitting in a dark corner, with her eyes fixed in evident unconsciousness on the wide expanse of sea which glittered under the rising moon-beam, replied only by drawing the harp gently towards her, and beginning rather as if the expression of her own sentiments than the mere echo of another's- Bayly's beautiful ballad, "Oh, no, we never mention her!"

During the performance of this touching melody, every note of which, as it came forth, went straight to the heart, I had observed, from the position which I occupied, near the halfopen window, a figure concealed among the shrubs by which it was skirted. At the conclusion of the song, I thought it right to mention the circumstance, though in a playful manner, to avoid alarming the ladies. "You have lovers of music in your parish, I perceive, Mr. Sefton," said I, carelessly; "there has been a moon-struck amateur enjoying Miss Louisa's, behind that huge arbutus, for the last quarter of an hour."

Just then a privileged old Newfoundland dog, who was in the room, caught the stealthy step of the intruder without; and giving a short angry growl, jumped out at the low window after him. I felt half sorry for the harmless listener; but in a few moments the dog's stifled bark gave place to a whine of joyful recognition, and he again leaped into the apartment,

wagging his huge tail, and closely followed by a young man, who, without speaking to, or indeed seeming to notice any other member of the astonished group, walked straight up to one who sat clasping for support the harp before her, and said, "Louisa, I could not live without you! You will not be crueller than the winds and waves, which have sent me back to tell you

so."

Reply there neither was nor could be. The falling girl slid from the sustaining instrument like a snow-wreath from the mountain, and found more efficient support on the young man's shoulder. While her father and mother rushed forward, the children exclaimed, "Captain Darell!" and I, who could not with impunity brave the night air to escape, had no resource but to creep more closely into my corner, to avoid being in the way at such a critical

moment.

"Philip Darell!" said my friend, with more of sternness than I thought he could have felt or assumed, “was it for this I reared and loved you, and bore with the waywardness of youth, but to have the bitter fruits of a yet more erring manhood poured into my unsuspecting bosom? Not content with well-nigh breaking the heart of my darling child, are you come back to mar, in very wantonness, the charitable office of time and absence?"

"Judge me not so harshly, dear Mr. Sefton," said Philip, as he bent with the intense anxiety of genuine affection over the partially reviving girl. "Of my past conduct you can say nothing which a penitent heart refuses to echo-but oh! believe me now, when Providence itself has sent the returning prodigal to his father's door! His confession is soon made, and to one no stranger to the besetting sin of me and mine. We are a proud as well as ancient race, and pride drove me forth in cowardly silence from the roof beneath which my heart and treasure lay. I embarked for India with the barb of conscience and the pang of parting alike rankling in my soul; and when a storm overtook us almost ere we left our port, I felt as if a doomed victim to my own pride and prejudice. Thanks to that salutary tempest which drove me back upon the shores of Britain, I am here once more to lay myself and my repentance

at your gentle daughter's feet. All I ask is, that you will let her decide my fate. Be her decision what it may, I promise to submit to it without repining."

"My daughter shall decide, sir," said Mr. Sefton, parental indignation still struggling with early partiality; "it is to her the decision belongs: but it shall be upon my plain, unvarnished statement of the question. Look up, my darling Louise, and tell me, as in the sight of God and your earthly protectors, are you prepared to risk your fate, for time and eternity, with one who could win your inmost heart, trifle with, and leave you perhaps for ever ?"

There was a pause. The hardy soldier frame of Darell quivered like an aspen-leaf.

"But he is here, father!" whispered Louisa, raising for the first time her swimming eyes to those of her agitated supporter; and the parent felt that his appeal was answered, and the lover that his error was forgiven.

"Had I known, had I only suspected, that I was thus beloved," exclaimed the young man, "worlds should not have severed us for a moment! Oh, Louisa! why was not this sweet avowal made weeks ago?"

"Would it have been half so precious, Philip," asked Mr. Sefton, relaxing into his own mild manner, "then as now, when uttered in the face of neglect and desertion? Summer loves are like summer foliage, tarnished by the first untimely blast; but that which winter's fury only serves to deepen is your genuine evergreen! God bless you together, children of my love and my adoption! If I sowed the seeds of virtue in your infant bosom, Philip, may He ripen them to bless my child! She has been the joy and pride of many hearts at a British fireside-let her not regret it in the far land, where one alone must be to her as father and mother, and brother and sister!"

There was not, it may be believed, a dry eye in the family group at this affecting adjuration; and as the bright moonlight now poured a tide of unheeded radiance on their countenances, the mingled emotions legible there might have defied the painter's art. On Darell's manly features successful love, and the pride of returning integrity, were subdued by conscious

shame and recollection of error. The children, bewildered between grief, and joy, and wonder, scarce knew whether to laugh or cry, and alternately did both. Mr. Sefton's mild brow partook, like his language and feelings, of lingering severity and constitutional indulgence.

Two of the group alone seemed absorbed by one single, overwhelming sentiment. The mother felt only that she had, perhaps for ever, lost her child; and Louisa, for the moment, only that she had regained her lover. His return had been so unexpected, so hopeless, so utterly beyond the wildest dreams of romance, that she could only satisfy herself of its reality by lifting now and then her soft blue eyes from the mild bosom of her mother to the beaming countenance of her betrothed. But even this delightful "certainty of waking bliss" was not selfishly proof against long-cherished filial feelings. The warm tears that rained from her mother's eyes on her departing treasure soon met an answering flow; and they retired to pour them uncontrolled together.

When they were gone, Darell-to whom I was now for the first time introduced as his future father's early friend, and who, I flatter myself, was happily unconscious of my previous presence-proceeded to impart to us a circumstance connected with his sudden return, which he had not courage to communicate without preparation to either Louisa or her mother, viz. that though he had, without a moment's hesitation, forfeited his passage in the vessel in which he originally embarked, to fulfil his honourable errand, a delay of three days was all he had thereby purchased, as the last ship of the season, of which, consistently with his honour and duty, he could not avoid availing himself, was to sail within that period.

"Are you prepared, Mr. Sefton," asked the young man, 66 to crown your generous forgiveness, by giving me your daughter's hand to-morrow, and parting with her, alas! the moment the ceremony is over?"-" This is sudden," said the father, meekly, after a short pause "To-morrow! What will my poor wife say to it?"

"Would to Heaven I could spare her the blow, sir! But the rules of our service admit of no compromise, and no ship will sail during the next

four months for my destination. It is not to a superseded deserter you would wish to unite your daughter's fortunes?"- "No, no, my dear son," said Mr. Sefton; "you are but doing your duty, and God will enable me to do mine-ay, and even strengthen poor Mary to say, His will be done. It would be, in the words of Holy Writ, to strain at a gnat after swallowing a camel,' to grudge you a few short days, after resigning the delight of our eyes to you for life. But there are minor matters to be considered. A voyage cannot be undertaken, and by a female, without necessary preparations."

"My dear sir," said Darell, blushing as he spoke at his own inference, "I fear you will call me a sad puppy, if I tell you that I ventured, on the strength of a sanguine character and knowledge of your daughter's angelic sweetness, to write, on leaving the ship at Deal, to a friend of my mother's in London, to have in readiness all that could possibly be required for a lady's comfort and accommodation. 'Iflam the happy man I scarce deserve to be,' added I, you shall have notice to despatch them by express to the out port. If not, as you value my friendship, let me never hear of them

more.'

"If I tell this to Louisa," said her father, forcing a smile, "she will draw back still. To bespeak the paraphernalia of an unwooed bride was indeed a bold stroke for a wife. But the exigency of the case must, I suppose, be admitted as an excuse. There was forethought in it, Philip, and that augurs well for the future. And now good night, my dear son! I must have leisure calmly to review the wonderful events of this evening, ere I can remember them aright either in my petitions or my praises."

"I am sure," said I, and most sincerely, "it will ever be numbered among my sources of thanksgiving that I have been present on an occasion of such deep and uncommon interest. I am an old man, Captain Darell, and have lived to lose the angel object of an attachment, to which yours-excuse me for saying it is as yet but as the willow twig to the oak of centuries. But, believe me, my feelings when I laid her in the dust were blissful, compared to what yours must have been had not Providence saved you the agony of fruitless

remorse. All's well that ends well and so I trust will your marriage impromptu."

The worn and harassed aspect of the good pastor, as on the following morning he alone joined Darell and myself at the breakfast-table, attested the conflict he had had to sustain with nature, in reconciling his poor wife to so sudden a separation. But the conquest had, in mightier strength than their own, been achieved; and when Mrs. Sefton, encircled by her remaining children, looked in for a moment on us, there was a serenity of resignation on her countenance which seemed to oppress Darell more than clamorous grief.

Louisa did not appear. There were paternal and maternal counsels to be received, too sacred for even the ear of affection-and filial tears to be shed and wiped, too bitter for the eye of affection to witness and many a fervent prayer to be poured out, that a step so hastily though irresistibly adopted might not prove a rash one. All this was done, and in heartfelt sincerity; yet Louisa wondered and was half ashamed to feel so happy. To leave all, save one, whom she had ever loved, and yet not be entirely miserable! -to see, even through her tears, the image of Philip Darell prostrate in penitence and passion at her feet! It was strange, unaccountable, inconsistent, and therefore - human nature!

not so with the struggling and subdued group around the altar of, when its venerable pastor pronounced, with a faltering voice and moistened eye, the words which made over to another the only one among his household treasures, as yet endeared to him by the hallowing touch of sorrow.

It was mine to give, with the feeling of one to whom the very word marriage had long been sadly ominous, the trembling hand of the hardly conscious bride to him on whose usually animated features the flush of triumph was quenched in the tears of a household. The mother stood rooted to the spot on which chance had placed her, pale and motionless as the rudely sculptured

mourner on an adjoining tomb; while the usually blooming brothers and sisters, with their white dresses and whiter countenances, might have passed for cherubs of monumental alabaster.

The ceremony was over, and at the door stood the carriage which was to convey away the dizzy object of such a sudden revolution from her bewildered relations. To part at such a moment and under such circumstances, seemed ominous. A sudden thought struck me; and while the daughter hastily exchanged her bridal garb for travelling attire, I said to her father, "Why lose a few precious hours, or perhaps days, which the winds may yet lend you of one so dear? Let me send for another carriage, and we will all accompany the dear couple, and see them safely on board."

The proposal seemed an inspired one, and was carried by acclamation. An old sociable which the village afforded gave room for a party_of younkers only to be equalled by Mrs. Gilpin's famous one

Three precious days were spent at P-, in that intensity of mutual affection which springs from impending separation; but they borrowed cheerfulness from hopes of future reunion. Even Mrs. Sefton could survey with satisfaction Darell's liberal and judicious arrangements for her daughter's comfort, to which one circumstance alone seemed wanting.

Time had not permitted the friend who provided all inanimate requisites for the voyage, to secure the services of a respectable European female; and Darell was inquiring of the captain, without much hope of success, for one among his humbler passengers to supply the deficiency.

"You could not have been in better luck, sir," answered the captain, "if you had sailed as often as I have.