What Will He Do With It, Book 2.

ral inclinations of man, after the fashion of all sound ethnological historians.-A charioteer, to whom an experience of British laws suggests an ingen

he gay river scenery he had so lately quitted,-quite as English, but rather the England of a former race than that which spreads round our own generation like one vast suburb of garden-ground and villas. Here, nor village nor spire, nor porter's lodge came in sight. Rare even were the cornfields; wide spaces of unenclosed comm

every, gravely soft and lulling. There, Ambition might give rest to the wheel of Ixion, Avarice to the sieve of the Danaids; there, disappointed Love might muse on the brevity of all human passions, and count over the tortured hearts that have found peace in holy meditation, or are now stilled un

arrell's property?" Of the extent of that prope

peak of hereabouts. But he bought a good bit o' land, too, some years ago, ten or

es

wley old Manor House. It must be, I take it, four or five years ago sin' I wor there with a gent, and he went away wh

seed him as I knows on; see'd two o' his hosses though,-rare good uns;" and th

ing from the road, and deeply shadowed by venerable tr

is the

he eye before the gaze turned towards the house: it had an air of tranquillity so sequestered, so solemn. A lively man of the world would have been seized with spleen at the first glimpse of it; but he who had known some great grief, some anxious care, would have drunk the calm into his weary soul like an anodyne. The house,-small, low, ancient, about the date of Edward VI., before the statelier architecture of Elizabeth. Few houses in England so old, indeed, as Fawley Manor House. A vast weight of roof, with high gables; windows on the upper story projecting far over the lower part; a covered porch with a coat of half- obliterated arms deep panelled over the oak door. Nothing grand, yet all how venerable! But what is this? Close beside the old, quiet, unassuming Manor House rises the skeleton of a superb and costly pile, -a palace uncompleted, and the work evidently suspended,-perhaps long since, perhaps now forever.

and said, "Yes; Squire Darrell began to build that-many years ago-when I was a boy. I heerd s

do you

; nout ever does. There's our churchwarden comes to me with a petition to sign agin the Pope. Says I, 'That old Pope is always in trouble: what's he bin doin' now?' Says he, 'Spreading! He's a-got

fusion: for then, for the first time, there darted across him the idea that he had never written to announce his acceptance of Mr. Darrell's invitation; that

to re-enter his chaise. The boy was naturally rather bold than shy, and he said, with

d the fly, took out the knapsack, and, observing Lionel had his purse in his hand, said, "Allow me to save you that trouble, sir. Driver, round to the stable-yard." Step