the pond, and those beautiful woods in the distance, where we can stroll together. Then we shall have no tiresome visitors to annoy us; no servants to plague us; only your maid for yourself, a little page to wait on me, and an old woman, who was let with the house, and who will attend to every thing for us. Shall we

not be happy?"

What answer the young lady returned, is unknown; certain it is, that for three days of fine-nay, of lovely weather, their felicity was perfect, and uninterrupted.

The first drawback to their happiness, or rather to that of Helen, began to dawn on the fourth day, when she descended to the breakfast parlour; Herbert had been waiting twenty minutes for her to pour out his coffee.

"I wish, my dear Helen, you would contrive to be a little quicker at your toilet; I am half famished,' said Herbert, in a tone of reproach, seating himself at the table, and commencing the demolition of a plate of toast.

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My dear Herbert, I am sorry to have detained you, but I have been obliged to dress myself. Léonie has actually given me warning; she says she can't sleep another night in the house, because the morning sun comes into her room, and the place is so dull. What had I better do?"

"Let her go, by all means," replied Herbert. "You can easily hire some one in her stead."

"I shall never be able to meet with a French maid at this time of the year," said Helen.

"Then, my love, you must content yourself with an English Abigail.”

"Heavens! my dear Herbert, you don't know what you are talking about; only fancy the scarecrow I should be transformed into, if I trusted myself to the mercy of an English lady's maid. Besides, Léonie has always dressed me; mamma hired her entirely for me, and I cannot part with her; I will make any sacrifice rather than lose her."

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Well, my dear Helen, that question can be settled after breakfast," said Herbert rather hastily, seemingly

more intent on breaking his egg, than alive to the calamity which threatened his bride.

The breakfast passed in silence; lelen thought it very hard to be obliged to lose such a treasure of an Abigail, and rather unfeeling of Herbert not to sympathize in her distress. Consequently, as soon as the morning meal was over, she withdrew to her dressing room, where Léonie, like Niobe all in tears, was waiting for her wages, and also with a modest request, that her lady would be so kind as to send her to town in the carriage, as there was not a post-chaise to be had in the village. When the demand was made known to Herbert, he was thunder-struck; not being aware of the vast importance of Parisian "suivantes."

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My dear love, is it possible you can countenance such absurdity?" He at last said, "If she persists in going, cannot she find her way to town in the stage coach, or the omnibus, van, or some of the conveyances that pass the gate in the course of the day?"

"But Léonie has always been accustomed to travel with us by the carriage; I don't suppose that she was ever in a stage coach in her life," said Helen.

"It will be an excellent opportunity for her to begin now," replied Herbert, laughing; "I have known a gentlewoman of rather more consideration than your maid, who has been obliged to travel by a public conveyance."

"Really, Herbert, I cannot ask Léonie to go to town in a stage coach."

"Nor can I, Helen, send five miles off for post horses, to gratify a mere whim of your servant."

And without vouchsafing another word, he walked out into the garden, and Helen retreated into her apartment to weep, whilst Léonie, scolding, remonstrating, and bewailing her fate in very voluble French, and particularly broken English, did contrive to find her way down to the village inn, escorted by the page, who carried her bandboxes.-This was the first inroad into the happiness of the honeymoon. Helen felt it was a trifle, but like the rent in Mr. Pepy's cloak, "The damage was not great; but it troubled him."

Herbert, meanwhile, was indulging in reflections equally unpleasing:-to think that Helen should seemingly take part with a menial, and tacitly accuse him of unkindness. In this frame of mind they each passed the morning, and only met at dinner. For the first time since their marriage, they did not find the presence of a servant a restraint on their conversation. Instead of speaking in French whilst he was present, they restricted their observations to a few remarks on the weather; and when the dessert was placed on the table, they both sat in awful silence. Herbert, after a pause of a quarter of an hour, asked Helen if she wished to walk out before tea, and Helen, colouring, replied rather hastily,

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Certainly not; I beg I may not prevent you from amusing yourself. Besides, I shall have little time to walk, or read, or in fact do anything but work; for now Léonie is gone, I must finish whatever needlework she has begun;" and rising as she concluded, she pushed away her glass of wine untasted, and plate of strawberries, which Herbert had carefully selected for her, and then left the room. Of course after that, her husband resolved to preserve a dignified silence; and whilst his bride was bustling about up stairs, emptying drawers and bandboxes, (under the idea, that as it was full three days since they were in perfect order, they must require a perfect investigation,) Herbert chose to remain in the parlour. It must be owned that amidst all the mighty fuss she made, Helen, every now and then, stopped and stole towards the landing to listen if he was not coming in search of her; and, to speak the truth, the gentleman did saunter into the verandah, and endeavour to peep through the ample muslin curtains which shaded the drawing room, to see if, perchance, his bride were not there. At last, seeing that she persisted in shutting herself up, he went into the sitting room, took up his flute, and began to play a favourite air which Lady Mary had copied out for him. This was the crowning act of cruelty; Helen was coming down with her sweetest smile, but hearing Herbert playing an air, which a rival had preferred,

she darted into the room, took no notice of him, seized her work basket, and then vanished. Very impolitic! for just then Herbert really felt something like compunction, and was on the point of leaving off to go in search of his bride. This ebullition of temper disconcerted him; instead of seeking to conciliate her, he quitted the house, leaving word with the page that he should not be in to tea.

"Beware of the first dispute," ought to be the chief advice that young married people are requested to bear in mind. Helen shut herself up in her room to indulge in the sulks; and Herbert preferred to walk about swampy, damp meadows till a late hour, in thin shoes, because, in the fever heat of his indignation, he did not choose to go up stairs for his boots, lest the lady should think that he was coming to apologise. It will not be wondered at that the breakfast next morning should be as dull as a select party. The good humour of neither had been improved by this temporary "brouillerie;" they were as silent as a disciple of Pythagoras, during his year of probation, or a couple of Trappists. At last the post came in; it was a happy incident for both, though the letters they received were neither congratulatory, nor satisfactory. Helen's was from her mother, (to whom she had written on first taking possession of her new home,) and after deploring her daughter's obstinacy in choosing to marry a poor man, when she might have been a wealthy baronet's lady, Mrs. Mortimer averred her intention of discarding her from her house and heart ; she by courtesy being supposed to possess one. was a hardship, almost as great as being obliged to dress without the assistance of Léonie. Herbert's correspondence was equally unamusing, to judge from his countenance; for besides a short note from Lady Dalton, (requesting that all intercourse between their families might cease,) there were several formidable looking enclosures from sundry worthy hatters, tailors, shoemakers, and glovers, &c. &c. &c. who took the liberty of reminding Mr. Dalton that their bills had been sent in some time, that ready money was scarce.

This

Herbert was unfortunately too well aware of this; but to be reminded of it at a time when he was most in want of it, was very provoking.

"I wish, Helen, that you would let the cook know that it is impossible to drink such coffee and swallow such ham as this; and she has actually made the toast with salt butter," said Herbert, impatiently.

"Will you have the goodness to tell her yourself what you want," replied Helen, with provoking coolness. "I would much rather you gave your own orders." And ringing the bell, she desired the cook might be sent to her master.

That useful domestic was busily employed in polishing a dish cover; and to Helen's surprise, who had been accustomed all her life to a well ordered household, she made her appearance in not the most becoming dishabille, to which a green baize apron, covered with whiting, gave a very peculiar finish. To their remonstrances respecting the coffee, and ham, and butter, she informed them there was nothing better to be had at the shop, and they must send to town for them, if they didn't like it. She then withdrew.

"How could you fix upon such a place as this to live in?" said Helen, when the servant had left them. It is enough to give one the horrors."

"You thought it charming a few days ago," rejoined Herbert, who was sadly out of temper. But if I am to be poisoned with such trash as that, I would rather starve. By the bye, I desired the boy to get my cigars."

"Surely you are not going to smoke, Mr. Dalton?" (Mr. in the first week of a honeymoon sounds badly.) ." Indeed I am.”

"Not in this room, I hope."

"Certainly not; I don't wish to annoy you; I can go into the dining room.

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"That is directly under my boudoir; I shall be quite ill with that horrid smell."

"Where is my cigar case?" enquired Herbert of the page, who entered in obedience to his summons.

"I gave it to Ma'amselle to pack up," said the boy.