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SCENES IN A COUNTRY-HOUSE.

No. II.-OLD TIMES AND MODERN TIMES.

In an old-fashioned house near Askrigg, in the north riding of Yorkshire, Sir George and Lady Oldstyle were seated at breakfast on a fine morning in last September. Their only daughter, Fanny, was officiating at the smoking tea-urn; and a side table loaded with cold meat, game pies, &c., and a fire at each end of the large room (a very necessary addition in those latitudes even at this season) completed the comfortable picture. The view from the windows commanded in the distance abrupt hills which rose almost into the dignity of mountains, hanging woods, and bounding streams; and, in the more immediate neighbourhood of the house, a somewhat formal garden, which was, however, rendered gay by all the old-fashioned flowers which bloomed there in endless variety.

Suddenly the old woman who, in these remote parts, filled the character of post-woman, was seen crossing the garden, and endless were the speculations in the family party as to the letter of which she was

the bearer.

"I declare, my dear," said the old Baronet, "here is Nanny with a letter for us: it is not newspaper day. I wonder whom it can be

from ?"

His wonderings were soon set at rest as the letter was put into his hands.

"Franked, I declare, though I can hardly read the signature: people do write such hands now-a-days. I think though the name is Morland." "There is a Captain Morland, a member of parliament, papa," said Fanny; son to your old friend, Lord Morland."

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Well, well, we will soon see:" and he read aloud.

"Ambleside, Sept. 2nd, 1836. "DEAR SIR,-When I had the pleasure of meeting you at my father's, Lord Morland's, when I was yet a boy, you were good enough to say that you hoped I should not forget your house if I came in that direction. I have just been making the tour of our beautiful English lakes, and as I have heard a great deal of the scenery of Wensleydale, I purpose returning that way; and, if your house should not happen to be full, should be delighted to pay you and Lady Oldstyle a visit en passant. I should propose the 9th, and hope you will use no more ceremony in saying if it should be inconvenient to you, than I have had in reminding you of your invitation.

Believe me, dear Sir, yours truly,

"WILLIAM MORLAND."

"House full!" said Sir George, as he folded up the letter, "no great chance of that! I am sure I shall be very glad to see a son of Lord Morland's, even though it seems we owe his visit entirely to the beauty of our dales here. I think he might have said something of the pleasure of improving his acquaintance with so old a friend of his father's."

"Oh, papa," said Fanny," it is not the fashion now to make fine speeches. He tells you the real reason of his coming this way, that you may not be surprised at his proposing himself."

“Well, well; I suppose you must know what is the fashion as you have been once to London; but I do not see that there would have been any harm in saying what was civil, and what he ought to feel: I am sure I should not have been a bit surprised."

"I suppose, my dear," said Lady Oldstyle, "we must write to accept his proposal?"

"To be sure, to be sure," said Sir George. "Fanny shall write for me; and do not forget to add, my dear, that I look forward with great pleasure to making acquaintance with the son of his father; you may say this, though it is not the fashion." So saying, he marched off to take a stroll through his favourite haunts.

Well, indeed, did Carperby Hall deserve all the affection with which the good Baronet, after a thirty years' almost uninterrupted sojourn there, regarded it. For those who find a pleasure in the picturesque, in "high wild hills and rough uneven ways," in "pathless woods," and leaping waterfalls, the neighbourhood of Aysgarth and Redmire could not fail to have charms; and it was only the fact of Wensleydale being so little frequented as not even to have a stage-coach through its various market towns, that made it rather a triste séjour for Fanny. As for Sir George and his lady, they were well satisfied to go on with their old occupations in their old ways, and as long as they had their merry little Fanny to play to them, read to them, and talk to them in the evenings, they were the happiest couple in Yorkshire, and felt that a strange guest was rather to be welcomed than desired.

On the afternoon of the 9th, the family party was all assembled in the library, having taken their exercise early and in the neighbourhood of the house, in order to ensure being ready to receive their visitor. Sir George did not give in to the opinion that the most hospitable way of treating a guest, who arrives for the first time, is to allow him to find his way into some deserted morning room, under the guidance of a servant, there to amuse himself with the newspapers till he feels inclined to retire to his room, where he may while away his time till dinner, and then descend to a room full of strangers. No, no; he thought the earlier he took an opportunity of assuring his guests that they were welcome, and of showing it to them by his manner, the better. He had, therefore, been some time seated with his family, and was paying the sure penalty for his old-fashioned notions, and for the rarity of such an event as the arrival of a stranger, by putting himself into rather a fuss. For the seventh time he had exclaimed, "There he is!" and for the seventh time had discovered that it was only the roller which the gardener had chosen this particular afternoon to bring into play, effecting at certain intervals, as he ran it down a slope in the gravel walk, a most successful imitation of a carriage.

For the fifth time this afternoon the worthy baronet began wondering "what sort of a chap the new guest would be;" adding, however, for the first time," but, by-the-by, Fanny, you very likely heard something about him when you were in London this summer. Did you see him, my dear ?"

Fanny avoided the first question, and replied—

"Yes, I did see him once, at that great fancy ball for the Academy of Music."

"Well, but what sort of a fellow is he?"

"Oh! he's good looking, certainly."

"Pooh! I didn't mean that. What sort of person?" "Oh! I don't know him, Papa."

Well, but what do people say of him?"

"Oh! they say he's rather fine!”

"Fine! what's that ?"

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Why, I hardly know what to say; I should not think it was a compliment, and yet I don't believe people are much affronted when they are accused of it."

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Well, but I suppose it means something. What do you understand by it? Come, come, Fanny, you must let us profit by your London experience. None of your unknown tongues here. What do they mean now-a-days when they say that a man is fine?"

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Why, Papa, some would tell you it is when a person feels and displays contempt for every person or thing out of his own sphere of excellence. I believe, however, it is when he does not take equally to every one he meets, and seems not to mind (or cannot help) showing it. At all events, it appears to imply superiority either real or imaginary, and that is the reason, I suppose, why people do not dislike being taxed with it."

"Upon my word, my little Fanny," said Sir George, "you quite outdo Dr. Johnson in definitions, and certainly you do not seem to think the Captain the worse for being fine. But if it means, as I suspect, that a man gives himself airs when chance throws him out of his usual set, I shall very soon give my young friend a hint that it will be much easier for him to change his quarters than alter my ways. No, no, I am too old for that. Fine, indeed! Well, I almost wish-But no matter." The half-hour bell now rang, and Sir George having again inquired whether they had mentioned the dinner hour in the letter to Captain Morland, told the ladies to go up-stairs to dress, and that he would stay to welcome his guest. Left to himself, he opened all the doors between the library and the hall, and walked up and down, with his hands behind him, stopping for a few minutes each time, he reached the hall-door to listen for the sound of wheels. At last, within ten minutes of the dinner hour, the door-bell sounded, and Sir George shook most warmly by the hand, a good-looking young man, who, having already heard from the servants that the dressing-bell had rung, began to make his apologies. "Very sorry to be so late, my dear Sir, but I know that in a country-house the nominal dinner hour is never the real one, so I"I always dine at the hour I say," interrupted the Baronet.

"Oh, very well then," glancing at the clock and lighting his candle, "better lose no more time apologizing; the fact is though," (as they walked up stairs) "that I could not resist stopping to sketch the effect of sunset in one of your beautiful valleys close by here."

This was unluckily not striking a kindred chord in the bosom of Sir George, as he was not particularly strong in his love for the picturesque; he however replied

"I sent the ladies to dress-I thought you would excuse their being here to receive you."

"My dear Sir George! I only wish you had also gone yourself." "No, no, young gentleman, we are rather rough people in this out

of-the-way place, but not quite so rough as that. No, no; perhaps you may not get much here, but at least you will get a hospitable welcome; and now let me again assure you how glad I am to see you, and leave you to wash your hands."

"Wash my hands!" said Captain Morland, as the door closed on the old Baronet; 66 no, no, I must dress a little more than that, even if there were no one in the house but the fair Fanny, whose acquaintance I have yet to make. By-the-by, Wilson," (to his servant) "have you made out yet who are staying in the house?"

"There's nobody, Sir, except the family; Sir George, Lady, and Miss Oldstyle."

At this moment the sound of wheels was heard, and another ring at the door-bell.

"There now, Wilson, I do not want anything more just at present; go down and find out the name of the new arrival, and bring me word, as usual, when they begin to put the dishes on the table."

In a few minutes Wilson returned with his information.

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If you please, Sir, I've been down, and I find the new arrival is only Dr. Dawkins, the Vicar, come to dinner, and the dishes have been some time on the table, and they are all only waiting for you."

Captain Morland, who had every wish to do everything that was civil, provided he did it in his own way, hurried on everything almost any way, and ran down stairs. He found the family party standing at the drawing-room door, like race-horses ready for a start that have only been delayed by the absence of one that has been late in saddling. The Doctor had already the young lady on his arm, and the introduction of the Captain to Lady Oldstyle was hardly effected before he found himself heading the "dual" procession across the hall to dinner. On their arrival in the dining-room he was just going to seat himself, when the Baronet interposed.

"I think, Captain, after waiting so long, we may just allow the Doctor here to say grace; it is an old fashion I've got, but I like to have grace said when I can get hold of a parson to do it."

When they sat down Morland expressed his regrets that they had waited for him.

"Why, my dear Captain," said the good Sir George, "the only way to prevent our waiting for you would have been to come down in time. I like to introduce my guests to my dining-room myself. I know what it is to arrive in a room and find everybody seated at dinner. I don't know anything that makes a man look more foolish."

"You had no accident on your journey, I hope," said Lady Oldstyle, willing to change the subject.

"Not one to boast of, I am afraid."

"No!" said the baronet; "the ladies will, I think, be rather surprised when they hear what delayed you. The fact was, there was such

a beautiful sunset, that the Captain could not resist sitting down at the roadside, like a sign-painter, to draw it."

Morland laughed very heartily and very good-humouredly at the old gentleman's description; and by that means made considerable progress in his favour. Miss Oldstyle now remarked that she was glad to hear that Captain Morland was an artist, and that she hoped he would make some sketches during his stay there.

"Oh, my dear Fanny," cried the Baronet, "I hope we shall find our young friend something better to do than that; I have kept three of the best beats untouched till he came, and we'll give the partridges a regular rattling."

Talking of your dales," said Morland, "the people who inhabit them seem to be quite a primitive race, a nice quiet set."

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"Why, as to their being quiet," said Sir George, with a look of importance, I can tell you that they sometimes give me a great deal of trouble as a magistrate."

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"Oh, aye; all that justice business must be a great bore."

"Justice business a bore!" said the Baronet, with a look of horror, for to him it formed the excitement of a monotonous life.

"Justice business a bore!" said Lady Oldstyle, who considered it to be the point in which lay her husband's greatest dignity.

Fanny only smiled, and, unluckily, it was to Fanny that the Captain was looking, he, therefore, proceeded without being aware of the scrape into which he had got: 66 Oh, no; I don't mean that it's a bore when you have some good interesting murder to inquire into." This he said with a tone of mock seriousness which was quite thrown away on the matter-of-fact Baronet, who merely looked puzzled. "I only meant," continued the Captain," when I said that justice business was a bore, to allude to the necessity of being arbiter in all the disputes between the old women of the parish."

The Baronet, who piqued himself on his skill in such matters, cut the discussion short by saying, "I rather think, my young friend, you are talking on a subject about which you have not had much experience."

The conversation now turned on other topics; and the new guest, who had "un art infini pour tirer de chaque question tout le parti possible," exerted himself most successfully. He had tact enough to talk on matters which would, without boring the ladies, be interesting to the Baronet and the good Vicar; he became very popular with all parties, and Lady Oldstyle honoured the gentlemen with a longer stay than usual.

When they were at last left to themselves, Sir George watched with some impatience and uneasiness the progress of his young friend through a very melting pear; and the moment he had finished, said, "And now, Captain Morland, if you please, I will ring, and have all this rubbish (glancing contemptuously at the dessert) removed, get a table by the fire, and have in a fresh bottle of claret, unless you like anything better."

"Oh, no, not for me, thank you, Sir George, I have done."

"Done! Why, you have not yet begun. I am sure you must want some good wine after all that cold pear," he added, with a very expressive look of horror.

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Well, thank you, then I think I will just take a glass of sherry." "Sherry! will you? Why, I am almost afraid there is no sherry in the room; there is, indeed, some excellent old madeira that has been in bottle these thirty years; and has gone twice to the Indies: I thought everybody liked that best. I have indeed some sherry in the room at dinner, for those who like to take wine with their water, or their pudding. However, we will soon have it up again."

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