AUNT DEBORAH. 

By Mary Russell Mitford

A crosser old woman than Mrs. Deborah Thornby was certainly not to befound in the whole village of Hilton. Worth, in country phrase, a powerof money, and living (to borrow another rustic expression) upon hermeans, the exercise of her extraordinary faculty for grumbling andscolding seemed the sole occupation of her existence, her only pursuit, solace, and amusement; and really it would have been a great pity tohave deprived the poor woman of a pastime so consolatory to herself, andwhich did harm to nobody: her family consisting only of an old labourer, to guard the house, take care of her horse, her cow, and her chaise andcart, and work in the garden, who was happily, for his comfort, stonedeaf, and could not hear her vituperation, and of a parish girl oftwelve, to do the indoor work, who had been so used to be scolded allher life, that she minded the noise no more than a miller minds theclack of his mill, or than people who live in a churchyard mind thesound of the church bells, and would probably, from long habit, havefelt some miss of the sound had it ceased, of which, by the way, therewas small danger, so long as Mrs. Deborah continued in this life. Hercrossness was so far innocent that it hurt nobody except herself. Butshe was also cross-grained, and that evil quality is unluckily apt toinjure other people; and did so very materially in the present instance. 

Mrs. Deborah was the only daughter of old Simon Thornby, of Chalcottgreat farm; she had had one brother, who having married the rosy-cheekeddaughter of the parish clerk, a girl with no portion except her modesty, her good-nature, and her prettiness, had been discarded by his father, and after trying various ways to gain a living, and failing in all, hadfinally died broken-hearted, leaving the unfortunate clerk's daughter, rosy-cheeked no longer, and one little boy, to the tender mercy of hisfamily. Old Simon showed none. He drove his son's widow from the door ashe had before driven off his son; and when he also died, an eventwhich occurred within a year or two, bequeathed all his property to hisdaughter Deborah. 

This bequest was exceedingly agreeable to Mrs. Deborah, (for she wasalready of an age to assume that title, ) who valued money, not certainlyfor the comforts and luxuries which it may be the means of procuring, nor even for its own sake, as the phrase goes, but for that which, toa woman of her temper, was perhaps the highest that she was capable ofenjoying, the power which wealth confers over all who are connected withor dependent on its possessor. 

The principal subjects of her despotic dominion were the young widow andher boy, whom she placed in a cottage near her own house, and with whosecomfort and happiness she dallied pretty much as a cat plays with themouse which she has got into her clutches, and lets go only to catchagain, or an angler with the trout which he has fairly hooked, andmerely suffers to struggle in the stream until it is sufficientlyexhausted to bring to land. She did not mean to be cruel, but she couldnot help it; so her poor mice were mocked with the semblance of liberty, although surrounded by restraints; and the awful paw seemingly sheathedin velvet, whilst they were in reality never out of reach of the horrorsof the pat. 

It sometimes, however, happens that the little mouse makes her escapefrom madam pussy at the very moment when she seems to have the unluckytrembler actually within her claws; and so it occurred in the presentinstance. 

The dwelling to which Mrs. Deborah retired after the death of herfather, was exceedingly romantic and beautiful in point of situation. Itwas a small but picturesque farm-house, on the very banks of the Loddon, a small branch of which, diverging from the parent stream, and crossedby a pretty footbridge, swept round the homestead, the orchardand garden, and went winding along the water meadows in a thousandglittering meanders, until it was lost in the rich woodlands whichformed the back-ground of the picture. In the month of May, when theorchard was full of its rosy and pearly blossoms, a forest of lovelybloom, the meadows yellow with cowslips, and the clear brimming river, bordered by the golden tufts of the water ranunculus, and garlanded bythe snowy flowers of the hawthorn and the wild cherry, the thin wreathof smoke curling from the tall, old-fashioned chimneys of the prettyirregular building, with its porch, and its baywindows, and gable-endsfull of light and shadow, --in that month of beauty it would be difficultto imagine a more beautiful or a more English landscape. 

On the other side of the narrow winding road, parted from Mrs. Deborah'sdemesne by a long low bridge of many arches, stood a little rustic mill, and its small low-browed cottage, with its own varied back-ground ofgarden and fruit trees and thickly wooded meadows, extending in longperspective, a smiling verdant valley of many miles. 

Now Chalcott mill, reckoned by everybody else the prettiest point in herprospect, was to Mrs. Deborah not merely an eye-sore, but a heart-sore, not on its own account; cantankerous as she was, she had no quarrel withthe innocent buildings, but for the sake of its inhabitants. 

Honest John Stokes, the miller, was her cousin-german. People did saythat some forty years before there had been question of a marriagebetween the parlies; and really they both denied the thing with so muchvehemence and fury, that one should almost be tempted to believe therewas some truth in the report. Certain it is, that if they had been thatwretched thing a mismatched couple, and had gone on snarling togetherall their lives, they could not have hated each other more zealously. One shall not often meet with anything so perfect in its way as thataversion. It was none of your silent hatreds that never come to words;nor of your civil hatreds, that veil themselves under smooth phrasesand smiling looks. Their ill-will was frank, open, and above-board. Theycould not afford to come to an absolute breach, because it would havedeprived them of the pleasure of quarrelling; and in spite of thefrequent complaints they were wont to make of their near neighbourhood, I am convinced that they derived no small gratification from theopportunities which it afforded them of saying disagreeable things toeach other. 

And yet Mr. John Stokes was a well-meaning man, and Mrs. Deborah Thornbywas not an ill-meaning woman. But she was, as I have said before, crossin the grain; and he--why he was one of those plain-dealing personageswho will speak their whole mind, and who pique themselves upon that sortof sincerity which is comprised in telling to another all the illthat they have ever heard, or thought, or imagined concerning him, in repeating, as if it were a point of duty, all the harm that oneneighbour says of another, and in denouncing, as if it were a sin, whatever the unlucky person whom they address may happen to do, or toleave undone. 

"I am none of your palavering chaps, to flummer over an old vixen forthe sake of her strong-box. I hate such falseness. I speak the truth andcare for no man, " quoth John Stokes. 

And accordingly John Stokes never saw Mrs. Deborah Thornby but hesaluted her, pretty much as his mastiff accosted her favourite cat;erected his bristles, looked at her with savage bloodshot eyes, showedhis teeth, and vented a sound something between a snarl and a growl;whilst she, (like the fourfooted tabby, ) set up her back and spit at himin return. 

They met often, as I have said, for the enjoyment of quarrelling; and aswhatever he advised she was pretty sure _not_ to do, it is probablethat his remonstrances in favour of her friendless relations served toconfirm her in the small tyranny which she exercised towards them. 

Such being the state of feeling between these two jangling cousins, itmay be imagined with what indignation Mrs. Deborah found John Stokes, upon the death of his wife, removing her widowed sister-in-law from thecottage in which she had placed her, and bringing her home to the mill, to officiate as his housekeeper, and take charge of a lovely littlegirl, his only child. She vowed one of those vows of anger which I fearare oftener kept than the vows of love, to strike both mother and sonout of her will, (by the way, she had a superstitious horror of thatdisagreeable ceremony, and even the temptation of choosing new legateeswhenever the old displeased her, had not been sufficient to induce herto make one, --the threat did as well, ) and never to speak to either ofthem again as long as she lived. 

She proclaimed this resolution at the rate of twelve times an hour, (that is to say, once in five minutes, ) every day for a fortnight; andin spite of her well-known caprice, there seemed for once in her lifereason to believe that she would keep her word. 

Those prudent and sagacious persons who are so good as to take thesuperintendence of other people's affairs, and to tell by the look ofthe foot where the shoe pinches and where it does not, all united inblaming the poor widow for withdrawing herself and her son from Mrs. Deborah's protection. But besides that no human being can adequatelyestimate the misery of leading a life of dependence upon one to whomscolding was as the air she breathed, without it she must die, apenurious dependence too, which supplied grudgingly the humblest wants, and yet would not permit the exertions by which she would joyfully haveendeavoured to support herself;--besides the temptation to exchange Mrs. Deborah's incessant maundering for the Miller's rough kindness, and herscanty fare for the coarse plenty of his board, --besides these homelybut natural temptations--hardly to be adequately allowed for by thosewho have passed their lives amidst smiling kindness and luxuriousabundance; besides these motives she had a stronger and dearer in herdesire to rescue her boy from the dangers of an enforced and miserableidleness, and to put him in the way of earning his bread by honestindustry. 

Through the interest of his grandfather the parish clerk, the littleEdward had been early placed in the Hilton free school, where he hadacquitted himself so much to the satisfaction of the master, thatat twelve years old he was the head boy on the foundation, and tookprecedence of the other nine-and-twenty wearers of the full-skirtedblue coats, leathern belts, and tasseled caps, in the various arts ofreading, writing, cyphering, and mensuration. He could flourish a swanwithout ever taking his pen from the paper. Nay, there is little doubtbut from long habit he could have flourished it blindfold, like theman who had so often modelled the wit of Ferney in breadcrumbs, that hecould produce little busts of Voltaire with his hands under the table;he had not his equal in Practice or the Rule of Three, and his piece, when sent round at Christmas, was the admiration of the whole parish. 

Unfortunately, his arrival at this pre-eminence was also the signal ofhis dismissal from the free school. He returned home to his mother, and as Mrs. Deborah, although hourly complaining of the expense ofsupporting a great lubberly boy in idleness, refused to appentice him toany trade, and even forbade his finding employment in helping her deafman of all work to cultivate her garden, which the poor lad, naturallyindustrious and active, begged her permission to do, his mother, considering that no uncertain expectations of money at the death of hiskinswoman could counterbalance the certain evil of dragging on his daysin penury and indolence during her life, wisely determined to betakeherself to the mill, and accept John Stokes's offer of sending Edwardto a friend in town, for the purpose of being placed with a civilengineer:--a destination with which the boy himself--a fine intelligentyouth, by the way, tall and manly, with black eyes that talked andlaughed, and curling dark hair, --was delighted in every point of view. He longed for a profession for which he had a decided turn; he longedto see the world as personified by the city of cities, the unparagonedLondon; and he longed more than either to get away from Aunt Deborah, the storm of whose vituperation seemed ringing in his ears so long as hecontinued within sight of her dwelling. One would think the clack of themill and the prattle of his pretty cousin Cicely might have drownedit, but it did not. Nothing short of leaving the spinster fifty milesbehind, and setting the great city between him and her, could efface theimpression. 

"I hope I am not ungrateful, " thought Edward to himself, as he wastrudging London-ward after taking a tender leave of all at the mill; "Ihope I am not ungrateful. I do not think I am, for I would give my rightarm, ay, or my life, if it would serve master John Stokes or please dearCissy. But really I do hope never to come within hearing of Aunt Deborahagain, she storms so. I wonder whether all old women are so cross. Idon't think my mother will be, nor Cissy. I am sure Cissy won't PoorAunt Deborah! I suppose she can't help it. " And with this indulgentconclusion, Edward wended on his way. 

Aunt Deborah's mood was by no means so pacific. She staid at homefretting, fuming, and chafing, and storming herself hoarse--which, asthe people at the mill took care to keep out of earshot, was all so muchgood scolding thrown away. The state of things since Edward's departurehad been so decisive, that even John Stokes thought it wiser to keephimself aloof for a time; and although they pretty well guessed that shewould take measures to put in effect her threat of disinheritance, thefirst outward demonstration came in the shape of a young man (gentlemanI suppose he called himself--ay, there is no doubt but he wrote himselfEsquire) who attended her to church a few Sundays after, and wasadmitted to the honour of sitting in the same pew. 

Nothing could be more unlike our friend Edward than the stranger. Fair, freckled, light-haired, light-eyed, with invisible eye-brows andeye-lashes, insignificant in feature, pert and perking in expression, and in figure so dwarfed and stunted, that though in point of age he hadevidently attained his full growth, (if one may use the expression tosuch a he-doll, ) Robert at fifteen would have made two of him, --such wasthe new favourite. So far as appearance went, for certain Mrs. Deborahhad not changed for the better. 

Gradually it oozed out, as, somehow or other, news, like water, willfind a vent, however small the cranny, --by slow degrees it came tobe understood that Mrs. Deborah's visiter was a certain Mr. AdolphusLynfield, clerk to an attorney of no great note in the good town ofBelford Regis, and nearly related, as he affirmed, to the Thornbyfamily. 

Upon hearing these tidings, John Stokes, the son of old Simon Thornly'ssister, marched across the road, and finding the door upon the latch, entered unannounced into the presence of his enemy. 

"I think it my duty to let you know, cousin Deborah, that thishere chap's an impostor--a sham--and that you are a fool, " was hisconciliatory opening. "Search the register. The Thornlys have beenyeomen of this parish ever since the time of Elizabeth--more shame toyou for forcing the last of the race to seek his bread elsewhere; and ifyou can find such a name as Lynfield amongst 'em, I'll give you leaveto turn me into a pettifogging lawyer--that's all. Saunderses, andSymondses, and Stokeses, and Mays, you'll find in plenty, but nevera Lynfield. Lynfield, quotha! it sounds like a made-up name in astory-book! And as for 'Dolphus, why there never was anything like it inall the generation, except my good old great aunt Dolly, and that stoodfor Dorothy. All our names have been christian-like and English, Toms, and Jacks, and Jems, and Bills, and Sims, and Neds--poor fellow! None ofyour outlandish 'Dolphuses. Dang it, I believe the foolish woman likesthe chap the better for having a name she can't speak! Remember, I warnyou he's a sham!" And off strode the honest miller, leaving Mrs. Deborah too angry for reply, and confirmed both in her prejudice andprepossession by the natural effect of that spirit of contradictionwhich formed so large an ingredient in her composition, and was notwholly wanting in that of John Stokes. 

Years passed away, and in spite of frequent ebbs and flows, the tide ofMrs. Deborah's favour continued to set towards Mr. Adolphus Lynfield. Once or twice indeed, report had said that he was fairly discarded, but the very appearance of the good miller, anxious to improve theopportunity for his protégé, had been sufficient to determine his cousinto reinstate Mr. Adolphus in her good graces. Whether she really likedhim is doubtful. He entertained too good an opinion of himself to bevery successful in gaining that of other people. 

That the gentleman was not deficient in "left-handed wisdom, " wasproved pretty clearly by most of his actions; for instance, when routedby the downright miller from the position which he had taken up of anear kinsman by the father's side, he, like an able tactician, wheeledabout and called cousins with Mrs. Deborah's mother; and as that goodlady happened to have borne the very general, almost universal, name ofSmith, which is next to anonymous, even John Stokes could not dislodgehim from that entrenchment But he was not always so dexterous. Cunningin him lacked the crowning perfection of hiding itself under theappearance of honesty. His art never looked like nature. It staredyou in the face, and could not deceive the dullest observer. His veryflattery had a tone of falseness that affronted the person flattered;and Mrs. Deborah, in particular, who did not want for shrewdness, foundit so distasteful, that she would certainly have discarded him uponthat one ground of offence, had not her love of power been unconsciouslypropitiated by the perception of the efforts which he made, and thedegradation to which he submitted, in the vain attempt to please her. She liked the homage offered to "_les beaux yeux de sa cassette_" prettymuch as a young beauty likes the devotion extorted by her charms, andfor the sake of the incense tolerated the worshipper. 

Nevertheless there were moments when the conceit which I have mentionedas the leading characteristic of Mr. Adolphus Lynfield had well nighbanished him from Chalcott. Piquing himself on the variety and extentof his knowledge, the universality of his genius, he of course paidthe penalty of other universal geniuses, by being in no small degreesuperficial. Not content with understanding every trade better thanthose who had followed it all their lives, he had a most unluckypropensity to put his devices into execution, and as his informationwas, for the most part, picked up from the column headed "varieties, "in the county newspaper, where of course there is some chaff mingledwith the grain, and as the figments in question were generally illunderstood and imperfectly recollected, it is really surprising that theyoung gentleman did not occasion more mischief than actually occurred bythe quips and quiddities which he delighted to put in practice wheneverhe met with any one simple enough to permit the exercise of his talents. 

Some damage he did effect by his experiments, as Mrs. Deborah found toher cost. He killed a bed of old-fashioned spice cloves, the pride ofher heart, by salting the ground to get rid of the worms. Her broods ofgeese also, and of turkeys, fell victims to a new and infallible mode offeeding, which was to make them twice as fat in half the time. Somehowor other, they all died under the operation. So did half a score of fineapple-trees, under an improved method of grafting; whilst a magnificentbrown Bury pear, that covered one end of the house, perished of thegrand discovery of severing the bark to increase the crop. He lamed Mrs. Deborah's old horse by doctoring him for a prick in shoeing, and ruinedher favourite cow, the best milch cow in the county, by a most needlessattempt to increase her milk. 

Now these mischances and misdemeanors, ay, or the half of them, wouldundoubtedly have occasioned Mr. Adolphus's dismission, and the recall ofpoor Edward, every account of whom was in the highest degree favourable, had the worthy miller been able to refrain from lecturing his cousinupon her neglect of the one, and her partiality for the other. It wasreally astonishing that John Stokes, a man of sagacity in all otherrespects, never could understand that scolding was of all devisableprocesses the least likely to succeed in carrying his point with one whowas such a proficient in that accomplishment, that if the old penaltyfor female scolds, the ducking-stool, had continued in fashion, shewould have stood an excellent chance of attaining to that distinction. But so it was. The same blood coursed through their veins, and histempestuous good-will and her fiery anger took the same form of violenceand passion. 

Nothing but these lectures _could_ have kept Mrs. Deborah constant inthe train of such a trumpery, jiggetting, fidgetty little personageas Mr. Adolphus, --the more especially as her heart was assailed in itsbetter and softer parts, by the quiet respectfulness of Mrs. Thornly'sdemeanour, who never forgot that she had experienced her protectionin the hour of need, and by the irresistible good-nature of Cicely, asmiling, rosy, sunny-looking creature, whose only vocation in this worldseemed to be the trying to make everybody as happy as herself. 

Mrs. Deborah (with such a humanising taste, she could not, in spite ofher cantankerous temper, be all bad) loved flowers: and Cicely, arover of the woods and fields from early childhood, and no despicablepractical gardener, took care to keep her beaupots constantly suppliedfrom the first snowdrop to the last china rose. Nothing was too largefor Cicely's good-will, nothing too small. Huge chimney jars of lilacs, laburnums, horse-chestnuts, peonies, and the golden and gorgeous doublefurze; china jugs filled with magnificent double stocks, and richwallflowers, * with their bitter-sweet odour, like the taste of orangemarmalade, pinks, sweet-peas, and mignonette, from her own littlegarden, or woodland posies that might beseem the hand of the faeriequeen, composed of those gems of flowers, the scarlet pimpernel, and theblue anagallis, the rosy star of the wild geranium, with its aromaticcrimson-tipped leaves, the snowy star of the white ochil, and that thirdstarry flower the yellow loose-strife, the milk vetch, purple, or pink, or cream coloured, backed by moss-like leaves and lilac blossoms of thelousewort, and overhung by the fragrant bells and cool green leaves ofthe lily of the valley. 

 * Few flowers, (and almost all look best when arranged each sort in its separate vase, )--few look so well together as the four sorts of double wallflowers. The common dark, (the old bloody warrior)--I have a love for those graphic names-- words which paint the common dark, the common yellow, the newer and more intensely coloured dark, and that new gold colour still so rare, which is in tint, form, growth, hardiness, and profusion, one of the most valuable acquisitions to the flower garden. When placed together in ajar, the brighter blossoms seem to stand out from those of deeper hue, with exactly the sort of relief, the harmonious combination of light and shade, that one sometimes sees in the rich gilt carving of an old flower-wreathed picture- frame, or, better still, it might seem a pot of flowers chased in gold, by Benvenuto Cellini, in which the workmanship outvalued the metal. Many beaupots are gayer, many sweeter, but this is the richest, both for scent and colour, that I have ever seen. 

It would puzzle a gardener to surpass the elegance and delicacy of sucha nosegay. 

Offerings like these did our miller's maiden delight to bring at allseasons, and under all circumstances, whether of peace or war betweenthe heads of the two opposite houses; and whenever there chanced to be alull in the storm, she availed herself of the opportunity to add to hersimple tribute a dish of eels from the mill-stream, or perch from theriver. That the thought of Edward ("dear Edward, " as she always calledhim, ) might not add somewhat of alacrity to her attentions to hiswayward aunt, I will not venture to deny, but she would have done thesame if Edward had not been in existence, from the mere effect of herown peacemaking spirit, and a generosity of nature which found morepleasure in giving than in possessing. A sweet and happy creature wasCicely; it was difficult even for Mrs. Deborah to resist her gentlevoice and artless smiles. 

Affairs were in this posture between the belligerents, sometimes war tothe knife, sometimes a truce under favour of Cissy's white flag, whenone October evening, John Stokes entered the dwelling of his kinswomanto inform her that Edward's apprenticeship had been some time at an end, that he had come of age about a month ago, and that his master, for whomhe had continued to work, was so satisfied of his talents, industry, andintegrity, that he had offered to take him into partnership for a sumincredibly moderate, considering the advantages which such a connexionwould ensure. 

"You have more than the money wanted in the Belford Bank, money thatought to have been his, " quoth John Stokes, "besides all your propertyin land and houses and the funds; and if you did advance this sum, whichall the world knows is only a small part of what should have belonged tohim in right of his father, it would be as safe as if it was in the Bankof England, and the interest paid half-yearly. You ought to give ithim out and out; but of course you won't even lend it, " pursued thisjudicious negotiator; "you keep all your money for that precious chap, Mr. 'Dolphus, to make ducks and drakes with after you are dead; a finejig he'll dance over your grave. You know, I suppose, that we've got thefellow in a cleft stick about that petition the other day? He persuadedold Jacob, who's as deaf as a post, to put his mark to it, and when hewas gone, Jacob came to me (I'm the only man in the parish who can makehim hear) to ask what it was about. So upon my explaining the matter, Jacob found he had got into the wrong box. But as the chap had takenaway his petition, and Jacob could not scratch out his name, what doeshe do but set his mark to ours o' t'other side; and we've wrote allabout it to Sir Robert to explain to the Parliament, lest seeing Jacob'sname both ways like, they should think 'twas he, poor fellow, that meantto humbug 'em. A pretty figure Mr. 'Dolphus 'll cut when the story comesto be told in the House of Commons! But that's not the worst. He tookthe petition to the workhouse, and meeting with little Fan Ropley, whohad been taught to write at our charity-school, and is quick at her pen, he makes her sign her name at full length, and then strikes a dot overthe _e_ to turn it into Francis, and persuade the great folk up atLunnun, that little Fan's a grown-up man. If that chap won't comesomeday to be transported for forgery, my name's not John Stokes! Well, dame, will you let Ned have the money? Yes or no?"

That Mrs. Deborah should have suffered the good miller to proceed withhis harangue without interruption, can only be accounted for on thescore of the loudness of tone on which he piqued himself with so muchjustice. When she did take up the word, her reply made up in volubilityand virulence for any deficiency in sound, concluding by a formalrenunciation of her nephew, and a command to his zealous advocate neveragain to appear within her doors. Upon which, honest John vowed he neverwould, and departed. 

Two or three days after this quarrel, Mr. Adolphus having arrived, as happened not un-frequently, to spend the afternoon at Chalcott, persuaded his hostess to accompany him to see a pond drawn at the Hall, to which, as the daughter of one of Sir Robert's old tenants, she wouldundoubtedly have the right of _entrée_; and Mrs. Deborah assented to hisrequest, partly because the weather was fine, and the distance short, partly, it may be, from a lurking desire to take her chance as abystander of a dish of fish; they who need such windfalls least, beingcommonly those who are most desirous to put themselves in their way. 

Mr. Adolphus Lynfield's reasons were obvious enough. Besides the _ennui_of a tête-a-tête, all flattery on one side and contradiction on theother, he was naturally of the fidgetty restless temperament which hatesto be long confined to one place or one occupation, and can neverhear of a gathering of people, whatever might be the occasion, withoutlonging to find himself amongst them. 

Moreover, he had, or professed to have, a passion for field sports ofevery description; and having that very season contrived, with his usualcurious infelicity, to get into as many scrapes in shooting as shalllast most sportsmen their whole lives--having shot a spaniel instead ofa hare, a keeper instead of a partridge, and his own foot instead ofa pheasant, and finally, having been taken up for a poacher, althoughwholly innocent of the death of any bird that ever wore feathers, --afterall these woeful experiences, (to say nothing of mischances in anglingwhich might put to shame those of our friend Mr. Thompson, ) he foundhimself particularly well disposed to a diversion which appeared tocombine in most choice union the appearance of sporting, which heconsidered essential to his reputation, with a most happy exemption fromthe usual sporting requisites, exertion or skill. All that he wouldhave to do would be to look on and talk, --to throw out a hint here anda suggestion there, and find fault with everything and everybody, like aman who understood what was going forward. 

The weather was most propitious; a bright breezy sunny October day, withlight snowy clouds, chased by a keen crisp wind across the deepblue heavens, --and the beautiful park, the turf of an emerald green, contrasting with the brown fern and tawny woods, rivalling in richnessand brightness the vivid hues of the autumnal sky. Nothing couldexceed the gorgeous tinting of the magnificent trees, which, whether indetached clumps or forest-like masses, formed the pride and glory ofthe place. The oak still retaining its dark and heavy verdure; the elmletting fall a shower of yellow leaves, that tinged the ground beneath;the deep orange of the horse-chestnut, the beech varying from ruddy goldto greenish brown; and above all, the shining green of the holly, andthe rich purplish red of the old thorns, those hoary thorns, the growthof centuries, gave to this old English gentleman's seat much of thevariety and beauty of the American backwoods. The house, a statelyancient mansion, from the porch of which you might expect to see SirRoger de Coverley issue, stood half-way up a gentle hill, finely backedby woods of great extent; and the pond, which was the object of thevisit, was within sight of the windows, but so skilfully veiled bytrees, as to appear of much greater extent than it really was. Themaster and mistress of the Hall, with their pretty daughters, wereabsent on a tour:--Is any English country family ever at home in themonth of October in these days of fashionable enterprise? They were goneto visit the temples of Thebes, or the ruins of Carthage, the Fountainsof the Nile or the Falls of Niagara, St. Sophia, or the Kremlin, or somesuch pretty little excursion, which ladies and gentlemen now talk of asfamiliarly "as maids of puppy dogs. " They were away. But enough ofthe household remained at Chalcott, to compose, with a few visiters, asufficiently numerous and animated group. 

The first person whom Mrs. Deborah espied, (and it is remarkable that wealways see first those whom we had rather not see at all, ) was her oldenemy the miller, --a fisherman of so much experience and celebrity, thathis presence might have been reckoned upon as certain--busily engaged, together with some half-dozen stout and active coadjutors, in draggingthe net ashore, amidst a chorus of exclamations and cautions from thevarious assistants, and the breathless expectation of the spectators onthe bank, amongst whom were Mrs. Thornly and Cicely, accompanied by atall, athletic young man of dark complexion, with peculiarly bright eyesand curling hair, whom his aunt immediately recognised as Edward. 

"How improved he is!" was the thought that flashed across her mind, aswith an air of respectful alacrity he stepped forward to meet her; butthe miller, in tugging at his nets, happened to look towards them, andashamed that he of all men should see her change of feeling, she turnedaway abruptly, without acknowledging his salutation, and walked off tothe other side with her attendant, Mr. Adolphus. 

"Drat the perverse old jade!" exclaimed John Stokes, involuntarily, ashe gave a mighty tug, which brought half the net ashore. 

"She's heavy, my good sir!" observed the pompous butler, conceiving thatthe honest miller's exclamation had reference to the sport; "only seehow full she is! We shall have a magnificent hawl!"

And the spectators, male and female, crowded round, and the fishermenexerted themselves so efficiently, that in two minutes the net was ondry land. 

"Nothing but weeds and rubbish!" ejaculated the disappointed butler, apeculiarly blank look taking the place of his usual self-importance. "What can have become of the fish?"

"The net has been improperly drawn, " observed Mr. Adolphus; "I myselfsaw four or five large carp just before it was dragged ashore!"

"Better fling you in, master 'Dolphus, by way of bait!" ejaculated ourfriend the miller; "I've seen jacks in this pond that would make nomore bones of swallowing a leg or an arm of such an atomy as you, ifthey did not have a try at the whole body, than a shark would of boltingdown Punch in the show; as to carp, everybody that ever fished a pondknows their tricks. Catch them in a net if you can. They swim round andround, just to let you look at 'em, and then they drop plump into themud, and lie as still and as close as so many stones. But come, Mr. Tomkins, " continued honest John, addressing the butler, "we'll tryagain. I'm minded that we shall have better luck this time. Here aresome brave large tench, which never move till the water is disturbed; weshall have a good chance for them as well as for the jacks. Now, steadythere, you in the boat Throw her in, boys, and mind you don't draw toofast!" So to work they all went again. 

All was proceeding prosperously, and the net, evidently well filled withfish, was dragging slowly to land, when John Stokes shouted suddenlyfrom the other side of the pond--"Dang it, if that unlucky chap, master'Dolphus there, has not got hold of the top of the net! He'll pull itover. See, that great jack has got out already. Take the net from him, Tom! He'll let all the fish loose, and tumble in himself, and the waterat that part is deep enough to drown twenty such mannikins. Not that Ithink drowning likely to be his fate--witness that petition business, "muttered John to himself in a sort of parenthesis. "Let go, I say, oryou will be in. Let go, can't ye?" added he, in his loudest tone. 

And with the word, Mr. Adolphus, still struggling to retain his hold ofthe net, lost his balance and fell in, and catching at the person nexthim, who happened to be Mrs. Deborah, with the hope of saving himself, dragged her in after him. 

Both sank, and amidst the confusion that ensued, the shrieks and sobsof the women, the oaths and exclamations of the men, the danger wasso imminent that both might have been drowned, had not Edward Thornly, hastily flinging off his coat and hat, plunged in and rescued Mrs. Deborah, whilst good John Stokes, running round the head of the pond asnimbly as a boy, did the same kind office for his prime aversion, theattorney's clerk. What a sound kernel is sometimes hidden under a roughand rugged rind!

Mr. Adolphus, more frightened than hurt, and with so much of theconceit washed out of him by his involuntary cold bath, that it might beaccounted one of the most fortunate accidents in his life, was conveyedto the Hall; but her own house being almost equally near, Mrs. Deborahwas at once taken home, and put comfortably to bed in her own chamber. 

About two hours afterwards, the whole of the miller's family, Mrs. Thornly still pallid and trembling, Cicely smiling through her tears, and her father as blunt and freespoken as ever, were assembled round thehomely couch of their maiden cousin. 

"I tell you I must have the lawyer fetched directly. I can't sleep tillI have made my will;" said Mrs. Deborah. 

"Better not, " responded John Stokes; "you'll want it alteredto-morrow. "

"What's that you say, cousin John?" inquired the spinster. 

"That if you make your will to night, you'll change your mindto-morrow, " reiterated John Stokes. "Ned's going to be married to myCicely, " added he, "and that you mayn't like, or if you did like itthis week, you might not like it next So you'd better let matters restas they are. "

"You're a provoking man, John Stokes, " said his cousin--"a veryprovoking, obstinate man. But I'll convince you for once. Take that key, Mrs. Thornly, " quoth she, raising herself in bed, and fumbling in animmense pair of pockets for a small old-fashioned key, "and open the'scrutoire, and give me the pen and ink, and the old narrow brown book, that you'll find at the top. Not like his marrying Cicely! Why I alwayshave loved that child--don't cry, Cissy!--and have always had cause, forshe has been a kind little creature to me. Those dahlias came from her, and the sweet posy, " pursued Mrs. Deborah, pointing to a nosegay ofautumn flowers, the old fragrant monthly rose, mignionette, heliotrope, cloves, and jessamine, which stood by the bedside. "Ay, that's the book, Mrs. Thornly; and there, Cissy, " continued Aunt Deborah, filling up thecheck, with a sum far larger than that required for the partnership--"there, Cissy, is your marriage portion. Don't cry so, child!" said she, as the affectionate girl hung round her neck in a passion of gratefultears--"don't cry, but find out Edward, and send for the lawyer, for I'mdetermined to settle my affairs to night And now, John Stokes, I knowI've been a cross old woman, but.... "

"Cousin Deborah, " interrupted John, seizing her withered hand with agripe like a smith's vice, --"Cousin Deborah, thou hast acted nobly, and I beg thy pardon once for all. God bless thee!--Dang it, " added thehonest miller to himself, "I do verily believe that this squabbling hasbeen mainly my fault, and that if I had not been so provoking she wouldnot have been so contrary. Well, she has made us all happy, and we musttry to make her happy in return. If we did not, we should deserve to besoused in the fish-pond along with that unhappy chap, Master 'Dolphus. For my part, " continued the good yeoman, forming with great earnestnessa solemn resolution--"for my part, I've fully made up my mind neverto contradict her again, say what she will. No, not if she says black'swhite! It's contradiction that makes women contrary; it sets their backsup, like. I'll never contradict her again so long as my name's JohnStokes. "