birds and beasts, enacted a most discordant imitation of the voices of the originals.

"I have complied with the fashion," said the Burgomaster, "in setting aside a room for all this trumpery, and dignifying it with the name of a museum. The folks of Rotterdam are mad for these conceits and toys, and it is wise, as the monkish adage runs, 'sinere insanum mundum vadere quò vult; nam vult vadere quò vult.'-For myself, I hold them but as poor and puerile; and if your taste jump with mine, you would rather possess one relic of my gallery below, than all these barbarous trophies and elaborate playthings. But you shall judge for yourself, if you will follow me."

Willingly accepting this invitation, Jocelyn accompanied his host into a long gallery at the back of the house, supported by Doric columns, and filled with statues, marbles, and antiques, of the greatest rarity and beauty. Some of the former, in particular, were of the most exquisite proportions; and as he gazed upon them with fervent delight, his admiration of the Burgomaster's character was enhanced when he informed him, that he had at that moment two agents in the Greek Islands expressly employed to discover and purchase marbles for his collection. In the course of conversation he also learned, that he united the diplomatic avocations with those of the merchant and the virtuoso, having been once despatched to Paris by their High Mightinesses on a secret mission; and twice on a similar errand to

the late Protector of England. When he combined his little scraps of Latin, his attention to the paltriest details of business, and his sordid fear of losing a single nutmeg, with his utter indifference to expense in his magnificent establishment, his love of the arts, and his presumed diplomatic talents, he was at a loss to determine in what class to place him, whether among the plodding and thrifty burghers of Rotterdam, or with such enlightened and princely merchants as the De Medici of Flo

rence.

"Let us begone," said the Burgomaster—“ breakfast must have been long since ready, and we shall in our turn be keeping Constantia waiting."-Jocelyn tore himself away the more reluctantly from the contemplation of a Venus Callipyges, which had Just engaged his attention, because he had from the first, by some unaccountable association, anticipated a resemblance between the Burgomaster's daughter and his Dutch step-mother. He was prepared, by all the Dutch women he had hitherto seen, for voluminous protruding hips, thick legs, a sodden sandy face, and that sort of form and physiognomy, which might in some degree remind him of Sir John's admission as to Lady Compton, that she had become "a trifle fishy in the face, and a thought sowish in the figure."

"Ah! I thought so," he exclaimed as he entered the apartment, and saw a female seated at the table, whose prim and formal figure, white eye-lash

es, grey eyes, and old-maidish appearance, were far from prepossessing, although they would not by any means have authorized Sir John's ungallant and disparaging phrases. She saluted Jocelyn with a coldness of manner and forbidding aspect that seemed calculated to repel any attempt at intimacy, even had he been disposed to make it; but as he saw at once that all his unfavourable presentiments were confirmed, so far at least as could be judged from her demeanour, he determined to address himself to the Burgomaster, and leave his sour-looking daughter to her own meditations. The lapse of a few seconds, however, served to undeceive him as to the notions he had so hastily and erroneously formed. "Aha! Miss Vanspaacken," cried the Burgomaster, "I have just been saying that Constantia must not read Celanire over-night, if I am to expect my chocolate-cream in the morning. Though she is now too old to be deemed any longer your pupil, you should read her a lecture on the subject. As for me, though I can scold upon occasion with any churl that growls in Rotterdam, I could not twit the baggage, no not for the value of the Vrouw Roosje's cargo, though she contains nothing but spices: Aha! Joffer Vanspaacken, think of that."-"Miss Beverning has been up and waiting some time for her breakfast," replied the person thus addressed, pursing up her mouth, and bending stiffly to the Burgomaster"but as you did not appear, she has gone to look

at her flowers, whence she will doubtless return in two or three minutes."-Jocelyn smiled at the idea of his having mistaken the governess, or rather the duenna, for the damsel; though he still thought that nothing very prepossessing could be expected in the pupil, when he contemplated the starch and pragmatical institutrice.

In the midst of these lucubrations the door opened, and he almost started from his seat at the apparition of the two large and lustrous black eyes he had seen at the Tournament in Paris, and which had too deeply impressed his memory to permit any mistake as to their identity. Nor was the recognition less instantaneous and electric on the part of the lady, who stopped short, blushed deeply, drew down the blue-veined lids over her large orbs, and seemed unable for a few seconds to recover from her confusion and surprise; while Miss Vanspaacken perked herself up with a keen suspicious look, and the astonished Burgomaster, taking the pipe from his lips, and letting the smoke escape as it liked from his open mouth, exclaimed, "Hey, Slapperloot? wat is ér in de weg? what's the matter?"-These were the only sounds that were uttered for a short interval, at the expiration of which, Jocelyn, having in some degree recovered his self-possession, explained to his host, that if he were not mistaken, he had had the pleasure of seeing Miss Beverning at the royal Tournament, in Paris.

"And did you recollect her so immediately?" inquired the Burgomaster. "I was there with her, but you I did not seem to remember me when we first encountered." There might have been more reasons for this difference than entered into the speaker's immediate contemplation, though he still seemed to be at a loss to account for their mutual surprise and agitation, when Constantia, who had now become more collected, exclaimed, "This is the gentleman that unhorsed the Bohemian Baron in the lists, and who picked up my scarf, when, by mere accident, owing to my leaning too forward, it slipped from my shoulders."

As Jocelyn noticed the alacrity with which she seized the first opportunity of exculpating herself from any intentional bestowal of that favour, he thought it right to acquit himself also of any vain misconstructions he might have been supposed to put upon the occurrence, by declaring that he had made every inquiry for the purpose of restoring it, but without success. "Aha!" cried the Burgomaster, 66 were you the young Cavaliero who bore off the Baron's casque like a pennon to your lance ? Donder en' blixem! you gave him a rough greeting and a sore fall. What was the value of the sword the King gave you ?"

Jocelyn declared that he had never thought of estimating it, as he only prized the honour, without adverting to the intrinsic value. "But the honour is sometimes more gratifying," replied the mer