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THE NEW BRIDGE.

THE striking of the centering was as anxious a moment for Harry, in his second bridge, as it had been in his first; more so indeed, for this arch was all of his own construction. Cautiously he withdrew the wedges, and lowered the centering some inches. A clear space between it and the stone arch appeared, through which Lucy, as she stood low down on the bank of the rivulet, could see, and perceiving that the bridge now stood unsupported, she ran up to Harry rejoicing.

"But you are not satisfied, Harry! Why do you stand so silent? What are you looking at?” said she. "What do you see?”

"I see something that I do not like,” replied Harry; "I see some cracks there at the haunches,. at the sides of the arch."

"Very little cracks," said Lucy.

"Them bees only from the settling of the work, master," said the handy man, who had come to help Harry to take down the centering. "I dare to say it will crack no more when so be that it bees all settled. It is right good mason work as hands can do, and it will stand as long as the world stands, I dare say."

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"I dare say it will," repeated Lucy, glad, as we all are, especially on subjects where we are ignorant and anxious, to catch at the support even of a dareto-say from a headless man. Harry, without listen ing, jumped down to examine his foundations, and came up again with a calm, satisfied look. My butments are safe, they cannot be forced away, they cannot be thrust out. We may take down the centering and carry it quite away, carry it to the house; I promised my father to return the boards." And I may run home and call papa and mamma to see the bridge standing alone, in all its glory," said Lucy.

She went; but long Harry waited for her return. Once he thought he heard a carriage: too true! a provoking carriage; the first since they had come to Rupert's Cottage, that had arrived. Lucy returned breathless.

"Mamma advises you, Harry, to come in." "Does she, indeed?" said Harry, much disappointed; but recollecting what had happened the last time he had neglected a summons of this sort, he immediately turned his back on his bridge, and followed Lucy. She was desired not to tell him who the visitors were, and he did not care, he said, he did not want to know their names; they must be strangers, and of strangers, one name was to him the same as another. He could have wished to know how many people there were, but Lucy

seemed to consider it her duty not to answer this question, and Harry forbore to repeat it. Though he had conquered his original habits of bashfulness, sufficiently to be able to face strangers without much visible repugnance, yet still he felt an inward reluctance Nevertheless, courageously he turned the lock of the door, and entered the sitting-room. To his relief, for it must be confessed, notwithstanding his intrepid entrance, it was a relief to him, he found that there was not what he dreaded, a formal circle. There were only two people; an elderly gentleman, whose countenance was benevolent and sensible, and a lady, seemingly some years younger, of an engaging appearance. Harry liked his first look at both, and Lucy liked their first look at him. He studied them, as he stood beside his mother's chair. He perceived that she and his father liked them; that they certainly were not new acquaintances, more like old friends. Aiding his remarks on physiognomy by listening to the conversation, he presently discovered, that Rupert's Cottage, and all that it contained, of furniture at least, belonged to them; that they were the persons who had promised the use of their library; and that the performance of this promise had been delayed by their absence from home, and by a hou ekeeper's mistake about a key. The library, however, was now open, and books and every thing

at Digby Castle was at their service. At last the lady's name came out, Lady Digby; and the gentleman's, Sir Rupert Digby.

"Now," thought Lucy, "I know why this is called Rupert's Cottage."

Something was said about the pleasure of a former meeting last summer, and Lucy then whispered to Harry,

"These are the nice shipwreck people, I do believe."

"Nice shipwrecked people! Where were they shipwrecked?" said Harry," on this coast?"

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No, no, not that I know of; I only mean they were the morning visitors the day of the puddle and pump, who told the story of the shipwreck," said Lucy.

Harry understood by this time what she meant; and much did they both wish that something would turn the conversation to shipwrecks; but though they got to the sea, it was only for sea-bathing; never farther than to a bathinghouse. Then Sir Rupert and their father began to talk of public affairs: no chance of shipwrecks! Unexpectedly, Sir Rupert turned to Harry, and, in his mild manner, said,

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I am sure you must wish us away." "No, sir, I do not," said Harry. "Indeed!" said Sir Rupert, smiling.

"I did, when I first heard the sound of your

carriage," said Harry;

seen you."

but not since I have

"And I know why you wished us away, when you heard the first sound of our wheels," said Sir Rupert. "I heard something of a little bridge, which your mother was going out to see, just as we came in. Why should not we all go to look at it? Pray take us with you: I am interested about it for our own sake, you know. should stand through the winter, as I hope it will, next summer, when we come to this cottage for sea-bathing, Lady Digby and I may profit by the mother's bridge; you see I know its name already."

If it

Lady Digby rose immediately to second Sir Rupert's proposal. While Lucy went for her mother's bonnet and shawl, Harry ran on before, to set up a red flag, which she had made for him, in its destined place, at the right-hand side of the bridge. Knowing what her brother was gone to do, and anxious that he should have time to accomplish his purpose, she rejoiced at every littledelay that occurred on their walk. She was glad when her mother stood still to look at the flapping flight of a startled sea-bird; glad when Lady Digby stopped to admire the growth of her favourite myrtle; glad when Sir Rupert slackened his pace, to tell the history of a weeping-birch tree, which he had planted when he was a boy.