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Widget, thus forcibly appealed to, flung his arms wildly and helplessly about, made several starts, and was finally brought to by Rosa herself, who perceiving the turn affairs were taking, by a violent effort composed herself, and running after him, just as he was getting under weigh at an alarming rate, speedily overtook and tapped him on the back, a bright thought struck her—

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Whibby, Whibby, only look at your green tie all loose-it will certainly be lost if you do not take care.”

This was a master stroke, and Widget's attention was immediately arrested; while he was fumbling in the region of his neck to remedy the fabulous disaster, Buggins came up panting

"I declare, Rosa, you seem to fly over the ground; I should be sorry to run a race with you; have you recovered by this time? You are a strange girl."

Widget threw himself into an attitude of admiration, and extatically rehearsed the lines

"E'en the light harebell raised its head
Elastic, 'neath her fairy tread."

Looking at Rosa with such a speaking expression of countenance, that the good-natured girl could not forbear telling him how gallant he was, and that it afforded her much pleasure to see how completely he had recovered.

"Yes, yes; it's all very fine, Mr. Ferguson," commenced Whibby, changing from adoration to expostulation, "but we don't lodge here, I suppose; now what is to be done. Did you ever see such a state of things?

"Do," said Rosa, "why I suppose we must just walk on to Eastbourne, since we have missed the train-it will be much more pleasant than riding."

Buggins and Whibby looked at her with about the same astonishment that you, dear reader, would bestow on Joan of Arc, if she suddenly appeared before you in panoply complete!

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Well, suppose we were to return to the inn and consult the landlady, and see how far Eastbourne really is from here, and which is the nearest road. I don't see why we shouldn't walk on; it's a beautiful day, only it's rather warm. The five o'clock train can bring our luggage; at any rate it's of no use remaining here."

Whibby and Buggins did not much admire the necessity of again facing the landlady under such ludicrous circumstances; but there was no help for it, and so they gently walked back again,

We won't describe the scene that followed; in fact, we have a painful consciousness that we have attended already far too much

to detail for our reader's patience, let it suffice to mention that Whibby declared to the landlady his private opinion that she was the very slowest coach he ever set eyes on, and, as for her confounded clock, the sooner it was broken up the better. Buggins, who had some hazy notions of law proceedings, threatened her, in a somewhat mystified and mysterious manner, with suits and appeals, and proceedings, to such an extent, that the final result was the "ejectment" of the whole party, nolens volens, to find their road as they best could, and "good riddance of them," an unwilling consent being given to their luggage being taken care of, and forwarded on to the hotel at Eastbourne, by the five o'clock train.

Behold our travellers, then, once more en route, but this time travelling Irish Tandem, i.e., one foot before the other. The two gentlemen, after a few pros and cons, settled it much to their satisfaction and consolation, that the landlady had purposely set the clock back, in order that they might be compelled to remain there to dinner, and confided to Rosa in confidence their belief that she, the said landlady, was essentially, an ogress, and quite a different sort of creature from Rosa's own darling self!

"See what a knowledge of the world we are getting already," said Rosa, "what adventures, what strange characters we have met with on our travels."

"Oh!" sighed Whibby,-here a cloud of dust came travelling along the road, suggestive of deserts and simooms, with a something black in the middle of it, "Oh! for instance, that detestable fellow in the railway-carriage, who went off in that ungentlemanly manner with my watch, and-bless my life," as the dust resolved itself into a gig with a solitary occupant driving at a furious rate, "that looks very like the travelling cap-just like the official; 'Hollo, there! who are you? Stop! murder! fire! thieves stop him, there! Talk of Old Harry, and his shadow, at least, appears.' Well, I never saw such a resemblance."

The man in the gig had not even troubled himself to turn his head, in reply to the yells that Widget launched after him, and was soon out of sight; but the exclamations had attracted the attention of a woman at the door of a little white cottage, who came to the gate to see what could be the matter, and afforded Rosa an opportunity of inquiring, which of three roads, that branched off in different directions, was the right one to take for Eastbourne. In reply, the information was given that the desired haven was six or seven miles distant, which rather discouraged Buggins, who was not fond of such long walks. Our friends

were moving off with thanks, when some evil genius put it into Widget's head to ask the name of a large red brick building, with a peaked roof, that stood at some distance and could be seen The woman looked towards the place and

through the trees. observed

"Where, Sir ?"

"There, amongst those trees."

"Oh, yes, Sir; I see-where, Sir ?"

"What do you mean? Don't you know what I am pointing at -the building with the red chimnies? Carry your eye," interrupted Buggins, in explanation, "at right angles with that intersecting bush, till you come to a semi-circular lawn, equidistant from-"

"I shan't do any such thing," said the woman, who began to fancy a trick was intended, "there's no circulars or outlandish bushes round the squire's house, I can see without them—though I'm fifty years old I never wanted spectacles; and I can't speak no plainer-where I say?"

Here Whibbleton deliberately pulled the ends of his green tie till it was marvellous that he was not strangled-and turning round to his companions remarked that the mystery only could be explained by the supposition that the red brick house was a branch Bedlam, and the female before them a victim who had lately made her escape—not the only one as he suspected, in these parts.

Rosa enquired who lived at the house in question, and received an immediate answer, "Stunner the Squire"; whereupon Widget cried out, "oh, she's only mad nor-norwest after all, reasonable on some points still-now my good woman, (bending backwards and forwards as if he were a human corkscrew being put to active use,) allow me again to enquire in the blandest and most courteous manner possible, notwithstanding the amount of chaff with which you have favoured me, could you oblige me with the name of that house," making a series of expressive points at it in the proper direction with his arm and hand, and butts at it with his whole body.

"She'll never tell," said Buggins. she don't.

"I'll bet five shillings to one

"Taken!" cried Rosa,- -we are sorry to have to say this, for the prejudice, very wisely, runs against betting young ladies, but there are many excuses for our heroine, and it was not often she did such an improper thing-" Taken! now for it, my good woman what do they call the name of the house at which Mr. Stunner the Squire lives ?"

"Why Miss, they don't call it a house at all, (great exultation on the part of Widget and Buggins,) but a hall, and as for the name I've told you twenty times already surely-did'nt I say Ware as plain as I could speak? hav'nt you heard of Ware Hall the place that once belonged to the great Dr. Ware, said to be the inventor of pickled cabbage ?"

Every one had a hearty laugh here, even the discomfited Robert who had lost his bet, and this little incident served for much conversation that need not be detailed.

Mile after mile of pleasant country lane, and turfy footpath succeeded-rustic gates, and vistas of cattle reposing under the fine old English oaks and rows of stately elms-gleams of the brilliant summer sunshine through the rustling branches which occasionally met overhead, broad tracts of its golden radiance extending along the winding road-Insects buzzing in the warmth, and selecting Whibby as an especial object of attention and now and then a puff of delicious sea-breeze, proclaiming their near approach to the mighty waters!

It was a delightful walk though seven miles; and though it was the climax to a day of disasters, what was that to our three friends for whom the future was bright and smiling as the sunshine, whose movements were as free and unfettered as the wings of the wind, whose hearts were as light as the feathery spray dashed upwards from the waves, whose hopes were as radiant as the glorious west to which their faces were turned. There was no mournfulness then from the past, to overspread like thin clouds their summer sky, no voice of what could never be recalled, speaking sadly from the years that were gone, like a strain of ancient music which still seems to haunt the chamber where it hath once been heard, but where we can never hear it really again. There was no feverish anticipation of the future, like an ignis fatuus ever flying before, ever promising, but ever darkening the surrounding shades of an impracticable present. Sufficient for them were the pleasures and trials of the day in the beautiful season of youth.

And yet, like many of us, they had their salient points, and their ludicrosities, which we have brought out prominently, as the draughtsman sketches in bold relief the tattered sails of his picturesque windmill, or the hanging and clustering mosses on the stones and battlements of his feudal castle.

Thus then our friends proceeded on their way: Widget positively forgetting that there were few, if any, pedestrians to be met with, to admire his green tie, and beautiful drab, speckless, faultless coat. Robert Buggins made more witty speeches in an

hour than we could write down in half a dozen chapters. The fact is, that Rosa put them both in excellent good humour, and endowed them for the nonce with her own rare qualities of a bright gaité de cœur and warm unselfishness; it was a walk to be remembered.

Rosa was repeating the beautiful lines,

"But all too close against my face

My thick breath feels these crowding trees,
They crush me in their green embrace—

I miss the life of seas;

The wild, free life that round the flinty shores

Of my bleak isles expanded ocean pours

So free, so far, that, in the lull of even,

Naught but the rising moon stands on your path to heaven."

when Widget cried out" The sea, the sea at last, the glorious open ocean." There, far on its bosom in the blue mist, were distant sails, so small, so light, that they brought Carthon's ancient words to mind, "They looked towards the sea with fear— the white wave deceeived them for distant sails. The sun rose on the sea and lighted up a fleet-like the mist of ocean they came."

But the fates had still one trial more in store for our somewhat

fatigued friends. It was true they had reached the shores of the sea, but by a circuitous road, and a very long and weary journey was before them, over the yielding beach, ere they could round the headlands and see Eastbourne in reality. Still this toilsome travel was enlivened and exhilarated by the influence of the thousand ministering spirits of the new region, the margin of light yellow sand, the stony barrier of beach possibly studded with agate and cornelian, the masses of tangled sea-weed, the star and jelly fishes, the dash and roar of the crested waves and rattle of the pebbles, the cliff caverns with their pools of sea water, and imprsioned shrimps, all had their part in the scene.

An accident happened too which was fatal to poor Widget's magnificent green tie! perhaps the most keenly felt disaster he had as yet sustained. It had this time in reality come untied, and a sudden gust of wind blew it from his neck into the sea. The exclamations of the whole party were in vain,-in vain did Whibby run desperately into the sea far enough to fill his boots with the salt sea wave, in chase of this nonsuch of a tie and as for Rosa, she administered poor consolation in quietly telling him she was rather glad than otherwise of the occurrence, and that in her opinion, he would look far better in a black neckerchief, which it would give her great pleasure to buy for him at Eastbourne. Of course Widget's horror at this extraordinary speech was undis

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