a foot and ancle to swear by, the most silvery
toned voice I almost ever heard, and a certain witchery and archness of
manner that by its very tantalizing uncertainty continually provoked
attention, and by suggesting a difficulty in the road to success,
imparted a more than common zest in the pursuit. She was little, a very
little blue, rather a dabbler in the "ologies," than a real disciple.
Yet she made collections of minerals, and brown beetles, and
cryptogamias, and various other homeopathic doses of the creation,
infinitessimally small in their subdivision; in none of which I felt any
interest, save in the excuse they gave for accompanying her in her
pony-phaeton. This was, however, a rare pleasure, for every morning for
at least three or four hours I was obliged to sit opposite the colonel,
engaged in the compilation of that narrative of his "res gestae," which
was to eclipse the career of Napoleon and leave Wellington's laurels but
a very faded lustre in comparison. In this agreeable occupation did I
pass the greater part of my day, listening to the insufferable prolixity
of the most prolix of colonels, and at times, notwithstanding the
propinquity of relationship which awaited us, almost regretting that he
was not blown up in any of the numerous explosions his memoir abounded
with. I may here mention, that while my literary labour was thus
progressing, the young lady continued her avocations as before--not
indeed with me for her companion--but Waller; for Colonel Kamworth,
"having remarked the steadiness and propriety of my man, felt no scruple
in sending him out to drive Miss Kamworth," particularly as I gave him a
most excellent character for every virtue under heaven.

I must hasten on.--The last evening of my four weeks was drawing to a
close. Colonel Kamworth had pressed me to prolong my visit, and I only
waited for Waller's return from Cheltenham, whither I had sent him for my
letters, to make arrangements with him to absolve me from my ridiculous
bond, and accept the invitation. We were sitting round the library fire,
the colonel, as usual, narrating his early deeds and hair-breadth
'scapes. Mary, embroidering an indescribable something, which every
evening made its appearance but seemed never to advance, was rather in
better spirits than usual, at the same time her manner was nervous and
uncertain; and I could perceive by her frequent absence of mind, that her
thoughts were not as much occupied by