social grounds; his well-stored mind, his powers
of conversation, and his fine appearance, make him extremely welcome at
all the tables in the county; he also accompanies his daughter with the
violin, and, as they play beauties together, not difficulties, they
ravish the soul and interrupt the torture, whose instrument the
piano-forte generally is.

Bartley is a man with beautiful silvery hair and beard; he cultivates,
nurses, and tends fruit-trees and flowers with a love little short of
paternal. This sentiment, and the contemplation of nature, have changed
the whole expression of his face; it is wonderfully benevolent and sweet,
but with a touch of weakness about the lips. Some of the rough fellows
about the place call him a "softy," but that is much too strong a word;
no doubt he is confused in his ideas, but he reads all the great American
publications about fruit and flowers, and executes their instructions
with tact and skill. Where he breaks down--and who would believe
this?--is in the trade department. Let him succeed in growing apple-trees
and pear-trees weighed down to the ground with choice fruit; let him
produce enormous cherries by grafting, and gigantic nectarines upon his
sunny wall, and acres of strawberries too large for the mouth. After that
they may all rot where they grow; he troubles his head no more. This is
more than his old friend Hope can stand; he interferes, and sends the
fruit to market, and fills great casks with superlative cider and perry,
and keeps the account square, with a little help from Mrs. Easton, who
has returned to her old master, and is a firm but kind mother to him.

Grace Clifford for some time could not be got to visit him. Perhaps she
is one of those ladies who can not get over personal violence; he had
handled her roughly, to keep her from going to her father's help. After
all, there may have been other reasons; it is not so easy to penetrate
all the recesses of the female heart. One thing is certain: she would
not go near him for months; but when she did go with her father--and he
had to use all his influence to take her there--the rapture and the
tears of joy with which the poor old fellow received her disarmed her
in a moment.

She let him take her through hot-houses and show her his children--"the
only children I have now," said he--and after that she never refused to
visit this erring man. His roof had sheltered her many years, and he had
found out too late that he