and great pieces of new cheese to be put in
between the honeyed slices, and so toasted
impromptu. There were two black teapots
on the tray, and taking one of these in her left
hand, and one in her right, our hostess held
them up both on high, and skilfully poured
from each into one and the same cup; the
teapots contained green and black tea; and
this was her way of mixing them, which she
considered far better, she told us, than if both
the leaves had been " masked " together. The
cups of tea were dosed with lump upon lump
of the finest sugar, but the rich yellow fragrant
cream was dropped in but very sparingly. I
reserved many of my inquiries, suggested by
this Dale tea-drinking, to be answered by
Mrs. C., with whom we were lodging: and I
asked her why I could neither get cream
enough for myself, nor milk sufficient for the
children, when both were evidently so
abundant, and our entertainers so profusely
hospitable. She told me, that my request for
each was set down to modesty and a desire
to spare the "grocer's stuff," which, as costing
money, was considered the proper thing to
force upon visitors, while the farm produce
was reckoned too common and every-day for
such a choice festivity and such honoured
guests. So I drank tea as strong as brandy
and as sweet as syrup, and had to moan in
secret over my children's nerves. My children
found something else to moan over before the
meal was ended; the good farmer's wife
would give them each " sweet butter " on their
oat-cake or " clap-bread;" and sweet butter
is made of butter, sugar, and rum melted
together and potted, and is altogether the
most nauseous compound in the shape of a
dainty I ever tasted. My poor children
thought it so, as I could tell by their glistening
piteous eyes and trembling lips, as they vainly
tried to get through what their stomachs
rejected. I got it from them by stealth and
ate it myself, in order to spare the feelings of
our hostess, who, evidently, considered it as
a choice delicacy. But no sooner did she
perceive that they were without sweet butter
than she urged them to take some more, and
bade me not scrimp it, for they had enough
and to spare for everybody. This "sweet
butter " is made for express occasions—the
clippings, and Christmas; and for these two
seasons all christenings in a family are
generally reserved. When we had eaten and
eaten—and, hungry as we were, we found it
difficult to come up to our hostess's ideas of
the duty before us—she took me into the real
working kitchen, to show me the preparations
going on for the refreshment of the seventy
people there and then assembled. Rounds of
beef, hams, fillets of veal, and legs of mutton
bobbed, indiscriminately with plum puddings,
up and down in a great boiler, from which a
steam arose, when she lifted up the lid, reminding
one exceedingly of Camacho's wedding.
The resemblance was increased when we were
shown another boiler out of doors, placed
over a temporary frame-work of brick, and
equally full with the other, if, indeed, not
more so.

Just at this moment—as she and I stood
on the remote side of the farm-buildings,
within sound of all the pleasant noises which
told of merry life so near, and yet out ot
sight of any of them, gazing forth on the
moorland and the rocks, and the purple crest
of the mountain, the opposite base of which
fell into Watendlath—the gate of the yard
was opened, and my rustic beauty came
rushing in, her face all a-fire. When she saw
us she stopped suddenly, and was about to
turn, when she was followed, and the entrance
blocked up by the handsome young shearer.
I saw a knowing look on my companion's
face, as she quietly led me out by another
way.

"Who is that handsome girl?" asked I.

"It's just Isabel Crosthwaite," she
replied. " Her mother is a cousin of my
master's, widow of a statesman near Appleby.
She is well to do, and Isabel is her only
child."

"Heiress, as well as beauty," thought I;
but all I said was,

"And who is the young man with her?"

"That," said she, looking up at me with
surprise. "That's our Tom. You see, his
father and me and Margaret Crosthwaite
have fixed that these young ones are to wed
each other; and Tom is very willing—but
she is young and skittish; but she'll come
to—she'll come to. He'll not be best shearer
this day anyhow, as he was last year down
in Buttermere; but he'll may be come round
for next year."

So spoke middle age of the passionate loves
of the young. I could fancy that Isabel
might resent being so calmly disposed of, and
I did not like or admire her the less because
by and bye she plunged into the very midst
of the circle of matrons, as if in the Eleusinian
circle she could alone obtain a sanctuary
against her lover's pursuit. She looked so
much and so truly annoyed that I disliked
her mother, and thought the young man
unworthy of her, until I saw the mother come
and take into her arms a little orphan child,
whom I learnt she had bought from a beggar
on the road-side that was ill-using her. This
child hung about the woman, and called her
"Mammy " in such pretty trusting tones,
that I became reconciled to the match-making
widow, for the sake of her warm heart; and
as for the young man—the woe-begone face
that he presented from time to time at the
open door, to be scouted and scolded thence
by all the women, while Isabel resolutely
turned her back upon him, and pretended to be
very busy cutting bread and butter, made me
really sorry for him; though we—experienced
spectators—could see the end of all this
coyness and blushing as well as if we were in
church at the wedding.

From four to five o'clock on a summer's