together, and made us take great delight
in one another that day. The words of
each song had a new meaning. Then I did
not fully know who the kind interpreter was;
now I do know, and he has since made a
translation of my whole life, turning the dark
into the bright, the bitter into the sweet, the
miserable into the happy, the silent into the
chatty, the lonely into the sociable— in fine,
the bachelor into the Benedict.

This small and ubiquitous dragoman was
particularly busy as we were singing
Mendelssohn's Winter, surly Winter. I felt
deeply the melancholy feelings intended to
be conveyed by the first part, which is in a
minor key— I was minimus; but, when the
words Summer, joyous Summer, burst forth
in the major, I was maximus. I was something
beyond maximus when we came to,
Beside her daily I stray, And I press her
close to my heart.

"We were ranged on the lawn in our usual
order— Mr. Batten before us. I have heard
since, that Captain Coppercap, R.N., was all
the time making a caricature of us, which he
did in his best style. There was Smith of
the Admiralty, who looked as if he were a
disconsolate widower trying to cry. There
was Robinson, too; he wrote a celebrated
pamphlet on the currency (it was very
kind of him to send me a copy, and I mean
to read it). He has a way while he is
singing, of staring up at the roof or the sky,
as if he were looking out for an eclipse.
There were three others, all of whom have
contracted a habit of jerking out their heads
at each note, not unlike hens pecking at a
grain. These were represented with fatal
fidelity. Coppercap caught also the expression
of my face just as I was standing with
my head somewhat aside, gazing
sentimentally at Sophy.

What a delightful afternoon that was!
Most especially delightful towards its close,
when I won from the lips of Sophy herself
the tenderest of all avowals in the
sweetest of all tones. The magnificent cold
collation, during which Jones proposed the
health of the tenors, and I answered in a
manner which drew applause from
everybody— tears of sympathy from some; the
archery, all but fatal to a stout gentleman
fishing from a punt in the middle of the
river. Smith has always been suspected of
having shot the poor man on purpose: as he is
only one step above Smith at the naval
department of the Circumlocution Office.
All faded from my memory— wholly concentrated
on one blessed moment, a few precious
words.

Our return home was by moonlight.
Calcott's Mark the Merry Elves of Fairyland,
was a signal success. To me everything
breathed enchantment. The moonlit river,
the dark trees, the murmur of the distant
weir, the measured plash which marked
our progress, the light drip of the suspended
oar— nay, the appearance of a deputation
from the elves in any impossible bark, from
a nutshell to a leaf of the Victoria regia,
would not have astonished me at all— nor
did I astonish Mrs. Lute (what a mother-in-law
she makes!) the next morning when I
spoke to her about Sophy. She had seen it
all from the beginning, and was sure that we
were well suited to each other.

Our wedding was the most splendid that
had been seen in the neighbourhood for many
a day. The breakfast was unique. The
whole Hullah class attended— Mr. Batten,
also gave us the pleasure of his company,
and conducted us to church.

My dear wife and myself still continue
members of that admirable conductor's class,
and find that our love for music increases
steadily with our love for each other. It was
only last week that Yawhaw, of the twentieth
Dragoon Guards, to whom I had lent, in a
moment of unsuspicious friendship, five pounds,
repudiated the debt in the most audacious
manner. I was very angry at first; but, on.
my return to Tottleton in the evening, Sophy
asked Smith, Barker, Matilda Long, and
May Burgoyne— and after two catches and a
madrigal, I utterly forgot the existence of
Yawhaw, the twentieth, and that such things
as five-pound notes ever existed.

What can I recommend better to the inhabitants
of small towns and villages in general,
than a Hullah singing class. Although the case
of the Parish of Twiddledum versus the Rector
is very important in the eyes of the world;
although the present beadle of Hoggleton-cum-Poggleton
is an outrageous despot;
although the curate of Talkum Parva does
take snuff; although Mrs. Fitz Urse de
Courcy Vernon de Vere is much to be blamed
for being the daughter of Sir Augustus de
Tadpole, while Mrs. Figgins is still more to
be blamed as the daughter of old Bugginson—
although all these matters ought to worry all
our lives and make us all hate one another—
I wish that a Hullah class were established in
each of these great centres of thought and
intelligence; for, peace and harmony are
heavenly gifts.

         JEMIMA COURT-HOUSE.

IN Virginia, where I am, some of the
counties into which the state is divided are
called by the first names of females. I am
in Jemima county, and am on my way to
Jemima Court-House. I have been in
Jemima one hour and a half precisely, during
which time I have made the acquaintance of
the chief-man, an ex-congressman (of the
county), of the proprietor of the iron-works
only sixteen miles off from the ex-congressman's,
of two farmers— who I suppose are
called so by courtesy; they doing nothing,
and there being nothing to farm, living only
ten miles off again— and of the gentleman of