their superb cold punch. Our philosopher now gave himself up to despair; but before returning to his own warm clime, he sought to discover the reason of his finding the flesh creep, where he had deemed the spirit would soar. He at length came to the conclusion that we are all slaves to the world and to circumstances; and as, with his peculiar belief, he could look on our sacred volume with the eye of a philosopher, felt impressed with the conviction that the history of Babel's tower is but an allegory, which says to the pride of man, "'Thus far shall ye go, and no farther.'" The Brahmin's adventures elicited much amusement. In a short time, Selby was in a hot argument with the French novelist. Every now and then, as the Frenchman answered him, he stirred his negus, and hummed a translation of "I'd be a butterfly." "Erim papilio, Natus in flosculo." Chapter IV. The Postman. "Not in those visions, to the heart displaying Forms which it sighs but to have only dream'd, Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seem'd; Or, having seen thee, shall I vainly seek To paint those charms which, imaged as they beam'd, To such as see thee not, my words were weak; To those who gaze on thee, what language could they speak?" Delmé had long designed some internal improvements in the mansion; and as workmen would necessarily be employed, had proposed that our family party should pass a few weeks at a watering place, until these were completed. They were not without hopes, that George might there join them, as Emily had written to Malta, pressing him to be present at her wedding. We have elsewhere said, that Sir Henry had arrived at middle age, before one feeling incompatible with his ambitious thoughts arose. It was at Leamington this feeling had imperceptibly sprung up; and to Leamington they were now going. Is there an electric chain binding hearts predestined to love? Hath Providence ordained, that on our first interview with that being, framed to meet our wishes and our desires--the rainbow to our cloud, and the sun to our noon-day--hath it ordained that there should also be given us some undefinable token--some unconscious whispering from the heart's inmost spirit? Who may fathom these inscrutable mysteries? Sir Henry had been visiting an old schoolfellow, who had a country seat near Leamington. He was riding homewards, through a sequestered and wooded part of the park, when he was aware of the presence of two ladies, evidently a mother and daughter. They sate on one side of the rude path, on an old prostrate beech tree. The daughter, who was very beautiful, was sketching a piece of fern for a foreground: the mother was looking over the drawing. Neither saw the equestrian.