When we had taken our seats in the temple, Ph[oe]be suddenly cried out, clasping her hands in an ecstacy, "Only look, Lucilla! There is no end to the enchantment. It is all fairy land." On casting our eyes as she directed, we were agreeably surprised with observing a large kind of temporary shed or booth at some distance from us. It was picturesquely fixed near an old spreading oak, and was ingeniously composed of branches of trees, fresh and green. Under the oak stood ranged the village maids. We walked to the spot. The inside of the booth was hung round with caps, aprons, bonnets, handkerchiefs, and other coarse, but neat articles of female dress. On a rustic table was laid a number of Bibles, and specimens of several kinds of coarse works, and little manufactures. The various performances were examined by the company; some presents were given to all. But additional prizes were awarded by the young patronesses, to the best specimens of different work; to the best knitters, the best manufacturers of split straw, and the best performers in plain work, I think they called it. Three grown up young women, neatly dressed, and of modest manners, stood behind. It appeared that one of them had taken such good care of her young sisters and brothers, since their mother's death, and had so prudently managed her father's house, that it had saved him from an imprudent choice. Another had postponed, for many months, a marriage in which her heart was engaged, because she had a paralytic grandmother whom she attended day and night, and whom nothing, not even love itself, could tempt her to desert. Death having now released the aged sufferer, the wedding was to take place next Sunday. The third had, for above a year, worked two hours every day, over and above her set time, and applied the gains to clothe the orphan child of a deceased friend. She was also to accompany her lover to the altar on Sunday, but had made it a condition of her marrying him, that she should be allowed to continue her supernumerary hours' work, for the benefit of the poor orphan. All three had been exemplary in their attendance at church, as well as in their general conduct. The fair patronesses presented each with a handsome Bible, and with a complete, plain, but very neat suit of apparel. While these gifts were distributing, I whispered Sir John that one such ticket as we were each desired to take for Squallini's benefit, would furnish the cottages of these poor girls. "And it _shall_," replied he, with emphasis. "How little a way will that sum go in superfluities, which will make two honest couple happy! How costly is vanity! how cheap is charity!"