Sunday in summertime among the hills is not like other days of the week, and it is not like the Sundays given to less favoured scenes. It is free from the smothering sense of restraints experienced in cities, shut up as it were for the day, with their inhabitants paraded through the streets in solemn raiment returning home to depressing lunches and drowsy afternoons. It seems rather to foreshadow that bright eternal Sabbath we looked forward to in childhood, ere faith grew dim-sighted or criticism had been heard of,--that day when every act shall be spontaneously holy, and each sacred observance a delight. The glorious sunshine, the bright breezy sky streaked and dappled with shining white clouds, the crimson moors and the all-pervading scent of the heather, the hum of bees and the chirp of grasshoppers in the herbage, a silence that is musical with faint and distant sounds, burns babbling in the hollows, lambs bleating on the braes, all speak to the spirit of perfect peace and freedom and holy gladness. The Sangster family preferred walking to church that morning. It was a long walk, but they set forth in good time and the phaeton would bring them home. It was with some misgiving lest she was yielding to the allurements of sense, that Mrs. Sangster consented to gratify this desire of the young people, but prudential considerations seemed to recommend the arrangement. Sophia could have no better opportunity for free and friendly talk with Mr. Wallowby, and Peter could walk with Mary Brown. Mary had two or three thousand pounds, and was a 'nice girl,' and should his lordship Peter, so incline, would not be an unsuitable connection. Peter's private idea was not unlike his mother's, indeed their views in secular matters were wonderfully alike, and each could count on the support of the other without the unpleasant feeling of conspiracy, which comes of putting schemes into words, when they are apt to confront one so strangely and stare one out of countenance. He was therefore the earliest in the hall and stood hatted and gloved, ready to step forward so soon as his intended companion should issue from her room. 'What brings that fool Wallowby, in such a hurry?' he thought to himself, as the latter appeared shortly after him, also equipped for the walk But the 'fool Wallowby' had his own plans. He too was minded to cross the moorland with 'that jolly Brown girl,' as he called her to himself, rather than with the other 'stick' who had so little to say for herself. 'I think we have got ready too soon,' said Peter; 'the ladies will not come down stairs for twenty minutes at least, they take so long to dress,' and he moved as if for the door. 'One expects to have to wait,' replied Wallowby, and he stood his ground.