"And, Mrs. Winter, the gentlemen must not be too _exigeants_," said Miss Vernon, "but be content with what our larders afford; there will be no time for preparation." "Content!" cried I. "Oh! we all know you would rather prefer a few herbs with water from the neighbouring spring," said Miss Vernon archly. A few more words as to the hour of starting and place of rendezvous, which was to be at the Priory, as it was on the road to the Ruins, and we exchanged good nights. What a contrast Sunday at A---- presented to almost every other Sunday I had ever spent. The grey old church, with its exquisitely carved screen and pulpit, black polished oak, its heavy massive pillars, and quaint scanty congregation. How distinguished the Colonel and Miss Vernon looked amongst them! Gilpin's almost inspired strains on the organ, contrasted rather forcibly with the drowsiness of the service, doled out by a little mummy in spectacles, evidently minus several teeth, essential to a clear enunciation. We all sat in Winter's pew, and Miss Araminta Cox was there in a yellow bonnet, the turban, I suppose, done up in a different shape. After church we had an early dinner, luncheon rather, then a stroll along the river, where we found Elijah Bush preaching to a mob of boys and girls; it seemed curious, too, not having any dinner at the regular hour. The old church looked dim and solemn at evening service, its only lights were those partially illuminating the little mummy in his task of deciphering his own hieroglyphics. Then came a social cup of coffee, a parting injunction to be punctual, and we separated for the night. Monday rose clear and bright, a warm sun and cool bracing air. I reached the Priory in good time for their early breakfast, and found Colonel Vernon and his granddaughter in high spirits, the latter looking lovely, her colour heightened by the clear morning air, and her whole countenance beaming with a joyous expression, the reflection of her pure happy heart. Soon after ten o'clock the unwonted sound of carriages in the churchyard announced the arrival of the rest of the party, and we all assembled at the entrance gate to arrange the order of proceeding. Cyclops already showed symptoms of improved feeding, but was as rough and shaggy as ever, as he stood whisking his tail at the flies, and occasionally giving a short cough. The other phaeton was drawn by a tall bony brown horse, that looked as if he had seen better days, and could boast a little blood. The Colonel politely invited Mrs. Winter to accompany him, and Kate most provokingly took her place with Mr. Winter, when some discussion arose in consequence of Winter's protesting he must take his boy to look after Cyclops; this left us minus a seat, but I obviated the difficulty by offering to drive the brown horse, leaving the original Jehu behind, and sharing the driving seat with Gilpin. Kate rewarded me with a bright smile as I handed her into Winter's phaeton.