AFTER an absence of six weeks, which had appeared as many years, he found himself in sight of the vicarage, and as his chaise ascended the hill, hailed old Maxwell, who blessed him with the intelligence, that Miss Wentbridge was in perfect health; and in a few minutes he was in the vicar’s parlour, and received by the object of his fond attachment, in such a manner as shewed, that his mistress’s love, though less impetuous, was no less ardent than his own. The worthy vicar who, superintending the labours of the opening spring, had, from an adjacent field, beheld his arrival, in a few minutes joined the enchanted couple, and diverted their emotions. During the absence of Hamilton, the vicar had, in an annual visit at the archi-episcopal palace of York, become acquainted with a general officer of distinguished fame, who spoke very highly of the abilities, virtues, and high promises of Hamilton. The testimony of so competent a judge, coinciding with the opinion which he had himself formed, enhanced Wentbridge’s estimation of the merits of his brave young friend; and in the destined husband of his daughter, he fancied he beheld a future commander-in-chief of an army, fighting for his king and country. Mr. Wentbridge, with the expansion of the philosophical scholar, and the liberality of the enlightened gentleman, was not without a professional predilection for forms of little intrinsic importance. He preferred marriage after the more tedious process of publishing the banns, to the expedition a licence, so much more consonant to the eagerness of lovers. As he was extremely tenacious on this subject, the impatience of the gentleman, and perhaps of the lady, was obliged to give way.--To divide the feelings of so very tantalizing a situation, the judicious clergyman promoted parties and amusements. One of these was a visit to Doncaster, to be present at a ball. Among the company there came, in the party of the mayoress, two ladies, the one old and the other young, both remarkable for the supercilious sourness of their countenances, which, though not entirely ugly, were extremely disagreeable. The old one, naturally short, appeared still more abridged by a habit of stooping, arising chiefly from the eager anxiety with which she bent herself in company to listen to what was going forward, especially if there was any appearance of whispering; and as she had of late become a little deaf, greater efforts were necessary: so that, next to the acidity which we have before remarked, the chief expression of her visage was the straining of curiosity not altogether gratified.--The young one, though not much sweeter than the other in the natural cast of her visage, tried to make up that deficiency by industry, and where a young man to her mind made his appearance, she smiled, and simpered, and lisped, but all could not conceal the groundwork. On these occasions she succeeded no better than children who, attempting to lessen the