Algernon's sloth bore strict proportion to Zorilda's industry, of which he knew how to reap the profit in a manner most congenial to his taste. Certain of having his exercise written, and his translation parsed by the companion of his studies, before she looked at her own task, he gave himself as little trouble as possible; but, aware that the measure of his idleness must continually depend on that of Zoé's diligence and application, he encouraged in her what he neglected in his own instance, and thus was instrumental in assisting Mr. Playfair's benevolent design of storing the mind of the young unknown against the hour of adversity. Whatever was the subject of instruction, Zorilda's intuitive clearness of perception anticipated the labours of her tutor, and she actually learned faster than he could teach; yet vanity was a stranger to her young heart. Conscious of ignorance, while she sought information, it appeared to her nothing extraordinary that she should understand what the wisdom of others supplied: she transferred all honour to her instructor, and as Mr. Playfair had too sincere an interest in the welfare of his pupil to flatter her, our little heroine passed her early spring of life without guessing that her talents exceeded the common faculties of her fellow-creatures. Algernon breathed, on the contrary, an atmosphere of continual praise, with which his injudicious mother endeavoured to stimulate his progress. The two children might be compared to plants, the one of which put forth its sickly bloom in the artificial soil of a hot-bed; while the other, fanned by the breezes, and fertilized by the dews of heaven, flourished in full luxuriance of natural strength and beauty; but as the gardener, who digs, prunes, trains, and waters, is the only person interested in the gradual unfolding of those "leafy honours," which it is enough for the casual visitor to see fully developed, we shall now draw a curtain over the scene of budding hopes; or, if we may be allowed to conclude our present Chapter with another simile, we will dive like the wild sea bird into the ocean of time, on the surface of which we have been slowly sailing, and hiding beneath the billows for a season, start up anew after a temporary submersion. CHAPTER VII. We were as twinned lambs that did frisk i' the sun And bleat the one at the other: what we changed Was innocence for innocence. We knew not The doctrine of ill-doing. No, nor dreamed That any did. WINTER'S TALE. As we are not shackled by those inconvenient unities which fetter the discursive propensities of the dramatist, binding him to time and place, we have been permitted to take a ramble or a doze as our inclinations prompted, and re-assemble at Henbury, after an interval of some years.