out with the boy that helped; she would have gone herself but she had a cough, and was afraid of the wet. This was an unexpected dilemma. Sir William meditated in silence.

"You have no carriage, Mrs. Browning, I suppose?"

"Bless you, no, sir—only one little tilted cart, which my husband drives to church on Sunday."

"Well and is not that at home—can we not have that? it would do admirably if we could;" cried he, delighted at the idea.

"Certainly, sir, I think I could harness it for you, the horse is at home to-day unluckily—I will go and see about it."

"No, no, my good woman, let me go and see,—I dare say, I can manage the affair without troubling you," said Sir William.

But she assured him her presence was necessary to show him the way, at least; but, if the young lady would be so kind as again to hold the infant, they would soon have every thing right. To this, of course, Emma readily agreed, and she soon, from the thinness of the partition, heard Sir William's voice joking with their hostess about the horse and harness.

In about ten minutes he returned.

"Miss Watson," said he, "your carriage is waiting—are you ready to undertake the expedition under my escort?"

Emma assented; and, after thanking the mother, and kissing the child—a process which Sir William pretended likewise to imitate, she was conducted to the door, and assisted into the neat, little chay-cart by him—and, under his protection, commenced the journey.

"What a charming little scene," cried he, slackening the reins to allow the horse to walk up a long hill; "I wish you would write a pastoral poem descriptive of the little cottage and its inhabitants, Miss Watson."

"And make you the hero of it, of course," replied Emma, "I wish I could, the subject would be decidedly novel and amusing."

"Oh! by all means, make me the hero; introduce me in any way you like, you could not do wrong."

"I should particularly celebrate your great and glorious appetite, and the heroic way in which you attacked the bread and butter," said she.

"Miss Watson, you are growing satirical, I will not trust you; I know you will say something cruel of me, 

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