refined and fashionable society; her sentiments fresh and artless enough for a Swiss mountain girl, or a native of our own bright West.

She received us with frank cordiality, and with scarcely a reference to the scene of confusion in which we found her, though the bench on which she was sitting formed a tolerably fair specimen of the whole temporary arrangement. A small writing-table, with implements of bronze and silver, stood in a corner, and a handsome arm-chair was wheeled round for me, contrasting oddly enough with the bare floor and the paper-shaded windows. But the lady did not need the appliances which are all in all to the mere fashionable.

She was one in whose company one forgets chairs and tables. She was not so unwise, however, as to disdain the aid of dress, and, though surrounded by coarse objects, she herself was critically nice and lady-like in her appointments; and she seemed, with her bright smiles and her animated manner, to irradiate that rude cottage parlor.

Her table too-I dwell on these things partly because Mrs. Sibthorpe belonged to a much calumniated class of women, who, because they wear blue stockings occasionally, are supposed not to know how to wear any other, and partly because I do love to talk about Mrs. Sibthorpe, the table was laid with English precision; and although the fare was plain enough, it was perfectly well served.

Indeed, if I ever envied any body an earthly possession, I certainly envied the Sibthorpes the three or four English servants who moved like clockwork through their several duties, in spite of the discouraging aspect of things around them. Something that looked very much like a carpenter's bench served as a side table, but it was covered with delicate damask, and the sober-looking attendant used it as gravely as if it had been mahogany or marble.

This

The lady herself had evidently never yet known any of the solicitudes of an American housekeeper in the country. Her whole heart was in the conversation, and the conversation was as far as possible from all reference to those commonplace affairs which fill the souls of so many of us. was perhaps the more noticeable and enviable to me, because I am-habitually if not naturallyone whóm cares devour, and who finds in the minute attention required by the impossibility of being well served in the woods, a dead weight forever counterbalancing the pleasure to be derived from the most interesting or brilliant conversation. This is a weakness, I know, but it finds some apology in the weakness of others. Who cannot recollect, among his friends or visitors, some one who is made utterly uncomfortable by the least deficiency in the ménage? Such people abound in the United States as well as elsewhere, - people in whom "a taste for physical well-being,"

as De Tocqueville defines the foible, taken the place of all other tastes.

has almost

To entertain

such people, in this country, with only home-bred domestics, is a very trying pleasure indeed. Small philosophy becomes very necessary on both sides.

When Mr. and Mrs. Sibthorpe returned our visit, they had experienced some difficulties in consequence of the marriage of one of the maids with an excellent man-servant who had been Mr. Sibthorpe's factotum, and who now bought land with his wages, and assumed the position of country neighbor instead of that of faithful domestic. However, as the newly-married couple were living quite near them, they still had the benefit of their occasional services, and were in the mean time making diligent inquiry after others, who might at least be trained to fill their places. Mrs. Sibthorpe was in fine spirits, boasting that she had learned to make bread, and was even taking lessons in making butter; and declaring that she really believed the best thing that could happen to her would be the desertion of all her servants in time, in order that the domestic employments which she felt to be so rational and so healthful, might become compulsory, at least long enough to oblige her to obtain an insight into their mysteries.

It was delightful to see her taking her inoculation thus kindly, and we found her gaiety and goodhumor more charming than ever.

The next time we visited Newton Grange we

found its bright-eyed mistress with her sleeves turned up, making an attempt at a pie. The only maid who still remained with her was prostrate with ague, and Mr. Sibthorpe himself had experienced a shake or two, and sat in the corner of the great kitchen fireplace, looking doleful, to be sure. The account of things was now somewhat shaded. The bright tints which had been cast upon the manufacture of bread and butter were dimmed a little. Mrs. Sibthorpe had laid aside her rings, and left the papillotes in her ringlets. A dress scarcely suited to woodland kitchening was defended by an apron borrowed from the maid. This said maid, a devoted and excellent creature, had her little bed in a corner of the kitchen, with the double view of making the care of her chill days less laborious, and of aiding her mistress in the household duties, by suggestions, and hints, and cautions, which were delivered with most amusing apologies, and ceaseless regrets that such business should fall into such hands. "O ma'am,- if you please—the kettle is boiling over! dear me! if I could but lift it off myself! This hager is the hoddest thing! yesterday I was quite stout-oh, please, ma'am,

- don't scald yourself! - O ma'am! I beg your pardon-but the nasty pig is come in at the door, and has got at master's gruel!"

Mrs. Sibthorpe's spirits were almost as good as ever, and she found amusement in all the vexatious crosses of her present lot. Her husband was far

more disturbed. He could not bear to see the exertions and sacrifices made by his wife, while he, only half sick, but quite useless, sat looking on, "a sad and silent cipher."

And all this time no assistance to be procured in any department. Ague is very impartial in its visits, and often puts an entire neighborhood down at once, so that it not unfrequently occurs that there are not enough able persons in a whole district to attend properly to the sick.

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