CHAP. I.

I know, in these very practical days, it doesn't do to talk much about romances; but when I write "The Romance of Pilkington," I mean the great truth, the moralizing reality, the romance of Pilkington.

In the first place, to prove to you how peculiarly unlike usual romances is this "Romance of Pilkington," I may state that the heroine was certainly one of the heartiest girls alive. To see her chattering to, and flicking, the happy Cob, was delightful: and-ah! no scandal, for Cob was a very spirited horse only. It was a sight to see Winny coming down a green lane, the sunlight dashing through the trees, and embroidering her and Cob with shadow, and her eyes sparkling away like-like-oh, like eyes, below her hat, which was of green plush, with a black feather sweeping about her neck like a caress. Also, too, in the band of this hat were four roses, with plenty of leaves. Herriding-habit was green, too; and Cob (the horse) was singularly white, with the exception of his left eye, which was charmingly black. Altogether, if this animal could have disposed of that will of his own, and have acquired a little sobriety-to say nothing of a tail-he would have been an admirable animal: but, as Winny herself said, one could not find a good-tempered, love-sick cousin to give you cobs every day, nor a Cob who could do anything, from a gate to playfully rolling on his back and gyrating in jerks.

As Winny told Cousin Jack before he went away in the "Nemesis," and despair, to New Zealand, it is no use, those tomboy-girls never will marry their masters-and she was not a master over six feet and a chest in proportion. Indeed, if the reader has had an extended field of observation, he will have found that very nearly all dashing girls marry quiet little men. As for the young clergy, be sure wherever you find a particularly brisk clergyman's wife, that dasher," as I have heard the race called. Indeed, I think this is natural; for young ladies who love to speak out will naturally have a decided objection to chanter small all through their married life; hence they choose those meek little gentlemen at whom the meek little ladies refuse to look; and hence

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the universal balance is proved, and hence little gentlemen are not all of them mere sighing bachelors. However, this is deserting Winny to dive into the wilds of metaphysics-which are not so pleasant as was Winny guiding Cob along the green shadowy lane.

Suddenly Dot, who was too insignificant an animal of a dog to need a solemn introductionsuddenly Dot, as the top of the green lane was nearly reached-suddenly that lowest type of caninism rushed forward along the lane, as though tantalized with an inimical leg, tore round the corner in a tangle, and then came back again; while his tail flew up like a quivering note of ridiculous interrogation.

all the brown curls till they look like a cascade. "It's the man," said Winny; and she shakes Ah! that reminds me, I have not described Winny-well, well: rather tallish, and rather stoutish, and as brown as you will-such brown hair, such masses of brown hair as made people Why, old Mrs. Pangles heard her laugh, though declare nature too partial! And the laugh? in a back-room in a (so to speak) back street, when she refused the jolly squire, as she sat her. People wondered what it all meant, when upon Cob's back and the squire rode beside they saw Joliffe stoop towards her, marked him speak, heard her burst out laughing, and noted Joliffe ride off as though charging an army or

so of the French nation.

As for Winny, she slipped off Cob, who had naturally fixed himself rigid as Joliffe's horse sped forward, his four legs like four perverse posts--I say she slipped off Cob's back, laughed all the way into the pastrycook's, and at last coming to, bought a cargo of sweets for various children, stepped up to Cob, gave the boy, who was needlessly holding that immovable quadruped, a fourpenny-bit and a pat on the head, made herself comfortable on the saddle, galloped home, and never said a word about it till Joliffe's own horrid threats and behaviour brought about a revelation which was ended by Winny kissing the little widow, her mamma,

F

But really this is too bad! That declaration and that rejection had taken place full three months before the especial day when she was trotting along on Cob, through the shady lane, in her green hat and red roses, and when Dot scampered back for instructions.

"It's the man!" said Winny, in a tone of conviction, and dashed into a canter, which soon took her out of the lane on to the dusty road. And here was the picture:-A middle-sized, slimmish gentleman, black-haired, was smiling good-humouredly at "Bill" from the village inn, who was trying, on the principle of endeavouring to force one quart into a pint-pot, to get three boxes and a parrot's cage into the chaise. The very coach (for we are a little behind railways) was quite still, watching the attempt breathlessly, and one gentleman in the hinder part of the "Highflyer" was heard to say, “ Ding me, Willy, thee'rt a feul!"

Then the coach went on, the driver angularly touching his hat as Cob and Winny cantered past.

"I think you'd better let me take that parrot," said Winny; "don't you, Willy?"

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Wa-a-a-ll, miss;" said Willy, performing a slight fantasia on a forelock of his which hung down ready.

"Yes, all right; good morning, sir." And up she hoisted the brass-cage, round wheeled Cob, and away she went down the green lane again, like a female marauder who had been successful.

"Pray who is that extraordinary young woman?" said the middle-sized, slimmish gentleman, who, by-the-bye, had very sad eyes, as though they were perpetually reproaching a wicked world.

But then it may be urged that it was not polite for Winny to go up the green lane at all. Putting aside the proposition that Winny might ride just where she liked, I prefer to go into explanations. The truth is that this young lacy was as heartily charitable as any in Pilkington. She was the old minister's aide-decamp, and was brisker than all aides-de-camp who have lived in this world. Did this old party have the "roomatics woeful," it was Miss Winny who managed the supply of flannel. Did that antique loudly complain of the parish tea, down came Miss Winny with a packet. And as for justice! why, the next morning after Twiller, the smith, turned the wife of his bed and board out into the back-yard at midnight, Miss Winny rode that industrial down by means of Cob, drove him up against the wall, and hit him once over his shoulders with her whip: then all of a sudden she was frank, read him a lecture, and made him say something like a speech to that ill-used wife of his, who could not have been more surprised if her "good " had walked in on his very bullet-head! Truth to tell, Miss Winny was the pet of everybody and everything. Men, women, and children especially, loved her; and she was one of those enviable creatures whom animals court. She only had to call gently to a horse, donkey, or cow, and up came the animal-slowly and doubtfully, but he or she came. Whereas some of those I address might "call" a mere donkey for twelve months, and that donkey should present nothing but his hind-legs.

man

It was a queer thing, too, to see the way in which the people spoke to her. It was very kindly, and they said "miss ;" and yet they could not have been freer with an equal. And she had pretty apt words for everybody; always cheery, chatty, frank, little sentences, which begat fa

"Indeed!" said the gentleman; and by this time the three boxes, having yielded themselves to circumstances, into the inn-chaise got Willy and the gentleman, and the machine was jangled into the green lane too.

Now I know very well that a young lady, who not only rides up a green lane to have the first view of a stranger, but actually turns herself into a light porter to that gentleman's ugly old parrot and cage, is very liable to be looked upon as a very improper person: but pray, now, inquire into the particulars. In the first place she had no more idea of reining up Cob, as that animal came cantering out of the green lane, than she had of asking the stranger to dance. But when she saw the predicament of that cage, the parrot inside screaming in C alt. all the time, she impulsively pulled up Cob and offered the accommodation and indeed, truth to tell, as she came back through the green lane she was rather rueful, for whatever would people sayand people certainly do "say" in small towns: it is about all the social observance they have to

being such an important body in our town, and being so kind a help to the old minister, it was but natural she should be desirous of knowing what his successor was like-for the old perpetual curate was noble enough to be about to yield his pulpit and his small revenues to a new comer-a young man, highly recommended, and all that could be wished. But the old minister showing immense agitation as the time for the arrival of the coach on the high-road began to draw near, why Miss Winny, who was near him, and with an indefinite desire to comfort her "old love" (as she irreverently called him), said she would go and accidentally look at him.

Hence you have the why and the wherefore of the shadowy lane, Cob, the green habit, and the green hat; and all that remains to be accounted for is the "pink roses"-to which I say, "ah! But it may be stated, that a little after she had acquired the parrot they fell on to the road.

"Wait a moment !" said the new arrival a few moments after, as he and Willy were coming on in the chaise-"wait a moment while I get