been talked of, that mamma did not really love her. I could not understand this sudden change of tone; for I had not then learned that interest or convenience often subdues one's liking or disliking, for a time. However, now that I clearly understood what the word Aunt meant, I felt that it was very wicked indeed to hate so near a relation; and my

childish conscience was eager to throw off the sin.

"Oh, mamma! why did you not tell me before? You always used to say that Aunt Margaret was a cross old maid, and you would send me to her if I was a naughty boy. If you had told me that she was kind and good, mamma, I should never have thought of hating her. I'm sure I thought you hated her too, mamma."

"How you talk, my child! It is wicked to hate any one, my dear. Of course I like your aunt;—and you will be sure to like her when you go to Carleton Castle."

"What! does Aunt Margaret live in a castle-a real castle ?"

"Yes, Frank. Such a fine, grand, beautiful castle!"

How my young imagination warmed at the idea! Then I was actually going to see, to live in a castle;—a castle, with a moat and a drawbridge, perhaps; and even dungeons! Of course it would be like the castles I had read of in storybooks. I questioned mamma eagerly on these and many other points; but she had never been to Carleton, and knew nothing but that there were a village and a large park and a castle all called by that name; that the castle was old and large, and stood on a hill; and that from one of the towers five counties could be seen. All this sounded quite marvellous in my ears;-it seemed too good to be true. It did not occur to me to ask how Aunt Margaret came to live there; but I asked almost every other question on the subject, as I stood beside mamma, with wide-open eyes and flushed cheek. At length she began to fear I should work myself into a fever, and forbade my asking any more questions at that time. She carried me up to the nursery, and laid me down on my little bed, and felt my pulse anxiously. "May I say just one more thing, mamma? and then I will try to go to sleep, indeed."

"Well, just one, my darling; only speak in a whisper." "How is it that Aunt Margaret lives in a castle? I thought only barons and their wives lived in castles. Now, Aunt Margaret is not a baron's wife, I know; for she is an old maid. The castle at Carleton is not her own, is it?"

"No, my darling. The castle belongs to Lord and Lady Carleton. But Aunt Margaret always lives there now, and takes care of everything. She is what is called the housekeeper."

"Oh, very well. Thank you, dear mamma," said I, putting my head down on the pillow;- then, starting up again, I put my arms round her neck, and said, "How soon shall I go to Carleton Castle? To-morrow do you think?"

"Oh dear no.

Not to-morrow, nor the next day, nor the day after that." And seeing me greatly agitated, she added softly, "If you do not keep quiet, Frank, and go to sleep, you will be ill again, and then you will not be able to go to Carleton Castle at all." This sobered me effectually; and I lay down and remained quite still. I soon fell asleep, and dreamed a long, happy dream about being in a castle, and walking through galleries, and spacious chambers, and halls, and wandering in woods and gardens. And there was a kind, curiously-dressed old woman, with a high cap and a great bunch of keys at her side, who showed me many fine things,— that was Aunt Margaret, I thought. I liked her in my dream, and when I woke I wondered whether she would be like that. I rather hoped she would.

CHAPTER II.

MY FIRST JOURNEY.

Most children shrink from the thought of going from home for the first time. I did not, simply because my imagination was fully occupied with beautiful and glorious visions of the place I was going to. And when the evening before my departure for Carleton Castle arrived, I was in a state of eager

anticipation. This visit was to be the first occasion on which I should sleep away from home, and I could not calmly entertain the notion that on the following night I should go to bed in a castle, perhaps in a bed with hangings of old tapestry more than a hundred years old!" That was my ne plus ultra of antiquity in those days.

I was more than usually quiet that last night at home; my curiosity about the things of the morrow was so intense. My mother and Sarah supposed I was melancholy at the thought of leaving home, and tried to console me with the information that I should not stay away very long. I said nothing, but went on dreaming about the place I was going to. I can't say I had any strong regret about leaving home, or mamma, or my nurse and playmates-I believed that I should return to them very soon.

It was on a fine morning, early in the month of May, that my father took me on this my first visit. I was dressed and had eaten my bread and milk by six o'clock in the morning; and, though I wanted very much to run up and down stairs, and talk to papa and mamma, and see the boxes in the hall, and look out for the coach which was to call for us at seven, yet Sarah would make me lie down again; for, she said, I was "going to travel more than a hundred miles, and should be dead tired" before the end of the day. A hundred miles seemed to me, then, a more than world-wide distance-more than

"From the centre thrice to the utmost pole;"

and I lay passively musing upon such immensity, till mamma came to take me down stairs. In a few minutes the stage coach with four horses drove briskly up to our door. I was delighted beyond measure, and in a great hurry to bid everybody "good-bye," and get up to the top of the coach. I remember mamma said, with tears in her eyes,→

"Oh, Frank, my darling, I do really believe you are not at all sorry at going away from your own mother!"

"Oh, mamma, mamma, don't say so now, or I shall begin to cry. It makes me so miserable to hear you speak such

things. I love you very much,-indeed I do,-but-butOh, I say! Look there, mamma! He's going to blow the horn, I do believe. I wish you were going too, mamma."

"Now then, young master, up with you," said the guard, snatching me from the ground. My mother, however, would kiss me once more, and as I saw that her tears were streaming fast, I also began to cry; but I tried very hard to conceal the fact. When I was fairly seated on the top of the coach, and looked down for mamma, she was no longer to be seen, but I guessed that she was standing inside the hall, so I bawled out, "Don't cry, mamma!" She came back to the door at the sound of my voice, and nodded and smiled through her tears. Then I lost sight of papa and mamma both for a minute; after which papa came out briskly, and climbed up to his place beside me. The guard called out, "All right!" the coachman touched the leaders gently with the whip, the coach dashed off along the road; my father's arm was round me, and he pressed me to him affectionately.

"Now, my boy, here we are, going off to Carleton Castle. You are to get quite well there, you know, and come home a strong little man to mamma.”

I could make no answer, for I was busily engaged in swallowing my tears. I was ashamed to be seen crying; it was "just like a girl," my brother Tom would have said. He never cried when he went to school.

At length I was able to ask questions about the places we were going through; and my heart had already shaken off its sorrow by the time the coach stopped for breakfast, at ten o'clock.

I shall not enter into the particulars of this my first journey, although I remember every circumstance connected with it, and could give fac-similes of the persons of all the outside passengers, and a fair report of their conversation. It was five o'clock in the evening when we stopped at the town of P—. I was lifted down, very tired and sleepy. The coachman was paid; the coach changed horses and then drove away. We went into the inn, and I heard my father order

"Some refreshments directly, and a post-chaise, in half an hour on to Carleton."

I was too tired to ask any questions then, and fell asleep while my father was eating, after he had in vain tried to persuade me to eat. When I woke up again, I found myself inside a carriage, with my father's arm supporting me, and my head on his breast. The carriage had windows in front, and I could see a man in a dirty light-blue jacket, riding on one of the horses. Then I knew we were in the post-chaise, and on our way to Carleton Castle. This thought woke me effectually; and I began to sit up, and talk, and look out of the window. At last we came to the village of Carleton. It seemed to me the prettiest place in the world. The cottages were thatched, and most of them were very neat, with wellstocked little gardens; and the church was all overgrown with ivy. After driving through the village, the road began to ascend, and we went on more slowly.

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Papa," said I, "why do people call Aunt Margaret an old maid? What is an old maid ?"

"A lady who has never been married."

"Then is Lucy an old maid ?" (Lucy was my sister, aged twelve, then at school.)

"Lucy is not an old maid yet, my boy; she is a young one; but she may be an old maid."

"I hope she will not!" said I, vehemently. "I do not like old maids. Sarah says they are always ill-tempered and selfish."

"Sarah is mistaken, Frank. One of the best-tempered and least selfish persons I know is an old maid; and that is the lady who is going to take care of you, and make you happy -your Aunt Margaret."

"I wish she were not an old maid, though," I exclaimed, after a pause, during which I had tried to divest my mind of all the common-places I had been accustomed to hear about the class. 'Why does she not have a husband, like mamma, and Mrs. Collins, and Mrs. Forbes? Could she not get one if she were to try ?"

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