Be still, beating heart! as the heroines of Minerva-press romances were accustomed to say to themselves on the smallest provocation.

Be still, foolish, fluttering, schoolboy heart, which has taken a new lease of youth and folly from a fair landlord called Charlotte Halliday.
Drip, drip, drip, O rain! "The day is dark and cold and dreary, and the vine still clings to the mouldering wall; and with every gust the dead leaves fall:" but thy sweet sad verse wakes no responsive echo in my heart, O tender Transatlantic Poet, for my heart is light and glad--recklessly glad--heedless of to-morrow--forgetful of yesterday--full to the very brim with the dear delight of to-day.
And now to business.

I descend from the supernal realms of fancy to the dry record of commonplace fact.

This day week I arrived at Hidling, after a tedious journey, which, with stoppages at Derby and Normanton, and small delays at obscurer stations, had occupied the greater part of the day.

It was dusk when I took my place in the hybrid vehicle, half coach, half omnibus, which was to convey me from Hidling to Huxter's Cross.