The gala of the evening was to commence as soon as dusk, with illuminations, fireworks, and various entertainments out of doors, and to conclude with a masked ball, and unmasked supper within the Castle.

The woods, as far as the eye could reach on either side of the grand approach, and also in the vicinity of the walks leading to the lake and to Lady Susan’s cottage were festooned with coloured lamps, and, at an early hour, filled with groups of company. Lady Susan’s cottage itself was illuminated in a simple style; while, to the great delight of the peasantry and tenantry, who were permitted to peep in at the window, her ladyship, dressed in a rustic garb of stuff, with ribbon tucks, sat by a bright fire spinning with great industry. The trees were purposely left without lamps to a certain distance round, and at the back of the little thatched building, which, with its one window lit up as if to contribute its humble mite to the great public rejoicings, and its open door emitting a stream of firelight, had a singularly picturesque appearance.

Julia, supported by Edmund on one side and the Marquis of H? on the other; and Frances by Colonel Morven and Sir Philip Barton Jones, moved, with a crowd of others, towards the lake, where wonders awaited the curious spectator. The trees which surrounded, and even dipped their branches into this fine sheet of water, were thickly and beautifully hung with coloured lamps, which, reflected in seemingly unfathomable depths, shone like the stars of an inverted sky. The long, light iron bridge which crossed a narrow arm of the lake was also illuminated with much taste and variety. On this our party, with a number of the select company, took up their position: the situation being elevated, and commanding, therefore, a good view of all that was to be seen.

The Earl had contrived a more animated representation of the engagement, of which this fÊte was to celebrate the anniversary, than could have been produced by the hackneyed mode of transparencies.

He had had a number of pleasure boats fitted up and rigged exactly as men of war, with their sides artificially raised, to admit of their seeming to have one, two, or three tier of guns, according to their ratings. Of these, two hostile fleets now appeared on the lake, manoeuvring not far from each other. The admirals, on both sides, exhibiting their three stern lights, signalizing their respective squadrons; and, from time to time, turning their broadsides in full view, lowering their mimic ports, which were lighted up within, and making thus an ostentatious display of their triple row of guns. Edmund absolutely laughed like a child at the pompous airs they assumed so well.

“Capital! capital!” he exclaimed. Arthur, who stood near him, was delighted. Many were the questions put by the ladies to Captain Montgomery. He explained every movement as well as he could for laughing: but to him, who was accustomed to wield the fearful engines of real destructive warfare thus imitated, the proud airs of those little vessels were irresistibly amusing. While to Julia, and all such as had never seen any thing greater, the representation was growing quite imposing. Indeed, the longer it was gazed upon, the better became the deception; for the imagination and the eye both began to allow distance for the deficiency in size, and, as the engagement seemed about to commence, the whole moving scene assumed much of reality and consequence.

Henry, too, as a naval character, had become the oracle of another circle of ladies at a little distance; for, on the present occasion, he did not feel much inclined to place himself in immediate comparison with our hero.

Now a few signal-guns were fired: this was followed by a pause, almost awful: when a brisk cannonade commenced along the line of battle, on both sides. One English frigate, in particular, made herself very conspicuous. But Edmund’s power of giving information seemed suddenly quite exhausted; or he was so much engaged pointing out Admiral Lord Fitz-Ullin’s vessel, and explaining his signals, and what had been from the first his intentions, that he was quite deaf to all questions respecting the frigate. What would have become of the unsatisfied and increasing curiosity of the ladies, it would have been difficult to say, had not an elderly gentleman in naval uniform informed them, that the remarkably situated vessel which had drawn so much of their attention, and which might well be termed the heroine of the day, was the Euphrasia, commanded by Captain Montgomery. He then proceeded to eulogize the gallantry, general character, and even the private virtues of the said captain.

“You, sir,” he added, addressing Edmund, “who seem so well acquainted with Lord Fitz-Ullin and his plans; you must have met with Captain Montgomery, I should think? There is not a man in the service whom Fitz-Ullin values more, or rather perhaps, I should say, so much.” Edmund, no longer able to feign attention to other subjects, bowed, and smiled, at the same time casting an appealing look around him, as much as to say, “Will no one release me out of this dilemma?” The stranger stared. The Marquis good naturedly interposed, and said, “I believe, sir, you have been all this time putting Captain Montgomery very much to the blush.”

“Have I then the honour of addressing Captain Montgomery?” said our naval friend, first bowing, then adding, “allow me, sir,” he shook Edmund most cordially by the hand.

Julia’s enthusiastic heart glowed while it palpitated. How insignificant now appeared inherited titles, when compared with the exalted name Edmund had obtained for himself! How dimly now shone, mere, reflected hereditary splendour, unsustained by great actions on the part of the individual himself, when compared with the inherent, self-existent glory of the founder of nobility! She could not love Edmund better; but henceforward, instead of being afraid and ashamed of her feelings, she would be proud of her preference for such a character! She was sure she should now have courage to own it to her father. Then, a sudden thought of the dangers attendant on so brilliant a career; dangers which, at the moment, seemed passing in review before her eyes; dangers which might, on any day or hour again recur, struck a panic to her heart, and occasioned an involuntary movement, which, had she not checked it instantly, would have been a gentle pressure of the arm on which she leaned.—Edmund started—suspended his breathing for some moments—and then relinquished, with a blush at his own folly, a presumptuous surmise which had crossed his mind. But he drew the arm that leaned on his closer to his side though so gradually, that there seemed no impertinence, scarcely intention in the act; or, rather, it might be supposed to have been induced by the necessity of taking some such precaution against the perpetually passing and re-passing crowd.

The fire of the mimic fleets was now slackening; the smoke clearing away, and the French vessels lowering their colours, amid the shouts of the delighted multitude. Some of the disabled ships of the enemy were now seen to drift to a certain distance from the rest of the fleet, where, instead of burning or blowing up, in the common mode, they immediately became the sources whence issued fireworks, curious, various, and brilliant in the extreme. During this beautiful exhibition, “Rule, Britannia!” was played in magnificent style on board the English fleet: the Earl having placed, for that purpose, one of his favourite musicians in each mimic vessel, so that the little fleet might thus form a complete band. When the harmonies on the water died away, they were answered by “God save the King!” from another band of equally excellent performers, who were concealed among the woods, at the distance best calculated for effect. At these sounds, such of the company as were of a rank to be indoor guests, returned to the Castle; while the remaining crowd were entertained in lit up tents, in which confidential servants presided: some personating prize agents, and distributing, not only refreshments to the people, but the Earl’s bounty, under the name of prize money. This latter immunity, however, was extended only to such as had wit enough to humour the sports of the evening, by assuming the characters of sailors, or sailors’ wives; for it was Lord Arandale’s object to add as much as was in his power to the well merited popularity of a service, so vitally essential to the glory, and very being of the nation.