Family Herald May 26 1860

8/8/2019 Family Herald May 26 1860

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FAMILY& Uomesttc JHagajtne of

COMMON CONVERSATION IS THE BEST MIRROR OP A

PERSON'S MIND AN D HEAR T.

HERALDSlseful Information ant* amusement

ALONG W I T H A HELPING HAND T H E R E SHOULD EVER

GO A HELPING SYMPATHY.

o . 8 9 1 . — V O L . X V I I L ] F O R T H E W E E K E N D I N G M A Y 2 6 , 1 8 6 0 . [PiucE X3NE P E N N Y .

I ' M N O T H A R D T O P L E A S E !

(A young lady''s perplexity.)

dear me, it really is vexing,

ve suitors whom some might l ike well ,so many, that 'tis very perplexing-,

n d now which to choose I can' t tell.y say I am too fon d of flirting,r lovers flock roun d me like bees ;one suits m y taste, that is certain,

though I am not hard to please !

never lend ear to a bold one,or give hopes to thoso who are shy,e passionate men, but a cold on eeither unfeeling or sly ;idower always is snarling,

r mourning his poor dead wife's loss ;old man mi ght ma ke me his darling,

ut old men are always so cross !

re's a sharp hungry l o o k in a spareman,

ith a fat one my fate I ' l l not l i nk;ver can fancy a fair man ,

air m en l o o k so girlish 1 th ink ;

A little man oft is a d andy,A tall one looks just like a crane,

I won't have a drinker of brandy,

Nor one bound from dr ink to abstain !

No w I'll tell you exact ly my fancy,My taste, i f you l ike, you may blame,

There's only one th ing ca n entrance m e —'Tis a man with a high-sounding name ;

He must dress well, dance , sing, and behealthy,

In all the best authors well read,Good temper'd ,kind,generous and weal thy,

Or with him I never will wed.

I 've no other t e rms no w to mentio n,A n d ma mma w on' t object to the m atch,

A n d to this I must cal l your attention,'Twould be what folk3 call a g o o d catch;

The y are wron g wh o declar e I am flirting,It gives me no-pleasure to tease ;

I know how to choose, that is certain,

A n d real ly am not hard to please!

M R S . V A L E N T I N E R O B E R T S .

T H E S T O R Y - T E L L E R .

T H E T A B L E A U .

n the cabinet of my old and cherished friend, Mr. Wi ncheste r, there

gs a picture which had often attracted my attention. It represents ane from the marriage of Figaro ; but the faces are evidently portraits.hough it hangs amo ng many works of the great masters, it does not suffer

m the cont act. There is a freshness and truth of colouring, and anuisite taste in gro upi ng; whi le the perfect finish of the whole makes it

rthy of a place even among the gems of art my friend has placed around

I was standing one mor ning before this, my favourite picture, wond eri nghere was not some histor y connecte d wit h it, when a deep sigh behind mesed me to turn my head, and I saw Mr . Winches ter, who had silentlyered the room, standing with his arms folded, looki ng sadly at the picture.

I s it not beautiful, Em m a? " he said, after a short pause; " i s it notutiful ? "

It is indeed ," I replied. " And, for a fancy sketch, the faces are wonder^y life-like."

I t*is no fancy sketch," said my old friend, hastily. " T h e wholeure is drawn from life. Sit down, Emma , and I will tell you theory of the picture yo u admire so much. Yo u know my wife died whenonly child, Am y, was but two years old. Of cours e, it was necessary to

vide some one capable of taking charge o f the little on e; and my dearer El la, wh o was a widow, consented to bring her two little girls, and

with me, Georgiana, my elder ni ece, was live years ol d; and Kate wasexact age of my Am y, born upon the same day. Th e three girls were

ught up like sisters, sharing the same studies and pursuits. But , as yearsed on, their different characters were more fully developed, and each had

me favourite study or pastim e. Georg iana was a tall, graceful girl, pasnately fond of books, and in imminent danger o f becom ing very blue andantic. Indeed it was only the influence of her sister and cousin that preted her from devoting her whole time to literature. She was pretty, notularly handsome, but with a fine figure and ver y intelli gent count enance.e was as unlik e her sister as possible ; she wras a perfect madcap, fond of amusements, and especially of riding and danci ng. Ther e was no sportdaring or full of mischief for the s parkling brunette to be engaged in;she was the life of every society in which she shone. Am y, my motherone, was, as you well know, beautiful, with her large brown eyes,

uriant chestnut hair, fine figure, and regular features. She was live ly, butso daring as Kate, fond of books, but not sufficiently so to be in danger of

oming pedantic ; but her ruli ng passion was music. Thi s I had spared noense and pains to cultivate, and was ri chly rewarded b y the proficiencyattained in instrumental music, and th e gre at powe r and sweetness of voice.

W h e n Am y was about seventeen years old , an ol d friend intr oduced m e toerton Holmes, a young artist, who was pursuing his profession in this

n. I was much pleased with the modest manners and intelligent converon of the young man; and he became a frequent visitor at our house. H epoor, having nothin g but his profess ion for his suppor t; and, not havi ng

de his name famous, this was but little. He becam e very intimate withctor Grant, Georgiana's betrothed; and we saw much of him. From his visit I could see that he was pleased with my Am y. He woul d sit look ing

at her, while professing to be wholly engrossed with my conversation; andone chord o f her harp or piano, or one note of her clear, rich voice, was sufficient to insure me random answers and imperfect attention for the remainderof our chat.- I saw this with pleasure. His connections were good; hisprinciples soun d; he had had a good education and possessed talent. Wh a tcould 1 wish for mor e? As for money, I was very wealthy.

" One morning he came into my study, and asked my consent to his payinghis addresses to Am y. Thi s was freely give n ; and, as I had already foundmy little girl was not indifferent to him, I promised myself much pleasure inwatching the progress of this little love affair. It is useless to pro lon g this

subject. They came to a mutual explanation, and were, with my full consent,betrothed.

" I was sitting in this room, one morning, when Amy came to me, her eyesswollen wit h weep ing, and evidently in the greatest distress. In answer tomy inquiries, she told me that Atherto n was goi ng to Australia to make hisfortune.

" *

Make his fort une!' I said, laughing. ' Wh y, Am y, I thought you weregoing to do that/

" 'S o did I, ' said my poor child, sob bin g; 'b ut he says you never could

have meant m y money to be his portion. Oh, pa pa !' she said, brightening,' i f you would onl y see him, and tell him that there is no necessity for Iris

leaving us, perhaps he will stay!'

" ' As if 1 could succeed where you have failed,' I replied. ' Howe ver, heis here; is he not ? Send h im t o me, and go up-stairs, and dr y your eyes,darling, for they are not impr oved by crying.'

" Ath erto n came to me, and we had a lon g conversati on. It was in vainthat I represented to him that Am y had enough for both. He positivelyrefused to be dependent upon me or his wife, and insisted upon carving hisown fortunes. He loved Am y for herself alon e; and his pride wras too greatto allow him to appear in the ligh t of a fortune- hunter. I confess I loved theyoung man all the better for his high-spirited independence, and at lengfehgave a reluctan t consent to his departure . It was a sore disappointm ent toAmy, wh o had felt secure in her hop e of my success in induc ing him to st ay;but he promis ed to wait six months long er, and, if his prospects wereimproved, to give up his scheme; if not, she was to make no further objection

to his departing to Australia. And now, Emma , we come to the picture." A s I have said, Am y and Kat e were exactly, to a day, the same age, and

were in the habit of making quite a celebration on the occasion of their joint-birthday. This year, their eighteenth birthday was to be celebrated withunusual splen dour. A fancy ball was to be give n in the evenin g, to conc ludewith tableaux which Atherton had promised to arrange. There was, as youmay suppose, much preparation necessary for the evening's entertainment;

and, for weeks beforehand, nothing but rehearsals, costumes, scenery and effect,

were talked of. I was to be kept in prof ound ignor ance of t he costumes andtableaux, but had prom ised to appear at t he ball in fancy costume, on conditionthat they al lowe d me too to have my secret, and appear in any dress I tho ughtproper. M y sister was taken into m y counsels ; and we concluded to personateKriss Kringle and Mother Goose. The eventful evening arrived, and mygirls came into my study to display their dresses. G eorg iana represented

Minerva, at her mother's particular desire. Kate was attired as an Amazon,an d -my A my as a woo d-ny mph, in green satin and gauze, with brown leaveson her dress and in her hair. . ' This is not all, papa,' she said, turning roundand roun d to display her dr ess ; ' we appear in some of the tableaux, and h ave

other dresses ; indeed, we have one tableau all to ourselves.'" ' Wh at is it ?' I inquired." ' That's tell ing,' said Kate, saucily. And the trio left me." After seeing Amy's costum e, I was not surprised to see Ather ton enter,

attired as a shepherd, and look ing very handsome in the be coming dress.Of course Ell a and I were w ell laugh ed at when we appeared in the ballroom, and wrere surrou nded b y the Tu rks, Greeks , Russians, Poles, fairies,furies, graces, nymp hs, brigan ds, and o ther characters there assembled.Dancing was kept up until about eleven o'clock, and then-the Gompany wereseated in a curtained room, where a stage was erected for the tablea ux.

" The first was a myt hologic al subject, Minerva attiring Pandora for hervisit to Epimetheus. Pandora was personated by Agnes Grant, a prettyblonde, sister to Doctor Grant, who was soon to become Georgiana's husband;and Minerva was personated by Georg iana herself. Th e second tableau wasa scene from ' Much Ado about Nothing,' in which none of our young peopleappeared. The third was from t he ' Merr y Wives of Windsor,' and, to myastonishment Atherton was stuffed for Fahtaff, while Doctor Grant and hisbrother Charles played the parts of Ford and Page, Agnes and her cousin

Grace, Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Page, and the other characters were filled upfrom the company. A fourth was from ' Midsum mer Night 's D r ea m; ' afifth—but it would take too much time to enumerate all. Suffice it that onefollowed another in r apid succession, our gir ls appeari ng in many, untif thecurtain arose for the last. Act second, scene second, in the marriage of Fig aro , the scene in whi ch the countess and her wa itin g-ma id disguise the

: 891 :



[May 26, I860.

page to deceive the count. Georgiana represented the countess; Kate

Cherubmo, the page , and very pretty the gipsy looked; and my Amy per

sonated Susannah. While we were all admiring this group, a few chords

were struck upon an invisible piano-fo rte; and Cherubino advanced towards

Susannah, who began to sing—

Sure none could he lp their praising thee.

W h o ' d th ink he was so fair?

Dear madam, ' t is alarming. See !

He' l l all the beaux delight ,

H o w dare y o u thus so char ming be ?

I shall be jealous quite. '

* C o m e hither ; k n e e l d o w n here t o me ,

That I the cap may try.

One mom ent , quie t , bear to me—•

He ' s prettier, sure, t han I.

Turn rou nd. It fits amazin gly—W hy, here's a face and air !

" I t is impossible to describe the arch grace and piquan cy which Amy

threw into the song; and Kate and Georgiana ably assisted her by theiracting. 'The curtain fell with the actors in the position you see in the picture.

" The guests were all gone, except Atherton and Doctor Grantj when theyoung people came to me, and d rew me into the st udy.

" ' No w, papa,' said Am y, * shut your eyes a moment. There, open them.'" She had drawn aside the curtain whic h hung before the picture t here ;

and I saw it, just as it hangs now, for the first time.

" 'Atherton painted it for a parting gift to you, uncle,' said Ge orgia na;* and we have been sitting for the portraits for two or three weeks. Heworked at the back-gro und without us. Do you like it ?'

" ' It is perfect,' I said. 'At he rto n must let me thank him heartily.'

" A h , Emma, I little thought then how invaluable this picture wouldbecome to me ! Time passed 01 1 ; the six months were at an end; andAtherton left us. Very soon after Georg iana was married, and went intoLanca shire to reside ; and her mother and Kate followed her in the course of the year, leaving Am y and me to keep house alone. W e missed them sorelyfo r a time, but soon became all in all to each other. M y great sorrow wasye t to come. Alth ough a gay child, Am y had always been rather delicate;and her mother ha ving died in deep decline, I had alwa ys watc hed her healthcarefully. Ther e seemed ho weve r no cause for alarm until Atherton left us.She was so devotedly attached t o him, that it was the hardest trial to allowhi m to leave her. She was sadder, but still to me the same affectionate lov ingchild she had alw ays been. I felt uneasy at her sadness, whic h, as she receive dthe best of news from Athe rton, seemed to me unnatural. As winter cameon , she began to cough, and her face was frequently flushed, while her breath ingbecame very much oppressed. The best medical advice was called in. To olate ! They pronounced my darling in a decline. Oh, Emma, what Isuffered can" be known to Heaven a lone ! Am y in a decli ne! The ideaalmost maddened me. Strange as it may seem, I leaned now upon her,instead of becom ing her support and comfort. She was so calm, so resigned.She had l ong felt it must b e so ; and her only desire no w was to seeAtherton once more. W e both wrote the truth to him, and imploredhi m to come with out delay. The day after our letters were sent, I receivedone from him, written on the eve of starting for home. He was comingby sea, and, of course, wou ld miss our letters. I reg retted this, because,had he known of Amy's illness, he would have taken the overland route.There was no help for it, howe ver; and the flash of joy in my darling'seyes when I told her he had actually started in the Morning Light, andwas on his way home, was comfort for the- disappointment I felt that

he would miss our letters. Eve n the hop e of seeing Athe rton could no tkeep Am y up. Da y after day she gre w more feeble, and finally kept herbed entirely. As soon as Ella hear d of her illness she left Kate, Ge orgian a,and the d octo r, to keep house, and came to me. She was a great comfort toAmy, wh o loved her wi th a daughter's love. Th e Morning Light had beenspoken; and we looked for Atherton daily; but the spark of life in mydarli ng grew fainter and fainter, a nd she seemed only kept alive by the hopeof seeing him once more.

" One afternoon I was sitting beside her bed. W e were alone ." ' Father,' she said faintly, ' I am going. I shall not see Atherton. Yo u

will tell him how I loved him. Hark !—there is a carriage at our door.'

" I spr ang to the cjiamber door, and threw it open. His voice in thepassage asked for Am y ; and I heard my sister say, in a lo w tone, ' Dy in g !

Yo u may go up.'

" Dyi ng! —an d he had not heard one word of her illness. He flew upstairs, and stood faci ng me. Nev er shall I for get his face ; pale as death,with his eyes staring forward, as if in extreme terror, his breath coming short

and heavily, and his form trembling with emotion." ' Atherton, my poor bo y,' I said, as he staggered, and fell into my arms,

* calm yourself. Reme mber , yo u will frighten ner if she sees you as youare now.'

" I could not have spoken more judicio usly. His love was unselfish; shewas his first thou gh t; and, by an almost superhuman effort, he calmedhimself, and stood up, pale and trembling still, but with his face quiet, excepta slight tremor of the lips.

" i led him into the room. Am y was sitting up, her form ben t forward,and her face lighted with joyful expectation. Wi th one bound, he was at herside. She fell into his arms unable to speak, but lo oki ng into his face withsuch deep love and perfect peace that it tranquillised him instantly.

" 'Amy! Amy! my own love ! I have come hom e to y ou, ' he said, in alow voice ; ' hom e, never to leave you again, Aitfy.'

" No answer, but the eyes fastened on his face with that same expressionof devoti on and perfect happiness. Sudde nly it change d, and a look of paincame into it.

" 'Mr. Winchester,' said Atherton, alarmed, ' come to her.'" Th e look of pain passed away ; but Amy stretched out one hand to me.

" ' Father,' she whispered, ' Athe rton, I a m very happ y.'" She let her head sink do wn again o n her love r's breast, and closed her

eyxs.

" W e stood perfec tly still for a few moment s, then Atherton whispered to1L0, ' She is asleep.'

" I took her gently from him, and placed her upon the pillow. I saw that

she would not wake upon earth; but I was calm enoug h to do this. Hewatched me with a strange, wild stare, until , after kiss ing her, I dre w the

sheet over the pale face. The n he understood. Wi th one wild cry, he

snatched the sheet from her, and fell senseless beside her upon the bed.

" W e had now another patient. He was ill for a lon g time. The journ ey,

fatigue, and this fearful blow to all his hopes did their work, but he recovered.H e is n ow in Australia, pursuing his profession, still a bache lor, and, people

say, a woma n-h ater ; so much do others know'of it.'*'

" A n d Kate and Georgiana ? " I asked." Po or Geo rgi ana ! She died four years after her marriag e, leavin g her

little Am y in her mothe r's care. Kate is married, and living in Wal es. My

sister is with her, and I am alon e." A N O LD M A I D .

T H E TAP UPON THE PANE.

They told me he had left me,»

That he would not come again,

That thrown away was al l my love ,

And all my watching vain ;

That he another love had foundMore kind, more rich, more fair,

Wh o w o r e br ight gems and diamon d r ings

And blos soms in he r hair.

Alas ! and I bel ieved them,

A n d I wore my l ife away,In dreams of woe through all the night,

A n d weeping a ll t he day ;

They said that I no more should hearHis foots tep dow n the lane,

N o r listen eagerly to catch

The tap upo n the pane.

Bu t years have proved how false the talesThey pour'd into mine ear ;

For hope hath cheer 'd my s inking heart.

A n d love hath banish'd fear.I listen for his foots tep still,

But l iever now in vain,

A n d sweeter than all other sounds

That tap upo n the pane. F. P. A.

L E W I S P E E C I V A L . — A LEGEND OF OXFORD.

(Concluded from No. 8 9 0 , p. 37.)

Days and weeks went on, and the time of Sir Hugh Tr evor 's examination

was at han d; but, had much dep ended on the result of his present, study,there would have been small chance of his gaining the honours which were soconfidently expec ted for him . He certainly worked on, and with littleapparent abatement of dil ige nce ; but his reading was mechanical, and hislabour spiritless and forced. Th e blow whic h he had received had paralysedfor the time all the youthful energies and manly ambition which ha^t givenzest and pleasure to his w rork; success had lost its c harm s; and, had it notbeen for his prom ise to his mother, wh om he almost idolised, he wo uld havebeen tempted to th row up. the priz e he had so nearly within his reach. Hehad scarcely seen Ella since the evening of the concert, having generally con

trived to call when he guessed the girls would be out riding or walking withMr . Wilbraham, and an attack of influenza having confined Mrs. Wilbrahamto her room, and stopped their usual free hospitalities for a time. LewisPercival had more than once mentioned, however, that he and his cousin hadaccidentally fallen in with the girls and Mr. Wilbraham ; and the heightenedcolour and b righ teni ng eye with which he s poke of these encounters told of

a more than common interest in them. In truth, Lewis was much changedsince we first introduced him to our readers; the constant intercourse withmen of his ow n age, gay, thoughtless, and full of high and manly spirit, had,in a great measure, dissipated the morb id fancies and presentiments which hadclouded his naturally impulsive temperament, and a stronger influence still hadworked a yet greater chang e. Minni e de Yesci had from the first moment theyhad met been the very star of his exis tence, the b righ t fairy on who m hisdestiny seemed to depend, and the e ngrossing and exciting effect of this newand delicious feeling banished for the time old associations and early andpremature thoughtfulness of character.

Minnie's joyous vivacity and playful shrewdness had acted like sunshine andfresh air on a droopi ng plant, and Perci val began to wonder, when he thoug ht

at all about it, how he could have wasted youth and life and happiness in suchcauseless fancies. Trev or and he had become great friends ; there was some

thing very winning to Sir Hugh in the freshness, the imaginativeness, and thedepth of feeling whic h characterised the young freshman, and he desired, if possible, to save him from the dangers which peculiarly beset such a tempera

ment, w hen thro wn first into the world. Besides, Lew is seemed a link betweenhi m and Ell a; he heard of her throug h him from ti me to time, and no w andthen a casual expression dropped by the young' man woul d renew a spark of

hope in his mind. He could gather from his remarks that Ella's spirits werefitful, her looks less blooming, and that she would sometimes remain inclose attendance on her mother when Min nie and her father rode out, in spiteof Mrs. Wilbr aham's reluctance to detain her. Ha d not Lewis been Alfred

Crofton's cousin, Trevor would have confided his secret to4i im, though there

was scarcely another man of his acquaintan ce t o whom he would have openedhis most treasured feeli ngs; for the del icacy and depth of feeling which was theyoung man's greatest charms, would have ensured his both comprehending and

respecting the confidence. As it was even, he nearly betrayed himself one daywhen Lewi s was pressing him to go with him to a dramatic reading, where •the Wilbrahams were to be present.

" I do wish you would go, Tre vor ," said he. " Mrs. Wilb raha m was speakingof your strange desertion of them the other day, and asked Crofton what youwere about, and what strange hermit caprice you had taken in your head."

" A n d what did he s ay ? " asked Sir Hug h, sedulously lighting a cigar ashe spoke.

" O h , he laugh ed, and said y ou were very particularly en gage d just n ow,reading hard, possibly writing, and he looked at Miss Wil braha m, who smiledrather bitterly I thought, while j^Iiss De Yesci said, ' Pray, my dear aunt, do

not force Sir Hugh from his pleasant and profitable occupations by yourcommands to wait on you. ' I am certain they arc all vexed with you forstaying away so much."

Trevor sighed. " I f I really thought," he beg an; " i f Ella " but at

that instant Manvcr s came into the room, full of some new bizarrerie of Dx%



May*.uco.] U S E F U L I N F O R M A T I O N A N D A M U S E M E N T , 5 1

Knowall, the most learned and the most absent man in Oxford, and the

young men remained together till the bell rang for Hall.

The play to be read that evening was the " Win ter' s Ta le, " and the two

young cousins and Le wis Percival were especially fascinated by the singularlydramatic reading, having never seen a good representation o n the stage.

" It is one great proof of Shakespeare's genius," said Crofton, as they were

waiting for the last act to be begun , " h o w much variety he throws into the

development of the same passion, and t o a degree o f the same incidents.Take now this play, 'Much Ado About Nothing,' and 'Othello,' how

different, and ye t ho w like the c ircum stances are, and yet each play has adistinct and most natural individuality."

"There is,at least one similarity," remarked Lewis, "distrust of thoseoved and worthy of love and confidence is the cause of the misery in each.

Villains would have little power if there was more noble and firm trustfulness

n others in our nature."

" Bu t there must be some firm foundation, Mr . Perc ival ," said Min nie de

Yesci, eagerly, " or trust degenerates into weakness."

" True," interposed Crofton, " and really there is so little chance of knowing

others in this world, where there is hardly ti me to get acquainted with one's

proper self, that there is some excuse for husbands and lovers w ho hear andead of a goodly number of runaway wives and jilti ng l overs, if they are a

ittle deceived sometimes by appearance. Yo u and t, my dear fellow, ma yhave some chance of know ing one another enough for the pra ctice o f your

pretty theory ; but there are very few for wh om I woul d say as much, as fars I am concerned."

" I will support Perci val, " said Mr. Wilb raha m. " I am rather older thanany two of you put tog ether, and my experience has certainly been that

more mischief arises from distrust than over-confidence. M any who havebeen ' lovers and friends in youth ' have been separated by a poisonous word, or

a careless insinuation, w hich should have been repelled or d isregarde d."

Had Sir Hugh Trevor been there at that moment, perhaps Ella's softenedheart might have betrayed itself sufficiently to bring her lover aga in - to her

ide; for her father's words wakened some doubts in her mind as to the justi ce

and wisdo m of her easy belief in Crofton's remarks to her cousin. But theast act began and ended without her having a very distinct idea of its

progress, as she thought ove r for the hundredth time all that had marked SirHu gh' s conduct towards herself, and tried to find some justification both for

hini and for herself. Scarcely had the play ended when M anvers came up

to them.

" I have tried in vain to find you before, Mrs. Wilbra ham," he said; " Ihave got the little book you asked me to procure in my pocket . I only

eceived it from my sister t o-day, or I should have presented mys elf with itn Beaumont Street."

" You were late, Manvers, I suppose," said Crofton, after Mrs. Wilbrahamhad taken the elegant little volume of the Sacra Privata, and thanked him

for it.

" Y es , " said Manvers, " I was trying to drag Trev or here with me, but he

said he had letters to write—of course to his lady love—and would not come.

Eeally he gets intolerable with his hard reading and other sentime-ntal

propensities."" Y o u profess to be reading hard, too, do you not, Mr. Crofton," said

Minn ie; "b ut you do find a little time for your friends, and such inferiorduties of life, but perhaps you have not your spare time filled up as Sir Hugh

Trevor's seems to be."

" My thoughts may be so, Miss de Yesci, but perhaps with less distant

objects," said Crofton mea ning ly; " bu t I certainly should never put deadauthors or even living honours before my friends, in any case."

" Then your friends are bound to give yo u their best wishes," said Ella,who for once was stung into something very like encouragement to Crofton's

attentions.

They nowT rose to go , and the youn g men, after seeing the ladies into the

carriage, strolled along together to their college.

"Pr ay, Crofton, which o f those two pretty girls are you maki ng up to ?"

asked M anvers, laughi ngly. " I should hope it is the fair El la ; for I have a

penchant for her gipsey little cousin myself, if I had vanity enough to think

I had any chance. By the bye , I used to think T revo r was very sweet on MissWilbraham till you gave me a hint about that Scotch girl."

" But, remember it is all under the rose, my dear fellow," said Crofton;

" Trevor would never forgive a joke on that subject. I tried it on myself, andfound it would not do at all. "

" Well, well, never min d; yo u have not answered m y question, Crofton.

What, or rather who are you in for at Beaumont Street ? "

"Perhaps one; perhaps the other; perhaps both," returned Crofton,gaily,

as they entered the quadrangle. " ' H ow happy could I be with either !' ButI have two or three hours' reading before me, so good night. Don 't dream

of the goddess of your heart to-night, Lewis, lest she mingle with the otherghosts of your apartments."

Secure that he had given both a personal speculation to divert their

thoughts from Sir Hug h, he proceed ed to his rooms, and at once, late as was

the hour, took the precaution to "sp or t oa k," in order to secure himself against intrusion. That done, he threw himself in a chair, and sat for

awhile in apparently well-pleased thought.

"An oth er month well over," he said, "a nd I am safe. Let Trevor but

Lave Oxford with his present position towards Ella, and her belief that hehas been trilling with her still in her mind, and I fear not that they will ever

meet and understand each other again. An d then for myself—what chancewill there be for me ? But I care n ot so mu ch for even that, though I love

her as that prig Trev or does not know how to love. Still I could bear evento fail with her, if>I have not the agony of seeing her another's—that I willnot bear, whatever betide; and if I fail, let Trevor look to it."

He rose as he spoke , and as if he had don e with the su bject for the present

he opened his books, and for some hours past midnight was deep in study.

There were few who had such power over their thoughts and attention attheir will as Alfred Crofton.

* * * * * *The examinations were goin g on, and w ith unusual severity; man after

man was plucked, and more than one so utterly prostrated b y the disapp oint

ment, as to be under medical care; while others were as dangerously reckless

of the consequences of their failure to themselves and others. But amidst alL

this excitement, Sir Hu gh Trevor went calml y into the schools, did his bestas a matter of duty, and waited most stoically for the result.

On the morning when the class lists were to be issued Trevor was sitting at

breakfast, or, rather, his breakfast was standing half untouched before him,when the door was burst open , and Manver s and Crofton and one or tw o

others rushed into the room. ft

" Give you joy, old fe l low!" exclai med the former. " You've got your first;

and Crofton heard the dons say they had not seen better papers for years."

Fo r a mom ent a proud flush rose to Trev or's cheek and brow; and the

consciousness of well-r ewarded industry and talent went warm and grateful

to his heart; but the next the thought that the chief object for which he hadexerted his utmost pow ers was not no w even hope d for by him, and that this

termination of his college career, howe ver prosperous, was but the si gnal

for leaving Ella Willbraham, and the sweetest vision of his lift1, for ever.

" W h y , Trevor, you look more like a pluck than a first. Well, the goods

of this life are very unequally divided, that's certa in; h ere I shall be only too

thankful for a simple pass, and a second wou ld send cap, go wn —t o say

nothin g of tables and chairs—up to the ceil ing ," said Manvers gaily." I hope experience will tell you that even honours are not quite the

seventh heaven, my dear fellow," said Trevor, good-hnm ouredly. " Howe ver,I am not qu ite so phil osophi cal as not to prefer a first to a fourth, and am

much obliged to you all for being less lazy than myself in the matter."

" Remember , Trevor, your com memorative jollification is to be at my

rooms," said Percival. " It is my freshman's priv ilege to entertain my betters

on such an occasion."

" To fire him with a noble emulatio n," remarked Manver s, " in seeing the

results, of combined talent and industry, and the exhilarating effect of a

double first."

" Come and have a gallop to increase it, any how ," said Trevo r, glad to

escape from Man vers 's raillery. " The fact is, I suppose, I am rather done up

now the excitement's over, and that makes me so stupid."

They sallied out, and were soon mounted and galloping away along theAbingdon road, a brigh t frosty da y lendin g spirits to both horses and

riders ; and even Sir Hu gh felt some of his depression vanish in the anima ting

exercise." I see the Wilbraha ms in the distance," exclaimed Percival. " I kno w

Miss de Yesci's splendid Arabian a mile off. Come alon g; I want to speak

to them about the ball the day after to-morrow."

He toucned his horse as he spoke, and the others could not help following;

and very soon they had overtaken the girls and their escort, Mr. Wilbraham.

Minnie De Yesci was slightly in advance; and Lewis, after paying hisgreetings to Ella and her father, pushed his horse on to her side, while

Crofton remained on one side of Miss Wilbr aham, and Mr. Wilbra ham fellback to congratulate Sir Hugh, and Manvers rather vibrated between the two

last parties.

" Yo u have heard that Trevor has his first, I dare say, Miss Wilbraham,"

observed Crofton, after riding on a little whil e. " I know your father al ways

takes interest in seeing the class lists early."" Ye s, I heard it before we came out. I dare say you wish you r fate was as

prosperously decided, Mr. Cr ofton," returned Ella, who could not yet bring

herself to speak of Trevor with indifference.

" Perhaps I do, in some things, Miss Wil bra ham, " he returned, meaningly.

" Trevor will now, I suppose, 'marry and settle at his countr y-sea t;' the Duk e

of Buckingham's summum bonum of punishment , b y the way. My cousinLewis told me he had once dropped a hint that some promise or familyarrangement prevented any publi c engagem ent till he had done with tutors

and schools, and all Oxford ties ; so now the wa y is all clear and straight fo r

him."" All Oxford t ies!" thought poor Ella, as a broader road brough t the

equestrians m ore tog eth er; and she manage d to p lace herself by the side of her cousin and Lew is Perci val ; and a smooth piece of ascent inviting a

canter, all conversation was stopped for the present, an d in a short time afterthey separated, the youn g men to prol ong their ride, and their companions to

take their way homeward.

" W e shall see you at the ball, Tre vor, " said Mr. Wilbraham , as they

parted, " and of course you will pay us a visit before you leave. "

" I shall not be at the bal l," replied Sir Hu gh . " I intend to get away assoon as pos sibl e; but of course I shall have the honour of taking leave of

Mrs. Wilbraham before I go."

Wi th a spirit chafed at El la's co ldness, and apparent intimacy with his

rival, Sir Hugh turned away, with a profou nd b ow to the two youn g ladies,and making an excuse of letters to write, left his companions and returned

home, determined that two more days only should elapse before he too k leave

of Oxford and its painful«associations.

* * * * * *" Mrs . Wil bra ham is not down yet, Sir Hu gh , and my master and Miss de

Yesci are out, but Miss Ell a is in the drawi ng-r oom ," was the servant's repl y,

when Sir Hugh presented himself at the door, once so frequently visited, on

the day of the ball, and the one before that fixed for his departure trom Oxford.

He hesitate d; but an irresistible desire to see Ella once more, and the

addition made by the servant, on seeing his doubt, that " my mistress wouldsoon be in the dra wing- room, " decided him to go up, and take a last sad look

at the face dearest to him on earth still, in spite of the caprice and coldness

which so ill accorded witli its sweet, thoughtful expression.

Ella was sitting in an easy chair when he entered. Some wor k was in her



52 T H E F A M I L Y H E R A L D — A D O M E S T I C M A G A Z I N E O F [May 26, 1SG0.

hand; but feminine eyes 'would have seen that the embroidery needle had not

even been taken out of the place it had occupi ed since it was last laid aside,

and her lang uid air bet okened an i ndisposition to any employ ment b ut the

involunt ary one of thought. A slight flush was the only mark of agitation

whe n Sir Hu gh en tered ; she had expecte d and been prepared for a visit,

though she had hoped it would not have been till the others returned.

" 1 hope you will forgive my intrusion on your solitude, Miss "W ilbraham,"

said T revor ; "b ut I understood Mrs. Wilbra ham would soon be visible, and

I was anxious to see her before I left Oxford, and thank her for the pleasant

hours I have spent here in past days."

" Mam ma will be pleased to have an opportun ity of congratul ating you on

your honours," said Ella, rather touched by Sir Hugh's sad tone. " Y o u

must feel very well satisfied with your distinctions, we all think."Trevor smiled rather bitterly as he replied, " Anticipation is in this case, as

many others, more pleasant than the reality. I care but little for the success,

such as it is, which I have had. Hon ours are barren, empty things after all."

" Perhaps they arc eclipsed b y more interesting and brighter prospects,"

said Ella, striving to speak gaily. " I suppose we ough t no t to offer conge

lations on a still more important event, till it is annou nced in due form ; but

if your cousin is as charming as you have described her, you may well be too

much en grossed to care for an Oxford first."

Sir Hugh looked rather perplexed; then exclaimed, "Scarcely, Miss

Wilbraham; I love Clara dearly, as she deserves; but even her happy

prospects cannot quite make me forget my own pleasures—or sorrows either,"

he added in a low tone. $

She looke d wonde ringl y up. " But I thought, I understood "" That Clara will be married ne xt month t o Lord Arthur Spencer," said

Sir Hugh, seeing that she stopped. " I rejoice truly in her havin g snch ahome secured to her after her trials; but her happiness perhaps makes me

feel my own sorrows more keenly."

"But I did not know—I fancied that—that Miss Macdonald was—that

yo u "

A flash of delighted compr ehension crossed Sir Hug h' s mind. In a mo ment

he was at Ella's side, her hand seized in his." I ! Oh, Ella, can yo u have read me so ill, as to think for a moment that

any one but yourself could occupy my heart, or be chosen for my bride ! Is

it possible that this is the cause o f the change whic h has cost me so much

anguish ? Speak, dearest, best love d, tell me that I may once more hope, as

I did presume to do, that I was not indifferent t o you—that my devotedaffection was not in vain! "

Wh at could Ella do ? She had fairly given her love r a glimp se of the

truth, and moreov er her revulsio n of feeling left her little power for conceal

ment or wom anly coyness. Speak she certainly did no t; but one momentary

glanc e o f her beautiful eyes, and the hand she did not attempt to withdraw,

supplied the place of words, and Sir Hugh drew her to his heart, and pressedone fond kiss on her sweet lips—a tacit betrothal which both were .too happy

and too agitated to speak more definitely for some moments.

"B ut tell me, my Ella, " he said, when they were a little calmer, " who

could put such fancies into your head ? Surely not Perciva l—or Crofton ? " he

added, quickly.

El la saw the flashing e ye, and qui ck fiery glan ce, as he spoke, and pru

dently averted the com ing storm by saying, " I believe it was my ow n jealo us

folly more than anything else, Hug h, whic h made me fancy you were engaged

—you spoke of her so warm ly, and- "

Sir Hu gh' s grateful deligh t at the confession her wrords implied, and at

hearing his name for the first time from her lips, made him very indulge nt as

to further explanations, and the entrance of Mrs. Wilbraham, followed some

little time after by that of her husband and niece, changed the current of his

ideas, and prevented more minute inquiries as to the source of Ella 's mistakenfancies.

Hugh Trevor had not much difficulty in obtaining the consent of his

affianced bride's parents to their eng agem ent ; his character and position

made him an unexceptio nable match for a girl in a high er position than Ella

Wi lbr aha m; and as her own inclinations accorded most admirably and

dutifully with their wishes, nothing was wanting but his mother's approbatio n

to completely settle the affair.

The hour at last warned Trevor that he must depart, especially if he meant

to try for a ticket for the b all that night, and he hurried along the streets

with a joyous, animated air, to which he had long been a stranger." Wh y, Trevor, don't knock me do wn in your hurry, man ! What's come

to you ? Y o u look as gay as Manvers himself, after seeming ready to hang

yourself for the last few weeks."

" I f I do, it shall be in silken cords," replied Sir H ugh , gai ly; "bu t,Crofton, can you get me a ticket for the ball to-nigh t ? I have changed my

mind about going."

" H' m— I will try ; but what spell has been over you, Trevor, or is over

yo u now, I can't tell which."

" A spell is over me, and will l ong continue, I hope ," said Sir H ug h, too

happy for suspicion or concealm ent. " Come, old fellow, manage this forme , and I will let you into a secret. I am the happiest fellow on earth!

Ella Wilb raham has accepted me, and you shall be best man at my wedding,

if you deserve such an honour by helping me to the ball."

For an instant a perfect hurricane of passion passed over Alfred C rofton's

usually well- control led features, and a deadly paleness spread over cheek and

l ips; but by a desperate effort he mastered the emotio n whi ch almost

unmanned him, and replied w ith well-assum ed gaiety, " A thousand con

gratulations, my dear fellow ! You must say a good wor d for me to the fair

Minnie, and who knows how soon my wedding may follow your own ? Bu tI must lose no time if I am to manage you r business. So good day to you."

Crofton hurried to on e of the stewards wh om he knew had still some

tickets left, sent one to Trevor's rooms, then, shutting himself in his own,

gave way to the tempest of passion he had wi th such difficulty restrained.

" Fo il ed !" he exclaimed, as he paced his room with a hurried and unequal

step ; " foiled, just at the moment when all seemed safe; and yet I made no

false step, left nothing undone. Fate, fate has been against me; but I will-

vanquish even fate ! Hav e her he shall not, if there is power in human

will. I wil l not live to see it ; or rather he "

His voice dropped , and for some minutes he remained motionless and

silent where he sto od He look ed up at length with a resolved and stern

expression, whi ch he saw reflected in an opposite mirror. He started, as he

saw the pallid cheeks and lips, the hagga rd lines, the glittering eyes, whi ch

spoke of such intense and deadly emotion.

" A proper face that for a ba ll !" he said, with a bitter laugh. " T h a t

must be watched, or I shall be suspected, and all will be lost. Cour age,

Alfred Crofton, all is not yet over; revenge remains, if nought beside."With a powerful effort that mighty spirit quelled the tumultuous workings

of passion, and b y degrees some portion of colou r returned to his face; a

tumbler or two of wine and an elaborate toilette supplied the rest; and when

he entered the ball -room at a rather late hour that evening, no one would

have guessed the inward agony of his heart. He danced, he talked, and paid

his usual half-graceful, half-ironical complim ents to many a belle, or woul d-

be be ll e; he ev en forced himself to ask Ella W ilbr aham for a Avaltz; and

had she bees, less p re-occu pied by her new-born happiness, she wou ld have

been startled by the strength of the grasp in which he held her, and the

forced gaiety of his manner. Minnie de Yesci was perhaps the only one whonoticed that there was som e change in their fascinating acquaintance, and

wh o assigned for it the true cause. She asked Lew is Percival, on whose arm

she was leaning, if his cousin was quite well.

" W h o, Alfred ? yes, I believe so. I breakfasted with him this morning,

and he was in excellent spirits; he is pretty equal at all times, and I used to

envy him his cool practical way of treating and thinking of everything ; but

now, I would not like to part with the pow er of feeling and enjoying to the

very full."

" A n d what has wrou ght the change ? " asked M innie archly, though her

cheeks betrayed some suspicion of the truth ?" Say, rather, who ?" replied Lewis, leading his companion to a distant seat

in a small conservatory. " Y ou have taught me what a happiness life may

be—oh, Minnie, will you, can you promise, can you consent to make mine as

blessed as you only could do ? "

Minnie was taken by surprise. She had tolerably well suspected her young

lover's feelings, but she had no idea that they were so deep and serious, nor

anticipated an open declaration of them ; and though she felt pretty well

aware that her own saucy heart was caught at last, she felt as if she must

have time, a sort of reprie ve from fixing her des tiny for life, which, to her

volatile, gay nature, seeme d a formi dable affair.

" D o not trifle with me, Minni e," pleaded Lewis, in tones whic h spoke the

agitation and deep feeling which shook him to his heart's core.

" I wo uld not, indeed I woul d no t," she replied ; " but it is so sudden, so

unexpected that I hardly kn ow what to say. Give me a little time to think—•

I will not willingly keep you in suspense long."

Lewis was not quite casuist enough in love' s mysteries to understand the

full value of the admission that it was only time that was needed, to give him a

favourable answ er; but even to his inexperience there was something in

Minnie's downcast eye and deepened,colour which did not look very discour

aging, and he pressed his suit eagerly enough to obtain a half promise that

" if her friends and his did not see any decided objection she would not m ake

many herself."

Lewis knew very well that, as the heir of a very comfortable property, his

early marriage woul d be the earnest wish of his mother and guardian, and as his

alliance would not be a very undesirable one for Minnie herself, he felt

tolerably exhilarated, even by this conditional encouragement of his dif£dentaffection.

A happier party than those four you ng lovers, when they parted on the

departure of the Wilbrahams, would scarcely be found in hall or cottage that

night, and if sleep did not come so soon as usual to their pillows, it was from

the very excess of happiness, which cared not to be lost in even temporary

unconsciousness.

Ther e was one wakeful watcher in Oxford that night, wh ose thoughts were

of a very different character ; dark and gloomy retrospects and plans, and deep,

revengeful jeal ousy were all at wo rk in Alfred Crofton's heart during that

long, sleepless night. He recalled with savage, yet torturing minuteness eachlook and word h e had caught of Trev or and El la ; and even his young cousin's

happy love for Minnie de Yesci seeemed to add to his suffering by contrast.

H e eve n felt a sort of injury that it was thus impossible for him to showaffected indifference to Ella b y devotio n to her^fascinating little cousin, or to

take refuge in trying to win her heart, as some diversion from his own

desolation of spirit. There was truth and intensity in Crofton's love fo r

Ell a W ilbr aham , which w ould have commanded sympathy and respect had it

not been mingled with darker and still deeper passions.

* * * * * *The dinner in hall and evenin g chapel had been long over, when a figure

was seen quietl y and slo wly ascending the first flight of the stone staircase of

I Oriol, and then withdr ew into the shade of the deep projecting wind ow on

the landing place, where it waited motionless and silent for some quarter of

an hour, while the sound of gay voices, and now and then a song or merry

laughter was heard from the rooms on the flight above. It advanced from

time to time a step or two forward, and listened attentively for a mo ment

with evident impatience.

" Curse their idiot mirth!" he murmured, at last. " I trusted to his lover

like impatience to be with Ella this last evening, never dreaming he would

stay so late at this gathering of fools, and Percival said they should break up

early on his account . Sho uld 'th ey find me here, it wou ld pass as a joke ,

however. I will wait."

An approac hing footstep made hi m draw back into the shade ; but it was



Ma y 26, 1SG0.] U S E F U L I N F O R M A T I O N A N D A M U S E M E N T . 53

only Sir Hug h Trevor's scout, and he advanced towards him, saying, " Ah !

Johnson, is it you? Stay a moment, my good fellow. Can you keep a secret

and not spoil sport ? "

" I hope so, Mr. Cro fton," replied the man, pocketing the gold piece

slipped into his hands by the young man.

" Well then, I have a bet depending on my getting Sir Hugh Trevor away

from my cousin's before midnight, and it is now only a quarter before twelve.

Wil l you go and tell him some one is waiting for him at his rooms, with a

message, you fancy from Mr. Wilbrah am's ? Yo u understand ? "

" Yes, sir; but Si r Hug h will be much displeased, I fear. "

" Oh, I wil l bear yo u harmless; and you know he goes to-morrow. Come,

be off with you."

A second sovere ign quieted John son's s cruples, and he went on his errand ;

and as he ascended the stairs a cheer and crash of glasses was hea rd; and

Crofton ground his teeth as the discordant sounds fell on his ear.

" Fools!—idiots! The y little dream what is so near the m," he again

murmured, as he listened to Johnson's retreating steps—his knoc k at the

door, which opened and shut quic kly. A short pause ensued ; then the door

opened again. A quick, bou nding step came rapidl y down the stairs. Crofton

hastily advanced—drew something from beneath his gown. A bright flash of

steel was revealed by the moonli ght . A groan, a fall was heard. Th e next

moment Crofton was flying from the spot with the speed of light,

* •*• -*- * * *

The little party at Lcw ris Percival's rooms in honour of Sir Hugh's passing

so brilliantly had assembled rather earlier than usual on such occasions ; and

never had more light -hearted gaiety or more sparkling ch ampag ne gon e

merrily round than in that merry littl e k not of friends, as they went over

many a past scene and droll adventure; and spite of Trevor' s bright

prospects, he could not forbear a gentle regret for the epoch of his life no w

closed for ever.

" What a confounded bore that headache of Crofton's i s! " observed Aldred,

a youn g man o f fortune, ill used to brook the slightest disappointment, as

they began to flag a little in their mirth . " There is no one like him for

making an evening pleasant, though one does not exactly know how. Noth ing

seems complete without Crofton."

" Many thanks for your compliment, Ald red, " laughed Trevor, rising.

" I a m off on the strength of it."

" T o o bad, too ba d," was the general chorus. " W e wont have such

shirking, T revor, and the last night, too. Sit down, old fellow—you

shan't go."

"I t is not eleven yet, Hug h, " said Percival. " Y o u are not a Benedict

yet, you know, and need not go to roost with the birds."

" Oh, don't trouble yourselves about me, " returned Trevor . " I will be

back in less than an hour, and then we'l l keep it up as long as you lik e."

An d Avith a gay nod, Trevor left the room.

" Lucky fellow that is, " observed Aldred ; " a baronet with seven thousand

a-year ; a first-class man, and goi ng to marry the prettiest girl in Oxford. It

is not fair, such a monopoly of goods."

"Percival will say ' na y ' to your last proposition," observed Manvers.

"There is. a toss-u p, I must say, which is the prettiest, Miss Wilbraham, orher Hebe little cousin."

" I do not suppose that either lady would be flattered by being discussed

among us in that wa y, " said Perciv al flushing. " I hate names being bandied

about so lightly which ought to be respected by gentlemen."

" A tender subject, hey ! Percival," laughed Manvers, who however was by

no means devoid of good feeling, " but I meant no sligh t, I assure you, to

either of the young ladies; I only admire bot h so much as to be very muc h

like the donkey betwee n the bun dles of hay. Come, let us drink their

health."

" N o t together—that would be a regular insult to them, and t o Perciva l's

wine," cried Aldred. " First, Miss Wilbraham, I say, and then the blue-eyed

fairy, who I confess is the most to my taste of the two."

Accordingly very full bumpers and very hearty cheers were quaffed to both

the fair cousins in turn, and Crofton was unwittingly the auditor of the

honours paid to the woman for whom his love was turning to deadly and

jealous revenge.

Scarcely had the young men resumed their seats and their composure, when

a knock at the door was heard, and J ohnson entered.

" Is Sir Hugh Trevor here, sir ? " he asked, look ing eagerly round." Wh y, scarcely, as yo u may see, Joh nson, unless he is under the sofa, or

in one of yonder bottl es, whic h you may as wel l take away. But what do

yo u want with him ? No etcprt^ from Scotland, or a message from the Home

Secretary has arrived, has it ? " said Perciv al, whose spirits were as ga y as

Manvers, since a short interview with Minnie 's uncle and half-an-hour with

Minnie herself, that morning.

" Out with it, man," exclaimed Aldred. " Don't stand there as if you had a

warrant for the Tower in your pocket. Wh o wants Sir Hu gh ? "

" Wh y, Mr . Aldred, I was not to tell ; but as Sir Hug h is not here, I

suppose it don't signify. It was Mr. Crofton who sent me for him, but I was

to be sure not to tel l him s o; he is waitin g for him now—for some bet, I

believe."

" Crofton there ! Then he was only shamming after all ! I'l l give it him ! "

cried Lewis, gaily. " Stay there, Johns on, and I'll have him up in no time ;

it's too bad; and he shall pay for it before the night's out ."

"Bu t, sir, you'l l get me into trouble," remonstrated Johnson, alarmed for

his golden 'booty.

" Oh, I'll take care of that. Keep him, M anvers, " and Lewis Percival

left the room."L et 's sport oak, and let them cool a bit," said Aldred, as their host shut

the door; and as the party had by this time a good deal more wine than wit in

their heads, the not very brilli ant practical joke was received with much

applause, and at once carried into effect.

Some minutes passed in perfect silence, and a strange feeling seemed to creep

over the party at the sudden contrast to the previous noise and jollity ; then slow*

and uncertain steps were heard mo unt ing the stairs at intervals, and the young

men looked at each other, scarcely knowi ng whether their orgies had been

sufficient to affect their young host's head so seriously.

" L e t them wait a bit ; it wil l cool their brains," said Manvers, himself

rather excited by champagne and cigars.

Another five minutes or so ela psed ; the steps had ceased, when a heavy fall

and a deep groan startled the list eners; the scout rushed to the door followed

by the you ng men, and all for an instant stood paralysed and awe-struck by

the sight wh ich presented itself. On the land ing, close to his own door, lay

the lifeless form of Lewis Percival; blood flowing from a deep wound in his

side, wT

hich had stained his dress and hands, form ing a ghastly spectacle asJohnson, the most self-possessed of the party, raised him from the ground,

and, with the help of one of the most sober of the guests, bore him to a sofa

in his sitting-room, and began to examine the wound, in the hope that life

was not quite gone.

" Go for Mr. S eymour, one of you gentl emen! " he exclaimed. " Some water,

Mr . Aldred—quick ! "

Th e young men obeyed, scarcely know ing what they did; and Johnson

was bathing the pallid face, and trying to stop the blood, which still slowly

flowed from the side, when Trev or entered. He stood appalle d and speechless

for a moment, then exclaimed, "I n heaven's name what means all this?

Aldred, Dougl as, who has done this horrid deed ? Surely no drunken quarrel

could go so far."

xl few wr

ords told him all that was kno wn of the affair; and from various

sligh t circumstances and passing suspicions, discarded formerly as un worthy

jealousy, some vague idea o f the truth flashed on his mind . He could have

groaned with anguish, as he looked on the youn g and gifted being, who, he

feared, had been sacrificed in his stead, and whose att achin g q ualities had

won so rapid ly on his not too facile affection ; and as the tho ugh t o f M inn ie

de Yesci, his own El la' s dearest friend, came to aggrava te his own grief, he

turned away, and in spite of his manhood, large and scalding tears fell from

his eyes.

Th e entrance of Mr. Seymour, quickly followed by the proctor and his

bulldogs, roused him from this paroxysm of grief, and quickly altered the

position of matters in the chamber. The surgeon quickl y pronounce d life to

be extinct, while the officials at once took all possible measures for ascer

taini ng the particulars of the murder , and tracing its perpetrator, and the

first step was naturally a search in Crofton's rooms, and of the means of escape

of the guil ty criminal, whoever he migh t be. The apartments of the cousin

of the v ict im were of course found vacant, and eviden t preparations for his

flight could be traced in the absence of any papers or money, and showed that

the deed was premeditated. A ladder of ropes was thrown over the wall of

the quadran gle, and a post-ch aise and four was ascertained to have been

engaged from Blenheim, to be at the outskirts of the city the previous night,

which conveyed a gentl eman some twent y miles on the Cheltenha m road, and.

there all trace of the fugitiv e was lost for the present.

An inquest sat on the following day on the body of the murdered ma n, and

a verdict of " W i l f u l Murder against Alfred Crofton" was returned, and anactive search for the supposed criminal set on foot by the police, stimulated

by a reward of £ 1 0 0 , offered at once by Sir Hu gh Trevor, and doubled sonic

few days after b y the broken-he arte d mother o f the unha ppy victim of a cruel

and mistaken vengeance.

- * • * * * *" Oh, Miss Ell a ! oh, my dear yo ung lad ies; have you heard the news ?

Oh dear, oh dear ! I feel all of a tre mble ; I thought I should have drop ped

when Sibbald came in the housekeeper's room just now and told us f"

exclaimed Ella Wil braha m's maid, rushing into the dressing-room mutually

occupied by the cousins.

" What is it, Benson ? " asked Ella, ca lmly, being too much accustomed to

her maid's paroxysms of wonder at every trifling occurrence to feel much

alarmed at her startling address.

" Oh, Miss Ell a! I never could have th ought it of such a nice, pleasant-

spoken young gentleman. It might have been poor dear Sir Hug h himself,

yo u know— "

" What do you mean, Benson ? Speak out, I entreat," said Ella, turning as

white as the dressing-gown she wore.

" No , Miss Ella, it is not Sir Hu gh ; so you need not look so frightened,thou gh I am sure I don't kn ow what I felt when Sibbald said, 'Ben son,

here's a pretty business. Here's Mr . Crofton gone and stabbed Mr. Percival,

and though it ain't Sir Hug h, everybody says ' "

But the collective wisdom of Oxford was not doomed to benefit Benson's

young ladies—one piercing scream was heard, and Minnie de Yesci fell sense

less into her cousin 's arms, who was standing close to her as Benson spoke.

W h e n Sir Hug h entered the hous e some two hours later he found it in

a state of confusion and dismay; and i t was with some difficulty that he got

hold of Benson to take a message for him to Ella, begging her to see him for

a few minutes. Ella soon joi ned hi m, however, and gave way to the flood

of tears she had hitherto restrained in the invalid's room, as her lover tenderly

drew her to him, and clasped her in his arms.

" Oh, ho w dreadful it all is ! " she said at last, as her composure returned

in some measure. "P oo r, poor Lewis! And Minnie is even more to be

piti ed. She fainted on hearin g of the terrible news, and has never spoken or

moved since, though I sometimes fancy she is not quite unconscious."

" Poo r girl ! " said Trevor, sadly. " Better almost that she should remain

so at present, my Ell a. It is indee d a heart- breaking business. But tell me,

dear girl, had you ever any reason to think that Crofton admired you ? "Ella coloured a little, but replied, " I hardly k now what to say, dear Hug h.

H e never said so, and I do so dislike fancying such thi ngs ; and yet I have

sometimes feared that he did."

" W a s it he who told you I was engaged?" asked Trevor.



6 4

" He told poor Min nie so ," she replied, " and gave me many hints of the

same kin d; b ut I thou ght it better not to tell you , especially as it mig hthave been innocently done—at least I thought so then."

" It is but t oo certain, I fear, my dearest Ella . I feel convinced that theblow was meant for me, in revenge for my success in winn ing you . John son'saccount of the affair, and what I'have observed myself, confirms my belief that

he loved you wi th all the intense passion of a strong nature, and that poor

Lewis has fallen a victim in my place."

Sir Hugh's voice grew husky, spite of his efforts to maintain his com

posure, and Ella's tears flowed afresh.

" Oh, Hug h, how dreadful!—and I am so selfish, I cannot but be happ y inyour safety, 'while Minn ie is enduring w hat m igh t have been my suf fering."

Sir Hugh kissed the sweet, tearful face that looked so lovingly up to his,and then said, " W e must show o ur gratitude for our fw n escape, dearest, bydoing all we can for the chief sufferers in this dreadful affair. I must leav eyo u for two or three days, to g o and bre ak the ne ws to poor Lewis's motherand the Croftons, wh o are almost, if not more to be pitied . Ye t I can har dlybear to go at such a time."

" Go, dear Hu gh ," said Ella, firmly, though her c ling ing arms showed how-hard was the effort to part with her lover after such a shoc k. " It mi ght killpoor Mrs . Perc iva l to hear it from strangers. Go at once, and I shall do verywell till you come back to me! and I shall be a great deal with Minnie, youknow, and could not see you very often."

Ell a's trem bling form and quiveri ng lip told a different tale to her words;but Sir Hugh felt there was no alternative, and with many a fond promiseand earnest exhortati on to care on both sides, the lovers parted, Ell a to returnto her unconscious cousin's bedside, and Trevor, after a brief interview withMr . Wil bra ham , to his rooms , and, in about an h our after, to leave Oxford

as rapidly as four horses, stimulated by doub le fees to postbo ys, could take

him.

W e will not follow him o n his painful miss ion; it wou ld avail little to

describe the broken-he arted despair of the bereaved mother, or the deep,gloomy sorrow and shame of the father and young brother of Alfred Crofton.Suffice it to say that Sir Hugh Trevor did all that a generous and warm heart

could devise for soot hing and comfo rting the deep gri ef whic h it was not in

human powe r to lighten. It was not till he saw that nothing remained forhi m to explain or to propo se, and till Mrs. Percival herself, in her unselfishgratitude, desired him to return to his beloved Ella, that he yielded to hisintense desire to be once more by her side.

" Go, my dear Sir Hu gh ," was Mrs.Percival's request, " y o u will be of realservice and comfort to me, by acting as a brother to my poor boy and seeingevery necessary step tak en; for I have no pow er even to think, much less toarrange and act."

Sir Hug h quitted the birt hplace of his unfortunate friend with sorr ow evendeepened by the sight of the fair heritage from whi ch he had been thus earlycut off, and by the conviction, as he looked on the quiet, heart-stricken mother ,that she would soon follow her son to the grav e. He spared neither fatigueno r mon ey on his homew ard jou rne y, and had not lost an hour on the road tillhe arrived at Swin don, "when he met with an une xpect ed obstacle in the

shape o f a civil request from the landlord that he would waive his right of first co mer to the only post-horses in favour of a physici an who was goi ng dow nto sec a you ng lady dangerou ly ill in Oxford. Sir Hugh at once too rightlyconjectured this might be Minnie de Yesci, and a few moments' interviewwith Dr. Balfour at once satisfied him of that sad fact, and arra nged for thetw o gentlemen to go on together.

" I have little doub t the attack is catalepsy," said Dr. Balfour, "fro m thedescription Seym our has written me, one of the most puz zlin g and baffling

diseases we have. Some shock , he tells me, has occasioned the mischief."

Trevor gave him a brief sketch of the event whi ch h ad preced ed Minn ie'sattack, and the good old physician seemed much touc hed with the recital." P o o r child, poor child, " he said, "a nd so yo un g; only seventeen, you say.Well , we must pull her thro ugh if possible. I never despair wh en there isyouth and unbroken constitution to work on."

Dr . Balfour looked grave and almost hopeless when he saw the pale rigid formof the young Minnie, and heard that she had lain four days in that state.

H e inquir ed very minutely into her previous habits and tastes, and especiallyAvhat associations she would most retain with the unfortunate Lewis. Ella,wh o pale and worn as she looked, had retained in an astonishing degree herfirmness and presence of mind in her attendance on her suffering cous in, wasmore especially appealed to, and she at once said that there would be nothingmore connected with poor Lewis than music, which they had both passionatelyloved.

"There was an old air she taught him, mamma," she said, turning to hermothe r, "a nd many a playful scold ing she gave him abou t it. It is onethat Hug h sings sometimes— 'Blow, blow*, thou winter's wind '—an d Lewistook a great fancy to it."

" W e must try it then," said Dr . Balfour. " Can Sir Hu gh sing it withoutmusic ? "

" Oh, yes ," said Ella, "' or I can strike a few notes on the guitar to hel p h im ."" Then let him come and try wha t it will do ," said Dr. Balfour. " First put

her in an easy position, and let her be shaded from the light as much aspossible, while I go and fetch him."

Sir Ilugh at once accompanied the physician to the sick room; but evenhis manly firmness was shaken when he saw poor Min nie, with her beautifulhair falling round the pale, sweet face, once so brig ht and radiant, andremembered that, even if her life was saved, a deep and bitter sorrow awaitedher awakening. He collected himself, however, and with some difficulty

commanded his voice sufficiently to begin the air Ella had mentio ned. Atfirst the patient seemed as utterly unconscious or sounds or sights around as she

had so long been ; but, as the song jprocecded, Dr. Balfour, who had his handon her pulse, fancied there was a slight quickening of the beats, and an almostimperceptible move ment of the eyelids, and he desired Sir Hu gh still to go

on. After some five or ten minutes more the signs of returning animationbecame more unmistakeable, till at last the long closed eyes opened, a deepheavy sigh was heard, and then, as still the sweet rich tones of Trevor's voice

filled the apartment with increasing strength and pathos, she murmuredaudibly, " I t is he, it is Lewis, and it is all a horrid dream," and burst intoa passion of tears.

" S h e is safe no w for the prese nt," said Dr. Balfour, "s o far as the firstattack is concerned; but if the memory is good enough to recal past eventsthere will be danger of fever; but that is better than the past state. W eca n battle with that with her youth on our side."

Dr . Balfour' s predictions were verified. After a few hours of troubled, half-unconscious, half-confused wakefulness, Minnie seemed to become suddenly

more aware of all that had occasioned her illness, and her weakened frame wasunequal to its horror s. Feve r and de lirium rapidl y came on, and for manydays her life hung on a thread; but D r. Balfour's confidence never gave wayas to the result, and at last youth, and good nursing, and fond affection

triumphe d, and the ange l of death rece ded from Minnie de Ycsci's pillow.

But it was man y weeks bef ore she was able to be told the sad truth whichhad hau nted alike her delir ium and her con valescence, and the deep dejectionwhich succeeded was almost mo re distressing to her loving nurses than hermore dangero us and violent illness had been. She woul d lie for hours silent

and motionless on her sofa, unless roused by the loving efforts of hen-kindrelatives to divert and occupy her, and to these she always responded withtouching unselfishness and gratitude.

There was nothing morbid or bitter in Minnie de Yesci's grief; and when,,on her gradual recovery of strength, the marriage of Sir Hugh and her cousinwas again t alked of, and La dy Tre vor, wh o had made a pilgrim age fromScotland to sec her son's affianced bride, expressed a strong wish for it to take

place as soon as possible after1 that of Clara Maedonald, once so terrible arival to the young Ella, in order that a daughter migh t replace the niece she

was losing , Minn ie was the first to strengthen the arguments of the

bridegroom and his mother." I shall take your p lace now , Ella darling ," she said, " as daughter to

my uncle and aunt. I am not very likely to run away from them no w; andI shall be better for having some duties to fulfil."

Despite Ella 's re luctance to brin g the contras t of her ow n fate and herdarling cousin's so soon and so strikingly forward, the weddi ng was finallysettled for the first week in June, and Mr. and Mrs. Wil bra ham and Minniepromised to join the n ew married pair on their arrival at their Highlandhome some time in Augu st, and remain till the approach of winter warnedthe delicate aunt and niece to return to the milder south.

# * * - * # •

It wTas a lovely afternoon in Apri l, and the early spring was brin ging outthe blossoms of the orchards of Norma ndy, when a traveller entered the innof one of the p retty secluded villages of that fair p rovince, and desired dinner

and a bed to be got ready for him. li e was evidently Englis h, th ough hispale, finely-cut features and slig ht figure wer e lit tle in the Joh n Bull type ;and there was a haggard look in his face, and a wild, troubled expression inthe eyes whi ch half frighte ned the pr etty Lizet te, the host's daughter, andmade her decline the task of waiting on him farther than to assist her mother

in getting his cham ber ready, while her father, a cook by profession, preparedhis small but tempting dinner with the skill of an experie nced master of that

art. But the stranger did little justice to his host's delicious little dishes,though he looked worn and exhausted by long travel, and M. Pricot was nota little scandalised at his guest's want of appetite.

" I hope monsieur will like the wine better than his dinner," he said,half reproachf ully, as h e placed a bottle on the table ; " it is one of our bestvintages." »

" I t cannot be better than your dishes, my good host," replied Alfred

Crofton, for it was he; " but I have not been very well, and mean to staywith y ou a few days to recrui t."

"O ur air is as pure as possible," returned the host, bowi ng low , " and wewill try to make monsieur as comfortable as we can while he is with us."

" H a v e you anythi ng in the house to read ? " said Crofton, as M. P rico tprepared to leave the room. " My valise will be here this evening, but at

present I have no book about me."

" I will see," replied mine hos t; " I dare say Lizett e has some that may

amuse monsieur a little."

M. Pricot left the room, and soon returned with some well worn volumes,and also a couple of newspapers.

" Her e is a volum e of Madam e de Sevigne, and one of Froissart, andanother of Mad ame de Genlis's talcs, and here arc two E ngli sh newspaperswhich a countr yman of monsieur's left here so me weeks ago . They are old,but they may amuse him if he has been long from his own country."

Crofton accepted the importation of literature with tolerable grace ; all wasalike to his fevered mind; he sou ght in va in relief or momentary oblivion fromthe mem ories which haunted him day and nig ht during the weeks lie hadwandered about like Cain, with the brand of the murderer on his heart, if nothis brow. He put the tattered volume s aside, and eagerly glanced over thelong unseen columns of the Times. It was stra nge to him to see how allwent on as usual in his island ho me ! Polit ics, gaieties, societies, crimes, allprogressed as the y had done befor e his banishmen t, and would do after hisguil t had found refuge in the grave. One was scanned rapidly over, and theother taken up, a heading to one of the paragraphs caught his eye; hedevoured it with feverish rapidity, his face growing ashy pale as he read, then

casting it down on the ground he stamped on it with the fury of a maniac.

"Fo i l ed , du pe d! " he exclaimed. "T he guilt of blood and of kindred

blood is on m y hands, and I am n ot avenged ! My rival is triumphant, andElla will be happy, while I—guilty cursed wretch that I am—am doomed toeverlasting despair. And Lewis, poor poor boy, so you ng, so warm-hearted,so attached to me, is my vic tim ; poor fellow, his forebodin gs were but tootrue; his mother, too, will curse me—oh!—it is too much—it is more than I



May 2(5, I860.] USEFUL INFORMATION AND AMUSEMENT. o 5

n bear. Ella, Trevor—may you, too, taste some of the torment I am

ffering—may the thought of the sacrifice you occasioned haunt your happiestoments, and mar the brightness of your lives! My hatred, my curse shall

rsue you still! "

Jie stopped, his eyes glared fiercely yet vacantly round, and then conscious

ss forsook him, and he fell senseless on the floor.

When the landlord entered with coffee, some half-hour afterwards, he found

stranger guest apparently lifeless, and the only surgeon the village could

ast was instantly summo ned by the simple awe-struck Prico ts. On his

rival, he pronounced it a severe attack on the brain, and used his lancet

etty freely before he brought the patient back to any sort of consciousness.

ut, though life and animation returned, reason had fled for ever. Alfred

ofton was a raving mani ac! And when, some few weeks after, the officersjusti ce traced the fugiti ve with some difficulty to that remote village, they

ere cond ucte d to a neighbour ing lunatic as ylum, Avhcre he was con fined till

me clue could be obtained to his identity. Eve n those hardened messengers

the law were seized with horror as they saw the unhappy maniac crouching

a corner, his hand seeking for some thin g at his side, his li steni ng attitude,

speaking the rehearsal in his mind of the fearful crime whi ch he had

mmitted. lie was taken to England, and consigned to one of the asylums

r the insane—his father obtaining permission to take charge of his expenses

d ensure for him such kind treatment as was consistent with his violent form

malady for the remainder of his wretched life.

* * * * * *More than fifty years have passed since the event r elated in our tale, a nd

he children of Sir* Hu gh and La dy Trevor , and those o f M rs. Arb uthn ot,

nce the gay and lovely Minnie de Vesci, have become parents in their turn;

ut the impression made on the minds of the principal actors in the scenes we

ave described never entirely wore away, nor did Minni e ever recover her

ormer vivacity, even when a happy wife and mother. An d never have the

ooms inhabited by the ill-fated Percival been tenanted since withou t theirnmate b eing disturb ed, and i n many instances fai rly dr iven away by the

range noises which no examinati on can tra ce to any visibl e source, andwhich cause many a bold spirit to feel, spite of manly courage and contempt

f "o ld wom an' s" superstition, that quieter rooms, unattended by such

ad associations of the past, arc far preferable to the handsome but ill-omened

uite, once the scene of the tragi c fate of the unf ortunate heir o f theercivals. 1 S. S.

T H E STAR OF LOVE.

There is a star that lights mc onThrough life's tumul tuous sea,

There is a star I gaze up on

That's all the world to me.It beams upon me with its light

Wherever I may roam ;It cheers the dark an d wintry night,

^\nd shines within m y h o m e .

There is a star that o'er me beams,No matte r when or where ;

Its influence o'er me mildly streams

In sorrow, pain, or care ;It cheers me in my lonely hours,

When all is dark an d drear,When s tormy clouds above mc lour,

Or when the sky is clear.

It shines upon my s tony path,

It l ights me on my way,It sheds i ts influence round my hearth,

A n d soothes me with its ray ;It smiles upon me in my dreams,

When s lumbers o'er me cr eep ;Th e darkness flees befor e its beam s—

It lulls my soul to sleep.

Oh, 'tis a star the world knows well ,For all have felt its fires,

If breasts an d hearts would only tell

The feelings it inspires ;Its beams may pierce the midni ght g l oom ,

When all is dark above ,A n d tears may fal l upon our tomb,

Shed by the star of love . F. H.

T H E L A D Y O E T H E F E L L H O U S E .

CHAPT E R X I I I .

Guendolen readied her own apartments, and sank into an easy chair. Th e

emporary excitement of her ride had passed away, and the thought of the

dreams o f happiness w hich we re lost to her for e ver pressed hea vily upon

er heart.

After changing her dress she wandered through the house, for rest seemed

ateful to her. It was near the dinner -hour , and she stood for a short time

n the recess of one of the drawi ng-room windo ws, look ing out upon the

arriages that flitted by , thou gh her thou ghts took no cognisance of what

assed before her eyes. The room was not yet lighted up except by the bright

low of the fire, and Gu endo len was quite in the shade. Sudd enly she

eard voices in the room, and was about to come forth from what might

ppear to be a hiding-pl ace, when the wo rds that struck her ear kept hermotionless.

" I tell y o u , madam, that I will be obeyed ! " The voice was Sir Fredeick's. " It is for me to jud ge what guests I w ill invite to my own t able. "

" Then why not invite him yourself to a bachelor's party ? " replied another

oice, which she recognis ed as Lady Elphinstone's ; " the man's manners arc

o shockingly vulgar. If you like to associate with him yourself, you need

ot compel me to do so."" Ho you dare to dictate to me, madam ? " he exclaimed, seizing her roughly

y the arm, and pinching it until she screamed aloud with the pain. " Silence !

e growled, giving her a violent shake. " W i l l you send that letter of

nvitation to-morrow ? "" Yes, oh, ye s! " she replied, writh ing with agony, " only let go my arm.

Don't hurt me, and I promise to do anything."

" And you will not absent yourself from the dinner table ? " he continued,

without relaxing the torture.

This scene, however, was too much for Guendo len. She stepped from the

window and stood before the astonished eyes of Sir Freder ick. The arch-fiendhimself could hardly have scared him more.

" Coward ! " she exclaimed. " Unmanly cur ! H ow dare you thus oppress

and torture a weak gentle creature like this ? "

Sir Frederick had relaxed his grasp at her first appearance, and shoreceived Lady Elphinstone almost fainting into her arms. " G o hence," saidGuendolen, " the very sight of you is loathsome."

" This is extraordinary langua ge, mada m, to use towards your host andkinsman in his own house," returned Sir Frederick.

Guendolen, still holdi ng Lad y Elphin stone in her arms, who howeve r wasnot so faint but that she heard and understood ev ery wor d that passed,surveyed Sir Frederick with a look of scorn. " My host, " said she, " has beenwell paid for his hospitality ; my kinsman has not acted towards me in a way

to draw closer the ties of kindred ; and as for the master of this house, Idoubt if Sir Frederick Elphinstone could establis h a clai m to it if all h adtheir rights ; and so I tell you again to begone. Yet stay one moment and

listen while I assure this poor trembling child that in me she will always findan able and will ing protector against you r brutality. T am happy in thechance that made me a witness to it ; for, bad as I knew you to be, I could

not imagine you to be so utterly depraved and worthless."

Lady Elphinstone had by this time recovered herself, and gazed withastonishment at the woman who dared to brave the anger of the tyrant beforewhom the who le househol d trembled. Sir Frederick was livid with ra ge,

but he felt himself powe rless to resent her treatment of him. He shook hisclenched hand towards Guendolen, and muttering through his teeth, " A timewill come—a time will come !" he rushed out of the room.

" Yo u have hitherto looked upon me with mistrust and suspicion," saidGuendolen, gently loading Lady Elphinstone to a sofa, and sitting beside her," and I d o not wonder at it, considering the auspices under whic h I wasintroduce d to yo u ; and y ou will ha rdly credit me, perhaps, when I tell youthat my main object in com ing here was to protect yo u from his cruel treat

ment. I knew it long before I saw an instance of it ; but now you havenothing more to fear. If he dares to lay his hand on you again, come to meor send for mc, and I have a talisman that will always subdue him."

"W ha t can it be ?" said Lady Elphinstone."

Do not inquire," replied Guendolen. " I t is hidden in the past; therelet it remain. I know of a wrongf ul deed that he committ ed. It is nota pleasant know ledg e to possess; b ut if I can use it for good, and turn it toyour service, I shall not regret that I hold it. I hear the comp any assembling

for dinner ; come, now, be calm and face your husband boldly."

" O h , I cannot," said the poor la dy ; " I am alw ays so frightened in hispresence."

"Then try to assume a look of courage," said Guendolen, "for his is one of those noble natures that yields to fearless opposition, and tramples only on thehelpless."

There was a muttered curse at the door and a retreating step, which,however, were not heard by Lad y Elph inst one; bu t Gue ndolen repeated t oherself the old adage, " a listener never hears any good of himself."

C H A P T E R X I Y .

For some weeks, Guendol en continued to act as the guardian of La dyElphi nstone 's domesti c peace ; but the more she was admitted into that lady's

confidence, the m ore grieve d was she to discover the influence whic h thetw o Lorim ers had usurped over her. She also found that her friendly

intentions towards the poor lady were frequently frustrated by the m achinationsof the brother and. sister, .t to ok som e time to discover this ; and, if it hadnot been for the antipathy with which the first sight of them had inspired her,

she might never have found it out at all ; for, in accordance with the rules la iddown by Mr . Lorimer , they were both most obsequious in their attentions toher. Guendol en entertained for them the dislike whic h an open and genero usnature always feels for one that is crafty and designing, unless the owner of the latter amiable qualities has the additional recomme ndation of being able

to assume an appearance of honesty whic h is sure to bege t sympath y. PutGuendolen, fortunately starting with a good wholesome antipathy, waspreserved from being deceived by them. She was not naturally suspicious,but, when once aroused, her observation was keen enough . Often did shedetect the meek eyes of Miss Lori mer watchin g her from the corne rs; often,

when she t hought herself alone or with only Sylvia or La dy Elphinstone for

a companion, did she find that Mr. Lorimer had approached, with his cat-likefootstep, and stood close behind her with a question ready on his lips to makeit appear that he had only just arrived in her vicinity.

Th e fact was that they both suspected some mystery in Guendolen's relationswith Sir Frederic k, and as the possession of a secret always confers authori ty

upon the owner , they were anxious to discover what it was. Am ong st otherthings they had found out that Guendolen went out on foot every morning

for about an hour, and the regularity o f this occurrence led them to attach

some importance to it. Guendole n, on these occasions, paid a daily visit to •her aunt, and preferred leaving the house on foot and tak ing a, cab, or walk ingthe whol e distance, to letting even her ow n coachma n or groom know thelocality to which she went, lest Sir Frederi ck should, through them, discoverMrs. Martin's address, and by working on the old woman's family pride,induce her to give up to him the proofs of the marriage. The Lorimers ,however, were not the only persons who had remarked these daily absences.Sir Frederick was too much enamoured to find it an irksome task to be on thowatch for her every movemen t. Once or twice he had followed her, but heinvariably lost her in some crowded street; for she had become very well

acquainted with the western districts of London during her short residence,and having more than once observed that she was watched by Sir Frederick,,she turned and doubled like a hare to prevent the possibility of pursuit.

Sir Frederick resolved to adopt other measures, and Mr. Lorim er wasmuch surprised one morning at receiving a summons to attend the baronet inhis library. It was the first time such a. thing had hap pene d; for the baronet

took no interest in the education o f his son, and cared as little about thoreligious opinions of his wife, who was quite at liberty, as he once told her,to go to heaven or the other place in her own way.

" B e seated, Mr. Lorim er, " said he, when the tutor stood bow ing at th^



56 [May 26, 1860.

door. " I wish, yo u to render me a service in wh ich the h onou r of my family

is concerned."

Sir Frederic k's features were contracted and stern as he said th is ; for his

jealousy of Guendolen was unbounded; but the tutor interpreted the words

and look quite di fferently, and t rembled in his shoes as he thoug ht of the

advances he had made to La dy Elphinstone. He fully expected to hear that

the service he was to render to the honour of the family was to go quietly out

and be shot by the enraged husband. Sir Frederi ck's next words relieved

hi m from this anxiety.

" I prefer intrusting this delicate business t o y ou, Mr. Lorim er, because I

think I may rely upon your discretion and secresy."

Mr. Lorimer bowed and protested his devotion to the family.

" There is a lady in this house over whom I feel myself bound to keep the

watchf ul eye of a father, as she has no male relative more nearly connecte d

with her than myself. I me an, of course, my cousin's widow, Mrs. Elphin

stone ; indeed, her husband confided her to my charge, and I should not fulfil

the duties of my trust if I neglected to protect her from every kind of evil ."

Mr. Lorimer bowed lo w again to hide the smile of satisfaction that struggled

to his face. Sir Frederick, who had hitherto behaved to him with haughtiness,

bordering on contempt, was now treating him as an equal and confiding to him

a secret missi on. T o a man of the tutor's wily character it needed but this

beginning to enable him to render himself speedily necessary to his employer.

" I have been informed," continued Sir Frederick, " that Mrs. Elphinstone

goes out on foot every day, and it is scarcely correct for a lady of her age and

appearance to roam about the streets without protection."

" Mi ght I humbl y suggest, Sir Fred erick ," said the tutor, obsequiously,

" that-it appears the simplest proce eding to question the lady herself upon

the subject. As her guardian she could hardly refuse to give you satisfaction."

This was said with a purpose, for Mr . Lorim er had no faith whatever in

the pretended guardianship, and Sir Frederick's evasive answer confirmed his

disbelief." I have—I have spoken to her," said the baronet, hurriedly, " but she is

very self-willed."

" Has she given no reason for her excu rsions ? " asked the tutor. " Pardon

me , Sir Frederick," he continued, humbly, " for asking you the question ; but

as you have so far honoured mc with your confidence — "u O h ! don't name it, don 't name it," interrupted Sir Frederick, " I shall

be glad of any light you can throw upon the matter either by question,

suggestion, or advice. She said she went to visit a sick perso n; but that of

course, is all nonsense. If she only went to visit some old woman who is ill,

she need not take so muc h care to conceal it. Now , to come to the point at

once. Yo u have a quick keen eye and plenty o f ready wi t; and what I

require of you is this : to-morrow morning before her usual time for going

out, dress yourself in coloured clothes with a handkerchief roun d the lower

part of your face, and a wide-awake."

The tutor looked rather hurt, as though the dignity and respectability of

his cloth would be compromi sed by such a change in his cost ume.

" Tut, tut, man," said Sir Frederick, givi ng him a sly poke in the ribs,

" it is not the first time."

"S ir ! Sir Frederick! " stammered the tutor.Sir Frederick burst into a loud laugh.

" Yo u have a very suitable wide -awak e," he said, " unless you have lost it,

or given it away since last Monday week when I saw you in — . " He

finished the sentence in a whisp er, but that whisper conveyed the name of a

private gambling house.

Mr . Lorimer turned deadly pale, and lean ed speechless against a book-case.

" Do not be cast down about it, man," said the baronet, " I was there

myself; and if I blamed you, it would be the old story of the p ot crying out j

upon the kettle for being black."

"But the difference in our positions," stammered the tutor.

" Tha t is made up by the difference of our luc k; " said the baronet, " you

always win, I always lose. But come now, do you object any longer to

putti ng on the wide-awake for my scrviee ? "

" Indeed, Sir Freder ick, I can make no opposition to any of your wishes. "

" I t is agreed, then, " said the baronet. "To-morrow morning you must

disguise yourself; you wi ll loun ge about the square till my lady comes out,

and tlu3n follow her cautiously, and see where she goes ."

Th e tutor had no choice but to a ccept the not very dignifie d post of spy,

and he retired from Sir Frede rick's presence, partly elated at being taken

into his confidence, partly humiliated at the discovery that he ha d made of

his very unclerical pursuits.

C H A P T E R X V .

As Guendolen was going out on the following morning she was met on the

stairs by little Frank Elphinstone, who had become wonderfully attached

to her,

" Ho w is it you are not at your studies, Frank ? " said she, returning the

child's affectionate caress.

" Oh, I have a holida y," he replied. " M r . Lori mer has gone out. "Will

yo u take me out with you ?—do, dear cousin Guendolen."

" I cannot now, my love," she repli ed; " but when I return, which will be

in a very short time, I will take you out for a ride."

" A n d you won't go round and round that stupid park, will y o u ? " he

said, coaxingly, " nor u p and down Hotten R ow ; but we'll go out amongst

the fields, and hear the l arks. "

" Y e s , we'l l go for a lon g ride into the country, " she repli ed, kissing

him.

" May I order your horse and my pony to be got ready?"

" Not till I come back, love ; there will be time enoug h while I am putting

on my habit."

The de ligh ted boy ran off to tell his nurse, and t o be ready dressed an hour

before the time, and Guendolen went on her way.

A s s h e passed out of the square, where a rou gh- loo kin g man, apparently

half intox icated, was leani ng against the railings, she felt an uncomfortable

sensation that caused her to look in his face. His mouth was nearly covered

by a woollen scarf, and his ha t was drawn over his eyes, which were cast

down ; but what she could see of his face bore a striking resemblance to that

of Mr . Lor ime r. She hastened her steps, and when at the end of the street,

glanced back, under pretence o f looki ng into a shop window. The man

was coming lazily down, with a lu rchi ng, heavy step, and she felt convinced

that she had not been mistaken. She quic kly turned the corner into Oxford

Street, and instead of calling a cab from the ranks she ran to the stand and

jumped into one, hoping by this means to elude her pursuer, if such he might

prove to be. Hastil y givi ng Mrs. Martin's number in Queen's Square, and

bidd ing the man drive quick ly, she drewr

herself back in the cab; but perceiving

through the window that the stranger was jus t gett ing into another at a little

distance, she coun terma nded the order, and was driven instead to the Panthe on

Bazaar. Whi le purchasing some toys and books for Frank, she cast her eyes

furtively around, and once caugh t a glimp se of the same face watching her

over an opposite counter. She could not b e mistaken, those eyes certainly

belonged to Mr . Lor ime r. Carrying her purchases to the cab, she returned

home, and with no companion but the boy was soon threading the green lanes

round Willesden. In the meantime the tutor was closeted with Sir Frederick ;

the story had been told, and Sir Frederick was consulting a blue-book.

" Queen's Square, Queen's Square," he said, half aloud ; "he re it is, Mrs.

Martin . Are you sure you remember the number correctly ? "

" Quite sure, sir," replied Mr. Lorimer.

" I do not know the name," said the baronet, musingly; " w e must find

out somethi ng more about her. I have it. You must call on her in your

clerical capac ity about a subscription for some charity, or to interest her in

some poor famil y. I shall leave that entirely to your own inventi on; but

when once you get a foot ing in the house you must keep it, and if you cannot

gain access to the mistress and make friends with her, you must ingratiateyourself with one of the servants. I be gin to suspect that this Mrs. Martin

is a relative of Mrs. Elphi nston e's ; and if so, some very importan t information

may be obtained from her."

Mr. Lorimer did not feel very highly nattered by being employed to do Sir

Frederick's dirty work; but he knew that the baronet had a rich living in his

gift, the present incumb ent of which was very old. He knew also that a

single word about his gambling propensities would prevent the bishop of the

diocese, to which the said living belonged, from sanctioning his appointment;

so he set himself, with the best grace he could muster, to accomplish the task

that had been allott ed to him. He had no difficulty in discoverin g a poor

family in a most pitiable state of destitution, and for a day or two he ministered

to their wants, that he mig ht establish the character o f a benevolent pastor.

The n h e paid a visi t to Mr s. Martin, tak ing care to select an hour different

from Guen dole n's usual time of disappearance. Mrs. Martin saw so few

visitors that, when she was informed that a gentleman who looked like a

clergyman wished to speak with her, she desired that he should be imme

diatel y ushered into her presence. She was rather religiously inclined, and

a visitor was an event in her monotonous existence. Mr. Lorim er bowed

respectfully as he entered her parlour." Excuse my rising, sir," said the old lady; " I have been laid up for many

months, and am still very infirm. Pray take a chair."

He sat down as desired. " I have heard of your long illness, mada m," he

sai d; " and perhaps a worldly person might consider that having this trouble

of your own to bear, I ought not to intrude the miseries of others upon your

attention, but I trust the chastening has so imp rove d this calamity to you

that your heart may be softened. I have come, in fact, to lay before you the

case of a very poor, but, I sincerely believe, meritorious family, whom I have

assisted to the utmost of my humb le mea ns; but finding them Insufficient, and

having so many other claims upon me amongst the poor, I have ventured to

do for them what I should not have the courage to do for myself, and that is

to beg for them some of the crumbs that fall from the table of the ri ch."

" Are yo u one of the curates o f the parish ? " said Mrs. Martin . " I do not

recollect having seen you ; but I have been confined to the house so long that

they may all have been changed since I went to church last."

" Oh, n o ! " he replied. " I am merely working for love, and with the

humble wish to do what little good I can in my day and generation. I hold

no appoi ntmen t in the church, tho ugh I am in full orders. I am, in fact, only

a poor tutor ; but I spend what li ttle t ime I have at my disposal in seekingout those who are more destitute than myself."

This was said with an air of modesty and candour that completely won the

old lady's heart. She shook him warmly by the hand, and pressed him to

stay and take tea with her. To this he was only too glad to assent, and s o

easily from lon g habit did the assumption of sanctity sit upon him, that

before he left her she looked upon hi m as a perfect saint—him, the spy, the

gambler, the wrould-be seducer, whose black soul, could she have seen into

its recesses would have filled her with horror.

Mrs. Martin was a proud woman, and in many respects a selfish one,

though perhaps not more so than most elderly people arc ; but she was honest

and conscientiously religious, and would have shrunk from Mr. Lorimer's real

character with more loathing than from the most disgusting reptil e. Day

after day his visits were repeated, and each time he made progress in the

design he had in view. That was to bring her over to the doctrines he incul

cated, and when once she was induced to submit to the pernicious practice

Of confession, he had full certainty of obtaining from her the moti ve of

Guendole n's visits, or whatever else his employe r mig ht think it desirable to

obtain from her. Guendo len, unfortunately, had left the field open to him ;

for, little suspecting that he had obtained by bribing her cabman the addresswhich she had at first given, she had thoug ht to baffle Sir Frederick and his

spies by desisting from visiting her aunt so frequently, and commissioning

Mrs. Mayi ield instead to make daily inquiries, and to inform her immediately

if the old lady had a relapse. In the interv al she made a strong effort to



Ma y 26, 1860.] U S E F U L I N F O R M A T I O N A N D A M U S E M E N T . 57

recover her peace of mind, and to shake off the fatal passion she had felt for

Barry Grcvillc.

Little Frank had many hol idays in conseq uence of his tutor's absences, and

these Averc invariably spent wi th his dear cousin Guendolen, as he called her,

in rides into the country. Sylv ia occasionally joi ned them, but this was a

rare event, for Miss Lorimer, fearing the influence which Guendolen mig ht

acquire over the mind of the youn g lady, always threw obstacles in the way

of her joi ning the ridin g parties. As this was done through La dy Elphi n

stone, who vibrated, like a weak-min ded woman as she was, between gratitude

for Guendolen's protec tion, and the suspicion o f her that was instilled into

her mind by the artful insinuations of the Lorimers, Guendolen could not well

bear down the opposition that was offered to her.

CHAPT E R X V I .

One morn ing when Guendolen had risen early, intending to make an

excursion amongst the Surrey hills, and was expect ing every moment t o

hear Frank's light bounding step in the lobby, and his clear laughi ng voice

summoning her to horse, his nurse knocked at the door and told her that she

feared Master Frank would not be able to go out that day, as he had been sick

during the night and complained of a severe headache. He had tried to get

up , she said, but had been obliged to lie down again. Guendolen hastened to

her favourite's room; he lay half dressed upon his bed, hi s face was flushed,

his eyes were bright and glassy, and his breathing rapid.

"W ha t is amiss with you, de ar ?" she said, kneeling b y his bedside, and

taking his hand in hers.

" 1 don't know ," replied the b oy, " m y head aches, and I have been sick,

and I feel so giddy when I stand up. But I shall be all right as soon as I

am on my new pony."

" Y o u must not go out to-day, dear, it would make y ou wors e," said

Guendolen. "P ut him into bed again, Wat son ," she said to the nurse,

" and send immediately for the do ctor ; he is in a hig h fever. Is Lad y

Elphinstone up y e t ? "

" Oh, no, ma'am, she won't be stirring for two hours."

"T he n do not alarm her till we see what the docto r says. Send for him

immedi ately; I will stay by Master Frank while you go ."

Guendolen sighed bitterly as she thoug ht of her first and last experience as

a sick nurse, and while wai ting for the doctor she put into practice many of

the simple rules Avhich Mr. Ell iot had laid down for her. Ho w she wished

she had the kind old doctor by her side at that moment! for she felt more trust

in him than in the fashionable physician whom she expected to see.

In about an hour, the physician came ;—not the formal pedant or palavering,

mealy-mouthed "la dy' s man " Guendolen had by turns depicted him to

herself, but a man of middle age, with a calm, thoughtful face, his hair already

grey, and with a quiet, kind, and self-possessed manner, whi ch inspired

reliance upon his skill. He examined his little patient attentively, and then,

glancing round the room, asked if Lady Elphinstone was aware of his illness.

" N o , oh ! no ," replied Guendolen, " o f course not, or she would be here.

Th e dear child was to have gone out ridin g with me this morning; but, as

the nurse told me he was ill, I would not have his mother disturbed and

alarmed about him until you had seen him."

"T he re is quite sufficient to be alarmed abou t," said the doctor, gravel y.

" I should like to see Lady Elphinstone or Sir Frederick."

Guendolen sent for both. Sir Frederick's valet replied that his master had

been out till late the night before, or rather early in the morning, and had

given strict orders that he should not be disturbed for anything. Lad y

Elphinstone answered the summons immedia tely, havin g slipped on a wrapper

over her nightdress. But her presence was not of much use, for she screamed

arid sobbed till the poor child was frightened out of his wits, and finally went

into hysterics, in which condition she was taken back to her own room, where

the physician attended her till she recovered, and then returned to his younger

patient, whom he fonnd in a warm bath, as he had directed, tenderly supported

by Guendolen.

" Y o u have been very prompt in obeyi ng my direct ions, " he observed. " So

much the bette r. In these cases there is no time to be lost. I will soon

relieve you from your unpleasant duties, mada m," he continued, "b y sending

an experi enced nurse to take care of the child."

"Pr ay send no hireling nurse," replied Guendolen, looking fondly at the

little fellow, who raised his eyes to her face, as thoug h half understanding what

the doc tor said, and mutely asking if she would desert him. " I will take

care of him, and, when my strength fails me, you may find a substitu te; butnot before."

" I think you have more affection for the child than his own mother has,"

said Dr. Lyons. " I must confess that I have little sympathy with ladies

wh o go into hysterics instead of doing their duty."

" D o not blame her," said Guendolen, warml y; "s he is weak—weak in

health and in spirit. She has man y sorrows that the world knows nothing

of, and in addition to all this she is under a baneful influence, whic h makes

her scarcely responsible for her own actions, I might almost say for her o wn

thoughts. I cannot for a mome nt doubt her affection for her child."

"Pr ies t-r idd en? " inquired thcr doctor in a low tone, and glancing round

to sec that Watson was out of car-shot.

" I f you have been in her boudoi r yo u need hardly ask the question,' ' said

Guendolen in the same voice.

" Poor soul! " said Dr. Lyons, " that is a disease which is beyond the ski ll

of all the college of physicians to cure. I wish some mode of treatment

could be discovered for it, for I find an immense amount of misery inflicted

upon many families b y this kind of half perversion. It is infinitely more

dangerous I assure you, than an honest and candid change of reli gion ."

"S he is so unhapp y," said Guendolen, compassionately, "that I cannotwonder at her flying to anything that offers her even the semblance of

consolation."

"Humph! the old story, I suppose," said Dr. Lyons, " disparity of temper

and discrepancy of tastes. In short, any of those excuses which a t ender

hearted and well-nurtured woman invents to avoid saying that her husband

is a brute."

" She never compl ain s," said Guendolen ; " but it is a curious fact that to

all her evening dresses she has twro bodies, one wi th the usual short sleeves,

the other wT

ith sleeves that reach below the elbow."

Th e doctor raised his eyebrows, and looked inquiringly for an explanation.

" I have seen her arms above her elbows blackened with pinches," con

tinued Guendolen, with suppressed emotion. " H o w they came in that con

dition she has never told me, and of course I need not know."

Dr . Lyons uttered a sound be tween a groan and an execrati on, and then

endeavoured to grat ify his curiosity respecting t he lady betwTccn whom and

himself there had suddenly sprung up this confidential conversation. Fromthe first moment that he saw her he had perceived that she was a person of

superior mind and manners ; her behaviour showTed that she was perfectly at

hom e ; but long as he had known the family, he could not divine who she

was, nor what positi on she held in it. .

" If you are resol ved," he said, " to undertake the office of head-nurse, I

will send in the instructions to you. Wil l you therefore favour me with your

name ? "

" Mrs. Elphinston e," replied Guendolen, smiling at the flimsy pretext, which

she at once detected.

"Thank you, thank you ," said Dr. Lyons, " a relation of Sir Frederick's,

I presume, but not a very warm partisan."

" The widow of a distant cousin, that is all," she replied.

Th e doctor heard this with a feeling of satisfaction ; and as he ro lled off

in his carriage some stray thoughts passed through his brain, mingling with

deep considerations on little Frank's case, as to the position which the fair

widow held in Sir Frederick's household, and he felt a hope which he did not

attempt to account for, that further information respecting her would show

that she was almost or wholly dependent upon the rich baronet's bounty.

After his departure Guendol en found a few minutes to pay a visit to LadyElph inst one. To her extreme disgust she found her closeted with her father

confessor. When she knocked at the door there was a short pause, and the

rustling o f a dress before La dy Elphinsto ne's voice invited her to come in .

Mr . Lori mer sat in the confessional chair, his startled penitent was standing

near the window, but the cushion on the floor still bore the impression of

her knees from which its elastic substance was gradually recovering.

" I a m sorry to disturb you, Lady Elphinstone," said Guendolen with a

marked glanc e towards the tell-tal e cushion, " but I tho ught you wou ld be

pleased to know that Frank seems much refreshed by his bath, and is now in

a quiet sleep."

" Oh, how kind, how good you are ! " said Lady Elphinstone, taking

Guendolen's half-reluctant hand, " how can I thank you for your attention to

hi m ? "

" There is nothing to thank me for," said Guendolen, coldly; " I merely

act towrards him as I should if I were his mother."

" I am not so strong nor so clever as yo u, " said Lad y Elphi nstone , ha ng

ing down her head abashed. " I should make a very poor nurse indeed. Do

not blame me, Guendolen."

" I was wron g to blame you , even indi rect ly, " said Guendolen, kissing hergravely on the forehead. " Strength has not b een given to you either to do

good or combat evil. Yo u shall kn ow from time to time how your boy goes

on , and you can come and see him when you feel yourself strong enough to

support the sight without screams or hysterics. But rely upon this, that as

much care shall be taken of him as you would bestow if you had strength to

carry out your wishes."

W i t h a slight h alf scornful gla nce towards Mr . Lori mer, who had be en

standing rather uneasily during her visit, and now hastened to hold the door

as she departed, Guendolen went back to her little charge.

Dr . Lyo ns came again in the afternoon, and looked very serious. "H as

Sir Frederick been to see him ? " he inquired of Guendolen.

" He sent his valet to make inqui ries, " she replied, with a curl of her lip.

" Well , well," replied the doctor , " he will want neit her father nor mother

while you are by him."

C H A P T E R X V I I .

Th e next morning Sir Frederi ck's valet came again to inquire in his

master's name how the chil d was progressing . The answer was less favour

able, and in the afternoon he sent again. As Guendolen took all her meals

by the bedside of her little patient, she wr

as of cours e absent from the dinner-table, and on this, the second time of her non-app earance , Sir Fre deri ck

inquired the cause.

" M r s . Elphinstone has not left Master Frank's room since yesterday

morning, sir," was the reply.

Sir Frederick's paternal affection was aroused in a moment . As soon as

dinner was over he requested to be shown to his son's room, though such a

request, coming from a father's lips, sounded oddly even to his own ears. He

diet not even kno w in what part of the house the little fellow slept! The

servant who conducted him knocked gently at the door ; it was opened by

Watson, who received with a respectful curtsey, the whispe red inte llig ence

that Sir Frederick wras come to see Master Frank. The father entered for the

first time the apartment devoted to his lit tle son, but his thought s were not

much occupied by the child. Guendolen was leani ng over the bed. Wi th

one arm she supported the little sufferer, and with the other hand she was

holding some medicine to his lips.

" Drink it at once, my darling, it will do you good," she said, in a gentle,

coaxing voice.

" It is so nasty," said the boy .

" I know it is, dear, and I woul d glad ly take it for you, if it woul d do youthe same good. So, fancy you are taking it for me, Frank."

She kissed his feverish lip s; the boy looked up to her face and smiled,

feebly, and instantly swallowed the nauseous draught . She laid him gea^*'



58 T H E F A M I L Y H E R A L D — A D O M E S T I C M A G A Z I N E O F [May S6, I860.

back on his pillo w, and arranged the bed-clothes round him comfortably.

Then, turning to resume her seat, she saw Sir Frederick standing behind her.

" l l o w pale you arc, Guendolen!" he whispered, not ill pleased that the

hush of the sick mo m gave him an excuse for approaching close to her while

he spoke , " I understand that you have shut yourself up here for t wo days.

W h y has not Dr. Lyons sent a nurse ? I will not suffer you to sacrifice your

health in this way."

" Dr. Lyons has not sent a nurse, because I would not have one," repliedGuendolen. "I f Frank's illness outlasts my strength, then he may send one,

but not before."

" But, my dear girl, the confinement will kill you."

" Thank you, I am perfectly well, " she replied. " Did you come to see me,

Sir Frederick, or your sick child ? "" Oh ! of course I came to see Frank," he replied, just glancing towards the

bed. " Is he any better this evening ? "

" N o , " she said ; " I fear he is in great danger, though Dr. Lyons declines

to say so."

Th e father seemed little moved by this announcement, but he again

expostulated with Guendolen for letting her roses fade in the atmosphere of a

sick room.

"Then I will take advantage o f your being here," she said, rising, " t o

obtain a little change of air. Nurs e," she said, as she went out, "l et me know

when Sir Frederick is gon e."

She hastened away to her own apartments, but was scarcely there before she

received an intimation that the affectionate father had concluded his visit.

After this, Sir Frederick regularly made his appearance in Frank's room two

or three times a da y; and Guendol en, wit h equal regularit y, made her exit,

unless when the docto r was present, for on those occasions Sir Freder ick himse lf

withdrew very speedily. He felt that Dr. L yons' s keen eyes had detected

his feelings towards Guendolen, and he shrank from their further scrutiny.

A week passed away, and Guendolen consented t o have a nurse to sit up

durin g the n ight, th ough she had a bed made for herself in the chi ld'sroom. Lad y Elphinston e was kept awa y as much as possible, for she i nvariab ly

cried and sobbed so violently that she disturbed the little invalid.

Anoth er week passed by, and the docto r expressed his fears that the child

could not recove r. Sir Fred eric k received the news in silent gloom, the poor

mothe r passed the afternoon in strong hysterics . That night, the doctor

predict ed, woul d decide whether the cr itical turn would be for life or death;

and he promised to come when his day's duties were over, and watc h theprogress of the disease. At about twelve o'clock Lady Elphinstone had been

informed that very little hope could be entertained, for, easily raised as she

was easily depressed, she had made certain that the crisis must be favourable;

and as the chance of Frank's recove ry was but a faint on e, hangi ng, ind eed, only

upon the well-known axiom that while there is life, there is hope, both

Guendolen and the doctor had judged it right to prepare her for the worst.

Between twelve and one, "e'en at turning o' the tide, " Guendo len knelt

by the little white bed on whi ch the boy lay in an uneasy slumber. Her face

was buried in the clothes— perhaps she was prayin g. An d now and then she

raised h er head, and loo ked from the pale face of the little patient to the calm,

self-possessed countenance of the doctor, who saW it the bed' s head, hold ing

the small emaciated hand in his, and feeling the uncertain pulse. The boybreathed hard, and Guendolen started up. The nurse had crept softly to the

foot of the bed, and she turned to her, dreading yet anxious, to hear what the

sound meant.

" Is it," she said, in an eager whisper . " Is it the " Her trem blin g

lip and choking voice refused to complete the sentence.

" No, ma'a m," replied the nurse, " that is not the rattles."

Guendolen laid her head up on the bed again, and a loud sob burst from

her overcharged bosom. A sligh t touch on her shoulder aroused her. Dr.

Lyons put his finger to his lips and point ed to the chil d. He had drawn away

his hand and turned on his side, his face w rore a more placid expression, and

his breathing was calmer and more regular. For a long time they sat in

perfect silence , the falling of a cinder from the grate startled them, and the

closing of a distant door vibrated through Guendolen's nerves like the shock

of an earthquake. In about an hour Frank moved again. His lips were

parted, and the doct or carefully poured a few drops o f wine between them.

He swall owed them, and seemed to wish for mor e. Guendo len pressed t he

doctor's arm, and looked anxiously in his face. He smiled and nodded. She

held her hands tight over her heart to still its joyous beatings, and tried to

rise from her knees, but her strength failed her, and if the nurse had not come

behi nd her she would have fallen. A few spoonfuls of wine quick ly restored

her, and having had the j oyful intelligence confir med by words, she hastened

away to cheer the poor mother's heart with them.

" Take a light, ma'am," suggested the nurse.

" No, no, " replied Guendolen. " I could find my way in the dark, but the

moon is shining."

Guendolen's step was very light, and she wore a morning dress of soft

muslin, which she had adopted in Frank's room lest the rustle of silk or any

stiff material should disturb him . As she passed quick ly throu gh the long

passages and down the stairs her progress was noiseless as that of a moth.

In her haste to impart the joyf ul news, Guendolen did not wait for the

ceremony of knocking at the door of Lady Elphinstone's apartment but opened

it gently, thinking that the unhappy mother might have sobbed herself to sleep,

or if that she had retired to her bedroom and left her maid sitting up, the

latter wou ld certainly be asleep and it wou ld be unnecessary to disturb her.

What was her surprise to find that the sole occupant s of the boud oir were its

mistress and her father confessor! Mr. Lorime r stood near the fire-place with

his back towards the d oor, and Guend olen coul d hardly credit her senses when

she saw that Lady Elphinstone was clasped in his arms and her head reclining

on his bosom.

" Oh, my dear, beautiful boy ! " sobbed the mother, " i f I lose him I shall

never, never be happy again. "

"Le t my love console you for his loss," murmured the hypocrite. " I can

make you happier than he could, for he would be trained up to follow in his

father's footsteps, and he has already shown such a similarity of disposition

that there coul d be no prospect of happiness for you in his future life."

" But I am his mother, Henry, and I love him so dearly."

" My sweetest a ng el! " he replied, " consent to link you r fate with mine,

abando n the ungrateful husband who has so long abandoned yo u, and you will

soon be consoled for the loss of this child, the offspring of a man wh om you

must detest as much as you fear h im ."

"T ha nk Heaven ! " thought Guendolen, "shc,i s not yet lost."

" Come, dearest, there is no time like the present," said the tutor, " no one

in the house suspects that I am here. Come, I know your heart disowns

these scruples."" R u f f i a n ! " thought Guendolen; "while he thinks her child is dy in g! "

Her eye fell for a moment upon the poker, but prudence suggesting the incon

venience of a coroner's inquest, and fortune offering her a better weapon close

at hand in the shape of the large pr ayer- book with heavy clasps and bands of

gilded brass ; she took up the latter, and while with one hand she knocked out

the single wax light, with the other she hurled the book at the t reacherous

priest, inflicting so severe a blow upon the side of his head that he fell

senseless. Lad y Elphinst one shrieked and tried to find tho bell,, while

Guendolen hastily retreated, hoping that her good sense and prudence might

induc e her to hol d her tongue , and not to bring the whole household to witness

the fact of Mr. Lorime r's presence in her apartments at that hour of the

night . As the shriek was not repeated, Guendole n after the lapse of a few

minutes, retrac ed her steps and knock ed at the door. Lady Elphins tone

opened it a little way so as to pr event the visitor who solicited admittance

from seeing into the room.

" Frank is better," said Guendolen, " and I came immediately to tell you."

" O h , thank Heaven! thank He av en !" cried the mother, with unfeigned

delight, though her voice trembled with fear. " Di d you see Sir Frederick as

yo u came here ? "" N o , " was the reply ; " has he been with yo u ? "

" I thought he came to the door just now ," stammered the guilty lady,

" but I am not sure."

" Poo r gir l! " said Guend olen, with unfeigned compassion, " it is no wonder

that yo u look so pale and frightened. Yo u had better go to bed now ; shall

I call up your maid, or shall I assist you myself? "

" No, oh, no, thank you. I do not require any hel p," replied Lady Elphi n

stone, still standing in the gap of the half op en door, " I will come presently

and see the dear child."

" Y o u had better not ," said Guen dol en; "he is asleep, and the slightest

noise might disturb him, and have fatal results. If any other chan ge takes

place I will come to you."

She retreated, and from an angle in the passage watched the do or she had

just quitted.

There had been no movement inside the room while Guendolen stood there,

and she was apprehensive that the blow she had inflicted on that infamous

wolf in sheep's clothing might have been more severe than she had intended.

Her anxiety was naturally very great; not that she would much have regretted

any amount of damage that might have fallen on Mr. Lorimer, but shedreaded for La dy El phins tone's sake, as well as her own , the scandal and

exposu re of a publi c inqui ry. It was terrible, indeed, to reflect that she might

have sent that guilty soul in the midst of his wickedness, shivering into the

presence of his Maker , althoug h her conscience pronoun ced it a clear case of

justifiable hom icid e. But it wasstill worse that the weak and comparatively

innoc ent should suffer for the consequences of his guilt. So she watched and

listened.

In a few minutes t he do or opened noiselessly. Lad y Elphins tone's head

first appeared, lo oki ng caut iously up and down, but she could not see

Guendolen in her hidi ng-pla ce; then the head was withdrawn, and Mr.

Lori mer ca me out with an uns teady step, his right hand holding his head,

and feeling his way with the other . Guendole n saw him stagger a way towar ds

his o wn room s, and then with a soft laugh that had much of triumphant

malice in it, she stole back to the invalid. He was decid edly impro ving, and

the doct or w7as preparing to depart. He took both her hands as he bade her

good-bye, and seemed m oved in a most unprofessional manner, as he assured

her that there now seemed every hope of the child's recovery.

" His mother's gratitude will reward you far more than his father's fees

can do," said Guendolen, looking at him with an affection that was warrantedby the circumstances.

" I shall have all the credit of the cur e," replie d the doctor, "b ut let me

tell you it is as much due to your nursing as to my physic; and yet I shall

have the credit and the profit and the gratitude."

" A n d I, " said Guendolen, " shall have the happiness of seeing the ch ild

recover, for I love him as though he were my own."

" A n d I, " thoug ht the docto r, as he descended the stairs, "shall I have no

drawb ack ? I have recko ned but one side of the question. Pay, credit, and

gratitude; dross which I do not need—fame, of which I have enough—<

gratitude, that will pass away in a day; while that for which I would give

wealth and fame, I see that it is useless to hope for. I shoul d be a fool

indeed to propose to a wom an when I am certain of a refusal. He ig ho ! "

He closed the door behind him and walked hom e; for antici pating that he

might have to remain for an hour or two (nay, perhaps, hoping it; who

know rs ?) he had sent his carriage home, rather than keep his horses and

servant waiting in the night air.

W h e n Sir Frederick returned (for his child's extreme danger had not kept

him away from his usual places of amusement), his valet joyfully announced

that the boy was better. The news, in fact, had spread throug h the household within half an hour after the doctor had p ronou nced his favourable

decision. Fo r the upper housemaid had exacted a promise from the nurse to

let her kno w as soon as anything decisive took place, and she, too happy to



, I860.] U S E F U L I N F O R M A T I O N A N D A M U S E M E N T .

it to herself, had commun icat ed it to anothe r, and so it had passed on

gh the whole circle of the do mestics, and tjiey all rose early and with

d hearts, for the hoy was beloved by every one. Tw o persons only

ath that roof were in ignorance of the joyful event,—Mr. Lorimer and his

. The former, indeed, had been told by the trembli ng mother, as he

her room, that her child was better ; but her words had fallen upon

eding cars, still ringing with the sharp blow inflicted by the hard angles

e prayer-boo k, and even if he heard her he forgot immediately what she

said. And no one felt sufficient sympathy with Miss Lori mer to carry

the news, which the y Avere sure she Avould not think it worth being

d from her sleep to listen to. Lady Elphins tone's maid running in her

-dress into Sylvia's room had found Guendolen already leaning over her,

pering the joyful tidings into her ear. The girl seized Guend olen 's handkissed it.

Forgi ve me the liberty, ma'am ," she said ; " but every body knows that

wing as much to you as to the doctor, and av c are all so fond of Frank."

o u ha d better go to your lady, Stephens," said Guendolen, smilin g

y, and pressing the girl's hand as she dropped it ; " she was much

ted when I went to ' her a few minutes b ack, and she may Avan t

thing."

ephens obeyed, and found her mistress just getting into bed. The door

een the boudoir and bedroom stood open, and as Stephens went to make

he lire in the latter apartment she uttered an exclamation of surprise at

g the large prayer-book lying open upon the fender, Avher e Lady

nstone had not discovered it, for her first im pression be ing that it Avas

nd, armed p rob abl y Avith a stick, whi ch had struck doAvn her confessor,

had not though t of look ing about for a missile. Stephens's exclamat ion

ed her, for her first idea Avas that s h e had discovered Sir Frede rick

ealed in the room, probab ly with the i ntention o f murdering her Avhen

as quiet.

Wha t is it ? Wh at is amiss ? " she exclaimed, in great terror.

t's your large prayer-book, my lady, lying on the fender, Avitb. thes all rumpled up."

dy Elphinstone looked at it and almost fainted; her terror of her

and Avas not hing to what she no w felt, for this Avas the terror of a

y conscience. She recollected that she had not heard the door open, and

o occurred to her that if the blow had been inflicted by Sir Frederick he

d certainly have remained to justify it, and to punish her for her weakness

uilt. Wh o else in the house could feel called upon to inflict punishment

her, or her w o u l d - b e paramour ? Not one of her own servants most

edly, and there were no other men in the house, no visitors, no relations,

r of her own or Sir Freder ick's. She migh t have guessed at Guendolen ,

that that heavy book could have been hurled with so sure and deadly an

by a female hand seemed so utterly impossible, that it precluded even a

entary suspicion. The choice of the weap on, too , the very book whose

pts, while professing to obey them so strictly, she had so flagrantly

d in her conduct. It Avas no mortal hand that had inflicted the chastise

, but what the power Avas she did not dare even to dream of. She desired

hens to replace the book on the reading-desk, and then to leave her. But

ould not sleep. As soon as she closed her eyes aAv fu l figures stood around

bed, pointing , with reproachful gestures, towards the desecrated volume.

uendolen's kind heart ached Avhen she saAv her in the mo rnin g so dow n

and humbled, while every one else in the house, with the exception of Sir

erick and the Lorimers, were rejoicing in the prospect of Frank's restora

to health. It Avas not that the mother did not rejoice, too , but she was

letely overwhelmed by the Av e i g h t of Avhat she considered a supernatural

ation.

uendolen attributed her uneasiness and depression to a belief that it Avas

usband who had struck cIoavii the priest, and knowing that the impression,

gh salutary, would be dispelled as soon as she met Sir Frederick, s h e cared,

for it. But when, after dini ng with her husband, the peculiar awe

k and humble deportmen t only seemed to have increased, Guendolen

n to feel inquisitive, thou gh she did not venture to ask any questions.

Mr. Lorimer she heard casually during tho day that he Avas confined to his

Avith a severe headache.

am not surprised to hear that," thought Guendolen, laughing heartily

erself.

hen Dr. Lyon s paid his even ing visit, howev er, he told her that he had

c another patieut before leaving the house, Mr. Lor ime r; and he came

after visiting him, under the pretence of having something to say about

k but in reality to obtain a few minutes more chat Av i th Guendolen.

made some inquiries concerning his new patient.

He has had a blow on his head," replied Dr. Lyons. " He Avas taking a

down in t he librar y, he says, Avhen a heavy vol ume fell on him with

force as to stun him. It may be a serious matter to him, poor man."

uendolen was amused at the facility with which the reverend gentleman

nted a falsehood to cover the effects of his own evil deeds, at the same

that she felt, now that she Avas perfectly cool, painfully concerne d at the

us nature of the injur y she ha d inflicted on hi m. " I hop e he is not so

h hurt as you suppose, doctor," she said, turning pale.

e doctor noticed her change of colour ; and a pang that was almost like

usy shot through his heart. " A day or two will show ," he replied ; and

added, with a forced attempt at gaiety, " and if you are desirous of exten d

your experience as a sister of charity, here is a good opportunity for you ."

I am much obliged to you," said she, " but I had rather decline the office.

Lorimer is no such favourite of mine that I should undertake to nurse

Avhen there is any other person able to perform the office."

e doctor was puzzled. The aversion expressed, more in the tone than inwords, was so perfectly genuine that there could be no mistake about it.

then, had she turned pale at the possibility of danger to his life ? He

ht guess and guess, and never arrive near the actual truth,

(To b$ continued.)

T H E P A R T I N G T O N P A P E R S ;

B E I N G TH E LIFE, LEC TUR ES, A N D L O V E M A T T E R S O F M RS . PRUDENCE

PARTINGTON, RELICT OF THE H E R O I C CORPORAL , P A U L PAR TINGTON.

MRS. P A R T I N G T O N O N F I R S T L O Y E .

Oh ! mi deers, let mc rush into a periphrasis when I recall the pontaneous

frustration of my fust affliction . Ah ! wot a physician is love ! He is like the

great Giz zard of the north. He no sooner touches one's buzzim with his

wand than an elliptical chang e incurs. The corpo real wras so 'ansom that

Avh e n I fust encounten anced him, my 'art bust into a vigor ous perspiration ;

bu t Avh e n I heard the suite modifications of 'is enunciation, I could no longer

reveal my feelins. He Avalked into our parlour wi th 'is bago'ne ts clatterin gquite militia-like . " A n ' this," ses he, " is a churning paradise, in Avh i ch yo u

collocate yourself. Wa re ," he added, " is your mother, the pitiable abandon ed

reluck ? "

" Mrs. Settle, " ses I, " has stepped out Avith her pardoner to look at the

sight of a new chap ill."

" W o t ! " he cried, with a start, answering the meanin' look I gave him.

" Is she married agin ? Oh, parody ! thy name is Woman."

" Let me exto rt yo u, " sed I, " as a militiary offiscr, to spare my feelins. I,

too ,"— and here my suspiration increased, and the purly tcers fell down my

cameleon che eks ,—" I too am "

" An ang el," sed he, falling on his knees in a capture, seizing my 'and witli

acerbity, and kiveri ng it with blisses. " Oh ! charmi ng bean, do not be

indurable, but say will you be mine ? "

At this contrasting ferment ation let me paws, let m c gather up my censers

and pass my commotio ns in r ev i eAv . A poick 'as sed in an ambulatory poem,

" lie never loves avI IO loves not at fust site." I think this streAv. Lu v enters

by the h ighb rows , and the passidge from the i to the 'art is not very long, at

leust so I am told by medical anatomies. And , my deers, as fust is alway

best, so is fust love. Early expressions is a lways strongest,—ask a copperasplate printer if they are not. It's very faint as comes after. The trubbles and

parboils of after life pull up all feelin' by the roots and quite heradical it ;

and althou gh I w ould not say but that a female may love two or three times

at least, yet the fact is, as I don 't think they Ort to. The second-rate

simpletons of love are not very dangerous nor very deep, and n o woman 'as a

right to marry agin, purvided her first 'as done his dooty and left her

connitable. A woman avI IO marries two or three chimes doesn't give a proper

chance to her sects, and should be extricate d. Indee d, many automatons say

as that love is like measles or scarlet leaver, or hypocondors, and is only to be

cort once. Wh en you 've got it, my deers, make the most of it, and then say

Av i th that great grammaria n, Shakes-speer, " If, sir, your love is tollerable,

your prospects married, send me Avord to-morrow."

It doesn't succum our sects, Avhich is more superfined than the men is, to

be fallin' in love at all 'ours of our life. Gather the rosebuds while you may,

my pretty young punsters, and add to your human implicities by doubling

them.

Remember also that although foolish men phantasy that they get the

best of us, they exaggera te their cares, and multiply their illegal respon

sibilities. A single man is a dangerous sarpint, but when he is married, Av e

take the sting out of him, specially when he has a fam'ly of dorters about him ,

'an then indeed he becomes milder an' less ferocious every day. So it Avas

Av i th my corporea l. But I am exhage rating the process of my natation, and

must therefore exhume.

The corporeal was in the imposition I have vindicated, Avhen, Avho should

reproach with a quick step but the Helder. He cort site of us thru' the

Avinder, and his casual orgins extended A v i t h rage. " Ho ! " h e shouted, A v h e n

he entered the compartment, "is this the way you expo rt yourself in my

abstinence, you intricate hussey ! Is this the Avay yo u dare to behave under

the sacred Avoof of a systematical Helder ! "

I was congealed Av i th fear. My 'air stood on end with conflagrat ion. Hi s

Avords were as bitter as lunar coarsestick, but my brave corpore al didn 't stir

from his previous disposition, and still 'eld my 'and.

The Helder pretty nigh busted with depletion . " Oh, you ordacious extri-

cator," cried he ; " dare you still to kneel before that belated and mi sguided

female ? "

" I will not rise," sed the corporeal, " t i l l she gives me leaf to befriend

her. Dearest, will you be mine ? "The Held er advanced Avith a retrograde moti on, and in a threatened alti

tude, just as, merely to save the corp oreal, I shrieked out " Ye s. " The

militiary hero sprang at once to his feat, and kctching me in his left arm, with

the other struck out such a blow at the Held er, as quite proscribed him on

the floor. Mi poor ma', Mrs. Settle as Avas , rushed i n just in time to see the

upshot of her poor chest-fallen h usband, and my hero a standin over him

like Collossal of Ro ads ! Oh what a site Avas there ! Her physicka l system

guv way; her i 's rolled, and a fit o f lunary contra vened as she roared o ut,

"Save him I save hi m! " _

(10 be continued.)

F A R E W E L L !

Farewell to thee, f a r ewe l l !Th e word is spoken n o w

W h i c h sh ipwrecks all m y dearest hopes ,

An d clouds with gr ie f m y b r o w .I could have w e p t less bitt er t ears

Upon t hy youthfu l b ie r ;On e thought w o u l d then have solaced me—

Th e thought that thou wert near.Bu t no !—both thou and I still live

To ponde r o'er the p ast ;To think what thou hast b e e n t o me—

To k n o w it cannot last.

Farewell to thee, farewellTh e l ove that di d out l ive

Al l coldness and indifterence

Ha s nothing left to give.I w o u l d not have thee think

That I 've fo rgo t ten theeR e m e m b e r , oh remember

That such ca n never be.I k n o w this w e i g h t of weariness

There's nothing can d i s p e l ;An d all that 's left for mc to say

Is, farewell!—oh, farewell!E . M . H ,



60 T H E F A M I L Y H E R A L D — A D O M E S T I C M A G A Z I N E O F [May-26, I860.

N O T I C E . — T h e T I T L E AN D CONTENTS of

V O L. X V I I . are now ready. Price O N E P E N N Y .

T O C O R R E S P O N D E N T S .

T H E L A D I E S ' W E S T - E N D P E R M A N E N T B A Z A A R A N D

INDUSTRIAL ASSOCIATION. — Our a t tent ion is c on

tinually bei ng called to some pett y huck ster ing b it

of swindling, pract ised chiefly upon those who are

thems elves in need, and want of aid, and wh o, h o w ever deep ly they may be injured, are the least like ly

to be able to punish their deceivers. But we advise

our Correspondents to exercis e increased pat ience

under pressure of circumstances, and increased cau

tio n in endea vouring t o esca pe f rom them. This

advice we would especial ly g i ve with reference to a

recent and cruel decept ion pract ised upon man y p o o r

ladies who have ende avoured to assist themselves by

the exerc ise of the i r o w n talents. A pret ende d " West-

End Permanent Bazaar and Industr ial Associa t ion"

is establishe d. A prosp ectu s and first repor t are print ed

and issue d; certain j ingles upon aristocratic names

are placed as the "Ladie s ' Committe e," whic h is

headed by an " Honourabl e Mrs. ," wh o does not

exi st ; a lady-superintendent , and a lady-secretary are

appar ently chose n, and an active male secretary and

treasurer bring up the rear of th is deceptive regiment.

In cal l ing himself "a ct i ve, " the secretary told the onlytruth. All the rest appears to have been fiction—the

instru ction in various branche s of art, <fec, at charges

vary ing from one to three guineas, the disposing of

the work , and the virtuous indigna tion for the wr ong s

of needle women which is professed at the c o m m e n c e men t of the pape r. But of the ac tivity of the secre

tary there is no doubt . He was active en oug h to send

out his circulars to all the papers, to spread them far

an d wi de , to recei ve the sub script ions for pre limin aryinstruct ions, and to run away with the proceeds.

What with postage stamps and post-office orders, and

specimens of wor k sent, he appe ars to have been

" active " enough. He was—and here l ies our re gr et -

active enoug h to lay asleep the wa tchfuln ess of th e

w h o l e Lon don press, a nd to ind uce us all to believ e

that the " institution " was bond fide ; we being all the

more ready to t h i nk so, because we know that an

institution of the so rt c ou l d be ma de to wor k advan

tageously to many. But w e have been deceiv ed; others

have cruelly suffered ; and we kn ow of hardly any

term s whic h we can appl y to mark our strong ind igna

t ion o f the base and cowardly cheat wh o has perpetrated

the mischief. Of course the "a ct iv e" secretary is no

longer to be foun d, the treasurer has decamp ed with

th e " t reasury, " an d the ' ins t i tut ion is closed ; but the

wro ng whi ch is done to 'charity, th e long and wear y

waitin g, and graduall y awakeni ng to sense, the con

sciousness of bei ng deceive d, and the c ruel injury don e

to helpless females, afar off and unable to right the m

selves, is not c l o s e d ; nor, if we ever have an oppo r

tuni ty, is our account with the "Lad ies ' Perma nent

Indust r ia l Bazaar " and its secretary.

E. M. W.—E ver y huma n bei ng is mo re or less selfish. It ,

is a law of our nature. In c hildhood wc are voracious

over f o o d ; in matur i ty wTe make love th e object of our

intense anxi ety ; in old age we have a crav ing for care \

a nd attention. Of the latter description of selfishness j

w e have an apt illustration bef ore us. Our mothe rless

Correspondent is her father's housekeeper, and he wil l

no t allow her to mingl e in so ciety , especially if she is

l ikely to be introdu ced to youn g gentleme n. Being

upwards of twenty-one, she kee nly feels the isolat ion

of her posi t ion. An d very na tu r a l ; for what is life

without a l i t t le sunshine and congenial sympa thy?

Th e heart requires exer cise as well as the b o d y an d

brain, and to keep a daughte r unde r stronge r restraintthan a salaried servant is noth ing but domes tic

tyran ny, whic h in time either dries up the m ost

genero us emotions, or pro vokes a violent opposi t ion to

th e harsh parental discipl ine, fol lowed too often by a

hasty, ill-advised marria ge, and its who le train of pri

vat ions and sorrows. A good deal is said, and mu ch

mor e written ab out the difficulties respec table girls

have in finding suitable husba nds. Her e is one of the

causes. Widow ers not wishin g to marry again keep

their daughters chained to the domestic hearth as

servants, and thus l imit the i r know ledg e of the outerw o r l d to the gossip of elderly people , and what they

obtain f rom books . Such con duc t is one of the lo west

forms of selfishness, and shows luow narrow and sus

picious some people may be, even in what they t h i nk

may be the i r affections. Wc wou ld advise E. M. W. to

seek the mediat ion of som e spirited, sensible, midd le-

aged mar ried female relative. Assid uous persuasion

will soften the hardest na tures ; and as mos t aged

men l ike quiet , the continual pra t t l ing of a wise

woman's tongue rarely fails to shake their obstinacy,

a ud then the y ma y be easily wo und ro und the finger

o f duty.

F. M . S. P.—Wher e yo u wish to pa y a mark of respe ct

b e y o n d what is merely conventional , you arc quite

right to rise from your seat whe n you are introduced

to a gentleman; but in a general way it is not required,

nor is it necessary to do so upo n shaking ha nds wit h a

. gent lema n on his departure . The surface of socie ty

shoul d b e kep t as quiet a nd unruffled as possible, and

good breeding always avoids eccentric i ty by simply

"doing at R o m e what Rom e doe s ." Mi\ Howard

Payne was the author of '' H o m e , sweet home ! " whi ch

original ly was intr oduc ed into his opera of " Clari, or

the Maid of Milan ," bro ught out at Drury La ne Theatre.

The music was by Sir Ile nry Bishop. So great was

the populari ty of this charming song that one hundred

thousand copies of it wer e sold in less than two years,

yielding the publisher a profit of £2,000.

H E - H E M !—(What a singular nom de plume for a lady!)

asks whether we t h i nk it po ssible for a real unselfish

friendshi p to exist be twe en tw o females. —We do ; b ut

o n l y unde r special condition s. In the first place the y

must be young, unsophist icated, a nd have a number of

sympathies in c o m m o n ; in the second, there must be

nothing be tween them to excite rivalry or jeal ousy ;

neither mus t one of them exhibit a mental superiori ty

over the other, for that is a quali ty which wome n,

whether youn g or old, wil l only conscientiously

acknowledge to exist in men. Female friendships

most ly spring out of sudden impuls es, and as such are

any mo me nt liable to be bro ken. The y ma y be ba sed

cm mut ua l esteem and a taci t admission of equali ty;

but when onc e that is interfere d with by marriage and

the influence of new circu mstances, the del icate chord

snaps, and a new life for each begins, in which selfish

ness is one of the sustaining elem ents. It is a pre t ty

sight to see tw o yo ung girl s wal king in a garde n wi th

" the i r arms ro und abo ut each other th rown ; " but let

them plu nge into del icate confidences , especial ly loveones, and compar isons wil l be evoked from tho depths

of thought , and each wil l l ook forward to her own par

ticular path in life, an d nurse sentiments whol ly i nc om

patible with girlish friendship. Besid es, it is well

k n o w n that with both sexe s the friendships of youth

are rarely those of matur i ty or old age. Inevitab le

separation and w ide ly distinc t destinies create sensa

t ions w hich ov erwh elm those of youth, or so we aken

t h e m that they are only remembered in those hours of

thought ful rela xation in whic h the soul in mela nch oly

meditat ion l ooks bac k on itself. Still youthfu l friend

ships may survive for a long t ime, if it we re possible

fo r his or her individual s tandard of e xcellence not to

be brought into col l i sion wi th that of the ot her.

A N UNLUCKY ONE, who writes a complimentary letterupo n our article " Good Luc k and Bad Luck," again

seeks the oracle to kno w whether w e do, or do not

believe in luck. We presum ed that our sentimentswere sufficiently transparent, our ideas on the c on

trove rted subj ect sufficiently expli cit. We are ready

to own that man y things may turn out contrary to a

man 's wishes ; that circumstances may crush a genius,

na y that one may be l ice nsed to sign himself "u n

luc ky ; " but he -is not really so unless he s ucc umb .

The weak are unluc ky, and vice versa. The man who

is drowned whe n he folds his arms and sinks is

called unfortuna te ; but he wh o str ikes out and saves

himself is lu cky ; yet plainly fortun e is here, as she is

everywhere, on the side of exert ion. The circumstances

of a man's birth, his count ry, his parents, his heig ht,

and the c o l ou r of his c o m p l e x i o n , are beyond his

con t ro l ; but his health, wealth, s t rength, honesty, and

dishon esty, his cheerfulne ss or surliness, and a

thousand other matters whic h go to make up " luck, "

l ie in his own power. Let A N UNLUCKY ON E sti l l

perseve re in the rig ht cause, and if he does not achieve

success, he wall at least deserve it; and he will be a

dozen t imes more wort hy than the one who simply

depends upon the "ac cid ent of a chance," i f there

inde ed be such a thing. The longe r we live in the

w o r l d the mo re are wc convinced of the value o f self-

dependence.

P R E D E S T I N A T I O N . — W e none of us kn ow who is predesti

nated or who is not. Ave arc bidde n to wo rk ou t our

salvation wit h fear and trembl ing ; we are told to have

hope and l o v e ; to search the Scriptur es; and also that

whosoever c o m e s in faith and truth shall in nowise be

cast out. All these comfo rtable texts, beside s the

wondrous kindness, grace, love , and po wer of God, are

surely sufficient to medita te up on, without our strivin g

to compre hend the al l-mysterious. Read Bishop Cople-

stonc's Enquiry into the Doctrine of Necessity ami Pre-

destination ; and his Remarks upon the Objections madeto certain Passages in the same ; a work l ooke d upon by

all deep reasoner s as one of the mo st profound and

convincing treatises upon any branch of Christian

Ethics.

J. C.—Study Ty t ier 's Elements of General History, Goldsmith 's Histories of Greece and, Rome ; Moore ' s History of Ireland; Bancroft 's History of the United Stales; or

Allen's History of the American Revolution. There is no

good condens ed history of Fra nce ; to unders tandFrenc h history, you must read separate works

written upo n the event s of any single porti on, such as

Mignet 's History of the French Revolution, <fcc.

M I L L Y A . — A l l a matter of fancy : but in order that it

may not be omitted, most people habi tua te themselves

to place the i r residence and date of letter at the top

of the page. When this is done, and the party to

w h o m th e letter is addressed has removed, or cannot

be found, then th e letter is re turned to the w riter

thro ugh the Dead Letter Office.

F. S Y R I N G A . — A fingerlet is probably a provincial ex

pression. It is unk no wn to us, but most likely is

equivalent to fingerling, a finger-stall. ' Fingermete is an

obsolete word , deno ting a finger's brea dth ; perhap s

Jlngerlet may be a corruption of that. The context wil l

tell.—Pic-co-lom-ee-nee.

Y O U N G B I D S T O N . — T o address a lady in a public par k in

the way proposed, without a previous introduction,

w o u l d be a solecism in good breeding, which any lady

w o u l d resent by quitting the seat at once. It must at

least ha ve the sanction of som e slight previo us recog

nit ion.

V I O L E T T E .— T h e Bermudas are low, and subjec t to viole nt

gales in wi nte r; other wise the climate is mil d and

healthy. Natal is a pla ce bett er fitted for a yo un g

couple determined to put their shoulde rs to the wheel,

and is already rising into importa nce as an agriculturalc o l ony .

G E R T R U D E .— T h e orbits of come ts are as well kno wn and

defined as the orbits of the sun a nd m oon . Yourfriend is very silly.

L U C I E . — " W h e n w o m e n sue, they so sue to be denie d,"

* says one poet, whilst our great Epic sajT

s our c o m m o n

mother in Paradise "would be wooe d , and not un

soug ht be won ." To be forward is both u nmaide nly

and unwise, and sure to end in disappoi ntmen t.

T r L i r . — John Harr ison, a native of Foul by , in Yorkshire,

was the invent or of the ch rono met er in 1730, and

received the Gover nment reward o f £20,000 for the

inven tion. He d ied in 1770. He was a worki ng

mechan ic, and a self-taught man.

CREST.—Being entitled to arms docs no t c o m p e l you to

use the m ; but if you use old family plate with the

crest, or ol d seals, &c., you arc liable to the duty, as

that is "usi ng arms," within the meaning of the

statute.

P Y R A M U S A N D TIIISBE.—Take warning b y the consequences of disobedien ce as illustrated in the deaths of

Pyramus and Thisbo. Confide all to your parents. The

step you propose can only lead to misery.

A N A N X I O U S P A R E N T . — T h e prop erty of an intestate is

equally divided amongst the brothers and sisters ; the

childr en of a d ecease d brother or sister dividing theirparent 's port ion, share an d share alike.

BlTUMENIZED PlPES AN D PAPER T lLES . — 111 reply to

several Cor respon dents, these inventions., arc by

M . Jalourcau, of Paris. The agent for England is

Mr. Joske , 07, Mark La ne, E . C.

F L I N C H W I N G .— T h e hostess will proba bly save him the

troubl e b y pointi ng out the scat. It would be an act

ot ill-breedi ng to mangl e the jo in t; better plead

ignoran ce by far.

E . J . — T o put gly cer ine into soap spoils both articles.

Th e only way to use glyce rine as a cosmet ic is in the

form of glycerine je l ly . Sco the recipe in No. 783.

FL O D . — I s better suited for trade than for teaching, and

possesses deter minat ion of purpose. No one is so well

suited to advise as your father; be guided by him.A G R I C U L T U R E .— G u a n o affords the best nouri shme nt to

plants. It may be put on to the soil dry, or mixed

with water.

Miss S.—Being so recently invented, we think it better

to await exp erie nce as to its merits .

R O S A L . — P h i l o c o m e is the bes t dres sing for the hair to

make it bright and glossy. See N o. 780.

O T H E R C O M M U N I C A T I O N S R E C E I V E D . — C . B. R . — G . W . A«

— L I Z Z I E . — M A T T H E W . — J. O . — P E N N A . — M . L . W . —

F . P . — I I . — B E T A (decl ined with thanks ) .— KAT E H .

(a comp lica ted case ; consult a solicitor).—SUSAN M .

(it will probabl y make no difference ; not necessary to

ment ion i t ) .— W. T. L. (legally bound) .—D. F. (apply

' to S. Walcot , Esq., Secretary to the Emigra tion Com

missioners, 8, Park Street, Westminster).—F. S. C( no) .

— V I O L E T .— ( n o t quite up to BETTY'S standard ; good) .

— G . W . M . (you are joint-tenan ts, and the notic e must

be the act of a l l ) . — H E N R Y (very improp er, and if per

sisted in can only lead to misery) .—FANNIE (ask his

intentio ns ; it is leap-year ) .—MAGNA C H A R T A (see reply

to C R A I G in N o. 870 ; and t o A . Y. X . in No. SS3).—E . S. (such marriages being mostly matters of expedi

ency, intima te friends can only prope rly appreciate and

g i ve counsel upon t hem ) . — B A T T E N S.(thank s; at present

fully su pplied) . — A M Y M . H . (a s light recognit i on;

very good) . — A N UNHAPPY ON E (your eng agement

gives yo u full licence to ask him a bout i t ) . — I V O R Y (no,

not in a friendly way ; and if sanctione d, she should

consult his wi she s ) .—A P O O R W I D O W (app ly at the

Admiral ty, Whitehall). — W . J. C. D. (the coloured

primul a mean s consolat ion ; want ing in steadiness and

perseverance) .—SARDANAPALUS (read the article on the

Civil Service in No. SS0).—GUARDIAN (any qualified

pract i t ioner in your own ne ighbourhood) .—E. A. R.

(apply to the Secretary of the Ladies' College, 17,

B edford Square).—F. M . (fit for Maggie's album) .—

C H A S . K . K . (wa it f or the ce nsus of 1801 ; at present ,

but things may settle d o w n differently).—A Biaoiix

F L O W E R (give him the p hoto grap h ; leave the other to

Time, whom the poet calls the devourer of all things,

to make a meal of) .—A. W . (Mr. Ferguson, King's

College Hosp ital ; to Dr. Gull, St Thomas 's Hospita l).

— M A R Y ( som e have the title in their own right, and

others arc calle d so out of courtesy) .—WILLIAM'S SISTER

(try an advertisement in Galignani's Messenger; Mitchell

and Co. , Red Lion Court, Fleet Street).—J. R. L>.

(consult a surgeon ; see reply to ROSEBUD in N o. 872).

—G . R . P . (he is one of the simpleto ns with whic h thow o r l d a bounds) .—A. P . O ' M . (you would have to pass

an exam ina t ion) .— BL ACK TULIP (to see again • goodb y e ! yes, unless with p. female friend).—CUPID (your

o w n c o m m o n sense mus t supply the a nswer).— E F F I E

SUNSHINE (their consumm ate impudence in sending

such a note was rightly resented) .—LALLAH ROOKH

(the riddle can only be solved by yourself). - E L L E N G .

( B E T T Y is not to be caught) .—MAD-CAP G I R L (do not

play wit h fire for fear of burni ng your fingers, so wait

awhile). GUILLAUME T. (we never tell tales out of

s c h o o l ) .— V I N C E N T D. (not yet ripe enough for print).—

S E N E X (yes ; apply to Mr. Goodm an, b ookselle r, 407,

Strand, W . C . ) . — MA D A L I N E (consult some b o o k on the

sub ject ; there are several, from Is. 2d. upwar ds).—

M . A. F . W. (sec Boswell's Pigeons, Arc, Is. 2d. free).—S. I I . (see Nos. 520 and 070) .—B. C. (the one you are

with). —T. M. U . (see Nos . 110 and 2 0 4 ) .— H E N R Y O.

(see No. 854).—A NOVICE (see Nos. 200, 334, and 388).

— G E O R G E (see No. 8 0 8 ) . — G U E N D O L E N (sec Nos. 350 and

304) .—FAIR N E L L I E (see N os. 090 and 883) .—RAVEN'S

F E A T H E R (see No. 780).—W. P. O. (see No. 81) .—BOB

(send 2d. for No. 079).—H. C. B. ( see No . 712).

CONTRIBUTIONS T H A N K F U L L Y D E C L I N E D , AN D L I F T ATTH E PUBLISHING OFFICE : — A Village R ecord.—Memory.By W. H. C—Snowball ing.—The Young Music Teacher.

—A Short Tale. By A. C. M.—Two Articles " On

Gardening." By H. H. — A Tale without a Tit le.

B y E . C. D



61

FAMILY HERALD.

KING COTTON.

any modern philosophers maintain that Central India was the cradle of

uman race ; if so, the hyp othesis that our Scandinavian" ancestors origi

came from Persia w oul d appear to be well grounded. It is howev er

putable that civilisation has flowed from the east to the west in one

oken cont inuity, and the process is still going on. One of the most

ng evidences of this law of Nature is the history of the cotton tree,

enous to India, whose product has accomp anied man in all his migrations

ward; and the plant itself has been cultivated in almost every congenial

The E gyptia ns, Greeks, Romans, and Ar abs were all a cquainted with

se of cotton clot hing ; and it is not a little singular that our ancestors, the

c British, wh o are ignorantly represented as living in savage nudity, had

wo rd cotton nearly in its present form in their vocabulary. So that,

e observed in our article in No, 5 5 6 , " Young as the cotton trade is in

an d, the use of cotton clothi ng is of immemori al antiquity. Hero dotus ,

ather of history, who lived B . C . five hundred years, describes it in his

a, ox third book, as ' a certain wild tree, that grows wool instead of fruit,

in beauty and quality exceeds that of sheep, and the Indians make their

ing from these trees.' At that time cot ton was unkno wn to Americ a,

America to Europe."

otton is now one of the necessities of the world ; it clothes the inhabitants

very clime; and its influence upo n human progress a nd destinies is of

nding importanc e. W e firmly believe that it will ultimately lead to the

ncipation of the negro . Dr. Livin gston e found it cultivated and manu

red into cloth in regions in Africa which probably had never before been

ed by wh te men, and Dr. Krapf, and the missionaries of Rabba i Mpia,

heeastern

coast of Africa,

found it indigenous and plentiful inthatity. Al l that is wanted is to stimulate trade by opening to the

k man channels for his industry, so that in the course of time he may

rceptibly be conducted to a condition which will enable him to acquire a

wledge of his value, and a full appreciation of the blessings of freedom.

not, however, our purpose to dwell on this part of the questio n—we may

o on some future occasion—but rather to invite attention to cotton as an

entary agent in human development, especially in relation to our beloved

here is a class in this country, at both ends of the social system, who ,

her they have received honours at a university or in the pugi listi c

are still the same, one and entire, uniq ue, who talk a good deal of the

od old times," and opprobriously rail at manufacturing industry and

rprise. The one affects a contemp t for what i t with ridicu lous super

usness styles a "cotton lord"—by the way, few of its members object to

owing money from a "cotton lord," or marrying a poor cadet of a noble

e to a cotton heiress—the other th rough indispositi on to labou r, or

rance of the principles that regulate trade and com merce , indulge s in

ulations that could only fitly be applied to the veriest tyrant that ever

ed the earth. But while King Cotton despises the one, and makes it onehe instruments of his honourable ambition, he pities the other, and

avours by slow and sure means to lift it out of the pove rty and

ness in to which it has been plunged by unhappy circumstances.

h proud confidence—for he disdains to argue wit h either of his detractors

asks, " Wh at am I ? what have I done ? and what hav e I reason ably

mised to do ? Alt houg h I do not sit on a ' throne of royal state,' in

aric fashion, I wield a sceptre inferior to none ever waved over mankind ,

that of the divine la w of life and love. Wh at am I ? and what have I

? I came from the East—the land of profound mystery and wasting misery

d now my chief home is in the West; partly on a continent rescued from

tomb of oblivion by Europea n genius and enterprise, and partly on an

d upon whose dominions the sun of the universe never sets. A century

I was an experimen t—now I am a fact. " In this style we might proceed

"the crack of d o o m " without arriving at a satisfactory period; so let us

ce at some of the most salient features of our subject, and im part to each

ction its most characteristic ill ustration.

bout the middle of the last century a solitary bale of cotton was

rted into Liverp ool, as a samp le; the Cu stom-H ouse authorities

not know what to do with it, as it was not on the list of entriesduty', so it was ignominiously thrust into a dark corner of a

ed wareho use. A few years later, several bags of cott on arrived at

same port, and found their way to Manchester, where they met with

respect; and this was the humble origin of the cotton manufactures

he kingdom. Let those among our readers who delight to feed their

inations with strong contrasts, think of that solitary contemptuously

ed bale of cotton, broug ht to E ngland from South Carolina, and then,

rapid transition, turn their attention to the present. Undenia ble statistics

m us that in this year, 1 8 6 0 , half-a-millio n persons are emplo yed in the

on manufactures of Great Britain, and upwards o f four millions, directly

indirectly, are dependent on the cotton trade for their means of subsistence.

ashire is the chief seat of this enormous business. One century ago its

lation was 3 0 0 , 0 0 0 ; now it contains, or will next year, 2 , 5 0 0 , 0 0 0 . This

t increase has occurred in the comparatively small compass of three-

ters of a century, and is entirely due to the d evelopme nt of the cot ton

ufacture. In 1 8 5 8 there were in the United Kingdom 2 , 3 0 0 factories,

ing 3 6 , 0 0 0 , 0 0 0 spindles, by 100,000-horse powe r. The amount of capital

sted in it is estimated to be £ 6 0 , 0 0 0 , 0 0 0 . Th e quantity of cotton imported

England in 1 8 5 9 was 1 , 1 8 1 , 8 0 0 , 0 0 0 lbs. The total number of bales was9,110, of which no less than 2 , 0 8 6 , 3 4 1 were furnished from Ame ric a;

is, out of every seven pounds re ceived in Englan d, five came from the

ed States. India furnished 5 0 0 , 0 0 0 bal es— " alas! what a falling off wai

there!"—India once supplied all Europe and Asia; for the cause of this falling

off read our article in No. 5 5 6 . Egypt supplied 1JOO,000 ; South America,

1 2 4 , 0 0 0 ; and about 8 , 0 0 0 bales came from various other countries. The value

of manufactured cotton goods sent from Great Britain is enormou s. In 1 8 5 9

it amounted to £ 4 7 , 9 2 0 , 0 0 0 . Th e hom e consumptio n of cotton manufactures

was not less than £ 4 0 , 0 0 0 , 0 0 0 . Thus, to use a commercial phrase, no less than

considerably more than a tenth part of the national debt was " turned o v e r "

in this countr y in one branch of capital an d industry alone in one year. These

" b e brave figures," as Fluell en would have said, but t hey are also brave and

incontr overtib le facts. Th e seed sown by that humble South Carolinian

sample has been followed by the extraordinary crop of whic h we give some

idea in figures tr umpet -tongu ed.

But the power of King Cotton must be measured by a higher standard. It

is undoubted that the c otto n manufactures laid the foundations of our supe

riority in machi nery. As the markets of the world became gradually opened

to the national enterprise, the dema nd becam e so great that genius, cased in

that noble panoply which no envious lance or assassin bullet can pierce,

entered the field to endeavo ur to discover the means to comply with it. The

water-power of Lancashire, although abundant, was found to be insufficient,

and steam was introduced; but then steam, which now bridges oceans, was

found insufficient without adequate material upon which to employ its

strength. The necessity was urge nt; and the ag e of mechani cal invention

and new adaptations of previous discoveries bega n in earnest. Arkwright led

the van ; and from his time to ours there has been an incessant and indomi

table mental and physic al activity in the ric h labour- groun d of mechanic al

science. Th e appliances and exigen cies of cotton-f actorie s nursed other

suggestions made " a long time ago, " which ultimately, thanks to the national

character for daring, enterprise, and intrep idity, resulted in a grand employ

ment of a motiv e p ower wh ich had been known for ages, but never used for

practical o r beneficial purposes. It was though t if steam could drive the

machinery of a cotton mill, it could prope l a ship witho ut any assistance fro m

" rude Bor ea s" through the water. Th e experimen t was tried, and, as we all

know, with magnificen t success. Then came its application to land trave lling ;

and in tw enty years the surface o f the whol e kin gdo m was covere d with a

net-work of railways—and all owing t o cotton, which just set this particular

stone of improv ement roll ing, and keeps it movin g every year at an accelerated

speed. And if we extend the range o f observat ion to those material details

more visible to the ordinary percepti on, we find that cotton made Liverpool

the first seaport in the world for its foreign trade; Manchester, the capital

of the northern countie s; indeed the whole of Lancashire. It extended its

vivifying influence to the adjoi ning count ies of Derb y, Chester, and York,

and he nce to Notti ngha m and Lei ces ter ; in short, created dense, powerful ,

and prosperous communi ties with a rapidity wit hout even an app roxima te

example on this side of the Atl antic. Al l these things have had a wonderful

effect on the whole empire. In despite of awful wars, bad government , rash

speculations, politi cal agitations, and numerous failures of harvests, the hin ge

of our national industry has never been suffered to grow rusty. The wealth

and popul ation o f the countr y have steadily increased, education has advanced,

morals have improved , and all chiefly thro ugh cotto n and those kind red

means of devel opment whic h will rea dily sugges t themselves to the mind of

the patient student of what he beholds around him.

Take a higher position, and we discover that by our cotton and other

manufactures centralising large masses of the peopl e, they have not only

physical ly strengthened the co untry for defence against any f oe, but opened up

to the mind stores of intellectual wealth wh olly out of the reach of a thinly

scattered populati on. Mu ch declamat ion has been expended on the principles

of centralisation, as if it were possi ble to igno re the circumstance that it is

the basis of all prog ress. Trad e and comm erce are centralisations of labour,

capital, and intelligence; even the arts and sciences and literature are but

accumulations br ought from every mental region to a common fund. J oint

stock compan ies are centralisat ions o f money , and they have given us canals,

docks, bridg es, banks, railways, and a host of other undertakings, all forming

a grand corpor ation for the devel opmen t of the nation al resources, the

promot ion of the national welfare , and the establish ment of a mig hty present

out of which a firm and magnificent future may proudly spring.

Th e cry again st it therefore is absurd, for witho ut it we should have no

Govern ment, no laws, no advances, but only a bundl e of vague incongruitie s,

which in time would devour each other, much after the fashion of the renowned

Kilk enny cats. Ki ng Cotton, howev er, quietly disposes of all false pretences

and dishonest specialities by showi ng what he has done, is doing, and intendsto d o. He has created large cities, and th ey are the very life-blood

of civilisation. Great communities are self-educating; their very vastness

necessitates a different tone of thou ght from that found in hamlets and villages.

Th e nature of the various employ ments demands a hig h degree of intelligence,

which by its diffusion destroys all rus tic ity -of manner and character, and

infuses into the whole body purity of feeling and consciousness of self-

dependence, without which neither nations nor individuals can ever hope to be

thriving and happy. Take Manchester, for example. Throug h cotton, it has

attained to colossal dimensions, and contains within its bosom a middle class

which originally sprang from the ranks of poverty, and now does its

utmost to root out every vestige of povert y. An d the same may be said

of the whol e of the middle classes, who throu gh trade, commerce, and

manufactures, led by cotton, have been called into e xistence duri ng the

past century. And gainsay it who will— and such a sentiment could only

proceed from ignorance—th ese middle classes are the backbo ne of

the empire. We l l may Kin g Cotton be pr oud of the army of peace

which he was so instrumental in form ing ; an army eminent for its

Christian virtues, its philan thropy and unflaggin g energy. Our social system,

under the inspiration of the example of* the mid dle classes, is withou t a paralleleither in ancient o r modern times. Wh il e it does not tolerate any insipid

abnegation , either in mo rals or politics, it is pregnant with influences that

fight against evils and calamities unseen, except by the ey e of the philos opher.



02 T H E F A M I L Y H E K A L D — A D O M E S T I C M A G A Z I N E O F [May 20, 1800.

So that the spirit of Engl ish society is at once conservative and progressive,

and the middl e classes hold the balance between the prejudices and traditions

of one class and the passions of another.

One of the agents i t employs with the latter is popular education—a move

ment which unquestion ably commenc ed in the c otton manufacturing districts

of Engl and. Here we have another instance of the incalcula ble value of

large congregation s of peopl e. Educat ion became a necessity, both in a moral

and ph ysical sense, to the empl oyed as well as to the empl oyers, and the

latter found the means for obtaining the supply. Before Parliament deemed

national education wort hy of its consideration, all our large towns teemed

with schools supported by voluntary contributi ons; religion lent a strong

helping hand to the good work, and the results obtained were so astonishing,

that the executive could no longe r decently refuse assistance; and now it isa scandal and a disgrace for any one under thirty years of age to be ignorant

of the mechanical departments of knowledg e.

It may therefore fairly, and in all earnestness, be admitted that through

cotton taking the lead in our manufactures, it has been the means of

effecting such a revolution in English society, that its pulsations are felt

throughout the habitable globe. And viewing the whole subject from every

point, whethe r material, moral , or intellectual, it is unquestionable that, after

food, cotton must rank among the greatest blessings ever bestowed upon

manki nd by the Creato r.

T H E M A I D EN A N D T H E F L O W E R S .

TH E M A I D E N .

Fragrant flowers, ye are w e l c o m e

In th e golden time of year,L o n g delaying, l ong expec ted ,

Soon the summer will be here !Call you hear my muri uur' d praises ?

Can you see my l ooks of love ?

Tell me, tell me, will you teach meWhat you speak f rom Heaven above?

Tell me, can I share your pleasures,Playmate wit h ye of the May ?

Will you freely then receive m e ?

Say, ye smi l ing flowers, say !

TH E L I L Y .

Love ly sister flower, accept me,

Take me in thy gentle hand ;Innocence with snow-whi te garments

Holds us in her holy band !

TH E V I O L E T .

A c c e p t me, for a holy l ight

Dwel l s within thine ey e of blue,

Swee t as m y fragrance are the thoug htsOf th y m i n d so pure and true.

T HE R O S E .

C hoose me, I will truly teach thee

Ho w to guard thy virtuous name,Chastely to preserve thy beauty

Free f rom sor row an d from shame.

T HE O R A N G E B L OSSOM.

As a bride, fair maiden, Weave m eIn a chaplet for thy hair ;e th e pe r fume and the b l o s s o m sE m b l e m to thee bright and fair.

TH E M A I D E N .

Ever thus with love surround me,

With a love I w o u l d repay ;

Spring or summer, autumn, winter,Thus fo r ever will be Ma y !

P E N N A .

B

F A M I L Y M A T T E R S .

Say nothin g, do nothing , which a mot her woul d not approve, and y ou are

on the certain road to happiness.

Many a true heart that would have come back like a dove to the ark, afterr

its first"transgression, has been frightened beyo nd recall by the savag e conductof an unforgiving spirit.

W O R K S OF FICTION.—Speaking as I now am of reading, I may embrace

the opportu nity of interjecting a single sentence as to a class of works about

which much diversity of opini on prevail s—I allude to wor ks of fiction.

Perhaps it ma y be aske d—Are those wor ks of any utility in the process of

intellectual culture ? To such a question I unhe sitatingly reply in the affirma

tive. A healthy, well-b alanced , well-educa ted mi nd will derive much benefit

from their perusal. It is obvio us that the imagina tion, in the same way as

our other intellectual faculties, needs a systematic training. It is when

reason, imagination, and emotion are properly and harmoniously developed,

under the guidance o f a resolute and determined will, that the true idea of

manho od steps forth realised in actual form. All self-culture, then, is

defective, that does not comprise the training of the imagin ative faculty.

Rea d cons equently some works of fiction.—Self-Culture, by the REV. J O H N

J E F F R E Y .

As TO M A R R I A G E . — N o w and then a disappointed man undertakes to

" make a dig est " of this popular subject; and thus writes on the subject in

which we are all (prospective ly, presently, or retrospecti vely) somewhatinterested : " Marriage is by no means a necessary sequent to love; for the

Fren ch well say, those who are ' always in l ove ' are ' never married.'

Juven ile gra nd passions are exceedi ngly fleeting, and the Spanish saying is a

right true one, that 'boys' love is water in a sieve.' Nevertheless, the

Germans assert that ' early marriage is long love.' It may be so ; and, as the

Spaniard says, ' the bacon o f Paradise for the married "man who does no t

repent.' H ow seldom this celestial flitch will be gra nted may be guessed

from the saying, ' Bache lor, a peacock; betrothed, a lion; married, an ass.'

The Dutchman tells you that, ' whoso is tired of happy days, let him take a

wife,' and thus chimes in with the lines of an old play-writ er, ' Wh en I am

weary of the world, I'll take a wife to mortify withal. ' But if, as Thackera y

says, no man will accept the expe rience of another in this matter, nor be

frightened by the warning advice, ' Before you marry, reflect, for it is a knot

ditficult to untie ; ' at least be cautious, and i before you marry have a house

to live in, fields to till, and vines to cut.' "

A REMEDY FOR BILIOUSNESS.—A correspondent has sent us the following

recipe for biliousness, when attended with spasms, liatulency, sickness, and

pain in the side : — " French brandy, half a pint; cinnamon, pounded, half an

ounce; nutmeg, grated, half an ounce ; quinine, ten grain s; lump sugar, twoounces. Dissolve the sugar in a very little warm water. Dose, a table-spoonful

every morni ng fasting, also when the spasms come on, and it will soon give

relief." Hal f a drachm of carbonate of soda taken in a wine-glassful of infu

sion of rhubarb, every night, is also an excellen t remedy.

S C I E N T I F I C A N D U S E F U L .

A German in New York has invented a p hotog raphi c process by which

portraits can be transferred to porcelain.

The Bessemer process of making steel directly from cast iron has been

introduce d into Sweden and Franc e, and great confidence is expressed in its

final success and general adoption.

High water on tke Thames at London bridge takes place at the moment

whe n it is lo w water at the mou th of the river, the surface of the water at

London bei ng forty feet above its lev el at the German Ocean at the same

time.

An extraordinary contrivance for transmitting sound to very large distances

has just be en presented to the Acad emy of Sciences by the Abbe Laborde.

As the action of the e lectric fluid may be transmitted to any distance, it

follows that, if proper ly modified and improve d, the apparatus may enable

persons in Paris to hear a tune played in Londo n, or even at St. Petersburg.

BLACK-BONED F O W L S . — M r . It. Temple , of British Hon duras, has just

brought to this country six black-boned fowls; they ma y be seen in the

Zoological Gardens.

THE LITTLE MODEL MAKER.— Prom the same country that gave birth to

Frobe l, the founder jjf the Children's Educational Gardens, comes now " The

Little Model Maker ," a most ingenious exercise for youth, consisting of

plans on cardboa rd of various desig ns, such as a water- mill, a farrier's shop, a

farm yard, soldiers' camp, Swiss cottage, models illustrating real life,

animals, &c. Thus children may be entertained and instructed for hours

together without fatigue. The y are to be had at Mr. Myers 's German

Warehouse, Leadenhall Street, E. C .

CENTRAL HEAT OF THE E A R T H . — T h e rate of increase of heat is equal to

1° of Fahrenheit for every 45 feet of descent. Look ing to the result of such

a rate of increase, it is easy to see that at 7,290 feet from the surface the heat

will reach 212 °, the boiling point of water. At 25,500 feet it will melt lea d;

at 7 miles it will maintain a glowing red heat; at 21 miles melt go ld ; at 74

miles cast iron ; at 97 miles soften iro n; and at 100 miles from the surface all

will be fluid as wa ter, a mass of seething and boilin g rock in a perpetua lly

molten state, doomed possibly never to be cooled or crystallised. The

heat here will exceed any with which man is acquainted ; it will exceed the

heat of the electric spark, or the effect of a continued voltaic current. Th e

heat which melts platina as if it were wax is as ice to it. Could we visually

observe its effects, our intellect woul d afford no means of measuring its

intensity. Here is the region of perpetual fire, the source of earthquake and

volcanic power.— Recreative Science. (Sec also, Nos. 728 and 777.)

OIL, F A T , W A X .

Oils, fats, and wax, all belong to the animal and vegetable kingdoms.

Fats proper form about the twentieth of the weight o f a healthy animal.

Oil, fat, and w ax are of analogous composit ion, though they differ in

texture. Oils and fats are easily, separated into two greasy bodies, one veryliquid, the other quite solid; the liquid is termed Oleine, the solid is called

Stearine. In winter olive oil partially con geal s; the solid is the stearine, and

the fluid is the oleine. The art of making hard candles consists in separating

the solid stearine from the liquid oleine of fats. Castor oil contains little or

no stearine, but palm oil is nearly all stearine ; hence the former is useless to

the candle maker, but the latter very valuable. Butter contains sixty parts of

oleine, and forty of stearine, in ever y hundred parts by wei ght ; hence it is a

good representative of what is denominated fat; that is, a body of a texture

between oleine— oil, and stearine—wax.

Nea rly ev ery kind of oil and every sort of animal fat differs in the relative

proportion of stearine and oleine which they contain. The most beautiful

specimen of stearine is spermaceti—the solid fat of the wh al e; and the most

perfect exa mple of oleine is that expressed from the pestachio nut.

The chemistry of oils, fats, and waxes is of extraordinary interest; hence

they have been subjects of special study by several philosophe rs. Cheveural,

a Fre nch chemist, has distinguished himself in this particular, and it is in

consequence of his discoveries that we n ow have such excellent hard candles

at a moderate pric e; and the day is not far distant when tallow will be as

little know n and re membered as its old companion the tin der-bo x is at present.The making of fats and oils into soap is purely a chemical operation, but of

immense domestic value. It is difficult to mention the chemistry of fats and

oils withou t be comi ng involve d in a discussion that would fill volumes; we

cannot, how ever, pass unnoticed one of the pro ximate elements of fat and oil,

called glycerine, a peculiar sweet pri nciple, a sort of white syrup, which can

be separated from oil and fat. No cosmetic has perhaps been so justly and

generally emplo yed as glycer ine, whic h is obtained by steam distillation

from fat or oil.

Oil has been used as food from the most remote period, as is evide nt by its

frequent mention in the Scriptures : " Cakes and oil,—unleavened bread and

oil,—me at and oil, —win e and oil,—no thing in the house save a pot of oi l."

In I taly, the land o f the olive tree, oil is there consumed as food, even more

extensively than butter is in this country. The Africans use the palm oil and

various other kinds, n ow first made know n to us through D r. Kr apf s travels,

in the same manner. Plato, Fernelius, Diosc orides, and nearly all the ancient

writers speak favourably of oil in a medicinal sense, observing that it renders

the body " prompt and agil e." Every kind of fat of animals bears with it a

peculiar odour of the creature from when ce it is derive d ; so also every kind

of oil , and oils are as numerous as the plants of the earth, bears with it somepeculiar characteristic smell or quality. Oil is just ly considered as one of the

most universally useful things of the whole worl d. Ho w beautifully was this

typified, when the dove, after the deluge, returned to the ark bearing in it^

beak an olive leaf! S. P,



63

S T A T I S T I C S .

Th e transatlantic steamers alone, from Liverpool and other ports, are

ated to consume 700,000 tons of coal per annum.

John Ludwig, a Revolutionary soldier, has died in New "Washington, aged

pwards of 113 years. A negro is just reported to have died in Georgia, aged

0 years.

At Manchester and its environs a motive steam power equal to 1,200,000

orses is constantly maintained; to support which are consumed 30,000 tons

coal per day, or 9,500,000 tons a year.

Th e pearl fishery in Ceylon has been so successful of late that th e addition

the revenue in a fortnight was £35,732. In one day the contents of theoats sold for £6,960, at an averag'e of £13 per 1000.

Every year there is floated down the- Mississippi at least 250,000 feet of

ne timber, and the quantity will increase with the demand, since the supply

so great that it cannot be exhausted with the present generation.

The marriages in England in 1859 were considerably in excess of the

marriages in the four previous vears. ' The numbers were 167,900 in 1859,

56,207 in 1858, 159,097 in 1857, 159,337 in 1856, and 152,113 in 1855.

Th e sum expended for the maintenance and repair of the buildings and

urniture of the Palace of Westminster, since its occupation, is £65,210. 9s. 4d .

he lighting and ventilating, since those services came under the management

f the Office of Works and Public Buildings, have absorbed £87,068. Is. Id.

TH E ST RE NGT H OF GRE AT BRI T A I N . — T he British regimental establish

ment for 1860-61, of all ranks, numbers 144,148; and the effectives of all

anks 133,962. The return of the Indian establishment for 1860-61 is 83,585 ;

nd elfectives (India), 94,829. The total number of embodied militia is

9,333. T o this we may add the volunteer corps of the kingdom, which

ow form an effective force of 124,000 riflemen, and 14,000 artillerymen.

POST-OFFICE STATISTICS.—The business of the Post-Office is carried on by

staff of 24,802 persons, of whom 1,500 belong to the Chief Office in London,

nd 3,300 to the Lon don District. Durin g 1859 the number of offices wa s

ncreased by 177, making the present number 11,412; of which 825 are head

ost-offices, and 10,587 sub-post-offices. T o these must be added 1,958 road

etter-boxes, 790 of which were put up last year. Tims the whole number of

ublic receptacles for letters is now 13,370, as compared with 4,518 before the

stablishment of penny postage. Th e distance over which mails are now

onveyed daily within the United Kingdom is 140,000 miles; of which 35,604

re performed by railways; 32,936 by coaches, omnibuses, and carts; 2,817

y steam-packets; and 68,964 by foot postmen. The number of letters

delivered in 1859 was, in England, 446 millions, or 22 to each-person; in

reland, 47 millions, or 7 to eaeli person ; and in Scotland, 52 millions, or 16

o each perso n; being a total in the United Kingdom of 545 millions, or 18to

each person. The number of money-orders issued during the past year was

6,969,108, representing an amount of £13,250,930, and yielding a "profit of

£29,115. The unclaimed money-orders amounted last year to £2,013.

COALS, CINJJERS, AN D C U L M . — T h e total number of tons of coals, cinders,

and culm shipped at the several ports of England, Scotland, and Ireland toother ports of the United Kingdom in 1859 was 10,107,833, of Avhich

9,913,595 tons were coal, 45,991 tons cinders, and 148,247 tons culm, being

an increase of 582,022 tons ov^r the year 1858. The total quantity of coals,

cinders, and culm exported in T859 was 7,006,949 tons, the declared value of

which was £3,270,013. In addition to the above, 75,080 tons of patent fuel,

valued at £45, 266 , were also exported from the United Kingdom. Of the

above quantities France took from us 1,391,009 tons of coals, &c.; Denmark,

462,620 tons ; the Hanseatic towns, 528,916 tons; Spain and the Canaries,

430,888 tons; Prussia, 393,962 tons; Italy, 368,134 ton s; Russia, 347,414

ons; Holland, 298,263 ton s; Turkey , 218,574 tons ; the United States, 204,516

ons ; Sweden, 180,220 tons ; Malta, 179,076 tons ; British Territories in the

East Indies, 164,630 tons; British North American colonies, 114,050 tons;

Brazil, 145,323 ton s; foreign West Indies, 151,05 4 ton s; and the British

West Indies, 99,421 tons, the rest being divided among every quarter of the

globe in greater or lesser quantity. During the year 1859 4,509, 946 tons of

oals were brought to the port of London, viz., 3,299,170 tons coastways, an d

1,210,776 by inland navigation and land carriage, an increase of 30,036 tons

over the previous year of 1858.

V A R I E T I E S .

Ten thousand pounds has been voted by the Metropolitan Board of Works

or deodorising the Thames.

The Guarantee Fund for the International Exhibition of 1862 is in a fair

way of rapid complet ion. The amount now reaches £20 7,0 00.

The directors of the Great Eastern have at length finally arranged for tho

first trip," which, it is announced, will take place from Southampton to Ne w

York on the 9th of June.

The Irish exodus this season—if the reports are not exaggerated—is likely

o be as marvellous in its extent as that which followed upon the terrible

amine of 1846-47. The provincial papers teem with the subject, and the

armers have taken the alarm at the almost certain prospect of a scarcity of

abourers, and the consequent enhanced price of labour.

M A R R I A G E OF N E A R R E L A T I V E S . — T h e Ohio legislature has been passing

ome laws on this subject; and if one-half is true that has been affirmed in

egard to the effect of cousins intermarrying, it would seem as if it were the

duty of parents and guardians to interfere, and even of all state legislatures to

do what can well be done to prevent so injurious a custom. It is said that in

viassachusetts out of 17 families formed by the marriage of cousins there

were 95 children; and in Ohio, in 873 such families, there were 3,900

children. It would thus seem that the average number of children ia not

diminished by such intermarriages, the Massachusetts statistics giving 5 1

children to each such marriage. But out of these 95 children 44 were idiots,

12 scrofulous, and only 37 in tolerable health; while in Ohio 2,490 ou t of

3,900 were either intellectually or physically defective. In all families some

of th e children will be more or less defective ; and were careful records made,

the proporti on o f perfectly healthy children would be found smaller than most

imagine. But 44 idiots "out of 95 children is a proportion, if true, sufficient

to startle any one, and to demand some vigoro us remedy. The records and

inquiries of insane and idiotic asylums might throw much further light upon

this subject. In one case of double cousins, nine children—all there were—-

were idiots of low grade. Enough then may be demonstrated to make al l

sensible cousins abstain from marrying , Families, like the opening leaves of

a flower, are formed not to grow together, bu t apart. Friends and guardians,

and all who have the confidence of the young, ministers an d medical attend

ants, should bear such facts in mind, and exert the full measure of their

intelligence and influence to prevent such unions.

N A N A SAHIR, THE OUTCAST.—Nana Sahib, whose name will ever be con

spicuous in the annals of crime, as the personification of perfidy and cruelty,

was the adopted son of Bajee Row, th e Peishwa, or head of the ancient

Mahratta confederacy. In the year 1818, while at peace with the British

Government, th e Peishwa ha d endeavoured, by an act of the basest treachery,

to destroy Mr. Mountstuarc Elphinstone, the Resident at his Court; but the

assault wras gallantly repelled, and he, was obliged to fly from his capital

at Poonah, and was hunted through the country for several months by Sir

John Malcolm. His pow rer was finally crushed at the battle of Kirkee. Bu t

just at the period when he was brought to bay, and must have surrendered at

discretion, he was admitted to terms, and by an act of reckless prodigality

endowed with an annuity of £90, 000. This provision he lived to enjoy for

thirty-two years, and after having received from the British Government a

sum exceeding tw o millions and a half sterling, died at Bithoor, aboutsixteen miles above Cawnpore, which ha d been assigned as the place of his

residence. Of these accumulations he bequeathed a large portion to his

adopted son, Nana Sahib, who had the assurance to demand the continuance

of the pension. I t was, as a matter of course, refused, and from that time he

conceived the most bitter hostility to the English. His feelings were how

ever artfully dissembled, and he freely associated with and gave entertain

ments to the European community at Cawnpore, by whom he was regarded as

a liberal and enlightened native nobleman. Whe n the spirit of disaffection

first appeared among the native troops at Cawnpore, the Nana manifested th e

most friendly disposition towards Sir Hugh Wheeler, and at his request

afforded ev ery assistance for the safeguard of our treasury, which remained

^for several days under the protection of 60 0 of his men and twro of his guns.

Bu t no sooner had the Sepoys at Cawnpore broken into open mutiny and

obtained th e ascendancy, than he threw off the mask and took the lead of the

hostile movement. Havin g obtained the larger share of the plunder of the

treasury, and persuaded the mutineers to place themselves under his command ,

he proclaimed himself Peishw ra, and raised th e far-famed national Mahratta

standard.—MARSHMAN'S Life of Sir Henry Havelock.

THE R I D D L E R .

Hark, hark! Si r Henry calls his dogs ,T h e y bound thro' the valleys f ree ;

He gladly mounts his courser bold ,

An d he calls that courser—MC.

T h e y spring along, o'er hill, o'er dale,

An d there starts from yonder le a

A noble deer ; at the w e i l d o v e d sight,

Al l th e hound s full loudly—ME.

T h e y chase him high, they chase him low,

An d at length o'er take ; but see !

He b o w s his head, he points hi s horns,

An d so he keeps hi s foes at—ME.

IGMA.

The scene is changed, ' tis autumn t ime ,Russet leaves b e d e c k each tree ;

The husbandmen at harvest arc,

An d they s t o w their corn i n— ME .

Bu t list ! a minute gun ! s o m e bark

Is tossed on the f o a m y se a ;

Assistance g i v e n ! th e crew is saved,

An d th e ship rides safe i n— ME .

No w lest I tire, adieu ! still b u t

Fo r a t ime I h o p e ' twill b e ;A l t h o u g h such rhjmies as these, I fear,

Will ne'er gain a wreath of—ME. G. G,

In th e dead of the night the tapers burnbright,

More glare f rom the g l o o m they b o r r o w ,

Loud voices peal forth in tr iumphal ode,Or chant a wail o f s o r r o w ;

An d wit h perf ume of spices my sacred first

Is sung for th e deeds of the m o r r o w .

That self-same nigh t, whe n the pal lid m o o nHa d half her nightl y course reckon 'd,

A man stepp'd out f rom his humble h o m e ,As i f by s o m e spir it b e c k o n ' d ;

S o m e spir it had prom pted him sure to l ook

out

On his cot and my nour ishing second.

The m o r r o w rose dark, for a heavy hand

Was over field an d c i ty ,

The streets and the pastures ran red with

gore ,

A shriek replaced th e di t ty ;

Fo r m y whole came d o w n l ike a tempest of

fire,

An d shut the gates of pi ty ! O M E G A ,

REBUS.

An ancient city, an d a warlike king, I And then a tree ; a famous r iver next .That to subjection did that c i ty br ing ; Th ' initials j o in ' d , a garment you ' l l unfold;

An d then an island named in sacred text ; | Both sexes wore th e same in days o f old.

R. M.

ARITHMETICAL QUESTIONS.

1. A lady bought a quantity o f flannel, w h i c h she dis t r ibuted among some poorw o m e n ; the first rece ived t w o yards, the second four yards, and so on. The lot

cost her ii") 14s. 2 | d . H o w ma ny w o m e n were there and

what did the lady pay p e r yard ? C. Ci. B .

'J. S uppo se S00 ston es plac ed in a straight line a yard distant

f rom each other, and a basket placed a yard from th e first, h o w

many miles must a person go if lie brings them singly into, th e

basket, and starts f rom the place where the basket stands ?

ITTIS.

3. Given the quadrant A B C, (as per margin, ) w h o s e sides

each = 200, to find the diameters of the inscribed circles 0 D O

w h i c h touch each other, and the sides and arc of the quadrant.

Sent by G U I L L A U M K ,



T H E F A M I L Y H E R A L D . [May 20, 1800.

R A N D O M R E A D I N G S ,

What axles on a railroad train are most likely to be broken ?—The tender

axles.

Th e man who throws blacking-bottles at squalling cats pays a tribute to

the Mews.

Th e lash that man does no t object to having laid on his shoulder—the eye -

lash of a pretty girl.

A practical joker ought to be the best of auctioneers—judging by his success

in selling his friends.

Some author tells us that "much, is said about the tongue." True, itis in everybody's mouth.

" How is the market, neighbour ? "•—•" Very quiet."—" Anything doing in

cheese ? " — " No t a mite."

Th e diiference betwe en an oyster and a chicken is, that one is best just out

of the shell, and the other isn't.

Th e boy who was caught looking into the future has been arrested for

trying to see the show without paying.

A n Irish sailor once visited a city, where he said they " copper-bottomed

the tops of their houses with sheet lead."

A sentimental chap intends to petition parliament for a grant to improve

the channels of affection, so that henceforth the " course of true love may run

smooth."

" A n d so you have married a Mr. Pe nn y!" said a gentleman to a lady of

his acquaintance.u N o — M r . Pence."—" Ah, yo u have done better than I

thought"

" Sare," said a Frenchman wishing to display his knowledge of the English

language, " did it rain to-morrow ? " — " Y e s , sare," was the equally bombasticreply, "yes, sare, it vos ."

An Irishman took off his coat to show a terrible wound which he said he

had received a few years before. Not being able, however, to find the wound,

he suddenly remembered that it was his "brother Bill's arm."

A witness, on entering the box, had a Testament presented to h im, but he

declined to be sworn. Bein g asked his reasons for refusing, he naively

replied : " I'll tell a lie wi' ony mon i' England, but I'll not swear to it."

A six-year-older going into the village without leave was shouted after by

one of the masters, who inquired where he was going. " I am going to buy

a ha'porth of nails, sir."—"What f o r ? " — " F o r a ha'penny, sir," was the

reply.

" Wonderful things are done now-a-days," said Mr. Timmi ns; "the doctor

has given Flack's bo y a new lip from his cheek."—"Ah," said his wife,"

" many's the time I have known a pair taken from mine, and no very painful

operation either."

" I don't like to play forfeits," said Jemima, " and have all the fellows

kissing mo—it makes me common property."—" Nothing is common which

is dear," meekly responded Charles; "an d deer are all private property

according to law."

As proof of the fact that girls are useful articles, and that the world could

not very well ge t along without them, a late writer states it as a fact, that if

all the girls were driven out of the world, in one generation, the boys would

all go out after them.

A sailor, a giant of known bravery, who was in a boat at the siege of

Copenhagen, kept down his head while a shot was flying over the boat. " For

shame ; hold up your head!" thundered the officer in the stern.—" I will,

sir, when there's room for it," was the laughing response.

A new-married lady, who, as in duty bound, was very fond of her husband,

notwithstanding his extreme ugliness of person, once sai$ to a witty friend,

" What do you think ? My husband has laid out fifty guineas for a large

baboon on purpose to please me! "— "T h e dear little man ! " cried the other.

" Well , it's just like him."

Thomson, the poet, author of the " Castle of Indolence," was so extremely

indolent, that half his mornings were spent in bed. Dr. Burney having called

on hi m one day at two o'clock, expressed surprise at finding hi m still there,and asked hi m how he came to lie so long ? — " Ecod, mon, because I had no

mot-tive to rise," was his sole answer.— Malone's Life.

A worthy Scotch couple, when asked ho w their son had broken down so

early in life, gave the following explanation : " When we began life together

we worked hard, and lived upon po rridge and such like, gradually adding to

our comforts as our means improved, until we were able at length to dine off

a bit of roast meat, and sometimes a boilt chuckle (chicken); but as for Jack,

our son, he worked backward, and began with the chuckie first."

W h e n Mr . Harris of Salisbury made his first speech in the House of

Commons, Charles Townshend asked, with an affected surprise, who he was ?

H e had never seen him before. " Ah! you must at least have heard of him,"

was the reply. " That's the celebrated Mr . Harris of Salisbury, who has

written a very ingenious book on grammar, and another on virtue.''' —" What

then brings hi m here ?" said Mr . Townshend. " I am sure he will neither

find the one nor the other in the House of Commons."

A N O LD S A W R E N E W E D .

Ma n to the plough,

Wife to the s o w ,

B oy to the flail,

Girl to the pail,

A n d y o u r rents will be netted !

But man, tally h o !Miss, piano,

B o y , Gree k and Lati n,

Wife, silk and satin,

An d you' l l soon be gazetted.

H o w TO A V O I D DROWNING.—Alwa)% keep your head above water.

" N o M O R E ON THAT H E A D . " — W h y is a busy barber like a telegraphic

wire ?—Because he runs from poll to poll.

T H E B E S T P R O M O T E R OF DIGESTION.—Laughing after dinner is a better

" stomachic " to promote digestion, than cheese, champagne, or pills.

A N I N N SCENE.—Ol d Party (very naturally excited): Wh y , confound

y o u ! Yo u are wiping my plate with your handkerchief!—Waiter (blandly):

It's of no consequence, sir; it's only a dirty one.—Punch.

P R E C O C I O U S S H R E W D N E S S . — " My child, take those eggs to the shop, and

if yo u can't ge t ninepence a dozen bring them back." Jemmy went as

directed, and came back again, saying: " Mother, let me alone for a trade;

they all tried to get 'em for a shilling, but I screwed 'em to ninepence.H

A C O N S I D E R A T E H U S B A N D . — " My little angel," asks the husband of his

wife, in a railroad carriage, " are you comfortable in your corner ? " — " Very

much so, thank you, dear."—"You don't feel the c o l d ? " — " N o t at all."—

" T h e door c loses well?"—"Very well , thank . you . "—"We l l , then, come

and change places with me.".

A N I N H U M A N O R D E R . — A captain of a rifle company, wh o shall be

nameless, was, we regret to say, guilty of an unheard-of piece of barbarity

the other day—the day, too, being one of the coldest we have had of late.

H e actually marched his men to the very brink of the canal, and then coolly

commanded them to "fall in."

O N E OF THE IRRESISTIBLES. — Anamboo, an African prince, visiting

England , received so many attentions from a celebrated belle of London, that, in

a moment of tenderness, he could not refrain from laying his hand nvpon his

heart and exclaiming, " Oh, madam, if Heaven had only made you a negress,

yo u would have been irresistible!"

T H E T E S T OF G O O D M A N N E R S . — " Maister," said an old Scotch servant,

" whether it's gude manners when a gentleman gives you a glass o' whuskey,

to tak' a drop or drink aff the haill o' t ? " Th e master having in homely

phrase judiciously replied to this poser that the courtesy consisted, in

imbibing the whole, the man exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, " Then, Gude

be thankit, I was mannerly!"

A P R O V E R B OF S OME S OLEMN- 'UN !—It is better that a woman should

scold than do worse. Better for us to endure the present ills than fly to others

that we know not of. W e do not relish the noise of scolding. W e never did.

Scolding seems to be a poor use to make of a woman. But then, scolding

may have its advantages. W e do not like the noise of a boiler blowing off

steam; but if it saves the boiler from bursting, we should be content to

endure it .

T H E M A N T H A T S E N D S THE BAD*WEATHER.—Capta in Turner, of Inver

ness, who has gained a name from his weather predictions for the past and

present year, (and who is well known to tourists on the Caledonian Canal,)

paid a visit to Elgin in the end of last week. While the worthy captain was

on the railway platform of the Elgin station, a person standing near said to

a friend—"Who's that ? I think I know that face ."—" Oh," said his friend,

"that 's Captain Turner, from Inverness."—"Ou," was the reply, " that's the

man that sent us the desperate bad weather this winter !"— Elgin Courier.

T H E T A Y L O R THAT MADE TH E BREACHES.—The Duke of Wellington was

remarkable for the coolness with which he gave his directions. Even in the

heat of an engagement he has been known to give vent to a humorous obser-

servation, especially when it seemed to raise the spirits of his men. Thus,

when the British were storming Badajoz, his grace rode up whilst the balls

were falling around, and observing an artilleryman particularly active,

inquired the man's name. He was answered, " Taylor ."—"A very good name,

too , " remarked We lli ngt on.—" Cheer up, my men; our Taylor will soon

make a pair of breaches—in the walls I" At this sally the men forgot the

danger of their situation, a burst of laughter broke from them, and the next

charge carried the fortress.

DI S MI S S ED ON HIS OW N RECOGNIZANCES.—Judge Dooly was remarkable

for his wit as well as other talents. At one place where he attended court

he was not pleased with his entertainment at the tavern. On the first day of

his arrival a hog, under the name of pig, had been cooked whole and laid on

the table. No person attacked it. It was brought the next day, and the

next, and treated with the same respect, and it was on the table on the day

on which the court adjourned. As the party finished dinner Judge Dooly

rose from the table, and in a solemn manner thus addressed the clerk—

" Mr. Clerk, dismiss that hog on his recognizance until the first day of

the next court. He has attended so faithfully during the present term that I

don't think it will be necessary to take any security."— American Paper.

S P L I T T I N G THE DIFFERENCE.—A nice young gentleman in one of the

Southern States, after a long and arduous courtsh ip, found himself, one brigh t

evening, the betrothed of a pretty girl, the very pink of modesty. On a

certain occasion he was about to take his departure, and after lingering about

the 4oor for some time in a fidget of anxiety, he declared and protested to

Miss Nancy that he couldn't and wouldn't leave until she had kissed him.

Of course Miss Nan cy blushed b eautiful ly red, and protested in turn that she

could not and would not do that—she never had done such a thing and never

would, until she got married—so now he had it. The altercation and debate

became deep and exciting, until the betrothed bluffed outright, and declared

if he couldn't kiss her he wouldn't have her, and was marching off. She

watched him to the gate, and saw the "fa t was in the fire," unless something

was done. " Come back then," said she, coaxingly, " I'll split the difference

with you—you may squeeze my hand ! "

Published by B E N J A M I N B L A K E , 4 2 1 , Strand, London, W.C., to whom all

Communications for the Editor must be addressed.

Printed by B B A D B U E Y AN D E V A N S , Whiteiriars, London.

Documents

Family Herald May 26 1860