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No.86. VOL. IV. PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS. 98 WILLIAM ST., N. Y. PRICE, 5 CENTS

! ing, and was in the habit of asking casual acquaintances if they knew

'  S  anything of Hobbes; “it is light enough that the lower orders should
be instructed. But this sectarianism within the Church ought to be

BY GEOkEE ELIOT. _ put down. In point of fact, these Evangelicals are not Churchmen at

M__#_____«, all; they’re no better than Presbyterians.”
“Presbyterians? what are they?" inquired Mr. Tomlinson who often
CHAPTER I- _ said his father had given him “no education, and he didn’t care who
“No!” said lawyer Dempster, in a loud, rasping, oratorical tone, knowed it; he could buy up itmost 0’ th’ eddicated men he’d ever come
struggling against chronic huskiness, “as long as my Maker grants me across.” ’
power of voice and power of intellect, I will take every legal means to “ The Presbyterians,” said Mr. Dempster, in rather a louder tone
resist the introduction of demoralizing, methodistical doctrine into this than before, holding that every appeal for information must naturally
parish; I will not supinely suffer an insult to be inflicted on our vener— be addressed to him, “ are a sect founded in the reign of Charles I.,
, able pastor who has given us sound instruction for half a century. by a man named John Presbyter, who hatched all the brood of Dis-
It Was very warm everywhere that evening, but especially in the bar senting vermin that crawl about in dirty alleys, and circumvent the
of the Red Lion at Milby, where Mr. Dempster was seated mixing his lord of the manor in order to get a few yards of ground for their
third glass of brandy-and-water. He was a tall and rather massive pigeon-house conventicles.”

 

man, and the front half of his large surface was so well dredged “No, no, Dempster," said Mr. Luke Byles, “you are out there.

with snuff that the cat, having inadvertently come‘ near him, Presbyterianism is derived from the word presbyter, meaning an elder.”

had been seized with a severe fit of sneezing—an accident, which, I “Don’t contradict me, sir!” stormed Dempster. “I say the

being cruelly misunderstood, had . I , ; . ' - ' ’ word presbyterian is derived;

caused her to be driven contume~ _  I ‘ , _  , . a v ' l I k . H from John Presbyter,amiserable
, w‘-‘ "4 '  . ‘ ' * 

liously from the bar. Mr. Demp-
ster habitually held his chin
tucked in, and his head hanging
forward, weighed down, perhaps,
by a preponderant occiput and a
bulging forehead, between which
his closely clipped coronal surr
face lay like a flat and new-
mown table-land. The only
other observable features, were
puffy cheeks and a protruding
yet lipless mouth. Of his nose I
can only say that it was snuffy;
and as Mr. Dempster was never
caught in the act of looking at
anything in particular, it would
have been difficult to swear to
the color of his eyes.
“ Well! I’ll not stick at giving
myself trouble to put down such
. hypocritical cant,” said Mr. Tom-
linson, the rich miller. “I know ,
well enough what your Sunday-
evening lectures are good for-—
for wenches to meet their SWeet-
hearts, and brew mischief.
There’s work enough with ser-
vant-maids as it is—such as I
never heard the like of in my
mother’s time, and it’s all along 0’
your schooling and new-fangled
plans. GiVe me a servant as can
"cyther read nor write, I say,
and doesn’t know the year 0’ the
Lord as she was born in. I
should like to know what good
these Sunday schools have done,
now. Why, the boys used to go
a-bird’s-nesting of a. Sunday
morning; and a capital thing, too
-——ask any farmer; and very
pretty it was to see, the strings
gets”? hang?  in 1200‘. 1360. in 'th 1) t a much pr'n
ouses. on no see em an wr a on s , I .
nowhere now.» .4. g _.  _ .  .  ._ , -. ciple as he has property, Which,
" P9011!" said Mr. Luke 133183, wrrnour A MOMENT’S muss, JANET any names was smear, *0 my knowledge is considerably
Who piqued himself on his read. OPENED THE-DOOR. AND ENTERED. less than MN» An “3501th

fanatic who wore a suit of leath-
er, and went about from town to
v village, and from village to hem
let, inoculating the vulgar with
the asinine virus of Dissent.”

“ Come, .Byles, that seems a.
deal more likely,” said Mr. Tom—
linson, in a conciliatory tone, ap-
parently of opinion that history
,was a process of‘in’genious guess-

“It’s not a questiOn of likeli-
hood; it’sa known fact. I could
fetch you my Encyclopedia, and
show it you this moment.”

“I don’t care astraw, sir, either
for you or your Encyclo’; indie,”
said Mr. Dempster; “a farrago of

' false information, of which you
picked up an imperfect copy in a

_ cargo of waste paper. Will you
tell me, sir, that I don’t know the
origin of Presbyterianism? I, sir,
a man known through the coun-
try, intrusmd with the affairs of
half a score of parishes; while
you, sir, are ignored by the very
fleas that infest the miserable
alley in which you Were bred.”

A loud and general laugh,with
“You better let him alone,Byles;,”
“ You’ll not get the better of
Dempster in a hurry,” drowned.
the retort of the too well in.
formed Mr. Byles, who, white
with rage, rose and walked out
of the bar.

I “A meddlesome, upstart, J aco-
binical fellow, gentlemen," con-
tinued Mr. Dempster. “ I was
determined to be rid of him.
What does he mean by thrusting
himself into our company? A

 

 

 

 

   

   
     

  

     
  

     

 

 

 

2 JANET'S EEPENTAggqlE
.mmen. secretion pears: fittcsitin massages”: minnows. You see into shouts ] toms crowded  ' teel
(of a   at: ease   an    '  review 0 no
r . u   wilted}; threatened. draw, “  Willow-i6?me at .'  “same a ' 1y
 _ “ I j, , V ”  is aim-gotcha“, rhupmendggingervisn’t"...0l,fin,,fl;eir. well-bated  9W  ,  33nd
 who spears   a ,   all idem: <     themes nastiness assessments have
film. 0 signatureofa fellow yles would their hearts: are all theibiacken   enacting  i . h   ea‘diey  knan
he aslot-onourprotest.” . menieus outside. . won’t   mods much-in mittens”. momma
3‘1;me get onseith'; ‘  against‘thoseiwho make clean the  or the;   mathematier a Wing
said Mr?“ '   doom, wmad presented cup and the planes? s-Them’s this new, bookseluhg'and  yomer Wham
' 2' Beans ‘ ' Mn   bar he goes about praying with old Woman, and ‘sing- carried their em H  fat “tenure f 7 7 a
hwisnsekinga “limfillgrkn tag with charitychildren; but what has he really little German. ‘ 5",; ’  mbyfi,'now owned,
1‘ {one «his long fiaylsrounds got his eye on all the while? A domineering, T 1 andenlightenfsdsteimvm more membling

 

.  -    is theemi‘sefi. which he
had sat down to two hearty meals that might have
 for dinners ifhe had not declared
them to be “snaps ;" and as each snap had been
folloVed by a few lessee of “mixture,” con-
,aless libero. proportion of water than
the articles he himself labeled with that broadly
generic name, he was in that condition I which
his groom indicated with poetic ambiguity by
saying that “ master had been in the sunshine.”
Under these circumstances, after a hard day,
in-yhfiieh‘yghe had reallydllad no regular, meal,
it  aynatur’al relaxation to step into the bar
of  Red, Lion where; as it was Saturday even:
ing? he shOuld’ be sure to find Dempster, and hear
the latest news aboutthe protest against the even-
‘ lecture. _ = '
 I’Have‘ you hooked Ben Landor yet?” he con:
Ifiiiued, as” he” took two chairs, one for his body,
and the other for his right leg.
g,“ No,  "(1 Mr, Budd, the church-Warden, shak-

'  head/f 9Ben’Landor has a Way of keeping
h mseif neutral in'everything, and he doesn’t like
topppose his father. i Old Lander is a regular
3.” A, note. “ Butfvve haven’t got your name yet, Pil-

ln. ‘

5‘ Tut, rtut, Budd," said Mr. Dempster, sarcastic-
elly; ,“you don’t expect Pilgrim to sign? He’s
   Tryanite'livers under his treatment.

 

    

   
 
  

wanityorbfle‘." ., . .
 I thought, as‘Pratt hadn‘decl ,, ,himself
a“? "suite,  should be sure to get-3  "on

 
 
    

  

 
  

  
   
  

Q  '_ , you not amen tolsit  , , lbs in min
sat-hams," 1  having endowed   ‘ 
hiegfsdefiansive wit.  . it»; _  5w“ -*  I A I

  e ' animpediment “   «33  : , V,   -‘   up,
 to one in-and-water‘ stimulated, 7  ehfidjsttifi . 

a b [the 1m ‘ iment, he had
 sufficient y bitter. ‘

mesa-a tell'you the truth, feuds; 
 ffthere’s ,a. report, all over the

 swears, you shall take you
as

 that'-

   

 ' ‘ in your tenderness,
 of“ sex, ‘ thought yogi" ‘
it'lfiosaiblc tolde’n her. .I- hang
 signing on t at account; as
  

1 ’ ‘ was a small, sleek-headed  of
. whose scandalous life  nag fur»
fished «his more more} neighbors  after—y
(fingerjnke, f fie had no other striki i character-
 sneeptthat/he was a carrier of  f tame
 so that? you, might wonder he 
"'  its doggone church-wmif I did

f . had recently elected

peter’s exertions, in ‘der that

   
    

   

’egthe;  well-4 if

   
 

   
         
 
   
   
 
 
   
 

on that

   
 

  

like contend methodism for producing a '

  
 what,”._answered the cautioasnemesten“

 01' Viki?! delegates, and they say than  " is“ be 1
a fine  at ', rdoor the momingymm .

 
   
 

 
 
  

. knmawrythiugmmpster 

. could hardly. have:  placehi Milky when Mr.
, Dempster flourished there,

ambitious. Jesuit, gentlemen; all he wants is to
gobble toot for enough into .the parish to step
into Crewe’s shoeswhsm the old gentleman dies.
Depend upon it, whenever you see a man pre-
tending to be better than. his neighbors, that
manhas either some cunning end to serve, or his
heart is rotten with spiritual pride.”

.As if to guarantee himself against this awful
sin, Mr. DemSpter seized his glass of brandy-and-
water, and tossed oil the contents with even greater
rapidity than usual.

7 “Have you fixed on your third delegate yet ?”
said Mr. Pilgrim, whose taste was for detail rather
than for dissertation.

“That’s the man,” answered Dempster, point-
ing to Mr. Tomlinson. “We start for Elmstoke
Rectory on Tuesday morning; so, if you mean to
give us your signature, you must make up your
mind pretty quickly, Pilgrim.” ,

Mr. Pilgrim did not in the least mean it, so he
only said, “I shouldn’t Wonder if Tryan turns out
too many for you, after all. He’s got a well-oiled
tongue of his own, and has perhaps talked over
Prendergast into a determination to Stand by
him.” 7 ‘

_ “Very little fear of: that,“ said 'Dempster, in
a' confident tone. “I’ll soon bring him round.
Tryau has got his match." I’ve plenty of rods in
pickle for Tryan.” '

' At this meme t Boots entered the bar, and put
a letter into theiwyer’s hands, saying: “There’s
Trowerls man just coins, into the
sire an’ he’s Wthts ,

k: ' "the letter and

U; in“! 

here letter.”  - >

  
 
  

      
 
 
 

  
    
 
  

   
   

   
 

 

    

 -  fromhisch ‘_ ‘thruStingon his
 buoyant} walkingfih a-alow  not
 _; stepouted the bar. . s _,  u 
_ ‘5 new see/We equal; if I did I’ll 'bs
yahoo,”  Hr. ’i‘omllnson, look after

’ - ‘  “wagers druakt‘s‘hoetpsrt 
W ' ysincef we’ve beomfitting, and,
“hats at towers, 
 be as “sleaan  ,eknows more"about

 

     
 
 
 

‘ ‘ awesomeness masseuseaaa’mm , 

orgasm, W - 
‘ '; too' ‘ "
Mr. 3%. “announce '
about the 



Hestudi  '
hard wheelie  mm.” v ,I 
‘ 0 » w my. 

‘ ’  n.
Tstconv ‘ _ g I
remarkably  witty ; but if it had Seen, it

and old Mr. sway, the

 
 

   
   

curate, was yet
More than a, “

wt’ta gig, I

howhe‘tOOk may“ ‘ ; ..
Bless your heart, 

 estreoerded is not, Iam aware, don,

   

     
 

the iii»! of foméfiafiys than: the huge, longu
skirted, drab great-coat that embarrassed the an.
kles of our grandfathers resembled the slight pale.
tot in which we tread jauntin through the muddl-
est streets, or than the bottlenosed Britons, re.
joicin over a tankard in the old sign of?  'Two
Trave ers at Milby, resembled the severe-looking
gentleman in straps and high collars whom a mod-
ern artist has represented as sipping the imaginary
port of that well-known commercial house. , ;

But pra , reader, dismiss from your mind all
the refine and fashionable ideas associated with
this advanced stateofthings, and transport your
imagination to a time when Milby had no gaslights ;
when the mail drove up dusty or bespattered to
the door of the Red Lion; when old Mr. Crews,
the curate, in a brown Brutus wig, delivered in-
audible sermons on Sunday, and on a week-day
imparted the education of a gentleman—that is to
say, an arduous invauaintance with Latin through
the medium of the Eton Grammar—etc three pupils
in the upper grammar-school. ‘ ‘

If you had passed through Milby on a coach at
that time, you would have had no idea what im-
portant people lived there, and how very high a
"sense of rank was prevalent, among them. Raves
a dingy-looking town, with a strong smell of ten.
ning up one street and a great shaking of hand-
looms'up another; and even in that focus of aris-
tocracy, Friar’s Gate, the houses would not have
seemed very imposing to the hasty and superficial

obs passenger. You might still less have
hot the figure in light fustian and large
ers, leaning against the grocer’s door-
, , h Street, was no less a planet:  Mr.
, g the of the most aristocratic Men‘ki'mlby,
said/tog ve been ‘4 brought up "a gentiemlur,"and
 5W-had the gay habits accordant with that
*‘kaeeping his barriers and other expensi

  
   
 

ve
‘ b He was now quite an elderly Lothatio,
meteorite the most economical sins; Ethe ’ ' i.
 of his gayety being this of lounging at
mgfimhy’s door, embarrassing the servantmaids
 to the grocery, and talking scandal with
 assers-by. Still, it was generally under-
stood  ,Mr. Lowme belonged to the highest circle
aim society; his sonsand daughters holdup
 very high indeed; and in spite arias
jiWMing way of chatting and drinking with
 people, he would himself have  tiny
Misantification with them. It most be admitted
lfl’ieflas of some service to motors in this
. k  j at Mr. Gruby’s door, for he and SKI-(Len.
MKMomd-land dog, who stretched himself and
’ j,  the opposite causeway, took somethi
‘ "  lifeless air that belonged to the Egg
Street every day exee‘pt Saturday. ’ ~ v i 
: ,Gerteinly, in spite oft rec assemblies and ashes.
ity bail" in the winter, the ocoasioaal advent of a

 

a

  

‘ ventriiequist, or a company of itinerantpla ’ ,

some whom were very highly thought of in 'n-
; andjthe annual three days’ fair, in June, Why
might be. considered dull by people of a hypochon-.
telnperament ; and perhaps this was one rea-
son why many of the middle-aged inhabitwts, male
,and female, often found it impossible "to keep
their spirits without a very abundantvsupply of
ulants. It is true there were several substan-
men who had (a reputation for. eXceptional

 

 

 
 
 
  
  
 
   
   
  
 

Ans " 'st‘ddctrln’st

0n ‘1‘,
Tell a man he

by his works, and you open

“is lens

"film i» _. -‘
the

  
 

 
 

orgasms-arrows  -  3m «3,,- t, .. and
grammar-school, conducted on armed genomes.

/

 

'ety, so than; Milby habits were really not as
as , ssible; and no one is warranted in'saying
, ' Mr. Grewe’s flock cordd «not have been
Withoutra‘ny clergyman stall. r ' r « r
dressed" parishioners generally were

roll-goers, midtown young  r
I chi-hmhneditethhrmat the

.00 was themostegr " g‘ " babe

piem '

.m _, or fewr‘fpliks’“ "  a fire " i-i ' at
show of out-doorttlilets   $215
from Why Church at one o’cloc

There  the 

 

 

 

 

: "‘3: ,
four tall Kiss Pittman,  Lawyer Pittman’s
«were, with cannon mls‘surmounted by large
hats,  ofparrot
green. Therewas’ res - ,withacrimson
bonnet verymuch‘til’tedup " ind, and acockade
of stif feathers on the summit. There was Miss
Lander, the belts of Milby, clad regallyin purple
and ermine, with a plume of feathers neither
droopin nor erect, but maintainin a discreet me.
dium. were the three Miss omlinsons, who
imitated Miss Lander, and also wore ermine and
feathers; but their beauty was considered of a
coarse olden and their square forms were quite un-
suited'to the round tippet which fell‘with such re-
markable grace on Miss Landor’s sloping shoulders.
Looking at this plumed procession of ladies, you
would have formed rather a high idea of Milby
wealth; yet there was only one close carriage in the
place, and that was old Mr. Lender’s, the banker,
who, I think, never drove morethan one horse.
These sumptuously attired ladies flashed past the
vulgar eye in onehorse chaises, by no means of a
superior blflld.

The young gentlemen, too, Were not without their
little Sunday displays of costume, of a limited mas-

culine kind. biz-{Eustace Landor, being nearly of:

age, had recently acquireda diamond ring, together
with the habit of rimming his hand through his
hair. He Was  dark, and thus had an ad-
vantage which flr. Alfred Phipps, who, like his
sister, was blonde and stumpy, found it difficult to
overtake, even by the severest attention to shirt-
etuds, and the particular shade of brown that was
best relieved by gilt buttons.

The respect fpr the Sabbath, manifested in this
attention to costume, was unha ily counterbal.
anced, by considerable levityo‘f be avior duriug'the
prayersarid sermon; for the young ladies and gen-
tlemen of lllby were of a very satirical turn, Miss
Lander especially being considered remarkably
clever, and a; terrible quiz; and the large congrega-
tion necessarily containing many persons inferior
in dress and demeanor to the distinguished aristo.
cratic minority, divine service offered irresistible
temptations to joking, through the medium of tele~
graphic communications from the galleries to the
aisles and back again. I remember blushing very
much, and thinking Miss Lander was laughing at
me because I was appearing inrcopt-talls for the
first time,an I saw her look dov‘Vh slyly towards
where -I sat, and then turn with a titter to hand-
some Mr. Bob Lowme, who had such beautiful whis-
kcmlmeeting under his chin. 'But perhaps she was
not thinhhig 0! me, after all; for our pew was near
the pulpit; and there was almost always some-
thi  old Mr. We. His brown wig
was ever put on quite right, and he had a
way ofrraislng his voice for three or four words,
and lowsrlng it again to a mumble, so that‘ we
could scarcely-make out a word he said; though,
as my“ mother observed, that was of no conse-
quence in prayer, since everyone had a prayer-
book; and as for the sermon, she continued, with
some oaustlcity, We all of us heard more of it than
we could member when we got home.

This youthful generation was not particularly
literary; f The young ladies who frizzed their hair,
and gathered it all into large barricades in front of
their leaving their occipital region exposed
without ornament, as if that, being a back view,
was of no Welles, dreamed as little that their
dauflters would read a selection of German poetry,
and able to ex ress’an admiration for Schiller,
as that they. won (1 turn all their hair the other
way—that instead 0f threatening us with barri-
cades in frost, they would be most killing in re-
treat,’ ,

“ And, like the Parthian. wound us as they fly."

v Those shaming, welldrizzed ladies spoke French

indeed with considerable facility, unshaakled by

any am“ regard to idiom, and were in the habit

of cbndu " conversations in that language in the
presence of 1; air less instructed elders; for 
ing to the standard-of those backward dayswg
Widen Md been very lavish, such pong ,‘ '9;
as H“W,Hiss Phippayandt‘hei use new

nabbed” at distant and expert!in

havhig' r“
    

-       im-
  , having in assists ,ridays

W Vflyther”alrsefseveralfl “gentlemen” 'lnthose
36.37%.

 

James REPEMANOE.

parts,who'had cu “uentlybeen trial to sell
everthing and leave‘t country, in min crisis
Mr. Pittman accommodatingly step in as spur-
chasm‘ of their estates, taking on himself the risk
and trouble of a more leisurely sale; which, how-
ever hag‘pcened to turn out very much to his advan-

e. h opportunities occur quite .' unexpected-
ly in the way of business. But I think Mr. Pitt-
man must have been unlucky in his later Specula-
tions, for now, in his old age, he had not the repu-
tation of being very rich; and though he rode
slowly to his oiilcc in Milby every morning on an
oldwhite hackney, he had to resign the chief profits
as Well as the active business of the firm to
his younger partner, Dempster. No one in 'Milby
considered old Pittman a virtuous man and the
elder towns-people were not at all backward in
narrating the least advantageous portions of his
biography in a very round, unvarnished manner.
Yet I could never observe that they trusted him
any the less, or liked him any the worse. In-
deed, Pittman & Dempster were the popular law-
yers of Milby and its neighborhood, and Mr. Ben-
jamin Landor, whom no one had anything par
ticular to say against, had a very meagre business
incomparison. Hardly a landholder, hardly a farm-
er, hardly a' parish within ten miles of Milby,
whose affairs were not under the legal guard-
ianship of Pittman & Dempster; and I think
the clients were proud of their lawyers’ unscrupu-
lousness, as the patrons of the fancy are proud of
their champion’s “ condition.” It was n0t,vto be
sure, the thing for ordinary life, but it was the
thing to be bet on in a lawyer. Dempster’s talent
in “ bringing through ” a client was a very com~
men topic of conversation with the farmers, over

an incidental glass of grog at the Red Lion. “ He’s,

a long-headed feller, Dempster. Why, it shows
yer what a head-piece Dempster has, as he can
drinks bottle 0’ brandy at a sittin’, an’ yit see far-
ther through a stone wall when he’s done than
other folks '11 see through a glass winder.” Even
Mr. Jerome, chief member of the congregation. at
Salem Chapel, an elderly man: of very strict life,
was one of Dempster’s clients, and had quite an
exceptional indulgence .for his attorney’sfoibles,
perhaps attributing'them to the inevitable incom-
patibility of law and gospel. ‘

The standard of morality at Milby, you perceive,
was not i‘nconveniently high in those good old times,
and an ingenious vice or two was what every man
expected of his neighbor. Old Mr. Crewe, the on-
rate, for example, was allowed to enjoy his avarice

in comfort, without fear of sarcastic parish dema-

gogues ; and his flock liked him all the better for
having scraped together a large fortune out of his
schoo and curacy, and the proceeds mi the three

thousand pounds he had with his little deaf wife,

It was clear lie must be a learned man, for he had
once had a large private schoolin connection with
the grammar-school, and had even numbered a
yo nobleman or two among his pupils. The

fact hat he read nothing at all now,- and that his
mind seemed absorbed in the commonest matters.
was doubtless-due to his having exhausted the res

sourcesof erudition earlier in life. It is tru ’ he
'wasnot spoken of in terms of high respect, an old
Orewe’s stingy house-keepng was a frequent sub-
ject of jestlng; but this wasa good old-fashioned
characteristic in a person who had been part of
Milby life for half a century: it Was like the dents

and disfigurements of an old family tankard, which,
no one would like to part with for a smart new-

piece of plate fresh from Birmingham. The par-
ishOners saw no reason at all why it should be desi-
rable to venerate the par-son or any one else; they

I were much more comfortable to look down a little

on their ~‘fellow-creatures. -
Even the Dissent in Hilby’i was then of '5. lax
and indifferentkind. The doctriueofl adult bap-

tis’m; stru ' ling tinder a heavy load ofdebtphad

let off be] its aim larea'as a ribbonishop; and
Kethodism was 0rd); togbe detected, as you detect
Mariam, by diligent Search in dirty corners:-
  ‘ , dents“ were-the only Dissenters‘ or
vim  efistenfl’ " 4 eefilfllb'y “ jtil‘ 

  wb  7 Z;  r ,hdepoudcnt
depth“ , ; .  er , isms  "we aim“ " 
0%: mil “dim revenue 039' 
kept at"wa gig} swam. demure, are.

    
 

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. . ,,
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tired em'adactor, and the most eminent  out
the ‘V ion, Was one of the fiche“ ‘M in
the it; But in spite of this appalenbm
parity, mgether with the usual amount of em.
poraneous preaching mitigated by furtive notes,
Salem belied its name, and was not always the
abode of peace. For some reason or other, it was
unfortunate in the choice of its ministers. The
Rev. Mr. Horn? elected’ with brilliantdhopes, was
discovered to 6 given to ti ' an quarreli
with his wife ; the Rev. Hr. Rogg’lsndgoctfine was a 1?:
tie too “high,” verging on Anfinomianism; the
Rev. Mr. Stickney’s gift as a preacher was found to
be less strikin on a more extended acquaintance;
and the Rev. fir. Smith, a distinguished minister,
much sought after in the iron districts, with a
talent for poetry, became objectionable from an in-
clination to exchange verses with the young ladies
of his congregation. It was reasonably ‘

that such verses as Mr. Smith’s must take a 
time for their composition, and the habit allud
to might entrench seriously on his pastoral duties.
These reverend gentlemen, one and all, gave it as
their opinion that the Salem church members were
among the least enlightened of the Lord‘s people,
and that Milby was a low place, where they would
have found it a severe lot to have their lines fall
for any long period; though to see the smart and
crowded congregation assembled on occasion of
the animal charity sermon, anyone might have
supposed that the minister of Salem had rather
.a brilliant position in the ranks of Diesels. Sev-
eral Church families used to attend on that occa-
sion, for Milby, in those unins'tmcted days, had not
yet heard that the schismatic ministers of Salem
were obviously typified by Korah, Dathan, and
Abiram; and many church people there were of
opinion that Dissent might be a weakness, but,

after all, had no great harm in it. These MEX)“: ~

copalians were, I believe, chiefly tmdequiple, who
held that, inasmuch as Congregationalism consumed
candles, it ought to be supported, and 
made a point of presenting themselves at Sal
for the afternoon charity sermon, with the expat);
tation of being asked to hold aplate. Mr Pil-
grim, too, was always there with his half-ewes.
sign; for as there was no Dissenting doctor in
Milby, Mr. Pilgrim looked with at tolerance on
all shades of religious opinion t t did not 
a belief in cures by miracle. , - ‘
‘ On this point he had the concurrence of In
Pratt, the only other medical man of the , _
standing in Mil’by. - Otherwise, it was remarkab
howstrongly these two clever men were construct-
ed. Pratt was  insinuating, and 
very-voiced; Pilgrim [was tall, heavy, '

nered, and splutteriug. Both were eons _, ‘ ‘fi ’
that Ms

have great. powers of ‘conversatiom ,
anecdotes were of the fine old crusted duality”
be, procured only of Joe Miller; Pilgrim’s 
the *full frui flavor of the most recent scandal.
Pratt elegant referred all diseases to debi ,,
and, with a proper contempt for sym ‘
treatment, went to the root of the matter and .

port-wine and bark; Pilgrim was persuaded“ '

the evil principle in the human stem was M;
ore, and he made war against all with on "
blistering, and cathartics. They had bout. '
long established in Milby, and as each had a M"
ficient practice, there was no very '  ‘ 
valry betWeen them; on the contrary, had
that sort of friendly contempt for each othc'
which is always conducive to a good understand-
ing between professional men; and when any
new surgeon attempted, in an fllfidfiwd hour, to
settle himself ip t e towm'it was “strikingly deé
monstrated how slight and trivial are theoretic dlfs
ferences compared with the broad basis .of 
mon human feeling. There was the most
unanimity betwaen Pratt and Pilgrim in the 
 todrive away the obnoxious and tea
Wampum“! intruder as soon as 
” , the'first wonderful‘cnre' he  
one  Pratt’s or of ' gone 
.iathe other to  the 
 mdboth alike 

fl“  ofconversatiou  ’ V

.   hot'for ‘him.  

 their; twig disfigfuish W
‘ I can 0% - § . *. ,
WI,     

Hrs; Phipps should  the 

I.

 

 

 

g4

.Prett, who let, her: feed. (basalt Sip tethat de
fg‘ree,ffit?ivvas”jreally shocking to hear how short

her breath 'was ; and  Phipps had: no patience
‘w‘irthfilrs; Lcw’rne,‘ livingasshe did, on ,teay'andf ’
and gin in a noisy pot-house“ Little. deaf Mrs.

broth, and looking as "yellow as any ,crowtflower;
*and'yet letting Pilgrim bleed“ and blister her and
giving  lowering medicine till'her clothes hung
ion, her new scarecrow’s.‘ 0n the whole, perhaps,
113‘. Pilgrim’s reputation was at the higher pitch,
' and when any lady under Mr. Pratt’s care Was do-
ing ill, "shewas half disposed to think that a little
mpre'b“ active treatment "’j might suit her better.
 without very definite provocation no one would
itakejso‘ serious :1 step as to part'with the family
¥ doctor, form these remote days there were few
salaries 6f'humah' hatr'ed ,more formidable than
{’the medical. The doctor’s estimate, even of a con-,
lidinglpa‘tic'nt, was apt to rise and fall with the en-:
‘It’riesin the dayfbook; and I have known Mr. Pi1~
’gl‘itii"discover the most unexpected virtues in a pa-

itientiseized with a promising illness. At such

'times you might have been glad to percieve that
“there'weresome of Mr. Pilgrim’s fellow-creatures
‘gf Whom he entertained a high opinion, and that he
 liable to the amiable weaknes‘sof a too admir-
ing estimate; A good inflammation fired his en-
thusiasm, and a lingering dropsy dissolved him in-
 charityi ’ Doubtless this crescendo of benevo-
lence partly due to feelings not at all repre-
‘Ifsien’ V b the entries in the day-book ;. for in Mr.
; _ “ ,'lfi’s’jheart,,too, there was alatent store of ten-
  and, pity, which flowed forth at the sight
 su sting. Gradually, however, as his patients
:beeame‘convalcscent, his view of their characters
became ' mere diSpaSSionate; when the could
 mutton chops, he began to admit t at they
fliadfoibles, and by the time they had swallowed
their last dose of tonic, he was alive to their most
"inexcusablejiaultsf After this the thermomet'er
bible” regard rested at the moderate point of
mend“ backbiting, which sufficed to make him
agnostic in his morning visits to the amiable and

 

 persons who were yet far from conval-y
 ‘ ~‘ 4 v

' fish‘s" patientswwere profoundly uninteresting
'  their diseases were despicable,

issdfhtyasld‘ .htidfi, are [thought their bodies
 ' utof all Pratt’s patients, 

 . aiming .
 Was the 0118,01i whomihlrgl’ilg’rim heaped

"most  unmitigated contempt. In spite of the,

,1 ,n’s wisetolerance, Dissent'became odious to
m the person of Mr. Jerome. Perhaps it was

’  that old gentleman, being rich, and having

verylarge early bills for medical attendance on
 ’dnghis wife, nevertheless employed Pratt

   
    
   

, sass  On any, othetig'xsssd it is
we morphine feelinr of hostility to Manama.
bonus entertains: oi’ ‘

git; an; imperfect English, but interns or away
ftqithe ostensibly rich, and in sacks cf potatoes to
Wjdbfiously poor. ‘

-  Milbyhad manna of goodness which

v

,..§ssiiisase' 0,11 the“ Surf“; WW” “his were
 were. sweetening their parents heart‘s with
“Shah,é7ioy;.men and women Withering in (asap

 ivorldlhies‘s,‘ or blofltéii Vim, Sénshal case,

if suffering with Sympathy, and were‘ moved to

(  bf'hei‘ghborly kindness ,In church and in
- pjl‘ ‘tbcrp'werc honest-"hearted, woi‘shipers who
to keepa conscience void, ‘of offence; and
 thefdimmfit alleys you might have found
hegjezéandigthere” at Wesleyan "to mom ,Methodism
 Vehible of ,ppace' on earth and’good-will to
mBnl’,-‘asupcrflcxal glance, Milbywas nothing
., I , g _‘ ,mse; a ' din town, surrounded by
lat    _iclms," Sprawling manufactur-

; ,‘vgiisgea which, crept on and on with their
weauugshbpn‘ml they threatened to graft them-
selves 0111}!  'But the sweet spring came

a. faixbrnrwicmdih:"use .elm- era were ' red

 
   

is?
{D

  

with hfidéfiht chufélgflct was eta. f ‘ ,wi‘th'dsisies‘; venerable grayhaira; the attempted intrusion of

the largeslflgmé  «loremhsigupduthe flat mean  a  in years

 1 M, "  1 .9131;  ,‘  ' ‘ V  mason “1305011.
i"  ' ‘ , t . renames: " are arse fxgwsnrmlgsaa pheasants

  
  

; a in; atiiigttjui:w
 earl  vanity, ostrich"  V

I)

 

bigoted all; the advantages of “active, treat-_
,3. and (paid? stray his money without getting

. 51 gentleman, expressing a
can of‘go’od-will towards his neighbors, not,

Egélph'lfifiiiifidl‘ld together in greater abundance than

sprains moments in Which they pressed «the hand

K L ‘» my.

 

f‘JANEzzsnssEnganwn v

,feathers, and the fumes of brandy. Looking closer;

Wu‘ ign'nd; s‘ome purity;J gentleness, and unselfish?
Idle“, 333701!» mayhave'o

I l _ served ascented geranium?
giving forth its wholesome odors amidst blasphemy

Crews would often carry her own spare dinner to
the sick and hungry; MiSS hhipps, with her cock-
ade of red feathers, had a filial heart, andelighted
her father’s pipe with a pleasant smile; and there
Were gray-haired men in drab gaiter‘s, not at all
noticeable as you passed them in the street, whose
integrity had been'the basis of their rich neighm
bor’s wealth. " 4 - f '
Such as the plaCe was, the people were entirely
contented with it. They fancied life must be but.
,a dull aifair‘ for that large portion of mankind who
were necessarily shut out from: an acquaintance

_with Milby families, and that it must be aniadVan-

tags to London and Liverpool that Milby gentle-
men occasionally visited those places on business.
But ’the’linhabitants became more intensely con-‘
scious of the Value they set upon all their advan-
tages, when innovation made its appearance in the
person of the Rev. Mr. Tryan, the new curate, at
the chapel of case on Paddiford Common- It was
soon notorious in Milby that Mr. v Tryan. held pe-
culiar opinions; that he preached extempore; that
he was founding a religious lendingdibrary in his
remote corner of the parish; that he expounded

the Scripture in cottages; and that his preaching

was attracting the Dissenters, and filling the very
aisles of his church. The rumor sprung up that
Evangelicalism had invaded Milby parish—rs. mur-
rain of blight all the more terrible because its na-~
ture was but dimly conjectured. Perhaps Milby,
was one of the last spots to be reached by the‘
wave of a new movement; and it was only now,
when the tide was just on the turn, thatthe lim-
pets there ct a’sprinkling. Mr. Tryan was the
first E'vange ical clergyman who had risen above
the Milby horizon; hitherto that obnoxious ad-
jective had been unknown to the townspeople of'
any gentility; and there were even many Dissen-
ters who considered “Evangelical” s'nnply a sort cf
baptismal name to the magazine which circulated;
among the con regation of Salem Chapel. But now,

at length, the iseasc had beenirnported, when the

parishioners were expecting it as little .as the in-
nomnt Red Indians expected small-pox. As long-
as Mr. Tryan’s hearers were confined to ,Paddiford
Common—which, byrthe-by, was hardly recogniz-
able as a common at all, bdt was a'dismal district
where you heard the rattle of the handloom, and
breathed; the smoke of coal-pits—the “ canting—par-
son ” oculd be treated as a joke. Not sowhen a
number of single ladies in the town appeared to be
infected, and even one or two men of substantial

roperty, with old Mr. Lander, the banker, at their
- cad, Seemed to be “ giving'in” to the new move,

fluent—When Mr. 'Tryan was known. to be well re-

ceived in several good houseSgwhere he was in the
habit of v finishing ithe evening with eonhortation’
and prayer. _, Evan licalism was no longer d’nuis-
ance existing mere y in by—cormrawhich any; well-
elad person eculd avoid ; it was invading the very

drawmg-rooms, min ling itself with thecomfort-

able fumes of port-the and brandy, threateninng
,dcaden with its murky breath all the splendor, of
the ostrich feathers, and to stifle Milby ingenuous»
noes," not pretending .. to be better-than its nelgh-j
here, with a clOud of cent and lugubrions hypocrisy. :
The alarm  itsvclimagt when it was reported:
that Mr. Tryaji Was endeavoring to obtain authority
from Mr. Prendergast, the non-resident rector, to
establish a Sunday-evening lecture in, the parish
church, on the ,ground'that old Mr. Crews did not
preach the Gospel. A  _

It now first appeared how, surprisingly high-a
value Milbyingeneralset on the ministrations of
an'Crewe ;* how convinced it was that Mr. Crews
was the-model'Of a parish priest; and his sermons
the soundest and most edifying that had ever re-
mainednnheard by a church-going population. All 1
allusions to‘hls- brown wig were suppressed, and
bya-rhetorical figure'his name was  With

 

, a W, . to them of
   m

 

_ M

sedan, the stations of ,the,elce41cnt,pegnster,ahe
eel-ii

granite. virulence, weapons; daycloped into

 organized" \ opposition. ’ ‘A‘prpte‘st ~against “the.

meditated ievening lecture  that or-
thodox attorney,,add,fafter being numeral;st sign-
ed waste. be‘carried to, Mr. Prontlérgast (by three
do “ega’tes . re resenting, the intellect,‘inorahty, and.
wealth of M iby. Theintellect, you perceive, was
to be persOnifiedin Mr. Dempster, the ’ morality in.
Mr. Budd, and theyealth in Mr. Tomlinson ; ,and':
the distinguished triad, waste set out' on its great
mission, as. wejhave” seen, onrthe third day from
that, warm , Saturday, evening when, the conversa-
tion recorded in the previous chapter took place in
therbar of the Red Lion.  . ‘ ‘l " ‘ . .
CHAPTER III. '

IT was quite as warm. on the following Thursr
day evening, when Mr. Dempster and his colleagues
were to return from their mission to Elmstoke Rec-
tor-y; but it was much pleasanter iii Mrs. Linnet’s
parlor than in the bar of the Red Lion, , Through
the open window came thescent ,of mi onette and ,
honeysuckle; the grassplot in frontfi) whethause

was shaded by a little plantation of. Gueldreg

roses, syringes, and laburnums; the noiseloi looms
and carts and unmelodious voices reached the ear
sir’nply as an agreeable murmur, for Mrs. Linnet’s
hause was situated quite: on the outskirts of
Paddiford'Common; and the ohlylsound liker t9
disturb the serenity of the feminine party assem-
bled there was the occasional, buzz of intrusive
wasps, apparently mistaking each lady’s head for
a sugar-basin. No sugar-basin was visible in
Mrs. Linnet’s parlor, for the time“. of tea. was not
yet, and the round table was littered with books
which the ladies were covering, with black can. '
vases a. re-enforcement of the new Paddii’ord .
Lending Library. Miss Linnet, whose manuscript
was the neatest type of zigzag,,was seated at a small
table apart, writing ongreen paper tickets, which.
were to be pasted on the covers. Miss Unnet had
other accomplishments besides that of amt man-
uscript, and an index to some of them might be
found in the ornaments-of the room. Shaina al-
ways czmlbinedlgillove offperious  , read-
in wit. ere, '   :thc neatl
bolted copies .of. Dryden’s “371%?!  More:
“ Sacred Mas,” “ Falconer‘a.‘t8hlpwmk,” M3-
son “On Self-knowledge,” “Russolasfilansl Burke
“On the Sublime and Beautiful,” which  the
chief ornamentsof the bookcasawsreallinscrtbed
with her name, and had been bought  ha
poekct~mcney when she was at her  ’ Itmust
have been at icestfifteenyears since the latest of
those purchases,but Miss Linnet’s skillin fancy work
appeared to have, ,: gone. through, 
p asesthan her literarytaste; for-thojspsnned
boxes, thr'alum'and sealingewaxbasketetheifam
dolls, the ‘f transferred”  the fire.

screens, and the, recent bouquets oi» yhaggardowers,

chewed a disparity in freshness which. made them
referable to widely difierent periods“; WMowcrs
presuppose , delicate tinge“; audacious; matience,
but-there are still many points of mind and per—
son which they leave vague’and problematic; so I
must tell you that, MissLinnetx‘had dark ringlcts, Elf
sallow complexion; andanami'sble disposition. As
to her features, there was not much to criticise in
them, for She had little nose, less 1i , noieye—
brow; and as to her intellect, her fr and Mrs. Pet.
tifer often said, “ She didn’t know a more (sensible
perSon to talk-to than Mary Linnet. ‘ Themwssno
one she liked better to come and take, a”, inlet cup
of tea" With her, and read Klopstooltfshfllessiah.”
Mary Linnet had often told her a.  of her
mind when they were sitting together; she said
there were many things to bear in ,every condition
of life, and nothing should. induce  to marry
without a prospect of happiness. . Oncgwhen Mrs.
Pettifer: admired her wax-floweresheu said, i Ah’
Mrs. Pettifer, think of the beauties of nature 1* She.
always spokovery Brainy, did Marnyinnet; very
_ , from Rebeca?” v
WMnmalndecd, was  a. '
 While most , , .Mghaaa, y-that.
, I.  . .  stood
hm even her female =m.
hum filmsrodrot’hcrthaam  ,

 
  
      
 

     

 

 

 

I had spent; greatdeal of time in acquiring flower:

 

' and plain white collar could never have bel

5

 

auditwus n:  kind ofba‘ntervfith the
young  as suwifeetuwmy
gentleman’thhy _ 4 ' r' to be flirtingwith-snheri
fat, her finery, had her thick ankles suflicingtogive
piqusncy. td thsjoheg-notwithsmnding the absence
of novelty; Miss Robotics, however, posaesscd the
accomplishment' of: music, and hersinging of. “Oh
no, we never mention her,” and “ The Soldier’s
’Tear,” was sodosirable an accession to the pleasures
of a tea-party that no one cared to oflend her, es-
pecially as Rebecca had a high spirit of her own,
and, in spiterof her expansiver rounded contour,
had a particularly sharp tongue. Her reading
had been more extensive than her sister’s, embrac—
ing most of the fiction in Mr. Procter’s circulating
library,'and nothing but an acquaintance with the
course of her studies could afford a clue to the
rapid transitions in her dress, which were suggest-
ed b the style of beauty, whether sentimental,
“P58 fly, 01' severe, possessed by the heroine of
are three volumes actually in perusal. A piece of
lace, which drooped round the edge of her white
bonnet one week, had been rejected by the next;
and her checks, which, on Whit-Sunday, loomed
through a Turnerian haze of net-work, were, on
fTrinity~Sunday, seen reposing in distinct red out-
line on her shelving bust, like the sun on a fog-
?bank. The black velvet, meeting with a crystal
lclssp, which one evening encircled her head, had
-on another descended to her neck, and on a. third
to her wrist, suggesting to an active imagination
either a magical contraction of the ornament, or a
fearful ratio of expansion in Miss Rebecca’s per-
son. With this constant application of art to dress,
.she could have had little time for fancy-work, even
if she had not been destitute of her sister’s taste
for that delightful and truly feminine occupation.
And here, at least, you perceive the justice of the
Mill) opinion as to the relative suitability of the
two ‘ Linnets for matrimony. ‘then a man is
happ, yonoughtowintheafioction so nsweet '1,
who can soothe his cores with crochet, and respfid
to all his most cherished ideas with beaded urn-
rngs and mowers in German wool, he has, at
least, a guarantee of domestic comfort, whatever

trials may await him,out of doors. What are .

source it is under fatigue and irritation to have
your drawing-room well supplied with, small mats,
which would always be ready if you ever wanted
to set anything on them! And what styptic for
a bleedingfbosrt canequal copious squares of cro.
chem-Which are useful 2 for slippiug'dcwn the min
mentyou touch them ? .How our fathers managed
withth is a wonder; but I! believe some
swim doable substitute existed in their-time
" ” Robeson. 
as well as other
forms of waxwork At school, to be sure,.she'
painting,  to the ingenious method then
fashionable, of applying the-shapes? of leavm and
flowers cutout in cardboard, and scrubbing a brush
over the surface thus conviently marked out; but
even the spill-cases and handscreons, which were
has lost half-year’s performances in that way, were
M considered eminently successful, and had‘long’
been consigned-some retirement of the best. bed-
rOom. Thus there was a good deal of family un-
llkcuess‘botweon  and her sister, and I am
a.er thorn Wasjnlso 'a little {family dislike; but
Mary‘s,  ,_ ‘ all use usually beonkept impala»
(mild WM W thin lips, for RebocCa was not on--
1y of a  disposition, but was her moths
er’s pet; the old ady being'hersolf stout, and pre-
-ferrin a. more showy s is of cap than she could
prevail on “her «lighter dry to make up for her.
But I have been describing Miss Rebwoa as she
was in former daysonly, for her appearance this
evening, as she sits pasting on the _ 11 tickets,
is in striking contrast with what it was three or
four months ago. Her plain gray gingham dress.

to her wardrobe before that date; and though she)
is not reduced in size, and her brown hair will do.
nothing but hang is crisp ringlets down her largo
“W3;  a change in her air and expression.
Wm- scouts to shed a. softened light over her pen.
“f’mf‘m who her look like u peony in, the. shading

   

:m'uch mined in Hilby, being such arery res

 

if” at;.th§asamc flower daunting in a parterre‘
2.1!} thohot'n' . V I"  ‘ , 

ts:

Wiforths better-mm Lm- .

» net’s;  Missszratt, the  
fludy misspuhtaclcd; Booted n’ppfiitc; » to: her, «who?
always-hurls peculiar repulSionfor .‘f‘f‘omslos with
’va'grosshsbit of body." »Miss1?rsttwcs an. old
maid; but that is a no more definite description

than if [had said she was in the autumn of life.
Was it. autumn when the orchard-s are fragrant
with 2apples, orautumn when the oaks are brown,
or autumn when the last yellow leaves are flutter-
ing in the chill breeze ‘2 The young ladies in Milby
would have told you that the Miss Linnets were

old maids; but the Miss Linnets were to Miss

Pratt what the applescented September is to the
bare, nipping days of late November. The Miss
Linnets were in that temperate zone of old .maid-
ism, when a woman will not say but that if a man
of suitable years and character were to offer him-
self, she might be induced to tread. the remainder
of life’s vale in company with him; Miss Pratt
was in that arctic region where a woman is confi-
dent thet at no time of life would she have con-
sented to give up her liberty, and that she has
never seen the man whom she would engage to
honor and obey. If the Miss Linnets were old
maids, they were old maids with natural rin lots
and embonpoint, not to say obesity; Miss tt
was an old maid with a. cap, a. braided “front,” a
backbone and appendages. Miss Pratt was the
one blue-stocking of Milby, possessing, she said,
no less than five hundred volumes, competent, as
her brother the doctor often observed, to conduct
a conversation on any topic whatever, and occur
sionally dabbling a little in authorship, though it
was understood that she had never put forth the
full powers of her mind in print. Her “ Letters to
a. Young Man on his Entrance into Life,” and “ De
Conroy; or, The Rush Promise; a Tale for Yout ”
were more triflcs which she hsd been induced to
publish because they were calculated for po ular
utility, but they were nothing to what she 11 for
years had by heroin manuscript; Harlotcst pro-

. duction had been Six Stanzas, addressed to the Rev.

Edgar Tryun, printed on glmdipupcr with s best
border, and beginning, “Forward, young Wrestler
for the truth l” v r

during his long widowhood, his daughter, Miss
Eliza, had had the advantage of being educated
by her aunt, and thus of imbibing a very strong
antipathy: to all thatremurkable woman’s tastes
andopiuions. The silent, handsome girl of two-
and~twenty, who is covering the “ Memoirs of Fe.

~1h: Nel’r‘," is Miss Eliza. hatt; and the small elder- he
ly lady in dowdy clothing, who is also working (EL 1?

:igently, is Mrs. Pcttifer, u; superioruuinded, widow,
ta-
sblcxperson to have in the house in case of ii nose,
{and of quite too good a family to receive any money
payment—you could always send. her garden-stuff

fthatwould make her ample, amends. Miss Pratt

has enough to do in' commenting on the heap of
Volumes before her, feeling it a responsibility en-
tailed either by her great powers of mind to leave
nothing without the advantage of her opinion.
Whatever. was good must be sprinkled with the
 other approval; whatever was evil mustbe
blighted by her condemnation . ‘

‘f Upon my word,” she said, in a deliberate high
voice, as if she were dictating to an amanuensis,
“it is a most admirable selectiohof works for pop-

ular reading, this that our erosllcnt Mr. Tryan has '

mode. -‘ I do not know‘ whether, if the task had
been confided to me, I could have made sselection
combining in a, higher degree religious instruction
and edification with a due admixture of the purer
species of amusement. This story of ‘ Father Cle-
ment ’ is a library in itself: on the errors of Roma»
ism. I have ever considered fiction 9. suitable form
for conveying meral and religious instruction, as I
have shown in my little work ‘De Courcy,‘ which,
as a very clever writer in the Crompton Argus said
at the firm of. its appearance, is the light vehicle
of a weighty moral.” . I ‘ ‘
“ One ’ud thinkfl’ said Mrs. Linnet, who also had
her spectacles on, but chiefly for the purpose, of
seeing what this, otherswm doing, “ theredidd’t
want much to drive people away from a religion as
miles ’61:; wall: barefoot over stone floors, ii a that
girl in ‘ Fatherfllcmcnt ’-:-’-sending the blood up to
the head frightful.  might see that was
an unust’rol creed.” y . , _  ,j,’
“ norms Miss liratt, 5‘ but asceticism is not

Miss Pratt having kept her brother’s house-

'thoinostibi the error, as  was  us:
chestnu- cvcningudt is the dwmlofthemm
trine'oijuatification. by faith. Much 
hosted on allvsubjccts‘jnvthe course-of my 
am indebted ’to Mr. Tryan for opening my eyes to
the full importance of that cardinal doctrineof 
Reformation. . From a child I  a dcepscuse of
religion, but in my early days the. Gospel, light wee,
obscured in the; English Church, notwithstanding»:
the possession of our incomparable liturgy, than;
which I know no human composition more Eadie,
less and sublime. As, I tell Eliml walth blessed,
as she is at the age of twound-twonty, in knowing;
a clergyman who unites all that is great‘and mimic!
Zrable in intellect with the highest spiritual  ,I.
am no contemptible judge of a man’s coquircmontm
and‘I assure you that I have tested Mr. Tnyan’s by.
questions which are a pretty severe touchstone. “It
is true, I, sometimes carry him a little beyond the
depth of the other listeners. Profound learning,”
continued Miss Pratt, shutting her spectaclos, and
tapping them on the book before her, “has not
many to estimate it in Milby.”

“ Miss Pratt,” said Robecca, “ will you please
give me ‘ Scott’s Force of Truth?’ 
small book lying against the ‘ Life of chh Bish-
 .1" _

“ That’s a book I’m very fond A of-~thc -‘Lific
of Legh Richmond,’ ” said Mrs. Linnet. “ Hcfound
out all about. that woman at Tutbury as’prctendod
to live Vvithout eating. Stuff and nonsense l”,

Mrs. Linnet had become a reader of religious
books since Mr. 'llryan’s advent; and as shame
in the habit of confining horn-pewsal to the purely
secular portions, which bore a very small :wpor. 7
tion to the whole, she could. mnkc rapid ’
through a largenumber of volumes. 031, g
up the biography of a celebrated preacher, the im—
mediately turned to the end to see what discos: he
died of; and if his legs swelled, as; 
sionally did, she felt a  inaccur-
‘taiain any earlierfocts in the 
:sical divinwwhether he had ever fallenofi a
coach, whether he had married more thu one wi e, .
and, in general, any adventures or v
ed of him previous to the epoch of his contusion;
She then glanced over the letters and 
wherever there was a. pmdominancc’ 
River of Life, and notesof exclamation; 
over to the next page; but any passage :inrlrehick‘w
she saw such  nouns as “.Wn".
“pony,” or “ boots and shoes,” arm 

I'- ‘ . u ., .   .
“ It is haltpast six now,”said- Kiss: 
ing at her watch as the servant upmrwfi 
tea-tray. j “ I suppose the delegates 
hythis time. If Mr. Tryan has notabkiudlymi
icedtocallsndletmknow,.khmld 
out walking to Milby myself to.  aw " 
theyhadbrmightbssk. .It is‘agtafiimafim‘:
us, Mr. Tryan living at Mrs. WWss‘dor he do:
often able to take noon his way  undies.
wordintothetown.” . . »“‘ ,  

, “I wonder if there’s another men in 
who has been brought up as Mumryun 
“Would choose to live in those small, 
the cominon, among heaps of dirty ‘ _ List; _
the sake of being nearlthe,_ people?” 
d’ettifer. t“ I’m' afraid. he Eggs his 
he looks tome for fromst ’7. , =   -
“Alli,” said Misgll’rgatii‘lfl  ' god-
a y rcispccta'e 'y . in: W‘
dam. I heardlfiiimtiz‘ifisolf mastitith ‘ «’s;
carriage—quite loci on y, you Maud 
tells me what very'fine cambric handkerchiefs‘ he
uses. My eyes $130.1!“ good  tosses such. *
things, but I know, what  is as vellum.
most people, and it is easy linsee- that Mr. 33min .1
quite oomme o‘l aw, to use a French expression.”

“1 should li e to tell him better 
cambric i’this place, where there’s suchwfi ,‘ , '
it’s a shame, to. be Seen,” said Mrs WVth
get ’em tore to pieces. Good lawn ind: be for  ‘
tar. I' saw what a color his linen» looked, ‘ ' 
sacrament last Sunday. Mary’s  
blwksuk case to hold his hands, but I  her:
she'd more need wash ’em for him.” ‘ ~‘ ‘ '
“ 0h, mother 1” said Robeson, with solemn se-

verity,“ pray don’t think of packet-ka

and linen, when we are talk‘ of such a  7
And at this moment, tod'when , ' is perhaps'lum

 

ing to bears heavy blow. We don"t'knoir.  ‘ ~

 

 

 

  
 

 

  

 

 

 

. ‘z.

_  and too much

Miner’s ‘nnrnzrmzven

 

 

wickedness may have triumphed, and Mr. Prsnder-.

may have consented to forbid the lecture.

‘ m'havexbeen (lispeusutions quite “mysterious,

and Satan is evidently putting forth all his stre h

to mist the entrance of the Gospel into Mi by
Church,” r ‘ , '

.“ You niver spoke a truer sword than that, my
M,"said=flrs. Linnet, who accepted all religious
phrases, to: was extremely rationalistio in her in-
texpretation; “for if iver Old Harry appeared in
a human form, it’s that Dempster. It was all
through him as we got cheated out o’ Pye’s Croft,
makingout-as the title wasn’t good, Such lawyer’s
vfllany 2 As if paying good money wasn’t title
enough to anything. If your father as is dead and
gone had been worthy to know it! But he’ll have
a fall someday, Dempster will. Mark my words.”

“Ab, out of his carriage, y0u mean,” said Miss
Pratt, who, in the. movement occasioned by the
clearing of the table, had lost the first part of
Mrs, Linnet’s: speech. “It certainly is alarming to
see him driying home from Rotherby, flogging his
galloping horse like a madinan. My brother has
 said-he expected every Thursday evening to be
callbdinto set some of Dempster’s bones ;but I sup-
polehe. may drop that expectation now, for we are

orbiddeii his wifeto call my brother in again either
to herself "Or her mother. ’He swears no Tryanite
doctorle attend his family. I have reason to be—
, lieve that Pilgrim was called in to Mrs. Dempster’s
' methadflteother day.” v ’. i
 Mrs.’ Raynor l she’s glad to do anything
thesa’ke of peace and quietness,” said Mrs,
 ,“ but it’s no trifle at her time. of life to
Will; a doctor who knows her constitution.”

, “. but trouble that poor woman has to bear in

her old ago i” said Mary Linnet,,.“ to see her

 / daughter leading such a life l—an only daughter,
’ tenthatsehe dates on.”

,.,ft, g .ind ,” said. Miss Pratt. “life, of
course, owmoro about it than most people, my

 attended the family so many years. ‘

 party); never thought well of the marriage;
 i  to dissuade my brother when
- Mrs. him to give Janet away at the

wedding. I ‘R..ywvwill'toke my advice, Richard,’

I   willshave nothing to "do :with that
v!  has Im‘tm‘mstiw of. my v

' opinion since. Mrs. Raynor herself was 

,,  at first; butshoalways spoiled Jae
m; and 5, fear, too, she was .- won over by a fool-
ish pride in having her daughter marry a profes-

   I {wit was so. No one but myself,

I Mimosa the extent of the evil.”
flew-3W?   Patti-fer, “Janet had nothing
‘tuiogwnhwt being a governess; and it was hard
 g I ‘ , so have to work at millinering-w
 i brought up, and; her‘ husband a- man
 w  hood asahigh as anyman in Thurston.
And 3 ifl’t everybody   everything fifieen
 _ _ Robert Dumpster was “the
clev' I ‘ man in Milby; and there wemn’t many
“ ., mfilflttwtalkto Janet.” a

3‘3 ~ to  pities,” said Miss Pram-chaos.

   
  
 

V5,,  tax-lyre” “Pettifer’s slight sarcasm. “for I *

 consider Janet Raynor the most
m'youngiweman of my acquaintance; a

much ted up, perhaps, by her superior
'ven to satire, but able
toflraisfharself very we 1 indeed about any book
Ivmonmmendcd to her perusal. There is no young
main Milby now who can be compared with
malarial; was when she was married, either in
ndndcr person. ,I consider Miss Lander far, far

  Indeed, I cannot say much for the

 superiority of the young ladies in our first
 1: They are superficial—very superficial.”
“fiends the handsomest bride that ever came
out of Hillary Ohurch, too,” said Mrs. Pettifer.
“Such a very-fins“ figupel and it showed off her
‘ white poplin so wol . ; And, what a pretty smile

Janet always heal/Poor thing! she keeps that.

w for all her oldgfriends.‘ I never see her but
she has something pretty to say to inc—living in
theorems- street, you know, Ixcan’t help seeing her

) often, though I’ve never been to the house since

 broke out on inc in we of his drunken
 cornea to me sometimes, poor thing!
'looking.u.so strange, anybody» passing her lathe
strut

. 33;»... 

given to understand from good authority that he has,

_ , , I .  see plain enough what’s the matter ;- but
she’s always got some little good-natured plan in her '

 

 

head,.fiorall that: Only bust night when Inlet her,
‘I saw five yards ofi she wasn’t fit to be out; but
she had a basin in her how}, full of something she
was carrying to Sally Martin, the deformed girlrthat’s
in a consumption” '

“But she is just as bitter against Mr. Tryan as
her husband is,.I understand,” Said Robeson; “ Her
heart is very much set against the truth, for I un-
derstand she bought Mr. Tryan’s sermons on pur-
pose to ridicule them to Mrs. Crews.”

“Well, poor thing!” said Mrs. Pettifer, ,“you
know she stands up for everything her husband
says and does. She never will admit to anybody
that he’s not a good husband.”

“That is her pride,” said Miss Pratt. “She
married him in opposition to the advice of her best
friends, and now she is not willing to admit that
she was wrong. Why, even to my brother—and a
'medical attendant, you know, can hardly fail to be
acquainted with family secrets—she has always
pretended to have the highest respect for her hus-
band’s qualities. Poor Mrs. Raynor, however, is
well aware that every one knows the real state of
things. Latterly, she-has not. even avoided the
subject with me. The very last-time I called on
her, she Said, ‘Have you been to see my poor
daughter ?’ and burst into tears.”- -

“Pride or no pride,” said Mrs. Pettifer, “I shall

always stand up for Janet Dempster. She sat up
with me night after night when I had that attack
of rheumatic fever six_ years ago. There’s great
excuses for her. When a woman can’t think of
her husband coming home without trembling, it’s
enough to make her drinksomething to blunt her
feelings—wand no children, either, to keep her from
it. You and me might do the same, if we were in
her place”? 1- -
' “Speak for yourself, Mrs; Pettifer,” said Miss
Pratt. “ Under no circumstances can I' imagine
myself resorting to a practice so degrading. A
woman should find support in her, own strength of
min .”' .

“ I think,” said Rebecca, who considered Miss
Pratt still very blind in spiritual things, notwith-
standing her assumption of enlightenment, “she
will find poor support if she trusts onlylto: her own
strength.‘ She must seek aid elsewhere .than in,
:herselfil’l  . 4 id fan» . -  V  ‘

Rappi eromov atoms-thongs" "ustten
created ay little confusion, which aided Elise Pratt

,to repress her resentment at Rubecca’s ’presump- .

tion iii-correcting hep—operator: like Rebecca Lin-
netl who six. months ago was as fligbty, and vein
a woman as Miss Pratt had ever known-rec very
unconscious of her unfortunate person. ,

The ladies hadscarcely been seated at their work

another hour, when the ,sun was sinking, and the f

clouds that flocked the sky to the very zenith were
every moment: taking on a brighter gold. The fits
of the little garden opened, and Miss Linnett,
seated at her small table near the window, saw Mr.
Tryan enter. " , _

“ There is Mr. Tryan,” she said, and herpale
check was lighted up with alittle blush that would
have made her look more attractive to almost any...
one except Miss Eliza Pratt,- whese fine: gray eyes
allowed few things to escape her silent observer
tics. “ Mary Linnet gets more and more in love
with Mr. Tryan,” thought Miss Eliza; “ it is really.
pitiabls to see such feelings in a woman of her
age, with those old-maidish little ringlets. I dare
say she flutters herself Mr. Tryan may fall in love
with her, because he makes her useful among the
y ‘ .” At the same time, Miss Eliza, as she bent
.mandsome head and large cannon curls with ap-
parent calmness over her Work, felt a considerable
internalflutter when she heard the knock at the
door. Rebecca had less self-command. She felt
too much agitated to go on with her posting, and
clutched the leg of the table to counteract the trem-
bling in her hands. I

Po'or Women’s hearts l; Heaven forbid that I
should laugh at you, and make cheap jests on your
susceptibility towards the clerical sex, as if it had
nothing deeper or more lovely in it than the mere
vulgarangling for a husband. Even in these en-
lightened days; many a curate who, considered,
abstractedly, is nothing ..more than a sleek bi-
manous animal in a white neckcloth, with views
more or less Anglican, and furtively addicted.- to
the flute, is adored by a ‘ “girl who has coarse
brothers, or by a solitarywoman who would like? to

. in good works beyond her own means,

i be a h .
19W  hescemstcthemthomodcloire-
document and at public usefulness. What wonder,

then, that in Milby society, such “as I have told you

it was a very long while ago, a zealous, Evangelical
clergyman, aged thirty:three, called forth all the
little agitations that belong to the divine necessity
of loving, implanted in theMiss Linnets, with their
seven or eight lustrums, and their unfashionablo
ringlets, no less than in Miss Eliza Pratt, with her
youthful bloom and her ample cannon curls,

But Mr. Tryan has entered the room, and the
strange light from the golden sky falling on his
light-brown hair, which is brushed high up round
his head, makes it look almost like an aurcole. His
gray eyes, too, shine with unwanted brilliancy this
evening. They were not remarkable eyes, but they
accorded completely in their changing light with
thechanging expression of, his person, which indi.
.cated the paradoxical character often observable in.

irritable, gentle and overbearing, indolent and res-—
olute, self-conscious and dreamy. ,Exceptthat the
well—filled lips had something of the artificially
compressed look which is often the sign of a. shrug-
gle to keep the dragon undermost, and that the
complexion was rather pallid, giving the idea. of im»,
perfect health, Mr. Tryan’s face in repose was that
of an ordinary whisker-less blonde, and it seemed
difficult to refer a certain air of distinction about.
him to anything in particular, unless it were his
delicate hands and well-shapenfeet. - :1, .

It was a great anhmuly to the Milby mindthat a.
canting Evangelical person, who would take tea
with tradespeople, and make friends of vulgar wo-
men like the Linnets, should have so much the air
of a gentlemen, and be So littlelike the splay-footed
Mr. Stickney, of Salem, to whom be approximated
so closely in doctrine. And this want of correspon-

cited no less‘ Surprise in the larger ‘towns of Luxe-
ter, where Mr. Tryan had formerlyheld a curacy;
for of the two other Low.Church clergyman in the
neighborhood, one was a Welshman of, globose fig-
ure and. unctuous complexion, undone, other a man.

dundance .of limp'crarat-Jn fsctyths sort gift-hing
you migbtexpect in men Wheadmfilsy Elih-
lications, of the Religious Tract Societygnnd intro-L
duced Dissentinghymns into thechnrch. ,

Mr. Tryan shook hands with Mrs. bowed.
with rather a preoccupied air to the .otherladies,

which had been drawn forward for him, while the
ladies ceased from their work, and fixed their eyes.
on him, awaitingthe Wake had wall  1 , ’
.“ it seems”: he began, inn low ,silyery tone,
“- I’ need-a lesson of patience; therehss been some-
evenin'g lecture. I have been too much hat on
on my own wisdom.” 

Mr. Tryan paused. ,He
inward irritation. v ,. , ,7  -, , . ,_

“ The delegates are come incontinent,” : “Has.
Mr. Prendergast given .way 9” p-“Ilas {hamster
succeeded ?”--were the, eager questions of three
ladies at once. . ’ x

“ Yes; the town as in an uproar. As we were-
sitting in Mr. Lender’s drawing-room we-,.heard a.
loud cheering, and presently Mr. Thrupp, the clerk
at the bank, who had been waiting at thefiad Lion
to hear the result, came to let us know. He sold
Dempster had been making a speech tothe mob
out the window. They were distributing drink to,
thepeople, and hoisting placards in great letters:
‘Down with the Tryanitesl’, ‘Dowuuith cant!"
They had a hideous caricature of  tripped
.up and pitched head-foremost cuts)! the pulpit.
Good old Mr.‘ Lander would insist on sending me
round in the carriage; he thought I should not be-
safe from the mob; but I got ,down atthe Cross-
ways. The row was evidently precmxcerted by
Dempster before beset out. He made sure of’
succeeding.” » . g . . - 

Mr. Tryan's utterance had been getting rather
louder and more rapid in the course oi this speech,
and he now added, in the energetic ‘chesuvoice,
which, both in and out .of-the pulpiyaltgmated,
continually with his more sivery noun,

; léBut. his triumph will be flShOI, “Rudolf/he?

 

 

.thinkshe can intimidate me by obloquy or “m _ :

 

Pond seated himself in the large horsehair easy-chair-

thing wrong in my thought or  about 

a large-Embed sanguine. blonds; all-once mild and v

0

deuce between the physique and the creed had ex— ,

of atrabiliar aspect, with Junk, ,blackhnir, and a re- 

doing good toMilby after my own  r
was filtruflling; 

 

 

JA NEWS” REPENTANC’E.

“I

 

he has mistaken the icon he has to'deal with. Mr.

Dumpster and his Wu will find themselves
checkmated, after all. . r. ‘Prendergast has been
false to his own conscience in this business. He
knowsas well as I do that he is throwing away the
souls of the people by leav‘ g things as they are in
the parish. But I shall £13m to the bishop—I
am confident of his sympathy.” ‘

“ The bishop will be coming shortly, I suppose,”
said Miss Pratt, “ to hold a confirmation?”

“ Yes; but I shall write to him at once, and lay
the case before him. Indeed, I must hurry away
now, for I have many matters to attend to. You,
ladies, have been kindly helping me with your
labors, I see,” continued Mr. Tryan, politely, glanc-
ing at the canvas-covered books as he rose from
his seat. , Then, turning to Mary Linnett: “Our
library is really getting on, I think. You and
yourHsister have quite a heavy task of distribution
now.

Poor Rebecca felt it very hard to bear that Mr.
Tryan did not turn towards her too. If he knew
how much she entered into his feelings about the
lecture, and the interest "she took in the library.
Well! perhaps it was her lot to be overlooked—-
and it might be a token of mercy. Even a good
man might not always know the heart that was
most with him. But the next moment poor Mary
had a pang, when Mr. Tryan turned to Miss Eliza
Pratt, and the preoccupied expression of his face
melted into that beaming timidity with which a man
almost always addresses a pretty woman.

“I have to thank you, Miss Eliza, for seconding
me so well in your visits to Joseph Mercer. The
old man tells, me how precious he finds your read-
ing to him, now he is no longer able to go to
church.” ,

Miss Eliza only answered by a blush, which
made her look all the handsomer, but her aunt
said:

, "‘ Yes, Mr. Tryan, I have ever inculcated on my
dear Eliza the importance of spending her leisure

in being” useful to her fellow-creatures.
ample and instruction have been quite in the spirit
of the system which I have always pursued, though
we are indebted to .you for a clearer view of the
mutives that should actuate us in our pursuit of
good works. Not that I can accuse myself of hav-
ing ever had a self-righteous spirit, but my humility
was rather instinctive than based on a firm ground
of, doctrinal knowledge, such as you so admirably
i torus.” '

‘ ' rs: .Linnet’s usual entreaty that Mr. Tryan
would “ have something—some wine-end-water and
a biscuit,“ was just” here a welcome relief from the
neoemity of answering Miss Pratt’s oration.

“Not anything, my dear Mrs. Linnet, thank you.
You‘iorget what a Bechabltc I am. Byi-theby,
wheel went this morning to see a poor girl in
Butcher’s Lane, whom I had heard .of as bei in
a consumption, I found Hrs: Demeter there. Ighad
often met her in the street, but did not know it
was Mrs. Dumpster. It seems she goes among the
poor 3 good deal. She is' really an interesting-
look‘mg woman. I was quite surprised, for I have

hedodthe worst account of her habits—that she.

am as bad as her husband. She went out
hastfiy as soon as I entered. But” (apologeti-
Cflly) “I am‘ keeping you all standing, and I
' must ready hurry away. Mrs. Pettifer, I have not
hadtlxepleasure of calling on you for some time;
I shall take an early opportunity of going your
way. ‘Wemng, good-evening.”

 

” CHAPTER Iv.

Ma. Tans was right in saying that the “ row”
in Milby had been preconcexted by Dempster. The
placards and the caricature were prepared before
the departure of the delegates; and it had been
settled that Mat Paine, Dempster’s clerk, should
ride out on Thursday morning to meet them at
Whitlow, the last place where they would change
horses, that he might gallop back and preps,” an

. ovation for the trio irate in case of their success.

     
 

Dengue: had 'srmined to dine at Whitlow; so
that at Pain as in Milby again two hours be-
f0“? .1116 en ' cc of the delegates, and had time to

send a wh up the back streets that there was
a “spree” in the Bridge Way, as well
 his two knots of picked mom—one to
feed 8 flame of orthodox meal with gin-and-water,

Your ex- '

 

attheGMM'neerigh Street; the other to.
solidify their church principles with heady'beer at
the Bear and  in the Bridge ay.
The Bridge ay was an irregular straggling
street, where the town fringed ofl raggedly into
the Whitlow road; rows of new red-brick houses,
in which ribbon-looms were rattling behind long
lines of window, alternating with old half-thatch-
ed, half-tiled cottages-one of those dismal wide
streets where dirt and misery have no long shad-
ows thrown on them to soften their ugliness. Here,
about half—past five o’clock, Silly Caleb, an idiot
well known in Dog Lane, but more of a stranger
in the Bridge Way, was seen slouching along with
a string of boys booting at his heels; presently an.
other group, for the most part out at elbows, came
briskly in the same direction, looking round them
with an air of expectation; and at no long inter-
val, Deb Traunter, in a pink, flounced gown and
floating ribbons, was observed talking with great
affability to two men in sealskin caps and fustian,
who formed her cortege. The Bridge Way began
to have a presentiment of something in the wind.
Phib Cook left her evening wash—tub and appeared
at her door in soapsuds, a bonnebpoke, and gener-
al dampness; thrée narrow-chested ribbon weavers,
in rusty black, streaked with shreds of many-color-
ed silk, sauntered out with their hands in their
pockets; and Molly Beale, a brawny old Virago,
descrying wiry Dame Ricketts peeping out from her
entry; seized the opportunity of renewing the morn~
ing’s skirmish. In short, the Bridge Way was in
that state of excitement which is understood to an;
nounce a “ demonstration ” on the part of the Brit-
ish public; and the afilux of remote townsmen in-
creasing, there was soon so large acrowd that it
was time for Bill Powers, a plethoric Goliath, who
presided over the knot of beer-drinkers at theBear
and Ragged Staff, to issue ‘forth with’his compan-
ions, and, like the enunciator of the ancient myth,
make the assemblage distinctly conscious of the
common sentiment that had drawn them together.
The expectation of the dale te’s chaise, added .to.
the fight between Molly Be sand Danie Ricketts,
and the ill°advised appearance of a lean bull-ten
rier, wereva suficient safetysv'alr‘e to the popular
excitement during the. remaining quarter of an
hour; at the end of which the chaise was seen ap-
proaching along the Whitlow road, with oak boughs
ornamenting the horses’ heads; and, to quote the
account of this interesting scene which was sent
to thevRathcrby Guardian, “ loud cheers immedi-
ately testified to the empathy of the how fellows
collected there with the public-spirited exertions
of their fellow-townsmen.” Bill Powers, whose

blood-shot eyes, bent hat, and protuberant altitude,

marked him out as the natural leader of the as-
semblage, undertook to interpret the cominon sen-
timent by stopping the chaise, advancing to the
door with raised hat, and begging to .know of Ir.
Dempster whether the rector had forbidden the
“ canting lecture." - '
“Yes, yes,” said Mr. Dempster.
jolly good hurrah.”
No public duty could have been more easy and
ble to Mr. Powers and his associates, and
the c orus swelled all the way'to the High Street,
where, by a mysterious coincidence often observ-
able in these' spontaneous “demonstrations,”
large; placards on long "poles were observed to
shoot upward from among the crowd, principally
in the direction of Tucker’s Lane, where the Green
Man was situated. "One bore, “ Down with the
Tryanitcs 2” another, “ No Cant l” another, “ Long
live our Venerable Curate l” and one in still larger!
letters, “Sound Church Principles and no 3wa-
risyl” But a still more remarkable impromptu
was a huge caricature of Mr. Tryon in gown and
band,» with an enormous anreble of yellow hair and
upturned eyes, standing on the pulpit stairs and
trying to pull down old Mr. Crews; Groans, yells,
and biases—biases, yells, and grmanly stemmed
by the appearance of another caricature represent
ing Mr. Tryan being pitched head-foremost from
the pulpit stairs by a hand which the artist, either,
from subtlety of intention or want of space, had
left unindicated. In the midst of the tremendous
cheering that saluted this piece of symbolical' 9-1“,
the chaise had reached the door of the Red Lion,
and loud  of “Dcmpeter' forever!” with, a
feebler cheer now and thenrforaTomlinsqn and
Budd, were presently responded to by the appear-

“ Keep‘up 'a

.x‘

 

upperwindow, where alsoweie'vlsihhgnlitfis
ad, the small, sleek head «in: fluid
and the blinking countenance of Ir:  -
Habempsterheld hishstin idem“
poked his head forward with abutting motion by
way of bow. A storm of cheers subsided at last
into dropping sounds of 4‘ Silence Pi “Hear him l” '
“ Go it, Dcmpster l” and the lawyer’s rasping voice,
became distinctly audible. ' ‘
“Fellow townsmen! It gives us the sincerest.
pleasure—I speak for my respected, colleagues as:
well as myself-to witness these Mproofwof‘
your attachment to the principles of-onr excellent

once of the public-spirited mule! 

'Church, and your zeal for the lién'or‘ of our vener-

able pastor. But it is no more than I expected of
you. I know you well. I’ve known you further
last twenty years to be as honest and respectable a.
set of rate—payers as any in this country. Your
hearts are sound to the core! No man  better
try to thrust his cant and hypocrisy down your
throats. You’re used to wash them with liquor of
a better flavor. This is the proudest moment-in
my own life, and, I think I may‘say, in that aim?
colleagues, in which I have to tell you that our ex~
crtions in the cause of sound religioninnd manly
morality have been crowned _withi.sucoess. ‘ Yes,
my ’fellow—townsmen! I have the: gratification of
announcing to you thus formally what youth
already learned indirectly. The pulpit fromwhich
our venerable pastor has fed as with sound doo-
trine for half a century is not to .be invaded by a
fanatical, sectarian, double-faced,“}esuitieal ‘inter- .
loperl We are not to hair'e our young 'de- '
moralized and corrupted by the temptations 
vice, notoriously connected with Sunday-arching.
lectures ! We are not to have a preacher obtrud-n
ing himself upon us, who decries good-works, and
sneaks into our homes,‘~perverfing are ‘iadfli (if our
wives and daughters! ' Weu'etmtwbe 
with doctrines which dang: .weryhmdcent may.
meat, and picks poor mim’s'pdckctfi the six—

pence with which he might buy'hitaself' a cheerful ’

glass after’a' hard day‘s ’work,‘1mder prompt
paying for Bibles to send to the Chicktawsi .
“ But I’m not going to wasteyour valuable time
with unnecessary words. I as: a ban of M {I 
(“ Ay, d—n you, that you are, 
for ’em too,” said a ’vdice fromtheero'mpmbnbi‘y '
that of a gentleman who was immediatelyafiere ..
ward observed with his hat 
“ I, shall always!» enticement” Mews:

townsmen, and whoever diam   A

or interfere with your momentum;- 
have an account to settlewithw. ‘  
“Now, my boys! you can’t’dotw  ‘
perseandcarrythegood mws‘b’iim .
townsmen, whose heartsutolsnanflrfl 
Letsome of yoagoonewayahdiw ' ". f
every man, woman, andohild humanity: '3':
what you know yourselves: lot .-
us have three cheers for True rm '
 Can't!” ' ‘ “ -' .43 v: “.s , .y Y
When the last cheer was dym' 
closedthe window, and the 
placards and caricatures moved 0!  r
tions, followed by larger or smaller    ,

 

 

crowd. The greatest attractions , 
the direction of Dog Lane, the" ”  i.
diford Common, whither the brow ,

ing; and you foresee of courses I
of symbolical art white-3 consumcdvflrhfa liberal /
expenditure of dry gorse-bushes Meantime,

mg. ' -
After these great public:  it  nat- "
ural that Mr. Dempstcr and his colleagues should
feel more in‘ need’than usual .ofta little new °  ‘
laxation; and a party ol’ their friends 17a? 
beginning to assemble in the large  the
Red Lion, convened partly bytheir own sun-loch},
and partly by the invaluable Mat 
capacious punch-bowl was put in  :
that born gentleman, Hr. Lorna-seated 
Mr. Dempster as “ Vice,” undertook to 
punch, defying the criticism of them? Mimi”!
of ofilce,‘ who, with the readiness ofirresponsibility,
ignormtly suggested more lemons.  fess
tivities were continued till long past midnight,
when several friends of soundrefigion aerator;
veyed home with some difiwlty, oncoffiimishom  -.
ing a dogged, determination to I seathimrielf‘in the . r ‘-
Sutter. ‘ ' - » '   '

 

 



.wwm—a: «x a, < y is.» c .. - - ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

"pinesamanrvof‘the party; and . .
thought strum that? the-lawyer could “carry his
.liquorelihoflfl” Nick,” with whose social demeanor

 

‘  v thrust itintothe door.

   
  

. .dingg’ugginfhsre you? 1’11 beat you into your
a.  m

'l 5091‘,  bpen on thei

8 p
v- w.

JANET's-.:esmarmzrcn 3

 

x... we“

numerator headers». mug}...
' 155

i. ties: to. the
. .l’fiend V Boots,

Bantam to be, patticularly well «acquainted,

"inevcrthelessthcughtr it might be as well to see so

good! a: customprin safety to his own door, and

walked quietly behind his elbow out of the inn-
fyard; ‘ Dumpster, however, soon became aware of

him, stopped short, and, turning slowly round upon
 recognized the well-known drab waistcoat

sleeves, conspicuous enough in the starlight.

‘8You twopenny pecundrel! What do you
mean by (logging a professional man’s footsteps
in this way? I’ll break every bone in your skin
if you attempt to track me, like a beastly cur
snifing at one’s. pocket. ' Do ,you think a gentle-
man will make his way home any the better for
having the scent of your blocking-bottle thrust up
his nostrils i”

Boots slunk back, in more amusement than ill-
humor, thinking the lawyer’s “rum talk” was
doubtless portend parcel of his,professional ability ;
and In Datupster pursued his slow way alone.

 lay in Orchard Street, which opened
oaths. prettiest outskirt of the town—the church,
the parsonage, and a long stretch of green fields.
Itiwas an old-fashionéd house, with an overhang-
ing. upper story; outside it had a face of rough
stucco, and casement windows with green frames
and shutters; inside it was full of long passages,

» and rooms with low ceilings, There was a large,

heal r knocker on the een door, and though

 peer carried a etch-key, he sometimes
chose to use the knocker. He chose to do so
' now} The thunder resounded through Orchard

Street, and, after a single minute, there was a
second clap louder than the first. Another minute,

' and still the door was not opened; whereupon Mr.

 mustang, took out: his latch-key, and,
withiiessdifieulty; ' an might have been expected,
W on he opened the door,

the: passage was dark. , _ ' .
,‘l met!" in the loudest rasping tone, was the

‘ next sound  rung through the-house. -

:‘E‘Jnnotl’lsgainwfbefore a slow step was heard
ochre storm-and a distant light began 'to flicker
onithe-wallbfahezpassage.a , . . , ‘

 .youl  idiot! Come faster,

 Pl

' detectors  and :thejifig‘ure of, a tall wo-
' '  cheery plated drawingmmm
appeared at the turning of the passage

 

‘ . use meteor entrance.

  tow dress/which set loosely about
 , ffiot disguise its liberal graceful
 ~ ~m-mer straight jehblockhair

         
   

 :0 ‘ A» , ,
it,   fastening, and hung over her

SW.  ’ y out teatures,pale, with

2' WW2mM some, had premature
*r  the years had been

by and the delicately (“lived

it noctrihllwlulch seemed made to quiver with :the

’ Inf, power and. beauty, mutt

{in  ,tofth’e hesi‘tpisrcing‘ grids/which
.  it“? 

J ,  tothe corners of the
“3   blockeyes had estranger
 paused, at the turning
and. silent: ' ehcrhusband.
' exam you, 11: ,me waiting in the dark,
' ' stating=2fioo1'l?l~ c said, advancing with.
 step. “ Whatl-you’ve been drink-

     

~ tenants hand with a'firm p-on her shoulder,
 and'push her slowly before
 “ ‘  throughthe dining-room

r oft hand. -
I“!  portrait of Janet’s mother, a gray.

 

I ghnma“'unrwea‘ne woman, in a neatly fluted

cop, hanging f' om ‘ the mantle-piece. Surely
tlteidgcdeyestalteon,a.-lcok of anguish as they
continent—«not Muscling, no l it would be better if

' shefa'tmmblwmndmigtupidly unmoved in her

great: beauty, while'tho ry arm is lifted tostrike

‘ her.  blow fallmm'themad another. Surely

1thef’rraid‘lrery heirs #11955 531W flab, Robert! pity!
, grava womanh Was it forties you
 arenas in your seriousness.
" '    Was‘lt torthixyouykspt'
little wmmo‘rocco shoes Janet had first run in,

 
  

l

and:  wheéezdaynby, do? when asks vww away
from you, atall girl at schcol? Was it for this
you looked proudly at her when she came back to
you in her rich pale beauty, like a tall white; arum
that has just unfolded its grand pureycurves to the
sun? ‘ . > \

The mother lies, sleepless and. praying, in her
lonely house, weeping the difficult tears of age, be-
cause she dreads this may be acruel night for her
child. . .

She too has a picture over her mantle-piece,
drawn in chalk by Janet long years ago. She
looked at it before [she went to bed. It is a head
bowed beneath a. cross, and wearing a crowu of
thorns.

 

CHAPTER V.
Jr was half-past nine o’clock in the morning.

iThe midsummer sun was already warm on the

roofs and weathercocks of Milby. The church-bells
were ringing, and many families were conscious of
Sunday sensations, chiefly referable to the fact that.
the daughters had come down to breakfast in their
best frocks, and with their hair particularly well
dressed. For it was not Sunday, but Wednesday;
and though the bishop was going to hold aconfirm-
ation, and to decide whether or not there should be
a Sunday-evening lecture in Milby, the sunbeams
had the usual working-day look to the hay-makers
already long out in the fields, and to laggard weav-
ers just “setting up” their week’s “piece.” The
notion of its being Sunday was the strongest in
young ladies like Miss Phipps, who was going to
accompany her younger sister to the confirmation,
and to wear a “sweetly pretty” transparent bon-
‘net with marabout feathers on the interesting oc-
casion, thus throwing into relief the suitable sim-
plicity of her sisters attire, who was, of course,
to appear in a new white frock; or in the pupils
at Miss Townley’s, who were absolved from all
lessons, and were going to church to see the
bishop, and to hear the Honorable and Reverend
Mr. Prendergast, the rector, read prayers—~13. high
intellectual treat, as. Miss Townley assured them. It
seemed only natural. that a rector who was honor-
able should read better than old Mr. Crews, who
was'only aourate, andnot honorable; and when
little Clara,  wondered wh com clergy»
men. were rectors tand‘others not; £11m 'arriott:
assured her with great confidence that it was only
the clever men whO‘were made l rectors. I 
Marriott was going to be confirmed. She' was‘a
short; fair, plump girl, with blue eyes and sandy

cannon curls than usual, for the reception of the
_~episcopal benediction, and some of the young ladies
thought her the prettiest girl in the school; but
others gave the preference .to her rival, Maria
Gardner, whemas much taller, and had a" lovely
I!“ crop “of dark-brown ringlets, and: who being also
about 0 take upon herself the vowsmade in her
name a her? baptism, had . oiled and twisted her
ringlets with special care. As she seated herself
with special care: at the breakfast table before was
zTownley’s entrancetcdispense the weak cofiee her
crop excited .so strong a sensation that Ellen ar-
riott was at length-impelled tollook at it, and to
say, with suppressed butbitter sarcasm, “ Is 1 that
Miss Gardner’s head 9” “ Yes,” said Maria, ami-
able and'stutt‘oring, and no match for Ellen in re-
tort; “th-.--th--—this is myhead.” “Then I don’t
admire it at all l” was the. crushing rejoinderof El-
len, followed by a murmur of approval among her
friends. Young ladies, I suppose, exhaust their
sac Oi venom in this way‘at school. That is the
reason-why they have such a harmless tooth for
each other in after-life. '

'The only other candidate for confirmation at Miss
T0wnley’s was Mary Dunn, a dra er’s daughter in
Milby and a distant relation of the Elias Linnets. Her
pale, lanky hair could never be coaxed into perma-
nent curl, and this morning the heat had brought
it down to its natural condition cf-lankiness earlier
than usual? But that was not what made her sit
melancholy. and apart at the lower end of the form.
Her parents were admirers of Mr. Tryan, and had

 been persuaded, lay-themes Linnets’ influence, to

«insist that their daughter should be prepared for
confirmation by him, over andabcve the proper»

hair, which was this morning arranged. intall‘er «

a large nesegay in her hand?

 

 

tiongiven' to ’MiSs Townhy’s pupils by Mr. crews.
,I’oorlltpry Dunn! 1m. arraidshe thought ittoo

 

 

gheayg ar-zprice fto ‘payvfor these spiritual advent-

ageayto be excluded from every game at ball, to be
obliged to, walk with none but little girisdinfact, to
be t e object of ail-aversion that nothing Short of an
incessant so ply of plumacakes would have neutral,-
ized. ’And rs. Dunn was of opinion that plum.
cake was unwholesome. - The anti-Tryanite spirit,
you perceive, was very strong at Miss Townlsy’s,
imported probably by day scholars, as well as en.
ccuraged by the fact that that clever woman was
herself strongly opposed to innovation, and re-
marked every Sunday that Mr. Crewc had preached
an “ excellent discourse.” Poor Mary Dunn
dreaded the moment when school~hours would be
over, for then she was sure to be the butt of those
very explicit remarks which, in young ladies’ as
well as young gentlemen’s seminaries, constitute the
most subtle and delicate form of the innuendo. “ I’d
never be a Tryanite, would you ‘2” “ Oh, here
comes the lady that knows so much more about re-
ligion than we do l" “ Some people think them-
selves so very pious !” .

It is really surprising that young ladies should
not be thought competent to the same curriculum
as young gentlemen. I observe that, their powers
of sarcasm are quite equal; and if there had been
a genteel academy for young gentlemen at Milby,
I am inclined to think that, notwithstanding Eu- '
clid and the classics, the party spirit there would
not have exhibited itself in more pungent irony or
more incisive satire than was heard in Miss Town:
ley’s seminary. But there was no such academy,
the existence of the grammar‘school under Mr.
Crewe’s superintendence probably discouraging
speculations of that kind; and the genteel youths
of Milby were chiefly come home for the midsum~
mer holidays from distant schools. Several of us
had just assumed coat-tails, and the assumption of
new responsibilities apparently following as a mat- _
ter of course, we were among the candidates for
confirmation. '1 wish I could say that the solem-
nity of our feelings was on a level with the solem-
nity of the occasion ; but unimaginative boys find,-
it difficult to recognize spostolical institutions in,
their developed form, and I fear our chief emotion
concerning the ceremony was a sense of sheepishe

,ness, and our chief opinion, the speculative and. :

heretical position that it ought to be confined to ,

the girls. It was a pity, you will say; but it is the .
.way‘with as men in other crises that come a long .

while after confirmation. The golden moments "in.

the stream of life rush past us, and We see nothing, *

but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we

only know them when they a _ ' ne. , a -
But, as .I said, the morninng sunny, the bells .

were ringing, the ladies of Milby were dressed in.

{their Sunday garments.

And who is this bright-looking woman walking
with hasty step along Orchard Streét so early, with
Gan , it Psalmist ’
Dempster, on whom ‘we looked with such  ity,
one sad- midnight,’ hardly a fortnight 330?:  . a;
no other woman in Milby has those searching. :

black eyes, that tell, graceful, unconstrainedfigure,

set oil! by her simple muslin dress and Machines '
shawl, that messy black hair now so neatly braid-
edin glossy contrast with the white satin ribbons

:of her modest cap and bonnet. ‘ No other woman

has that sweet speaking smile, with which she nods
to Jonathan Lamb, the old parish clerk. And, ah
é-anow‘ she comes nearer-where are those sad lines

about the mouth and eyes on which that: street .
smile plays like sunbeams on the storm-beaten,

beauty of the full and ripened com. ‘

She is turning out of Orchard Street, and mak-
ing her way as fast as she can to her mother’s
house, a pleasant cottage facing the roadside ‘
meadow, from which the hay is  (Ema-v
Mrs. Raynor has ,had her breakfast, and is seated
in her arm-chair reading, when Janet opens the
door, saying in her most playful voice: - _’

“Please,mother, I’m come to show myself to
you before I go to the parsonage. Have I put on
my pretty cap and bonnet to satisfy you ?”

Mrs. Raynor looked over herspectaeles, and met
her daughter’s glance with eyes as, dark and lovin
as her own. She was a much smaller women than
Janet, both. infigure and feature, the chief resem.

blance lying in the eyes and the clear brunette com.
.plerion. .The'mother’s hair had long been gray, and
,wss'gathered under the neutest of caps, made by.)
her own clever fingers, as all Janet’s caps. and  

   

,...\
1n

‘  " m, - m esteem ' finger-3'

* hoedb'y keeplggu ,Westabushmu bind in

; “thiei'ray  rogue. deride»;ng
-'   Vas- than  thought a ’firsorate ‘eduoationfies
* “violins” thfs‘m‘reia sum which,'ekedi out by ’ her' son-

Wiiiislaighuific’edito support her' in her solitary. old,
the same Clean, neat old lady, dressed

 “A’myt
- in3781aolr’silhwas~ 'Mrs.‘»Rayn0rh,'-aepaoen‘ a'brave

WM, fl isw‘ho bowed witherv‘wsignaxion’undervthei

' burden of remembered  andbere with meek
*fdrtitude-the new load that the new days brought
with them. ( . ,

- ~qu1: bonnetwants pulling a trifle forWarder,
ofl her,

' vmyehu ‘” she « said, smiling, and taking
,Sllecmfu‘les, While Janet at once knelt down be-
- wfor'e her, and waited to be ‘fset to rights,” as she
- Would have done when she was a child. “ You’re
going straight to Mrs. Crewe’e, I suppose? Are
« these flo’v'verstolgarnish the dishes?”

~‘ “No, indeed, mother. This is 'a nosegay for the

' middle of theltable.‘ I’ve sent up the dinner-service
and the ham we had cooked at «our house yester-

‘ day, and Betty is coming directly with-the garnish
and the plate. We shall get our good‘hlr's.‘ Grewe
through her troubles famously; Dearytiny Woman!
Yoush‘ould have seen herdift upher hands yes-,
A'terday, and'prayHeaven to- take, her before ever

V ‘sheshould have another collation to’get ready for
‘ thebishop. " She said, ‘ It’s bad enou htohave the

- archdeaeon, though he deesn’t want elf-so many.

‘elly-glasses. I wouldn’t mind, Janet, if it was to
all the old hungry cripples .in Milby; but so
mueh'trou'ble' and expense for? people who eat too

> muohvovery day/of their lives t’. We, had such a
cleaning and turhishing up of the sitting-room yes-
terdiyh Nothing will overdo away with the smell
of llre'Crewebvpipe, yousknow; but ,we have

‘ thm-itlnto the background with yellow soap and
 Andnowl must'run awayu You will
comertoehunchnrdtherr’,‘ i . f : a, ,-

. I When dear, I wouldn’t lose such; a pretty
sights-It oeamy old eyeargoiod to see somany
freshyounQiaces." Is your husband going l”

a ., t‘erankRobert will be there. I’ve modeth as
a  morning, and hesaysthe
bishqp'wfllthin‘k him too bookish by half. I took
him, into Mammy Dempst‘er’s room to ,show
himsell’; .. Wehear Tryan is making sure of the
bishop’s support“; but we shall see, J, would

given;  ' ea‘and all the luck it will
.,  mdto vehinibeaten,.for -I- can’tenr peuted
durethe lit‘of'the man coming to harass dear K

ohms.-
amnahes myhodyyhappyiqdoommblefisn’t

‘ it, it'll”, ‘ . x , , 
“ Ah, child, I’m afraid there’s no Gospel will do
that here below.” . H ‘ '

“ Well, Loan 'do something to comfort Mrs.
 tillehurolfitiMJl  a a t I I ,_ n ‘_
.- -  motherliaauod back, in. her chalrrvghenda-
western gone, and, sunhinto a painful reverie.
i «Memoir:- life is aoontinuous trial, the moments of
m zoom onlyto; substitute the lmavinosa of

» : dread? afor- :thezheaviness . ofaaotuslsufiering; the

5' ourta‘rmoficloud seems partedan instant only that
‘ all its horror as it _h80831°ws
block, and imagination: :oontrast: with, the transient

   vats thatlvlsitthuvparched
,lrpasimthezdeaert hear wit them only thekeen im-

aginatidn (JEWEL: Janet/looked glad and tender
now-wbutrwhat monster  was coming next?
y She «was too ~hkerthe cistuspflowers iu-the little gal:-

 denrbefm‘e thvzt‘Mnflom‘thefi. with the shades or

evening. might ‘m'lfifihrths-‘delioate white and

glossy-dark 'of their petala‘trampledin the roadside
dust. :Whanthe sun had sunk, and the twilight

was deepening, Janet might be .sittingthers, heat~
efimiddeued, sobbing out her
Mom‘andwildly wishing horse deeds , ,

Hrs. Raynor; had been

harsher septh ‘ Surelth eternal love the bee
vli’erdein-th h allthe sadness of; her lot Would

 her-c

‘ was

mw‘ahoru not in

the

I ‘ for
,, Mm. We,  appeasement: in“ humiliate.

tsunami-3.68pm we?“ excepleill 3?“ W399“
illusion;  carious stleevesrannot‘be ere

Krogfléewe in their last daydi  '
: ‘ifiszmooapelynmr That. hf-thozhmflmpelr

and black hair.
give me .a kiss,- aud good-bye ;

' fa With selfish

, reading,  the lost
sheep, and thejoy’ there is; in heaven our the sin,

hi to wander , farther. and farther
 thither-e was with the
«thunk-rely, so pitiful to others, some, till she
Linton-3b m’ohitmrmowsl.
liar W tom»

WWW

 

"JAzNET’S REPENTANCE

‘ehdkhemnothing or: doctrinal ' greatness of
.llaaTx-yame heaters 117on have edueidered her (168*

titute‘; at saving knowledge, and}; ‘am quite, sure
she had unwellrdefinodzsiews onxjustifieation.‘ New

u-theless, Shagl‘eadflheri 1Bka a great. deal.‘ and
thought, she found; divineasleswnozthel‘er-how ‘0

bear the cross meeklyyandibozruereiful. Let us

hopethatthere’ Ilsa saving} ignorance, and that Mrs.

Raynor was justified without knowing exaotly:

: 7 She triedto have hope antitrust, though it was
hard to believe that * the ‘future would be anything

' else thsnthe harvest of the seed that Was being

sewn beforelher eyes; Bht always there is 
beingsown silently and unseen, undeverywhere

there come sweet flowers without our foresight or

labor. .We reap what we sow, but Nature has love
over and above that ‘ justice,- and gives us shadow
and blossom and fruit that spring from no plants!
ingofours. I, '  . _ ’

 

CHAPTER VI.

.  Mosr people must have agreed 'with Mrs. RaynOr

that the confirmatiowthat day was a pretty sight,
at least when those slight girlish forms and fair
young faces moved in a white rivulet along the
aisles, and flowed into kneeling semicircles under
the light ,of the great chancel window softened by
patches of .dark old painted. glass; and one mend
think that to look-on while a pair of venerable
hands pressed such young heads, and a venerable
face looked upward for a. blessing on them, would
be very, likely to make thegheart swell gently, and
to moisten, the eyes. .I.Yet I' remember the eyes
seemed very dry in ‘Milby Church that day, 
withstanding that the bishop was an old. man, and
probably venerable (for, though he was not an
eminent Grecian, he was the; brother of a Whig,
lord); jand ,I. think theeyes must , have remained:

 

dry; because hehad small, delicate, womanish hands,

sdomd‘w'ith Meemdlimtead. of hiring them
911, the girlslyrmjust let them; hover over each

. 1n; quick. necession, as if it, were no etiquette

to touch them, and 'as it the layingjon of hands]
were like the theatrical embrace—wart of the play,
and not to be really belieVed in. Tobe sure, there
were a great many heads, and the bishop‘s time
was  Moreover, swig can, under no cir—‘

logo sweetly to wheart,.exqept :1 washer-
woman’sg'» (y; ,'
I knoszeeBhirps, shame ‘nst me, and
Isam our.»w  (ms; _,ha,Ve-..mwromothsnél
should have one without him, whispered that, he,
timughttliehf was ,al“gu food I pertainy-
remember; ' that  render, ,t'lonh ,
uiuch more; dignified, with hisphin .Whlte;8l1VPli%

He was Mal romancing mob,

 

 

‘ A

andreadithe Liter )7 in. a mi. in’ .151" roamed
uniform ’voicerWhglch I tried to ’ itate the next
Sunday

em! other olergymen. He looked pale, and rubbed,

hishand orerhis face, and pushed hack his. hair.

oftener  usual.  ;in the aisle [close to.
him, and repeatin the responses. yith‘ 
loudness,  Mn, “dd, churchyarden and, delta;

gatewith a'white staff in, his Madrflild Iflflwka

wardbend. of, his small head and personrsuoh, as,» L
suppose, heoonsidered suitable to a_friend of sound,
religion. Go , icuous in the _gallery,et00, was the
tall figureiofnégl . Dempster, whose protessio’nal
vocations. rarely allowed/him to coonp‘y‘his place
“church-t, , ,  v 

, “ There’s Dempster,”4 said momma to her
daughter Afar-y, “looking more reapectable than
usual, I declare. , He’s etia fine Speech by heart
to make to thobishop. I 11 answer for it; lint he’ll
be pretty Well s ' ,ledwith anuufbefom 
is over, andthe _ ‘ hopivron’t be able to listen to,
 forvsneeaing, that's one comfort.”

 At. length he last stage in u; museum: toes

rum? a)
weary jto e 

hishoé.,rotlrod,tom  4 
' W" ' em.

the-largo assembly  Vermeer!
'  
w is she 
Tryauoutho great

    

.“ to

“safe ' rd???

water caught domino tonne

Tammy; ‘ hm  ,_
as“ ' out" trots“; '1  * '
eyesore", . Rainy: our?
atghorne, until my: little sister began to, 31‘!“er my mill.” ' ’ ' ‘
pry, and saidlwas “youring at hex-3?: “ l c 
*Mr- Tumor; in spew; near the pulpit with, my: .

“end {of ‘ Shem; *Ifi- B  Res

* 9

U L

mm.” /, _.. N,

once more as quiet  finder the shadow of
its tall elms, and the only traces of the bishop‘s
recent. presence» therewere the Whthn the
gravel,z»andfthealongctablemithfiits 
sorry, its damask.  withga‘nmbsianl its
decanters without their'stoppers:~=:-Hr; Grove-av»
already, calmlylmokisg  int-the ,0 ite
sitting-room, and Janet.,Was fingeringwit Airs.
Grewe that some of, the ‘hlaaemenge;muldsfbe a
nice t ' intake to'Sally Martinywhilewthd: little
'old lady‘herself had a spoon ill/319!  teeth, to
gather the crumbs'intq unplategthat she might
scatter them on the gravel 5er tholittle birds. ::
Before thattime the bishop’emmge‘f  rhizome
seen driving through the High-'Stréa'mriw way to
Lord Trufiord’s,’ where he wast!) dhaerr: Theories-
tion of the lecture was decided,~th®»?g 2- € ifef
The nature” ofthe’decisioh 
from the followin ‘ ‘ obnversation whidh' 
in the bar of the f Lion‘lzh‘utr  ' ’ 1"?“  “
“So you’re done, eh,y"Dempsterl‘”.was 'flri‘Pil-
grim’s observation, uttered with’some gusto; ~‘{He
:was not glad Mr; Trya'f‘ adg'aiiietl'his Mhut
he has not sorry   ' 

“Done, so? Not at“ill.'“11tj.is what mm.
pated.  knew we had'noth‘  “expect ,1 i  in
these days, when the Church is; infested 513; set
of men who are onlyfit to give out 
empty cash to tunes {setgb'y a 
But I washot the ‘less' temeiei'tflihyéelffiin the

cause or sound ammonium: the good ‘or the

town; » Any cowandrcafi'fi’glit a.ha'.ttl‘e‘_ivhen he’s

sure of Winning; but give me the,me who has
pluck to‘.fight whenghe’s”"sored—losing. ,That’s
my 'way, so; and thereon :Iilli-ily‘viétorie‘s "Worse
than; a defeat, as, MrJTryan learn to his
cost. , 4 f f   '  7T?
bls‘l‘lfl'e    " 7  i  I
' 33718, '7,“   a 
muongwitu‘fim   
811.. And, for   thin I'm} ishou‘ild been
well vii’out‘ bishops, if they’re ne‘wiserithsn "that.
Where’s the use 0’ havin‘ thousands a your an’
’livin’ ‘in’ a, penis, it they don"t out; to it.
Churgh‘?”nl f  1  I J» ;  “   
‘ 0'. are you’re" ‘  font, of", for“ "
Tomlinson,”     ,o; 
hear .‘me‘ ’a 
the chug-fin,  j some, .  l _
f mitigate but if  this ,1;  , :14
sit! ' Erfwdgtcg‘is  ‘.i;;  
Fe”? “in”: i5 .013  .."   
brandy‘is; a’good‘ thirtieth,“ « ., W filer
British,‘ are , z

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,Iookingjouttfor anotherjcu I, k _, , I I
,, risen  new
beer-his? _, 4  ,   
observed r.Budd.   "who keepaysinfgle
workmanon tiny  etggther goes; r vmfihe
leogyre  sweats ,ssxbeflrheleesmgtehim

 Nor   
Termite ahafl,;wn9¥m wk er. v’e awagei 0"
mine. that»:  Wed on. (111’ I has 
besideser utmofiermefmino’g '   '
“1.39m. ,, '1“    .Jl,
thoughtful}; Pdgsfihai are new  brittle
tea.” said 1k Pilgrim. “ I Should say 
as wants), let  and his   {lithe
t, r W urem- “theme ‘
n“- 9 store ‘. fitflrQ
 ,ou’llhe rid oé'him  
e’ll, not allow himltovdo‘  fiat insury,”
Midlaflem f‘Sncat, " hishusithfl ls'uot‘ 

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6MP?“ VII. “I shallan happy whenhlgzsve ihumto lore single-handed. M £5th with maécanm ho '

‘  ‘ , mo all;”then,w the us wasme '. any resume. 0 new will
.‘hmmmmymatmmm careless, “My child will comfort me;” them'bethsirsttocry ' Milbyvilldo-better
‘M - ~ Emma“me throughthemother’swatebtngandtofl,“l{ychild wtthoutlrfll‘ryan wkhautmwm
Ir wealth heat-and h - . , . t
kq'fih ‘  it“ ew,” W111 repaymesllwhenrt grows up; Andatlast,  Milby shall neverkbefloededm
. ’ I r I ‘ 0 m r
pmmm‘vflmofmefighwmechm after-the long Journey ofyears beenweamly cl as ngaslcanrarseabreaw _Wit_

- ates went torbed tolerany sober. Thus the day,
. whichhad men one of Janet’s happiest, because it
  byherin helping her dearold friend
w. M». Brown, ended for her with unusual quletude;
L, ,and as a bright sunset promises a- fair morning, so
a calml lying—downy is a good sugary for a calm

I ,, mm, fir. Danpster, on the Thursday morning,
a. was  best humans; and though per-
.  sealant, the humor, might result, from
the pros v  “a? lucrative and exciting bit of

5 ,_  A \ strong’s probable lawsuit, the

“A

 
  
  

p I 7 L 5w ._ subtless due to those stirrings of
 more  jly, healthy sap of human feeling by
3- which .' " tries to get the upper hand in us

 sihésieyéfit  to have the slightest chance—on
"Bitndfi-‘rnornings, perhaps, when we are set free
‘ ‘  _e‘ grinding‘hurry of the week, and, take the
. littleihree-year-old'on our kneelat breakfast to
j i a, ‘ , 'our eggand mums; in moments of trouble,
‘4  E deqthfirisits our roof or illness makes us de~
 pendent on ;the"’ 'tending’ha‘nd er a” slighted wife;
’ “in; uiet talks with an aged mother of the days
"“Wll ‘ we‘stcodat her'kne‘e with our firstjpicture-
, , or'wrpte‘ hot lovingletters from school. In
8, man,,whose' childhood has'known caresses
dye is always a‘fibre of memory that can be
V'hedvto: ntle‘ issues, and Mr. Dempster, whom
you haée'hrth‘erto seen only as the orator of the
.  Lion, and the‘d’runken tyrant of a dreary mid-
' might home, was the first-born darling son (if a fair
little mother, “That mother wasliving still, and
fl  new large blackiea‘sy-chair, where she, set
X thinugh the, lirelcng. day, was now set
' ; ’ _: _ 11,017,1i’er‘ (at, the breakfast-table, by her son’s
  'asleek i,‘ rtoisashell cat, acting as provisional
regattas-'- a}. .: . ,; .,, * Wk __, .1 k
  , om," ,‘mamsey.." 'y’youre oo in
“ «Mt—gent; this morning“. :You’re getting
, _  '  , ” Dennpster, looking up ,from
 if: , ;; _ weatherman ladyentered-
thirsty. 1,.  is skilled: than»;  craterscmdy
5' was;   0,3  WW White Whisk
‘f5'elkthpt‘,$li¢.l9¢lt§hdyej once been blonds, ‘a natty,
* '.pure:wblte suggest her hZeajd,;'and a white slian
  bvhfihsij‘ shoulders”; Yen. saw at‘a glance
; 4' -,.  “ new mignonne blame, stranger
'  ‘ fill}:s’slir‘.’dlngyr¢omplexioned son; un-
‘ =:  ' terns  toe, .whose large featured
i, ty‘seemed'always thrown into hi her
this sweetness: use name: he

    
 
  

  
   
 

           
    
  
   
 
 
  
 

, green}?!  tend 'her‘ mother-in.law
,  ,3:  complexion, endin-
M m rt, would hate gmwng if he
.,  .r,’ w ere-rem. .‘ him!- ‘e
n“ ‘ ,"w '6. wofiphavgl'lomsphaeahsm, sills
“(5% Merl; heusekeeper;_ In, a it‘s of
111 ,1  ‘ ,'attenu9atoher,s e had
i.izhafi1..i1e'snf. .,
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1   list" 4 Kareem?
  P‘sdfitx =Whldh‘oftem supplies
“’ h‘alisdiiée'bffimental agength ;' 3nd whatever
hex-tho tastiest: so W? to aggravate
the scheme 
  ,' ‘throg’gh‘many‘ascene'of quarrel
‘ '* and‘ia mugresolii y’s'heappedr‘edunconscious‘
 seventeen  screamed as rm,
* Wills. View

 
     
  
 

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. I Y.-. T .rfiléeshcjadbeenwhen
01.1.93. W L Kristi-st turnb-
, z e   a',.oten

 its  l“ M? 16¢
‘ ya 1 I " J i c ) ‘

13 HM? " t
In early youth, perhaps, they said to

1 A ‘

meanness,

:ver‘y ready to fancy herself in the way. .
[she Would like to shrink up to the size of a mouse, .

,table with an air

gummy between them, for

'glw‘ays with a”disposi’- '
, oaths wife rather than an '

.' Patient and Mute/she sat ,

‘ 2 ’.

some

. 0‘,  3.;  ,jg, } I":

 

traveled through, the mother’s heart is weighed
down by a heavier burden,
but the grave. - ,

But this morning old Mrs. Dempster sat down in
her easy-chair without any painful, suppresSed re~
membranes of the preceding night.

“I declare, mammy looks you or than Mrs.
Crews, who is only sixty-five,” said anet. “ Mrs.
Crews will come to see you to-day, mommy, and tell
you all about her troubles with the bishop and the
collation. She’ll bring her knitting, and you’ll have
a regular gossip together.”

“The gossip will be all on one side, then, for
Mrs. Crewe gets so very deaf, I can’t make her hear
a word. And if I motionvto her, she always under-
stands me wrong." . .

“ Oh, she will have So much to tell you today,
you will not want to speak yourself. ‘ You, who
have patience to knit those'wo'nderful counterpanes,
mummy, must not be impatient with dear Mrs;
Crews. Good old lady! I can’t bear her tothink
he’s ever tiresome to people, and you knciw she’s

think

and no hope remains

that.- she might runabout and do people, good with:
out their noticing her.” ‘ ’

“It isn’t patience ,I want, God knows; it’s lungs
to speak loud enough. But you’ll be at home your-
self, I suppose, this morning; and you can talk to
her for me.” « ‘-

- ,“ No, mammy; I.promised poor Mrs. Low'me to
go and ‘sit'with her. " She's confined to her room,
and both the Miss Lowmes are out; so I‘m going
to read the newspaper to her' and amuse her.”

“ Couldn’t you go another morning? As Mr.
Armstrong and that other gentleman are coming to
dinner, I should» think it would be better to stay at
home. Can you trust Betty to see to everything?
She’s new to the place.” - r » ‘ r . I

“ Oh, I couldn’t disappoint Mrs. Lowme; I prom-
ised her. Betty will do very well, no fear.” ,

Old Embers:er was silent after “this, and bet
gun to sip her the. Thebreakfast went on with-
out further conversation for some time, Mr. Dem
'st'er being absorbed in the pa rs; At length,when
he Was “ ' over the a vertisments, his eye
seemed to be can ht by something that suggested
a' new thought to im. He presently thumped the
of exultation, and'ssid, turned to
Janet. ‘ r ’ , g -
, “. I’ve" a capital idea, Gypsy P? (that was his name

fer his dark-eyed wife when he was :in an extraor. I

dinarily good-humor), “ and-yon shall help me. It’s
just what'you’re up to.” " °  ; r -. ' ’ ,

,“ What is it?’j and Janet, her-incoming at
the sound of the pet name, nowheard so' seldom.
“’ Anything to do with conveyancing ?” » ,r

, “.It’s shit or 'fun'wOrth' aileron fees—aplan
for raising ’e laugh againsti’l‘ryan and "his gang of

s . . , _ .

.Wfliufihwt-lfi-‘hw from the Ith

“_.Wliat is it 9 Nothing that wants a-needle and
thread, I hope, else I must go and tease mother,”
.‘ “No, nothing sharper ethanfiyour wit—except
mine. . I’ll tell ou‘whatit is» V ,e’ll get up a-prp.
gramme of the' nudity-evening lecture, liken play-

ha‘d that‘me I-bmv- 3’0“ MOW-4‘ Grand Performance of tha 091,8;

brated Mountebank,’ and so on.» V'We’ll- bring in

'the Trya‘nitcs—old Lander and the r6st—-in appro.
‘priatecharact‘ers. ' Proctor shall print it, and we’ll

circulate it in'the town. It will be a capital hit."
“ Bravol.” said Janet, clapping her hands. 'She
would just‘then have pretended to like almost any-

thing, lather pleasure at being appeale’dto byh’er

husbands“ she reallydidlike to laugh at the

.Tryaifites‘." [‘fWe’ll set about‘it directly, and sketch
it cut before you go to the allies; I’ve got 'l‘ryan’s

Sermons‘up 'Btsirs,‘ but I dori‘t think there’s any.
thing in theimwe can use. ire only just looked

[into’tliem {they‘re not at all what} expected—dull,

brim ' n this SMENT meted-1 . . . ‘ ' -'
 ’9" Nos ' ' ’s softi'as a sucking
‘ ‘ ‘ ' mismanagement.

stupidithing'si—‘Tnothing of 'the’roaring fire-andg

.’s,;

But now, get the breakfast things elated away,
and let us set about the play-bill. Game, Way,
come and have a walk with me round the garden,
and let us see how the cucumbers are getting on.
I’ve never taken you round the garden for an age.
Come, you don’t want a bonnet. It's like walking
in a greenhouse this morning.” '
“But she will, want a parasol,” said Janet.
“ There’s one on the stand against the garden-
door, Robert.” . . . g _ l
r The little old lady took her son’s arm with placid
pleasure. She could barely reach it so asto rest
upon it, but he inclined & little towards her, and
accommOdated his heavy long-limbod steps ‘to her
feeble pace. The catchose to sun herself too, and
‘walked close beside them, with tail , , rubbing
her-asleek sidesagainst their legs—too gen fed) to
be excited by the twittering birds. _ line, garden
was of the grassy, shady kind often seen 
to old houses in- provincial towns; the _ appletrees
had had time to spread their branches verywide,
the shrubs and hardy perennial plants had grown
intoa luxuriance that required constant trimming
to prevent them from intruding on thespaoe for
walking. But the farther end, which, united with
green fields, was open and sunny. . g ,,
It was rather sad, and yet pretty, to see that ~
little group passing out of the shadowinto the
sunshine, and out of the sunshine into the shadow
again; sad, because this tenderness of the son for
the mother was hardly more than the nucleus of
healthy life in an Organ hardening by disease, be-
cause the man who was linked in this way with an
innocent past had become callous in worldliness,
fevered by sensuality ,' enslaved by chance .im-
pulses ;, pretty, because it showed how hard it is
to kill the deepodown fibrous roots of. human love
and goodnesés—how the man from whom {we make
it'our pride to shrink has yet a close‘broth’erhood
with us through some of our most sacred feelings.
. _. Lainey were returning to the: house. Janet

met them and said, “New Robert,  ml,
things are ready. - I‘shall  clerk, and Kat Pig:
can copy it out after.” ' ‘

, once more deposited in her Amhair,
with her knitting in’ her hand, and the cat 
at her elbow, Janet seated herself at the . table,
while Mr. Dempster placed himself nearher, took
out his snuff-box, and, plentifully suflusing;hlm- '
self with.theinspiring powder, began to dictate. ,A

I What be dictated we shall see brunt-by. : A

 

CHAPTER Vin." I ~;  ‘

. ‘ :T-na next day, Friday, . at. five: o'clock. by the
sundial, the large bow-windowsotflrsuflemtne’s
parlorku open; and that lady hermit attenuated
withinits ample semicircle, having: table hetero
her on whichhe’r bestteam'ay, h‘er  ohina,;and
herbest urn-rug had already‘been ‘ V in
readiness for half an hour. Mrs. ‘Jermne’s beet tea-
servioe was of delicate white fluted china, Mgold
sprigs upon it—aspretty.‘ a‘ teaser-vice asqon need
wish‘to see, and quite ‘ enough: for; ohhnney
ornaments; indeed, 85 cups were without him-
dles, most visitors who had the distinction of
taking : tea out ‘ of them wished = that: such
charming china had already been promoted to that
honorary position. Mrs. Jerome was likeherchlns,
handsome and old-fashioned. She was Ilium lady
of sixty, in an elaborate lace" cap fastened by a

‘ 'frill under her chin, a dark well-curled front conceal.

lug" her forehead, a snowy neckerehief‘. exhibiting
itsample folds as far as .her waist, andastifl “Ya
silk gown. She had a. clean dainask napkin:de
before'her to guard her. dress during the .W
of flea-making; her feverlte geranium in the
team were looking as healthy as she gould
desire; her own hdndSOme portrait, painted when

,shewes'tw'bflty'yw! younseawas small“ down
onher‘with agreeable flattery; and al .she
:geemedw be mas  and pleasmt-aposition

“gaps:er welhdresséd elderly  needdssire.

 

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see.tha_,_whilehé;ws’s:’ta, l" 1' “ Us" ' sun, ,‘ W, est: mu 'was.g15entlymm, ppm
"as as asnake’ cuts!  THe’s begi ‘ .a. heatstmpee.,rum:edgby,.thetact' Wiggwgwmm

z

 

 

JANET’EvfiEPENTANCK , t!
thana nectar dream  demandkitchenthere'no,moaotonyof enjoy forthcreceptioucftheclemaé Inh—
piece, in  4,: her   exclusion of another; mrmtoattomeethisguest, thallium
watchmohsheheldla handas if were 'hutaoharming'paradisiacal ‘v ' of all that outsidsthedoor.  '- ‘

, lee ol‘the afternoon, andthat by,

, which she felt sure was not an
hmtoafaat, it had already struck six. The  _,
of use was  the more unendurable to re.
Jerome by her wonder that Mr. Jerome could stay
out in the garden with Lizzie in that'thoughtless
way, ta f it so easily that tea-time was long
past, and t t, after all the trouble of getting down
the best tea-things, Mr. Tryan would not come.

This honor had been shown to Mr. Tryan, not at
all because Hrs. Jerome had any high appreciation
of his doctrine [or of his exemplary activity as a
pastor, but simply because he was a “ Church Cler-
gyrnan,” and as such was regarded by her with the,
same sort of exceptional respect that a white no
man who had married a native of the Society Islands
might be supposed to feel towards a white-skinned
visitor from the land of her youth. For Mrs. Je~
some had been reared a Churchwoman, and having
attained the age. of thirty before she was married,
had felt'the greatest repugnance', in the first in-
stance, to renouncing the religous forms in which
She had been brou ht up; “ on knew,” she's‘aid,
in confidence, ‘ to or Church acquaintances, “ I
wealdn’t. give no car at all to Mr. Jerome at fust;
but, anal-nu, ‘I begun to thinkasthere was a many
things worse nor goin’ to chapel, an’ you’d better
do that nor not pay your way. Mr. Jerome had a
very pleasant manner with him, an’ there was niver
another as kept a gig, an’ 'ud make a settlement
on me like him, cha el‘ or no chapel. It seemed,
very odd to me for a ong while, the preachin’ with-
out book,‘ an’ thestannin" up to one on prayer, in-
stid o’ changin’? your ‘postur. But lalt ere’s‘noth-
in’ as you’inayn’t get usedto i? time; you can al'ys
sit down, you know, before the pray’er’s done. The
ministers say pretty nigh the same things as the
church persons, by what Ilcould iver make out, an’
we’re out 0’ chapel i’ the ‘moniin’ "a deal sooner nor.

' they’re out o’ church." An”, as for pews, ours is a
deal comfortabler nor any i’ sissy Church." M

Mrs. Jerome, you perceiye, had not a keen sus-
ceptibility to’ shades of doctrine, and it is probable
that, after listening to Dissenting eloquence for
thirty years, she might safely have re-entered the
Establishment without: performing any spiritual
quarantine. 1 Her mind, apparently, was of ‘ that
pen-porous, flint‘y character which is not in the

éast‘ 
quasars: getting start of” ‘e sun on the day’s
bust-flea. in chews he? senseless: offthepecee
ear suing  and the consequent “washing-
up} fags soonas‘po'ssible,”sothat the family‘tnight
be‘well in bed'at nine, MrsJJerome lode suscepti-j
ble ; and the present lingering pace of things, unit- _
ed with Mr. Jerome’s unaccountable obliviousness,
was not to be borne any  So she rung the
bell for Sam ' 7 -

“ Goodness me, Sally! go into the garden an’
seeatter‘your master. Tel him it’s goin’ on for
six, "an? Mr. Tryan 'ull never think 0’ com'n’ now,
at? it’s  We got tea over. An’ he’s ,l’etti'n’
Linus? dais. her fivck» I expect. mo. -.them
entryway-beds. ' Make her came in th ‘” min-
ute..  ' ‘ ‘ ' ’

No wonder Hr, Jerome was tempted to linger in
the  for "though the house was pretty and

‘ well deserved iwna‘m‘fi“ the White House ”-—the
tall damask roses that clustered over the porch
being thrown"  relief ,by‘r‘ou h, stucco of the
most yet the g en and orchards
were lifijalerome’sjglory, as; well they might be;
and there was homing in which he had. a mere in-
noeentpridee—pegce to a good man’s memoryi all
his pride ’Was ‘mnogent+than ih conducting 6;
hitherto uninitiated Visitor  grounds, and
making him in some degree aware: of the income,
parable advantages possessed by’theln’habitants of
the White V House in the matter .of red-streaked

   

  
    
    

       
   

er from surroun‘din damp. But on the '

 

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was Elegant to theeyes and good for food.’ The
rich war-border running along every walk, with

its endless succession of spring flowers,anemones,

'auriculas', walhfiowers,’ sweetwilliams, companulas,‘

sna dragons, and tiger-Allies, hadits taller beauties,

sue asmoss and Provence roses, varied with es-

palier appletrees; the crimson of a carnation was
carried out in the lurking crimson of the neighbow
ing strawberry-beds; you gathered a moss-rose one
moment and a bunch of currents the, next; you,
were in a delicious fluctuation between the jasmine
and the juice of ooseberries. Then what a high,
wall at one an , flanked by a summer-house so
lofty that, after ascendi its long flight of steps,
you could see perfectly we there was no view worth
looking at; what alcoves, and garden-seats in all
directions; and along one side, what a hedge. tall,
and firm, and unbroken, like a green wall!

It was near this hedge that Mr. Jerome was
standing when Sally found him. He had set down
the basket of strawberries on the gravel and had
lifted up little Lizzie in his arms to look at a
bird’s nest. Lizzie peeped, and then ’ looked at
her grandpa with round blue eyes, and then peeped
again. .

“ D’ye’see it, Lizzie ?” he whispered.

“ Yes,” she whispered in return, putting her lips
very near grandpa’s face. At this moment Sally
appear ‘
r “Eh, he, Sally, what’s the matter ?
an come ?T’

“No, sir, an’ missis says she’s sure he won’t
come now, an’ she wants you to come in an’ .hev.
tea. Dear heart, MissLizzie, you’ve stained, your
pihafore, an’ I shouldn’t wonder if it‘s gone through
to your frock. There’ll be fine work. Comealonk
wi" me, do I”

 V “ Nay, nay, nay, we’ve done no harm, we’ve done
no harm,,hev we, Lizzie? The wash-tub ’11 make

Is Mr. Try.

all"ht sin.“

, regarding the wash-tub from a; diflarent
point of view, looked .sourly serious, and, hurried
laws. with Lizzie, who trotted submissively along,
her 'ttle head in eclipse under a large nankin bon-_
net, while Mr. Jerome followed leisurely with his
full broad shoulders in rather a stooping postme

and his large good-natured features and white locks
shaded b s. broad-brimmed hat. , > . 5 p
“  erome, I wonderat. you!” said, Je-
rom'e,"in atone of indignant remonst'rance, evident-
lysustained by a deep sense of injury, as her, hus-
band opened tho,parlor~,d00r. “:When, will you
leaye oi! l’n‘vitin’ people to meals an’ net'lctten’
’em know the time? , I’ll answer for ’t, you nicer
said Ii werd to  Tryan as we should take 
five o’clock;- It‘s’just likeyou!” . n A ,  7 r
; f‘ Nay, nay, Susan,” answered the husband, in a
soothing tone, “ there’s nothiu’ amiss. I told Kr.
Tryan as we took teaat five unctia1;mayh.apsum¢
that’s a detainin’ on him. e’s a deal to do, au’ to.
think on, remember.” , , I v p I  V 1, 3
f ‘,‘ Why, it’s struck six i" the kitchen a’ready.’ It’s
nonsense to look far him _.comin’ now. ‘Soryou
may’s well ring for th’ urn. Now Sally‘a'got th’
heater in the fire, we may’s well hev th’ urn in,
the 11 he doesn’t come. I niver seed the like 6’
you, r. Jerome, for rain" people, an’» givin’ methe
trouhle‘ o’ gettin’ things down, and hevin’ crumpets
made,:an’, after all, they don’t come! I shall hev
to wash everyone 0’ these tea-things myself, for

there’s no trustin’ Sally; she’d break a forth; i’v

crockery i' no time i”

‘ ,“B‘ut why will you give yourself sich. trouble,

Susan? Our every-day. tea-things would ha’ done
'as well for Mr. Tryan, an’ they’re a deal convene!»
terto hol ."' , .

. ”“ Yes, that’s just your way, Mr. Jerome; you’re
al’ys'a-flhdin’ taut ’wi’; my'chany, because ,
itlmyself aforeI was married. But let me tellyougg

   
 
  

       

  
 

I bought,

 an elderly

 

“ Mr. ,Trymhew do you do, Mr. Tryaar ,Wel.
wmelotMLWhlteHonsel I‘m'glad solace you,
sin—I’m lad to see you.” I

If you , . hear-tithe tone of mingledgood-fili,
veneration, and  in which thh '
was uttered, even without seeing the face mt

completely harmonized with it, you would have no
difficulty in referrin the ground-notes of Ir. Je-

rome’s character. 0 a fine ear that tone said as
plainly as possible}, “Whatever  itself
to Thomasvermngaspioty. -goodness,
shallmhave my love and honor. All, friends, this
lpleasant world is a sad one, too, isn’t it? _ Let. us

elp: one another, let us help one mother)”; And
it was entirely owing to this basis of character,
not at all from any clear and precise doetrhtal» dis-
crimination, that Hr, Jerome had very early in life
become a Dissenter. In his boyish days hehad
been thrown where Dissent seemed to have the
balance of piety, purity, and good works, on its
side, and to become a, Dissenter seemed to him
identical with choosing God  of, Wu.
,That race of Dissenters is extinct in these duyS,
when opinion has got far ,ahead'of feeling, and
every chapel-going youth; can fill our ears with the.
advantages of the Voluntary system, the'eorrupa
tiorfs of a State Church, and the scriptural evi-
dence that the first Christians were, ,' n.
alists. Mr. Jerome knew nothing of this theoretic
basis for Dissent, and inthe utmost extent of his
polemical discussion he had not gone further than,

‘to question whether a Christian man waebound in,

conscience to distinguish Christmas and Beatenby

any peculiar observance beyond the venting of
mince pies and cheese-cakes, It seemed to himthat

all seasons were alike good for thanking God, des
parting from evil, and doing well, whereasitmight
be desirable to restrict the period for indium in

unwholesome forms of. pastry. Hr. Jam’s dis- I
sent being of this simple,.non~polemieal kiniit is

easy to understand that the report he heard of 
Tryan as a good man and a powerful preacher, who;
was stirring the hearts of the peoples, _ ~ 7 _
enough to attract him to the  Church,

and that having felt himself   there

than he-had of late been under ,Mr._~Stiekney’:adis-_
coursesat Salem, he had driven thither 
in the Sunday afternoons, md-had‘soughtanop;
portunity of making Mr, 81’s , 
The evening lecture was, a subaeot of warm-dutch
est with him, and the Hruflfryaa «met
“with save that  a “tangents... st:mfim~
ships. for shareware asters , imihfimailr-r
Jerome’s nature winchi must;th as  
where, and} in: so; kindly and uprights” resold;
01117 filed it in   he,

held to be enemies ofytruth  ,llr.,y

Tryan had not hitherto been to. the White: Honey
but yestetday, meeting Hr. Jerome  he»,
had at  accepted the invitation, to  wing.
there was something howishedto talk  He,

appeared woruand fatigued new, and, 

inslhwdsv with Mrs. Jerome  a,
chair and looked out on‘tho  an

air of relief. - a  T 
“ What a nice place you» have  l,

I’ve not manything so quiet  ’V

I came to  On»  .
I 1m, you (know, 
sprinkled with,  our Quiet
exec lathe deadctrnlghh”  .v  , :

.f‘ ear heart Wear heartlui‘hot’s
foryou, $00,“;l'18'? tail“. - Waikiki! be bett-
ter ferrous be sava more out i’the soul»;
“"3?” 17 :mu‘n '    '- ~’ 4

“ A,uo .,~  ‘ / e§0mucf1imejngm
found fro,snd,~hesld28,1- like  the.
retold." clfsenaianetcgoand-m 1 ‘ r 
to. see-W,.$hfilgsmtheirmvlry an ;  
gt: ' . _ hm. when looms Mggm~erery
 . There. are  lam.
heifers 
stile. wild doggwggeodg‘inmm» :  - -
 thisfil’ti‘; .l}"i,r., 1.: t" a  ‘3’ i 
 wort, eminence .  hr-
the appearances: 



 

 

  



Wflmiwm’  l A. V
mam couple, toseea little am; .. Kb,” ‘
 .Vhl‘le fmk‘m’    o I!

if

 

 

 

M  r.

 

if

flamers- REPENTA Nos?

 

,-
fl

rduni3‘blde.eyw,' and a cheek like an applebl‘os;
sombfiws‘toddlinglittleiglfl is the centerfof coma
monfifeeling which makes the most‘diSsimilar)rpeo-
meander-stand eaéh other; rind lit-“man looked
at Lixny with that quiet pleasure which is always
genuine. , if?

. “.'Here'we are, here We are!” said proud grand-
pa l. ";9‘-¥ot1 didn’t think we’d ' got 'such a little
gernsth‘isydid‘ you, Mr. Tryan? Why, it seems
butfthf’bflisr daysinee her mother was just such
another. “This is our little Lizzie, this is. Come
and shake hands-w? Mr. ’1‘ an, Lizzie ;" come.” '

' Lianne advanced’withoutv 's‘itation, and ‘put out
one hand; while she, fin cred) her coral necklace
with the otherf‘fand loo ‘ed up into Mr. Tryan’s
face withfazre’connottrin ‘ gaze.  He stroked the
satinhéad, and said, in is gentlest voice, “How
do you. do, Lizzie? will you give me a kiss?” She
put up her little bud of a mouth, and then, re-
treating a little and glancing down at her frack,
smz'f- W: I ' - “‘

“ Dit'i'd mynoo frock. I put it on ’tod you wad
touting.“ “I‘aliy‘taid you would’nt ’ook at it.”

“Husm‘hush, Lizzie; little gells must be seen,
andznoti'heard,” said Mrs. Jerome; while grand-
papa, winking significantly, and looking radiant-
wlth delight at Ifizzie’s extraordinary promise of
cleverness, set her up on her high cane chair by

the side of grandma, who lost no time in shielding '«

the‘beautles of the new frock witha napkin.
“Well, now, Mr.*'_l‘ryan,” said Mr. J erome, in a
veryserloustone, when tea had been distributed,
“let me'ihe'ar how you’re agoin’ on about the
leotur’.’ WhenI'Igwas i’» the town yesterday, I hear-ed
asthere was, pesssctitin" schemes a-being laid again‘
you. I fear me those raskills ’ll mek things
rel-yonpleasant to you.” ‘ V r V ,
‘tI’veno doubt theygwill' attempt it; indeed,
I quite expect there" will be a regular mob got up
on Sunday, evening, asthere'wa‘s when the dele-
gates‘r'etu’med, on purpose to annoy me and the
co f ‘ onion our way to church.” " 5
- ‘fafihfidhéflw' ospible’o” anything, such men as
Dempstw mi’ Budd; an Tomlison backs ’em wi’
money, though he-e'ah’t 'wi’ brains. Howiver,
Dolomite  fongollent by his wicked doin’s, an’
13m ’, red-f1 haven’t lose more nor one. gI‘lit-
‘   llamas, when Iput my sucks ipto
' , twenty ’eal‘r ago this hiichaelmas,’ as he
was-return"outa»‘pssseeutor o’ religion. I niver‘
lighted in aoliverer, promisiner young man nor be
washout. They talked ofliis‘bein’ fond'of'a extry
 an’ than, but‘m‘ver nothin’ likexwhat he’s-
oomb to   An‘ it’s “ you fmust- look
,forjiitfsv'ils'wycrgihlr. ‘mvit’s head-piece. ' His
wife,   an uncommon “favorite 'o' mine
upoor flung!“ 1h

 
 

car sad: stofi’es"  ‘ aboutjher‘now’f :

But  torn, she’s  to; it, Mr; Wynn.
A.  woman to the poor, she: idiom:
11% Les" 1 aE worna‘n as ' you ’need
wish‘étidt‘ellti , '. : es“ ! Vl'd‘ ,al’ys a likin" for 
stew mom son, spite o’ iterythi‘ngu :‘But'i‘as 
as  o  ‘rdllegate; businessfl says,
says  Marshallh‘ev no more sous wl

but ml  men rasfpessecutes' religidn."
_ *‘ He-ia‘efidontlythe brain and hand of the per,»
, ~_ secutlon," said- Mr, Tryan. “ There may boa strong
‘  . feeling " , ms lira ls'rge numerous-Vistas
“ ma" ‘1 gmnstbe nanom‘ the Hug-i o'eof‘
splrlfafikflhhiga in this place, v at ‘I thine - there
would-diam noform‘al opposition to he, lec~
ms  has not planned it. 31‘ a‘m‘hot
myself the least alarmed at anything he can do, ; he
chromosomal» be cowed or I riven’ away by
1 insoles“: " " “ '" 'ladanger. ,God has sent’me'tothis
photo was hls- blessing, r11 not shrink 1mm
anything! may have to encounter in doing his
 people. But I feel'it right to call,
on-olt.~'thoie  the value of the Gospel to
 are publicly. I think—«and Mr. Lander:
agrees with Wit will be well for my friends
taproocpd‘withmein a body to the churchon Sun-_
day evening.-  you Room-has pretended
washout-slime ' ‘  are op:
possewmrlectnre. New! with? that f  hood
_ to be #151ny contradicted What do'y‘ou  of
 x the  d have em:
», , imam-suite will make I. W013, V ,‘
f   v. , ,, ‘ ..~ .5, .3 .

 

"1 J .y  ,: . “whet
Ego-eylhm ’V'I’ll  one;  You

#5

sir, I’ll stan‘ by, you.

‘edness; Milby’s nothin’ to it.

chapel I’ve been iver since.
the Church, sir,’when the Church brings light to

.' i €119; may; put ms t’; inconvenlmodi ‘

3%."? «.
 mm  cinema“ “sons-

 

 

shsll not be wantin’ in “any slipper-t asil' can give:
Wye}: come to fit,“ sir; Milby ‘Was a dead an?
dark place; you are'the rust-man i'the' Church,
to my knowledge, as has-brought the Word, 9"
God home tothe people; an'l’ll‘ stun" by you,
I’m a ‘Di‘ssenter’, Mr. 'Tryan ;
I’ve been a Dissenter ever sin’ I was fifteen ’ear
old;but show me good-'i’ the- Church, an I’m a

:Churchma'n too. When I was a boy I‘lived at

Tilston; you m-ayn’t know 'the place‘;pthe best
part 0’ the land, there belonged to Squire Sande-

man; he’d a club-foot, had Squire Sandeman~ -’

losta deal 0’ money by canal shares. Well, sir,
as I was sayin’, I lived at Tilston, an’ the rector

there was a. terrible dl‘ifikifl’,,f0th\lIltIn’ man;

you niver seed Such a parish i’ your time for wick-
Well, sir, my fa-
ther was a vmrkin’man, an" couldn’t afiord to gi’

me any eddication, so I went to a night-school as

was kep’ by a Dissenter, one Jacob Wright; an’
it was from that man, sir, as Igot, my little school-
in’ and my knowledge 0’ religion. I went to chapel
wi’ Jacob—he was a good man, was Jacob—an’ to
But“ I’m no enemy o’,

the ignorant and the sinful; an that’s what you’re
a-doin’, Mr. Tryan. 6 Yes, sir, I’ll stan’ by you; I’ll
go to church wi’ you 0’ Sunday evenin’.” _‘
“ You’d far better stay at home, Mr. Jerome, if
,I may give my opinion,” interposed Mrs. Jerome.
,“It’s not as I hevn’t ivery respect for you, Mr. 'Try-
‘an, but Mr. Jerome ’ull do you no cod by his in-
terferin’. Disse'nters are not at 8.] locked on i’
Milby, an’ he’s as nervous as iver he can be; he’ll
come back as ill as ill, an’ niver let me hev a wink
,0’ sleep all night.” ‘ _‘ ,
, Mrs. Jerome had been frightened at the men
tion of a mob, and her retrOspective .re'gardflfor
the religious communion of her youth by no means
inepired her with the temper of a martyr. Her
husband looked at her with an expression of ten-
der and grieved remonstrance, which might have
been that of the patient, patriarch on the memor-
able occasion when he rebuked his wife

“ Susan, Susan, let me beg onyou not to oppose
mound put stumblin’blocks _i’, the way _.o’ dein’
what’s right: " I can’t give up my, conscience; let
v, . 1 '33 re r s , 
 “since you are nfiafisgm»
dear sir, it will be well, as Mrs. Jerome suggests,
that you shouldn'ot run the risk of anycxcite-A
mentflv‘ . , y‘ ‘ _ .,

“Say no more, Mr. Tryan. I’ll standby you, sir.
It’s my duty. ‘*I_t’s the cause 0‘ .God, sir; it’s the
cause 0’ GOd." ' ' ‘ , _ ,_ r
 T an ,0 ed his impulse, of admiration
and gratl ude,’ an put out, his hand to the;th
haired old man, saying,’-“ Thank you, Mr. dero‘me,
ihgkm’"  U , ‘ ' f .
g  r.” ', meigrasped the'proil'ed hand in silence,
andthenthrew himse1f back inns chair, casting:
'a’ re‘ ‘ to look at his wife, which seemed to 'say,
f‘W y don’t youfeel with me, Susan?” , i ' ,_, K,
i The sympathygof this simpletminded ,old man,
was more i clous to‘Mr. Tryan'than any';mere on-
looker moldehave imagined: To persons; buses
sing ' Ta: great deal of ' that facile p8 , olbgy
which prejudge‘s individuals by means 0 formu—
lac, and casts ’v them, without further a trouble; into
duly lettered pigeonh‘holes, the Evangelical curate

might seem to be doing simply 'what all other .

men like to‘do——carry,ixig out objects which Were
identified not only with his theory,,which is but
go. kind of semifinal-y egoism, but also with the
prime” ‘ e ism ' ‘isl‘fe‘elin . position may.
boom? saget to a man wig he as, christened
it persecution; a selféobtrusive, 'ovcrzhssty res
former oomplacently disclaimin all morit, while
his ‘friends'call‘ him a martyr, as not, in reality
a career the most arduous to the fleshy mind. But
iltr. hymns not cast in the moul or the gra-
tuitous ; martyr. ,With a power, of persistence:
.which’had been often blamed as obstinacy,"he had,
an acute sensibility to the. very hatred or‘ridlcule.
he did nothtlinch from, proVoking. form , of
 him  and, x, h be,
fronted his  menth y"  
considers ' warmth of temper.-hehtd'nopugm¢
in them. Itjwssoneetgghe‘
mmmnmmvm 

f 

 

 Yo!

 flie‘foollsh; to, bottomed? b" the in}:
justices: those who could: accusatory“; ms the
gemments  indispensable-‘ for judging "in  38mg;
am with  an chi-mm venom: some. thief
49PM???” bn' sympathy; fie led: ’fd’ri‘ has lichen»
constrained into a'positlon’ of antagonism: , oiwon-‘A'
der, then, that good old Mr: Jerome’s cordial iv’o‘rds.’
were ibalm to him: Iierhad Often been thankful?
.to an old woman for saying, ‘f God blessyo‘ug” to

a little child for smiling ’at‘him; toa dog for sub?

    

mitting to be, patted by him; . V ‘
, Teafbeing overby} this time, Mr. Tryan proposed
a walk in the‘garden as a means of dissipating all
recollection of the recent conjugal dissidence. Litr‘
tle .Lizzie’s appeal, ‘f Me go, grandpa!” couldnot-
be rejected, so she was duly bonneted and pinafored,
and then they turned out into the eveni sun-'
Shine. Not ’Mrs. Jerome, however; shenhad' a,
deeply meditated plan of retiring ad interim to the
kitchen and washingup the best teethings, as, a;
mode of getting forward‘with the sadly retarded.
business of the day. , , -

“This way, Mr. Tryan, this way," said .Tthe old.
gentleman; “ I must take you to my astur’pfu'st,‘
an’ show you our cow—the best milker' fillies
county. An’ see here at these back-buildin’s,how ,
convenent the dairy is; I planned it ivory bit my»,
self. An’ here I’ve got my little carpenter’s shop,
an’ my blacksmith’s shop; I do no end 0’ jObs heree
myself. I niver could bear to be idle, Mr. Tryan ;.'
_I must al‘ys be at somethin’ or other. ,It was'tirne;
for me to lay by, business an’ moi:  for winger"
folks. I’d got‘money‘enough,.wi’ only one ddughter
to leave it to, an’ I says to myself, says I,‘it’s time-L
to leave of! moitherin’ myself wi’ this world so-
much, an’ give more time to thinkin’ of another. ‘
But there’s a many hours atween gettin’ up an"
lyin’, down, an’ thoughts are no cumber; you cam.
"move abouth a good many on ’em in your head.
See, here’s the pastur’.” , ‘, , ,

A very pretty pasture it was, where the largo .
spotted,short-hornsd cow quietly chewed the end.
as she laysnd looked ‘ sleepin at her admirers—a
daintilyxrimm‘ed hedge all round, dotted here ’and'
there with a mountainka‘sh or a cherry-tree. ' l
 , “ I've A good .blt‘ more land besides this worth .
your while tolook at, but ma hapjit’s f , 'er‘ nor-1
youfd'like‘ ,toy'wall: nowg B see you! rye; f lly' I
resort .0’ potatssrourd loaders; We 1.36mi is:
£3133in to supply, you know.” (Here Mnderome

nixed andpsmiled si" ificsntly. “An’ that ts.
helimind, Mr. Twang: ) W
to u, Cler en l
mo e poverty an’ that than other. folks, an’ her a.
many c s on ’em more not they caugwell meet ;.
an’ if you’ll mek use 0’ my purse, any time, or let.
me know where I' "can be o’any help, I’ll tek it.
‘v‘erykind on'you.” ‘_ j  y L ' ' , ,
' “Thank you, Mr. Jeromégfil will‘dos‘o I promise“
o'u.‘ I saw a‘sad‘ case yesterday ;"a'colliél‘,,aiffine}
I road-chested, fellow, aboutthht ‘g-e-wa‘sjkllled by"
the falling of a’ wall, inCthe l’addglord.  I
was in one of the cottages hear; when aiéygb’cought;
 home on a door, and the shriek ofthawife has _'
been  g in' my ears ever since. fij'l‘here are. .
three ll“ 9 children. Happily.,the woman has her’
loom,“ so she will be" able‘ to’ keep out of the work»
house; but she looks very delicate”. . , , ‘
 2"“ Give "me her name,' Mr.,,"l‘,ryah,”, said Mr. Je.
rome, drawing out his pocketi‘book. ,“ I’ll call an’
seeher."" ’ , - .l .
Deep was, the fountain ‘of ity in the  old
man’s heart! He often etc is dinnerstintingly,
oppressed by the thought that there weregmen,
women and children with. no dinner to "sit down ‘9’.
 would relieve his mind by ‘,5 out lathe,
afternoon to look for some need tags could sup-t
y, some honest struggle in, which he could lend a]
, elping hand. That any living being should Want,
was’ his chief sorrow; that any rational being,
should waste,'was the next. Sally, indeed, having.
been scolded by master for a  lavish use of
sticks in lighting the kitchen fire 'andysrious in.
stances of recklessness with regard tawdloends:
considered bird‘ss, mean as seny think;” bothe-
had. notary emit 'aaihe'y . sunfish.
more the mists his  shone or 411
thucmeiahhmytfromj ' stem
.. ‘ he WM. to We .Wpi with;
 to the pallld sates-erg up
  under the turd!  stunt

o’ summat I'wantgd to say‘
he you, I'know, see a deals

 

a

JANEQ”S~ REPEMTANC‘E},

is,

 



. dtwasserx pleasantgtefln Tryan. to listen to-thg
sharpie- chat ointhepld. man-to walk in the shade
fiftha incomparablelgmhard, and hear the storyzof
the crops: yieldedg‘oyithe xed~streaked apple-tree,
and the quite.» embarrassing plentifulness: of the
summer  drink in the sweet evening
lbreath; of the garden, as they sat in the alcove—
:and so, fore short interval, to feel the strain of
his pastoral task relaxed. ,

Perhaps he felt the return to that task through
the dusty roads all the more painfully; perhaps
something in that quiet, shady home had remind-
ed him "of thetime before he had taken on him
the .yoke of self-denial. The strongest heart~will
faint sometimes under the feeling that enemies
are bitter, and that friends only know half its
sorrows. The most resolute soul will now and
then cast back a yearning look in treading the
rough mountain-path, away from ,the greensward
and laughing voices of the valley. However it
was, in the nine. o’clock twilight that evening,
when Mr. Tryan had entered his small study and
turned the key in the door, he threw himself into
the chair before his writing-table, and, heedless of
the papers there, leaned his face low on his hand
and moaned heavily.

It is apt to besein this life, I think. While we
are coldly discussing a man’s career, sneering at
his mistakes, blaming his rashness, and labelling
his opinions “Evangelical and narrow,” or “Lati-
tudinarian and Pantheistic,” or “Anglican and
supercilious," that man, in his solitude, is perhaps
shedding hot tears because his sacrifice is a. hard
one, because strength and patience are failing him
to speak the difficult word and do the difficult
deed. .

 

CHAPTER IX.

Mn. TBYAN showed no such symptons of weak-
ness on the critical Sunday. He unhesitatingly re-
jected thesuggesdon that. he should be taken to
church in Hrs Landor’s carriage—a proposition
which that , gentleman made as an amendment on
the original plan when the rumors of meditated in-
sult became alarming. . Mr. Tryan declared he
would have no precautions taken, but would simply
trust in God and his good cause. Some of his more

_ timid friends thou ht this conduct rather defiant

than wise, and,  that a mob has at tal-
out for? impmmptu,,and that legal redress is impor-
fect satisfaction, for hayingone’s head broken with
a brick/rhinmefle’beginning to question their con;-
sciences  demystst whether ,it was not a

'dutyrthsy-waedftp their families to stay at home ,

on; Same: atoning. .~ _- These timorous persons, how?
ever, were in a small minority, and the generality
«of Mr. Tryanls friends and hearers rather exulted

,in'an opportunity of braving: insult fer the sakeof ,
.apreachor to whom they were attached on personal ~
as .wellasdoctrinagmnds. Miss Pratt spoke of

Ornamenilidhy, a Latimar, and observed that

the, presentable afiordod amoccasiongfiot emulat;

ing their heroism even in these degenerated times;

:wh-ile’loss highly instructed persons, whosememo-L '

,ric’s ' them not well . stored with" precedents, simply
exprmsd'their determination, as Mrs, Jerome had

403%”:“8m4 by” the preacher and hiscauso,

believing it to be the cause of God.”

v WSW: evening, then, at a quarter-past six, . ..
Mr; Trynn’,.setting outéfrom. Mr. Landlor’s withs-

party of friends-wa had assembled there, was
soon joinedhy'twoother youps from Mr. Pratt’s and
Mr. Dunn’s ; ‘and stray persons on their way to
church naturally falling into rank behind this lead-
ing file, by the time they reached, the entrance of
Orchard Street Mr. Tryen’s friends termed a consid-
erable pmceSsiomwalking. three and four abreast» It
. was in Orchard Street, and towards the church gates,
that the chief crowd was collected; and at Mr.
Dempster’s drawing.er window, on the upper

floor, a mere select assembly of Anti-Tryanites'

were gathered to‘witness the entertaining §gectscle
'Of the Trysnites walking to church arm
jest-s and hootings of the crowd. .

To. prompt the popular wit with appropnate so-
briqfieisi numerous copies of Mr. Dempster a play.

bill’were postedon the wells, in suitably large and,

emphfific type. As it is possible that the most in-
’d“9tl‘i0113 collector of mural literature .may not
have been fortunate enough to possess himself 0
this production, which ought by all means to be

st the H

 

preserved  the, memes-18d. our lprevincial
religious history. .1, which a. faithflfl 9n?! =. u _ . ~
 A' p: ' i V» cease nnrnnrarsmrlll. I
To 'be given at Milby on Sunday evening next by the
‘ Famous Commas, TRY-lT-ON!»
And his first-rate company, including not only an
UNPARALLELED cm For. Connor!
But a large Collection of. reclaimed and converted
v , Animals ;
Among the rest
A Bear who used to dance I l
A Parrot, once given to swearing I
A Polygamous Pig I I I
. and 4 p I .
A Monkey who used to catch fleas on a Sunday! I J
' Together with a
Pair of regenerated menrs!
With an entirely new song and plumage.
Mn. Tnv-rr-ox I
Will first pass through the streets, in procession,
with his unrivalled Company, warranted to have
their eyes turned it higher, and the corners‘of
their mouths tu _ down lower, than any other
company of Mountebanks in this circuit!

AFTER WHICH

The Theatre will be opened, and the entertainment
will ' " I
COMMERCE AT HALFd’AST 811:,
When will be presented

A piece, never before performed on any stage,
entitled

THE WOLF IN SHEEPy’S CLOTHING '.

.. p or,
Tn: Murnomsr is A Manx. ;

iMr. Boancrges Soft Sawder, - - M Mr.‘TnY-n-ox.
Old Temper-cent, Godly, - - u .; Kr. Gmnn.
Dr. Feedemup,  - - - ~ - - Hr. Tome.

Mr. Lime-twig Lady-winner, ~ - Mr. TBYdT-ON.
Miss Piety Bait-the~hook, - - -
Angelica, - - -' - . - - - Miss Smrnma

After which

A miscellaneous Musical interlude, commencing

‘ ‘ with
 The Lamentations of Jeremiah!
IN Nasu. Rncrrarnvn.

, . To be folloWed by ' 

» a :The favorite Gickliug Quartette, - L
, I 'Iioo’Hewbirds whi: are'nochickeml j '
Theiw‘ell-‘know'n Witter—toner, Mr. Done, and a

Gander'lineally descended from the Goose that
flaidgoldeneggslj - - 1 :n   . ',

 I;   To conclu'dewith‘ a ‘

Gown Chance by the

. moire Orchestra of common".an  ;

~ But {owing totheunquidable absence (from ill-

ne’ss)=b£ idle :Bullodog, who, has left offighfing In
Tonic-"has kindiynndertaken, at ‘a‘moment’ei no:

tics,zto supply the, “bar-kl” \ , . .

 ' ‘ Thewhole to'conclude withla

. ' Screaming Farce of i,

_ 7 on rU‘LrIrJua’rcnnn

Mr. Saintly Smooth-face, - Mr. TRY-IT-ON!
Mr._Worming 1~§11;.ieti.,lter, - - Mr. ,Tn'r-xgr-onll ,
Mr; All—grace -work, '- - Mr. TRY-IT-ON ! ll -_
Mr. Elect-andgchoeon Apewell, Mr. an-rr-ox l l l '1

Mr; Malevolent Prayerful, - Mr. TRY-IT-ON l llll « '

Mr. Foist-himself-everywhere, Mr. TnYJr-on l I l! l !
Mr. Floutthe—aged Upstart, - Mn TRY-mos l l l l l !!

 

Admission Free. A Collection will be made at the
, . doors. ' v 4
Vivat Box I -

' The'satire,_though it presents the keenest edge

of, Milby witpdoes not strike you as lacemtingfl;

imagine. Bdt'hatmd is like fire-Hit makes even
light rubbish deadly, : And Munchiesth sar-
casms were notmei-‘ely visibleon the Walls ‘; they

f were reflected inthederisive glances: and ' audible

in the jeeringvoioes- of the crowd. “Through this

to  Lsioégsinenss and. no. ipunnfl no;
, a?»  ,, , .. r we a‘ “:3
biases, hee-haws,“but of y no'  fill e6,

- was Tome. P

. which stories NYSE 

_ r orient ground for exhibiting their {until 7'
5 Mr. Buddjharangued his workm ’

j .‘ "known to attend? the, evening .  

 

. gm... m .i m. .  H .. WMW‘N

'liéiiuqn, accompaniment "of  
Mr. rmmlwslred'pné ‘and‘ oompoSed,  his
arm to old Mr. Landor, whose step was feeble. On
the‘other side of, him was Mr. Jerome, Who still
walked firmly, though his shoulders were slightly
bowed. , ' , ' _ . ' ' '
Outwardly Mr. Tryan was composed, but inward-
ly he was sufiering acutely from these tense of he,
trod and scorn. HoWever Strong his consciousness
of, right, he found it no stronger‘armor against
such weapons as'derisive glances and virulent words
than against? stones and clubs: his conscience was
in repose, but hissensibility was bruised. “
Once more onl  the Evangelical , curate pass
up Orchard strce followed by a train of __ friends;
once more only was there a crowd assembled to
witness his entrance through the church twee.
But that second time no voice was heard above a.
whisper, and the whispers were words of sorrow
and blessing. That Second time, Janet Dempater
was not looking on in soorn and merrimentg; her
eyes were worn with grief and watching, and she
was following her beloved friend and pastor'to the

grave.

 

,, CHAPTER X. , ,

Humor, we know, is apt to repeat itself, and to
foistgery old incidents upon us with only a slight
change of costume. From the  0, Xerxes .
downward, we have seen generals playingthebrsgs-
gadocio at the outset of their campaigns, and con-
quering the enemy with the greatest ease in after-
dinner speeches. But events are apt to beindls-
gusting discrepancy with the anticipatio“ of the
most ingenious ‘ tacticiaus ;. the diflc‘ul’tlesgef the
expedition are ridiculousi at variance with 
calculations; the enemy as the impudcms  to ..
fall into confusiomas had  
ed of him ;, the mind of the   '

.to be distracted bynews of intrigues  in:

at home, and, notwithstanding the handsome com-
pliments he paid to Providence as his undoubted
atron before settin out, there every prob-
ability that, the Te .eumawill be all oaths 

‘ side.

(ms) it fell Out with’,nr£hnempptei;ixifitis.mmé
. 8 camp isnl, ainst. e    
all the. ,relnatufitfiuniph of  
stoke, t e battle of the  ’  j’ }
lost; theenérny was inposses. outline. i y
the utmost here. messing was; that” L 
ing guerilla Warfare ’hemi‘ghtbe  f '
Mommy. __ _  . ,,

   
   
 

. I For some time thiséoxt'ot memoir); 1 V,
“with count] ‘derable spirit; The. 8W" " bf  t
ridicule were made more formidable gym; 95 go-  15;, 
cool with calamity {and ugly stories, 

d

lotion concerning Hr. Tryan“

, .thh circumstantial millilitenfififlneresoon  913:-

 

 i" V ’, will -. '
, , ., [sensible 
gasses _ led by,  
tical indulgence inflice.’ ; ‘ , 3 r

ships were broken asunder, and :treble
relations who felt that reli cos d'   
mitigated by any. prospect; o a lessenséwi 
« it
an

   

r

  
   

mm “it” dismissaliiff theyor   i i “ ‘

Tomlinson, on discmreriiiigjhat “his: foreman won a

“rank Tryanite, blaster-ed 'to agree“: extent‘and ..
‘ would have cashiere‘d that valuable functionary on
' the spot if such a retributive procedure had not

been inconvenient. ,, _ _ _ ,

.On the Whole. however. at the end of a few
months the balancoof, substantial loss  on the
side of the ‘Anti-Tryanites. Mr. Pratt, indeed; had
lost a patient’or two besides Mr. Dempster's’  ,
but as it was evident that Evangelicalistn’hnti 
dried up the stream of his anecdote, or in theistic;
“1"er his» View of any lady’s constitution; it is

probable that a change accompanied by so few ‘ I L

outward and visible si was rather tho-mien

'th‘anflle 'und of his ' missalin  itional
cases. r. Dunn was threatened with the lots of- '

several good customers, Mrs.   v Hrs.

Lowme having set the example of orderin  i

send in his bill; and the‘draper began to ooh fore ‘
ward to his next stock-taking with an anxiety

 

 

JANET’B’ REPENTA NOB.

 

W I

 

15
which, was but ., tly mi ted bythe llcl
his‘wife _ wmweenflfiown case smut
of ‘ Heshech, and Abednego, who were

thrust into a burning fiery furnace. F019 as he
obserVod to her the next morning, with that per-
epicaci’ty which belongs to the period of shaving,
whereas their deliverance consisted in the fact that
their linen and woolen goods were not consumed,
his own deliverance lay in precisely the opposite
result. But convenience, that admirable branch
system from the main line of self-interest, makes
us all fellow-hel in spite of adverse resolutions.
It is probable t at no speculative or theological
hatred would be ultimately strong enough to resist
the persuasive power of convenience; that a lati-
tudinarian baker, whose breadvvas honorably free
from alum, Would command the custom of any
dyspeptic Puseite; that an Armenian with the
toOthache Wool prefer ‘a skilful Calvinistic dentist
‘to a bungler stench against the doctrines of Elec-
tion’and. Final Perseverance, who would be likely
to break the tooth in the’head; and that a. Fly
mouth, Brether, who had a well-furnished grocery
_shop?j‘in' afavorable vicinage, would occasionally
have’th‘e pleasure of furnishing sugar or vinegar
to orthodox families that found themselves unex-
pectedly “out of” those indispensable commodi-
ties. In this persuasive power of convenience lay
Mr. Dunn’s ultimate security from martrydom.
" His drapery was the best in Milby; the comforts-
blellise' and wont or securing satisfacto articles
bramornent’s noiice proved too strong or Anti-
Tf‘y’anite zen; and'the draper could soon look for-
wardtorhis next stock-taking without the support
of a Seriptural parallel. ' I
, 0n the_other hand, Mr. Dempster had lost his
excellent client, Mr. J erome—a loss which gelled
him out of proportion to the mere monetarylde-
flcit it represented. The attorney loved money, but

beloved. Wer still better. ,He had always been;
 of; tying early won the confidence of acou-
, , and ofan able to “ turn the prop

vacuole-soar“
of Salem round his thumb”, Like most other

tarmac, he had a certain kindness towards those

who had em loyed him when he was only starting
in, net a‘swe do not like to part with an
old weather  from our study, er a twofoot
ruler that we . .. . .
walleye, business,” Mr. Dempster did not like

 morasehis old client’s name from the 'ac»

costumed drawerjn the bureau. Our habitual life
gig, like? . a wall hung with pictures, which has been
 bythe’s‘uns of many years; take one of

’ thé’ pictures away,'and it leaves a definite blank

 towhlch‘ our eyes can never turn without a.

 of, discomfort. , Nay, the involuntary loss
for object almost always brings a chill
  omen; it seems to be the first fin-
 ot advancing death. ‘

 never think of, his: lost client without strong

"  .r  street its wonnwwdto him.
 when the old

Street on

:1; about there was a
 she was not _ .
fiasfined to be on her own door-step, and he couldi
3°? 198*“.
we nice little woman,” as he always called her,
though "the was taller than all the rest of his feral-,-
 manganese. Janet, inaspite of her disposi-i
tion to take her husband’s part in all public mat.)
, could bear no malice against her old friend;
{Io‘th‘ey shook hands. ' r
. , “Well, Mrs. Dempster, I’m sorry to my heart
at: “to see you sometimes, that I am,” said Mr. Je~
 in aaplaintive tone. “ But if you’ve got any
' r peeple aswants help, and you know’s deserv-
ifi)’: send ’em to me, send ’em to me, just the same.”
‘ “ Thank you, Kr. Jerome, that I will. Good.
is 3’, ' , » ,
f  made the interview as short as she could,
but it was not short enough to escape the observa-
. tion of her, husband, who as she feared, was on his
mid-day return from his office at the other end of
the street," and this offence of here, in speaking to
MrLJerome, was the frequbntly recurring theme of
“Mr. Dempstcr’s objurgatory domestic eloquence.
uAssOclating the loss of his old client with Mr.
Tryan’s influence, Dempstcr began to know more
' ~ » i

 

ve carried in our, pocket ever since:

all these causes combined, Mr. Dempster‘

 'the’verysight of Mr. Jerome’passv
' I y ,  ' _ is no longer

gentleman was coming ‘
up, ,.  , , his rota mare, shaking the:
bridle, tickling her link with the whip as new 
grfect mutual understand-g
quicken her pace, Janet;

the temptation of htopping to speak to‘,

distinctly Willie hated the obnoxious curate. But
a passionate te,asweil as a passionate love, de-

mands some leisure and mental freedom. Persecu~
tion and revenge, like courtship and toadyism, will
not prosper without a considerable expenditure of
time and ingenuity, and these are not to spare with
a man whose law business and liver are both
beginning to show unpleasant symptoms. Such
was the disagreeable turn afiairs were taking with
Mr. Dempster, and, like the general distracted by
home intrigues, he was too much harassed him—
self to lay ingenious plans for harassing the
enemy.

Meanwhile the evening lecture drew larger and
larger cengre‘gations; not, perhaps, attracting many
from that select aristocratic circle in which the
Lowmes and Pittmans were predominant, but win-
ning the larger proportion of Mr. Crcwe’s morning
and afternoon hearers, and thinning Mr. Stickney’s
evening audiences at Salem. Evangelicalism was
making its way in Milby, and gradually diffusing
its subtle odor into chambers that were bolted and
barred against it. The movement, like all other
religious “ revivals,” had amixed effect. Religious
ideas have the fate of melodies, which, once set
afloat inthe world,'are taken up by all sorts of in-
struments,,some,of them wofully coarse," feeble, or
out of time, until people are in danger of crying out
that the melody itself is detestable. It may be that
some of Mr. Tryan’s hearers had gained a religious
vocabulary rather than religious experience; that
hereand there a Weaver’s wife, who, a few months
before, had been simply a silly slattem, was con-
verted into that more complex nuisance, a silly and
sanctimonious slattern; that theold Adam, with
the pertinacity of middle-age, continued to tell fibs
behind the counter, notwithstanding the new
Adam’s addition to Bible-reading and family
prayer; that‘the children in the Paddiford Sunday-
school had their memories crammed with phrases
about the blood of cleansing, imputed righteous.
ness, and’just'ificatien by faith alone, which an ex-
perience lying ~ principally in chuck-farthing, hop~
scotch, parentalrslappings, and longings after un-
attainable lollipop. served rather to darken than to
illustrate; and that» at Milby, in those distant days,
asrin'ail other times and places where the mental
atmos here is oh 'ng, and men are inhaling the
war: , us of new i. ens, folly often mistook itself
for wis'dOm,ignorance gave, itself airs of knotrledge,
and selfishness, turning its". eyes upward, called it-
self religion. ‘ y , . ,

N evertheles's, Evangelicalism‘ had brought into
palpable existence and operation in Milby society
that idea of duty, that recognition of Something
to be lived for beyond the mere satisfaction of
self, which"is to the moral life what the ad-
dition of amt-"central gen lien is to animal life.
No man can begin to moul himselfon a faith
or an idea without risin to a higher order. of
experience; a principle 0 subordination, of self-
mastery, has been introduced into his nature; he

sires, and impulses. Whatever ' t be the weak.
mecca of the ladies who pruned lut’uriaace of
their lace and ribbons, cut out gal-malts for the

.the true Gospel, they had learned this—that there

ness higher than the opinion of ‘theh‘sneighbors;
and if the notion of a heaven in reserve for them-

fitness for that heaven consisted in purity of heart,
in Christ-like compassion, in the subduing of self-
ish desires. They might give the name, of pietyto

callmany things sin that were not sin; but they
had at least the feeling that sin Was to” be avoided
and resisted; and color-b1indnéss, which may mis-
take drab for scarlet, is better than total blindness,
when sees no distinction of color at all.
becca Linnet, in quiet attire, with a somewhat ex-
cessive solemnity of countenance, teaching at the
Sunday-school, visiting the poor, and striving after
a standard of purity and goodness, had surely more
morailoveliness than in those daunting peony-days,
which she had; no other model than the costumes
of the heroines in the circulatin library. Miss Eliza
Pratt, listening in ' rapt ‘attent on to Mr. Tryan’s
evening lecture, no doubt found Evangelical chan-
nels for vanity and, egoism; but she was clearly in

 

moral advanée of Miss Phipps giggling under her

a mere bundle of impressions, de--

poor, distributed tracts,un Scripture, and Mood .
was a divine work to be done in life, a rule of good.:

selves was a little too prominent, yet the theory of:

much that was only puritanic egoism; they might:
forms of human thought and work the life and;

MissRe-A

 

feathers at old Hr. Wow of enunci-
atiou. ‘ And even elderly and wherewith
minds, likeMrs. Linnet’s, too tough to imbibe much
doctrine, were the better for having their hearts
inclined towards the new preacher as a messenger
from God. They became ashamed,” , of
their evil tempers, ashamed of their we ’ ass,
ashamed of their trivial, futile past. The first con-
dition of human goodness is something to love;
the second, something to reverence. And this lat-
ter precious gift was brought to Milby by Mr. Try-
an and Evangelicalism. v ' ,

Yes, the movement was good, though it had that
mixture of folly and evil which often makes what.
is good an offence to feeble and fastidious minds,
who want human actions and characters riddled
through the sieve of their own ideas, before they
can accord their sympathy or admiration. Such.
minds, I dare say, would have found Mr. Tryan’s
character very much in need of that riddiin pro-
cess. The blessed work of helping the wor- dfor—
ward happily does not wait to be done byiperfect.
men; and I should imagine that neither Luther nor
John Bunyan, for example, would have satisfied the
modern demand for an ideal hero, who believes
nothing but what is true, feels nothing but what is
exalted, and'does nothingbut what is graceful. The
real heroes, of God’s making, are quite difl’erent ;
they have their natural heritage of love and con-
science which they drew in with their mother’s
milk; they know one or two of those deep spirit-
ual truths which are only tobe won :by'lon'g wrest—
ling with their own sins and their own sorrows;
they'have earned faith and‘str‘ength so far as they
have done genuine work {but the rest is dry, barren.
theory, blank prejudice, vague hearsay. Their in-
sight is blended with mere opinion; their sym-
pathy is perhaps, confined. in narrow conduits of '
doctrine, instead of flowing forth with the free- ‘
dom ‘of a stream that blesses every weed in its
course; obstinacy'or seltassertion ’ will often inter-
fuse itself with their grandest impulses; and their
very deeds of» self-sacrifice-are sometimes only the
rebound of apassionate egolsnafl So it was with
Mr. Tryan; and anyone looking at him was the
bird’soeye glance of a critic might perhaps say that
he made the mistake of“ identldying'ohristiaaity
with a too narrow *doctrinattsyetemz» that he saw-
God’s-work  exclusively in V also; to the
world, the flesh, and the devil; that ' intellectual
culture was too limited—omd so on; making Kr.
Tryan the text for swine discourse on the chemo»
teristies cf the Evangelical school-in Monday. I

But I am not poised at that'lofty height. I am
on the level and in the press withshims, who ~strug~
glee his my along the  through the
crowd of unloving fellowsmeu. .He is stumbling,
perhaps”; his heart new beats {saws dread,ro
, eaviiy with anguish; his eyes are sometimes diet
with tears, which he makes haste to dash my;

be pushes manfully on, with ‘ laid: and
courage, 'with a sensitive, faili bodn‘at last he
falls-,the stru leis ended, the crowd closes
overthespm elmleft.’ w r a 
“One of the Ev elictl ,—c¥disciple of

Venn,” says the critic rem his 'rd’s-eye station.
“Notwsremarkable swclme‘ , n; the m ' y Midi ‘
habits of his species have been determined long

ago.” ' - » - ‘ g a . , '

‘ ~ Yet surely, surely theflonly true knowledge of
our {channel is that Which enables us to feel
with himwwhich gives us a fineeor for the heart
pulses that‘are heating under the mere clothes of
circumstance and opinion. Our-subtle“ analysis
or schools and sects must miss the essential truth,
unless it be lighted up by the love that  in all

deathstruggles of separatehuman beings.

 

,cnarrsa x1.

Ma. Tank’s most unfriendly observers were
obliged, to admit that he gave himself no rest.
Three cannons on Sunday, a- night-school for
young men on Tuesday, a cottage lecture on
Thursday, addresses to school-teachers and cats-
chislng of school-children, with pastoral visits,
multiplying as his. influence extended beyond his:

gown district of, Paddifordi Common, would have

been enough to tax schrely the po of a
much stronger man. Mr. Pratt remonstrated with.
him on his imprudence, but could not prevail

arm’s REPENTANUB.

l?

 

onh‘nnsofartoeeommiue time and strength
asto'kee’pahorse. (income mother,
whiohhisfriends'founddific ttoexplainto
themselves, It. I, seemed bent on wear.
ing himself out. is enemies were at no loss
to account for such'a course. The Evangelical
curate’s selfishness was clearly of too bad a kind
to exhibit ' itself after the ordinary manner of
a sound, respectable selfishness. “He wants
to the reputation of a saint,” said one;
“ He’s eaten up with spiritual pride,” said another;
“ He’s got his eye on some fine living, and wants
to creep up the bishop’s sleeve,” said a third.
‘ Mr. Stickney, of y Salem, whoconsidered all v01—
untary discomfort as a remnant of the legal spirit,
pronounced a severe condemnation on this self-
neglect, and expressed his fear that Mr. Tryan was
still far from having attained true Christian liberty.
Good Mr. Jerome eagerly seized this doctrinal view
of the subject as a means of enforcing the sug-
gestions of his own benevolence; and one cloudy
afternoon, in the end of November, he mounted
his roan mare with the determination of riding to
Paddiford and “ arguying” the point with Mr.
Tryan. ‘ I r I, I
Theold gentleman’s face locked very mournful
as he rode along the dismal Paddiford lanes, be-
theen'ro’ws of, grimy houses'darkened with hand-
looms, while the black dust was whirled about
him by the cold November wind. He was think-
ing of the object which had brought him on this
afternoon ride, and his thoughts, according to his
habit'when alone, faund vent every now and then
in audible speech. It seemed to him, as his “ eyes
rested on this scene of Mr. Tryan’s labors, that he
could understand the clergyman’s self-privation
without resorting to Mr. Stickney’s theory of de-
fective spiritual enlightenment. ' Do not philo-
sophic doctors tell us that we are unable to discern
so much as a tree, except by an unconScious cun-
ni which combines many past and separate sen.
cottons; that no one sense is independent. of
another, so that in. the dark We can hardly taste a
fricasse, or tell whether our pipe is slight or not;
and the most intelligent boy, if accommodated
with claws orhoofs instead of fingers, would be
likely to remain ’on'the lowest farm ? If, so, it is
easy to understand that our discernment of men’s
motives must depend on the completeness of the
elements we can bring from our own susceptiblity
and our own experience. See t: it, frieng, before
on pronounce" ‘ a too‘ hasty .ju gment, t at your
lyiwn. moral sensibilities are not of a hosted or
clawed "like keenest eye will not serve,

um clinic the delicate , Vfith ‘ their
snout  filaments, which ad's scientific

 and lose themde in the invisible world
or hum  _  ' -

' Ls for‘Kr. Jerome, he'drew the elements of his
moralvisiou   of his reiteration
and pity. If he himself felt so much for these
 towhom lifewa'ssodimaad meagre,
 the clergman feelwhohadundertaken,
befme be t‘ airshopherdl

“Ah 1" he whispered, interruptedly, “it’s too
 iorxhis' conscience, poor maul He
  himself their brother, like; can’t
abido‘toprcuch to the fastin’ on a full stomach.
Ah! he‘lsbetter nor we are, that’s it—-he’s a deal
better our ,we are”, : ,
' Ecru Kh'lcrome shook his bridle violently, and

lookedup with an air or moral courage, as if Mr.
Stickney use been resent, and liable to take of.
fence at this cone ion. A. few minutes more
ms t him'in’ front of Hrs. Wagstafi‘s, where
Mr,  lodged. , He‘ had often been/here before,
so that the contrast, between this ugly square brick
house, with its shabby bit of I grass~plot, stared at
an mund by cottage windows, and his own pretty
white houie, set in a paradise of orchard and gar-
den and pasture, was not new to him; but he felt
it withfresh force to-day, as he slowly fastened
his roan by the bridle to the wooden paling, and
knocked at the door. Mr. Tryan was at home, and
sent to request that Mr. Jerome would walk up Into
his study, as the fire was out in the paflor below.
‘ At the mention of a clergyman’s study, perhaps
your too active imagination conjures up a Perfect
snu cry, where the general air of comfort is res-
cu from a "secular character by strong eccleSIaS-
.tical suggestions in the shape of furniture, the pat.
tern oi the carpet, and the prints on the wall;

 

where, ifanap istaken,it isinanoasyvchairwith
aGothic bachand thevery feet rest uneven:
and velvety simulation of church windows; where
the pure art of rigorous English Protestantism
smiles above the mantel-piece in the portrait of an
eminent bishop, or a refined Anglican taste is indi-
cated by a German print from Overbeck; where
the walls are lined with choice divinity ’in sombre
binding, and the light is softened by a screen of
boughs, with a gray church in the'background.
But I must beg yOu to dismiss all such scenic
prettiness, suitable as it may be to a c'lergyman’s
character and complexion; for I have to confess
that Mr. Tryan’s study was a very ugly little room
indeed, with an ugly slap—dash pattern on the
walls, an ugly carpet on the floor, and an ugly view
of cottage roofs and cabbage—gardens from the
window. His own person, his writing-table, and his
bookcase, were the only objects in the room that
had the slightest air of refinement; and the sole
provision for comfort was a clumsy straight-backed
arm-chair, covered with faded chintz. The man
who could live in such a room, unconstrained by
poverty, must either have his vision fed from within
by an intense passion, or he must have chosen that
least attractive form of selfimortification which
wears no hair-cloth, and has no meagre days, but
accepts the vulgar, the commonplace, and the ugly,
whenever the highest duty seems to lie among
them. ' I '
“ Mr. Tryan, I hope you’ll eXcuse me disturbin"
on you,” said Mr. Jerome. “But I’d summat par-
ticular to say.” ‘ ‘ v
“ You don’t disturb me at all, Mr. Jerome ;‘ I’m
very glad to have a visit from you,” said Mr. Try-

an, shaking him heartily by the hand, and offering _
seriously disturbed by the idea.  curate was,
foverworking himself. There were tender women‘s.

“ It is some

him the Chintz-covered “easy” chair. I
of seeingl'yon,

time since I’ve had an opportunity
except on a Sunday.” "“ -' r
“ Ah, sir! your time’s so taken up, I’m .well
aware 0’ that; it’s not only what you hev to do,f
but it’s goin’ about from place to place; an’ you
don’t keep a hose, Mr. Tryan'. ' You don’t takocare’
enough of,,yourself—,—you don’t, indeed, an’ that’s
what I’ve come to talk to y’ about.” . : “‘
“i'l’hat’s very good of you," Mr. Jerome ;" but I”
assure you I think walking does me no harm. It

’is rather a relief to me, after speaking or writing.

You know I have no great circuit to make. The
farthest distance I have towalk is to Milby Church;
and if ever I want a horse on a Sunday, I hire Rad.
ley’s, who lives not many hundred yards from me.”

“ Well, but nowl the winter’s icomin’ on, an"
you’ll get weti’ yourfeet, andl’ratt tells me, as
your constitution’s dillicate, as anybody 'may see,
for the matter 0’ that, wi’ciit being a doctor. ’ln’
this is the light I look at it in,  rTryanflwlio’s
to fill up your place, if you was to be disabled, as
I may say? Consider what a valuable life yours
is. You’vebegun a great work i’ Milby,'and.so
you  t carry it on, if you’d your health and
Strengt . ~The more care you take 0’ yourself,
the longer you’ll live, belike, God willing, to do
good to your fellowwi'eaturs." ‘ v _ ’ ’ . .

“:Why, my dear Mr. Jerome, I think .1311qu
not be a long-lived man in any case; and if I
were to take care of myself unda' the pretext of
do' more good, I should very likely die and leave
mthngdoneafter all.” y " -"  . '1' 

“ Well i, but keeping a boss wouldn’ hinder
you from workin’. It‘ ud help you to do more,
though Pratt'says as it’s usin’ your voice, so con.
stant as does you the most harm. Now, isn’t iii—'-
I’m no scholard, Mr. ’Tryan, an’ I’m not agoin’ to
dictate to you-but isn’t it a’most a-killin’ 0’ your-
self, to go on a’ that way beyond your strength?
We mustn’t fling our lives away.” .

“ No, not fling them away lightly, but we are
permittcdto lay'd‘own our lives in a, right mum
There are many duties, as you know, Mr. Jerome,
which stand before taking care of our own lives.”

“ Ah! I can’t arguy wi’ you, Mr. Tryan; but
what I wanted to say ’3 this-there’s my little
chacenut boss; I should take it quite a kindness
if you’d hevhim through the winter an’ ride him.
I’ve thought 0’ selling him a mony times, for'Mrs.
Jerome can’t abide him; and. What do 1 want ‘wi
two nags? 'But I’m fond o’ the little chwenut,
an? I shouldn’t like to sell him. So if you’ll only.

ride him forms, you’ll do me a kindnesswyou‘

will, indeed, Mr. Tryan.” '
' “ Thank you, Mr. Jerome. . I promise yen to ask,

~

.flected that he had

intending to take "a; house, ‘01- ohm,-  holed
living. 4 ‘ Jan
might have beennfihppomui

granola-tune is‘caiedro‘m which mm
:has been known to recover,

 

m

forbimwhmlfeelthat 1 “atomic heroic
no manle moregladlybeioécbhd “that
gain; but atpreaentl would?“ notification"
horse. I should ride him very little, and it 
beaninconvenieuce to metokeep
Wise. - ‘ ‘

Mr. Jerome looked troubled and hesitating, as
if he had something on his. mind that ‘would not
readily shape itself into words. ; “At last he said,
“ You’ll excuse me, Mr.,Trya.n,,I wouldn’t betakin'
a liberty, but I know what at claims you hev on
you as a, clergyman. ' Is it t e' expense, Mr. Tryau?
is it the money?” r ,

“No, my dear sir. I have'much‘ more than '8"
single man needs; My way of living is quite at my
own choosing, and I am doing nothing but what I.
feel bound to do, quite apart from money consider.
ations. We cannot judge for ions another, you,
know; we have each our peculiar weaknesses and.
temptations. I quite admit that it might be right, ‘
for another man to allow himSelf'mOi‘c luxuries,
and I assure you I think it no superiofity in myself
to do without them. ' 0n the contrary, if my heart
were less rebellious, and if I" were :less liable to
temptation, I should not need that sort of self-i
denial. But,” added .Mr. Tryan, holding  his
hand to Mr. Jerome, “ I understand your-kindness;
and bless you for it- If I want a home, Ishall ask
for th hestnut.” . i ; . z ,  a:

‘ Mr. emme was obliged, to rest. contentedwith

this promise, and rode home sorrowfully, reproach»?

ing himself with not having said one'thingwhe

meant to say when setting 'but',_a-nd with 

“ clean forgot” the arguments he intended to quote,

from Mr. Stickney. » ;

Mr. Jerome’s was not the';only thatwas:

gems in which anxiety,  the swlof his af-
actions was ‘begmmn' 'gto 'me- 553311330
about the state "of his» heath.  Elisa Prg

’had at one  passed thmughsmlwh aloepless
'cogitaticn on theipbssjblllty of Mni'l‘ryanb being
'attachedvvto; someglady'at v distance—«t ’ ‘
perhaps, where he had formerly held

. , ;,. I ’_
. a curacy; 
her line eyes kept close watch lest any symptom of
engaged reflections on his part should'eecaposhfl.
It seemed an alarming fcct‘tha’t MAW:
were beautiftu marked with’ lair, until she 
an unmarried sister sis-ism
he spokewitlt muchcfiection as his father’s 
panion and committal-.1 Besides, 3‘s... Tm 
never paid any distant visit,  one 
days to his father, and no hint escapedhim of 

0;; hezcouhl not be

  

bytbmhldd 
pair of gray eyes that  on him with timb-
ate reverence. Before Christmas, however, her
oogitatious begun'to'takeanotherturn. % heard
her father say very confidentlythu “Tinnitus
consumptive, and if hedida’t «harmonica!
himself, his life would not be vol-ibis yan’epw
chant" and shame ct haviuggspeeulateti'on ‘
positions. that were Rheum-[Men 
poor Miss Eliza’s feelings with all 
impem’ into the one channel :of: 
at the prospect of los' ' this wheelies
opened to hex-{a new life  
tion. it a a sad weakness inns, Mammy»
draught of'a man’s death billions, us;
as. if lifewerei‘not sacred M it sit museum.
putatively: light tithing  love and rever—
ence to the brother w has to climb the whole
toilsome steep with us, and “ill; our and
tenderness were, due to the one who is spared
thathard‘joumey.’ - -, *- _ , .
The Miss Lhmetfis‘mi Vere beginning to'takc a
new view of the future, entirely uncolored byjeul-
cusyofMissEliaaPmttr ‘ ’- \ ;,  ‘
“Did 37011 mice.” said Mary, one.
when Mrs. 'Pettifer was taking tea with 
“did younotioe that short dry cough of 
Tryan’s yesterday? I think he looks worse 
verso every week; and I only wish I knew his
sister; I would write to her about: Tm
suresomething. should be done to males him give
pp part of his Work, and he will" listen to no one
ere.“ ‘ ‘ v 7
“Ah,” said Mrs. Pettifer, “it’s ‘a‘ thousand pities his.

 

 

 

 

ldi

JdNET‘S ‘ REPENTANGE.

 

i ,

fathoraiid sister! can’t scornei and dive iwith‘ whim, iii

Mrifi’tafimbal euBu‘t .I-yvish with all my heart,
’he could have infinite-come nice woman as would
I‘hhhe'zmaileiacomfortable home for him. 2 I used
to think'he  take to Eliza Pratt ; she’s a good
“girl, and very pretty; but I see no likelihood of it
now.” ‘ . ” ‘ ‘ “

“No, indeed,” said Rebecca, with some. empha-
sis; “Mr. Tryan’s heart is not for any woman to
win ;‘ .it is all given to his work; and I could
never wish to see him with a young, inexperienced
wife who would be a drag on him instead of a help-
mate.”

“He’d need have somebody, young or old," ob-
served Mrs. Llnnet, “to see as he wears a flannel
weseoat, an’ changes his stockin’s when he comes in.
It‘smy opinion he’s got that cough wi’ sittin’ i’
wet shoes and stockin’s; and, that Mrs. Wagstafi’s
a poor addle-heuded thing; she doesn’t half tak
care’cn him." ' ' H

“7011, mother,” said Rebecca, “she’s avery pious
Women. And I’m sure she thinks it too great a pri-
vilege, to have Mr. Tryan with her, not to do the
best she can to make him comfortable. She can’t
help her rooms being shabby.”

v “I’ve nothing to say a 'n’ her piety, my dear;
but I knowvery. well I s ouldn’t like her to cook
my victual. When a man comesinhungry an’ tired,

iety won’t feed him, I reckon. Hard carrots ’ull
lie heavy on his stomach, piety or no piety. I called
in one/day when she was dishin’ up Mr. Tryan’s
dinner, an’ I could see the potatoes was as watery
as watery. It’s right enough to be speritial——I’m
noenemy to that; but I like my potatoes mealy.
I don’t see as anybody ’ull go to heaven the sooner
for not digestin’ their dinner—providin’ they don’t
diesooner,-as mayhap Mr. Tryan will, poor dear
man!” 7 -

'“ It will be a heavy day for us all when that
comes to'pass,” said His. Pettifer. “We shall never
get anybody to fillup that gap. There’s the new

i an that’s just come to Shepperton—Mr.
Paar}; I savflhlm the other dayat Mrs. Bond’s.
Es may been very man, and a fine! preacher ;
they scythe is‘;'bu I thou t to myself, What a
(limitation between him Mr. Tryout He’s, a.
a " ' ‘ ,1  hasn’t that feeling
*5?" .   rWhatisso won-
derful‘toii‘m idle. Tryan is the way he puts 

  

salt “criminal hitherto-and talks tonne like a;.

 rm never afraid or telling'hlm 
Hanover  to look down"6nranybody.'v ' e
"wafhow to lift up those that are cast down, if,
’ove’r'mandid.” r3 ~  - -’ .-
3‘1“‘Yos,”‘laid Kory. “And when I see all the
 ,to him in 'Paddiford Church, I
oiténithln’k how hard it wouldbe for any clergy-.
 ban-@139 after him ; ‘hcihas madcthe

,_ ’ bahtfit‘jdccml visits ‘tov-her near neighbor Mrs.
.. Fofifigptoooldatriend to be shunned because she
 Janet was ‘obliged sometimes: to
has: ’ VI ,1 ' to=lr.iTryan,'and evento‘listen to
Wrmfmyhmlmuy met. with: playful in.

fifiifih‘, welhl’she  one day, 4“ I..like dear
his? his: orange and his pipes a great deal better than
adults ’Tyranwnd. his Gospel; = When .I ' was a

‘ ' tig.toddlo,"fllr.~fandi Hrs. Oreweiused to » letxme
play  initheir garden andhave a swing between
tliegrcetshndtreos, because motherhadnogarden. I
like pebple who are kind ; kindness is "my religion;

 bind that‘s the reason I like you, dear Mrs. Pettifer,

, Mghyou'are a Try’anite." * s t
« -€»‘«“f‘*'But thy t’s fir; Tryan’s religion too—at least

partly, A There’s nobody can give himself up more

-to‘dbingi-gocd'among the poor; and he thinks of

their so too as well as their souls.” '

. “ Oh, yes, yes; but then he talks about faith, and
 and’jall that, making people believe they are
better-than others, and. that God loves them (more
,than he does the vector the world. I know he has
put a great deal oi that into Sally Martin’s head,
audit has done herno good at all. Shewas as nice,
honest, patient a girl as need be before; and now
fiche fanciesishe has new‘light and new wisdom. I

.*don’t iike those notions.” '

“ You mistake him, indeed you do, my dear Mrs.

,  ; I wish you’d go and hear him preach.”

i f“: Hennhim ,proechzl . ' Why. you. wicked 
you, would persuade me to disobey 'myghusband,
'would . you ?. 0h, shocking! , I (shall run away
from you. Good-bye.” ‘ . '

, A: few days after this conversation, however,
Janet went to Sally Martin’s about three o’clock in
the afternoon. The pudding that had been sent in
for herself and “ mammy” struck her as just the
sort of. delicate morsel the poor consumptive girl
would be likely to fancy, and in her usual impul-
sive way she had started up from the dinner-table
at once, put on her bonnet, and set oil with a
covered plateful to the neigthring street. When
she entered the house there was no one to be seen;
but in the little side room where Sally lay, Janet
heard a voice. " It was one she had not heard
before, but. she immediately guessed it to be
Mr. Tryan’s. rHer first impulse was to set down
her plate and go away, but Mrs. Martin
might not be in, and then there would be no
one to give Sally that delicious bit of pudding.
So she stood still, and was obliged to hear what Mr.
Tryan was saying. He was interrupted by one of
the invalid’s violent fits of coughing.

“It is very hard to bear, is it not?” he said,
when she was still again. “Yet God seems to sup-
port you under it wonderfully. Pray for me, Sal-
ly, that I may have strength too when the hour of
great suffering comes. It is one of my worst weak-
nesses to shrink from bodily pain, and I think the
time is perhaps not far off when I shall have to
bear what you are bearing. But now I have tired
you.  We have talked enough. Good-bye."

Janet was surprised, and forgot her wish not to
encounter Mr. Tryan; the tone and the words were
so unlike what she had expected to hear. There
was none of the self-satisfied unction of the teach-
er, quoting, or exhorting, or ,expounding, for the
benefit of the bearer, but a simple appeal for help,
a confession of weakness. Mr. Tryan had his deep.
ly felt troubles, then? Mr. Tryan, too, like her-
8 knew what it was to tremble at a foreseen
trl --to shudder at an impending burden, heavier
than he felt able to hear?

The most brilliant deed of virtue could not have
inclined Janet’s, gecd will towards Mr. Tryan so
much as this fellowship-in; sufiering, and the Sth
e _' ‘ thought was in her eyes. when he appeared in
who cor-Way, pale’weary, and depressed. : heiight
iof Janet standing there. with the entire absence of
Esclftconscioneness which belongs to anew and viv-
ii’d expression made him start and pause a little.
Their eyes met, and they looked at each other

, gravely for a few mements. Then they bowed, and

,Mr. Tryan passed out. i I

There isa power in the direct glance of a sincere
and loving human‘soul which will: do more to dis-
sipate'p'rejudice and kindle, charity than the'most
elaborate arguments. The .fullest exposition of

x ‘ ' Mr. Tryan’s' doctrine might not have sufficed to
, convince Janet that behad not an odious self-com-
v placency iii-believing himself a. peculiar child, of

God; butone direct, pathetic look of his had dis-
sociated him with that conception forever. « , .
' 'This happened late‘in the autumn,. not long be-
fore SallyMartin died. I Janet mentioned her new
impression to no one, for she :was afraid of arriv-
ing ata_stillvm0recompletc contradiction of her
former ideas. We have all oil ans considerable re-
gard! £0r‘ohtpast self; endure not fond of casting
reflections on ‘thatn‘cspected individual by a total
negation of his opinions. Janet could oblonger
think'of Mr. Tryan without sympathy, but she still
shrunk from the ideaof: becoming his heater and
admirer. That was a: reversal of the past which
was as little accordant with her inclination as her
circumstances. , . - ' ‘ r r. , a , . ;
And indeed this interview with Mr. Tryan was
soon thrust into the background of poor Janet’s
infemory by the daily thickening miseries of her
1 c. v '

‘ CHAPTER} 1x111.

Tm: loss of Mr. Jerome as _a client proved only
the beginningof . annoyances to Dempster. That
old gentleman had in him the vigorous remnant of
an energy and perseverance whichhad created his
own fortune; and being as I, have hinted, given to
chewing the cud of a righteous indignation with
considerable relish, he was determined to carry on

 

his retributive war-against the persecuting attor-"

the nei  of' ,'

count with Dempster, Mr. creme'stired up this
gentleman to an investigation ,of sums Suspicious
points in the attorney’s conduct, of the parish
aflairs. The natural consequence was a perSonal
quarrel between Dempster and Mr. Prym’e; the
client demanded his account, and then followed
the old story of an exorbitant, lawyer’s bill, with
the unpleasant anticlimax of taxing. .
These disagreeables, extending over many months,
ran along side by side with the pressin business
of Mr. Armstrong’s lawsuit, which was t reatening
to take a turn rather depreciatory of Dempstcr’s
professional provision; and it is not surprising
that, being thus kept in a constant state of irri-
tated excitement about his own affairs, he had lit-
tle time for the further exhibition. of his public
spirit, or for rallying the forlorn hope of sound
Churchmanship against cant and hypocrisy. Not
a few persons who had, a grudge against him began
to remark, with satisfaction, that “‘Dempster’s luck
was forsaking him ;" particularly Mrs; Linnet, who
thought shesaw distinctly the gradual ripening of
a providential scheme, whereby a just retribution
would be wrought on the man who had deprived
her of‘Pye’s Croft. 0n the other hand, Dempster’s
well-satisfied clients, who were of opinion that the
punishment of his wickedness might conveniently
be deferred to another world, noticed with some
concern that he was drinking more than ever, and
that both his temper and his driving were becom-
ing more furious. Unhappily those additional
glasses of brandy, that exasperation of loud-tongued
abuse, had other effects than any that entered into
the contemplation of anxious clients; they were
the little superadded symbols that were perpetually
raising the sum of home misery. .

Poor Janet! how heavily the months rolled on
for her, laden withfresh sorrows as the summer
passed into autumn, the autumn into'winteifimnd
the winter into sprin again! Every feverish
morning with its blan ' listlessness and despair,
seemed more hateful than the last; every ‘céms
ing night more impossible to brd‘vT’e without arm'.
lug herself ,in leaded stupor. The morning light
:‘brought no gladness to: her: it seemed only to
throw its glare on ,what had happened in the'dlm
'candle-light—-on the. cruel  seated immovable
in drunken obstinacy by the dead the and dying“
lights in the dining-room, rating her inimsh‘ tones;
reiterating old mpmhthaon' a hideouf 
of somethi unremembered'something‘thatniust
have made , at dark bruise onher shoulder, which
ached asshe dressed herself. ‘ '  '  

to; this passe—what offence Janet ii .ponimiued
in the early years ,of  to) rouse" the bridal
hatred of this man? The  lof- thing‘s'are
very small; the hours .thatgilie between intranets
the gloom of midai ht are traveled ti},  h‘by
tiniest markings 50f lgs clocki’and;   f 5
back- along the fifteen yearsflcf; her married life
hardly, knew how ,oryhprethis total  ;
hardl knew when thexswieet wedded love he
.thet had set forever hadceased‘tomake al'twilig'hl
of memory and relenting, before .the err-coming of
the utter dark. '     :
Old Mrs. Demfster thought she striations be-
ginning of it a!  Janet's. want of ' hdfiiekwtin
skill and exactness, ,“ Janet," she said tcyhers’el ;
‘i was always running about doing things fertilizer
people, and neglectingrher own house. » That; pro-
vokes a. man;.what use is it for a-womaurtO/be
loving, and makings. fusswith her husbfififilf @118
docsnlt take ‘care and keep home ,iiistas he
likes it; if she isn‘t at'handw ’n hcwauts‘ an '.
thing done; if she deesn’tatted ito’tallhis wishes,
let them be as small as theymay? That was
what I. did when I was a wife.’though I didn’t
make half so much fuss about loving my husband.
Then, Janet bird no. Children" All! there
Mammy‘Diempstreli‘  touched a true spring, not
perhapsgf her souls cruelty, but of half Janet’s
misery. ’ If she had babes to rock, to sleep—~little
ones to kneel in their night-dress and say their
prayers at her knees—sweet boys and 'rls to put
their young arms round her neck an“ idea away
her tears, her. poor hungry heart would have been
fed [with strong love, and might never'have needed

   

 

 

they. .. Having some influence with, Mnl’ryme, who
was oneof the most .subfitantialjete—pa ers‘ inf
Dmgley, '. ' .‘and‘fw’b had‘
himse a complex and bin  private ac—’_

Do you wonder how it was that t ' gshadtcome.

I

 

 

 

phA'ETfS aEPENTANeE.

24‘?

 

that fiery poison to still its cravings, .Mighty is
“the force ofw mathematile says the'grcat tragic
poet to us _across,_',theag‘es,. ,Bding, as usual, the
simplest words forgthejsublimest fact. It transa-
forms all things byits vital heat; it turns timidity
into fierce courage,_and dreadless defiance into trem-
ulous submissiOn; it‘turns thoughtlessness intofore.
sight, and yet Stills all anxiety into calm content; it
makes selfishness become self4denial, and gives even
to hard vanity the glance of admiring love. ,Yes, if
Janet had been a mother, she might have been
saved from much sin, and therefore from much of
her sorrow. , -

But do not believe that it was anything either
present or wanting in poor Janet that formed the
motive of her husband’s cruelty. Cruelty, like
every other vice, requires no motive outside itself
«it only requires opportunity. ‘ YOu do not sup-
pose Dempster had any motive for drinking be-
yond the craving for drink; the presence of
brandy was the only necessary condition. And
an unloving, tyrannous, brutal man needs no mo.
tive to prompt his cruelty; he needs only the per-
petual presence of a woman he can call his own.
A whole park full of tame or timid-eyed animals
to torment at his will would not serve him so well
to glut his lust of torture; they could not feel as
one woman does; they could not throw out the

* keen retort which whats the ed e of hatred.

Janet’s bitterness would ove ow in ready words;
:she was not to be made meek by cruelty; she
would repent of nothing'in the face of injustice,
thou h she was subdued in a moment by a word
or a k that recalled the old days of fondness;
and in times of comparative calm would often re-
cover her sweet woman’s habit of caressing, play-
ful affection. But such days were become rare,
and poor Janet’s soul was kept like a vexed sea,
tossed bya new storm before the old waves have
fallen. Proud, angry resistance and sullen en-
durance were now almost the only alternations she
knew. She would bear it all proudly to the world,
but, proudly towards him, too; herwoman’s weak-
ness might shriek a cry for pityfunder a heavy
blow, but voluntarily She would do nothing to
mollify him, unless he first relented. What had
she ever done to him'but love him too well-but
believe inhim too foolishly? He had no pit on
her tender flesh ;"he could strike the soft nee he
had once asked to kiss. Yet she would not admit
her Wrctchedness; she .had married him blindly,

she would bear it out to the terrible end, what-
ever that might be. Better this misery than the
blank that: lay foobar outside her married home.
,QBut'therekwas’one. ’ rson who heard all the
"hints and. all the gout ursts of bitterness and
ses’psii‘r which Janet 'was', never,  to pour,
into any other ear :4 andLalusl in her worst mo:

mentsgdanet « would throw out, wild, reproaches '

dgainstthat potiontlistener. For. the wrong that

Foils Inflammation; finds ogyamedmmm,  ~ ‘ 

«is; some thwart us like avibrstioafand we
inflictrhstyslaw Mews» _, ~ , . f , .
amortiflm #00: clearly 11.1 through the
wintesthat thingsnere getting worse in Orchard
Stseéi;  ‘evidence semen of it inJanet’a
“ isits to her _; and though ,her own visits toher
daughter were 'soffim. that she saw littleof
Déinpster ‘ rsonally, she noticed many indications
not onlyt at he was’drinking to greater excess,
but ,lhat. he was beginning {to , lose that physical
power. of..‘,supporting excess which had long been
the, admiration of. such fine spirits {as Mr, Tomlin.
son. It _ seemed/as, if Dempster had, some con-
sciousness offline-reams new distrust of himself;
for, before Winter wasover, it was observed that
he had, renounced  hgbitot driving out, alone,
and was never Seen In  gig without a servant by
hisside. - ‘ \ >  _ ..

Nemesis is lame, but sheds of colossal stature,
like the gods; and sometimes, while her sword is
not yet unsheathed, she stretches panther huge
left arm and grasps heavictim. _ The mighty
hand is invisible, but {the “Ohm totters under the
dire clutch.  , ,

The various symptoms that thi s were gt-
tln'g worse with the Dempsters a orded Mi by

sip something new to. say on, an old subgect.
‘ rs. Dempster,‘ everyone remarked, looked more
miserable'than ever, though, she kept up the old
pretense of being happy and satisfied. She was
scarcely ever seen, as she used to be, going about

servant—heard with trembling t

on her , good-natured errands; and even, old Mrs.
CreWe, who had ' always been wilfullyblind to
anything wrong in her favorite Janet, was obliged
to admit that she had not seemed like herself
lately. “The poor thing’s out- of health," said the
kind little old lady, in ans'werto all gossip about
Janet; “_ her headaches always were bad, and I
know, What, headaches are:, why, they make one
quite delirious sometimes.” Mrs. Phipps, for her
part, declared she would never accept an in-
vitation to Dempster’s again; it was getting so
very disagreeable to go there; Mrs. Dempster was
often “ so strange.” To be sure; there were dread-
ful stories about the way Dcmpster used his wife;
but in Mrs. Phipps’ opinion, it was six of one and
half a dozen of the other. Mrs. Dempster had
never been like other women; she had always a
flighty way with her, carrying parcels of snuff to
old Mrs. Tooke, and going to drink tea with Mrs.
Brinley, the carpenter’s wife; and then never tak-
ing care of her clothes, always wearing the sen/1e
things week-day or Sunday. A man has a poor
lookout with a wife of that sort. Mr. Phipps, am-
iable and laconic, wondered how it was women
were so fond of running each other down.

Mr. Pratt having been called in provisionally
to a patient of Mr Pilgrim’s in a case of com-
pound fracture, observed in a friendly colloquy
with his brother surgeon the next day:

‘.‘So Dempster has . left 01f drivin , himself, I
see; he won’t end with a broken nee , after all.
You’ll have a case of meningitis and delirium tre-
mens instead”.

“Ah,” said Mr. Pilgrim, “he can hardly stand it
much lon er at the rate he is going on, one would
think. Ife’s been confoundedly cut up about that
busines of Armstrong’s, I fancy. It may do him
some harm, perhaps, but Dempster must have
feathered his nest pretty well; he can afiord to
loose a little business.”

"fills business will outlast him, that’s pretty
clear,” said_,Pratt; “he’ll run down like a watch
with a broken spring one of these days."

Another prognostic of evil to Dempster came at,
the begining of March, For then little “ mamsey"
died—died suddenly. The housemaid found her
seated motionless in her'arm-chair, her knitting
fallen d0wu, and the tortoise-shell cat reposiug on
it unreproved. The little white old woman had
ended her wintry age of patient sorrow, believing
to the last that “ Robert might have been a good
husband as he had been a good son.” ,

When the earth was thrown on- mamsey’s coflin,
and the son, in crape 'Scarf and hat band, turned

away homeward, his good angel, lingering with

outstretched wing on thetredge of the grave, cast
one despairing  after him, (and took flight for-
ever: . , > , , . : ,, .

 

x CHAPTER » XIVQ

m use Week in Marché—threc weeks after _ on
Mrs. Dempster died—occurred the unpleasant
winding-up-of affairs between Dempster and Mr.

Bryan, and under this additional source of irrita-
tionthe attorney’s diurnal drunkenness had taken

on its most ill-tempered and brutal phase. On the

,Frida’ mornin , beforeset ,‘ " out, for 'Rotherby,
he, to, (1 his w' e that. he had invited “ four men”

toldinner athalf-past six that evening. The .pre-
vious night had been a terrible one for Janet, and
when her husband broke his grim morning silence
to say these few words, she was looking, so blank
andlistless that he added, in aloud, sharp key,
“ Do’ you hear what I say? or must I tell the Cook 1’”
She started, and said, f‘ Yes, I hear.” _ '

“ Then mind and have a dinner provided, and
don’t go mooning about like crazy J one 1”

Half an hour. afterward Mrs. Raynor, quietly
busy in her kitchen with her household labors-—
for she had only a little twelve- ear~old girl as a

he'rattling of the

arden gate and the opening of the outer door. She
Enew the step, and in one short moment she lived
beforehand through the coming scene. She hurried

out of the kitchen, and there in the passage, as Shit;

had felt, stood Janet, her eyes worn as

by night-long watchin , her dress careleSS, her
step 'ngu'id. ‘ No c eerful morning I
to hermotherwuo kiss.- She turned into t. 6 par-
lor, and, seatin hat-self on the sofa oppOsite he?

 

mother’s chair, coked, vacantly at the walls and

eeting.

 

furniture until thecorners of her, mouth, beganfio
tremble, and her darkeyes filled witlnteayathatfell
nnWiped down her cheeks. The mothers” 
oppositeto her, afraid to speak. -, She feltsgsure
there was nothingnew the matteresure'that ‘lhe
torrent of words would come sooner or later.

“ Mother! why don’t you speak to me ?” Janet
burst out at last. “You don‘t care about my sun
fering; you are blaming me because I’feel-e—be‘
cause I am miserable.” .

“ My child, I am not blaming you—my heart is
bleeding for you. Your head is bad this morning
-—-you have had a bad night; Let me make you a
cup of tea now. Perhaps you didn’t like your
breakfast.” t

“ Yes, that is what you always think, mother.
It is the old story, you think. You don’t ask. me
what it is I have had to bear. You are tired of
hearing me. You are cruel, like the rest; every-
one is cruel in this world. Nothing but blame—-
b1ame-—-blame; never any pity. God is cruel to
have sent me into the-world to bear all this mic-
ery. ’

“ Janet, Janet, don’t say so ! It is not for us to
judge; we must submit; we must be thankful for
the ift of life.” _

“ hankful for lifel Why should I be thank.
ful? God has made me with a heart to feeLjand
he has sent me nothing but misery. How could I
help it ? How could I- know what would come ?
Why didn’t you tell me, mother ?-——why did you let
me marry? You knew what brutes men could be;
and there‘s no help for me—,—,-no hope. I can‘t kill
myself; I’ve tried; but I can’t leave this world and
go toanother. There may be no pity for 
as there is none here.” _ , .

‘_‘_Janet, my child, there is pity. Hare I ever
done anything but love you '? And there, is pity in
God. Hasn’t he put pity into your heart for many
a poor sufferer? Where did it come, hermit not
from him?" ~ ' v a ,  ._

: Janet’s nervous irritatibn now broke. out into
sobs instead of complainings; and her mothorwas
thankful, for after that crisis there would very
:likely come, relenting and tenderness, and compara-
tive calm.~ She went out to make some. tearaad
when she returned» with the tray in her .hamis,
Janet had dried her tears, and now turned them
towards her‘mother with a faint attempt a": smile;
but the poor face, in its sad blurred beauty, looked
all the more piteous. , ' '   ,,
,. “ Mother will insist upon her tea)! 
I“ and I really think I can drink 'a‘eup; gals:
,go home directly, for there .are people r Wth'
dinner. Could you go with me ,helpf:,.ine, _
imother ?” ' y ‘ ~ ‘     - ‘
 Mrs. Raynor wasalways readyto 

. ,wcntto Orchard Street with Janet,‘andg,

with herthro ‘hthe day~vcomforted,§asorhning” ,‘ Tap;
proached, toggle . her" ,become more  and
will' “matters: to her toilet. Laban-pest, are

'evoryt ing was: in, order ; Janet madame)". and

when the mother‘had kissed her and aids f" «b ‘,
she. could not help pausing a, momentin. some: ' 
WW I'. _,,'ou’,at the jail, rich figure,   
‘ debtor : the,plainness of ,thgefldsep?  I  ‘
recs, a‘ndthelnoble face with its " 
black hair, made matronly'by a simple L1" 1 V 
Janet had that enduring beauty whichm   l°
puiefmhjes‘tic outline “ and“ ,depth; of  . 
and n ‘lect leave, their true _’ on such  idle hit
like assess: 'Grésk,tsinrl6.

'31

   

 

it thril us the last, ,  . ,
which, for all the loss it. has’suifered fruit; was and
barbarous hands, has ained a ‘sclemn him to and
fills our imagination t e'inore becauseait is 1 acorn-
pletotothesense." ’ , ' ,-‘

It was six 0’ ‘ 10, it before Damnater returned from
Rotherby. He had evidently drunk a great deal,
and was in anxangry humor; but Janet, who had
gathered some little courage and forbearance, from
the consciousness that she had done her best to.
day, was determined, to speak pleasantly to him;
j H Rebel-a? she said, gently, as she saw him seat
himself in the dining~room in his »,dust'y, 'smfiy
clothes, and take some documents out of his
pocket, “ will you not wash and change your dress ‘2
It will refresh you.” .

“ Leave me alone, will you ‘9” said Dempster, in
his most brutal tone. ,, ‘1 r I _ I - ,

“ Dochange your coat and waistcoat, they are so
dusty. I’ve laid all your things out ready.”

 

“ Oh, you have, have yOu it” i After a a few ,

 

 

J into the

 

18

JANET’S REPENTANOE.

 

 

ates he rose v deliberately, and walked up.
stairs into his Janet had often been
scolded before for not laying out his cloths, and
she thought now, not without some wonder, that
this attention of hers had brought him to compli-

ance.

Presently he called out “ Janet!” and she went
up stairs. ‘

“Here! Take that i” he said, as soon as she
reached the door, flinging at her the coat she had
laid out. “Another time leave me to do as I please,
will you ?”

The coat, flung with great force, only brushed
her shoulder, and fell some distance within the
draWing-room, the door of which stood open just
opposite. 'She hastily retreated as she saw the
waistcoat coming, and one by one' the clothes
she had laid out were all flung into the drawing-
room. ,

Janet’s face'flushed with anger, and for the first

_ time in her life her resentment overcame the long.

cherished pride that made her hide her griefs from
the world. There are moments when, by some
strange im;)ulse, we contradict our past selves—fa-
tal moments when a fitlpf passion, like a lava
stream, lays low the work, of half our lives. Janet
thought, “ I will not pick up the clothes; they
shall lie there until the visitors come, and he shall
be ashamed of himself.” ‘ ' ’

There was a knock at the door, and she made
haste to seat herself in the drawingroom, lest the
servant should enter and rename the clothes,which
were lying-half on the table and half on the ground.
2dr. Iowme‘enter’ed, with a less familiar visitor, a
client of Dempster’s, and the next moment "Demp-
ster himself came in.  , ' 1

His eye fell at once on the clothes, and then
turned for an instant with a devilish lance of
concentrated hatred on Janet, who, stil flushed
and excited, Inflected unconsciousness. After shak-
inghands with, his visitors, he immediately rung
the hell.~ ' ' . ‘

“ Take those clothes away i” he Said to the ser-
vant, looking at Janetagain.‘ ‘ ‘
‘ During dinner she kept up her‘assumed air of
indifl'erence,“snd tried to seem in high spirits, laugh-
' and talking more than usual. ‘ In reali ','she(
1 half she had. defied awild beast withn the
four-"walls of his ' and he. was crouehln back!
wardinpreparatiou orhisdea‘dlys . 
dissatisfied to take no notice of, st, talked o
7  ly, and drank steadily.'_ , V ._ _
7 A '  the dparty dispersed, with the ex-
 of  Bud , who had joined them after
em, and appeared disposed to stay drinking a

little longer, , .1 Janet began to hope that he Would .
' darkness—and in the midst of them a, tender

its ” ,tor Dempster to; become hea
 fall ‘asleep downstairs, WhlZlyl

V was a rare but occasional ending of his pights. She

 the  to sit ’up no longer, and she her.
 and went to bed, tryinle cheat her
 into the belief that the try wasended
, But when she lay claim she became more
 even: : Everything slashed
/ seemed , to stimnlate her

 
 

  ' ions tomvividnessl’ Her

  1y, and éheevery Sound in

‘ .Lt  when it was tv’velvs, she heard Mr. Budd
 she heard the door slam. j Dempsterjhad
not  Was he asleep? Would he forget it
The minutes seemed long, while, with a quiche fl
pulse, she was on the stretch to catch every soun .
' “him i”, The loud, jarring voice seemed to

' strikeer like a hurled weapon.

“Janet? he called a ain, moving but of the
dining-mom to the foot 0 the stairs.
 was a. pause-of a minute.
‘ “ If you don’t come, I’ll kill you i”
Another: mac, and she heard him turn back
dlnfiig-room. He was gone for a li ht.-
perhaps for a weapon. Perhaps he would kil her.
Let him. Life: was as hideous as death. For

» year‘s she had been rushingvon to some unknown
- but certain horror; and now she was close upon it.

She was almost glad. She was in a state of flushed,
feverish defiance that neutralized her woman's ter-
rors. - ' . x .

She heard his heavy step on the stairs; she saw

’ the slowly advancing light. Then she saw'the tall,

massive figure, and the heavy face, new fierce with
driinkemrnge. He had nothing but the candle in

r

it“

' into the dismal night.

 

his hand. He set it down on the table and lid-
vsnced-elose to the bed. '

“80 you think you'll defy me, do you ? We’ll
seehow is that will last. Get up, madam! out
of bed this instant l” .

In the close presence of the dreadful man—of
this huge crushing force, armed with savage will
—-poor Janet’s desperate defiance all forsook her,
and her terrors came back. Trembling, she got
up, and stood helpless in her night-dress before
her husband.

He seized her with his heavy grasp by the
shoulder, and pushed her before him. ‘ ,

“I’ll cool your hot spirit for you! I’ll teach
you to brave me 1"

Slowly he pushed her along before him, down
stairs, and through the passage, where a small oil~
lamp was still flickering. What was he going to
do to her? She thought every moment he was go-
ing to dash her before him on the ground. But
she gave no scream—she only trembled. ‘

He pushed her on tothe entrance, and held her
firmly in his grasp while he lifted the latch of the
door. Then he opened the door a little way, thrust
her out, and slammed it behind her. ‘

For a short space it seemed like a deliverance to
Janet. The harsh northaeast ‘ wind that blow
through her thin night-dress, and sent her ,long,
heavy, black hair streaming, seemed like the breath
of pity after the grasp of that threatening 'm'on-
ster. ‘ But soon the sense of release from an over-

powering terror’gare way before the sense of the

fate that had really come upon her. . , t
This,“ then, was what she had been traveling to-
wards through her long years of misery l Not
yet death. Oh, if she had' been brave enough
for it, death would have been better. The ser-
vants slept at the back of the house; it was’im-

possible to make them hear, so that they mi ht let

her in again quietly without her husband’s now-
ledge. And she would not have tried. ' He had
thrust her out, and it should be forever.

There would have been dead silence in Orchard

‘Street but for the whistling of the wind and the

swirling ofthe March dust on the pavement.
Thick clouds covered the sky; "every deer was
closed " ; every

fallen the tallgwhite'figure' that stood in lonely v . ., . ..
.she sat staring fixedly into the ‘ arkness, while in-

misery on the door-  ; no eye-rested onJanet

as she Sunk down on the cold stone, and looked

Sustained to belooklng

into h/erown blank  ,  . '
,' animus x'v.g7 1. .

Tun stony street, the bitter north-east ,wind and

woman trust out from her husband’s home in her
thin night-dress, the harsh wind cutting her naked
feet, and driving her long hair away from her half-
clnd bosom, where the poor heart is crushed with
an'ulsh and despair. * " I - .
i The ‘growping'man, u '  b :lfiemsu route
37,; es nan‘instaut rou ‘ 1‘ 1: s appy
wanhappy past; when the dug has fallen
like a curtain, memory, in a singlewmoment,
sees the,drama acted over again. And even in
those earlier crisis, which are but types of, death
wwhen we are outed abruptly from  life-we
have 'known, when we can no longer, aspect to;
morrowytdresemble esterday, and find" ourselves
by some sudden shoe 'on‘the confines of the un-
knowne—there is often the same sort of lightning.
flash through the dark and unfrequented chanibers
of memory. ‘ f i , ‘ .
When Janet sat down shivering on the door.
stone, with the door shut upon her past life, and the
future black and unshapen before her as the night,
the scenes of her childhood,'her youth, and her
painful womanhood, rushed back upon her con-
sciousness, and made one picture with her pro.
sent desolation. The potted child, takin her new-
est toy to bed with her—«the young gir , proud in
strength and beauty, dreaming'that life was an
easy thing, and that it was pitiful weakness to be
unhappy—the bride, passing with trembling joy
from the outer court to the inner sanctuary of
woman’s life—the wife, beginning her initiation
into sorrow, wounded, resenting. yet still hoping
and forgiving—the poor bruised woman seeking
through weary years the one refuge of despair,
oblifionuJanet seemed to herself all these in the

\ window was dark, No ray of light .

.wardly‘ she gaze

~ one, startled her,

 

some lament that she was  or being
seatedth coldstoneunderthe‘shockof anew
misery. All her early glsdnesaall her bright
hopes and illusions, all her gifts ed beauty and
affection, served only to darken the riddloof her life;
they were the betraymg promises of a cruel destiny
which had brou ht out those sweet blossoms on!

that the winds an storms might have a greater wor

of desolation—which had nursed her, like a, pet
fawn, into tenderness and fond expectation, only
that she might feel a keener terror in the clutch.
of the panther. Her mother had sometimes said that
troubles were sent to make us better and draw us
nearer to God. What mockery that seemed to
Janet. Her tr0ubles had been sinking her lower
from year to year, pressing upon her like heavy,
fever-laden vapors, and perveiting the very pleni—r
tude of her nature into a. deeper source of disease-
Her wretchedness had been a perpetually tighten-
ing instrument of torture, which had gradually
absorbed all the other sensibilities of her nature

'into the sense of pain and the maddened craving

for relief. Oh, if some ray of hope, of pity, of
consolation, would pierce through the horrible
gloom, she‘might believe then in a Divine love—411

a heavenly Father who cared for his children 2,
.But now she had no faith, no trust. There was

nothing she could lean on in the wide world, for
her mother was only a fellow¢Sufierer in her own
lot. ' The poor, patient woman could do little more
than mourn With her‘daughter; she had humble
resignation enough to sustain her oWn soul, but
she could no more give comfbrt and fertitude to

Janet than the withered, ivy-covered trunk can bear-
Eupits strong, full-boughed offspring crashing down

under an Alpine storm. Janet felt chewas alone ;
no human soul had measured her anguish, had
understood her self-despair, had entered in-

to ‘her sorrows and her sins with that deep-

sighted sympathy which is wiser than‘all blame,
more potent than! allireproofe—such sympathy as

' had strolled her own heart, for many a sufferer-

And if there was any Divine pity, she could not
feelit; it kept aloof 'from her, it‘pour'ed no balm
into her wounds, it stretched out no hand tobear
up herweak resolve,‘to‘ fortify her fainting cour-

e. , '. . . . x 
New, in her attuost lonlieness 'shsf‘shod no tear;

, ‘d’a‘t her own past, nmm losl
thesense 'that'it was her own, or that new?

anythin 'more than. aispectator ate strange and],

dreadf play. , .

The loud sound of the church“ clock, striking
Shelled net’been" more
than half an hour, then? And it  to her
as if she had been there half the t. She
was gettingbenumbed with cold; With atstrong

instinctive dread of pain and death which hadmde

her recoil from suicide, she started up, and thedisé
agreeable sensation of resting on her  feet

helped to recall her oompletel to‘the‘ 
.the present. The wind was " "

. . f . “Pinks
rents in the clouds, and there  every new

:and "thena dim light of stars, that frightened

her moreth'an‘the summon waslike acruel
linger pointing, her out in he wretchedness
an , humi

Iiation; it  her shudder at the '
thought of the morning tonight.“ What could

she do? Not go to her motheré—not rouse her

' in the dead, of night to tell her this. Her mother

would" think she Wag a Spears; it would be
enough to killher With horror. And the way
there was solong . . . . if she should meet some
one. . . . yet she must seek some shelter, some
where to hide herself. Five doors off there was
Mrs. Pettifer's; that kind woman would take‘hcr
in. 'It‘wa's of no use now-to be proud and mind
about the World’s knowing; she had nothing, to
wish for, nothing to care about; only she could
not help shuddering'at the thought of braving the
morning light, there in the street—4119‘ was fright
ened at the thought of spending long hours in the
cold. Life ’might mean. anguish, might mean de.‘
spair; buta—oh, she must c utch it, tlgu h‘with
bleeding fin ; her feet must cling t e firm
earth that t e sunlight would revisit, not slip into

the untried abyss, where she might long even for -

familiar pains. _ _ I k L

Janet, trod slowly with her naked feet on. the
rough pavement, tremblingat the fitful hams Of
starlight, and supporting her by the wa ) as the

 

w yiwaw.4....a..r.s....__.,._. . ,

 

1.4mm Berna/myth

19

 

 

gusts of wiuddrove right against her. The very
windiest: cruelt- ittried to push her back from the
door-where sheme to, go and. knock-snout
for it . ‘ ‘ ~ f ' '

Pcttifer’s We did not look into Orchard
Street;‘it steed. than way up a wide passage
which Opened into the street through an archway.
J anet turned upthe archway, and saw a faint light
coming from Mrs. Pettifer’s bedroom window. The
glimmer of a rush-light, from a room where a friend
was lying, was like a ray of mercyto J anet,after
that long, long time of darkness and loneliness; it
would‘not be so dreadful to awake Mrs. Pettifer as
she had thought. Yet she lin ered some minutes
atthe door before she gathers courage to knock;
shevfelt. as if the sound must betray ‘her to others
besides Mrs. Pettifer, though there was no other
dwelling that opened into the passage—only ware-
houses and out-buildings. There was no gravel
for her to throw up at the window, nothing but
heavy pavement; there was no door-bell; she must
knock. Her first rap was very timide-one feeble
fall of the knocker; and then she stood still again
for many minutes; but presently, she rallied her
courag'e,andg kneelred several times together, not
loudly, but rapidly, so that ‘Mrs.'Pettifer, if she
only heard the sound, could not mistake it. And
she had heard it, for by-and—by the casementof
herwi‘ndow was opened, and Janet perceived that
she was bending outto try and discern who it was
at the door. ‘ ‘ »

“ It is I, Mrs. Pettifer! it is Janet Dempster.
Take me in, for pity’s sake l"

“ Merciful God ! what has happened ‘3”! '

“Robert has turned me out. I have been in the
cold aMnghile.’?, . . . "

Mrs. Bettifcr-said no; more, but hurried May
from theawindow, and was'soo‘n at the door with a
light in her hand. , ' > '

.. Wounds. - or. poor deer. " come: farm-said Elie

goodiywomamain a tremolous voice, drawing Janet
within‘tho door. : f‘Oome into «my warm, bed, and
may God in heaven save and comfort you I”

The pitying eyes, the'tenderzvoice, the Warm
touch, causeda Hush “new feeling-in Janet. Her
heart‘ssmlled,’ and she burst out suddenly,.1ike a
child, Tinto loud,‘ passionate 'sobs. Mrs. Pettifer
coule not ‘ help-crying with her, but she said,
*“upistail‘sgmy dear, come. Don’t linger in
the coldi”r,.f   “ ,
“ghee don‘ter sobbing thing gently up stairs,

herto get into the warm bed. But it

lives long bofom Janet could lie down, she sat lean-

ing .mgrhosd'ou her knees, convulsed by 30b3,;
'wbllefathsifmetberly woman covered her with.
clothes, andhehlher “unsound her toeemfort 1
her  warmth. At last the /hysmricd passion:
_ had  itself, andshe fell back on the

illow; but her threat was still tated prtews‘
{fteosobasuch as shake a littlo‘gihild e333: when
it has found a refuge-from its alarm on its
mother’s lap. ' ‘
New Juneau» gem
termine‘d to odour.
firstthinga  Oldv‘loman Winkle/f as a solace

and restorative under all calamities. Happily;

there was no danger of smoking her- We
heavy girl of sixteen, who was snoring blissfully
in the attic, and might be kept ignorant of the
way in which Mrs. Dempster had come in. So
Mrs. .Pottifer busied herself with musing the
kitchw fire, which was kept under a huge “ miter"
--a possibility by which the coal of the Midland
- Cogmties stones for all its slowness and white
as es. ‘ '
‘ When she carried up the tea Janet was lying
quits still; the spasmodic agitation had ceased,
and she seemed lost in thought; her eyes were
fixed recently on the rush~light shade, and all the
lines of sorrow were deepened in her face.
’ “Now, my dear,” said Mrs. Pettifer, “let me
persuade you to drink a cup of tea; you’ll find it
warm you and soothe you very much. Why, dear
heart, your feet are like ice still! Now, do drink
this tea, and I’ll wrap ’em up in flannel, and then
they’ll get warm.”

Janet turned her dark eyes on her old friend and
stretched out her arms. She was too much ep-
pressed to say anything; her suffering lay like a
heavy wet t on her power of speech; but; she
wanted to has the good, kind woman. Mrs. l’et;
tifer, setting down the cup, bent toward the sad,

her, shaking with terror.~ '

quieter, Mrs. Pettifer do
make a cup often—the

 

bemtiful face,  Janotkiseed her  earnest,

, Web kisses as seal a new
an? closer bond between the helperrand the
he

me,”she said. “But now, you will get into bed.
I shall he still now.” » t , I

Mrs. Pettifer felt it was the best, thing she
could do to lie down quietly and say no more. She
hoped Janet might go to sleep. . As for herself,
with that tendency to wakefulness common to, ad-
vanced years, she found it impossible to compose
herself to sleep again after this agitating surprise.

She lay! listening to the clock, wondering what had

led to this new outrage of Dempster’s, praying for

the poor thing at her side, and pitying the mother,

who would have to hear it all to-morrow.

 

CHAPTER XVI.

JANET ' laystill, as she had promised; but. the
tea, which had warmed her and given her a sense
of greater bodily case, had only heightened the
previous excitement of her brain. Her ideas had
a new vividness, which made her, feel as if she
had only seen life through a dimhaze before; her
thoughts, instead of springing from the action of
her own mind, wereexternal existences, that thrust
themselves imperiously upon her like haunting via
one. The future took shape after shape of misery
before her, always ending, in her being dragged
back again to her old life of terror, and stupor, and
fevered despair. Her husband had so long over-
shadowed her life that her imagination could not
keep hold of a condition in which that, great dread

was absent; and even his absence—«what was it ?

only a dreary, vacant flat, where there was nothing
to strive after, nothing to long for.

At last, the light of morning quenched the rush-
light, and Janet’s thoughts became more, and
more fragmentary and confused. She was every
moment slipping off the level on which she lay

thinking, down, down into some depth from which.

she tried'to rise again with a start. Slumber was
stealing over her weary brain: that uneasy slum-
ber which is only better than wretched waking,
because the life we seemed to live in it determines
nowretched future, because the things we, do and
sufler‘ it in are but hateful shadows, and leave no

‘ impress thatvpetrifies into an imvwable past. '
Shehad scarcely been asleep an hour when her

movements became more violent, her mutterings
more frequent and agitated, till at last she started
up with a smothered cry,,and looked wildly round»

“Don’t'be fri dear as. Missal, id,
Hrs. Pettlfer, w 0 was up and dressing; “ you are:
with me,your old friend, Mrs. Pettifer. Nothing

will harm you.” - V _ ,
Janet sunk . back again on her pillow, still

trembling. After lying silent, a little. while, she

said, “ It was a horrible dream! Dear Mrs. Petti-
fer, don’t let anyone know I. am here Keep it a
secret. .Hhefinds out, he willcome anddrsgme
back- .again." . .

“No, my dear, depend on me. I’ve just the _ ht
I shall send the servant home on it builds. ’ve

promised her a good while. 1’“ send her awayas

soon as she’s had her breakfast, and she’ll have no
occasion to know you’re here. There‘s no holding
servants’ tongues, if you let ’em  anything.
What they donlt know, the won’t tell; you may
trust ’em so far. But shou dn’t you like me to go
and fetch your mother ?” A
‘»‘ No; not yet, not yet.
yet.” * r . , e ,
“ Well, it shall be just as you like. Now try
and get to sleep again. I shall leave you for an
hour or two, and send off Phoebe, and then bring
you some breakfast. I’ll look the door behind
me, so that the girl mayn’t come in by chance.”
The daylight changes the aspect of misery to us,
as of everything else. In the night it presses on
our imagination-«the forms it takes are false, fit-
ful, exaggerated; in broad day it sickens our
sense with the dreary persistence of definite meas-
urable reality. The man who looks with firstly
horror on .all his property aflame in the and 0f

I can’t bear to see her

nigit has not-half the reuse of destitution 113 will
’hfive.,»in the-“morning, when he walks over the;
-‘ruiua lying blrfil'lencd in the pitiless sunshine.

That moment of intensest depression was come to

l, drank thetea obediently. “It doc: warm

‘ That short interview 

 

Janet, when the daylightth showed, her the
Mendelian-arm! Wendell, 
phcerealitythatsunolmdedher,seemed telly
barethofuturemmndbrmgmtinto ire
 alltbe details of a weary life to be
lived from day today, with no hope to strengthen
her against that evil  which she‘loathed in
retrospect and yet _was,powerless to resist. Her
husband would never consent to her living away
from him; she was become n to his
tyranny; he would never willingly loosen his grasp
on her. She had a vague notion of some protec-
tion the law might give her, if she could prove her
life in danger from him; but she‘shrunk utterly,
asshe had always done, from anyactive, public re»
sistanoe or vengeance; she felt too crushed, too
faulty, too liable to reproach, to have the courage,
even if she had had the wish, to put herself openly

3 in the position of a Wronged woman seeking're-

dress. She had no strength to sustain her. in a
course of self-defence and independence; , there
was a darker shadow over her life than the dread
of her husband—4t was the Ashadow self-despair.
The easiest thing would be to go Wayland hide
herself from him. .But then there  her mother :,;
Robert had all her little property in his hands, and.
that little was scarcely enough to keep her in comw
fort without his aid. If Janet went away alone,
he wopld be sure to persecute her mother; and if
she did go away—what then ? She must work to
maintain herself; she must exert herself, weary
and hopeless as she was, to begin life afresh. How
hard that seemed to her! Janet’s nature did not
belie her grand face andrform; there was energy,
there was-strength in it; but it was the s,
of thevine, which must have its broad, leaves and'
rich clusters home up by a firm stay. , And now
she had nothing to rest on—-—no faith, love. If
her mother had been very feeble, . ' orsickly,
J anet’s deep pity and tenderness mig have made
a daughter’s duties an interest and a solace; but.
Mrs. Raynor had never needed We; she had
always been, giving help to her daughter; she had
always been a sort of humble ministering spirit;
and it was one of Janet’s pangs of memory, that
instead of being her mother’s comfort, she had
been her mother’s trial. Everywhere the some
sadness! Her life was a sun-dried. barren tract,
where there was no shadow, and‘wheee all the
waterswerebitter. . - g  : ‘ .
No} W .
tried spring, where the water-eh _t 
back u her-his voice, his  his
which told her that he knew sorrow.

, I W
 hsdforberinreality; surely helm"
mgmmwofmwgmmmgntw
fromthefeeblewordsshe  used when
fromothers. She was  she was sick oi
bamaxhoMtiowDorighhapdkeep 
science, and God will reward you,  
will be croierto bear. 1 ,  . . 
right—s e wanted something to rely “beside: her
own resolutions; for was net'thc path behind her
all strewed with broken molntious 1. How could

sbetrust in new ones?  often heard Mr. V

Tryan laughed atfor being fiend  great sinners.
She toseeanew' mthosewords;
he won d perhaps understand her helplessness, her
wants. If she eculd pennant her heart to him! if
she could, for the first time in her life, unlock all
the chambers of her soul 3
I The impulse to confession almost always re
quit-oaths presence of a fresh ear and a flesh
heart; and in our moments of spiritual need, the
man to whom we have no tie but our  na-
ture seems nearer to us than mother, brother,- or
friend. Our daily familiar life is but [a hiding of
ourselves from each other behind ascreen‘oftn‘rial
words and deeds; and those who sit‘with us at the
same hearth are often the farthest ofi from the
deep. human soul within us, full of unspoken evil
and enacted good. -  L
When Mrs. Pettifer came back .to her, turning :
the key and opening the door very gently, Janet, ' 

 

 

   

 

 

“20

instead of being asleep, as her  friend had
swam intensely oc'bupi’ed with er new thought.

I8he longed~to‘ssli’Mrs-??ettiferii she could'see r

/ ’Tryan  bnt she‘m4*amm by doubts and',timidi-:
 ' e might ' notifeel for her—he might be
is ticked at’her cdnfession~he might talk to her of i

ido‘ctrines she eduld not‘understand er belieVeJ She
Scould not makeup hermin‘d yet; but she was too
'zrestless undérthis mental struggle to remain in
:bed. ’ I ' I I '

“Mrs. Pettifer,” she said, “I can’t lie here any
ion er", 'I must get up. Will you lend me some
«clot es?” ‘ _

Wrapped in such drapery as Mrs. Pettifer could
“find for her tail figure, Janet went dowu into
the little parlor, and tried to take some of the
breakfast her friend had prepared for her. But
her eflort was not a successful one; her on
of tea and bit of toast were only half finished.
“The leaden weight of, discouragement pressed
mpon her more and more heavily. The wind had

fallen, and a drizzling rain had come on; there,
was no prospect from Mrs. Pettifer’s parlor but

:8. blank wall; and as Janet looked out at the win-
?dow, the» rain and the smokeblackened bricks
mused to blend themselves in sickonin identity
“with her desoldtion of spirit and the eadachy
' Wearines‘s of her body. '
~ ‘ Mrs. Pettifer got through her househould work
cassoon as she could, and sat down with her sew-
‘ing, hoping that Janet would perhaps be able to
ta 1: a little of what had passed, and find some re~
Tiled by unbosoming herself in that way. But J a-
rnet could not speak to her; she was importuned
“With the longing to see Mr. Tryan, and yet hesita.
ting to express it. ‘

' wo hours passed in this way. The rain went on
drizziing, and Janet sat still, leaning her aching
.‘head on her hand, and looking alternately at the
dire and out of the window. She felt this could
. ‘not last-this motionless, vacant misery. Shemust
determine on something, she must take some step;
.and yet everything was so dificult. '

It was» one ,o clock, and Mrs. Pettlfer rose
from her seat, saying, “I must go and see about
dinner." - _ r r v
~ j, :; The movement and the sound startled Janet from
‘her reverie. It seemed as if an opportunity were
  and she said, hastily, “ Is Mr. T
Gin t”.    think?”' a

.u  h l s . . > v
a V,   on d, think not, being Saturday, you call

:‘Tetfiller, her faee lighting up with;

 léfil’ire; “ but he would come,- film was sent for.‘

j   “ ’3 boy with a nototohim any .

dime... a [d ¥gm like to see him?”
'. “Ydfif’lthiii I-sliould.” ’ ' ;
f‘wl’figsendfor him this instant."

 

‘ >:_,.-  ' w L
 lawman XVII.

(Wflzt‘fiempster‘awdke in the morning, he was
“art acment-tohimself‘ for the. fact that:
*Jarr’et'irasinot by‘his‘vside‘.’ His-hours of drunken-2
 cutpfffromihis other hours by any.I
, Magma transvestite remembered em Janet;
‘fsiad  the evening before a he re-?
4   Jul had/done'ito‘her at midnight,
"  asheon immembered if he had
'  about dilgi'itfiof roadfp * » ~11; I ,
‘7" The remembrance gate him a‘ definite ground;
, ~ for streams iii—homer which had attended his
'1 waking every morning this week,be he would not;
y'r‘sadmit’ to“ h‘imseifr-‘pthat it cost him any anxiety,
_ » "“ Paola?” h‘e saidfidvtsrdly, “she would go straight
sooner Wither-hf. 5'CBhe’s as timid as a bare; and
she’ll.  let, anybody know about it. She’ll be

v lbaol; 1"," : "gilt." ' ~
4 r , j W ', twouldbe aswell for the servants not to
knowiddythihg’of the affair; so he collected the:
clothesfihe had taken or: the night before, and;
.tlll'ell’lhem‘dnto sire-proof closet of which he
 :alwayslizgtathe key in his pocket. When he went
down I ' [he'said to the house-moi , “Mrs.

"J
or

   

,_
i
E

I ‘ , gLDempst’ér lasers to her mother’s; bring in the

:bredkfaSt.” ' r

The servants, accustomed to hear domestic x

: broils, and to see their mistress ‘put on her-bonnet
 g ' hastily . "and go to her mother’s, thought it only
, ’ ; something a little worse than usual that she should
L have gone thither in consequence of aviolent quar-

rel, eitherat midnight, or in the early morning beg
’ fore'they‘were up. The house-maid told the cook

been; ‘
‘ ‘ ' i in his hand when the lush fell, and the cut went

JANET’s REPENI’AME

‘what she supposed had happened; the cook I shook
«herhead "and said, “ Eh, dear, dear-Ll” 'buttthey:

; both expected’rto see their mistress bait-k again in ~

an hour or two. - r «

Dempster, on his return home the evening be-
‘fore,'had ordered his man, who lived away'from ’the
house, to bring up his horse and gig from the sta-
bles at ten. After breakfast he’said to the house-
maid, “No one need sit up for me tomight; I shall
not be at home till tomorrow evening ;” and then
he walked to the office to give some orders, expect-
ing, as he returned, to see the man waiting with
his gig, But though the church clock had struck
ten, no gig was there, In Dempster’s mood, this
was more than enough to exasper‘ate him. He,
'went in to take his accustomed glass of brandy be-
fore setting out,‘ promising himself the satisfaction
of presently thundering at Dawes. for being a few
minutes behind his time. An outbreak of temper
towards his man was not common with him; for
Dempster, like most tyrannous people, had that
dastardly kind of self-restrait which enabled him to
control his temper where it suited his own con-
venience to do so ; and feeling the value of Dawes,
a steady, punctual fellow, he not only gave him
high wages, but usually treated him with excep.
tional civility. This morning, however, ill-humor
got the better of prudence, and Dempster was de-
termined to rate him soundly; a resolution for
which Dawes gave him much better ground than
he expected. Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter
of an hour, had passed, and Dempster‘ was setting
ed to the stables in a back street to see what was
the cause of the delay, when Dawes appeared with
the ‘ .

“ 5hat the devil do you keep me here for?”
thundered Dempster, “ kicking my heels like a
beggarly tailor waiting for a'carrier’s cart ? I or-
dered you to be-herc at ten. We might have driven
to Whitlow by this time.” ’

“Why, one o’ the traces was welly i’ two, an’ I
had to take it to Brady’s to be mended, an’ he
didn’t get it done i’ time.”

“Then'why didn’t you take it to him last night?

think i give you wages for you to choose your own
hours, and come dawdling up a quarter of an hour.
after my time 7” r '
“ Come, ve me

Dawes, 'sulkgiily. « “ I‘mt lasyynor no sh , ‘
 {know wellsnnff what you gl"~‘me
wages for :it’s for doin’whut yer won’t find many;
' “What, you impudont scoundrel!” said Doing»:
ster, getting into‘the gig, “ you think you’re neces—

wards, ,qu yer i” said

, sary to me, do you ‘3, As if abeastly bucket-carry-

ing idiot like you wasn’t tobe got any day. ‘ Look,
out for a new master, than, who’ll pay you for not
doiugas you’rebid.” "   1 ' ‘ , g
Dawes’s blood was now fairly up. “I’ll look
out for a‘master as has got a better charicter, nor
u'lyin’; blethsrin’ drunkard,an’ I'shouldn’t hev to‘
.gofirfu'.”s _ »' ,-. -< 7 T

3= JDempe‘ter, furlous, matched ‘ the \wliip also. . the

sucked; and; gave Dawes a cat which who" imemt'to’
fall across his shoulders, saying, “ Takethat, sir,
iandig‘o‘to helliwithyoul’i r   i r  '
Dante‘s was inethe act of turning

with the rains?

across’ihis‘face. .Withwhite lips,he said, “I’ll
have the law on yer forthat, lawyer“ y’ are!” and
threivthe reins on the horse’s back.”- ' l 3
r Dempstei'iesned'forwardl, seized the reins and
“ Why, there’s your friend-Dempstergdriving out
without-his man again,” said Mr. Luke Byles, who
was chattin with Mr. Budd in the Bridge Way.
“What a- col» he is to drive that twoawheeled"
gillan ! he’ll get pitched on his head one of these
aya.» ‘ , g .
“Not-he,” said Mr. Budd: nodding to Dempster
gs he passed; “he’s got nine liveS,‘Dempster
as. ’ > -

 

CHAPTER XVIII,

' I'rlwas dusk, and thecandles were lighted before
Mr. Tryan knocked at Mrs. Pettifer’s door. Her
messenger had brought back word that he was
not at home, and. all afternoon Janet had been
agitated by the fear that he would not come; but

 

as soon as that ansiet y was removed by the knock

s

Because of‘your d—d laziness, I suppose. Do you "

’ at therdoor, she felt a sudden rush of doiibtx‘and
*timid‘rtf; Ashe trembled and-turnedoold.~‘ 7:  v
 Painfer went to openr‘the‘door, andde Mr.
Tryan, in as fewwords as possible, Whats had hap-
penedin the night. As he laid down hishat and
prepared to‘e'nter the parlor, she said, ‘t-I'won’t go '
in with you, for 'I think perhaps she would rather
see you go in alone.” ' ' V ' '

Janet, wrapped up in a large white show], which
threw her dark face into startling relief, was seated
with her eyes turned anxiously towards the door
when Mr. Tryan entered. He had not seen her
since their interview at Sally Martin’s, longmonths
ago; and he felt a strong movement of compasaion
at the sight of the pain-stricken face which>seemed
to bear written on it the signs of all Janet’s in.
tervening misery. Her heart gave a great leap,
as her eyes met his once more. No! she had not
deceived herself: there was all the sincerity, all
the sadness, all the deep pity in them her memory
had told her of ; more than it had told her, for in
proportion as his face had become thinner and
moreworn, his eyes appeared to have gathered lir-
tensity. - ,

He came forward, and putting out his hand,
said, “I am so glad you sent for inc—I am so
thankful you thou ht I could be any comfort to
you.” Janet tookiis hand in silence. She was
unable‘to utter any words of mere politeness, or
even of atitude; her heart was too full of other
words t at had welled up the moment she met
his pitying glance, and felt her doubts fall
away. ' v ' ‘

They sat down opposite each other, and she said
in a low voice, while slow, difficult tears gathered
in her aching eyes: - r r ' r .

“I want to tell you how unhappy «I am--how
weak and wicked. I feel no strength to live or die.
I thought you could tell me something that would
help me.” She paused. -

“Perhaps I can,” Mr. Tryan said, “ for in speak“
ing to me you are speaking to a fellow~sinnerwho
has needed just the comfort and help you are need—_
ing.” . :.. i i . -
“ And you did find it 1’” ~ _
‘f Yes; and I trust you will find. it.” ’
“'Oh, I' should like to be good andtto do right,”
Janet burst forth; “ but indeed;  lothas
been a very hard one. I W m husbandi-rsry

all dearly when we were married, and; ‘meartts‘tomake

him happy—41 wanted nothing else. But he began
tobe angry with me for little things and-4 don’t
want to accuSe him-s-but he drank and got more
and‘more unkind to me, and then very cruel, and
he beat me. ‘And‘ that cutme to the  It
made‘me alm0st mad sometimes tecthinkjall our
luvs had come to thaté—I couldn’tzbelirsup against
its Iliad never been used to drhlksanything but
"water. I hated wme'a'ndtspin'ts  Robert
dra‘nkthem so; but one day :When' Iswas very
’wretched,’ and' the wine was standinionpthe table,
'I suddenly-J» can hardly rembmbsr owl conic to
do it-_-—I poured some wine into a largelgl'assiand
drank 5 it. ' It blunted my! feelings; andxziiadevme
'morciindifl‘erent. dAftei‘  was
alwayscomin ,' an 'it rottniongsn‘ ' I ‘ :stronger.
«Iwas' ahhamgi, and I hated-whatrlfldxdibut al-
most while the'thought was passing through my
mind that‘I would never'do it again,.I dideit. It '
seemed as if there was a demo?! in me always
making me rush to dowhat I longed not tovdo.

" ‘And: I thonght‘all the moreith'at God was cruel.;for

if he had not sent me that dreadful trial, so much
worse than otherwomon‘ have to bear, Ishould not
have done wrong in that way. :I, _anppose;,.it is
wicked to think so—I feel as if there must be
goodness’ and right above us, but I can't: see: it, I
can’t trust in! it. And I have gone on in; that Way .
for years and years. At one time it usedtoihe
better now and then, but everything'hasgot worse
lately; I felt sure it must soon and somehow.
And last night he turned me out—of-doors. I don’t
know what to do. I willpower" go back to that
life again if I can help it ; - and yet everything else
seems so miserable; I feel sure that demon will be
always urging me to satisfy the cravingthat comes
upon me, and the days willfigo on as they have
done through all those miserable years.- I shall
always be doing wrong, andxhatinggmyself after--
sinkinglower and lower, and knowmg that .I am
sinking. 0h,'ean you tell me any way of etting
strength ? Have you ever known anyone e me

 

 

JANET’S REPENTANC’F. '
, _ _ B ,

2%?

. ....a... . 2%.,

 

that gotr"‘peaco<: of mind and pains: to‘dov righti:
Can yamgi’ve may” Weary hope?’r’v -  
“While   Wynne hadaforgotten
everything» bother misery and hen  for»
contort. fien’wéica .ltadxrisen from the low tone:
of timid distress to minimise pitch of implcdng.
anguish.“ &e schispodt her, hands tightly, and
lookedxatlfrfll'ryua with eager, questioning :eyes,
with W‘trémbling lips, with the deep hori-
zontal lines of overmastering pain on her brow
In thisartlfical lifeof ours, it is not often we see
a human face with all a heart’s agony in it, un-
controllediby-solf-conéciousneSs; when we do see
it, it startlesussas if we had suddenly waked into
the‘re'al wgrld of which this everyday one is but.
a puppet-show copy; For some moments Mr.
Tryan was too deeply moved to speak: ' ~

“Yes; dear Mrs. Dempster,” he said, at last,
“ there is comfort, there is hope for you. Believe
me, there is, fer I speak from my own deep and
hard: experience.” He paused, as if he had not
made up his mind to utter the words that were
urging, themselves to his lips; Presently he con-
tinued, “Ten years ago I felt as 'wretc’hed as you
do. I ’think my wretchedness was even worse
than yours, for I had a heavier sin on my cou-
s‘cience. Ihadsulfered no, wrong from others as
you have, and I had injured another irreparably in
body'and soul. The image of the wrong I .had
done pursued me everywhere, and I seemed on the
brink of madness. I hated my life, for I thought,
just as‘youdo, that I should go on falling into
temptation and doing more harm in the world;
and I dreaded death, for with that sense of guilt
on my soul, I felt that whatever, state I entered on
must be: one of misery. But a dear friend to
whom I opened my mind showed me it was just
such as I—-—the helpless who feel themselves help,-
less--that God specially invites to come to Him,
and odors all the riches of His Salvation; not for-
giveness only; forgiveneSS w‘duld be worth little if
it lets us 'nnderrthe powers of our evil passions;
but strengthéwthat strength which enables us to
conquerbin." :

“ But,” said Janet, “I can feel no trust in God.
Ham always'to hnvb left ’me to myself. I
havein prayed to him to help me, and
yet or has been just the same as before.
If you‘ felt I aim how did you come to have
hope [and trust 1’” _

“Doflotbélieve that God has left you to your-
self. 'r How can you tell but that the hardest trials
you haw known havolbeen only the road by. which
.he was leading on to that complete sense of
 and, elplcemess, without which you
would anywhere renounced all other hopes, and
trusted‘éin‘ his‘r‘loveaalone? I; know, ,idear. Mrs;
Dempstjer, TI- know itde  to bear. I would
not: speak lightly of your Sorrows. I feel that the
mysteryofour‘lifefils "great, and at one time. it
seemed to me as it does to you.” Mr.
Tr an hesitated again. He saw that the: first
thihg‘fianstvéneeded was to be assured of sym-
pathyZV-She: must be made to feel that her an.
guish was net'strange to him; that he entered into
the only malt-expressed secrets of her spiritual
weakness; infers any other, message of eonso’.
latiofieimu‘ld 'find its :way to her heart. The
tale of‘fther‘nivlne pity was never yet believod
fromi'élips'thaowere not felt to be moved by hu.
man‘pl' .~ [And Janet’s. anguish was not strange
toIMr. ryan.’ He had never been in the presence
of a sorrow and a' selfidespair that had sent so
strong athrlll thro allthe recesses ofhis sad-
(lest orperience; an it is because sympathy is but
a living again through our own pastin a new form,
that confession often prompts a response of can.
tensions fir. Tryan felt this prompting, and his
judgment, too, told him that in obeyingit he would
be taking the best means of administering com-
fort to Janet. Yet he hesitated; as we tremble to
let in the daylight on a chamber of relics which we
have never  except in curtained Silence. But
the first impulse triumphed, and he went on.
“I lived all my life atadistancc from God.
my youthful  in thoughtless selfihdulgence,

'and’allniyliopeewere‘of avatar, worldlykind.‘ I x

{had'hé’fiimght {sf-entering" .  Ilooliod
Karma Wfi’  m. for my father was
 WHO”: me high in tboWbig Kin»
 andihad  Matron; interest in my
behalf in college, i lived in intimacy with the

‘ious subjects upon me- We were living in
'then; it was three years since I had lost sight of

came up to them, I heard one woman say, ‘ I tell
you, she is .dead. 7 This awakened my interest,
The body r
thinking,th I had helped to bring on another.

 

gayest mavenadoptinggiclliesandyicés far‘iihich
I    otmérezplisscr,  the 19m
attending a with ,my‘ c anions You see
I was more guilty, even. thew“ (you have been:
for I throw away all the rich blessingsof ummnbled'
youth . and health; Lhad no excuse in my outward
lot. But while I was at colle e that event in my
life occurred which in the end Iirought on the state
of mind I have mentioned to you—the state of self-
reproach and despair,,which enables, me to under-
stand to the full what you are suffering; and I will.
.tell you. the facts, because I want you to he assured
that I am not uttering mere vague words when I
say that I have been raised from as low a depth of
sin and sorrow as that in which you feel yourself
to be. . Atcollegel had an attachmentth a lovely
girl of seventeen; she was very much below my
own station in life, and I never contemplated mar-
rying her; but I induced her to leave her father’s
house. I did not mean to forsake her when I left
college, and I quieted all scruples ofvconscien‘ce by
promising myself thatI would always take care of
poor Lucy. But onmy return from a vacation
spent, in traveling, I found that Lucy was gone——
gone; away with a gentleman, her neighbors said.
I was a. good deal distressed, but I, tried to ‘per-
suade myself that no harm would come to her.
Soon afterward I had an illness which left my health
delicate, and made all dissipation distasteful to
me. Life seemed very wearisome and empty, and
I looked with envy on everyone who had some
great and absorbing object—even on my Cousin
who was preparing to go out as a missionary, and
whom Ihadbecn used to think a dismal, tedious
person, because he was constantly urgi relig~
ndon

Lucy; and one summer evening,» about nine o’clock,
as I Was: walking along Grower street, I saw a
knot of people on, the causeway before me. the I

and I pushed my way within the circle.
of a woman, d ‘ in fine clothes, was lying
against a door-step. Her head was bent on one
side-and the longeurlshad fallen over her‘cheek.
A tremor seized me when I saw the hair; it was
light chestnut—the color of Lucy’s, I knelt down
and turned aside the, hair; it was Lucywdead~
with paint. on her cheeks. I found out afterward
that she had, taken poison—that she wasin'th’e
powerof awicked woman-(«that the very clothes
on her book were ,not ,. her own. It weather; that,
my past life burst upon main all its hideousness.
I wished I had ,never been born. I couldn’t look
into the future.‘ Lucy’s dead painted face would
follow me there, as'it did when I lmkedtback into
 past—as it did when I sat down to, table with
my friends, when I lay down in my bed, and when
I rose up, , There was, only one thing that c'culd
make life tolerable to me; that was, to spend all
the rest of it in trying to save others from the’ruin
Iehad broil ht on one, Buthow was that possible
for me? , had no comfort, uostrength, no’wis.
dom‘in'my own soul; how could I give them to
others? My mind was dark, rebellious, at war with
imelfaudWLthG,.”' _ , , .

Mr. Tryan had, been looking , away from Janet.
His face was towards the fire, and he was absorbed
in the ima es his memory was recalling. But now
he turned In e es on her, and they met hers fixed
on him with a Idol: of rapt expectation, with which
one clinging to a slippery summit of , a rock, while
the waves are rising higher and higher, watches
the boatthat has put from shore to his rescue.

“ You see, Mrs. Dempater, how deep my need
was. I went on inthis way for months. I'was
convinced that if I ever at health and comfort, it
must be from religion. went to hear celebrated
preachers, and I read religious books. But I found
nothing that fitted my own need, . The faith which
puts the sinner in possession of salvation seemed,
as. I. understood it, to be quite. out of m reach.
I had no faith; I only felt utterly wretch , under
the power of habits and dispositions which had-
Wmaght hideous. evil Athletes! told m 1
fan a friend, , whom! opened all in (feelr
confessed e. .,  '
amonw' gone~ rm,  
once,  '   W

 
  

lead apurer life.
= peace'and strength ?”

, at am, miner‘s: as,

 

a 

partaking; ,0: “his - ruminating ’r that” _  
of guilt;fendhelplessdé8swchwaskfwei dim
sewn; :"ut;“§ai%yo'te «assume-w
ma it; is “you riét ‘ihvites w comé‘to say and
find rest, He asks you to cling to him, to‘leaflob’
him; he ‘does not command you to'Walk’ anne‘with»
out stumbling. He does‘ndf foll‘ you, as your fellow:
men do, that you must- first merit his love; he nei--
ther condemns norv’reproachesryou for the past, he“
only bids you to cometo him that, you may have.»
life; he’ bids you stretch o'nt‘your hands, and'vtake-
of the fullness of his love. Yonha'vé only tofrest.
’on him as a child rests on its mother’s a’r‘ms‘, and.
yen will be upborne by his'divine ’sti‘é‘hgth. That
is what is meant by faith. Your evil habits, you
feel, are too strong for you; you are unable to.
wrestle with them {you know beforehand you Shall
fall. ‘ But when once we feel our‘li‘elplessness 
that'way, and go to the Saviour, desiring to 
freed frOm the power as well» asrthe punishment of;
sin, we are no longer left to our own, strength. As:
long as we live in rebellion against God, desiring
to have ourmvn will, seeking happinessin the things
of this world, lt‘is as if we shut ourselves up in~ as
crowded, stifling room, where we breathe only pol.

soned air; but we have only to walk out underth'e .

infinite heavens, and we breathe the-pure, free air
that gives us health, and strength, and gladn‘eSs.

:It is just so with God’s spirit; as soon as we sub;
,mit-ourselves to his will, as soon as we desire to;

be united to him, and made pure and holy, it is as:
if the, walls had fallen down that shut us ‘ out from

God, and we are fed with his Spirit, which givesue

new strength.” ' ,_ i

“ That is what I want,”'said Janet; “I have lef .
of minding about pleasure. I think" I could be.»
contented in the midst of hardship, if‘ I felt that;
God caredfor me and would‘give mestr‘eng‘th‘ to»
But tell ‘me, did you soon findl
, “Not “perfect ease for a king ‘while, but hope
and trust,-whioh‘_ s strength. No Sense of pardon
for myself could do away with the pain I had in

My friend u’sed'to urge upon me thatmy sin ‘ a'inst
God was greater than my am against her; but, may,
be fromwant of deeper spiritual relegate has

remained to this hour the sustenance me the

bitteres't pang; I could never'res‘cue Lucy": but

God’s blessing I might rescue other week    ', _ '»
lug souls; and that was why! mtéréditlie  i“

I asked-for nothing through. the tastefully ins 

that ,I‘might be devoted mate’s-work; 

swervlhg in search of ‘lcasure  ' , a
hand “orto the left. It as been'cl’ten'a' ' " _ 
gle, but God has been with me, and per  '3
may not last muchlonger.”,  '7 " »' E‘ '

Mr. Tryan‘ paused. Fora ,ymoineot 
gotten Janet, and for’a moment she‘ bidder-gotten;
or own sorrbws. When she“ rocnrred<to'liefself,‘,
it was with a new feeling. , " f   ‘  ‘ ‘
“Ah, what. a difierence between opt-“lives?! 
have been, choosing pain, and working,  ;

yourSelf; and I have  thinking calyxof

self. 'I was'only angry 91nd 
had pain'td bear. Yournevei‘ had that 
ing that I have .bad so often, did yon—4h“,  
was Cruel to‘send me trials and I 
thanodieishave?’ ‘ ‘ ' V    _
“Yes, I had; I had very bias hufieiiéithou lite,
and I .know that spirit‘ of i “ ' ’ '

. ,.  m
made the worst part of your  r ' did not ;.

feel how impossible a is fox-“us ,tojf gdgggng‘huy »
ofGod's‘ dealings,alid "you *  , gigyburself'to.
his will. But ‘what do‘we' knowff/"We

 

foretell the Working of the. molest-ism: new?

own lot; how canwe presume to judgel."of t  .
that are so much too  for us ?’ films-594mg -

ing thatbecomesns but entire submissici, perfect ,
resignation. As“ long as we set up ouraown'wiil .
and our'own wisdom a inst God’s, we mke that ,

. wall Weenies and h love which I have spoken .

of just now. But as soon as ‘we la ourselves on-

tirely at his feet, we have enough .t'giv‘en us to :
guideour own steps; as the footer: ‘, ‘ whom -
nothing of the councils that determinedthé course 2
eithegmatbattiehe lain hears plainly enough.
the word of Wind which he must liberal! obey.

I know, dear Hrs..Dempstor," I  —
blood. , But carry that , tout!» Saviour ~
along with all yenrothir this  d t

is

.:.'$in..

" nmtwam mama. .. )e .

 

.\

I malice us

‘ mighty is the hidden
‘  leaf, and

' NSWMlY'e,  they look at us with sed‘, sincere 

g ‘

JAKET’S REPENTANCB.

 

minimum Mayan a spirit of submission.

Restaurant-om Itbohesdrunk‘tbc

alienated-ring» drags; he knows the

hardwmthngismuetomnfliotmywflhbut,

mm;  :2," said Janet—“pray now that I-
strength."

may have light and .
CHAPTER ' '

Broom leavin Janet, Mr. ‘l‘ryan urged her
stingy to send, or her mother.

“ not wound her,” he said “ by shutting her
out any larger from _ your tro lea. It is, right
that on should be with her.”

“' ' 88,1 will send for her,” said Janet. “ But I
would rather not govto my mother’s yet, because
my husband is sure to think I am there, and he
might come and fetch inc. I can’t go back to
unseat least, not yet. Ought I to go back. .to
him cps ( I ’ '

“ No, certainly not, at present. Something
should be done to secure you from violence. Your
mbther, I think should,,,consu1t some” confidential
friend, some man of character and experience, who
might mediate between you and your husband.”

“ Yes, I will send for my mother directly. But
I will stay here, with Mrs. Pettifer till something
hasbeen done. I want no one to know where I

am, except you. . You will come again, will you ’

not ?' you will not leave me to myself 7" p Y
“ You will not be left to yourself. God is with
you. If I have been able to give you any comfort,
it is because his power and love have'been resent
withus. But I am very thankful that c has
chosen to work through me. I shall ‘ on ‘

to—morrowwot before evening,

shall be at liberty. You will be in my prayers till
then. In the meantime, dear Mrs; Dempster, open
, our heart as much as you, can to y0ur mother and
, rs. Pcttifer. Cast away from you the pride that
shrink from acknowledgln our Weak-

nesotoour friends, Ask them, to Help you in

' guarding yoursel'gfirom the least approach of the

yum,“ , .. Deprive, yourself as {far as
 othititegvcryimeans. and op rtunity of
humid anddhpendenoelsoprayer.  mo
dothié,?”,'fi ‘ ‘, e , '
“1rd,: , '  you. "I wI‘have always
been too. 'roud’;flI could, never 'bear’to speak to
 about. myself..* I, have ‘,been proud . to;
ones in. messages; it has always made me
V / ‘, she has seemed to take notice otmy

H _“  deg-r *Mrs' Dempstér’ you  fiever 

again  life is blank,fand that there is nothing
tolive for will you? See what: work there isth
be done in life, both .in'our own sculs’and to;
others.‘ sex-er it matters little whether we'have
m or loose , this world's comfortin the“ short
9   ,  for the eternal en-

 of, “slave.  that great end oflife

_  » be? troub es hero willfseom only
thahflr‘ll? of  journey." , Now 'I must

’     held out his hand. cost
too]: it and said, “God has been'very ' to me

in sending you to me. , Iwill trustinlnm. I will

 to do everything, you tell me.” , I
. Blessed influence of one true loving human
soulon another! (Netscalculable by. algebra, not
deduelblo‘ . by logic, but mysterious, _ efiectual,
‘ firocess ,by'_‘whic”h the tiny
seedisquickened, and ursts forth into tall stern,
, I g . ) fighting, Wtasselle‘i ‘fiower.
Ideas are often poor ts; oursunfilled e es
 dine/em them; ey pass athwa‘rt us in t in
'vaporlfi niéponnot make themselves felt. ‘But
sometimes they, are made flesh ;, they breathe upon
as with-Normabreath; they touch u's with',soit

o _ sndsreakmsis'  tones" they are
Jfiomsyinspmlin wiialxhisfcqnfiicw.
as, ‘ A audits eve. ,their‘preséhcelse

 

.above the
,cloud rolling under the far-away blue sky. It was

.r "Everyeflowtof that knows in '

 

 

'   .,,xtter.ehuksnis   suave
 no. themes  ,ats‘
 ,, ' . firms -.     11:5:  f
‘   arsed feeefitwssgamu;
’ -»sona.qu,its   h l ' é

 

'* $29.“

(mend htl sunken ,ye
W...  .3 vwwmlhfis

an ' o a
mound worn withconfiict; andh‘oioran
met the self-resourcing faith which hes
a diatconsict into rest. uhehokem
its

which not

the sweet submissive face, he

‘ of despair-ix anguish, and his heart was very full
as heturn away from her. “Let  only line

to see this work confirmed, and then "e—-—

It was nearly ten o’clock when Mr. Tryst: left,
but Janet Was bent on sending for her mother;
so Mrs. Pettifer,‘ as the rcadiest plan, put on her
bonnet and went herself to fetch Mrs. Raynor.
Themother had been too long used to expect that
every fresh week would be more painful than the
last for Mrs. Pettifer’s news to come upon her with
the shock of a surprise. Quietly, without any

show of distress, she made up a bundle of clothes,

and, telling her little maid that she should not re-
turn home that night, accompanied Mrs. Pettifer
back in silence. ’ -

When they entered the parlor, Janet, wearied
out, had sunk to sleep in the large chair, which
stood with its back to the door. The noise of
the opening door disturbed her, and she weal-look-
ing round wonderingly, when Mrs. Raynor came
up, to her chair, and said, “ It’s your mother, J a-
net.”

“‘ Mother, dear mother 1” Janet cried, clasping
her closely. “ I have not been a good, tender
child to you, but! will be—I will not grieve you
any more”.

The calmness which had withstood a new sorrow
was overcome by a new joy, and the mom burst

, into tears.
, , foritwil 'be un- ,
darn You know; but after the evening lecture I .

 

CHAPTER xx.

' ON Sunday morning the rain, hadceased, and J a-
net, lookin out of the bedroom window, saw,
ouse-tops, a. shining mass of white

going to be a lovely April day. The fresh sky, left

clear and calm after the long vexation of wind and
rain, mingled its‘mild influence with Janet’s new ; ppen
;tho ‘hts and

prospects. 'Bhe felt a buoyant cour-
age t at surprised‘herse afterthoeold, crushing
weight of despondency w ch had oppressed her
the day “before; she could think even of  hus-
band’s rage without the old overpowafilg dread.
F fl a delicious hepe—the hope of purification and
inward peace-41nd enteredinto Janet’s soul, and
made it springflimc there as miles "in the outer
world. , ' 3 ‘ ,

While her mother was brushing and coiling up
her thick black hair—~49. favorite task, because it
 to renew the days of her daughter’s rl.
hood—Janet told how she came to send for
Ti-yan, how she had remembered their mes at
Se ly'Hartin’s in the autumn, and had felt "an ,
sistible desire to see him, and tell him her aim and
her troubles. ' ‘ f ' p '

‘f I see God’s goodness now, mother, in ordering
it so that we should meet in that way, to overcome
my’prejudico against him, and mellow feel that
he was good, and then bringing it back tomy mind
in the depth of thy trouble. on know what fool;
isb thin I used: to say about him, knowing noth-
ing of him all the while; and yet he was the man
who was to ve me comfort and help when eVery-
thing else failed the. It is wonderful how I feel
able to speak to him as'I never have done to any.
one before; and how every word he says to mean.
ters my heart, and has a new meaning for  I
think it. must be because he . has felt life more
deeply than others,and has a deeper faith; I be-
lieve everything he says“ at once. His words come
tome like ram on the parched und.‘ It has al-
ways Seemed tome before, as if I could see behind

‘eOple’s words,” one sees behind a screen; but in
r. Tryan'it is‘hisivery soul that speaks.”
, “ Well, in‘ " dear child, I love and bless him for
your flake, i He has given youany comfort. I never
beliéyedthe new people-5 said“ of; hire, though I
had nodesire' to" s and “hear him, for :I an! con-

 

‘Wtedtvi , old-f nee ways.“ Ijfidd‘moro good

     

3%“ . ,

Robert some timeuafter. a little while, v

ltWo go to church. _ ,
{and get the dinner ready for. her by the  she
,comes back. Dear, good womonl Show So ten-.

you th'

. drawhig-room yesterday, when the. cam , -

 

that  consult someone thatmay
formulthyonrhushad. ind Unvebmtum

Mr. lander,” mm:.mam
that. knows, the law, and. the RM to
efmtdot. Mperhafiohomld brig. "m
agreement tor you to vo apart.

bound to mamin you, you km; We
liked, we could move away from Hilbyaad
somewhere else.” ‘ a _ ‘

“ 0h, mother, we must do nothing yet; I must
think about it a little longer. I have a. difiorent.
'feclingtrl‘iis morning from what I 
Some ' g seems to tell me that I must go liwk

loved
him once better than all the world, and I have
never had any children to love. There werethings
in‘ me that were wrong, and I should r like to make
up for them if I can." , ' , A , . r

“Well, my dear, I won’t persuade you. Think
of it a little'longer. But something must be. done
soon. ’ . ‘

“How I wish I had my bennet and ashlwl and
black gown here l” said Janet, after, a MWM’
silence. “I should like to go to Peddiford- Church.
and hear Mr. Tryan. There wouldbe no fear of,

F:

'mymeeting Robert, for he never goes. out on a.

Sunday morning.” - ,

“ I’m afraid it would not do for me to go to
the house and fetch your clothes,” snidllrs. Ray-
DDT. ' ‘ r , , _ . 4 f
“ Oh, no, no! I must stay. quietly. hex-awhile you

I will be first Petitions 

der to me when she took me in, in the nigth
er, and all the next, day, when I couldn’t speak I.-
word to her to thank her.” , , >

 

011mm XXI. ~-

Tnn servants at Dempster’s felt some surprise
when the morning, noon and  of, Satur-
day had passed, and still their mistress , did not re-
a ' ‘ -

l'. A v , . .
“It’svery odd,”said Kitty the house-mold. so
shetrlnmed her nextwoekh ,’ while; My. the
mlddl ‘ cook, looked on :2?th ‘_‘ Do
as Mrs. Raynor was “Land: sent for the
missis afore we was up?” f . V , .;

“ Oh,” said Betty, “ if it had beeu‘thagshe’d ha’
been back’ards an’ for'nrds three or four times atom
now; leastways, she’d, ha’ sent little Ann to let us
know.” I ,l .

:‘tlgehere’s up more not  he?
an master,t youmsy.depend._,”said
Kitty. “1 know those clothes.“ was.  i’ the

El

3-;

come, inesn’t summat. I shouldn’t, ,, ,l‘,
was what theylve bed a. fresh- M about “8’

p’rbps gone away, en’s  minim to
conteback again.” . i. , -

‘5 An? i’ the right on’t, too,”  t.“ I’ ha’
overrun himlong store now, it kind been me.
I wouldn‘t stan’ bein’ molded as she is by no has.
hand,”noti£‘homtho lord i‘thehndl
It’s poor work hein’ an ‘ ’nt that price; I’d
sooner be a. coolewi’out perkrses, an hermit, an’
hon, 311’ try, an’ bake, «all to mind at”. She

may well do as shedoeth. I know I'm glad
of a drop 0’ summat myself when I’m. ~
feel very low, like, tonight: I think I put
beer i‘ the saucepanien’ warm it." - .
'“What a one you are forwamln’ your been,
1' I couldn’t abide, bitter stud I"

“ t’s fine thlkin’; it you maceok‘yon’dknow
what belongs to bein’ a cook, It’s none '50 nice to
hev asir‘cin’ at your stomach, I canton on. You
iwilouldn’t think so much 0’ fine ribbons . ’ your cap

en.” , . - I

“ Well, well,: Betty, don’t be grumpy. Liza
Thomson, as is at WW3“ ‘0 me 33“ Sunday.
‘ I wonder y'on’lbmy 8-“ 3” aha. Eli-RS,
.‘snch goinsoOn' as  l8.,' {But I. says, ‘Tbere’s
things warlike}: wi? ‘13_ {firympéltznsm  my
shaman" assemnw  assures w
all’s‘Saidm’donel- , Loud why... , w

.i

.5.

urchin “xi-roan) ‘ * twinireaeingm bible 
 "  " e‘at‘e‘ollnrog- But selfahMriPhippsxalfloklnny on,“ , , tithe
territory? l  Men; is see we we use fins-“m we ’W'a  WV
 a”: .  vs: :r_...‘.‘.<*t.x_wz.; w, ,  . W-i  -' c ' - * .w .132.  ,z;

 

 

 

 

JWS WEMAKGE, 
them.n,noe.mshom‘sn’spoketo}ob should \ consult-Ema Butrmustkissher lie-agendas toshudder “$.th
lutSnndayl Misfit agorademe and ‘eit npwithher." ’  m him calling her-,shesow
i’the , "s myhelietw-an’hensometoo. I , lanyeyeswem turned on Janetwithaloekof fimfingtohagnotbcr’stelookforbgshwt
al’yathink ’a nobody looks haltsowellaethe surprise as she walked up the aisle of Padditord sure would'find herons, andburstinmher.
“Mike’s . ’airdonenicet Lora! I Church. She feltalittletremorat thenotice she l‘Pm,pny'don‘thave‘ don‘t “chem,”

, he:
MP4 . 1603’ like
“Themed! be line work tomorrow, I expect,"
said Booty,r“when the master comes home,_an’
Dammearin’ as he’ll niver do a stroke 0’ work
lies-him agemlt’llbegoodfunif he setsthe
justice on him forcuttin’ him 'wi’ the whip; the
roasterm g” "ll‘p’rapsget his comb out forums in his

e .

. “Why, he was in a temper like a fi-end this
morning,” said Kitty. “ I dare say it was alongl 0’
what had happened wi’ the missis. We shall ev
a prettyhomo wi’ him if she doesn’t come back—-
he’ll want to be leatherin’ m, I shouldn’t wonder.
He must hev somethin’ t’ ill-use when he‘s in a
passicm.” . “ , ’

“I’d tek care he didn’t leather me—-—no, not if
he was my hueban’ ten times o’er; I’d pour hot
drippin’ on him sooner. But‘the missis hasn’t a
sperrit like me. He’ll mek her come back, you’ll
see; he‘ll come round her somehow. ’3 no
likelihood of‘ her coming back tonight, though;
so I should think we might fasten the ‘ doors and
go to bed when we like.”

On Sunday morning, however, Kitty’s mind‘be-
came disturbed by more definite and alarming con-
jectures abont her mistress. While Betty, en-
couraged by the prospect of unwonted leisure, was
sitting down to continue a letter which had long
lain unfinished between the leaves of her Bible,
Kitty came running into the kitchen and said:

‘Lorl Betty, I’m all of a tremble; you might
knock me down wl’ a feather. I’ve just looked
into the missis’s wardrobe, ‘an’ there's both her
bonnets. She must ha’ ne‘wi’out’her bonnet.
An’ then I remember as or ni lit-clothes wasn't
on the bed yisterday mornln’; I on ht she’d in
’em away to be washed; but she h n’t, for ’ve
been lookin’. It’s my, belief he’s murdered her,
and shut her up i’ that closet as he keeps locked
al’ys. He’s capible on’t.”

‘ _“ Lor’s-ha-m'assyl why, you’d better run to Mrs.
Raynor’s or see if she’s there, arter all. It» was
fingernails? ' ~ .

rs. Raynor had returned home to give direc-
tiona’to her little maiden, when Kit , with the
elaborate manifestation of alarm wh ch servants
 in, .rnahe'd'ln without knocking, and hold-
ing “hands on her heart as if the consequences

to that organ were likely to be very said: I

" It you please ’m, is the missis here i”,

“ lit-5,,Kitty.’ ’Why am youeomé  Y”

‘fBecsiuse‘ ‘m, she’s niver  at’oheme’ since
yesterday mornln’, since afore ( we was u ; an’ we
thought somethin’ must he." happened to er."

H “ No, don’t befrightened, Kitty. Your mistress
is quite‘safe; I know where she in. -~ Is your man-
terethome?"- g ,  I I I, r

, ‘ 9.1%, 531‘; he went out yeste‘r y mornin’, an’
said he shouldn’t be back afore inc-night.” ‘
“Kitty, there’s nothingthejmatter with
your mistress. You needn’t say anything many-
«and about her  awe. from home. I shall
a call .th3 ,  etch
to put on.”

She note than , , a. . .
Kitty,”  there was a mystery she was

not tolnquire into, returned to, Orchard Street,

really sled 90,1310“? that her mistress was safe, but
disappointed nevertheless; at being 'told that she
. was not be frightened... ,fSéihe‘was'sooazd followed
b Mm Limo" in ques 0 e g‘bwn , bonnet.
The godmother. on.1¢amln8,thfiii,D9mpster was
not at home, had at once thoughtthat she could
.gratify JanetZs wish to 30‘ ‘0 Pedalford Church;
“Ben'mytdear,” she said. as she entered Mrs.
. Pettiferls ~parlor;.-_‘_‘ I’ve brought yoeyourblack
clothed aflobert’s not at home, and is not coming
~ till thisievening. I couldn’t find your best 
some but this/will do. I wouldn’t; brmgnnythtng
«186, you know ;. but there can’t. be an : qhaectxon
“nematode felothes tocover, yuan; on can: 0
r t0  urch- nOw, i1   I: will

ti; , I  v-gfif,‘ ,  r ,  ~" , ,  ::
tf‘ilhlt’lamml ‘ .Theaxne’llallthreegm _.

together. Whole  mat

,  an widen:

both-my ’air’s weenie?
'  faction to her that a shed been ableatonceto
take a step that would let her neighbors know her

rgown and bonnet.”

-inthe rooming a her wish

knew she was excltin , but itwas a strong satis-

change of feeling towards Mr. Tryan; she had left
herself now no room for proud reluctance or weak
hesitation. The walk through the sweet spring air
hadstimulated all her fresh hopes, all her yearning
desires after purity, strength and peace. She

thought she should find a new meaning in the.

prayers this morning' her full heart, like an over-
flowing river, wan those read -ma‘de channels
to pour itself into; and then s e should hear
Mr. Tryan again, and his words would fall on her
like precious balm, as they had done last night.
There was a liquid brightness in her eyes as they
rested on the mere walls, the weavers and col-
liers in their Sunday clothes. The commonest things
seemed to touch the spring of love within her, just
as, when we are suddenly released from an neute
absorbing bodily pain, our heart and senses leap
out in new freedom; we think even the noise of

man who is wrapping up our change. A door had:
been opened in Janet’s cold dark prison of self-

ing in its slanting beams through the blessed Open.
' . There was sunlight in the world; there was
hngivine love caring for her; it: had given her an
earnest of good things; it had been preparing com-
fort for her in the very moment when she had!
thought herself most forsaken.

Mr. Tryan might well rejoice when his eye rested
on her as he entered his desk; but he rejoiced with
(trembling. He could not look at the sweet hope-
ful face without remembering its yesterday’s look
of agony; and there was the possibility that that
1093: might return. . . '

Janet’sVappearance at, church was greeted not
only by wondering eyes, but by. kind hearts, and
after the service several of Mr. Tryan’s hearers,

with whom she had been on cold terms of late,

contrived to come up to her and take her by the
hand. . '

“Mother,” said Miss Linnet, “ do let us go and
speak to Mrs. Dempster. I’m sure, there’s a great
change in her mind towards‘Mr. Tryan. , I noticed
how eagerly she listened to the sermon, and She’s
comewith hire. Pettifer, you: see. We oughtto go
and 've her a welcome amongns.”

u  she’s been as haughty as any-
thing since I quarreled, with her husband. How-

' ever, let by~gones be 'by-gones; I’ve no grudge

again’ the (poor thing, more particular as she'mn’st
ha’ flew in her husband’s face to come and hear
Mn Tryan. Yes, let us go an’ speak to her.” ‘ .

The friendly words and looks tenched Janet a
little too keenly, and Mrs; Pettifer wisely hurried
her home by the least-frequented read; When they
reached home, aviolen't fit of weeping, followed by
continuous lassitude, showed that the emotions of
the morning had overstraised her nerves. She was
suffering, too, from the absence of the long-accus»
tomai stimulus which she had promised Hr. Tryan
not totouch again. The, poor'thing was conscious
of this, and dreaded her own- weakne'ss, as the vic-
tim of internment insanity dreads the oncoming'of
the old illusion. , - \

“Mother,” she whispered, when Mrs. Raynor
urged her to lie down and rest all the afternoon,
that she mightbe the better prepared to see Mr.
Tryan in the even‘ "5“ mother, don’t let me
have, anything if ,I ask for it.” ' r

In the mother’s mind there was the same anx-
iety, and in her it Was (mingledrwith another fear
«the fear lest Janet in her, preSent excited state

tion, to her husband, whichmlight lehd back to all
the dormer (troubles; The hint she had throw}; out

)

liner showed a. new eagerness

  
 

 

 

VI.

tregnble. J r 
 rifles? , esrmreh  diagnose. . .
     
lb? shroud ' res wallets brmtntelh :-

 

fl

streets harmonious, and are ready to hug the trades- I

despair, and the golden light of morning was pour- ‘

“ y.  dear, we’ve never spoke friendly'these
five year. . o

of mindfishould take some premature, step in role-7

to ‘retui'n 390 him “mm:
A , for-difficult duties.
gym I v 13. we > the.151.lg‘§9;da¢¥1e§r 

she halal”, .,“ou ,netlterboth
stay‘withmotillllrr _ comes.” ‘

‘ At twenty minutes past six the church belhwero
ringingfortheeveningserriee, and soon the con-
gregatlon was summing  Orchard Street in
the mellow sunset. The street opened towards the
west. The red half-sunken sunshed aeolemn len.
dor on the every-day houses, and V n A the
windows of Dempster‘ projecting upper-story. '

Suddenly a loud murmur arose and spread along
the stream of church goers, and one ‘ after
another paused and looked backward. At the far
end of the street, men, accompanied by a miscel-
laneous group of onlookers, were slowly 
something—a body stretched on a door. Slowly
they passed along‘the middle of the street, lined
all the way with awestruck faces, till they turned
aside and paused in the red sunlight before Demp~
ster‘s door. " ‘

It was Dempster’s body. No one knew whether
he was alive or dead. ‘ ‘  ' .

 

t CHAPTER XXII.

Ir was probably a hard saying to the Pharisees,
that “ there is more joy'in heaven over one sinner
that repenteth, than over ninety andnine just per-
sons that need no repentance? And certain in-

philosophers of our own day must surely
take offence at a joy so entirely out of correspond-
ence with arithmwcal' proportion. But a heart
that has been taught by its ownsore lee to
bleed for the woes of another—that'has “ learned
pity through sufiefing”—-is ‘likelyl'to'find very im-
perfect satisfaction in the “ balanée of he piness,"
“ doctrine of compensations,” and other 3 01-1; and
easy methods of robtaining thorough complacency
in the presence of pain; and for such a heart that
saying will“ not be altogether dark; The emotions,
I V have observed, are but slightly influenced by
arithmetical considerations ; the mother, when her
sweet lisping little ones have all been taken. from
her, one after another, and she is hanging over her
last dead babe, finds small consolation'ln the fact
that the tiny dimpled corpse is but one of a neces-
sary average,  that a  other babes
brought into the world at the same tithe undoing
well, andare likelyto live; and ifyou stood beside
that mothmr-if you knew that ‘ and  it
-+-it is probable you would be equal y unable taste
a find of complacency in/statisticait "   ;

‘ btless a complacency resting'on thaibaeisis
highly rational; but emotion! rm is o ’ _ ‘
irrational; it insists on caring to: ; "it
absolutelyrofuses to adoptthe’qnantitativ‘e View
ofhuman anguish, and to admit that thirteen hap-
py.liv’es are a set-OR ‘ twelvemieerahlehves,
which leaves a'clear cs on the sideof’satis-
faction. This is the inherent imbecflityof  '

andonemustbeagreatv 
' uiteclear'of allthat,and).to have L ’ ' 

t a serene air of pure intellect, in which. '_ isevi.
dent that individuals really exist for no otherfpnr.
pose than that abstractions maybe 
them—abstractions that may rise from heaps of
ruined lives like the sweet savor ot a" straddles in
the nostrils of philosophers, and of-a philosophic
Deity. And so it comes t'opass thatfo‘r the ’man
who knows symdpathy because he hashnewn sor-
row, that old, 01 saying about , joy of angels
over the  outweighing 

over the. ' ety'nhie just. basin  i:
.does not "or withthe Imguage of Mantra hedrt.
It onlyte  thstlfm' angelstoo thereisa
transcendent value inhuman which refuses
to besettled by equations '; that thee es of angels
teem turned away from-theme of
the'righteods‘to bond with ' I ‘  the
poor string soul wandering 
water is ;_' that for angels  rtMr-imhofyiélf one
casts so tremendous-a shadow asto’ eclipeethebliss

gone  

mommy-nine. ' H v .
  " had  initiation“ ‘ of
glittering; it is no condemned, that assesses.
 to rats than? "RWBE his; heart;
‘mdtiir‘t; wear-yachts m in Wifhenfiesentered

 

omits Weierstrass: 

   

 

 

$119339
,..,Pettl£a;j’ayy-tli’e§is naturism; for concealin that,

the  rm yery thankfulfshedld
' 39's 7

V. as agrgmiryou’n let me know if; iver “there’s
w anytime-I can do for ,
xvxhstafidrlsitgis is! I think I geeky: fifteen
5  ., a. p.91: .coup as Yerwns; ;
r,  smudge; iom?tol- I was in a'hurry
 no opinion»: .
_ We: .9-  hen at work nor mine.”

_ swallowed whoth 2”! .

. 1Wy,’thatlm; fiatjheg‘on you to tell Mrs.
Destroyer“! mean, in course, when. you’ve an

 

 teem-em, rarer  ‘ at. has“,



have a,   . .   ,r

 delimit unease. who nachos
‘fd    redone. handsome; by.
listening, withn. distressed face, “I shall. a it

,‘h’i

:

  
 

.. .. . _. 52’.-.
 *trr’;...f"‘ Tunes: when i,
"i  r'9'1511.!‘i1""<>f‘ "depression

to re its
 ""E‘vfiififl'i
ass-ere;

  

  ’ixifif‘rehiénf’theintranet éuté
‘Wé‘d'dl s1 ‘ lithe ray;ritreresqmuirrve
so keen oe_.,hé..cbun only find retards-tine
testbed?  desalted briifties’ur his :1 heart in
greyeii‘g.‘ jerénre‘ unseen elements which tuften

Insertion Wiéesi.cfil0fi1&fi°n$5fwmcfi 'mise'up
of: 9511’. girfmm the edge“ or or sameness»
,‘ing‘ the ” ropl'ieciés: or the clear-sighted physician,
"and 11’1"; ling the blind, clin' inghhopes of effec-
.tion‘; such. elements  Trynn called the
,DWineJlel‘, and filled up the. margin of ignorance
Whith'rsllgwunds ell'our.,knowled e with the feel-
ings of ,‘trust‘ and resignation. erhaps‘ the pro-
-foundest. philosophy eculdhardly fill it up better-
’ file mind was ' e‘cupied' in this Way as he was ab-

 

'sé?ntly,etak.ngnfo y'his gown, when Mr. Lando'r
,sta‘rtledhiin; y’ entering the vestry and asking ah-

,"'/ ave you heard the news about Denipster? ”

. ,.-‘f.NQ,”,.said Mr. Tryan,‘:anxiously;_“ what is it ‘1 ”
" one has been thrown out of his gig in, the
Bridge Way, and he was taken up for dead. They,

were cerryin him home as we were coming to,
church, and stayed behind Ptosee what I could.

do. LIWEK’E in to speak to Mrs. Dempster, and pre-
' pareher slittle, butshe Was not at home. Demp-
"ster,is,-in9t dead, however; he was stunned With
the .fall; Pilgrim coins in a few _.r’ninutea, and he:
.says'the rightlegis broken in two places. g‘It’s.
likely,tobeaterrrblecase, with his state of 
It seemslhe was morefdrunk  usual, and they
say. heeeme alongithe Bridge Way flogginghis
,horse‘like a.  till ,at last it gave 9.. sudden
wheel, end he, was pitched out. The servants said
{theydidnft know where Mrs. Dempste'r was-«she
 beeuowa from" home since yesterday morn-
i118; butMrs. Yum? knew.” ' I e

I =‘.‘.I,knrow whet-celleisfi’ said Mr. Tryan; but,va
‘thinklitywillhe better for her not to be told of this
:"ustre,_." 2- w  ’ ._ .

‘Ja‘fjdh, thitt,,_w‘as what {Pilgrim said-and so I
 ’, yto Mrs. Reynorls. VHe; said it
I  better. if. Hrs. Demeter, Could flee
kart outs  themes "for the r’rewnt- 3159'. is“
know ,lflflauything, new; has happened? between
.Dempster anshiswifieh 9'21? res SI 1 _ ‘ .
.hear’otherhe ,ati’edd ,phyuroh t mornf
siresr‘some' ' "  ' taihtptenedigttnt I believe
‘ ' H’ msfigme possum" of his behavior
towards er should not be known. [She is at Mrs.

   
 

omegmhar  happened'mher husbnu ;, and
(yesterday .- pyhen. shew“. in very deep trouble,

 Is ,. #6118986 of feélins liable
 , nut , is.ut'present.in thet ciroituble
.smindgshe hes been, shaken by so mun

 
 

nit * r

  " s’dunng" the last two “days, thut

_ z , I new..shook,-ifvpo‘ssxle. [But-
*1  Rhonda.le upon hegond _I.',ehell see

Mrs. Dumpsters Elude”,

star for pestsecutin’, but there

r; 7  Jerome; butdowtlet us rejoice in
unis .evvenwhenéthe hand of;God alone
best .of us  but :poor watches

 

hand ,
just  from or neck: can we feel “mug
buts“  en's” we. ‘4 mum’i’wng"

“ '  [I’m over hot 

m2 gohoinotwen hourtoreehovher little maiden

muf‘g‘vggfiéistisé   “grocers?
g r . ’i A; '

case, I t
feelings, she would be pained afterward to have

to  to persuade her to remain out of the

_ I’ve

.Tryan, he told her in" a few words whet'hed hep.

‘She, seems frig "toned at the thought of‘7being"

'Janet was  awaitingghim eagerly, mid her

Jsmrrs’rrrrmnwos '

is‘exa'ctily'the’ state of' things-by this? time ’ 
Qdo you thinktm y  3:..7 3'; A ' “MiG
.1“ 5‘3] airplane. "If Mrs. #Demosteris: to known,
therein) enema break the news; toner. e0 you;
as “1’11 walk with "you to Demp’eter’e‘ door.
I dare say Pilgrim is "there still. ' COmé,Mif.- Jerome,
you’ve got to go our way too, to fetch yOuré
horse)? "  . "' _  ‘ ,’

Mr. Pilgr‘ir‘n‘ was in the passage ivin‘g’ some di-T
reetions to his assistant, When, to is surprise, he:
saw Mr, Tryan enter. They shook hands; for, Mr,
Pilgrim, never having joined the partyof the Anti-
Tryanites, had no ground for resisting the growing
conviction that the Evangelical curate was really a
good fellow, though he was a fool for not taking
better care,of himself. ' 7 " ' - '

“Why,.I didn’t expect to see you in your, old
enemy’s quarters,” hesaid to Mr. Tryan‘. “How-
ever, it will be a good while before poor ‘Dén'ipster
shows eny'fight again”, ‘ ' r " ’ ‘

“I come on Mrs. Dempstér’s account,”‘said Mr-
Tryan. f‘She isstaying ‘at Mrs. jPetti’fer’s; she
has had a great shock'from some severe domestic
trouble lately, and I think it will be wise to defer
telling her of this dreadful event for a. short
time.” '

“Wh ,what has been up, eh ?” said Mr. Pil-
grim, w ose curiosity was at once awakened. “ She
used to be no friend of yours. Has, there been
some split between them? It’s a new thing for
her to turn round'on him.” ' _

“ 0h, merely an exaggeration of scenes that
must often have happened before. N Butthe ques-}
.tion now is, whether you think there is any immey
diate dun er of her husband’s death; for in that

hgnk, front what I have observed of her

been ke t in ignorance.”

“We ' there’s no telling in these cases you
know. I don’t apprehend speedy death, and it is
not absolutely impossible that we may bring him I
round again. At present he‘s in a steteof apoplec—
tic stupor; but if that subsides, delirium is almost:
sure to sulperVene, and we shall have some painful
scenes. t’s one of those complicated cuses in’
which’the delirium is likely to be of the, worst
kinda-meningitis and “delirium trimens together-+-
and'we may have a. good deal ,on trouble yith him.
if Mrs.  told, I should agyrit would

house at  * She could do no good, you know.
turn-see.” " ‘ , f 1 ‘
- “ kybu,”_said’ Mr. Tr’yan.‘ “Thet is what
Iwnnted to know. Good-bye.” ‘ ' , » V
menus. 'Pettifer opened the  for’ Mr;
nod, and begged' ' herto take sn‘op‘ '(’ ty of
igloo Mrs. Raynor know, that they hyif’pos.
sible, concur in preventing a. premature or sudden
disclosure pfth‘é event to Janet; 1  ~  ’,
‘froor‘thliigl" said Mrs; ‘Pettifer. {‘She’s, not
fit to hear .941de news; she’s very low, this
evening—prion: out with feeling" and she's notxhad
anything to he her up, ass on  used to.

tern ted to tukeit.”‘ f " , . _ V, ,
‘ “ghoul: Godwfor it! That fear is herigreatest
security.”7 , .y , ,. 1' ', , ‘ 
When Mr. :l‘ryan entered the parlor-this“ time,
pale, sad face was lghte'd upwi'th a smile as she,
rose to meet him. ut‘the next moment she said,
with a look of anxiety: _ . ' .  '
“'How very ill , nd tired you look! You have
been working'so hard all day, nugget you ere come.
to talk to me. Oh, you are, w , ng yourself out.
I must go and risk Mrs. Pettifer to come and make
you. have some supper. But’this is my mother;
you have not seen her befo ‘ I think?
1 ‘ While Mr. Tryan ms 'n’g" to tire. Raynor,
Janet hurried out, and he, seeing that this good-
nstured thoughtfulness on his behalf would help
to counteract her depression, was not inclined to
oppose her wish, but .aocepted the Sup 1" Dire.
Pettifer offered him, quietly talking thew ' 0 about
colouring chihhe was goin to establish in Pad-
diford, and the want of pro ‘ t‘hobita sarong the
My, however-thirst. Rey-nor Sold she must

_ end In. roster no the  

 

 

“‘5' 

‘ opport’ ' most telling ind

   

  

,Ra‘ . orset out. “ »

shaman,  {Winner-Junetdwssr loft.
 shreds: *"   ; .4 "

   to  ' émyéhhs?
 ' ' ‘ n" on; sum , yieeiin sobmfiohh 
*heur do  3' - rho. morning,S"When‘-dr’t‘olti so
hope“ «helium; Ifithought” ‘ shotrldf'flliifltu "

back to “him, and try to make up for‘fitliutl‘l'hgi:
beenm'dhgdn- mew :I-ithought‘, now? God‘i’ould
help~me,;had~1 shouldhave youto‘teach andhdvlse
me,xo;nd I'could bur tlie troubles that would 
But since then-wall  afternoon and gyemug,.1
have had the some feelingslyuisadftogharegthe
somedread of 111811130! and elty,:apd itseems
to me as if I should never be (Sale to bear it with-
Out felling into:the some sins, anddoinig justmhut.
I did before. ' Yet if it were settled'thut Ieshould
live. apart L from him, I know; itrwould olways be}
a loud on mymind that I had Shut-myselflout-irom
going baok‘ tollim. It s‘eemsoidrrewdfulsthingvin

i life, when anyone has been so near to oneresehusr

band for fifteen years, to part and be nothing to
each other any more. Surely that is a .very; strong,
tie, and I, feel as if. my duty can notice lieuquite
away. from it. ' It is very difficult to know what to»

do: what ought I to do?” . . '

“ I think it will, be well not to take. any ded-
sive step yet. Wait until younmind is calmer.
You mi tremolo. with yourmbthenfor ,a little-
while. think you have no real ground fer fear»

,ing soy annoyance from your husband at, present}.
: he has :putJhimself. too much inlthe' wrongyheywill
,uerylilrelesoave» you unmolested ’forgsouie time.

Dismiss , difficult quotient? your mind just.
now; :1: you.  Eyery 31W-  , flay. hrins‘yo‘u
new ounds or decision; andwlvlot "most need-

ful : or your. health or niindfis  from that,
haunting anxiety shunt the future, Which has been
preying on you. Cast yourself on God, and: trust.

.that‘he will direct you : he 'will melts your duty clear
to you, if youweit submissiver on him.” ' '

“ Yes; I will warm little, as you tell ,xne. -' I will

go to my mo’therls ’to-morrow and. prey to be

guided rightly; You will pray or‘,1ne,_.too.’l"j, .

 

.-  crimes  '  

I . .2   , 1‘ if .t »
Tue next.,mormna,. .deso In, 

and,“ breakfast is». .

her' mother’s, that rd. Potato:- and.  " ‘ '

    

wort  ,ranen‘her‘, is, , * .n as
skewer":- siii there no 1.6 been ,. got her. one-
ing some one who woud may; 9 fact; Bettina.
Raynor thought it would be well first to.  it.
Dempater’s and ‘uscertain how he Was; so, she said.
to dainty   h: v if .   ;   
‘ . j t  s9; ins, stead  ' ~
and 3' room ready;.“JYou' needhiiho‘ " ..yet,

you [,4 ow. Sui/shellhhe’hookr again, infill, "our or
so, andweoaugo to  .’."  ,  ’  
, ‘1‘ 01;, 110,? Bald‘vfirs‘.‘P “   
me till evening; I shallhe tiwltfiofitwfififiYou
needn’t go‘till'quit'e evening.“ «- '    1' '
Janet  dipped into the “1%” “Henry
Martyn," which" rs. Pottifef  l‘ 3' they'l’ei

.diford management-y; and Her W was so or—

restea by that pathetie missionary stdry,‘tlié.t' she
readin acquiesced: in  propositions, and Mrs.

"e had heenlgone more than an hung-and ‘it
W313 nearly twelve prices, when Janet fput" goon
heiitbobki 5933317”? 5mian Ime'diiati'folyffor some
minutes with her eyes undensciously- fixed on" the

:6P9081ie will, she rose, went to her'he'd'room, ‘und,
hastily putting on her bonnet and. shewhr‘came
gpwg  Hrs. Pettifer, who was my 'in'the
' to en." * r  

“Mrs. Poorer,” she -said,"“tell-“Wet‘,'When

‘ she comes, back, Pin gone to see What‘hae Meme

of those poor Lakina in Butcher "Lane. I know
they’re half starving; and  them so;
lately. And then I think Eli go on. to Mrs. (hove.
Iwant to'sbe'the doshllttlewomummdtellher
rnyself about: in ngng'vw he». lin'l’ryan. mm:
won’t fesiltih'el so much-if I‘tell herynysem” .
“.W0t|,’t'yo‘f welt till your mother comes “put,
it or gum-1m  futures, dam.
“You badly : n- ordinary" " u
get  t; are. damn. And  kn”;
‘ you when ’8 you know”  r
“on, Memorial“ up n.thl'“m,,

 

 

 

 

 

JANET-’18 ’REPEWTAMQQ “I,

2h“: ,

 

_ it =.he§.,§ot  osmium  manage-21.

in t  be. steering  someone-not
be 3. Increments log, any. lodgers? I’ve been. read:
ins about that wonderful firm Martyn; he’s. just
like Mr. himself out forother 
ple, and I sit  of ‘nothing but myself. I
must go. Good-bye; I shall beback soon.”‘  _

She ran ofi before Mrs, Pettifer could utter an-

other word of discussion, leaving the good woman
in considerable anxiety lest this new impulse of
Janet’s shouldfrustrate all precautions to save her
from a sudden shock. _ . .
Janet having paid her visit in Butcher Lane
. turned.’ again into Orchard street on her way to
Mrs. Grewe’s, and was thinking, rather sadly, that
her mother’s economical housekeeping would leave
jio abundant surplus to be sent to the hungry Lae
kins, when she saw Mr. Pilgrim in advance of her
on the other side of the street. He was walking
at a. rapid pace, and when he reached Dempster’s
door, he turned and entered without knocking.

Janet was startled. Mr. Pilgrim would never
enter in that way unless there were some one very
illin the house. It was her husband; she felt
certain of it at once. Something had happened to
him. Without a moment’s pause, she ran across
the street, opened the door, and entered. There
was no one in the passage. The dining-room door
was wide opens-mo one was there. Mr. Pilgrim,
then, was already up stairs. She rushed up at
once to Dempster’s room—~her own room. The
door was open, and she paused in pale horror at
the sight. before her, which seemed to stand out
only with the more appalling distinctness because

3 the noonday light was darkened to twilight in the
chamber.

Two stron nurses were using their utmost
forceto hold empster in bed, while the medical
assistant was applying a sponge to his head, and
Mr. Pi rim was busy adjusting some apparatus in
the round. Dempster’s lines was pur 1e and
swollen, his eyes dilated, and fixedwith a col; of
dire terror on something he seemed to see ap-
proaching him from the iron closet. He trembled
violently, and struggled self to jump out of bed.

“1469111630! let me gal" he said in a loud,
hoarse whisper. “She’s coming . . . .sbe’s cold
'. . . .she’s dead. . . .she’ll strangle me with her
black heirl- Ah!” he shriekedlzlglpd, “her hair is
allserpen‘ ts”..me serpents....
theyhlssc. . .theyhiss‘. .' ,Jctme o. . . .let me
go. . .'.. .she wants to drag me with . or cold arms
. . .   h.  .they are great
whitewpentl... . .they’lltwinc round me. . . .
shW:todmgme into thoracic} water. . >. .her
 m this black. . . .H is all ser-

“no, Robert,” Julieta-led in tones of yearning
gt? rushing $01116 aided! the bed, and stretching
outherarma towu'ds 'm, “minerals Janet. She
is norm ' forgives you.” i A

 Demoster’s maddened senses seemed to receive
some new impmsion "from her appearmce. The
text-organ way to rage. ' - , '

. A“ Ham sneaking hypocrite!” hehurst out, in
a, ‘ '  “you'threatenme. . . .‘you mean
to crescent revenge on me, do you? ‘Doyour
mt! iti’re got the law onmy side . . . '. I know
mum)»: on,  down  at here. . .
prove  ', that I was tampered with
WWIWthe money. . . ..prove it. . . .you

 prove it i . . .you' d——d psalm-singing
‘ tel 1’1le 6 afireunder you, and smoke
01f this whole pack of you. . . .Iill sweep you up.
, Iill  u to powder. . . .small powder.” (here

hisvoice git-(hpped to a low toneof shuddering dis-
gust). . .“powdcr on the bed clothes. . . '.running
about. . . .blsck lice, . . .they mooningin swarms

 . Janet: comcand take mommy. . . .curse.

you 1 why don’t you come? Janet i” ‘

Poor Janet was kneeling by the bed, ’with her

 

face  in her hands. She alumst wished her-

worsi. moment back again rather than this. It

6136de as if her husband was already imprisoned '

in misery, and she could not reach hi1n——his car
deaf forever to the sounds of love and forgiveness.
His sins  modes hardorust round his soul;
her listing Moe could not pierce it. .

' “ at the“), isn’t; she i" he went on, in a defiant
tone. “Why-«do cheek me where she is? I’ll
. .‘ have yellow blood out 1gi‘bgrour veins

r if   youth . is yellow

 

»   a ’_4 ,-

e. :er-in   arse  messing-ens, of.“ your
‘ Willa“. you’re.chmsins in“: trade}
«are  They’ve crawling-7 . . they’re flyins -, -.
they’re iiyhig. aboutmy heap. . . .the toadsuare;
flying ahOuti Hostlcr! hustler! bring cut my gig
. . . .bring it out, you lazy ,beast... “he! you’ll
follow me, will you ?. . ._.yOu’11fly about my
oead. . . .you’ve got fiery tongues. . . . Hostler!
curse you! why don’t you come? Janetl come
and take the toads away. . . . Janet l” ,

This last time he uttered her name with such a
shriek of terror, that J met involuntarily started
up from her knees, and stood as if petrified by the
horrible vibration. Dempster stared wildly in si-
lence for some moments ; then he spoke again in a
hoarse whisper : r

“Dead . . . .is she dead? She did it, then.
She buried herself in the iron chest. . . . she left
her clothes out, though. . . . she isn‘t dead . . ' . .
why do you pretend she’s dead? . . . .she’s com-
ing. . . . she’s coming out of theiron closet. . . .
there are the black serpents. . . .stop her. . . .
let me go. . . .stop her. . . .she wants to drag
me away into the cold black water. . . . her bosom
is black. . . . it is all serpents. . . . they are get-
ting longer. . . .the great white serpents are ge
ting longer!”

Here Mr. Pilgrim came forward with the appar-
atus to bind him, but Dempster’s struggles became
more and more violent. “Hustler! hostleri" he
shouted, “bring out the gig . . . . give the whip l”
--and bursting loose from the strong hands that
held him, he began to flog the bed-clothes furiously
with his right arm.

“Get along, you lame brute l—sc-sc—sc! that’s
it! there you 0! They think they’ve outwitted
me, do they? he sneaking idiots! I’ll be up with
them by-and-by! I’ll make them say the Lord’s
Prayer backward.  . I’ll pepper them so that
the devil shall eat them raw. . . .so—se-sc-—
we shall see who’ll be the winner yet... . . get
along, youd—d limping beast . . . . I’ll lay your
back open. . ,. . I’ll”—-———

He raised himself with a stronger eifort than
ever to dog the bedclothes, and fell back in con-
vulsions. Janet gave a scream, and sunk on her
knees again. She thought he was dead. I

Assoon as Mr. Pilgrim was ableto give her a
moment’s attention, he came to her, and taking
her by the arm, attempted to drawher gently out
oftheroom. ’ , '  _‘ M.

“ Now, my dear Mrs. Dempster, let me persuade
you not to remain in the room at present. We
Shall soon relieve these symptomsJ hope; it is,
nothing but the delirium that. ordinarilyattends
such cases)? ‘  / “ ' " ' _

“ 0h, whens the matter 3‘ * what broughtit 011?”.

“He fell out of the gig; the ri ht leg is broken;
ltis a terrible accident, and I on’tdisguise that
there is considerable danger attending it, owing to
the state of the brain. But Mr. Dempsterhas. a
strong constitution, you know; in a few days these,
symptoms may be alloyed, and he may do well.
Let mebeg of you to keep out of the room at pres.
out: you can do no good until Mr. Dempsterts bet-
ter, and able to know you. But you c ht not to
bealone; let me advise you to have rs. Raynor
with you.” . . . , '

“Yes, I will send for mother. But you must
not object to my being in the room. I shallbe very
quiet now, only justat first the shock was so great;
I knew nothing about it. I can help the nurses a»
great deal; I can put the cold things to his head.

Ie may be sensible .for a moment and know me.
Pray do not say any more against it; my heart is
set on being with“ him." -.

Mr. Pilgrim gave way, and Janet, having sent
for her mother and put elf her bonnet and shawl,
returned to take her‘place by the side of her hus-
band’s bed. ,» , r,

 

CHAPTER XXIV;

Dar after'day, with only short intervals of rest,
Janet kept her place in that sad chamber. N o.
wonder the" sick~room and the lazaret‘to have so of:
ten beenrarefuge iromrth‘e tossings of intellectual
doubtfaplace of repose tor the worn, and wound
ed spirit. Here is a dutyabont which all.creedB-,Wd
all philosolphies are of  here, shim-entire“
science wi not be do  by Milkthfi 'bfifii'gn

 

impulse will  , ked- trauma theory;

 “ntoastuiihouts .     
,i'narr sunfigm’fem. ‘ were  
lips thro _ thezlo  nightwatehes, mibearvu' ‘th 
drooping cad, to ii is the helpless limbs,"to wine
the wantrthat can find no utterance beyond the ’

,feeble‘motion of the hand or beseeching'  of

the eye-nthese, are offices that demand “no self; I
.questionings, no casuistry, no assent to prOprL ‘
tions, no weighing of consequences.
four walls where the stir and glare of the world

shut out, and every voice is subdued, where a human

being lies prostrate, thrown on the tender mercies of

his fellow, the moral relation of manto manls .
reduced to its utmost clearness and simplicity; ‘
bigotry cannot confuse it, theory cannot‘pervert It,

passion, awed into quiescence, can neither pollute

nor perturb it. As We bend over the sick-bed,

all the forces of our nature rush towards thé‘chani
nels of piety, of patience, and of love, and sweep

down the miserable choking drift of our quarrels, our

debates, our would-be wisdom, and our clamor-ens

selfish desires. This blessing of serene freedom '
from the importunities of opinion lies in all Sim"
ple direct acts of mercy, and is one source of that

sweet calm which is often felt by the watcher in

the sick-room, even when the duties there are of a.

hard and terrible kind.

Somethi of that benign result was felt by J a-
net during or tendsnce in her husband’s chem;
her. When the first heart-piercing hours were over, ‘
when her horror at his delirium was no 1
fresh, she began to be conscious ‘of herrelief from
the burden of decision as to her future course
The question that agitated her about ~ returning to"
her husband had been solved in a moment; and
this illness, after all, might be the herald of anoth~.

er blessing, just as that dreadful midnight when ; »

she stood an outcast in. cold and darkness I: been
followed by the dawn of a new hope. I r w .
would get better; this illness mightaltarlfimi r'h‘e,
would be a long time,feeble, needing help, walkiu '
with a crutch, perha She would wait’onhim 'wi ' 7,
such tenderness, su all-forgiving love, that the

old harshness and cruelty must melt away forever ’ ‘
under the heartsunshine she would pour around"'__ "
t, and -

him. Her bosom heaved at the the _
delicious tears fell. Janet’s was a nature “which I-
hatred and revenge could find no place; this long.
bitter years drew half their bitterness froidthe

ever-livingremembrance of the too short years of 
love that went before; and the thong:   ,.
husband would never put her hand to  N”
and recall the days when they sat On  k .
gether, and he laid scarlet poppies

  

hair, and calledher his gipsy queen, ,  

send a tide of lovi
and stony space they

oblivion over  

be with‘her gens, wouldlift up her/soul  -

ly for help; Mr. Tryan, she knew, would  ,~»

her. If she felt herself failing, she would  

it to him at once; if her feet beganto nightmare -

was that stay for her to cling to. Oh, abomon v

never bedrawn back into that cold  or 

sin and despair again. She had feltktho , ,
sun, she had tasted the sweet pure airot 
penitence and submission. ,  - ‘
These were the thoughts  {t y ,
net’s mind as she hovered about her,

 

   
 
  

  
 

Tryan when he called to see her. Itwas    .
that they were strengtheningber in her If strng; 
glee—they shed sue a glow of '«Menilimiesm 
over her face as she spoke of them, that Mr. Tryan ’
could not bear to throw on them the chill of pro. .
monitory doubts,though a previous mversstion .
he had had with Mr.  "had convinced him a
that there was not the faintest probability of I
Dempster’s,reeovery. ,. Boer Janet did notka

the significance of the changing sym toms; and _

when, after. thelapse' of a week, the, 81mm be; I _
gal to lose some of 1125 Violence, and, to be inter;  ‘_

rupted by longer'and longer intervals of stupor, she

tried to think that these might be stepson  ,

to recovery, and she shrunk from questioning *3

r. ,
Pilgrim lest he should confirm the fears that'bfin 

to get predominance in her mind. But  fire
man days were past, he thought it. ' ht motto all '
low or to blind herself any longer.   flay-«it
was just aboutnoon, whenbad news always seems“

most sickening-she led her fromher husdand‘su '

 

chamber into-the opposite drawing-room,  ‘

   

Within the . ,

ve traversed cinch   
Divine love that had already shone upon her would ,1;

 

and these were the, hopes she somerset??? : _

 

 

 

 

 

JAW‘S Repairman:

 

w

   sitting, and said to her, in that
low tonne! sympathetic 1' which sometimes
gaveashddenairof gentleness to this rough

man :

“My dear M‘Dempster, it is right‘in these
cases, you know, to be prepared for the worst. I
think shall be saving you pain by preventing you
from entertaining any false hopes, and Mr. Demp-
ster’s state is now such that I fear we must con-
sider recovery impossible. The affection of the
brain might not have been hopeless, but, you see,
there is a terrible complication; and, I am grieved
to say, the broken limb is mortifying.”

J anet- listened with a sinkin heart. That fu-
ture of love andforgiveness wo‘gld never come,then ;
he was out of her sight forever where her
pity ecu d never reach him. She turned cold, and
trembled. ‘ J

.“ But do you think he will die,” she said, “ with-
out ever coming to himself? without ever knowing
me ?” , '

‘ “ One cannot say that with certainty. It is not
impossible that the cerebral oppression may sub~
side,“an‘d that he may become conscious. If there
is anythino' you would wish to be said or done in
that case, it would be well to be prepared. I'should
think,” Mr. Pilgrim continued, turning to Mrs.
Raynor, “ Mr. Dempster’s affairs are likely to be in
orderwhis will is ”—

j“ Oh, ‘I wouldn’t have him troubled about those
things,” interrupted Janet; “he has no relations
buthuitedistant ones—mo one but me. I wouldn’t
take up the time with that. I only want to ”-—-——

‘ She was unable to finish; she felt her sobs rising,
and left the room. “ O God 1” she said, inwardly,
“'is not thy love greater than mine ? Have mercy
on him! have mercy on him i” v s

“This happened on Wednesday, ten days after the
fatal accident. By the following Sunday Dempster
was in a state of rapidly increasing prostration;
and when Hr. Pilgrim, who, in turn with his as-
sistanh’h‘ad’sle t in the house from the beginning,
(3de in, about alf past ten, as usual,'he scarcely
believed that the feeny struggling life would last
out till morning. For the last few days he had
béeh administering stimulants to relieve the ex-
hhustiorrwiiich , had succeeded the alterations of
delirium  stupor. This slight office was all that
new remainedt'o be done for the patient; so at
eleven o’clmk  Pilgrim went to bed, having
given Wench: the nurse, and desired her to call
himiliianychsnge took place, or if  Dempster
 presence. * , » ’ i
, "Janet could’not be persuaded to leave the room.“
 was“: yearning and watching for a moment in
When husband’s eyes would rest consciously
when an! hewould know that‘shehad forgiven

: "   he was since that terrible Monday,
n‘cfidyx-‘a fortnight-ago ! He lay motionless, but for
the  breathing that stirred his broad
 as thick muscular neck. His matures were
no longerporple and swollen; they were pale, sunken
 cold persyira‘tion stood in beads on
the  forehead, and on the wasted hands
stretched We on the 'bedclothes. It was
» better to see the hands so than oonvulsivel’y pick-
 the elites they had been a week

alarm on the edge of the bed through the
long hours of candlelight watching the uncon-
scious half-closed eyes, wiping the perspiration
from‘ the brow and checks, and keep her left
hand at the eold,,unanswering right ban that lay
beside "heron the bedclothes. She was almost as
pale as'her dying husband, and‘there were dark
'  under. her eyes, for this was the third night
smooths hadtaken off her clothes put the eager
“mi " of her dark eyes, an t e acute sen-
‘31 Way in every line about her mouth,
made a strange contrast with the blank unconscious.
ness and emaciated animalism of the face she was
watching. r" . ~ - w ’.
There wasvpmfund stillness in the house. She
heard no sound, but her husband’s breathing and
the ticking of the watch on the mantle-piece. The
candle, placed high up, shed a soft light down on
the) one object she cared to see. There was a smell
of brandy in'the room; it was given to her husband
from'time‘ to‘time; but this smell, which at first

V ~' , has museum her a faint, shuddering sensation,

washmv Morning indiflerent to her; she did not

self m feel either temptations or accusations. She
only felt that the husband of her youth was dyhig;
far, far out of .her reach, as if she were standing
helpless on the shore while he was sinking in the
black stormcwaves; she only yearned for one mo
ment in which she might satisfy the deep, forgiving
pity of her soul by one look of love, one word of
tenderness. r 1'

Her sensations and thoughts were so persistent
that she could not measure the hours, and it was a
surprise to her when the nurse put out the candle
and let in the faint morning light. Mrs. Raynor,
anxious about Janet, was already up, and now
brought in some fresh coffee for her; and Mr.
Pilgrim, having awaked, had hurried on his
clothes and was coming in to see how Dempster
was.

This change from candle-light to morning, this
recommencemcnt of the same round”‘of things that
had ha pened yesterday, was a discouragement
rather t an a relief to Janet. She was more con-
scious of her chill weariness; the new light throvm
on her husband’s face seemed to reveal the still
work that deathbed been doing through the night;
ic felt her last lingering hope that he would ever

ow her again forsake her.

But now, Mr. Pilgrim, having felt the pulse, was
putting some brandy in a teaspoon between Demp-
ster’s lips; the brandy went down and his breath-
ing became freer. Janet noticed the change, and
her heart beat faster as she leaned forward to

passing away of a shadow, was visible in his face,
and he opened his eyes full on Janet.

It was almost like meeting him again on the
resurrection morning, after the night of the grave.

“Robert, do you know me ‘9”

He kept his eyes fixed on her, and there was a
faintly perceptible motion of the lips, as if be
wanted to speak.

But the- moment of speech was forever gone——
the moment for asking pardon of her, if he wanted
to ask it. Could he read the full forgiveness that
was written in her eyes? She never knew; for,
as she was bending to kiss him, the thick veil of
death fell between them, and her lips touched a
corpse. . " ‘ ‘

Q cmrna m; "

THE faces looked very hard and unmoved that
surrounded Dcmpstcr’s grave, while old Mr. Crewe
read the burial-service in "his low, broken voice.
The pull-bearers were such men as Mr. Pittman,
Mr. Lowme, and Mr. Budd—men whom Dempster
had called his friends while he was in life; and
worldly faces never look so worldly as at a funeral.
They have the effect of granting incongruity as
theisound of a coarse voice breaking the: solemn
silence of night. ' l ' '

The one face that had sorrow in it was covered
by a thick crepe veil, and the sorrow was sup-
pressedcnd silent; No one knew how deep it was;
for thethoughtin most of her negated '
was, that Hrs. vDempster could ha y' have had
better fortune thanto lose a bad husband who had
lefther the compensation of a good income. They
found it dificult to conceive that her husband’s
death could be felt by her otherwise than as a
deliverance. The person whowas mostthbroughly
convinced that Janet’s grief was deep and real
was Mr. Pilgrim, who in general was not at all
weakly given to a belief in  feeling.

“That woman has a tender heart,” he was fre.
quently heard to observe in his morning rounds
about this time. “I used to think there was a
great deal of palaver in her, but you may depend
upon it there’s no pretence about her. If he’d
been the kindest husband in the world she
couldn’t have felt more. There’s a great deal of
good in Mrs. Dempster—a great deal of good.”

“I always said so,” was Mrs. Lowme’s reply,
when he made the observation to her ;' “she was
always so very full of pretty. attentions ,to me
when I was. ill. But they tell me now she’s
turned Tryanite; if that’s it, we sha’vn’t agree
again. It’s very inconsistent in her, I think,

turning round in that way, after being the foremost ,

to laugh at the Tryanite cant, and especially in a
woman of herhabits; she should cure herself of
them before she pretends to be over-roll " us.”

 

even perceive it; she was” too unconscious of hen

" “Well, I think she means  cure srself, do

 

can know,” said Mr. 

watph him. Suddenly a slight movement, like the

. face, and not be touched withfralh.

minds emphatic approval of the Whites

 

, ,
toward Janet‘wasyastnow quite shore ma-
perm point at which he could his femi-
nine patients with a. little judieions‘ distraction.
“ I feel sure she has not taken any museums all
through her husband’s illness; and she has been
constantly in the way of them. I can see she
sometimes sufiers a good deal of depression for
want of them—it shows all the more resolution in
her. Those cures are rare; but I’ve known them ’
happen sometimes with people of strong will.”

Mrs. Lowme took an opportunity of retailing
Mr. Pilgrim’s conversation to Mrs. Phipps, who,
as a victim of Pratt and plethora, could rarely
enjoy that pleasure at first-hand. Mrs. Phipps
was a woman of decided opinions, though of
wheezy utterance. ,

“For my part,” she‘rema'rked, “ I’m glad to hear
there’s any likelihood of improvement in Mrs. Demp-
ster; but I think the way things have turned out»
seems to show that“ she was more to blame than
people thought she was; else, why should she. feel
so much about her husband? And Dempster, I
understand, has left his wife nearly all his property
to do as she likes with; that isn’t behaving like
such a very bad husband. I don’t believe Mrs.
Dempster can have had so much provocation as
they pretended. I’ve known husbands who’ve laid
plans for tormenting their wives when thev’re
under ground—tying up their money, and hinder—
ing them from marryin again. Not that I should
ever wish to marry again; I think one husband in
one’s life is enough, in all conscience "—here she

‘ threw a fierce glance at the amiable Mr. Phipps,

who was innocently delighting himself with the
facetia in the Rothcrby Guardian, and thinking
the editor must be a droll fellow-a“ but it’sag.
gravating to be tied up in that way. 'Whv,
they say Mrs. Dempster will have as geod as six "
hundred a year at least. A fine thing for her, that
was a poor girl without a far-thing to her fortune.
It’s well if she‘doesn’t make ducks and drakes of
it somehow.” ". ‘ '
Mrs. Phipps’s view of Janet, however, was far
from being the prevalent one in Milby. Even
neighbors who had no strong personal interest in
her  hardly a» fie. noble- " woman in
her widow’sdresc, with raced, swedtgravhy in her
admirfllo‘n for
her, and not feel, at least vaguely,.that'lhe had
entered on a new life, in which it was a sort of
desecration to allude to the painful past. And the
old friends who had a real re earlier, but
whose oordiality had been rope led or chilled of
late years, now come round her with. hearty demon-
strations of affection Mr. Jerome fish. that «his
happiness had asubstantial addition, now he could
once more call on that “nice little  Hrs.
Dempster,” and think of her with‘instead
of sorrow. The Pratts lost no  to
the footing of old-established  Janet

and her; mother; and Misc Pratt Mimosa
on her, on all suitable. oomiom, indelti a very
of

mind she understood lire. Dempatcr to be‘exhibit.
ing. The Miss Linnets were eager to mesh Mr.
Tryan’s wishes by greeting Janet as one who was
likely to be a sister in religious feeling and good
worksrand MmLinnetwasso ysurpr'med
by the fact'that Dempster had it his wife the

money ‘.‘ in that handsome way, to do what she

liked with it,” that she even included Dempster

himself, and his villainous discovery of tired“:

in. her title to Pye’s Croft, in her magnhnimoue
oblivionof past offences. She and  Jerome

agreed overs friendly cup of too that there

were “a many husbands as was fine-spoken

an" all that, an’ yet all the while kep’ a will

locked up from you as tied you 1113,an tight as

anything. I assure you,” Mrs. Jerome continued,

dropping her voice in a tial manner,

“ I know no more to-this day about Mr. Jerome’s

will nor" the child as is unborn. I’ve no fears

about a income—I’m well aware Mr. Jerome ’ud.
niver leave me. stret for that; but I should like to

hev a thousand or We at my own disposal ; it makes

a widow a deal mere looked on.”

Perhaps this ground of respect to widows hi hi

not be entirely without its influence on the H" by

mind, and might do something towards conciliato'
lug those more aristocratic acquain of Jg.

net’s, who would otherwise have been inclined to

 

 

 

 

 

 

JANET‘S mummion , a?
take the severest view off-her apostasy towards tor—t I’m to team you. However, Stewaiked  ma 

Evmgehem f ,  savory ugly in per--
sons Tet ms: wow feelshthey are will
niteaiibefiyfl. hm f rasml’i W are“ P901390

game may natural :7 indulge in a few delin-
quencies. f‘They’ve got the money for it,”
as the girl; said of her mistress who had
made herself ill with pickled salmon. How-
ever it may have been, there was not an ac-
 of Janet’s in Milby that did not
otter hercivilities in the early days of her widow-
hood. Even the severe Mrs. Phipps wasnot an
exception; for Heaven knows what would become
of our sociality if we never visited people we speak
ill‘ of; we should live, like Egyptian hermits, in
crowded solitude.

Perhaps the attentions most grateful to Janet
were those of her old frieners. Crewe, whose at-
tachment to her favorite proved quite too strong
for any resentment she might be supposed to feel
on the score of Mr. Tryan. The little deaf old lady
couldn’t do without her accustomed visitor, whom
shehad seen grow up from child to woman, always

so willin to chat with her and tell her all the news, .

though e was deaf; while other people thought
it tiresome to shout in her ear, andirritated her by
recommending ear-trumpets of. various construc-
tion. ' ’v a ‘

All this friendliness was very precious to Janet.
She was conscious of the aid it gave her in the
self~conduest which was the bless'uig she prayed
for with every fresh morning: The chief strength
of her nature lay in her afiection, which celered
all the rest of her mind; itgave' a personal sistcr~
ly tendernessto her acts of: benevolence; it made
her eiingwith tenacity to every object that had
once stirred her kindly emotions. Alas! it was
unsatisfied, wounded affection that had made 4 her
troubles»ng than sheoould bear. And now
there was no checkrto the full flow of that pleate- r
one current in-hernature—no gnawing, no'seorct
a. mover ' gten‘or-é-n‘e inward shame.
Friendly faces be on her; she felt thatffa‘iend»
ly; hearts wereapproving her and wishing her well,
and that mild sunshine oi good-will fell beneficient-
lyonher new hopes efiorts, as the clear, shin-
ing utter rain .falls on the tenderleaf-buds of spring,
and wins them from promise to fulfilment.

 she needed these secondary helps, for her
wrestling with. herpast self was not always easy.
This. strong emotions from which the life of a
human-being'reoeiues a new bias win their vic-
toryms  sea/wins his; though their advance
mg! jetsam they will oiten, after 8 ‘
wmafiznnrda‘tml, seem tor-eon back so farasto

' loss that ground they had made. ‘ Janet showed

therstrongbent of hex-will by .taking‘every out
ward  aginst the occurr‘ce of a temp-
mm. » Her mother was“ now her constant com.
patina, having shut up her little dwelling and come

to reside in * Street; and Janet gave all
durations keys into her keeping. an her to
loekehem any in some secret place. I ver

the too well—known depression and craving threat.

cited her, she would seek a refuge in what had al- 3

weyibeenhcr purest enjoyment-4n Visiting one

_ of  , W adapters, in carrying some door! or

comfort to a sick- in cheering with has smile
some ofrthotmiliar dwellings up the dingy back-
lanes. Rn the grsatsourcc of courage, the great
help taper-severance, was the sense that she holds.
friend and teacher: in Mr. Tryau. She could con-
fem her difficulties to him; she knew he prayed
for. her; she had always before her the prospect of
soon seeing and hearing words of admonition
and comfort, that came to her charged with a di-
vine poWer such as she had never found in human
words before. .

So the time passed, till it was far on in May,
nearly a month after her husband’s death, when,
as~she., and her mother were seated peacefully at
breakfast in the dining-mm, looking through the
open window at the old-fashioned garden, where
the glues-plot was now whitened With applsblos.
some, alcttcr was brought in for Mrs. Raynor. _

. “Why, «there’s the Thurston post-mark on it,”
she said. “It must, be about your aunt Anna.
Ah, so it is, poor thing! she’s been taken worse
thislast do. or. two, and has asked-ethos: to send
for me. , dropsy is carrying her 03 at last, I
dare say. /‘ Poor thing! it will be a happy release.
Imust go, my deem-she’s your father’s " last sis-

 

perhaps Ishall not have to stay more than a night
or two.” - 

Janet looked distressed as she said, “Yes, you
must go, mother. But I don’t know what I shall
do without you. I think I shall run in to Mrs.
Pettiler, and . ask her to come and stay with me
while you‘re away. I’m sure she will.”

At twelve o’clOck, J anet, having seen her moth-
er in the coach that was to carry her to Thurston,
called, on her way .back, at- Mrs. Pettifer’s, but
found, to her great disappointment, that her old
friend was gone out for the day. So she wrote on
a leaf of her pocket-book an urgent request that
Mrs. Pettifer would come and stay with her while
her mother was away; and, desiring the servant»
girl to give it to her mistress as soonras she came
home, walked to the Vicarage to sit with, Mrs.
Crewe, thinking to relieve in this way the feeling
of dcsolateness and undefined fear that was taking
possession of her on being left alone for the first
time since that great crisis in her life. And Mrs.
Crewe, too, was not atrhome. I .
Janet, with a sense of discouragement for
which she rebuked herself as childish, walked
sadly home again; and whenshe entered the va-
cant dining-room she ’could not help bursting into
tears. It is such vague, undefinable states of Sus-
ceptibility as this—states» of ex‘citement or depres-
sion, half- mental,‘ half pliysical—wthat determine
many a tragedy inwomen’s lives. Janet could
Scarcer eat anything at. her solitary dinner; she
tried to fix her attention on a book in vain; she
walked about the garden, and felt the very sun-
shine melancholy. .

Between four andvfive o’clock old Mr. Pittman
called, and joined her, in the garden, where she had
been sitting for some time under one of the great
apple-trees, thinking how Robert, in his best moods,
used to take little mamsey to look at the oil-cum.
bars; or to see the Aldemey cow with its calf in the ‘
paddock- The tears and echo had come again at
these thoughts; . and when Mr. Pittman approached
her she was dealing languid and>exhausted But
the old gentleman’s sight and sensibility- were
obtuse, and,'to Janet’s satisfaction, he showed no
consciousness that. she was in grief.

“I have a taskto impose upon you, Mrs. Damp»
ster,” he said, with a certain toothless pomposity
habitual tohim; “ I want you to look over those
letters again in Dempster’s bureau, and see if you
can find one from. Poole about the mortgagee!)
those houses at Dingley. ‘It will be worth twenty

‘ pounds, if you can find it; and I don’t know where

it can be, if it isn’t among those letters hi the
bureau. I’ve lookodveverywhcre at the ofice for
it. I’m going home now, but I’ll call agah tm.
morrow, if you’ll be good enough to look in the
meantime.” » v r . -

Janet said she would look directly, and turned
with Mr. Pittman into the house. But the search
would take her some time, so he. bade her good-
bye, and she went at» once to a bureau which stood

in a' small back room, where Dempster used some-

times to write letters and receive people who came
on business out. of emote-hours. She had looked
through A the contents of the bureau more than
once; butto-day, on removing the last bundle of
letters from one of the compartments, she saw
what she had never seen before, asmall nick inthe
wood, made in the shape of athumb nail, evidently

intended as a means of pushing. aside the movable

back of the compartment.’ In her examination
hitherto she had not found such a letter as Mr.
Pittman had described-perhaps there might be
more letters behind this slide. She pushed it back
at once and saw—no letters, but a small spirit-do-
canter, half full of pale brandy, Dempster’s habit-
ual drink.

An impetuous desire shook J‘anet through all her
members; it seemed to master her with the inevi-
table force of strong fumes that flood our senses
before we are aware. Her hand was on the do
center ; pale and excited, she was lifting it out of
its niche, when, with .a start and a shudder, she
dashed it to the ground, and the room was filled
with the odorof‘the spirit. Without staying to
shut up the-bureau, she rushed out of the room,
snatchedup barbecues  mantle which lay in
the dining-room,~ami hurried, out of the house. '

Whore showidshe go? in; what piece would

andmedehernwayacrossthegramtoatpot She

long, but she preferred it, because it  less

 

this demon that had reenter-ed .her' be Scared

.2 v. h it

 

., ‘n
‘ “ Ufa , ‘ '

 

 ofmwm'ehufifewssmit .
the gate or the churchyard;   i

knewmaspot where-the turfhed been stifled not
long before, wheres. tomb was to be erected soon.
It was very near the church wall, on the side which
now lay in deep shadow, quite shut out from the
rays of the western sun by a projecting buttress.

Janet sat down on the ground. It was a sombre
spot. A thick hedge, aurmounted by absences,
was in front of her; a projecting buttress on each
side. But she wanted to shut out even these ob
jects. Her thick crape veil was down; but she
closed her eyes behind it, and  her“ hands
upon them. She wanted to summon up the vision
of the past; she wanted to lash the demon out of
her soul with the stinging memories of thebyagoue
misery; she wanted to renew the old horror and
the old anguish, that she might throw herself with
the more desperate clinging energy at the foot of
the cross, where the Divine Suil‘erer Would impart
divine strength. She tried to recall these first bit-
ter moments of shame, which were like the shud— 
dering discdvcry of the leper that the dire taint is ‘
upon him; the deeper and deeper lapse; the on? i
coming of settled despair; the awful moments by
the bedside of 'her‘self-maddened husband. And
then she tried to live through, with a remembrance
made more vivid by that contrast, the blessed hours
of hope and joy and peace that had ceme to her of
late, since her whole soul ha been bent towards
the attainment of purity and heliness. W ‘

But now, when the'paroxysin of temptation was
past, dread and despondency began to thrust them-
selves, like cold, heavy mists, betweenher and; the
heaven to which she wanted to look forelight and
guidance. The temptation would some again—~-

 

that rush of desire might overmastcr her the next.

time—woke would slip back again“ into that'deepj V 
slimy pic from which she had  rescued, 
and {there might be no deliverance, for her more. ‘ i
Her prayers did not help her,’for fear predominated

over trust; she had no confidence that the aid she _ .
sought would be given; the idea of her future‘fall ' 

had grasped her mind too strongly. Alcoa‘iuthis a

way, she was powerless. If she could seeMr.‘ Try— 
an, if she could confess all to him, she might gether f
11:23:: again. Shemuct  him; she must go to ,,L

Janet rose from, the  Windy
with aquick, resolved" p. so  
there a 1 while, and the  male. 5.
It was-late or her to walk  to 
Mr. Tryan’s, where she had never called are; 
but there was no other way of seeing that
evening, and she could not 'hcsima- mt'fi.‘ 2 7&3
walked towards a foot-path  as  -‘
which Would take her to Paddifon‘l‘  oblig.
ing her to go through the town. The my WW

 

probdbilitybf her meeting 81ch  »  “
shrunkfromhavingtospeaktoanycue. -. f = ' .

The evening red had nearly faded 7%? the tires ‘
Janet knocked at Mrs.    ,
woman looked surprised to see heriat   , I; 
but Janet‘s mom-oi weeds and the  g 
tion of her face quick y brought the  »
that some urgent trouble had sent  ‘ a ,

“ Mr. Tryan’s justeomein,” should. flifyoo’il I
step intothe parlor, I’ll . up and ‘tellihim you’re
here. He seemed very tiredness! poofl .r”. 

At another time, J snot would have '4 «fistress
at the idea that she was disturbing Ir; Try-n when
he required rest; but now‘her need was too V 
for that; she could feel nothing but a sense of _ i,
coming relief, when she heard his step on thessain
and saw him enter the mom. I »

He went towards her with a look of anxiety, and. > “ .
said, “ I fear something is the matter. I fear ‘you
are in trouble.” * ; r~

Then poorJanet poured forth her sad tale of
temptation and despondeucy; and even whiieaha ‘
was confessing she felt half her burden‘remwed..
The act of confiding in human sympathy, the com
sciousuc‘ss that a fellow-being'was listening to her

 

 

 



. with patient pity, prepared her soul for that " ‘

fear by which faith ’ps ‘ the idea of fjtho 
sympathy. When  spoke with of con-
solatmn and encouragement, shecould  believe:
the message of mercy; the watecfloeds 
threatened to overwhelm her,- rolled back 

 

 

 

' mot linger. out at’this late hour. ‘
, thatshe was calmed, he said, “I will walk home

 

 

 

 

 

. Ti'yaii’s '  m a!

 

‘« =“What savoury

 

- $§

Txfiflfl’fll.

 

 

.....,,..,. a...  ...,...,...  ,

still life  mow unreservitshssrso-csvmdsrace
 ‘ fare herd  . all-sable is my. alone;

  

burdensome, _ . “crowns _,  with
rename , tongue'bf flame carries {u ward in
is ’ Q _ ,leapthe'littls flickeringfirct at could

‘i V ’ , . .

hardy-ken slightly itself. 3 V . ., _
: .But finl'l‘ryan, was anxious that Janet should
When he saw

With you now; we can talk on the way.” But
 s  was now sufliciently at liberty for her
"tovnotice the signs ofvfeverish weariness in his ap-
pearance, and she would not hear of causing him
any fufther fatigue. . .

“No, no,” she said, earnestly, “ you will pain
‘me very much, indeed you will, bygoing out again
rte-night on my account; There is no real reason
“why I should not go alone.” And when he per-
sisted, fearing that for her to be seen out so late
alone ' texcite remark, she said, imploringly,
witha each in her voice. “ What should 1—-
what would others like me to do, if you went from
€38? Why will you not think more of. that, and
take care of yourself?” ,

He had often had that appeal made to him be-
fore, but tonight—from Janet’s lips—it seemed to
have a new force for him, and he gave way. At
ids-agindced, he only did so on condition that she
‘vvlrould lot Mrs. Wagstaff go with her; but Janet
and determined to walk home alone. She pre-
derred solitude; she wished not to have her present
feelings distracted by any conversation.

’ So she went out into the dewy starlight; and
as Mr. Tryan turned away from her he felt a
stronger wish thanever that his fragile life might
last out for him to see Janet’s restoration thor-
oughly established—to see her no longer fleeing,
struggling, cli ‘r up the steep sides. of a preci~

r whence she might be any moment hurled back

me the depths of despair, but walking firmly on
fig: lemund of habit. He énwargfiglesolved
t t p 4 but peremptory uty d ever
take bimfrom Hilbyeg—that he would not cease to
webmaster until life forecok him. ,
Janet  on quiokl till she turned into the
 ; than she slackene her pace a little, en'oy-
2i  We of solitudep'hichafew hours , ore
‘  _ intolerable to her. The Divine Presence,
  seem for ofi, where she hadfinot
to retich it; prayer itself seemedTlfgimrflum
swarms v,  met-1, ,  _
which,  so lately; made he: shudder before , the

L pf the future, was now assume of con- ,

    

, _ .  83191103 been delivered from it?
7  in the extremity of danger?
Zea;  Love was caring for her. She felt
£29 a tile child whose hand is firmly grasped by

.s l

. its hermit, limbs make their wey, over

the  iffgit-‘should stumble,_the father
has? a  . - . , v

 .1 the, dewy starlight remained for-
:  ’s. as one of those baptismal
e , , ,w ,.  nasal. ,.  in the sacred waters
 “j u ._  rises ,rom them with new ener-
g%_ . revocableglonalnss.

.. _ fiesta. Wdhome stormed Mrs- Pause:-

   

{mm  only said, “ I have been to Mr ‘
v to him ;” andthen,re—-
 how she had left the bureau and pe-
pers, shawl; into the back room, where, appar-
ently, doonehad been since she quitted it; for
more i that - is of glass. and thoroom was
miserable thetcmptation Seemed to her at this
mllmii filer-nag for Kitty to come, and pick

uplthfie'; ‘ and rub the floor, while, she
herself? , . the papers and locked up the
bmm . .A _ I _

rnextpmorningmhen seated at breakfast with
'Mrs. Pettifer, J snot said:
,nnbealthy-looking ~place that
is:Wbere_Mr. TI'YEB. lives! I’m sure it must be
very beater him to live there. _ Do you know, all
this morning, since I’ve been awake, I’ve been
 war a litth plan in ray-mind. . I think it
a chanting cine-all the more, because you are
 “Why, what can that‘be?”* N

3 or?“ know that house on the  they

mflrkfifibfimfl It is shut-up new. Eliot is

' , RW’s'hduee; at least, it is mine now, and it

.Ircan

 Wteful odor“. How feeble and :

 on one of the healthiest spots about here,
Now. I’ve  utilise in: my own-mind that if a
dear good woman of my acquaintance, who knows
how toms-kc a homeas comfortable. and cosy as
a bird—nest, were to take up her abode there, and
jhave Mr. Tryan as a ledger, she would bedoing
one of the most useful deeds in all her useful
life.” ' v . t

“You’ve such (a way of wrapping up things in
pretty words. You must speak plainer.”

“In plain words, then, I should like to settle
you at Holly Mount. You would not have to pay
any more rent than where you are, and it would
be twenty times pleasanter for you than living up
that passage where you see nothing but a brick
wall. And then, as it is not far from Paddiford,
I think Mr. Tryan might be persuaded to lodge
with you, instead of in that musty house, among
dead cabbages and smoky cottages. I know you
would like to have him live with you, and you
would be such a mother to him.”

“ To be sure I should like it; it would be the
finest thing in the world for mel But ther’ll be
furniture wanted. My little bit of furniture won’t
fill that house.” .

“ Oh, I can put some in out of this house; it is
too full; and we can buy the rest. They tell me
I’m to have more‘money than I shall know what to
do with”. ,

“I’m, almost afraid,” said Mrs. Pettifer, donbt-
fully, “Mr. Tryan will hardly be persuaded. He’s
been talked to so much about leaving that place;
and he'always said he must stay there—he must
be among the people, and there was no other place
for him in Paddiford. It cuts me to the heart to
see him getting thinnerand thinner, and I’ve no-
ticed him quite short 0’ breath sometimes. Mrs.
Linnet will have it, Mrs. Wagstafi half poisons him
with bad cooking. I don’t, know about that, but
he can’t have many comforts. I expect he’ll break
down all of a sudden some day, and never be able
to preach any more."

“ Well, I shall try my skill with him by-and-by.
I shall be very cunning, and say nothing to him till
all is ready. You and I and mother, when she
comes home, will set to work directly and getthe
house in order, and then welll- get you snugly not
tied init. i shall see, I Mr. Pittman to-day, and I
will tell him What- I mean to do: '1 shall say E wish
to have you fora  , Everybody knows I’m
very fond of that naughty  Mrs. Pettifer; so

.itwill seem the most natural, thing in the World.

And then “hall, by-andmy, point out. to Mr. Try-
an that he will be doing you a service as-well as
himself by taking up his abode with you. I think
revail upon him; fox-last night, when he
was qulto‘bent on coming, out into the night air, I
persuaded him to give it up.” : . , 4
“Well, I onl hope you may, my dear. I don’t
desire anything etterthan todo something towards
prolonging Mr. '1?me 518, for I’VoSad harem;
m.” , _ _

hi. _ 
“Don’t speak of them-rel can’t bear to‘tbink of

them. We will onlythink of getting the house,

ready. We shall be as busy as bees. ~»How we
shall want mother’s clever fingersl; I know the
room up stairs that will just do for Hummus
study. There shall be no seats in it except a very
easy-chair and a very easy sofa, sothat he shall be
obliged to rest himself when he comes home”.

" CHAPTER XXVI.

Tun- was the last terrible'crisis of temptation-
Janet had to pass through. lThe -will of her
neighbors, the helpful sympathy o the friends who
sharedher religious feelings; the occupations sug-
gested to her by Mr. Tryan, concurred with her.
strong spontaneous impulses towards works of love
and mercy to fill up her, days with quiet, social in-
tercourse and. charitable exertion. Besides, her
constitution, naturally healthy and strong, was
every week tending, with the gathering force of
habit, to recover its equipolse, and set her free
from tho“ physical solicitations which the smallest
habitual vice always leavesbchiud'it. The prisoner
feels whereth'e in»: has gelled him long after his
fetters have been 100536. Y  ~ _ ,

There were always neighborly visits tobe paid
and received; and as the months were on, increase-r.
- » ’ familiarity with Janet’s present self an to

Ether unpleasantimpressions that  left by:

v .. or. N w... ; w'4“1a3‘-k

 

meant  7, sanctum memorialize; . slant
which  and, sweetness   wet);
for her wheushowas a girl ; and? Witty, as
everyOne knows, is the most complex .flnd,;8€l~f-.
multiplying of echoes. Even anti-Tryanitepreju-v
dice could not resist-the fact that Janet Dempster
was a changed woman—changed as the dusty,
bruised, and sun-withered plant is changedwhcn
the soft rains of heaven‘have fallen on itnand that
this change was dueto' Mr. Tryan’s influence. , The
last lingering sneers against the Evangelical, curate
began to die out ;’ and though much of the feeling
that had prompted them remained behind, there
was an intimidating consciousness that the expres
sion of such feeling would not be eifective-a-«jokes
of that sort had ceased‘to tickle the Milby mind.
Even Mr. Budd and Mr. Tomlinson, when they saw
Mr. Tryan passing, pale and worn, along the street,
had a secret sense that this man was somehow not
that very natural and comprehensible thing, a hum~
bug—that, in fact, it was impossible to explain
him from the stomach-andpocket point of view.
Twist and stretch their theory as they might, ‘ it
would not fit Mr. Tryan; and so, with remarkable
resemblance as to mental processes which may fre«
quently be observed to exist between plain men
and philoso hers, they concluded that the less they
said about im the better. - ,

Among all Janet’s neighborly pleasures, there
was nothing she liked better than to talus an.
early tea at the White House, and to stroll with
Mr. Jerome round the old-fashioned garden and
orchard. There was endless matter to talk be-
tween her and the good old man, for - Janet had
that genuine delight in human fellowship which
gives an interest to all personal details that come
warm from truthful lips; and, besides, they had
a common interest in good-natured plans for help-
ing their poorer neighbors. , One great object of;
Mr. Jerome’s charities was, as he often. saith. “to
keep industrious men an’ women. off the parish.
i’d rather give ten shillin’ an’ help a- men-to stand a
on his own legs, nor-pay half a. crown tobuy -
aparish cnrtch; it’s the ruination on  if he
once gets to the parish. I've seed many a timejf
you help‘a man wi’ a present; inn calmly way, it:
sweetens  blood—he  it  on your, but
the parish shillin’s turn. r it; fWhQ«'z hirer
thinks ’em enough.” , In illustration of this opmion 
Mr. Jermain had a huge store of details about such V
persons as Jim Hui-dz], the coal-carrier, {its lost .
his hose,”andv Sally Butts,~“as hed‘torsellnher
mangle, though shows as decent a woman as»
need to beg”.to the hearing of which dctailstt .r
seriously  and you would hardlydeslre to
see a prettier picture than the ikinddaced, .white- 
hairedold ma. telling these fragmentswtot his I
simple experience as he walked...withaohouldors =
slightly‘bent, anion . the mosssroees warm
vappleatreos, while anet, luvs-hers. “Monumental:er
dark eyes bright with intermawcnt  .v
side, and )llttle Lizzie, with; her  g at
hangixg down her back, toddlcd  them.
Mrs. Jerome'usuallydeolined these:  strolls,
and often observed, “IIniver seenthelike to Mr.
Jerome when he’s got Dempstcr to talk to; _
it sinnifios‘ nothin’ toahim whether we’ve tea at
four or at five o’clock ° he’d go on till 8" if you’d ~
let-him alone—he’sli oil-his head.” wetter,
Mrs. Jerome, herself could not deny  was
a very prettyaspokeu woman: “Sheran says she -
niver getssueh pikelets as mine nowhere. I know
that very well; other folks buy ’em' at: shaped-
thick, unwheleSOme things, you might as well out
a sponge.” ,. . t
‘ The sight of little Lizzie often stirred in Janet’s
mind a sense of the childlessness which, had made
a fatal blank in her life. Shebad fleetingéthoughts .
that perhaps among her. husband’s distautrelatives
there might be some children whom she could help
to bring up, sortie little girl whom she might adopt ;
and she promised herself one day or. other tohunt
out a second cousin of his—~12 married woman~of
whom he had lost sight may years. a

But at present herhands and heart were too full
for her no carryout that scheme. To her great
disappointment, her project of. settling, Mrs. Pet»
titer. at Rally Mount had been delayed byithc
if very; that; some repairs were necessary. in
or atomake the house habitable, and :it was not

 

 

e “ace, even from minds as rigid as Mrs. P ipps’,

 

till September had set in that » she had the sati5~

 

 


l
i
z
:1

 

 

 

 

.A.

‘ JANET’S ‘REPENTA NGE.

 29

 

 

  
    
 

faction 
.fi .- ‘ .

.ommfiomfort
  ‘ «a a:

   

 

. e be taken save-5 «of his chief rxends into
her confidence, “Mimere warmly wishing
success. to but, plan for inducing him to quit poor
Mrs. Wagetafi’s dingy housé. and dubious cook-
ery. Ilian shouldconsentto some such change
was  more and more a matter of anxis
ety table-"hearers; for though no more decided
symptoms Were yet observable in him than increas-

ing emaciation, a dry, hacking cough, and an 00- '

casional shortness of breath, it Was felt that the
fulfilmentLof Mr. Pratt’s prediction could not long
be deferred, and that this obstinate persistence in
labor and self-disregard must soon be perempt-
orin cut short by a total failure of strength. Any

‘ hopes that the influence of Mr. Tryan‘s father and

sister would prevail on him to change his mode of
life-that they would perhaps come to live with
him, or that his sister at least‘ might come to see

« him, and that the arguments which had failed from

other lips, might be more persuasive from hers—
were now quite dissipated. His father had lately
had an attack of paralysis, and could not Spare his
only daughter’s tendanee. _. On Mr. Tryan’s return
from a visit to his father, Mr. Linnet was very anx-
ious to know whether his sister. had not urged him
to try a change of air. From his answers she
gathered that Miss Tryan wished him to give up
his curacy and ’travel, or at least go to the south
Devonshire coast. »

“And why will you not do so?” Miss Linnet
said; “you might come back to us well and strong,
and have many years of usefulness before you.”

“ No,”.he answered, quietly, “I think people at—
tach more importance to such measures than is
warranted. I don’t see any end that is to be
 by going to die at, ice, instead of. dying
anion
leave limb—qt least, I will not leave it voluntar.
ill .’ . 7 , ,

 though he remained immovable on this point,
he had been compelled to give up his afternoon

, service on the Sunday, and to accept Mr. Perry’s of-

fer of aid in the evening service, as well as to our-

tail his weekgday. labors; and he had even written

to Mr. Prendergast to request that he would ap-
point another eurate to the Paddiford district, on
the understanding that the new curate should re-

‘ ceive‘ the salary, but that Mr. Tryan should oo-op-

The hope-

erate with him as long as he was able.

» fullness which is an almost constant attendant on

cause at them! _
Jets.“ 

consumption haan the cfiect of deceiving him as
to thenstnro of his malady, or of making him look
forward to ultimate recov, , . He believed him-
self to balconsumptive, and ' had not yetfelt-any

.desiretoescape the earl death which hehadfor

some time contempla as probable. Even dis-
eased hopes will take their direction from the
strong habitual bias of the mind, and to‘Mr. Tryan
death had for years seemed nothing else thanjhe
laying down of a burden, under whichhe some-
times felt himself fainting. He was only 'ne
about his powers of work thhefiattered himself
that what he was unable to do one week he should

be equal to the next, and he would not admit that ’

in desisting from any part of his labor he was re-
nounci'ng it permanently. He had lately delighted
Min Jerome by accepting his longvproflered loan of
the “ little chacenut hoss ;” and he found so much
benefit from substimting constant riding exercise
for walking, that he began to think heshould soon
be able to resume some of the .work he had
dropped.

That Was a happy afternoon for Janet, when, af-
ter exerting horse f busrly for a week for her moth-

. ' or and Mrs. Pettifer, she saw Holly Mount looking

orderly and comfortable from attic to cellar. It
was an old red-brick house, with two
front, and two clipped holly-trees fl ing the
'garden.gate; asimple, homelyélooklngplace, that
' quiet people might easily get fond of; and new it
was secured, and polished, and carpeted, and tur-

nished so as to look , really snug within. When

there Was nothing more to bedono, Janet 
herself with Wplutl in». 'i‘ryun’a My. first
 in the  , and than lyingfor a
memoir 

, from the” Mail-
, _  gonna:

** i

_ would

Q

 n kw j‘

one’s friends and one’s work. I cannot '

stem” and, turning
.holdin his horse by-the bridle. .n seemed very

bles in ‘

, that she might  a healer .

 

“Now, mother,” she said, iwhen she had-finished
her survey, “you have done your work as well as
any fairy mother or "other that ever turned a
pumpkin into some and horses. You stay and
have tea cosin with Mrs. Pettifer while I-go to
Mrs. Linnet’s. I want to tell Mary and Rebecca
the ' and news, that I’ve got the exciseman to prom-
ise t at he will take Mrs. Wagstaff’s lodgings when
Mail‘ryan» leaves. They’ll be so pleased to hear
it, because they thought he would'make her pov-
erty an objection to, his leaving her.”

“But, my dear child,” said Mrs. Raynor, whose
face, always calm, was now. a happy one, “have a
cup of tea with us first. You’ll perhaps miss Mrs.
Linnet’s tea-time."

“ No, I feel too excited to take tea yet. I’m like
a child with a new baby~house. Walking in the
air will do me good.” 1

So she set out. .Holly Mount was about a mile
from that outskirt of Paddiford Common where
Mrs. Linnet’s house stood nestled among its labor-
nums, lilacs, and syringes. Janet’s way thither lay
for a little while along the high-road, and then led
her into a deep-rutted lane, which wound through
a flat tract of meadow and pasture, while in front
lay smoky Paddiford, and away to the left the
mother-town of Milby. There was no line of sil-
very willows marking the course' of a stream—no
group of Scotch firs with their trunks reddening in
the level sunbeams—nothing to break the flower
less monotony of grass and hedge-row but an oc-
casional oak or elm, and a few cows sprinkled here
and there. A very commonplace scene, indeed.-
But what scene was ever commonplace in the dc-
sounding sunlight, when color has awakened from
its noonday sleep, and the long shadows awe us
like a disclosed presence? Above all, what scene
is commonplace to the eye that is filled with serene
gladness, and brightens all things with its own

Joy ? »

And Janet. just now was very happy. As she-
walked along the rough lane with a buoyant
step,- shelf. smile of innocent, kindlytriumph
played shunt her mouth. She was delighting
beforehand in the anticipated success of. her per-
suasive power, and for the time her painful anx-
iety about Mr. Tryan‘s health was, thrown into
abeyance. But she had not gone far along the
lane before she heard the sound of a horse ad-
vancing at a walking pace behind her. Without
looking back, she turned aside to make way for it

between the remand did not notice that for a
moment it had stopped, and then come on with a

uickened pm. In less than a minute
a wellJmown voice say, “Mrs. Demp-
,saw Mr. Tryaaolose tuber,

slightly
she h

nature. to her that he should be there. Her mind
was so full of his presence at that moment, that
the actual sight of him was only like amore vivid
thought, and she behaved—as we are apt to do
when feeling obliges us to be genuiueu-with a total
forgetfulnoss of polite forms. She only looked at
him with a slight deepening of the smile that ,was
already on her face. He said gently, “Take my
arm ;-” and they walked one. little way in silence.

It was, he who broke it. I “ You are going to
Paddiford, ,I suppose ‘i”

The question recalled Janet to the consciousness
that this was an unexpected Opportunity for begin-
ning her work of persuasion, and that she was
stupidly neglecting it. ' ,

“ Yes," she said, “I was going to Mrs. Linnet’s.
I knew Miss Linnett Would like to. hear that, our
friend Mrs. Pettifer is quite settled now in her new
house. She is as food of Pettifer as I ans—almost;
I won’t admit that anyone loves her quite as well,
for no one else has such good reason as I have.
But now'the dear woman wants a ledger, for you
know she can’t afiord to live in so large a house

by herself. But I knew when I persuaded her to

go there that she would be sure to get onewhe’s

such a comfortable creature to live with; and I

didn’t like her to spend all the rest of her days -

that dull passage, being at. mom’s book and 1

rhawmteetomasmasm" ,
“Yes” some . “inaliean
 Idtm’tm . atyour strong W for

Juan, m    to
mundane  to let,

ready  erekm: and I km

who would!»  good 'Wne.
that machining wen asst Hrs. straw, Who-
would i go when with her. lie world have some»
uncomertable lodgings, which ‘wother  is.
already coveting and would take 3 and
he would go to “breathe pure air at "Kelly Mount,
and gladden Hrs. "Pettifer’s heart by letting her
wait on him; and comfort all his friends, who are-
quite miserable about him.” ‘ ' ~
Mr. Tryan saw it all in a moment—he saw the. .
it had all been done for his sake. He could not;
be sorry; he could not say no;  mold not resist.
the sense that life had a new swootneso for him,
and that he should like it to be  a little,
only a little, for the sake of feeling a: ‘ ’ se-
curity about Janet. When she had finished speak--
ing, she looked at him with a doubtful, inquiring?
glance. He was not looking at her; his eyes were

Immense-who thinks as-yellbi‘her.flgdido,1in&

of entreaty: .

“ You will go and live with her? . I know you
will. You will come back with me now and 
the house?" . a

He looked at her then, and smiled. There- is
an unspeakable blending of sadness and sweet»
ness i the face sharpened and poled by slow eon-
sum on. 'That smile of Mr. Tryan's W
poor Janet’s heart ~: she felt in it at once the as-
surance of greatful affection and the prophecy . of
coming death. Her tears rdée; they turned round

 

without speaking, and went back again along, the
lane. ‘ ~* '
7 CHAPTER  _
Inlessthanaweek MnTryau» letdodat
Holly Mount, and there was not ‘ one his many

attached hearers who did not sincerely  at
the event.

The autumn that year was b' hi: and warm,
and at the beginning of October r. Walsh, the
new curate, came. Themild weather, the relax»
tion from excessive work, and, perm another
benignant influence, had for a few wag, a visibly
favorable effect on Mr. Tryan At least he 
to feel new hopes, which sometimes took the guise
of, new stre h. He thonght of the moses in
which consumptive patients remain nearly station-
'ary for years, without entering so as tenants their
Elie burdensome tgvthexnselh visa or tomathm a 

ebegantost wait a nging“ it  t
be so with him. e struggled with "it,  " ’
feltitto be an indication that  It _
was beginning to have too strong a hold  him,
and he earnestly for more ' '

Divine Presence as the chief, u He  (fun-
scious that he did not wish for pselmged’hfe
solely that he might, reclaim the wanderer-a “and
sustain the feeple: he was ‘ conscious of a new
yearning for those pure human joys which he lied
voluntarily and determinedly banished from his life
-—for a draught of that deep affection om vhtch
he had beencut off by adark chasm 
For now that afiection was within  lite
,saw it there, like a palm shadowed  the
desert; he could not desire to die in sight of it.
And so the autumn rolled gently by,  ‘icalm
decay.” Until November, Mr. Twancontinued to
preach, occasionally, to ride about  visiting his
flock, and tolook in at his'schools;  hisgrow-
ing satisfaction‘in Ir. Walsh as his successor
savedhimfrom tooeageroxsrtionand from wor-
ryinganxieties. Jaeetwaswithhimagme deal
now, for she saw that he‘llked her forced to 
in the lengthening evenings and it became the
rule for her and her mother to have tea at Holly
Mount, where, with Mrs. Pettifer, and We;
another friend or_two, they brought Mr. Tryan the
unaccustomed enioyment of companionship?!” his
own fireside. . i . 1; -
Janet did not share his new as she was
not only lathe habit of hearing it Mews.
ion tint Kr. Tryan could hardlystmd 
this.  “lam  i  ‘
3' ~ » , o by, w it , mam,
hehad oonsentedtomil in. alt 
ordoslnhh infill it. .  
by the  but snot  

 

an toltnouhdllon man was,

cast downward: but the expressions of his face ‘
encouraged her, and she said, in shelf-playful tone

pra ‘if‘aub— _
mksiomand'firamoreabsormd luthe’i

W 7'; a: i, 

 

 

 
 

 

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' ’en urea 
 all?“  tube withhim,to bike’s
,  ironithilyoommnnion;
wi himtebaeoMming-tohimiutheselastmoe
_ Wei his life, was so stro in her that it al—

 ime been

most allowed regret Juneth  throughther
greet treacdyof woman’s life. Her keenest per.

ennui emotions had been poured forth in her early
love—her wounded allegation with its yours of an-
guish—her agony of unavailing pity overthet death-
bed seven months ago. , The thought of Mr. Tryan
was associated for her with repose from that. con-
flict of emotiomwith trust , in the unchangeable,
withthe influx of as power to subdue self. To have
been assured oi ~his sympathy, his teaching, his
help, all through her life, would have been to her
like shearer} already begun—~11 deliverance from
fear and danger; but the time was not yet come
{other tube ,oon80lous that the hold he had on
her hesrt‘was any other than that of the heaven-
sent friend Who had come to her like the angel in
prison, 1and loosed her hands, and led her by the
hand till she could look brick on the dreadful doors
- that had once closad her in. , ' v -
fiBeforo November was over Mr. Tryan had ceas-
ed to go; out. A new crisis had come on; the
cough had changed its character, and the worst
symtoms deviolopedthemselves so rapidly that Mr.
,Pratt began to think the end would arrive sooner
than he expected. Janet became a. constant at-
r .tendunton-him now, and no one could feel that she
was performing anything but a sacred oflice.
made Holly Mount her home, and, with her mother
and Mrs. Pettifer to help her, she filled the painful
days and nights with every soothing influence that
7 cure and tenderness could devise. There were ma-
nyvisitors to, the sick-room led thither by venom:
, ting afiectiou; and there could hardly be one who
‘did not retain in after—years a vivid remembrance
I of the scene ther the pale wasted form in the
“collusion (for he set up to the 13st,) of the grey
eyes: sofull of. even yet of inquiring, kindness, as
the thin, almost transparent hand was held out to
give the pressure of welcome; and of the sweet
women, too, whose dark, watchful eyes detect?
lad mei. and who-supplied the want with a
. « .Thers Were others . who would} have. had the
bemused the skill tenu- this Why Mr. Try-
an’s side,  Who would have accepted it as an,
, . honor; but they could not helpgfeeling that God
“heathen ittoJ-anet by a train of events, which
werutoo‘impressive not to shame all jealousies
into-silence; .. v .
‘ Elliot snd‘history which most of us know too
well lasted more than: three months. He was too
teebdusandisufierieg' for-the last. few weeks to see
any View; but he still set up through the day.
, The; strange hallucinations of the  which
bedseemdio take a more decided hold on him
jostget the total crisis, and had made him think he
“rimmgcttiug better. at the very time when
- death m  to hurry  with, more rapid
   wen way and left him calmly
, conscious of the ity. One afternoon, near the
. ended, February, Janet was moving gently about
the 1‘0!)th the fire-lit duskLWsing spine-things
that would he wanted in the night, . here was no.
one elseiu the room, and hiseyes followed  as
Vshc moved with the firm, grace natural toher,

' :ggtyhile‘ the bright fire every, now and then lighted up

orifice, and gave an unusualglowto itsderk

,gfrfbeangy; Even» to follow her in this way With.,.hls_

 '} Gym/ween: exertion that gave a painful tenéion: to
: hi3.g%.%’l§lb who looked like an image .of life
« “Joust,” he said presently, in his faint voice--
he filflays.  herflJanet now. In a, moment
. She Will! cloud to him, bending over him. He
, opened his. he looked up ,at her, and she
placed hers within it. ' , V
“dfiflafii’7hfiifid~ig8mr “you will have a long
.,mhile,tofllvezfim‘I-m gene.” - ,  _. ._
 , .; usual».an woof tear. shot through her. > She
'  be; field himself. macaw she sunk on
 in slain feel. his.  she

I handshake... 330mm”   u .,

guiefizsmsize sorrow. - f
flue alderwhiie-rrgmtitudc 

She ,,

hisfellowunen. v .

nonradioactive:«treasurer;I

 

 j ‘ flleokioc youoin-Yilhlfiiriluilww *1 in ’_ w:      I   «

a.

“qu I when he 
forsake new v~ 1 ‘ = ‘
was not weeping.» She was waiting with trembling
eagerness for anything- else, he might have to
say. ' p

“ Let us kiss each other before we part.”_

She lifted up her face to his, and the full life-
breathing lips met the wasted dying ones in a sa-
cred kiss of promise. ‘ ‘ ‘

———-.
. a

r CHAPTER XXVIII.

Ir soon came—the blessed day of deliverance,
the sad day of bereavement; and in the second
week of March they carried him to the grave. He
was buried as he had desired: there was no hearse,
no mourning-coach; his coffin was home by twelve
of his humble bearers, who relieved esch other by
turns. But he was followed by a long procession
of mourning friends, women as well as men.

Slowly, amidst deep silence, the dark stream
passed along Orchard Street, where: ‘ eighteen
months before the Evangelical curate had been
saluted with booting and hisses. Mr. Jerome and
Mr. Lander were the eldest pail-bearers ; and behind
the coffin, led by Mr. Tryan’s cousin, Walked
Janet, in quiet submissive sorrow. She could not
feel that he was quite gone from'her; the unseen
world lay so very near lier—-—it held all that had
ever stirred the depths of anguish and joy within
her. ' ‘ - 1 L i

It was a; cloudy morning, and had been raining
when they left Holly Mount; but as they Walked,
the sun broke out, and the clouds were rolling
oil in large masses when they entered the church-
yard-and: Mr. Walsh’s voice was heard saying, “I
am the Resurrection and the Life.” The faces
were not hard at this funeral; the burial-service

was not a‘ bellow ,form; Every heart there was

filled with the memory of a man who, through ‘a
self-sacrificing life and in a painful death, had
been sustained by the faith which fills that farm
with breath and substance.» 3 '
When ’Janet left the grave, she did not return

to‘HollyMount; she wont to  home in Or-~

eha‘rd' Street, where her motherrwas waiting to
receive berg Should, all“  “Let us‘
walk round the garden," mother.“ 51113 they
walked round in silence, with their hands clasped.
together, looking at the golden menses. bright
in the spring sunshine. Janet felt a deep still.
ness within. She thirsted for no pleasure; she

'ereVed no worldly good. She saw the years to

come stretch before her like an autumn. after-
noon, filled with resigned memory. Life to her
could never more lime any eagerness;‘it was a

solemn service of gratitude and patient effort. She ‘

walked in the presence of unseen witnesses—~of
the Divinellove that had rescued her, of the human
love that waited for its eternal repose.th it had
seen her endure to the end.

* 4* an as ' u

Janet is living still. Her black hair is gray,
and her stop is no longer buoyant, but the sweet.
ness of her smile remaius,tho love is not ne
from her eyes; and strangers sometimes ask, ho
is that noble-looking elderly woman, that walks
about holding a little boy by the hand? The
little boy is the son of Janet’s. adopted daughter,
and Janet in her old age has children about her
knees, and loving young arms round herneck.

There is asimple gravestone in ,Milby church-
yard, telling that in this spot lie the- remains 9f
Edgar Tryan, ‘ for two years ofiiciating curate of
the Paddiford Chapel 01‘ Ease, in this parish. . It

i! *-

~is an eager memorial, and  you simply that the

man who lies there took  him, faithfully or
unfbithiully, tho- ofiee of guide undyinstructor to

’ But there is ,another. memorial,“ Edgar, Wen,
which bears a. fuller record»; . it is, Janet Pompom.
rescued from new», strengthened: with, Divine
hopes, and now  book:   purity

andehfilpflliiihfirr: “7'59? #3, lQfi'MCh 8 -

memorial   358% ‘  bee whose
heart beat with true” emnpaesion, an
  :;  

I ,  l ,

will not '_ _ '
She could hardlyhtlcr monoxide, though she. 

whosolips, . . _,.__.
5 “.1 «endowments 

 

 the-fol-

lova'ing  Ad 1 his (1 ttrscti text-book

a as re an a re 3,
prepared exgressgfor schools, foniiiies, etc. Each
volume oonteinsi mmpfln‘ted from clear,
open  . ’e collection 0! Dia-
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of 1881—33 tar as new issued mid-secs twentym
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o
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1. American Speaker. 13. School Speaker.

2. Nations) Speaker. 14. ludicrous Speaker.
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5. Elocutionist. . 1?. Wt er.

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8. Stump Speaker. , i 19. Selle-com Speaker.
13. guvenéleESpfager. k .1  ealrer.

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These books are re etc With choice . for the
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Dialogues.
The Dime Dialogues. each volume 100 pages, em~

brace twentyeight books, Viz .

 

 

Dialogues No. One. Dialogues No. Fifteen.
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‘ Dialogues No. Three. Dialogues No. Seventeen.
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Dialogues No. Six. Dialogues No. envy.
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firw

 

 

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evil; on, TEE Wmonn
memm

By Col. Prentiss Ingrahem.
8. Kit . Jr... THE CRACK Snow or
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4. , r dnapper; OR, THE GREAT
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, I. The Pare-Fields; on, HERCULES, THE
mm By A. P. Morris. ‘
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. Death-Notch, THE DESTROYBR; 03,
T3185)!“ LAKE Amen-as; By 011 Coomes.
8.  Headless Horseman. A strange
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10. Vidoeq, THE
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athawa ; OR, NICK anELEs, THE

OnnTnAPm on THE onmwns'r. By Robinson.

14. The endanegea, THE SCOURGE;
OEWWAW LIOF THE Momma. Ned Buntline.

15. The Tiger-Slayer; 0R, EAGLE-
Hm To m RESCUE. B Gustave Aimard.

16. The White W’izard; on, THE‘GREAT
Peon-um or THE SEMINOLES. By Ned Buntline.
V 1 . K htehade, THE ROBBER PRINCE
or Boom HEATH. ByDr.J.H.Robinson.

18. The Sea. Bandit; on, THE QUEEN

or m gm. lg Ned Buntline.

19. ed odor, THE PRAIRIE OUTLAW.
Iy Gustave Aimard. 

80. The  at Bay; OR, THE P!-

“???hm " By - g . .

. o . .s,__ .. H 7.. M V;

WW"E‘M“i mem’ on"?
22'  0R, Nam” OF THE LAKE

83051:. B Dr.J. H.  , 7. V
23. T Red Whittier; on, STELLA
Duncan‘s Comes: LOVER. By Ned Buntline.
24. Prairie Flower. By Gustave Ai-
anthor of “ V . r-Sia er." etc. ,
2 ‘. The Go ~Gui e; 0R, STEEL ARM,
vm REGULATOR. By Francis Johnson.
26. The. MM‘th-Trackm; ion:I all“ 0171'-
»s-LAws arm cum-am; nos O son.

. WI. The- ?” e; on. THE
Omawa on. www.m-
38. 1? Jack. TEE Rom
AGENT ormBoonm. Berose E. Badger, Jr
. - m:

TEE 0mm By J . E. Mgw
81. The New York ‘W
,Fum or Immune. By Albert W. n.
38. B'hoyu of Yale; on, Tan 80mm

OEA HARD Sm or Comma. Jolm D. Vase.
33. Overland Kit. By A. W. Aiken.

34. Rockyfiountain Rob. By Aiker
A 83. 363% theS rt. By Aiken.
, 3%. I ' Diet. r y Albert W. Aiken.
' d. the Hunchback: on, «THE
SummormSAmE. By Dr.J.B.Robinaon.
36. Velvet Hand; on, THE Knox Gar? or
noun»; Bi bertW. Aiken. ‘
39. The ' Sp ; on, THE BROTH-
m arm Sons: 0303. B Crick Whittaker.
40. The m V- ed ‘Pm-doz’ on,
m TABTABS orm a. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.
41. Golan“; on, THE Wm}: SAVAGE
or m GREAT Sm LAKE. By Albert W. Aiken.

. 42. The California A ive; on,
TEE Wrro‘mor NEW You. Albert W. Aiken.
, 4am Egncnmss‘RAmEn;

flown on m Noni-mm. By Oil Coomes.
/ 4'1. Pacifienrl’ete, THE PRINCE or m

J m- I , at. Jr. r .s 5 £
$‘fiwfi‘\3"fi  ‘_ YOUNG Comm

. Teamwfis,mmw°i§;mq H of

33 Large Three-Column Page» A

1.3.  Gregg; on, Gnmmm
M“ m“:  - am
e

FRENCH POLICE SPY. '

  

I

 

. rs; r

 

 

51. Rod Rob. THE BOY ROAD—AGENT.
By 011 Coomes.
53. Death Trailer, TEE Cum or
Secure. 8% Hon. Wm. F. Cody. (Buffalo Bill.)
58. ver Sam: or, THE Mysuny or
Deniwoon Cm. By Col. Delle Sara.
. 54. Always on Hand; or, THE SPORTIVE
SPORT on THE FOOT HILLS. By Philip S. War-no.
55. The Scalp Huntera. A ROMANCE on-
fléPLAINS. By Ca 1:. Mayne Reid.
8. The In - n Maze ; or, THE
MAD MAN or THE Puma. By W. Aiken.
5'3. The Silent Hunter ' or, THE SCOWL
HALL MYSTERY. B Percy B. St. John.
58. Silver ' e; or, WICKLIWE, THE
ROCKY MOUNTAIN RANGER. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.
59. The Man From Texas; or, Tm:
OUTLAW or ARKANSAS. By Albert W. Aiken.
60. Wide Awake; or, THE 1mm 01"
mm BLACK Ema. By Frank Dumont. I
61. Captain Seawaif. THE PRWATEER.
By Ned Buntline.
62. Loyal Heart; 01', THE TRAPPERS 01"
ARKANSAS. By Gustave Aimard.
63. The Win (1 Whale. By Aiken.
64. Double-g; ht. the Death Shot.
By Joseph E. Badger, r.
6. The Red Rajah; or, THE SCOURGE
on THE mums. By Captain Frederick Whittaker.
. The Specter Barque. A TALE
OF THE PACIFIC. By Ca tain Mayne Reid.
07. The Boy ockey; or, HONESTY
VERSUS Cnoomxnss. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.
68. The Fighting pper; or, KIT
CARSON To THE RESCUE. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams.
69. The Irish Ca tain; A TALE or
FONTENOY. By Captain Crick Whittaker.
“’70. Hydrabad, THE SMCLER; or,
, THEme or  I I . .Byzfiobiesom.
 Gogol- . ‘

mm
173.!»
7'2. The Phantom Band. A STORY OF
'73. The ht ed Cross;
or, Tan MAoloxAn or RANADA.’ Dr. J. H.-Robinson.
74. Captain of the Rifles. A ROMANCE
or m MEXICAN VALLEY. - By Captain Mayne Reid.
75. Gentlemen George, or, PABLDB,
Person, STAGE AN» STREET. B Albert W. Aiken.
78. The Queen’I teem-z or,
Texan, TEE morass PM. By George Albany.
7’7. The Freak of Pnsco; or, Tm:
Emma on Bummm'mm. , By Albq-t W. Aiken.
we. The Mysterious y; or, GOLDEN
m m Bowman’s DAUGHTER. By G .
'79. 30c Phenimrnn POLICE SPY. By
Albert W Allie '

. n.
80. A Man of Nerve; or, 0mm,
'rnE DWARF... By Philip S..Wame
81. man Tiger: or, A HEART
or FIRE. By Albert 'W. Aiéchen. ’
82. Iron Wrist. e Swordmam.
By Col. Thomas H. Monste .

ry

83. Gold Bullet Sport; or, was KNIGHTS
or m 0mm. 13 Butaio Bin.

84., Hunted Win; or, m Wan-E

Wma. B AlbertW.Aiken.
~ 86. The Cretan Rover; or, ZULEIKAE,
mBEAvmm. By 001. Prentiss Imam.
86. The. Big Hunter; or. Tm; QC
or m WOODS.‘ By the author of “ Bilent Hunter.’
81.,The Scarlet Ga tang; or, THE
PRISONER or ran Tom. By 1. Della 8am.
. . 9, THE GIAzg'r or ran
Gm; or gm: FIVE

w Baum ByBadger.
89. The Pirate Prince; or, PRETTY
NELLY, Tm: QUEER or m IsLE. By 001. Ingrath
90. Wild Will, THE MAD RANOBEBO;
or, TEE Tum Tum. By Buckskin Sam.
91. The Winning Oar; or, Tun Imt
xmnn’s 13mm. Bi lbeit W. Aiken,

92. Bufl‘uloem THE BUCKSKEN Km}; ’
M ' D m Burr. _ 1 I
By aféaaant‘gjn. , 11:]: Talbot. KING or
‘THE ROAD. gy W. Aiken.

94. Freelance, THE BUOCAN‘EEB; or. The
Way or was WAVE. By Col. Prentiss Ingmham.

0 . Aubert. TEE Axm; or. Tan Snow-rs
elegant:me ,An :2,

.n' 
  Eyegimdefick  9’3 . .

        
 

    

 

 

5,;‘or,;THE 
fay Jog E. W iJr. ‘

  “I ,
of the

Bach Number Complete. Brie. m m.

99.. The  We; on Wm
Lm: m m Lumen: Beam. ByGEOooma.

100. The French Spy; or. “I‘m: Benn
or PAms. ASto otthe Commune. ByAP.Mor‘rh.

101. The an ' w ark; W.
Wigwam or A Rica You: Women. By AM I.

. en. '

102. The Masked Band; or, Tm: my
WITHOUT A NAME. B George I... Aiken.

103. Merle, e Mflmeer; or, THE
BRAND on THE RED Amman. By Col. P. Ingmhnm.

104. Montezuma, the Merciless; or,
THE EAGLE AND THE SECRET. By Col. P. Ingmhem.

105. Dan Brown of Denver. Tm:
ROCKY MOUNTAIN Dmcnvn. By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.

106. Shamun O’Brien. THE BOULD er
on GLINGAL; or, Imsn HEARTS m {man Haunts.
By Colonel Delle Sara. .

107. Richard Talbot efGinnsbar;
or, THE BROTHERS OF THE RED Hm. By A.W. Aiken.

108. The Duke of Diamonds; or, Tan
FLOWER. 0F GAMMA. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

109. Captain Kyd, THE KING 0.1" ms
BLACK FLAG. By Colonel Prentiss Ingrilmm. ’

1 IOx'Phe Silent Rifieman. A Tale of
the Texan Plains. By Henry W. Herbert. .

l 1 1. The Smuggler Captain; or, Ta
SKIPPER’S CRIME. By ed Buntline.

12. Joe Phenix, PRIVATE Dmc-rrvn;

or, THE LEAGUE on m SKELETON KEYS. By Aileen.

113. The Sea. 811]) er; or, THE Alu-
TEUR FREEBOO-mns. By Pro . J. H. Ingraham. -

114. The Gentleman from ; or,
Tan: Gnos'r ovum: CANYON. B Phiil S. Wane.

1 15. The Severed ; or, THE
SECRET on CASTLE Covey. By Capt. Fred.Wlflttakfm-.

18. Black Plume, THE DEVIL on THE

SEA; or, mt.  or HELD-GATE. By Colonel

‘ '13. I , , , Dandy,TnE Hommn 01!
mommy ; 0N3 ’ 1"W‘ Fm‘
By Major Bangerfield Burr.

11,8. VTheBur 1...!- Captain; or, Tan
FALLEN Sun. ByPro . J. H. Ingreham. * ‘

9. Alabama. Joe; or, THE YAzoo
MAE-Htrfi'rnns. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. V r
120. The Texan . y;or, 
GUIDE. B Newton M. . : , -
121.¥1‘heSeaC&&et; or, m Rom
or me Broom. By Col. P. Ingmham. -:
122. Saul gunman»? Imam 8H;

or,LvmoxA, mammm. B N Buntline
' 123.  mien To:
BEKEOADES or m Deanna. By Johnson.

124. Aesome the Aw; or,
Tm: Boon on mu: 9mm. By Fm Johnson.
185. The Blwkifiith WW; or,
MERRY Emma. By Harrison  _ -

180. The Demon ’ 3 or, Tax
LEAGUE or 8mm By Coleus! Thosfimomry:
D 123?. Sol Scott. gnEiMAsxfiEn Minna: or,

AN nown’s DOUBLE. one Badger.
liai- rorealr; on'flm

128. The Chew;
By, the author of f‘ Melisa,

Hume: on Hymn.
the Mutineer." _
129. Mississip Km; or. A 333.033
MAN‘S SACRIFICE. By award Wfllett. r 
130. On. in Velma; or, Tu MA)!
on THE RED vonvm. By AlbertW. Aiken. I
13 1. Buckskin MERETEXAETW;
or, THE BAnmrrs or flu: BRAVO. By Col. mm
133. Reno, King eitha Tm; or,
TM‘ROKAM Gum‘s VENGMCE. By C r.
133. Body. the Rover; en'l‘mc Rm—
noquxorImANn. ByWillioanrlotom. V
134.. Dngtie Den, nu Comm Dunc.
mm or,‘1‘nE some tummx. 
135. The Bu. _ ,. , 12;, or,
BALE-ann BRIGADE. By Fran Janeen.
or, 82!:
Ohmo‘n. '
137. Bean's. wan GIANT Berger.
‘Wuu BOY or ran Woou.’ By
01! Coomes.

138. The Borfler Ban, Hit: :1 of, Tina
Hones-ijs  35’ Francis Johnson .Jnnéfin.
3m.“ . B 1%. THE BSEA‘HPYENA; or.
m or A UCCAKEEE. 001. .1 W ._ begin.
. 140. The   by
Georgewm '. Beadyaune h: it
--  - Awmmwfi-‘M:  
more. Dime mo , is are» 

 

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2S LITI’LE KATE KmDY. F. W. Robinson. .
93 gowmemm WIND. Mrs. Ma.
24- BIRDS or Pam. Miss M.

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““J'f. :1 V a; 

. A .. Ana soldat the uniform prioe/ of TEN CENTS. No‘ affable firie‘e on double "or extra siz‘e‘fifimbers.“  ,  *

1:74: Ban Hm me? Mrs. Ma, R. Crowal‘l 10c
72 m ‘ ' 00 51 CATHOLINA. By Dr. J. H; Robinson....“ , 1

a FWLovn: By

aim» HE Low 11:11?- 3811218 .me hen-
 .Nei'm'rwm 0%.:

.4 . :SWNGE W,

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6 : W9 figons’ LIVES. _ By ks. M. R. Crowell:

9 Tm: .W AR 01“ HEARTS. Corinne Cusme.

~ 11 Tux Mung; Wmow.»Mrle.D.Burmn. 

M 15 T T “FOR LOVE. q 171$ng %&g&d§on.. ..
* ‘ 0114231. F THE AIM. y I 1‘ ugo

my. By Catharine A Warfleld.

By J”. 8.1. Faun

12:13 Les

1% Tm: Qua
New Sims.

- WEDAEDGIT. Miss

26 Tau Bay or Noncorr’s.

2:438 CHARMS INFERITANCE. By Braddon.
29 A Gum‘s HEART. By Rett WinWOOd . .

30-31 RED AS A Rom: 1s SHE. Rhoda. Broughmn.
m @1131an (DIST.  B
33 STWGELY WED. B Mrs. J. D. Burton.. ..

34 I‘m: (may Emma- M.

85 W11; Tamra. ‘ B v. J. H. Ingl-
36 11‘ y Battle ' T. Campbell.
37 BLACK EYES AND BLUE. 00 me Cushman.
38 BRAVE BmaAnA. By Corinne Cushman

3 Wow: Margaret Blown.
Henrietta E. be Condo .

EOUT MERCY.

39 Amman
40 OUIDA’iLOVE. B _
_ Loam . Wm. Dorm
" Wmma WAYS. B; Ma

1 A Woman‘s HEART.
I Tim DEAD Lawn.

on»:

um OF ern.

..A W
TBEMA

5141' Gun» 3 Corinne (Bushman. . .
Dom MAlfiZIAGE EVER WAS. Burton. 10c

H etlrving... 1
100
100
100
100
100
10c
 NC
100
10c
100
100
100

e . . .
M. E. Braddon...

R. Crowell..
Braddon . .
Charles Lever.

H

yMrs.Crow'....100

E. O. Malen. . ..
' aham.

no Cushman 
aret Blount .

By  MIX/Vigor. 10c
ee 1 e esr r..
Lonumm’s DAUGHTER? B 5 g 1‘
AWOIKAN’B HAND. By author ‘Dead Letter.’ 100
V By Mrs. MarvB

y C. M. Braeme. Oc

. Crowell.. 10c

100

- 71 THE PARSON’S DAUGHTER.

50 LOVE INAMAZE. By E. F. 16c

 

90
52 A ROMANCE OFA Poo». YOUNG. GIRL. Ellet. 100
53 Tux LOCKED Hum. By Corimxe Cushman. 100
5 54 THE PRIDE or m Downs. g; M. Blouut 19c
55 AS/raANam Gm... Bar-Albert .Alken.  10c
56 '11“: Pam PURITAN. By A Parson’s
Dau liter... . . . . . .  . . . . .. . 

157 Dm HE Sm?'_ ByMar Reed Crowell‘...
1 58 DOUBLY DIVORCED. B}; can Davis Burton
5 59 A Wman Wouw. y .LII} eD. U. Blake ,
g 60 BLIND BARBARA’S SECRET. Mary Halpine..
g 61 AN AMERICAN UEEN. By Grace Mortlmer.
6‘). MARGOUN, TEE TRANGE. By W. M. Turner.
63 WIND: on WIDow. By Refit Wiuwood 
64 THE CREOLE Cousts. ByaPhilip S.Warne.

' PURSUED me man ALTAR. y Cushman

60 THE TERRIBLE TRUTH. By Jennie I). Burton.
' 67 ELEGANT Eonmn'r. By hilip S.“ Warne 10c
68 LADY .HELEN’S .Vow. By Mrs. E. F. Ellet. . 1
69 Bowm. THE KNIGHT or CBIIVALRY. Warne.
70 Dmrrmo TO RUIN. By Mary Reed Crowell.
By A Parson’s
Daufihter...“ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 
72 THE YSTERIOUS GUARDIAN. By (Bushman.
73 WAS SHE A WIFE. By Rett Wiuwood . . . . .. 100
74 ADRIA, Tm: ADOPTED. By Jennie D. Burton.
75 PRETTY AND- . By Corinne Cushman.
76 THE BITTER FEUD. B . Jennie D. Burton..
77 A WOMAN’S WORK. . y Mrs. E. F. Ellett...
78 Tm: BLACK RIDDLE. Bay Corinne Cushman.
79.00am. AND RUBY. By ennie Davis Burton,
80 vaoncmn BUT NOT Dmnnn. By A Parson‘s
Daughter.. . . . . . . . . . .  ..lOc
81 ALuoys'rMADmED. ByAParson’s Daughter. 10c
82 Two FAIR WOMEN. B Wm. M. turner... 10¢
" 83 THE INHERITANCE on Him. By Burton . .. 10c

 

. ~..

85 FOR Hoxon’s Sufi. Bymmaeedomwgn. “13¢

89 Tum: Tums Dun. By may 35;. 3. Man. 109%
90 FOR A WomM’s Sum. By WutteyPhfilips. 100
91. ‘HF. Comm Nor,’ Sam M  16¢
92 THE NEW MAGDALEN. By Wilkie 601mm. 10c
93 AN OPEN VERDICT. By Miss M. E. Brafldon. 100

95 A BEG GAB 0N HORSEBAGK. By James Payne. 10c
96 HER FACE WAs HER Foarum. By  fie
. 97 JANE EYRE. By Charlotte Bronte. ..r.. . . .. 100

 

‘ 99 THE COLLEEN BAwN. By Gerald 10c
100 AN AMBITIOUS GIRL; or, She Would Be an
Actress. By ACeIebx-ated Actress. 5113:4523. 300

101 FOUL PLAY. By Charles Reade and Dion
Boucicault. Ready June 30th .. ..: .. . 10c

102 (3mm. ByMrs. Olipbant. Ready July7.. 10c

108 A WOMAN Hymn. ' By Charles Reade. '
Bandy July 14th. . .. . . . . . .  . . . . . . . . . . . .. 100

A new team My  -
For sale by all newsdealem, or amt’postage
paid, on receipt of tWelve Cents. BEADLE AND
ADAMS, Publishers. 98 William street, N. Y. '

 

 

 

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in 1561; “or. Tm: IerSrARRED MA

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36 au- Arehefls Bride. By A.'Sot1thv5mrth.
37 The Country Conan. Rose Kenmody.
38 His Own Again. Arabella Seashworth.
39 >mruflam « By Ralph Royal. ' 3 ‘
40 Pledged to Marry. By Sara Claxton.

~ 41 331:! Bowman. =  Fleming .

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45 Ker Hidden Foo- Arabella Southworth.
, 4.6 The Little Helm“. 135' M. .A.Denkon
47 lie-canoe She my“: “on; or, How
Wm. 1T END. By Mica W82 f _ ~
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48 In Splie’offierself. I
49 Engines: "fitmrm of ~Loik AT
. mm Smgrf‘By Arabella aqimmfonh. 
30 The Cuban Harem“ '01", 'MW
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94 SWORD AND GOWN. By Geo. A Lawrence. 100"

‘ 98 WRDCKED IN Pom. By Edmund Yates..."10¢ ,

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72 The Two‘Wlflovys. ByAnniéfi.”  
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84 me Laurel Bu .

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