Whether the good woman saw farther than others, by that kind of natural instinct which is independent of all education, and which is emphatically called mother-wit-or whether mere chance, or, to speak more justly, the truth, produced this frequent allusion to Miss Georgina-certain it is, the topic was soon perceived to be not disagreeable; and Tremaine grew impatient with Dupuis to finish his dressing, in order that he might get in time to old Giles.

"And yet," said he, with dissatisfaction, “what can I do? I never saw the old man in my life; and my being his landlord is nothing, since it can only work on his expectations, which are now all in the grave."

As he rode briskly over the village, this strain of thought accompanied him, and he began to reflect, more than he had yet done, how little even riches could effect in a life of absolute seclusion, and how much more useful a practical, plain, and neighbourly man might be, than all the most refined though richest speculatists in the world.

"I wonder," said he, as he dismounted at the Checquers' door," that Dr. Evelyn has not been able to soften this hard old man!"

Now it happened at that very moment the Doctor was descending the little stairs of the inn from the sick man's chamber, where he had passed nearly

the last hour. Their mutual surprise may be supposed.

"What do I see!" began the Rector, looking first at his friend, and then at the village dial, which was glittering in the sun; "the refined Mr. Tremaine, in a low alehouse, and not ten o'clock!"

Tremaine never felt less refined than at that

moment.

"I see you are before me as usual," he exclaimed, "for I apprehend we are both on the same errand.'

"I am very glad to hear it, if we are," said the Doctor, doubtingly. "I thought that to visit the dying had only belonged to my cloth."

"We will not dispute here," answered Tremaine, coming to the door; "I only hope you have succeeded in what will have been a good work."

66

Why, I trust it is a good one, if I have given a poor sinner a chance the less of the displeasure of his Maker, who has summoned him."

The maid of the house who was washing the steps, and the mistress of a little shop over the way, together with two or three other neighbours, had assembled at the door on seeing the rector, and knowing the danger of the old man; and at this speech, which was very solemnly uttered, all involuntarily, as it were, dropped a courtsey; a straggling traveller, who was drinking his pint on

a stone bench in the street, pulled off his hat; and even the ostler, who was remarkable for being a very idle careless fellow, stopped whistling, and seemed impressed with respect.

We are greatly mistaken if here were not examples of that religion of the heart (as it may be emphatically called), the very existence of which the world, and particularly the refined world, are but little disposed to allow.

Be this as it may, the little audience collected round the rector looked their inquiries earnestly, though respectfully, as to the state of both mind and body, in which he had left the dying man.

The character and circumstances of old Giles were in fact known to all his neighbours; and as his daughter Mary was very much beloved for her unoffending manners, rendered still more interesting by her having been an absolute slave to her father, there seemed to be a sympathy in all the inhabitants of the village as to her fate.

In truth, this old man was one of those capricious, selfish tyrants, to be found in all ranks of life, and only more noted in the higher, from their greater power of making people unhappy. He had married a meek and obsequious woman from the Doctor's family, who never ceased to lament the day when she left his protection, and the care of the "sweet Georgy," to bestow herself on a brute, who, having

bruised her body with stripes, bruised her heart at the same time, till it broke.

To her place, as a sufferer, succeeded the mild Mary, who, from a feeling of filial piety, bore with all his tyranny, and nursed him through many an illness, the consequence of the most intemperate indulgence.

Her the young Christmas addressed, and not only won, but won with her father's consent; for he was then heir to a neighbouring farmer, who was supposed to be rich. But the farmer broke after the banns had been published, and the news reached Giles at the moment when the parties (all but himself, who was confined to his chair) were assembled at the altar. He could therefore take no step to stop the ceremony; and the parties married, returned home to ask a blessing, and were instantly turned out of doors.

The tears, the intreaties of Mary, and the promised industry of John, had no effect. This wretched man was unappeasable in his revenge: he resolved to crush them for ever; yet wàs still so much impressed by character, that having no relation whom he personally knew, he sent for Evelyn, to whom he offered to bequeath his whole fortune, amounting to some hundreds of pounds. Evelyn not only refused the offer, but seriously reproved him for his savage injustice; and many a visit did he pay him, urging

all that feeling, or morality, or religion could supply —but urging in vain.

Nevertheless, and with all his brutality, Giles had some sense of a life to come; and as his fits of illness were more or less critical, it was observed, he was more or less obstinate in his determination. On the day our party dined at Careless's, his pains having left him for an hour or two, he actually ordered an attorney to be sent for from Belford, with a view to leave his fortune (as Evelyn had refused it) to the only relative he knew of, a tradesman at Leeds; and it was to obviate this that Evelyn (as we have before related) visited the alehouse while the syllabub was preparing. He succeeded in getting a delay till the next day; and during the night, Giles's disorder having returned, Evelyn, who had desired to be apprised of his state, went over to him early, in order to take advantage of it. He found him indeed dying, and represented so forcibly to him the impossibility of his obtaining mercy who shewed none, that the will was given up, and Mary and her husband actually sent for. Such was the conduct, and such the reward of the practical Evelyn!

"I envy you," said Tremaine, as the servant, whom the Doctor had despatched for Mary and John, returned with them up the street. "I should never have accomplished this, though I came with

that view."