"Glad to see your sister looking so well, Mr. Aniseed," said Mrs. Capstick, somewhat slily. "Oh! what, you mean Kitty? Why, she looks as well as she can, and that is n't much, poor soul," said Jem.

"She was here yesterday, and bought some muffins. A dark gentleman was with her," said Mrs. Capstick.

"You mean the black footman," observed Jem, dropping at once to the cold, hard truth.

"Why, that you know as well as I," answered Jem; "it's St. James' Palace."

"And there lives his gracious Majesty, George the Third. Now, I dare say, Mr. Aniseed, it's very difficult for you to look upon his Majesty in what I shall beg leave to call, a state of nature?"

"What! like an Injun ?" asked Jem. " Well, I must say, I can hardly fancy it."

"Of course not. When you hear of a king, he comes upon you in velvet and fur, and with a crown upon his head-and diamonds blazing upon

"Well," and Mrs. Capstick giggled, as though communicating a great moral discovery, "well, there's no accounting for taste, is there, Mr. Ani-him-and God knows how many rows of lords seed?"

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Why, Mary Anne, as a moral man-and, therefore, as a man who respects his oath, I feel it my duty to go and enjoy my egg." "With this excuse-worthy of a Timon-did the muffin-maker take his way towards the mansion of Lord St. James. "It's a hard thing," said Capstick on the road, "a hard thing, that you can't always tell a wife the truth."

"I always tell it to my old woman," observed Bright Jem.

"You're a fortunate man sir," said Capstick. "All women can't bear it: it's too strong for 'em. Now, Mrs. Capstick is an admirable person -a treasure of a wife-never know what it is to want a button to my shirt, never-still, I am now and then obliged to sacrifice truth on the altar of conjugal peace. It makes my heart bleed to do it, Mr. Aniseed; but sometimes it is done."

Bright Jem nodded as a man will nod who thinks he catches a meaning, but is not too sure of it." And what will you say?" asked Jem, after a moment's pause-" what will you say to his lordship, if he'll see you?"

about him-and then all the household guardsand the state coach-and the state trumpets, and the thundering guns, and the ringing bells-all come upon your mind as a piece and parcel of him, making a king something tremendous to consider something that you can only think of with a kind of fright. Is it not so?" asked the muffinmaker.

Jem merely answered-"Go on, Mr. Capstick."

"Now I feel nothing of the sort. I know the world, and despise it," said the muffin-maker. "I'll take your word for anything but that," cried Jem. But go on.'

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"I tell you, sir, I hate the world," repeated Capstick, proud of what he thought his misanthropy: "and of sweet use has such hatred been to me.'

Bright Jem cast an incredulous leer at the muffin-man. "I never heard of the sweetness of hatred afore. I should as soon looked for honey in a wasp's nest."

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'Ha! Jem, you know nothing; else you'd know how a contempt for the world sharpens a man's wits, and improves his eyesight. Bless you! there are a thousand cracks and flaws and fly-spots upon everything about us, that we should never see without it," said Capstick.

"Well, thank God! I'm in no need of such spectacles," said Bright Jem.

con

"And for that very reason, Jem," said the muffin-maker, "you are made an every-day victim of-for that reason your very soul goes down upon its knees to things that it 's my especial comfort to despise. You have n't the wit, the judgment, to separate a man from all his worldly advantages, and look at him, as I may say, in his very nakedness-a mere man. Now, Jem, that is the power Mr. Capstick cast a cold, self-complacent eye I especially pride myself upon. Hence," upon the linkman, and replied-"I shall trust to tinued the muffin-maker-and he brought himself my inspiration." Jem softly whistled-uncon- up fronting the palace, and extended his right arm scious of the act. Mr. Capstick heard, what he towards it-"hence, I can take an emperor from deemed a severe comment, and majestically con- his crowd of nobles-his troops-his palace walls tinued: "Mr. Aniseed, you may not imagine it--his royal robes, and set him before me just as but I have a great eye for gingerbread.' "No doubt on it, Mr. Capstick," said Jem, "it's a part of your business."

"You don't understand me," replied the muffinmaker with a compassionate smile. "I mean, my good man, the gingerbread that makes up so much of this world. Bless your heart! I pride myself upon my eye, that looks at once through all the gilding-all the tawdry, glittering Dutch metal-that covers the cake, and goes at once to the flour and water."

"I don't see what you mean, by no means," said Jein; "that is, not quite."

"Look here, sir," said Capstick, with the air of a man who had made himself up for an ora"What is that pile of brick before us?"

tion.

God made him. As I'd take a cocoa-nut, and tear away the husk, and crack the shell, and pare the inner rind, and come at once upon the naked kernel, so, Mr. Aniseed, can I take-aye the Great Mogul-and set him in his shivering flesh before me."

"And you think the knack to do this does you good?" modestly inquired Bright Jem.

"It's my solace, my comfort, my strength," answered the muffin-maker. "And this knack, as you have it, is what I call seeing through the gold upon the gingerbread. Now, is n't it dreadful to think of the thousands upon thousands who every day go down upon their knees to it, believing the gilded paste so much solid metal? Ha! Mr. Aniseed! we talk a good deal about the

miserable heathen; the poor wretches who make | ested the reader, to make him wish to know the idols of crocodiles and monkeys-but Lord bless precise magic words which, operating on the us! only to think in this famous city of London of the thousands of Christians, as they call themselves, who after all are idolaters of gilt gingerbread!"

We say, this is a fiction of the constitution; and beautiful in its influence upon the human Now, we hope that we have sufficiently inter- mind, is fiction. Now, the Marquess of St. James

had in his father's lifetime represented the borough | was somewhat abashed, a little flurried at the of Liquorish. He was returned by at least a hun- splendor around him. He was not ashamed of dred and fifty voters as independent as their very his poverty; yet he somehow felt that it had no limited number permitted them to be. The business intruding in such a paradise. calumny of politics had said that the house of St. James carried the borough of Liquorish in its pocket, as easily as a man might in the same place carry a rotten apple or a rotten egg. Let the reader believe only as much of this as his charity will permit him.

In a few moments, the muffin-maker and Jem found themselves in a magnificent library. Seated at a table was a short, elderly little man, dressed in black. His face was round as an apple. He had small, sharp, grey eyes, which for a few moments he levelled steadily at Capstick and Jem, and then suddenly shifted them in a way that declared all the innermost and dearest thoughts of the muffin-maker to be, in that glance, read and duly

Now it oddly enough happened that, at the time when Capstick sought to approach the marquess, parliament was near its dissolution. The wicked old hag was all but breathing her last, yet-case-registered. "Pray be seated," said the gentlehardened old sinner!-she expressed no contrition, showed no touch of conscience for her past life of iniquity for her wrongs she had committed upon the weak and poor; for the nightly robberies upon them who toiled for the especial luxury of those who, like the tenants of a cheese, lived and crawled upon unearned pensions; she repented not of the blood she had shed in the wickedness of war; never called about her soft-hearted, tearful, most orthodox bishops, to assuage the agony of her remorse, and to cause her to make a clean breast of all her hidden iniquity. No. Parliament was about to expire-about to follow her sinful predecessors (what horrid epitaphs has history written upon some of them!) and she heard no voice of conscience; all she heard was the chink of guineas pursed by bribery for her

successor.

Even the marquess' porter felt the coming of the new election. His fidelity to his master and his patriotism to merry England had been touched by a report that the borough of Liquorish was about to be invaded by some revolutionary spirit, resolved to snatch it from the time-honored grasp of the house of St. James, and-at any cost-to wash it of the stain of bribery. Somebody had dared to say that he would sit for the independent borough of Liquorish if every voter in it had a gold watch, and every voter's wife a silver tea-pot and diamond ear-rings. This intelligence was enough to make all true lovers of their country look about them. Therefore did the porter consider Mr. Capstick-although a muffin-man-a person of some importance to the marquess. Capstick was a voter for the borough of Liquorishthat was bought and sold like any medlar-and therefore, to the mind of the porter, one of the essential parts of the British constitution: hence, the porter was by no means astounded when Cesar returned with a message that Mr. Capstick was to follow him.

The muffin-maker passed along, in no way dazzled or astonished by the magnificence about him. He had made his mind up to be surprised at nothing. Arabian splendors-it was his belief -would have failed to disturb the philosophic serenity of his soul. He had determined, according to his own theory, to extract the man from the marquess-to come, as he would say, direct at humanity divested of all its worldly furniture. Bright Jem meekly followed the misanthrope, treading the floor with gentlest tread; and won. dering at the freak of fortune that even for a moment had enabled him, a tenant of Short's Gardens, to enter such an abode. Bright Jem could not help feeling this, and at the same time feeling a sort of shame at the unexpected weakness. He had believed himself proof to the influence of grandeur nevertheless, he could not help it; he

man; and Capstick heavily dropped himself into a velvet chair. Bright Jem, on the contrary, settled upon the seat lightly as a butterfly upon a damask rose and like the butterfly, it seemed doubtful with him, whether every moment he would not flutter off again. Capstick at once concluded that he was in the presence of the marquess. Jem knew better, having seen the nobleman; but thought possibly it might be some earl or duke, a friend or relation of the family. However, both of them augured well of their mission, from the easy, half-cordial manner of the illustrious gentleman in black. His words, too, were low and soft, as though breathed by a flute. He seemed the personification of gentleness and politeness. Nevertheless, reader, he was not of the peerage: being, indeed, nothing more than Mr. Jonathan Folder, librarian-and at times confidential agent-to the Marquess of St. James. He had just received the orders of his lordship to give audience on his behalf, to what might be an important deputation from the borough of Liquorish: hence, Mr. Folder, alive to the patriotic interest of his employer and friend-as, occasionally, he would venture to call the Marquess-was smiling and benignant.

"Mr. Capstick-I presume you are Mr. Capstick"-and Mr. Folder with his usual sagacity, bowed to the muffin-maker-" we are glad to see you. This house is always open to the excellent, and patriotic voters of Liquorish. There never was a time, Mr. Capstick, when it more behoved the friends of the constitution to have their eyes about them. The British constitution"

"There is no constitution like it," observed the muffin-maker drily.

"That's an old truth, Mr. Capstick"-said Mr. Folder-" and, like all old truths, all the better for its age."

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No constitution like it," repeated the muffinmaker. "I don't know how many times it has n't been destroyed since I first knew it and still it's all alive. The British constitution, my lord, sometimes seems to me very like an eel; you may flay it and chop it to bits; yet all for that, the pieces will twist and wriggle again."

"It is one of its proud attributes, Mr. Capstick"-said Folder; doubtless he had not heard himself addressed as my lord-" one of the glories of the constitution, that it is elastic-peculiarly elastic."

"And that's, I suppose, my lord"-surely Mr. Folder was a little deaf-"that's why it gets mauled about so much. Just as boys don't mind what tricks they play upon cats-because, poor devils, somebody to spite 'em, has said they 've got nine lives. But I beg your pardon, this is my friend-Mr. James Aniseed, better known as Bright Jem," and Capstick introduced the link

man.

Mr. Folder slightly rose from his chair, and graciously bowed to Jem; who, touched by the courtesy, rose bolt upright; and then, after a moment's hesitation, he took half-a-dozen strides towards Mr. Folder, and-ere that gentleman was aware of the design-shook him heartily by the hand. Then, Jem, smiling and a little flushed, returned to his chair. Again taking his seat, he looked about him with a brightened, happy face, for Mr. Folder-the probable nobleman—had returned the linkman's grasp with a most cordial pressure.

"I should hope not, Mr. Capstick," said Folder, with a smile that seemed to add-impossible. "Certainly not. But isn't it, I say, pleasant to a man-hater like me, to see this sort of dealing "And, Mr. Aniseed," said Folder, "I presume to know that, however mean, and wicked, and you have also a voice in the constitution; you rascally, the voter is who sells his jewel-he is have a vote for-" taught the meanness, encouraged in the wicked"Iness, and more than countenanced in the rascality, by the high and lofty fellow with the money-bag. Oh! at the school of corruption, arn't there some nice high-nob ushers?"

"Not a morsel, my lord," answered Jem. have n't a voice in anything; all I know about the constitution is that it means taxes; for you see, my lord, I've only one room and that's a little un -and so, you see, my lord, I've no right to "Never mind that, Mr. Capstick," said Bright nothing." Whilst Jem pursued this declaration, Jem, who began to fear for the success of their Mr. Folder, doubtless all unconsciously, rubbed mission, if the muffin-maker thus continued to vinhis right hand with his handkerchief. The mem-dicate his misanthrophy. "Never mind that. We ber might, possibly, have caught some taint from the shake of a low man without a vote.

"Nevertheless, Mr. Capstick, we are happy to see you," said Folder, with a strong emphasis upon the pronoun. "Public morality-I mean the morality of the other party-is getting lower and lower. In fact, I should say, the world-that is, you know what part of the world I mean-is becoming worse and worse, baser and baser."

"There is no doubt of it, my lord," answered Capstick" for if your lordship-"

Capstick had become too emphatic. It was therefore necessary that Folder should correct him. "I am not his lordship. No, I am not," he repeated, not unobservant of the arched eyebrows of the muffin-maker-"I am deputed by his lordship to receive you, prepared to listen to your wishes, or to the wishes of any of the respectable constituents of the borough of Liquorish. We are not unaware, Mr. Capstick, of the movements of the enemy. But we shall be provided against them. They, doubtless, will be prepared to tamper with the independence of the electors, but as I have said"-and Folder et his words fall slowly as though they were so many gems-" as I have said, there we can beat them on their own dirty grounds."

can't make a sore any better by putting a plaster of bad words to it never mind that;-but Mr. Capstick," said Jem earnestly, “let 's mind something else."

"Then I am to understand," said Mr. Folder, who in his philosophy had been somewhat entertained by the philippics of the muffin-maker-" I am to understand, that your present business in no way relates to anything connected with the borough?"

"Not at present," said Capstick, "only I hope that his lordship won't forget I have a voice. Because-"

At this moment, the door flew open, and a child a beautiful creature-gambolled into the room. It was young St. James. The very cherub, as Kitty Muggs would have called him, robbed by the iniquitous, the hopeless St. Giles. Truly he was a lovely thing. His fair, fresh young faceinformed with the innocence, purity, and happiness of childhood-spoke at once to the heart of the beholder. What guilelessness was in his large blue eyes-what sweetness at his mouthwhat a fair, white expanse of brow-adorned with clustering curls of palest gold! His words and laughter came bubbling from the heart, making the sweetest music of the earth; the voice of "There is no doubt whatever of it," said Cap-happy childhood! A sound that sometimes calls stick, none at all. And then in these matters, us from the hard dealing, the tumult, and the there's nothing like competition-nothing what-weariness of the world-and touches us with tenever. For my part, I must say, I like to see it—der thoughts, allied to tender tears.

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it does me good-an election, such an election as "What a beautiful cretur!" whispered Jem to we have in Liquorish, is a noble sight for a man who, like myself, was born to sneer at the world. At such a time, I feel myself exalted."

the muffin-maker. "He's been kept out of the mud of the world, has n't he? I say; it would be a hard job to suppose that blooming little fellow -with rags on his back, matches in his hand, and nothin' in his belly, eh? Quite as hard as to think young St. Giles was him, eh? And yet it might ha' been-might n't it?"

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Here is the future member for Liquorish," said Mr. Folder, the child having run up to him, and jumping upon his kness. Here, sir, is your future representative.” "Well, if he keeps his looks," said Jem aside to Capstick, you won't have nothing to complain."

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"Of course, the borough will be kept warm for the young gentleman,' "said the muffin-man. "He may count upon my vote-yes, I may say, he may depend upon it. In the mean time, sir, Í

come upon a little business in which that young | the conceit in me to think that then the boy gentleman is remotely concerned."

"You don't mean the shameful robbery last night?" said Mr. Folder. "A frightful case of juvenile depravity! Another proof that the world's getting worse and worse.

"No doubt of it," said Capstick, worse and worse; it's getting so bad, it must soon be time to burn it up."

"The poor little boy who did it, sir," said Bright Jem, very deferentially, "did n't know any better."

"Know no better! Impossible! Why, how old is he?" asked Mr. Folder.

"Jist gone seven, sir, not more ;" answered Jem.

wouldn't have been a thief at all. He'd then been better taught, and teaching's everything. I'd have sent him to school, and the devil has n't such an enemy nowhere as a good schoolmaster.* Even now I should like to try my hand upon him, if I could have him all to myself, away from the wickedness he was hatched in."

"I dare say you mean very well, my man, no doubt of it," said Mr. Folder. "Still, I think, the boy had a little taste of the jail-”

"A little taste," groaned Jem, "if he has ever so little, he 's pisoned for life; I know that, I've seen it afore."

"And so, sir,” resumed Capstick, "I am come as a petitioner, and as a voter for the borough of Liquorish, to ask his lordship's compassion upon this wretched child."

"Well, I'm sure, Mr. Capstick, I'll see what's to be done, I'm sure I will. Now will you,' and Mr. Folder addressed himself smilingly to the child-" will you ask papa, for your sake, to forgive the naughty boy that run away with your

"And here's this dear child not yet seven! And do you mean to tell me that he does n't know better? Do you mean in your ignorance to insinuate that this young gentleman would do such a thing-eh?" cried Folder of the abashed linkman. Bless his dear, good eyes, no" said Jem, with some emotion-"sartinly not. But then he 's been taught better. Ever since he could speak-hat?" and I dare say almost afore-every night and day he was taken upon somebody's knees, and teached to say his prayers-and what was good and what was bad-and besides that, to have all that was quiet and happy and comfortable about him-and kind words and kind looks that are almost better than bread and meat to children-for they make 'em kind and gentle too-now, the poor little boy that stole that young gentleman's hat-"

"I don't want the hat"-cried the child, for he had heard the story of the wicked boy at the playhouse" I don't want it-he may have it if he likes-I told papa so."

"Bless you, for a sweet little dear," said Jem, brushing his eyes.

"The truth is, sir, I came here," said Capstick, "I came as a voter for the independent borough of Liquorish-to intercede with the magnanimity of the marquess for the poor little wretch-the unhappy baby, for he's no more-now locked up for felony."

"Oh, yes, that I will," answered the child eagerly. "You know I don't care about the hat I've plenty of hats. I'll run to papa now," and the child jumped from Folder's knee, and bounded from the room.

"There, my man," said Folder, with a smile of triumph to Bright Jem, "there you see the spontaneous work of a good nature.'

"With good teaching," said Jem. "I know'd the little cretur that 's now locked up-I knowed him when he was a babby, and if he 'd only had fair play he 'd ha' done the same thing."

"Let us hope he 'll improve if he 's forgiven," said Mr. Folder. "I will, however, go to his lordship, and know his fate." With this, Folder quitted the apartment on his benevolent mission.

"What a capital thought it was of you, Mr. Capstick, to come here-it had never entered my head," said Jem.

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Nothing like approaching the fountain source," said Capstick, serenely. Besides, I know an election is near at hand; and as an election approaches, you can't think how it takes the stiffness out of some people. There's no accounting for it, I suppose, but so it is."

"What's the use?" asked Mr. Folder, dancing the scion of St. James upon his knee-"what's the use of doing anything for such creatures? It's only throwing pity away. The boy is sure to be hanged some time-depend upon it, when "A great many books here, Mr. Capstick" boys begin to steal, they can't leave it off-it's said Jem, looking reverentially at the loaded impossible-it's against nature to expect it. I shelves-"I wonder if his lordship's read 'em always give 'em up from the first-and, depend | upon it, it's the shortest way in the end; it saves a good deal of useless trouble, and I may say false humanity. As for what children are taught, and what they're not taught-why, I think we make more noise about it than the augument's worth. You see, Mr. Capstick, there is an old proverb what's bred in the bone, you know—"

"Why, sir, saving your presence, if wickedness goes down from father to son, like colorthe only way I see to make the world better is to lay hold of all the bad people, and put 'em out of it at once; so that for the future," concluded Jem, "we should breed nothing but goodness." "Pray, my good man"-asked Mr. Folder66 are you the father of the thief?"

66 No, sir, I'm not. I wish I was, with all my heart and soul," cried Jem with animation. "Humph, you've an odd taste for a father," shortly observed Mr. Folder.

"What I mean, sir, is this," said Jem. "I've

all."

"Humph," answered the scoffing muffin-maker, "it's not so necessary to read a library; the great matter's to get it. With a good many folks heaps of books are nothing more than heaps of acquaintance, that they promise themselves to look in upon some day.'

"Well," said Jem, his eyes glistening, "I never see books all in this fashion, without think

tant person in the state than he who is peculiarly entrusted * I will not say a village schoolmaster is a more imporwith the education of the Prince of Wales, though I think he is a far more important personage than the highest state officer in the king's household. The material he has to deal with is man, and I think it would be rather rash to venture to limit his range or capacities.-Lord Morpeth at the York Diocesan National Education Society. [Had a plebeian enunciated this great truth, he would, from certain quarters, have been pelted with the sounding yet harmless epithets of demagogue and revolutionist. Here, however, it is an English nobleman who places a village schoolmaster above a royal chamberlain. All honor to such nobility!]