so unremittingly that any delinquency, in the shape of Scripture-reading, or hearing, or a lodgment in the saving's bank, or smuggling a child to school, or purchasing at half-price at the Dorcas repository, was exposed on the instant, and the offender's name called from the altar on the next Sunday.

Peggy never had the courage to carry her complaint to the colonel, notwithstanding her repeated assurances to that effect. She said that it would come with a better grace from Mrs. Smith, strongly recommending her to write a petition, setting forth her grievances. Her advice was never followed. Mrs. Smith seemed almost callous to ill-usage. She merely avoided coming in contact with it, when she could escape it, and advised her maid to exercise patience under her provocations; a virtue which Peggy protested was too much to ask from any well-reared Christian, only when there was nothing to vex one.

The kind feelings of her friend, the cobbler, were not called into such active operation. This was not his fault. He had once ventured to express them, but met with such a rebuff that, although they continued still alive, they were obliged to lie dormant for want of materials to work upon. His interest in her was first excited by her constant attendance at the preaching-house; the strongest evidence to him, that she was a truly religious woman. For many years he had been a member of the Methodist body, and was a leading character among them, without being a particular favourite with the brotherhood in Dunasker. He was a very honest upright man, who would speak his mind freely, and often offended some of the highest professors by requiring that their doings should bear some proportion to their sayings-a requisition, which, though generally assented to as reasonable in theory, is often found most unreasonable by those who are called upon to reduce it to practice. Now, Antony Pope was not of the opinion of the gentleman (an Irishman, we presume) who discovered that theory and practice are synonymous terms. He stoutly maintained that the precepts of religion were to be obeyed in all circumstances, and at all times and seasons, and would allow of no excuse for conduct habitually opposed to those precepts, while they were knowledged to be the standard of duty. This unflinching requirement was so

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troublesome to many of his associates, who would gladly be permitted to enjoy all the privileges of their profession on the cheapest terms, that they would not have been sorry to detect a few flaws in his conduct, which would, on being clearly pointed out to him, necessarily plead for a little indulgence in their own cases. But the severest scrutiny could bring nothing to light on which to fix the charge of inconsistency. He was often brought to trial for alleged misdemeanours, and invariably came off triumphant. We cannot say that no angry feelings ever found a place in his mind, on such occasions; but, if they did, the sun never went down upon his wrath. He lived in charity with all; and, under many provocations, preserved a spirit free from bitterness.

In justice to those, who, sometimes, did not feel so kindly to him, we must mention that Antony, though_amiable and sincerely pious, was far from being judicious. His good intentions were often counteracted by mistiming his exhortations, or dwelling too strongly upon some minor point, or presupposing, or providing for, a case which had its existence solely in his own imagination. He always felt obliged for advice offered to himself, no matter whether in season or out of season; and, therefore, supposed that others would receive it as complacently. Experience taught him nothing in this particular. It might convince him of the impracticability of an individual; but his general rule was not to be affected by a few exceptions. So, he continued volunteering advice, stating objections and offering consolation, as occasions presented themselves.

Mrs. Smith's outward deportment was so orderly, that he gave her credit for every perfection that could adorn a woman. He accounted for her peculiar habits by supposing that she had suffered much affliction-that she had lost a husband, and a fine family of children; and, being thus left alone, had sought and found comfort in religion. He had met with a large share of such trials, and having experienced comfort from the sympathy of friends, was anxious to impart it to her. He, therefore, accosted her in an early stage of their acquaintance; if sitting together in the same room, for an hour, once a fortnight, might argue acquaintanceship. As usual, her manner was so reserved, if not so repulsively cold,

and Mrs. Smith, a silent woman, who, decidedly, wanted a companion, although she seemed in no hurry to find

one.

This scheme, the moment it entered his mind, took such hold of his fancy that he resolved to propose it for the lady's consideration without waiting to consult Mr. M'Cracken's inclinations on his next visit to Dunasker. He, accordingly, popped upon Mrs. Smith in her evening walk at the farthest point to which, in general, it extended in order to have sufficient time to explain the whole business before she could cut him short by taking refuge in her house.

He began at once, though rather in a round-about way; for her tone of voice was so chilling, and her acknowledgment of his civilities so distant, that he felt a sudden damp come over his spirits as he delicately insinuated his business. The importance of his subject gradually inspired confidence, particularly when he saw that he was listened to with decided attention; and he, at length, explained himself with a perspicuity which left no room to doubt his meaning.

"I never gave an advice, Mrs. Smith," he said, in conclusion, "that I had not good reason for it; and I have no fear that a woman of your years will stand in your own light when such a comfortable settlement is before you."

Mrs. Smith stopped short and stared him full in the face. Her lips moved once or twice, as if about to speak; but they closed again without a sound; and, after a few minutes' pause, she again walked forward in silence.

Mr. Pope was somewhat at a loss to understand this dumb show; and, as our readers must be equally in the dark, we shall take the liberty of explaining her thoughts for their satisfaction. In his recommendation of the married state, Antony had quite forgot to mention the gentleman whose cause he took in hand. He merely represented him to be elderly, exemplary, and in want of a housekeeper; and, from the many assurances of respect and good will, with which he prefaced his proposal, Mrs. Smith conceived that the aspirant to her hand was no other than the cobbler himself. Her first impulse was to order him indignantly from her presence; but, on looking at him, her heart softened; for his countenance was so thoroughly indicative of the absence of all intention

to give offence, and his demeanour so respectful, that she excused his folly on the score of dotage. She, therefore, hesitated how to express her disapprobation of his proposal, and continued to walk leisurely forward without speaking.

Antony judged favourably of her silence. After a very respectable pause he again adverted to the subject. "I think the better of you Mrs. Smith for taking time to consider. There is no hurry about it; I am always on the spot, and when your mind is made up you know where to find me."

This was going too far. It was said with, what appeared to her, a selfsatisfied air, such as a favoured lover might be betrayed into on receiving a little bashful encouragement. Mrs. Smith again stood still and addressed him with severity of voice and look.

"Let me hear no more of such nonsense. At your advanced time of life, my good man, you would be much better employed in digging your grave than preparing for your marriage."

It was Antony's turn now to stop short in great astonishment.

"Ah! then, ma'am dear," he asked, "what put it into your head that I was thinking about such a thing at all?”

"Why, sir, what have you been speaking about?"

"About yourself and Mr. M'Cracken, ma'am."

The mistake was soon cleared up. Mrs. Smith felt alternately amused and annoyed as he exculpated himself from all design of looking so high for himself. He next proclaimed at great length Mr. M'Cracken's good qualities; and concluded by again referring to himself.

"It isn't alone, ma'am," he said, "that I never had an eye to my supariors, for I never once glanced at an equal since she, that is gone, left me alone. No, ma'am, no disparagement to any body; but I say this, that the queen of the East and West Indies would never have a welcome to sit down by me in my poor little place, if she wanted to step into her shoes."

Have you ever mentioned this plan to any one but myself?" enquired Mrs. Smith.

gently, but firmly, "You mean well, I have no doubt; and, I thank you for your good wishes. But if ever you speak to me again on such a subject, I must change my opinion of you and look upon you as any thing but a friend. I am a very unprotected 'woman; and if, through your means, any disrespectful reports should be raised against me in this neighbourhood, my only resource must be, to leave it at once and seek some other residence where I may be allowed to live without insult."

This was the longest speech that ever was heard from Mrs. Smith since her residence in Dunasker; and the purport of it sounded so melancholy to Antony, that the tears started to his eyes, as he protested that the tongue should drop out of his head before he would be tempted to utter one word about the match to Mr. M'Cracken, or any body else with a head upon their shoulders; that he would not even think of it to himself if he could help it; and that she might live and die to her own satisfaction without a word of advice from him, if she lost herself entirely.

They parted on better terms than might have been expected from the manner in which his good offices were rejected. Mrs. Smith promised to forgive on his repeated assurances of secrecy; and, although he felt greatly disappointed at the failure of his welldigested plan, yet she rather rose in his estimation by the magnanimity evinced in her rejection of such a man as Mr. M'Cracken.

Ansty was waiting for her at the door in great tremor of spirits, occasioned by an adventure of her own, during the time of her mistress's absence. She was in such a hurry to tell her story that she began at the end; and in the true Irish style, proceeded backwards, so confusedly, as to be well nigh unintelligible. All that Mrs. Smith could collect for the first quarter of an hour was to the following effect: That the book was put into her hand, and swear she must; that the ould captain abused her to no end, and was like a father to her; that Master William spoke all, and Robert Kinkaid talked right-a-head like any gentleman; that Bryan was as white as a sheet-the colour of any thingthe dog got his own, and was ordered a log; the milk could never be drunk after the usage it got, so it might as well be spilt. Her own little finger VOL. X.

was smashed; Mr. Kinkaid's jacket tore; the poliss mad; the street frightened out of its senses, and Master William the most wonderful man next to Robert Kinkaid.

After giving a very patient and attentive hearing to three repetitions of the story, Mrs. Smith put together all the different circumstances, so as to understand pretty clearly the whole of the adventure. It appeared that Ansty, on her return from the dairy, with a pint of milk, was attacked by Bryan Garaway, who insisted on having a romp with her. She never liked romping, particularly with such a playfellow, and endeavoured to escape from him; but in vain. In the struggle which ensued, he, without intending it, as he offered to swear, washed his dirty hands in the milk-jug; the contents of which were, forthwith, sent right into his face, with full intent and purpose, as she acknowledged to the magistrates, adding the wish that it was a churn full for his sake. Mr. Garaway's good humour gave way under this unwelcome ablution; and the Girra Caille would have experienced even rougher treatment than horse play at his hands had not Robert Kinkaid, a tall, handsome, young, police-constable come to her assistance, just as her only weapon of defence, the milk-jug, aimed at Garaway's head, was broken in an unavailing blow on the shoulder. His interference only served to exasperate the nailer, who immediately let go his hold of the girl to grapple with her defender. Left to fair play, Kinkaid was on pretty equal terms with his antagonist; but the police are, in general, very far from being favourites with the rabble, and a crowd immediately collected to take the part of Garaway, and to give the pecler a hearty threshing. Robert had already received some well directed blows on the back of his head, when another tall, handsome, young man forced his way through the crowd, by the united aid of legs and arms, moving rapidly in all directions, and seized the nailer by the collar, with a grasp that sent the blood mounting rapidly into his cheeks. Insubordination had not received so much encouragement in Dunasker as in many other parts of Ireland; the people, therefore, were not prepared to resist all authority; and Mr. Somerville, who was son to the most active magistrate in the county, met with no opposition, either in taking Garaway prisoner; or while conducting him to his father's

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