him, and I in my window seat, with the tea table drawn up before me, on which stood the steaming urn, the new snowy twist, and fresh butter, with some nice little relishing dish-I forget whatwhich I usually provided for my dear brother's tea after the fatigues of the day. I don't think one ever enjoys a meal half so much as a comfortable family tea; there is something so friendly, so sociable in it. And so we settled ourselves very agreeably-I, quite full of my new friends, and he, with his feet up on a chair, in a remarkably quiescent mood-for him, for he was rather tired, and prepared to listen. Had he not been tired, the case would probably have been reversed - he the talker-I the listener.

*

* "And she looks almost as ill as her brother, Cuthbert," I said, in continuation of my monologue, for thus far had I spoken, but answer made he none. "She is very pale—is her health really so very delicate? I think I recollect your once saying something of the kind."

He looked up absently. "Whose health?" he asked.

"Whose?' why Miss Wilson's, to be sure: 'Lotty's,' as her brother calls her. Have I not been preaching to you about her this half-hour! Is she in ill health ?"

He seemed lost in thought again, and presently said, absently," Ill! to be sure-of course-poor fellow-who could doubt it for a moment?"

I fairly burst out laughing then, which decidedly broke the spell, for he joined in it most heartily, and said that, though Miss Wilson did. not look strong, he had never heard her complain, but that he thought, from what her mother had dropped, she must have undergone a good deal of anxiety and fatigue, at some time or other, during the illness of some of the members of their family. And now her attendance on her brother-whom she had watched over night and day since his first attack, having had a couch brought down for herself into a small room adjoining his, and allowing no one to do anything for him but herself— had rather knocked her up.

"Now do tell me," I said, "something more about these attacks-you know, it is very rarely I ask about a patient of yours, but the case seems something so extraordinary."

"I can only say it is extraordinary, very much so, indeed, Maggie; and I do not see any reason for not speaking about it to you, because, I think you may, ere long, have an opportunity, not only of seeing the lad during an attack, but of cheering the poor mother and sister with your presence.

No one knows better than you do, old woman, how to console the sorrowful, or smooth the pillow of the sick and suffering, and something tells me you have work before you at Emerald Bank, Maggie."

It was seldom my brother spoke so gravely, although I am certain that many a night he would lie awake in anxious meditation when any case of doubt or difficulty came under his

care.

He was naturally one of the most happy-tempered, light-hearted beings I ever knew; so kind, so good, so honourable in every thought and action of his life, that, to know him as I did, and not to love him, was next to impossible.

He was not regularly handsome, but he had a fine open brow, expressive dark grey eyes, and teeth of pearly whiteness, added to which was a figure above the average height, well knit together and nerved for strength and activity. Though full of life and spirits when nothing pressed upon his mind to subdue them, yet, when any circumstance occurred requiring deep consideration, never was there cooler head or more deliberate judgment, proving the full powers and energy of his mind. But the best of human creatures can never, alas, be

perfect. And it is with deep sorrow that I feel it necessary, to the carrying on of my tale, to confess that this, my beloved, my otherwise (in my eyes) faultless brother, was defective in one point, one essential vital point, which, to speak upon even now, though years and years have since rolled away into the gulph of eternity, always brings a tear to my eye.

Cuthbert was not a religious man, good and unimpeachable as was his conduct in morality, in charity, in every one of the relations of life. Yet his leading star was not that of Revelation. He would not seek for guidance in the words of Holy Writ, but trusted, as it were, to his own natural sense of honour and rectitude. You may perhaps exclaim, "Impossible! How could so good a man, possessing every moral virtue be otherwise than religious?" I can only assure you that such was the case. From whence the mischief arose I know not, although I always suspected that the seeds of distrust and disbelief were sown during the time he was a medical student, if what I have heard of the levity indulged in at the medical schools be correct.

However, having made this painful disclosure, which coming events rendered necessary, let us now return to that pleasant evening when we

two were sitting in happy converse over our tea table.

I had not yet exhausted my subject, so I went on asking questions, while Cuthbert ate his bread and butter, and petted Juno.

"And did you never hear how long Mrs. Wilson has been a widow, and what her husband was, and when he died ?" I asked.

"Patience, patience, my Maggie; curiosity you know is the characteristic of birds of your feather? At any rate, one question at a time, if you please."

"Well, then, answer the first?"

"I don't know."

"The second ? "

"I never heard."

"The third?"

"I can't say.

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6

Oh, Cuthbert, what a thorough doctor you are, don't know' anything. I was not asking about their infirmities. Well, it is the safe side certainly; but you see a good deal of them no doubt. Is Mrs. Wilson a very old lady, then ?"

"Oh! ha, ha, of all questions to put to a man! a lady's age. But I don't suppose she would care if I guessed her over sixty."

"And a pleasant agreeable person?"