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at the head of the table, he managed, D. with an indignant refusal and a pointed with tolerable composure, to carve the remonstance. Then followed a series of shoulder of mutton without aid from his insults and persecutions, some covert and wife.

some open, heaped unmercifully upon the Mr. D. was a professional gentleman, poor orphan. with a good practice, and a growing fa- At length, lashed to madness by her mily. Emily Taylor was the daughter of own unworthy suspicions, Mrs. D., in a an old friend, lately deceased, and her coterie of female friends, let drop hints only portion was character, education, which eagerly received, highly magnified, and a considerable share of beauty. She and industriously reported, touched the had been trained for tuition, and at her reputation of her husband, and sullied father's death, was eighteen years of age. the fair fame of the poor fatherless girl At that very time, Mr. D. was looking with a foul blot. Years of suffering innoout for a governess for his children ; and cence followed, closed at length by an it was the most natural thing in the early death from blighted hopes and a world for his thoughts to turn to the broken heart. orphan child of his poor friend.

“ This is your work,” said Mr. D., as And Mrs. D. bad agreed to this, al. he handed across the breakfast-table to though, as she said, she should like to his wife a black-bordered letter, from have seen the young woman first. But Emily's almost distracted mother, an. as “the young woman was at that time nouncing the sad intelligence :-“This is in Devonshire, and Mrs. D. in Norfolk, your work. Rejoice in it!" this was impracticable, and the engagement was accordingly made by letter. We turn, with lightened feelings, from But bitterly did Mrs. D. regret having this tale of Conjugal Suspicion, to one of given her consent, the very first evening Conjugal Confidence. after the arrival of the young governess. Some years ago, we visited a worthy She was

“too handsome by half.” And friend in shire, and and during our then, the next morning, to be told to her stay, he related the following passage in face that the girl was very interest. his life, which pleased us mightily, as exing," and that by her own husband, who emplifying the truth that, though Dehad no business to have eyes and ears for traction, with its thousand tongues, is any other woman besides herself :-it was powerful and withering in its baneful plain where it all would end.

operations, yet that truth and honesty Whatever the end might be in Mrs. are still potent in their restorative virtue; D.'s imagination, it was, in reality, a very that a simple and straightforward, mournful one. We do not wish to make though silent rebuke, will often put to a long story of it, though the materials shame the ignorance of the foolish ; that for a long story are tempting ;-an out- woman's wit, rightly applied, will often line will suit our purpose, and here it find resources when nothing else can is :

avail; and that, above all, Conjugal Con. Poor Emily soon gained the affections fidence is invaluable to Domestic Hapof her young pupils, by her kind and piness. loving temper, and the cordial respect of Our friend —, but he shall tell his her friend Mr. D. But, in proportion to own story. these was she subjected to the jealous dis- “ I was once,” said he, “on the point like of Mrs. D. At first this dislike was of losing my business and my character shown in perpetual ill-temper, and in together, by a malicious report that was ceaseless vigilance. Not a kind word, spread abroad in the neighbourhood ; and tror approving smile, nor pitying glance should have done so entirely, but for the of her husband towards his young ward, good fidelity and moral courage of my but was noted down in her memory. excellent wife. Then came an angry demand for Emily's “I was returning, one summer evening, instant dismissal, which was met by Mr. from a village some miles off. It had been a very hot day, and the night was still was taken up in explaining to her friends sultry, so I walked slowly to avoid over the reason of her delay, it was nearly heating myself, until it grew late and midnight before I reached my own house. somewhat dark. I had got about half “ You may think, my friend, that my way homeward, and was on the most wife was a little alarmed at my absence, lonely part of the road, when I heard a and was not a little curious, as was slight moaning, as though proceeding natural, to know what had kept me out from the bank on my right hand. I so late. But when I told her just as stopped and listened, and the noise was I have told you now-what had haprepeated; upon which I cautiously-for pened, she said that I had done quite I certaiuly was startled-drew near to right—that I could not have done any the place to discover the cause. This was other,—and that she hoped the poor girl only the work of a minute, for there, would be none the worse for her advenbeneath the hedge, lay a female, evidently ture. in a state of insensibility. Some poor “But it did not end here, Sir. It so drunken wretch, I thought to myself; happened, that while I was busy with but whatever may be her fault, I will not the poor girl, a man had passed by withpass by on the other side, like the Levite out my knowing it. It seems that he in the parable; she will catch cold, if not knew me by my voice, and, without stoptake her death, with the night air; I ping to find out what was the matter, must do what I can to help her. But but supplying what was wanting in the this was no easy matter, I assure you, for evidence of his senses, by his own wicked I am a little man, you see, and the poor imagination, he went away in high glee, creature was none of the slightest, and with a fine story ready for everybody who had no power to help herself in any de- would listen to it, about the old methodist gree.

C-being no better than other folks, “Well, Sir, I raised her up, bit by bit; and not half so good as he should be. and then I saw that I knew her : she “Well, this was not all ; for on going was the daughter of a small farmer in the into the village with the poor girl (the village I had just left, and had a rather moon was up, and shining bright by that heavy parcel of goods with her, which I time) we were met by a woman of the supposed she might have been to our place, who looked at us pretty sharply, town to purchase.

wondering, as she afterwards said, what “Well,' I thought, she is not the sort old C- - and Nanny H- could be of person to be overtaken with liquor ; together for at such a time of night. what can be the matter with her ? So, And so, in short, this and that were put I began to untie her bonnet strings, and together, and the report--made worse to fan her face, and, in short, to use all and worse by repeating, of course-spread the means I could think of, for bringing like wild-fire, before I was aware that a her to herself.

si ngle soul except ourselves and the “After a while, this succeeded, and girl's friends, and my own wife, knew of then she told me that she had been to the the adventure. town,—had been there great part of the « But I soon found out that there was day, without taking any refreshment, and something wrong. A day or two after. that, on her way home, she had felt very wards, some of my neighbours turned tired and faint, and had sat herself down their heads away as they passed my shop by the roadside to rest. She supposed door, and, instead of stopping to say she must have fainted, but she recollected Good morning, Mr. C- A fine nothing else that had happened to her. day, neighbour,' or ' How goes the world

“When she had sufficiently recovered, your way they hurried by, as if I had Sir, I helped her to tie on her bonnet, and got the plague about me. insisted on accompanying her home. I “ The next day, matters were worse. did so, but she could walk but slowly, I had to go down the street, and was and what with that, and the time that hooted by the men in the blacksmith's

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shop, and had a great lump of foul dirt “ " Never mind, Stephen,' she said ; thrown at me from a passage; and I you have done nothing to be ashamed could not but notice that all the respect- of, and there will be some way found out able townfolk that were about, walked for your deliverance.' across the street before I came up to “I think,' said I, 'I had better get them, or popped into the shops that hap- the poor girl to go to the mayor, and pened to lie between us, All this was swear to the truth.' strange to me, and I began to wonder ““You shall do no such thing, Stewhat could be the meaning of it.

phen,' she replied ; leave it to me, and I “ The day after this was market-day; will see what I can do.' So, with that, and it had always been a busy day with our conversation dropped; though what me. But, somehow or other, I found that my poor wife would or could do, I could my shop, that day, was almost deserted. not guess. My wife was looked upon strangely, too, “The next day was market-day again, when she went into the market. She and I awoke with a heavy heart. I was heard the market people say, as she surprised to find that my wife was up passed — Poor woman! poor creature ! before me, and more so when I went I wonder she can bear up so,' and other down stairs, to be told by our servant things of a like nature. Well,' thought that her mistress went out by five o'clock, we, 'what can be the matter?'

and had left word that she should be in “Another day solved the mystery. I to breakfast. was sitting in my shop, melancholy “ Eight o'clock came, and so did my enough, and wondering what these things wife, and who with her but poor Nanny could mean, when who should come in H-! Well, I said nothing; and after but our worthy minister and one of our prayer, as usual, we all sat down to breakdeacons. They wanted some private fast. As soon as that was over, my good conversation with me, they said ! and I wife said to Nanny, ‘Come, my dear, we took them into my parlour, where they must be stirring.' laid the whole matter before me, just as “« Where?" I asked. they had heard it reported. You may Oh, never mind,' said she; ‘all will think first; be right

but I soon went and called my good witė

, bet And what do you think they did,

and, after telling her, in their presence, Sir? Why, they walked, arm in arm, what I had just heard, I asked her to down the street, and up the street, and repeat my version of the transaction to through all the streets in the town; and them. This she did, with great spirit they went into almost or quite all the and goodwill; and they went away satis- shops in the place; and my wife bought fied, and determined to bear me through, a trifle here and a trile there, just for in spite of all that was said to my dis- the sake of showing herself, and what credit. But, bless you, the slander had company she was in ; and then they got such firm hold of the people's minds, walked arm in arm again, like two sisters, that all they got for their kindness was through the market, and went to every the old proverb-' 'Tis an ill bird that stall. This took them till dinner time, befouls its own nest.'

and they came in—my wife smiling, and “In the mean time my business fell off the young girl blushing—and had a bit more and more every day; and my neigh- | to eat. They then went out again, and bours looked as cool as ever. I could not go walked through the town in the same out of doors without being insulted; and fashion as before, my wife taking care to my name, along with poor Nanny's, was stop and speak to every person she knew; chalked on every dead wall in the parish. and this took them up till tea time. By Sure enough, I was at my wits' end. that time, dear heart, if my shop was

“Oh, dear wife! what shall I do? I not as full customers as it had ever groaned one night; "this will surely be been! our ruin !

“. And now, Stephen,' said she, when for supper.

we had taken a cup of tea, ‘you must put

CHARACTERISTICS OF THE LATE on your hat and go with us. «i« Where?' I asked.

SIR HENRY HAVELOCK. “Where!' said she; 'why, home with

AS MAN AND SOLDIER. Miss H-, to be sure.'

“* But,' said I, 'the shop is full of cus- FORCED by circumstances to embrace tomers.'

the profession of arms, an honourable “Never mind the customers to-day,' ambition led him to aspire to the highest she answered; "leave them to the shop- distinction in it. By dint of severe appliman and apprentice for once ; for go with cation he obtained a complete mastery of us you must.'

the art of war. Nature had pre-eminently “So there was no help for it; and I endowed him, among other military gifts, put on my hat, and walked out with with a talent for strategy. In youth he them, one on each arm. We had to walk delighted to marshal his mimic battalions, quite through the town, and everybody and fight the battles of Napoleon over stared at us mightily; but not a word again. This gift was improved by study. was said, good or bad; and we got the So familiar was he with the evolutions of poor girl home, and came back in time great commanders, that whatever com

bination was required during the events There!' said my wife, when we got of the day, he could at once call to mind, in, let them say what they like now. for his own guidance, the course they Dear creature! but she was tired out, had pursued under similar circumstances. though, with her day's work.”

Hence he was never staggered by any “* And what was the result?' we difficulty, however unexpected, and was asked.

prepared for every emergency. He pos**Oh, said our friend, we never heard sessed what was considered by - Napoleon any

ý more of the matter--that is, any whose maxims were his favourite mamore that was 'hurtful. For one thing, nual - the first qualification of a general, our young friend "regained her good “a clear head." His perception was quick, name, and as for myself, the very next and he possessed the peculiar quality of morning all the chalk' was rubbed clean judging soundly while he thought rapidly. off from the walls ; and my neighbours Amidst the din and confusion of battle, all came in and shook hands with me, he was, if possible, more 'cool, collected, and gave me joy for having such a kind, and imperturbable than in ordinary cirtrusting wife. The next market-day'my cumstances, and though often taciturn in shop was thronged with customers, and society, was remarked to be chatty and so it was the next to that, and the next'; cheerful under fire. - The most prominent and I was obliged to get another shop- feature in his military character was his man,

business kept increasing. self-reliance. He courteously accepted the So you see, Sir, how it comes to páss, in advice and suggestions of others, though one way or another, that 'A gracious his inferiors, but he never doubted for a woman retaineth honour Lher own and moment the soundness of his own decision, her husband's too; and that · Every wise and he was thus enabled always to act with woman buildeth her house, while the vigour and promptitude. foolish plucketh it down with her He was, in Carlyles phrase, an "earnést hands:

mári," and he possessed, in a singular de

gree, the power of communicating his own THE BODY AVENGED.-By too much sitting earnestness to others. His enthusiasm still the body becomes unhealthy, and soon the infected all those under him, and there mind. This is Nature's law. She will never see her children wronged. If the mind which rules was no danger his men would not enthe body ever forgets itself so far as to trample counter when animated by the clear tones upon its slave, the slave is never generous enough of his voice or a glance of his eagle eye. oppressor. Thus has many a monarch mind been Every man felt that he was acting under Jethroned.-Longfellow.

the eye of a master spirit, whose appro

because my

bation, from being rarely, and never there could be no diversity of opinion. undeservedly, bestowed, was the most There was more moral courage in assemvaluable reward he could desire. The bling his men to read the Bible and to unbounded confidence which his soldiers sing psalms, amidst the jeers of his brother felt in him inspired them with confidence officers, than in leading them to storm a in themselves. Even at the most difficult battery, amidst the bullets of the enemy. crisis he exhibited an example of serenity It demanded more moral courage to reand calmness which buoyed up and in- linquish the advance on Lucknow than it spirited others. Though by nature of a required of personal courage to face the fiery temper, he had acquired, under the greatest dangers in prosecuting it. In influence of religious principle and by both cases he was actuated by a predomiconscientious habit, a spirit of self-control nant sense of duty. His moral courage which nothing could disturb. His personal was proof against any adverse opinion. endurance of hardships was untlinehing; When he felt himself in the path of right, and nothing served more to attach the everything else was a matter of indiffermen to him, in spite of his stern and un- ence to him. He invariably maintained compromising character, than the constant that if it were right to do a thing, it was evidence that the self-denial he exacted of right to face all its consequences. This others he invariably practised himself. sense of duty was the pole star of his course Always a strict, and sometimes a stern through life. He had brought bimself disciplinarian, by some he was deemed to 'so habitually to act under the influence of err in being too severe in his exactions this high principle, that his private feelfrom those under his command. Yet, if ings, tastes, and inclinations, and his he did not spare them when duty required personal comfort and convenience, became the sacrifice, neither did he spare himself; entirely subordinate to it. He was not inand no general ever took greater pre- sensible to military distinction; he valued cautions to husband the strength of his more than most men the honours earned soldiers, or to prevent a needless waste of by military virtue and success, but even life, or more diligently strove to alleviate the brightests prospect of the soldier were their sufferings and improve their con- light when weighed in the balance of duty. dition. As an instance of his rigid ad. This imparted to his character that highherence to the rules of military discipline, mindedness and elevation, which gave him it may be stated, that although his son, so great an ascendancy over others. It Lieut. Havelock, as Sir James Outram was the conviction that he was a

man of remarked, had afforded valuable assistance principle” which gained for him the conto the General in the operations of the fidence of others, whether above or below 16th and 17th, and was severely wounded him, quite as much as his high professional on the latter day, his father never men- qualifications. tioned him in his despatch with the rest of the staff, and would not permit HAVELOCK'S MIND AND PERSON. his name to be entered in the list of casualties, because he was not then Havelock was a man of thought as well officially released from the surgeon's list. as action. He was well read in English Havelock never displayed any impatience literature, and inore particularly in history. of authority. The implicit obedience he His English style was pure and classical, exacted from those under him he un- and his dispatches were models of military hesitatingly accorded to his own supe- composition. To his knowledge of the riors. Hence his orders were ever cheer- ancient classics, which he continued to fully obeyed.

cultivate through life, he added a fair

acquaintance with French and Italian, HIS MORAL COURAGE.

acquired by study, and improved during

his continental tour. He possessed a most Regarding the higher and more im- retentive memory, great powers of reason. portant quality of moral courage, however, ing, a ready wit, and a natural aptitude

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