Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

have roughed it in my time, I never roughed it so much as on that occasion, and that I shall never forget the rattling he gave me along that causeway. I have sometimes thought it was all done to revenge himself for my steering of the little Heiterkeit across the Weser from Bremerhaven.

LEUCHTENBERG.

A short time after my arrival in Lesmona, I was invited to take part in a little excursion-a place called Leuchtenberg being our destination. It is only about three miles from Lesmona. We set out to the number of ten or twelve, an amiable matron being our commander, and the young ladies carrying baskets with cakes and other eatables. In my ignorance of Lesmona manners, I offered to relieve them of their burdens (by signs, be it understood, for I could not then speak the language), but one after another rejected my services with surprise, and even, it struck me, with something like suspicion.

THE THEORY, PRACTICE, AND CAPABILITIES

OF INSURANCE.

CHAP. XVIII.-FIRE INSURANCE.

Ir it be the reasonable duty of every man to insure his life, for the sake of his wife and children, or of those dependent on his health and existence for their maintenance, not less is he exhibiting a necessary prudence in insuring his property against the contingency of destruction by fire. Death, it is true, happens to all men; fire affects only a few; but whom it may affect we know not, and the annual expense is so very trifling, being barely one twelfth per cent. on the value of the property protected, that the neglect of so simple and economical a precaution is truly reprehensible. It is estimated that, on an average, more than two fires take place every night in the city of London. Perhaps, no more cogent circumstance could be urged to show the vast importance and the obvious duty of fire insurance in large towns; while, at the same time, we need hardly observe, that farm property and country houses have their own peculiar characteristics of risk; and, if less liable to the communication of fire, are more exposed to absolute destruction, if once attacked.

We kept the highway for some time, and then struck off into a country road, which soon brought us into some very picturesque scenery: it is the only scenery in the vicinity of Lesmona which has any pretensions to the title. I often returned thither, for, after the dreary flats and the uniform dykes, which were all that met the eye elsewhere, the village and valley, the castle and undulating woods of Schönebeck, were indeed pleasant to look upon. We arrived at Leuchtenberg, which I found was a solitary inn on the borders of the wood. Beside it was a fine green, as smooth almost as a bowling-green, and under the trees were chairs and tables. Here we established ourselves; and, having procured coffee from the house and cakes from the baskets, we ate and sipped. This done, we set to play-cuum, and under a high pressure) being impregnated, first ing on the green. I had observed the two boys who accom panied us cutting sticks in a copse near me the previous day, and I now found out what the sticks were for. Wo ranged ourselves round the perimeter of the green, each with a stick in his or her hand, and two or three hoops being produced, were thrown from one to another round and round, being delivered with ease to a considerable height or distance by a jerk of the arm and wrist. Next we had a running game. Each gentleman chooses a lady as his partner, and takes her hand. One couple then run out, the others pursue; there is much scampering about, and also much whirling and wheeling, for, except in certain eventualities, you must not disjoin hands. The game, in short, is a kind of double prison bars or prisoner's base. I found myself the great object of attraction, being pursued much more frequently than was fair. But having long legs, and my partner, though tall, being light, we came off pretty well. Then we had forfeits, and here my ignorance of the language availed me much, for, when I had a forfeit, they never could explain to me what I was to do. Once an ingenious youth, in order to make me understand, did the ridiculous thing I was ordered to perform, but he got so laughed at for his pains, that the experiment was not repeated.

After a short stroll in the wood, into which the young ladies would not venture far, for fear of losing themselves, we prepared to return. First, however, I had an adventure, which caused much mirth at my expense. One of the boys had thrown up his cap, and it had stuck pretty high in the branches of a tree; we threw sticks at it, but could not get it down. Then we got a table, placed a chair upon it, and on this scaffolding I, as the tallest, mounted, armed with a pole. The pole was too short by just about two inches, which finding, I gave a little jump on the chair to supply the deficiency. The consequence was, that the cap came down on the table, and that the chair and I came down on the ground. This, of course, caused no little hilarity, which, however, immediately gave place to as much solicitude as to my being hurt, as if I had fallen from Apollo's chariot.

Such are the simple pleasures of a German village. It does not seem too simple to them. We had enjoyed ourselves heartily, and my companions talked for a week of our Leuchtenberg excursion.

Science has, within a short period, not unsuccessfully endeavoured to establish a preventive, as well as a cure, for this formidable evil. One process, which has been extensively adopted by government and public bodies, not only preserves timber from dry-rot, and other ordinary destructive agencies, but guarantees it from inflammability-from imparting or communicating flame; the wood (in a vawith muriate of lime, and then with an aluminous solution, of which the chemical action transmutes the timber, so to speak, into an almost imperishable substance, impervious to rot or insects, as well as to flame. This process bears the name of Mr Payne, the practical chemist, and has been frequently tested. Another process may be referred to, not less valuable as a remedy, than the former as a preA mixture of nitre, charcoal, and gypsum is, by ventive. a simple and portable apparatus, suddenly converted into a vapour by sulphuric acid and chlorate of potass; and the fiercest flame, even that of a pool or trough of gas tar and turpentine, has been in this manner suddenly arrested. The expense of both preparations, we believe, is comparatively trifling; and their use would tend greatly to reduce one of the most formidable risks of property and life by land and sea, not, however, rendering fire assurance less necessary to the individual, or less profitable to the insurance companies, but less expensive and infinitely more general. For, with the reduction of risk, and consequent reduction of premium, the reduction of the government duty would necessarily follow, and fire insurance, instead of being confined merely to the most thoughtful and prudent classes, would become a cheap and universal practice on the part of the community.

CHAP. XIX.-DIRECTIONS FOR EFFECTING A PIRE INSURANCE.

There are various important conditions attached to a fire insurance contract which ought to be well known and carefully attended to. One of the most imperative of these is the classification and separation of risks according to the nature and exposure of the property to be protected. Thus, in the most ordinary sort of insurance, that of furniture, it must be observed that this term, in general, is only held to embrace household goods, wearing apparel, bed and table linen, printed books, plate, and wine and liquors in private use. Articles of peculiar value, or of peculiar fragility, must be specifically insured under another head, and at a higher premium, such as musical instruments, pictures and prints, jewels and ornaments, china and glass. Again, as respects the risk attached to different kinds of buildings and manufactories: Buildings of stone or brick, with partition-walls of the same materials, and wherein no hazardous goods are deposited, or hazardous trades conducted, are considered as of ordinary risk, and may be

generally insured at about 1s. 6d. per cent. The second class of risk, which is termed hazardous, comprises buildings of stone or brick of the first class, where hazardous goods are deposited, or hazardous trades carried on; and hazardous buildings, viz., stone or brick buildings not having stone and brick partition-walls, and timber or plastered buildings. In the third class, or doubly hazardous, are embraced thatched buildings, and hazardous buildings of the second class, to which is attached the risk of hazardous goods or trades.

Any peculiar arrangement as regards stoves or furnaces, or the mode of heating apartments, &c., ought to be set forth; in like manner, also, as in a life policy, it is necessary to specify anything peculiarly affecting the health or constitution. In like manner, also, any important alteration in such particulars must be from time to time communicated to the office; and, in case of removal of goods, either in whole or in part, notice of such removal must also be given. The neglect of any of these particulars might vitiate the policy, and exonerate the office in the event of loss.

CHAP. XX.-INPOLICY OF THE HEAVY GOVERNMENT DUTY ON

FIRE INSURANCE.

The wisdom of parliament hath thought meet to tax the prudent man 200 per cent. on the amount of premium he pays to an insurance company, to protect his property against losses arising from fire. Of the annual sum (four shillings and sixpence) paid for insuring £100 of property, three shillings go into the government exchequer. This is certainly the perfection of legislative sagacity.

CHAP. XXI.-ACCIDENT ASSURANCE.

It is hardly credible, as regards the law of salvage, that a man who saves a portmanteau from a wreck may claim a pecuniary reward, while to rescue a fellow-creature, even if that fellow-creature should be a legislator, he can claim nothing. We smile at the story of the poor woman who had borrowed a carpet-bag from an unwilling neighbour for the use of her husband on a voyage, and who, on learning he had been unfortunately drowned, feelingly exclaimed, What a row there will be about that bag!' But is not this the very principle at the bottom of this salvage, or rather savage legislation, and the spirit of which too much characterises our general practice as regards the punishment of offences against property, as compared with those against the person. The alteration of the law of deodands, and Lord Campbell's act for assessing compensation in case of railway accidents, betoken, however, a new interest in these matters on the part of parliament.

What legislation has not cared to provide for has been attempted by private enterprise, so far, at least, as regards indemnity to the friends of those who may perish or suffer injury by accident, whether on land or sea. An association has lately been established to provide compensation for injuries and deaths resulting from the extraordinary contingencies of railway travelling-to extend the application of assurance principles to railway casualties. The subject is one of great importance, not only as regards the indemnification insured to the public, but the interest of railway proprietors and railway officers. The objects secured by the company will be, a provision for the families of railway officers and servants, and more adequate compensation to the families of railway travellers, in the event of death and accidents. To carry out these objects, it has been found, by the calculations of Mr Neison, that the risk of assuring £1000 in case of death by railway accidents during the whole of life, can be covered by a charge of two guineas, and so in proportion for assurances of other amounts. We cordially concur in the opinion, that the subject is now-a-days one of very great importance. We believe that the body of commercial travellers embraces upwards of 30,000 persons, constantly in the habit of travelling by railways, and who, even at a much higher premium than that charged, would surely hail with satisfaction such a means of securing their families, in the event of any of those extraordinary contingencies to which all railrance Company carry still farther the principle of creating an average for such exceptional cases, and insure a fixed sum against every description of death by accident or violence; and, combined with this, at an increased rate of premium, a proportionate amount of compensation in certain cases of personal injury; and also offer the option, forming the exclusive business of the Railway Assurance Company, of insuring simply against railway accidents. It is calculated that, on an average, three fires occur every night in London; and this has been held as a sufficient reason and argument for every sensible and prudent man to insure his furniture against fire. The number of accidents, fatal and otherwise, which take place every day must greatly exceed this average; and when we consider the special casualties to which certain classes are exposed all over the country-miners, colliers, manufacturers, builders, &c.—the application of the beneficial principle of assurance to this subject seems obvious and legitimate. It is, indeed, simply extending to personal accidents a principle of action universally appreciated in respect to property; with this additional inducement, that an accident to the person may involve a whole family in penury, which is only the case from the most destructive conflagration as respects the loss of property by fire.

It is strange that a question so interesting, were it rightly estimated, to the careful and prudent among all classes of the community, has not been more zealously canvassed, and more industriously urged upon general attention and the consideration of statesmen. To us, living in the middle of this tolerably wise and educated nineteenth century, it does appear matter of wonder that government should with absolute impunity continue to impose a tax of 200 per cent. upon contributions dictated by a wise and commendable foresight; and towards which, if government interfere at all, it should rather generously supply a bonus, with the view of encouragement. The premium for insuring £100 worth of furniture, or of other property, where there is no peculiar risk, is about one shilling and sixpence. The government duty is an annual fine of 3s. on the same amount. In hazardous occupations, where there is gene-way travellers are exposed. The Accidental Death Insurally a large capital embarked, this proportion is reduced in a great ratio, as the duty remains stationary, however the premium may increase in amount. But the ordinary case is the more important, and the hardship there not only more conspicuous, but more universally felt. A tax upon every pound of bread consumed in a family would be less iniquitous and less impolitic; for, however unfair a criterion of taxability the consumption of that prime commodity, in the one case we should have a tax upon a physical obligation borne alike by all, in the other case we have a tax upon a moral obligation discharged only by the more economical and provident part of the community. We do not understand why a similarly enormous tax is not levied upon life assurance. Why should the man who pays one shilling and sixpence to protect his moveable propertysometimes the sole possession of himself and family-from the risk of fire, be taxed 200 per cent. per annum, and the prudent husband, who insures his life to the extent of £100, and pays £3 of annual premium, not to be called upon in the same manner to pay £6 a-year more to the state for thus mistrusting Providence by forestalling his legitimate savings? Surely, if the precedent of taxing prudence and virtue be a right one and a profitable one, it could not be acted upon too extensively; and, perhaps, a duty upon education, in the shape of ten shillings per head for every boy sent to school, a tax upon charity and benevolence, tax upon talent and genius, wherever exercised for the benefit of humanity, might not be unremunerative. But perhaps we do contrive, in one shape or other, to tax all these things.

a

CHAP. XXII.- —(CONCLUSION)—SEA INSURANCE. Sea insurance, or marine or maritime insurance, is the contract by which the insurer agrees to make good to the shipowner or merchant the damage or loss his ship or goods may sustain at sea from fire or shipwreck, or other

'perils of the deep.' The company or individuals thus guaranteeing, are termed the underwriters. This application of the insurance principle was, like the art of bookkeeping by double entry, introduced into England by the Italians, in the time of George I., and a monopoly was soon after given to two companies (the Royal Exchange and London) for marine insurance, and bottomry, or the lending of money on the chance of the safe voyage of a vessel. We need hardly say that this monopoly does not now exist. This kind of insurance is almost invariably effected by the broker, or middleman between the parties.

THE GOOD ANGELS.

'COME, Ady and Jane, it's time you were in bed,' said Mrs Freeman to her two little daughters about nine o'clock one evening. Ady was nine years old, and Jane was a year and a half younger. The two children had been sitting at the work-table with their mother, one of them studying her lesson, and the other engaged on a piece of fancy needlework.

Papa hasn't come home yet,' answered Ady. 'No, dear, but it's getting late, and it is time you were in bed. He may not be home for an hour.' Ady laid aside her work, and left the table, and Jane closed her books, and put them away in her school satchel. You can light the lamp on the mantel-piece,' said Mrs Freeman, after a few moments, and looking around as she spoke, she saw the children had both put on their bonnets, and were tying their warm capes close about their necks. She understood well the meaning of this, and therefore did not ask a question, although the tears came to her eyes, and her voice trembled as she said

It is illegal to effect an insurance on a vessel in which the insured has not a real interest; this offence is called the effecting of a wager policy. But any one may be insured to the extent of the interest he has, whether as respects the actual freight or amount of money advanced on bottomry, as above explained, or on the amount of risk to which he is exposed, whether directly or indirectly, from the voyage. In illustration of this point, we may state that it is illegal to insure seamen's wages; for it is held that, were the mariner thus secured of his pay, independently of his own exertions, the stimulus to exertion wouldIt is very cold to-night, children.' be removed, and the public suffer loss.

There are some great peculiarities in the form of a marine insurance policy; one of these being a most extraordinary amount of bad grammar in the antique printed form, which is remarkable for the nice derangement of epitaphs.' There are two kinds of policies; one in which the real value of the goods insured is left an open question in case a loss should arise; the other, in which the value is set forth as estimated by mutual agreement. The former is an open policy; the latter a valued policy, which is generally, for obvious reasons, effected at a higher premium

than the other.

The main points in the policy are-the name of the insured and of his ship; the description of goods, and interest secured; the voyage to be pursued, and the dangers to be anticipated. It is very important that the nature and extent of the actual interest of the insured should be accurately set forth. The voyage, too, must be specifically described, and the times of departure and probable arrival, duration, &c., embraced in the policy. The contract is at an end between the parties when the vessel has been moored for twenty-four hours, in what is technically called good safety;' that is to say, after the vessel has arrived in a condition not affected detrimentally by the voyage, and for one day thereafter. But this, and many other most material conditions of the contract, it would be out of place in a popular treatise to enlarge upon.

The risks insured against are very various; shipwreck, war, fire, piracy, jettisons, barratry, and all other detriment that may accrue. Jettison is the necessary throwing of goods overboard to lighten the ship, in a storm, for example, or to escape an enemy. Barratry (a word derived from the Italian, as the former curious term is from the French) signifies loss by fraud of master or mariners. There are various nice points in a contract like this, on one side and the other, which we have no room to detail, but which a person who insures is bound to have strict regard to. For example, the vessel must sail within a period indicated, and unreasonable delay in this regard will vitiate the policy. In the same way, the vessel must not deviate from her specified course, unless under some imperative necessity to procure provisions, or for the purpose of repairs, &c.; the ship, too, must be seaworthy on the commencement of the voyage.

When a loss takes place, an adjustment between the parties ensues; and thereafter, unless the underwriter contests his liability, indemnification is made to the insured, and the contract is satisfied.

Christ is still crucified between two thieves-Antinomianism and Pharisaism.-Toplady.

We revere classic repose, and the Greek ideal serenity; but we love the Hebrew emotion-it goes direct to the heart.

'But we don't feel it, mother,' replied Ady. We'll run along very quickly.'

As

And the two little ones went out, before their mother, whose feelings were choking her, could say a word. they closed the door after them, and left her alone, she raised her eyes upwards, and murmured—' God bless and reward the dear children.'

The

It was a dark winter night as the little adventurers stepped into the street; the wind swept fiercely along, and almost drove them back into the door. But they caught each other tightly by the hands, and bending their little forms to meet the pressure, hurried on the way they were going as fast as their little feet could move. streets were dark and deserted, but the children were not afraid: love filled their hearts, and left no room for fear. They did not speak a word to each other as they hastened along. After going for a considerable distance, they stopped before a house over the door of which was a handsome ornamental gas-lamp, bearing the words- Oysters and Refreshments.' It was a strange place for two little girls like them to enter at such an hour; but, after standing for a moment, they pushed against the green door, which turned lightly on its hinges, and stepped into a large and brilliantly-lighted bar-room.

Ah!' exclaimed a man who was reading at the table, here are those babes again.'

Ady and Jane stood still near the door, and looked all around the room, but not seeing the object of their search, they went to the bar, and said timidly to a man who stood behind it, pouring liquor into glasses-Has papa been here to-night ?'

The man leaned over the bar until his face was close

to the children, and said in an angry way—' I don't know anything about your father. And see-don't you come here any more. If you do, I'll call my big dog out of the yard and make him bite you.'

Ady and Jane felt frightened as well by the harsh manner as the angry words of the man, and they turned back from him, and were walking towards the door with sad faces, when the person who had first remarked their entrance, called loud enough for them to hear him- Come here, my little girls.'

The children stopped and looked at him, when he beckoned for them to approach, and they did so. 'Are you looking for your father?' he asked. 'Yes, sir,' replied Ady.

'What did the man at the bar say to you?'

'He said that papa was not here; and if we came here any more he would set his big dog on us.' 'He did ?'

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]
[blocks in formation]

My dear sir,' pursued the stranger, 'you have fallen at the hand of the monster intemperance, and I feel that you are in great peril. You have not, however, fallen hopelessly. You may yet rise, if you will. Let me, in

'Yes, he's at the other side of the room. I'll wake the name of the sweet babes who have shown in so wouhim for you.'

Half intoxicated and sound asleep, it was with some difficulty that Mr Freeman could be aroused. As soon, however, as his eyes were fairly opened, and he found Ady and Jane had each grasped one of his hands, he rose up, and, yielding passively to their direction, suffered them to lead him away.

6

'O dear,' exclaimed a man who had looked on with wonder and deep interest, that's a temperance lecture I can't stand. God bless the little ones,' he added, with emotion, and give them a sober father.'

'I guess you never saw them before?' said one of the bar-keepers, lightly.

No, and I never wish to do so again-at least in this place. Who is their father?'

[blocks in formation]

'To see,' said one, 'how passively he yields himself to the little things when they come after him, I feel sometimes, when I see them, almost weak enough to shed tears.' They are his good angels,' remarked another. But I'm afraid they are not strong enough to lead bim back to the paths he has forsaken.'

'You can think what you please about it, gentlemen,' spoke up the landlord, but I can tell you my opinion upon the subject. I wouldn't give much for the mother who would let two little things like them go wandering about the streets alone at this time of night.'

One of them who had expressed an interest in the children felt angry at these remarks, and he retorted with some bitterness-'And I would think less of the man who would make their father drunk.'

'Ditto to that,' responded one of the company.

[ocr errors]

And here's my hand to that,' said another. The landlord, finding that the majority of his company were likely to be against him, smothered his angry feelings, and kept silence. A few minutes afterwards two or three of the inmates of the bar-room went away.

About ten o'clock on the next morning, while Mr Freeman, who was generally sober in the fore part of the day, was in his office, a stranger entered, and, after sitting down said-'I must crave your pardon beforehand for what I am going to say. Will you promise me not to be offended?'

'If you offer me an insult I will resent it,' said the lawyer.

So far from that, I come with a desire to do you a great service.'

[ocr errors][merged small]

'I was at Lawson's Refectory last night.' 'Well ? '

'And I saw something there that touched my heart. If I slept at all last night, it was only to dream of it. I am a father, sir; I have two little girls, and I love them tenderly. O, sir! the thought of their coming out in the cold winter night in search of me in such a polluted place, makes the blood feel cold in my veins.'

Words so unexpected, coming upon Mr Freeman when he was comparatively sober, disturbed him deeply. In spite of all his endeavours to remain calm, he trembled all He made an effort to say something in reply, but could not utter a word.

over.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

derful a manner their love for you, conjure you to rise up superior to this deadly foe. Reward those dear children with the highest blessings their hearts can desire. Come with me and sign the pledge of freedom. Let us, though strangers to each other, unite in this good act.-Come!'

Half bewildered, though with a new hope in his heart, Freeman arose, and suffered the man, who drew his arm within his, to lead him away. Before they separated, both had signed the pledge.

That evening, unexpectedly, and to the joy of his family, Mr Freeman was perfectly scber when he came home. After tea, while Ady and Jane were standing on either side of him, as he sat near their mother, an arm around each of them, he said in a low whisper-You will never have to come for me again.'

The children then lifted their eyes quickly to his face, but half understanding what he meant.

'I will never go there again,' he added; 'I will always stay at home with you.'

Ady and Jane, now comprehending what their father meant, overcome with joy, hid their faces in his bosom, and wept for very gladness.

Low as all this had been said, every word reached the mother's ear; and, while her heart yet stood trembling between hope and fear, Mr Freeman drew a paper from his pocket, and threw it on the table by which he was sitting. She opened it hastily. It was a pledge with his well-known signature subscribed at the bottom.

With a cry of joy she sprang to his side, and his arms encircled his wife as well as children in a fonder embrace than they had known for years.

The children's love had saved their father. They were indeed his good angels.

THE FLOWER OF FAIRHILL. SUMMER evenings often find us loitering on Fairhill Bridge -a new, wide, and handsome structure, spanning the broad river which here washes the base of a richly-wooded acclivity, on the side of which nestles the peaceful village of Fairhill. It is a gentle, lucid river in summer time, when summer flowers adorn the banks, and lilies gleam on its sleeping but treacherous bosom; and those who gaze down into its transparent depths at such a season, to watch the finny tribes disporting, or idly note the undulating flags, find difficulty in realising the fact of that turbid appearance it presents, when with frightful velocity the waters pour down, swollen by winter storms, melting snows, and tributary insignificant streamlets. The present solid and well-built bridge bids fair to withstand the force of those annual floods, even should they exceed the bounds prescribed in the memory of the oldest inhabitant.' Not so, 1 however, the old Bridge of Fairhill, whose numerous arches, of narrow span, required the boatman's utmost skill to pilot his frail shallop through in safety, when the river was otherwise than calm; and, among many tales recorded, concerning the accidents and adventures occasioned by this dangerous navigation (though ancients allow the old bridge to have been far more picturesque than the new one), is a legend so well authenticated, and implicitly credited and vouched for by the inhabitants, that to doubt, would only be ascribed to ignorance and hardness of heart. This picturesque old bridge required constant repairs to keep it together; it was, in fact, shaky, decrepit, and tottering, and each successive winter added to its feeble, sinking condition; and at length it was wholly disused for six months, and blocked up while the necessary workmen were employed in mending and patching. During this period, the ferry was again brought into requisition, which had been the only means of transit to the opposite bank of the river before there was a bridge at all. Constant traffic, then as now, passed and repassed on this highway, for it leads to

a large town some few miles in the interior, and is the only medium of communication between numerous villages and hamlets.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

The squire of Fairhill, in those long ago' times, was a more unpopular village squire than hereditary landlords usually are. The site of the mansion-house where he resided is still a matter of certainty; and a monument in Fairhill church, defaced, and with an illegible inscription, is said to have been erected to his memory. This inscription, no doubt, was silent as to his faults, such transitory memorials usually being so; but he is still orally handed down to posterity as the crusty squire of Fairhill.' This unpopularity might partly arise from a moody disposition, and partly from domestic sorrow, which had soured and chafed the inner man, instead of sublimating and subduing the rebellious spirit. One by one, he had buried a fair family of promising children, and followed a gentle, brokenhearted wife to the grave. Fiercely murmuring at the dispensations of the Almighty, he rejected all the consolations of religion, and even reviled the priestly office. Nor could the prayers and entreaties of his sole surviving child—a good and beautiful daughter-win the unhappy father to enter the church doors, beneath whose solemn shadow reposed the dust so precious and lamented. Here the mortal remains of four noble boys mouldered side by side; and what had he done,' said the stricken worm, to be thus tried?' Vain were the arguments and persuasions of Gertrude, the eldest of his flock, spared to him yet; he listened, he even forbade to chide, but turned away, gloomy and despairing, obstinate and angry, like Jonah beneath his gourd. Her cheek was pale, her step was faltering, and in dismay and terror the father gazed on his remaining treasure, and besought her not to leave him desolate in his most desolate age, for Gertrude was betrothed to one whose poverty had hitherto precluded their union. Urban Dormstein was an orphan ward of the squire's, and had entered the service of the church at an age when carnestness and self denial are not often to be found conspicuously bringing forth golden fruits to God's glory. The squire did not withhold his approval of the attachment, which developed itself between Urban and Gertrude so gradually and silently, that mere casual observers would never have discovered the depth of passionate feeling each concealed beneath a reserved and calm exterior. Then, the squire had other children to occupy his attention; there was little prospect of Urban obtaining a living, to enable him to marry. Gertrude was young, confiding, and sweetly patient; and her lover, far away, held a small curacy, which barely sufficed for his support. But circumstances changed: Gertrude became an only child; Urban unexpectedly had a moderate living presented to him within ter miles of Fairhill, and yet the pride of his youth, the hope of his manhood, the expected solace of his age, was denied him. Gertrude could not leave her father, who clung to her with a wild desperation, as if only in her presence he existed.

On the opposite bank to Fairhill, rose the green hills, which receded and stretched away in beautiful undulations and pastoral valleys to that dear spot where poor Gertrude's thoughts unceasingly wandered, from the pleasant homestead, to the venerable church and its sunny graveyard-the church where he, the beloved, ministered-the consecrated mounds among which his footsteps so often trod. The squire, accompanied by his daughter, had twice visited St Kenelm's; and when Gertrude first caught sight of the tapering spire rising from amidst the dark surrounding woods, her heart throbbed, and her soft eyes grew dim, for ah! often had Urban eloquently described such a fair picture; and now the picture, like her life, was to be a blank, its brightness annihilated! After each of these visits, the squire's reserve and discontent increased, and his demeanour towards Urban at length became so contumelious, that only the faithful Christian minister could have endured it with unwearied patience. The outbreak came, however, at last-the storm so long dreaded by the lovers; and, on some frivolous pretext, the unreasonable squire peremptorily forba le Urban to enter his dwelling

[ocr errors]

again. He came to steal his child from him,' he said; and, with jealous rage, the grey-headed mourner hated this rival in his daughter's affections; so warped was his judgment, so unhealthy his tone of mind.

Poor Gertrude meekly bent beneath the trial, and piously trusted that better days were in store, when her father might relent, and, the consolations of religion descending on his spirit, soften and heal the broken but obdurate heart. She had promised him never to marry without his full consent; and now, though this consent was so selfishly withheld, the dutiful daughter did not deem herself at liberty to retract the promise. Nor did Urban urge her to do so, for he believed this trial of their mutual faith was wisely ordained by Him who knoweth what is best for his creatures. He had his appointed duties to fulfil-duties so onerous and weighty, even the care of souls, that he had no time for the indulgence of futile regrets : albeit he was a passionate and youthful lover. As to Gertrude, with sweet, patient gentleness and affection, she devoted herself to the task of soothing and cheering her unhappy parent, no murmur escaping her lips, and concealing every trace of sorrow anxiously from observation. But it was hard never to look on the beloved face, or to hear the dear voice of her early loved and betrothed; to be so near, yet so divided-divided as if the seas rolled betwixt them, instead of the murmuring river only.

It has been said that Gertrude's cheek was pale, and her step faltering, for she was in truth a delicate plant, and had been reared with care and difficulty; yet the squire's apprehensions were in a great measure quieted by her uncomplaining cheerfulness and activity, though he strenuously guarded her from every passing blast, forgetting, poor man! that there are wintry storms more piercing than his winds of the north. At this period, an infectious fever broke out in the village of Fairhill, which in several instances proved fatal, and, according to the various constitutions of the sufferers, betrayed its approaches, and worked its effects in various ways. The squire proudly bade defiance to its ravages. Shut up in his own domains, and withholding intercourse with the neighbourhood until the danger was over, it seemed, indeed, as if there was little to apprehend or to fear. Yet, from the commencement, Gertrude entertained misgivings she could by no means account for; hers were no selfish fears, for willingly she would have continued her charitable exertions (she was the benefactress of all the village poor, who loved her well), had not her father's prohibitions interfered. From the time when the disease first appeared, she had not been permitted to quit the grounds, or to face an individual likely to spread infection; yet, just as it was disappearing from Fairhill and the vicinity, Gertrude suddenly sickened, and the frantic father heard, with horror unspeakable, that the foe had found an entrance. The fever held in its fangs his only child! Her sufferings were soon over; and when they placed the beautiful girl in her coffin, it was almost impossible to believe that death indeed had claimed its victim, so white, lovely, and unfaded the Flower of Fairhill lay in her shroud.

From the moment when hope fled, the squire became calm, but it was the calmness of despair, frightful and alarming to behold. He never spoke, except to issue the necessary orders, but there was that in his tearless eye which appalled the stoutcst heart. Of Urban Dormstein (who had been sent for too late to receive the parting sigh of her so fondly loved), the wretched father took no notice, except to give him a letter, which had been found after Gertrude's decease, and addressed by her to her lover. There was also one to her father, both containing the same request, and both dated a few days previous to the fatal illness which had caused this double bereavement. Urban's lip quivered, and he was white as the Flower in her shroud; but he was a Christian and a man, and his grief partook of a widely different character from that of the rebellious but silent father, whose head bowed not beneath the chastening rod. Gertrude's last request to her father and her lover, was to be buried at St Kenelm's, beneath the shadow of the house of prayer where Urban daily

« AnteriorContinuar »