and stammered. "Is there any meaning in this question? or are you only playing with my feelings? If so, it is not kind in you—a stranger too-to make sport of me. I think you ought to explain your meaning, sir."

Ah," he said, rather speaking to himself than to me, "it is so then. My dear Miss C-," he continued, "I ought to apologize for even seeming to doubt your true affection for my friend; for I do not doubt it, I assure you. But a very painful event which has happened in my own circle of personal friends prompted the question I last put. Will you permit me to give you the outlines of that event?"

I told him, "Yes;" and he went on :

"About three or four years ago, I became acquainted with a young lady who, in consequence of the death of a parent, and a reverse in circumstances, was led, or driven, in the course of God's providence, to seek a situation as governess. By that same providence she was directed to the house and service of a lady who lives near me, and has several children requiring instruction. This lady is an attendant on my ministry and a communicant in my church; and in my occasional visits to her house, I was introduced to and became acquainted with Miss -well I will not mention her real name; let me say Miss Brown.

"I found in Miss Brown, on more mature acquaintance, a most intelligent and interesting young lady,-young, for she was not at that time more than nineteen or twenty years of age. She was, personally, exceedingly lovely, so far as I am a competent judge; though there was a shade of premature thoughtfulness, amounting almost to sadness, sometimes traceable on her very expressive features. I attributed this to the recent sorrows which had darkened her life's prospects.

"Better-infinitely better-than personal loveliness, however, there was a maturity of deep piety in Miss Brown which charmed me, and which evidently shed a beneficial influence around her; so that I congratulated my friend on the acquisition of such a teacher for her children; and I had reason to know that she appreciated the blessing. In short, Miss Brown was looked upon by her more as a dear and valued friend, than as a mere stipendiary. Do I weary you with these details, Miss C?" the aged speaker asked me.

"Oh, certainly not," I replied; though I could not help wondering what object he had in giving me this history; and when Edward would return.

"I am glad that you are interested," rejoined the simple-minded old clergyman; "and I will go on with my story.

"In process of time," he continued, "Miss Brown became more and more a part of the family which she had entered in an inferior capacity. She was the trusted friend of the lady who employed her; and though she did not cease to be the teacher and governess of the children (who loved her very dearly for her gentleness and constant kindness), she was looked upon, in every respect, as on an equality with the society in which she was gradually persuaded to mingle. I say 'persuaded,' because Miss Brown was either naturally, or by circumstances, shrinking and almost timid.

"Thus two or three years passed away; and then a circumstance occurred which might have been, but was not, foreseen. A gentleman, into whose company the young governess was thus almost compulsorily cast, was attracted by her gentle disposition and superior intelligence, as well as her personal charms; and sought her for his wife. His suit was at first gratefully declined, more I believe because of the difference in station which existed between the wooed and the wooer, than from any real repugnance on the part of the young lady. So, at any rate, the gentleman believed; and he persevered in his addresses until the lady was conquered. And it was easy to be seen, by Miss Brown's more immediate friends, that her consent was a very glad one when her scruples were silenced. This, indeed, might very well be; for the gentleman of whom I am speaking had very excellent qualities and a competent fortune, in addition to an agreeable person and manners. He had also true piety to sanctify all the rest of his possessions.

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“And now I am sorry to tell you, my dear young lady," continued Mr. Martyn, that when this engagement was known, a degree of jealousy was excited for which I confess I was not prepared, and which ought not to have existed in a society of Christians. It was whispered by some who ought to have known better, that Miss Brown had artfully entrapped the gentleman's affections; and that this came of raising such a person out of her proper

sphere. I am ashamed to repeat this folly, Miss C-, and I will not dwell upon it more than I need.

"Happily these whispers were not heard by the parties most vitally concerned; and the time drew near for the matrimonial union of these dear friends of mine. In the course of a few months at furthest they were to be made man and wife.

"But while they and their true friends were looking forward with hopeful anticipation to this event, a dark cloud overshadowed them, and the expectation faded away into gloom and sorrow. It was caused by some words spoken, not maliciously I am almost sure, but indiscreetly, by a former acquaintance of the young lady, who, in a company in which she appeared almost as a stranger, amused herself and her audience by what was afterwards found to be a highly-coloured and, in some respects, an incorrect account of a transaction in which Miss Brown performed an unhappy part, many years before; and which went far to brand that young person with-with very bad principles. I will not say more than this; but others said more-much more. Among those who heard the story as told by Miss Brown's former acquaintance, was a lady who had indirectly and covertly, but strongly opposed the connexion which had been formed; and she eagerly listened to all the details of the narrative. It served her purpose only too well. Or rather, let me say, she credulously and willingly believed the story, and thought it her duty to repeat it (with some involuntary additions of her own, perhaps) far and wide; and the result was

While Mr. Martyn was speaking, a conviction, or suspicion, gradually was awakened in my thoughts, that I was, somehow or other, concerned in his narrative; and that it was not without design that he had sought this interview. At first, there was an undefinable dread that some dire disaster or hindrance was threatening my espousals; and that he (Mr. Martyn) had been brought in by Edward Lascelles to break to me the intelligence which he dared not communicate. But a moment's reflection dissipated this fear; and then, as the story advanced to the point at which I have just dropped it, I seemed to understand it all, by inspiration almost. My visitor was enacting the part of Nathan; I sat before him, as David sat before the old Hebrew prophet-a witness and a judge against myself.

"Stop, sir!" I cried, in great agitation; "you said that Brown was not the real name of your friend?"

"The young lady's name was not Brown; no." "Was it is it-Ethel Ripon ?"

"I have been speaking of Ethel Ripon," he said.

GUNPOWDER GEORGE.

THE village of Combeleigh is one of the prettiest spots in the south of England. The village itself, surrounded by gardens and orchards, lies in what the inhabitants call a "bottom." Picture to yourself a narrow valley, shut in by hills clothed with trees, the bright red soil forming a contrast to the cool green; a rivulet, the "Wander sparkles in the sunshine, now glancing along amongst pebbles, now chafing and fuming amongst granite boulders; now sleeping in calm deep pools, where the trout love to lie, till it spreads itself out on the sandy beach, and is lost in the sea. The village of Combeleigh is scattered about in this valley, each house standing apart in its garden and orchard. Men are thronging along the lanes, and the monotonous heavy beat which we have heard throughout the day is still; work is just knocked off at the "Combeleigh powder mills."

"I say, George," shouted a tall bronzed man, known by the name of "Gaffer." "You'll stand treat to-night, my it's your turn you know?"

man,

"You hold your tongue, Gaffer, and mind your own business; I shan't do it for your asking, d'ye hear. Hold your tongue, or I'll give ye something to make ye!"

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Gunpowder George is in a temper to-night," whispered another man. "Let him be, Gaffer, he's as strong as two men, and when he's up, he's as dangerous as gunpowder; let him be, I say, he's scowling at ye!"

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Gunpowder George" was an old inhabitant of Combeleigh; he had lived there man and boy forty years. He was a passionate, headstrong boy, and he had grown up a passionate man. One hasty word was sometimes enough to set fire to the train, and the explosion was dreaded by all. I need not tell you, that George was foremost in every fight. Tall and strong, with a passionate temper and a fist of iron, a sad drunkard and swearer, Gunpowder George was at once the terror and scourge of Combeleigh. The minister, Mr. Thornton, was on his usual round,

visiting the sick and aged, and as he passed a pretty cottage, covered with monthly rose and jessamine, he stopped, looked at his watch, and returning, knocked at the cottage door. A poor woman opened it. I am sorry to say, that the cottage inside was a strange contrast to the beauty that reigned outside. The windows were dark and dusty, and stuffed up with paper and rags; two or three dirty children were crying and fighting on the floor. It was washing day, the tub stood upon the table, and streaming garments festooned the room.

"It was catchy weather," Mrs. Brown said, and "she couldn't be bothered, taking things up and down." "I'm sorry to be always in such a caddle when you do come, sir," said she, shaking some dirty clothes from a chair.

"Never mind about me, Mrs. Brown; but, by my watch, the mills must have struck off work, and I am afraid you have no chair for George, or supper either. How can you expect to keep your husband at home?"

Well, sir," said Mrs. Brown, twitching the corner of her apron, "what can I do? I'm sure I slave from morning till night, and my George, he's never satisfied! He's a bit of a temper, sir; it's always the same, whether supper's ready or not; he'll swear at me, and beat the children. I'm sure it's a mercy when he's off to the public."

"Mrs. Brown," said Mr. Thornton, suddenly; "you are a stirring woman, will you try a receipt of mine, if I send it to you?"

"Yes, sure, sir; I should be proud to try any of your receipts."

The good man opened his pocket-book, and took out a slip of paper which he handed to Mrs. Brown. "Try that," said he, with a smile; "and I will come in a few days, and hear how you succeed."

Mrs. Brown stood in the middle of the room, looking at the paper with a puzzled air.

"How to keep a husband at home: Give him a kind look, a kind word, a clean room, a clean hearth, and a hot supper when he comes in." "Well, that's enough things, I'll warrant, for a poor hard-worked woman; and my George is such a temper, that clean hearth or not he'd go off to the public; poor fellow though, he did speak rather kind to me this morning: I'll see." She twitched down the clothes-line, thrust the dirty clothes under the bed, and the clean ones into a cupboard, shovelled up the ashes, despatched the children