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we were allowed no lights for fear the elephants might kind; but whether similarly situated, I am, of course, be frightened by them, and turn back.
unable to tell. This elephant was altogether half an hour I must here remark that the elephant's eye is con- in being caught and secured, though, owing to the exstructed like that of the cat; it sees therefore much bet- citement, we could scarcely believe it was five minutes. ter at night than in the day time. We were not only In this manner sixteen of the elephants were noosed and obliged to sit in darkness but also in silence, as their made fast, and the remaining two were to be left till the hearing is also very acute; whether this is occasioned next day. One was a very large one, the other, one of by the immense size of their ears or not, I am not able the smallest, little more than three feet high, if so much; to say. In this state we sate till half-past eight o'clock, they were left quite loose, and did not make the slightwhen in one instant the whole place was lighted up, and est attempt to escape; they were even so very subdued silence was broken by the most deafening shouts, which that most of the spectators entered the Kraal to pull out even now are ringing in my ears. A crash was heard, the hair from the tails of those that were fastened to the and eighteen elephants tumbled into the Kraal, which trees, to have it made into bracelets, rings, etc., etc., as they rushed round and round, charging here and there little souvenirs of the Kraal. Two gentlemen, more adin their anger and fright. The Kraal, however, was ra- venturous than the rest, began riding the little one, at pidly surrounded by crowds of the beaters; and a chain which he was very angry, and commenced charging of fires blazed up on all sides, so that escape was hope- about, throwing down whoever came in his way, to the less, and after a vain rush at every point, the poor great amusement of the crowd. Notwithstanding this, it frighted herd collected quietly in one corner under a really was one of the most melancholy sights I ever thick jungle, and stood wearied and at rest.,
witnessed to see those poor creatures, the true lords of It was now after nine o'clock, and as there was no- the forest, there at our feet, humbled to the very dust, thing more to see that night, and being all most eager some lying down as if dead, others leaning against the for dinner, we thought it high time to return to the Bun- trees apparently in all the stupor of despair at the loss galow. I must say, however, that I did not feel quite of their liberty for ever. All seemed as though their spicomfortable within two hundred yards of such compa- rit, hope, and courage, were quite gone, they scarcely nions as eighteen wild and furious elephants; notwith- appeared capable of living through the night; even the standing this, we had a very merry dinner party, and elephant which was loose seemed quite stupified, for enjoyed a most comfortable night's rest.
though several times very much provoked (by those Next morning we breakfasted early, in order that we who should have known better,) it never moved an inch, might have more time to spend at the Kraal. When we but appeared as though in a dream, while its precious arrived at the stand, about ten o'clock, all the elephants liberty it seemed to have lost all hope or wish of regain. were together in a corner as before; they had covered ing. I cannot omit mentioning how much the strength themselves with dust in their first rage, but now they and beauty of the ropes employed for noosing the eleappeared quite stupified and overcome.
phants struck us. They are made of deer hides, and There were two quite tiny little ones among them, nothing seems to make the slightest impression on them. who always ran between their mothers' legs, and it was They are made by the Rhodias or out-casts, no others most extraordinary to see the care the elder ones took of would do it, as they would lose caste by doing such them, never even touching them with their large clumsy hard and dirty work. But to return to the elephantsfeet.
at five o'clock on the second evening they were taken Soon after we arrived, the entrance to the Kraal was down to the river to water, two or three of them. This cautiously opened, and about six or eight tame elephants is a most interesting scene; the wild elephant is fastened entered, with their mahouts or riders. This seemed to between two tame ones, and thus led down to the river. startle our wild friends a little, for they immediately on the road they made several attempts to escape, but formed themselves into a line, and prepared to make a all to no purpose; they were most anxious also to lie charge; the tame ones were quite prepared for this, and down in the water to bathe themselves, but even this they commenced advancing forward, throwing down se- little request they were refused, notwithstanding, they veral large trees and crushing them under their feet; seemed very much refreshed, and to enjoy it exceedthis had quite the effect of intimidating the others, who ingly. We returned home for dinner, and in the eveninstantly retired to their former position. One or two ing were amused with some beautiful fire-works, which of the tame elephants now advanced towards them, fol- the Cingalese particularly excel in. We were obliged lowed by the noosers to commence the capture. The to retire very early, as we were to return to Kornegalle moment the wild ones saw them approaching, they made the next morning. A few of our party were to remain, a charge; in doing this, one of the noosers was enabled however, till the evening, as they wished to see the conto throw a noose round the hind leg of one of the largest, clusion of the Kraal in the noosing of the two remaining the other end of the rope being made fast round the neck elephants, and by their description it must have been of the tame one, who began pulling it with all her well worth seeing. The large elephant was so furious, might; the wild one made prodigious efforts to escape, that it was a long while before they were able to catch but all in vain, at last he threw himself down on the it, and when caught, it broke away twice after being ground in despair, and nothing would make him rise, secured: it burst the ropes, and again it tore down the when one of the tame elephants coming behind him, tree it was fastened to; its strength was really wonderactually pushed him up with its tusks to his hopeless ful. and final discomfiture; he now gave himself up for lost, We had no rain returning, so that I was better able and allowed himself to be bound without further resist- to remark_the surrounding objects. Passing through ance. His hind legs were fastened together, and then the forest, I saw a number of Banian trees, whose shoots bound to a strong tree, his front feet were treated in the had formed themselves into the most extraordinary same manner, with the exception of not being tied to shapes possible; some looked exactly like great cables gether. When he was quite secured, he again threw suspended from one tree to another; the parasites and himself down on the ground, and lay there for two or creepers were very beautiful and curious. We were three hours in exhaustion and despair. He covered him- most fortunate in having the pleasure of Dr. Gardener, self with dust, which he collected and scattered with the eminent botanist, for a companion, in whose comhis trunk; and from time to time he inserted his trunk pany, the most insignificant plant or flower, has some into his throat and drew from some receptacte there a interest, in relation to which, he always told some tale supply of water, with which he moistened the whole of instruction. On our journey back to Kandy, he dissurface of his skin. It would thus seem as if the ele- covered the Upas tree, growing within a few miles of phant, like the camel, is provided with a reservoir of this Kornegalle. It was not known before that it grew in
Ceylon. Its poisonous properties, however, have been few highly rented acres. He was in arrears with his a little exaggerated. Though Dr. Gardener remained un- landlord, and threatened with an execution and ejectder the tree for some time, he neither saw nor experi, ment; but not knowing what was to become of him if enced any of those fearful effects which are attributed his wretched farm was taken from him, he struggled on, to it. Concerning the poison of its gum, however, it is and laboured incessantly and enormously himself, to do nevertheless, quite true, that its qualities are the most as far as possible without paid labour. Within the deadly.
house there was a system of the most rigid economy Kornegalle is, I believe, at some seasons, very un- practised. There were often painful scenes between her healthy; one of our party remarked, that it was impos- parents*when they were pressed with difficulties that sible it could be otherwise, seeing the deadly Upas tree they could not cope with. The visits of tax-gatherers, grew there. Notwithstanding this, however, it is a very poor-rate collectors, and of the steward for arrears of pretty place, and, indeed, Mr. and Mrs. Morris' de- rent, with the arrival of letters which her father took up mesne, is more like an English park, than anything with an air of aversion, and laid down with a curse, else.
made obvious a state of poverty and perplexity, that We returned to Kandy on Friday night, and I must drove all happiness out of the house, and out of life. say, that I really felt very glad to feel myself once more Her father talked more and more of flinging up the farm, out of the range of our jungle-friends, the elephants. and going to the work-house; and told the children For several days afterwards, I imagined every sound to who stood in confused silence amid their father's viobe either the trumpeting of an elephant, or the cries of lence and their mother's tears, that they must look out the beaters. In conclusion, I must say, that a Kraal is for some service, for he could no longer maintain them the only sight worth seeing in Ceylon, combining at at home. once, excitement, wonder, novelty, and instruction. Nancy Tulloch, or rather Nancy Bains, for that was
then her name, was deeply wounded by these circumstances. She was the oldest of nine children, and yet she was little more than eighteen. She was naturally of a lively and gay disposition, full of spirit, and rendered
her mother immense service in the house. She was exFACTS FROM THE FIELDS.—THE DEPOPULATING tremely pretty at the same time, and began to attract
much admiration from the young men of the neighbourPOLICY.
hood. Spite of this, however, she began to think very
much of going out to service, and of going rather into a BY WILLIAM HOwirt.
town, where she should see more of life, than in the EXTENSION OF The English MANUFACTURING SYSTEM, pride too in not wishing to be a servant where every one
hard service of the country. She might have a little BY WHICH MEN ARE WORKED UP INTO MALEFACTORS. knew her. Her mother for some time would not hear of The MELDRUM FAMILY.
it, saying what was she to do without her! But when
Nancy saw that things went still worse and worse at (Continued from page 327.)
home, she thought she could do more for her family by relieving it of her support, and being able to send it part
of her wages. But how came it that Nancy Tulloch was thus proof While these things were running in her mind, she one to the almost omnipotent power of slander ? That she day saw in a London newspaper an advertisement for a rose above the multitude thus brilliantly in the breadth housemaid in a gentleman's family, where there were of her charity ? That she was courageous enough to de- only himself and his housekeeper; the wages good, and a fy the world and its vindictive spirit of persecution on healthy maid of good character from the country prethe plea of virtue and propriety? To understand that, ferred. Catching at this as a very likely situation for a we must go a little into her history.
commencement, she wrote unknown to her parents, and Nancy Tulloch, like Zealous Scattergood, had learnt from the particulars given in reply, was induced to en. charity through suffering. Bright and happy as she gage herself at once. Her parents, though at first seemed to be and was, there was an epoch in her history somewhat taken by surprise, at length consented, known only to her husband and Mrs. Brentnal, which on condition that if she did not find the place all she had made her ready to forgive the failings of others, and expected she should not stay. to feel for the injured with a quickness of feeling which Away, however, went light-hearted Nancy Bains, and had the true spirit of heroism in it. Gay at heart, and soon reached the house indicated in Lincoln's-inn-fields. full of happiness as she seemed now, she had been at The house was no other than that of our old acquaintone terrible crisis driven by misery to the very thresh- ance Mr. Woodcroft Meadowla and his housekeeper old of self-destruction. A friendly hand had" plucked appeared a large-built good-looking woman of fifty, who her from it--and that hand was honest John Tulloch’s. impressed on Nancy how much she insisted on conduct It was the spirit with which this had inspired her, that and character in a girl, especially as her master was a had made her active in behalf of Meldrum, though Mel- bachelor, and therefore she preferred a simple-hearted drum never knew the slightest portion of the real cause girl out of the country. Nancy was pleased at this disNancy Tulloch, like our Saviour, could go a long way to position of the housekeeper, and found the place exseek and save that which was lost, and where she did tremely easy, a char-woman coming once or twice not see an actual malignity of nature, she was unwil- week to clean the floors and stairs, and do sundry things ling to despair of any one, or to abandon her desires for that the house-maid might be relieved from them. his restoration. Zealous Scattergood had laid open his Nancy Bains was somewhat surprised that a gentlewhole history to her, and she saw in his persecutions man like Mr. Meadowlands, who, she was told was a even the benevolent finger of God, for they had com- man of large estate, and had a fine establishment in the pelled him into a steady minister and counsellor of the country, should prefer to live in such a very quiet way poor by closing all higher avenues of exertion against in town, not even keeping a man-servant, and scarcely him, if higher there can be.
being seen at home except in an evening. But why need Nancy Tulloch was one of the numerous family of a we prolong a common story? Nancy found Mr. Meadowsmall farmer in Dorsetshire. As she was growing into lands a very agreeable man, who seemed to be very womanhood penury was pressing with an iron pressure much pleased with her indeed. It was not long before on her father. He had gradually grown poorer on his he began to pay her particular attentions, and bought
A FEW WORDS ABOUT NANCY TULLOCH.
her several handsome presents. To a girl of her age girl, nearly beside herself, ran down the steps, and and country experience this was all agreeable enough walked away scarcely conscious of what she did. She from a handsome man of Mr. Meadowlands’ station—but soon, however, resolved to watch for Mr. Meadowlands Nancy was not without a considerable degree of shrewd till she saw him. For several evenings she went to and ness, and she grew very uneasy. She resolved to tell fro before his house, but in vain. He never came; and the housekeeper of the presents, and to say that she did a policeman, who had noticed her promenading here, ornot altogether feel right about it. She did so, but the dered her off. Still every evening for a week she rehousekeeper only replied "Pooh, child! he means you turned, and went the length of that side of the field to no harm, but he is pleased with your manners, and what and fro for hours. In one of these walks another young is a present or two to him.”
woman accosted her, and asked if she was looking for This did not satisfy Nancy, and things began rapidly any one, and if she could assist her. Nancy, who was to assume so dangerous an aspect, that she resolved to driven to despair, said frankly—“ Yes, she wanted to see quit the place as speedily as possible. Alas! poor Nancy! Mr. Meadowlands, who lived at that house," pointing she was only one of the many simple innocent creatures to it. who are decoyed by the same diabolical means into a “Ha! my dear!” replied the young woman with prison-house, from whence they never escape but with more feeling than Nancy even in her simplicity exruin, and in those cases where there is a high sense of pected—"is it Mr. Meadowlands ? Have you ever been innate virtue, with despair and death. We pass over in his service ?" the horrible story-London can furnish such every day Nancy replied, “She had.” in the week. Enough-that some weeks afterwards The young woman, then eyeing her with a peculiar Nancy Bains was turned, at a moment's warning, with look, said—“ And so have I, and I can tell you exactly violence and insult, out of the house of Mr. Woodcroft what has occurred to you. Come along, that policeman Meadowlands. A stranger in London, knowing no one, is watching us." and not daring to reveal her condition to her parents at With that she walked on, and in a few minutes opened home, or go there, the poor girl saw herself with terror under Nancy's feet a gulph of terror that seemed to standing on the pavement of Lincoln’s-inn-fields with the make her very blood stagnate. She told her own story box that contained her whole worldly property. A cab -the very counterpart of Nancy's. She gave her the accidentally passing she called to the man to take her information, that this virtuous housekeeper was his base up. He asked where he should drive. She did not procuress, who advertised for victims. That Mr. Meaknow, she said at length, to the city. Being set down dowlands was a married man, with several children, at the corner of a street, she called a porter to carry her and kept a magnificent establishment in Eaton-square. box, and as they went along she asked him to show her That Nancy was but one of a series of his victims, and to some decent lodgings. The man did this very ho- that if she would go with her to Lock's Hospital, she nestly, and in her little room, as soon as she was alone, could get an order-she would see to what one of them she flung herself on the bed and gave way to the excess was there come. of her misery. How earnestly did the poor girl pray Nancy, who had hoped, could she see Mr. Meadow. that she might die, but such prayers are not heard; and lands, that she could move him to compassion, and in. during several days that she continued here, without duce him to find her some asylum till she could again stirring out, she thought over and over in distraction seek out with a fair chance for an honest service-was what she should do. One moment she resolved to go to now struck to the heart with what she had heard. She a magistrate and accuse Mr. Meadowlands of his crimes, saw the full horror of her condition—and thanking her but the monster, conscious of his security, had before informant as well as she could, she turned away, and w ned her of the uselessness and the danger of any made for the city with a desperation in her soul that such attempt. Against a man of his wealth and station, could be satisfied with nothing but death. She turned and with people in his house ready to give evidence for down towards London Bridge, went wildly up to its cen. him and against her, it could only result in a charge of tre, and looked round her to see if she could mount the a trick to extort money on her part. It could only bring parapet and spring off before any one could seize her. her exposure and punishment as an impostor. Such are But the eyes of a score of passengers seemed upon herthe securities of the innocent poor against the oppres- she cast one glance over the wall down into the dark and sions and outrage of the sensual rich in a country where dismal depth, and her spirit recoiled. But not the less it is said law and justice are open to every one. Well did did she pursue her purpose. She descended the steps Sidney Smith add, and so is Mivart's Hotel.
near the foot of the bridge on the city side, and made But Nancy Bains's money, far from sufficiency for the her way to the packet wharf. Here, as soon as she saw purchase of justice or for entering Mivart's Hotel, the gleam of the water, she rushed forward at full speed would not last her long in her present miserable lodg- to plunge into the river. With a prayer to God for forings. Go home she could not, and would not, and giveness in the very act, and a quick and bitter thought dreadful as had been the first experiment, she saw no- of home, she had got within a yard of the brink, when thing for it, but seeking another service. But with whom she was arrested by a strong arm, which seized the was she to advise? She knew nobody, and the people of skirts of her gown, and a sailor who had been leaning the house did not seem likely to assist her.
his back against a crane said,-looking her earnestly In the midst of these agitations she became haunted but kindly in the face. “Whither away, matey, so fast ? with a sense of the consequences of her late treatment. I fear you are meaning mischief. Is it not true?” She was persuaded that she should become a mother, Poor Nancy stood as if struck into a pillar of stone. and stung to madness by the idea, she rushed out, and She stared at the sailor, but she uttered not a word, and took her way to Lincoln's-inn-fields, and in her despe- the next moment she dropped on the ground as if she Iation knocked at Mr. Meadowlands' door. It was were shot dead. opened by the housekeeper, who, on seeing her, de When she again became conscious, she found herself manded in no very smooth terms what she wanted. sitting on a bench propped on the arm of the same To see Mr. Meadowlands,” she replied.
sailor. They were still alone; and the man said “ To see Mr. Meadowlands!” exclaimed the woman “There, matey, you are coming about—now don't fluster in terms of unmeasured and indignant astonishment. yourself. Take it calmly. You are not well. Some. “How dare you, you impudent baggage come here thing troubles you. Never mind, we won't talk about and ask any such thing. Begonel or I will give you up it. As soon as you can walk you shall go and have to the police!”
some coffee, and if John Tulloch can be of any use to The door was slammed in her face, and the wretched you, why he will, matey, that's all. Come, don't be
downcast, cheer up, cheer up-things mend when they living. Here the door was opened by Mrs. Brentnalcome to the worst."
who was no little astonished to see John Tulloch with a The kind tones of the honest sailor and his kind con- young girl on his arm. John, however, entered without duct had such an effect on the poor girl under the cir ceremony, and said, cumstances, that she could do nothing but weep and sob "Show this young woman up to the little berth in the as if her heart would break. It was some time before upper deck, and let her get to bed, for, poor thing, she the sailor could get her to calm herself, and give him i needs rest, and, mother, be kind to her." some account of herself, at the same time saying, that Mrs. Brentnal looked first at one and then at the he did not want her to tell him anything but what she other, and appeared to hesitate what to do. But John pleased, he only wanted to know if he could take her Tulloch said, anywhere, and do anything for her. When he asked .“Quick, mother, quick, don't you see the poor child her where her friends lived, it only set her off again, is almost fainting-quick, and come down to me, and and her distress was so great that the poor sailor was at let's have some supper." his wits' end.
John Tulloch wanted no supper, but he wanted this “Well, sweetheart,” he said at length, "just let me awkward scene over, and all explained to Mrs. Brentknow what I can do. Try to quieten yourself, and say nal. And here we may say, that though John called where we shall go to, will you? There's a good girl.” Mrs. Brentnal mother, she was no more his mother, than
With an effort Nancy now told him enough to let him he was her uncle John, though she called him so, while know that her friends were far off in the country-that he was at least twenty five years younger than herself. Mrs. she did not know a soul in London-that she had been Brentnal had been John's nurse when he was a child. so shamefully used that she only desired to die—and He had always been very fond of her, and though, never could face her friends again. At hearing this the owing to the misfortunes of his father, who was a kind sailor said
wealthy farmer at one time, John and his elder brother had “Well, it is a dreadful place is this London. Come, come to London, he never forgot the old woman, and we will have some coffee, and I will take you to my when he heard that her husband was dead, and had left good old mother, and may be, by and bye, one may hit her destitute, he sent for her up to town, and took this on something to ease your mind and make you wish to house, and made her his housekeeper; though at that live. Cheer up, matey, cheer up, do.”
time he did not need a house, or housekeeper, as he And as he said this he took her gently by the arm, had a room at his brother's in Rotherhithe, and was and led her to a coffee-house near, where he went into saving a good deal of money. an upper room and ordered coffee for two.
Mrs. Brentnal soon came down, and heard John's The sailor appeared in the light to be about five-and-story, but for some time was not half pleased with the thirty, of a round ruddy countenance, with a consider-adventure. She pronounced it, at all events, rash and able búsh of brown hair on his head and a brown beard, romantic, and wished no ill might come of it. John that curled up round his chin like a border. His eyes quietly said, he wished so too- and there the matter were something large and blue, and he had altogether an ended for the present. air of the most thorough honesty and kindness.
In the morning he went early over to the ship, which · May be," said he to Nancy, who sate gazing into was loading in dock, and was to sail the next week. the fire with a look of despair —“ may be, matey, you When he returned at night, Mrs. Brentnal received him would like a glass of something strong --but I never take with an unusual degree of attention; she had tea on table anything stronger than coffee. I'm a temperance man, and had got some Sally Lunns buttered, and his chair set and belong to a temperance ship, a temperance captain, and scarcely did he open his mouth to ask how the poor and a temperance merchant. But you need a good stiff girl was, before she was quite officious in replying, that glass of grog, I think.”
she was a good deal cheered up poor thing--and a very Nancy Bains thanked him warmly, but said she would nice little creature she was. prefer the coffee. It was with much difficulty, however, “You think so, mother,” said John, evidently much that John Tulloch could prevail on her to take any, and pleased. “Then I was not such a fool either. Well, it was not till he had by the kindliness and delicate re-well, it delights me, mother, it delights me; if you spect of his manner won something on her attention, think so, all is right.” that they set out for his mother's, as he called her. As Over their tea, Mrs. Brentnal soon showed uncle John, they went along, John said-—"I see matey, plain enough, that she was possessed of all Nancy Bairs's story, and that you are not one of these town bred’uns. You're all that she believed every word of it. She really did beright and tight as any little vessel can be, only that lieve that the poor girl was as good as she was pretty, you've fallen in with treacherous squalls and d -d pi- but that she was afraid she would never get over it--she rates. Never mind-foul to-day fair to-morrow. Trust would break her heart with grief. in God, and there may be a good voyage yet.”.
“But she ust get over it,” said uncle John, “ you At these words, and especially that“ trust in God,” and must’nt let her break her heart—and by jingo! why the genuine heart-warm tone in which it was uttered, don't you give her some tea, mother?" Nancy felt herself revived. A spirit of confidence awoke “She's had it, John,” said Mrs. Brentnal. in her. She saw that this was a very honest, kind fellow, “Well I might haguessed that,” replied John Tul. and in his way religious, and she could not help giving loch, “and now we're off next week, and you must take his arm a gentle pressure to her side as they were going charge of the poor thing till I'm back, and then we'll along.
see what we can do with her friends. But that villain “ That's right now, matey, come that's right,” said Meadowlands !—if I had but another week or so, rat the sailor. "Now you can believe me, and so dismiss him ! if I would'nt shoot him, or chop him down, or your fears. I don't wonder at your not believing a something of the sort. He should not live--the vilstranger all at once-but, do you know, I believe, and I lain !” hope you do the same, that a sparrow does not fall to “John Tulloch," said Mrs. Brentnal, “ do you want the ground without God's will, and I have a notion, and me to see you hanged? Have you lost your senses ? it pleases me, that it was not without his guidance that Leave the villain to God, who'll punish him, and all such I was just in your way to-night."
like in his own time. You frighten me, and I am thankNancy could only ejaculate,
ful that you're going, I really am this time, though I “Thank you, thank you !” for her tears were flowing never was before." again as fast as ever, and they went on in silence till John continued to vow all sorts of vengeance against they reached the court where we have found them the villain, Meadowlands, however, till he went to bed,
and the same next morning at breakfast. To shorten and excellent creature we have seen her. To love and our story, however, the day arrived for John Tulloch to help, were the two great impulses of her heart. Sorgo on board. Before this, Nancy Bains had recovered row had a sacred power over her, that she never tried to something of her spirits. She had got, through Mrs. break. To honest John Tulloch she seemed bound Brentnal, plenty of needlework, and she sate in her lit- by ties of gratitude and respect, that only deepened her tle room stitching away as if it were for her life, and love, and made her his living genius, always thinking of it probably was, for it helped her to get rid of the him, and for him, and the one good deed that he had thoughts that preyed on her life.
done in her behalf, was repaid by a daily devotion, that John Tulloch would have her to take her supper with made his little home in this dingy court, more bright to them, the night before he sailed, and the sweet looks of his eye, or his memory, than the brightest scenes of poor Nancy, as all gratitude and ever and anon, a gush southern coasts and countries that he had visited in his of irrepressible tears, as he spoke cheerfully to her, made voyages. Besides the eldest boy, they had now another him again inwardly curse that villain, Meadowlands, child playing on the floor, and no one could tell which and think what he would do. He had to be on board John liked best,--he could not tell himself-they were that night, and so he bade Mrs. Brentnal and Nancy, both Nancy's. good-bye, and told them to be good company till he came back, and with that he gave Nancy a
( To be continued) shake of the hand that once more made the tears start to her eyes, and a blessing into her heart, as she hastened up stairs to hide her feelings.
When John Tulloch returned from his voyage, which had been one of unusual duration, he found Nancy
POETS OF THE PEOPLE. Bains still with Mrs. Brentnal. She had recovered her best looks, though mixed with a degree of gravity, that
No. IV. told that sad thoughts lay deep down in her heart. There was a cradle in her little room, and a fine lad sleeping in it; but between Mrs. Brentnal and Nancy,
By Dr. SMILES. there was a league grown, as of mother and daughter. Mrs. Brentnal declared that Nancy was the best little
( Concluded from page 380.) creature that ever was born. She had written down into the country to tell her parents that she had left her Ar the conclusion of the first portion of this memoir, first place, as it did not at all suit her, and that she now inserted in last week's Journal, we gave Bamford's got plenty of needlework, and was very comfortable. sketch of himself about the time of his first imprisonMrs. Brentnal had also written to them to say, Naney ment. And now, here is Bamford's portrait of his home, was the best creature that ever was born, and the mo- his wife, and his children at the same period :ther had written in return that it was very pleasant to
“ Come in from the frozen rain, and from the night hear such good accounts.
wind, which is blowing the clouds into sheets, like torn Thus all pain had so far been spared them, and their sails before a gale. Now down a step or two.— 'Tis poverty had prevented their coming up, by which any better to keep low in the world, than to climb only to unhappy discovery of the real facts had been prevented. fall. Out of doors Mrs. Brentnal had not found it so easy a
"It is dark, save when the clouds break into white matter to satisfy the neighbours as to Nancy's identity. scud; and silent, except the snort of the wind, and the They imagined that was John Tulloch's wife, and rattling of hail, and the eaves of dropping rain. that he did not say so, on account of his relations on Come in!--A glimmer shows that the place is inhabited; the other side of the water, who, they fancied, were ex- that the nest has not been rifled whilst the bird was · pecting his money amongst their children. Any other away, supposition they could not entertain, except at Mrs.
“Now shalt thou see what a miser a poor man can be Brentnal's expense ; but Mrs. Brentnal explained that in the heart's treasury. A second door opens, and a all was right, and time would show.
flash of light shows we are in a weaving room, clean and And time did show. John Tulloch went two or three flagged, and in which are two looms with silken work of voyages, and in the intervals at home, he grew more green and gold. A young woman, of short stature, fair, and more fond of Nancy Bains; brought her presents, round, and fresh as Hebe; with light brown hair esand would take her out on excursions to Greenwich, caping in ringlets from the sides of her clean cap, and which was his favourite resort, where he could talk to with a thoughtful and meditative look, sits darning bethe old sailors, and stroll in the park, and get ten at side a good fire, which sheds warmth upon the cleanone of the tea-houses, and the like.
swept hearth, and gives light throughout the room, or Mrs. Brentnal saw all this, but only with evident plea- rather cell. A fine little girl, seven years of age, with a sure, and on the third return of John Tulloch; he fairly sensible and affectionate expression of countenance, is married Nancy Bains, and made an excursion to Graves- reading in a low tone to her mother . end to hold the wedding dinner. And yet it was not “And he opened his mouth and taught them, saying, called a wedding dinner--for honest John Tulloch pre- Blessed are the poor in spirit; for theirs is the kingdom tended to his relations and everybody, that Nancy had of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn ; for they shall long been his wife, aye, long before he brought her home. be comforted. Blessed are the meek; for they shall The reason of this was obvious. He was determined inherit the earth. Blessed are they who hunger and that not a soul but himself and Mrs. Brentnal should thirst after righteousness; for they shall be filled. Blesknow an atom of Nancy's past history. It would not have sed are the merciful; for they shall obtain mercy. been easy for any one but John Tulloch to satisfy his re- Blessed are the pure in heart ; for they shall see God. lations for his keeping silence so long, but as for him, it Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall be called was quite enough to say that it had been his whim. the children of God. Blessed are they which are perHad any one been at the trouble to search the registry, secuted for righteousness sake; for theirs is the kingthey would have found Nancy's little boy registered in dom of heaven. Blessed are ye when men shall revile her own maiden name--but nobody ever thought of you, and persecute you; and shall say all manner of doing it, and the child bore, and will continue to bear evil against you for my sake." the name of Tulloch to his dying day.
** Observe the room and its furniture. An humble but Nancy, by degrees, became the bright, cheerful, happy cleanly bed, screened by the dark old-fashioned curtain,