"It's the last; I shall never cost you any more," she would say complacently; and revert to that question of absorbing interest, her trousseau, an extremely handsome one, provided liberally by Mr. Ascott. Sorely had this arrangement jarred upon the pride of the Leaf family: yet it was inevitable. But no personal favors would the other two sisters have accepted from Mr. Ascott, even had he offered them, which he did not, save a dress each for the marriage, and a card for the marriage-breakfast, which, he also arranged, was to take place at a hotel.

So, in spite of the expected wedding, there was little change in the dull life that went on at No. 15. Its only brightness was when Miss Hilary came home from Saturday to Monday. And in those brief glimpses, when, as was natural, she on her side and they on theirs, put on their best face, so to speak, each trying to hide from the other any special care,-it so fell out that Miss Hilary never discovered a thing which, week by week, Elizabeth resolved to speak to her about, and yet never could. For it was not her own affair; it seemed like presumptuously meddling in the affairs) of the family. Above all, it involved the necessity of something which looked like tale-bearing and backbiting of a person she disliked, and there was in Elizabeth-servant as she was an instinctive chivalrous honor which made her especially anxious to be just to her enemies.

Enemy, however, is a large word to use; and yet day by day her feelings grew more bitter towards the person concerned; namely, Mr. Ascott Leaf. It was not from any badness in him; he was the sort of young man always likely to be a favorite with what would be termed his "inferiors," easy, good-tempered, and gentlemanly, giving a good deal of trouble certainly, but giving it so agreeably, that few servants would have grumbled, and paying for itas he apparently thought everything could be paid for with a pleasant word and a handful of silver.

But Elizabeth's distaste for him had deeper roots. The principal one was his exceeding indifference to his aunts' affairs, great and small, from the marriage, which

the sharp economies which, even with the addition of Miss Hilary's salary, were still requisite. None of these latter did he ever seem to notice, except when they pressed upon himself, when he neither scolded nor argued, but simply went out and avoided them.

He was now absent from home more than ever, and apparently tried as much as possible to keep the household in the dark as to his movements-leaving at uncertain times, never saying what hour he would be back, or if he said so, never keeping to his word. This was the more annoying, as there were a number of people continually inquiring for him, hanging about the house, and waiting to see him " on business: and some of these occasionally commented on the young gentleman in such unflattering terms, that Elizabeth was afraid they would reach the ear of Mrs. Jones, and henceforward tried always to attend to the door herself.

But Mrs. Jones was a wide-awake woman. She had not let lodgings for thirty years for nothing. Ere long she discovered, and took good care to inform Elizabeth of her discovery, that Mr. Ascott Leaf was what is euphuistically termed "in difficulties."

And here one word, lest in telling this poor lad's story, I may be supposed to tell it harshly or uncharitably, as if there were no crime greater than that which a large portion of society seems to count as none; as if, at the merest mention of that ugly word debt, this rabid author flew out, and made all the ultra-virtuous persons, whose history is here told, fly out, like turkeys after a bit of red cloth, which is a very harmless scrap of red cloth after all.

Most true some kind of debt deserves only compassion. The merchant suddenly failing; the tenderly reared family who by some strange blunder or unkind kindness have been kept in ignorance of their real circumstances, and been spending pounds for which there was only pence to pay; the individuals, men or women, who, without any laxity of principle, are such utter children in practice, that they have to learn the value and use of money by hard experience, much as a child does, and are little better than children in all that concerns L. s. D. to the end of their days.

But these are debtors by accident, not

error.

enough for itself.

To which of these classes young Ascott Leaf belonged, his story will show. I tell it, or rather let it tell itself, and point its own moral; it is the story of hundreds and thousands.

That a young fellow should not enjoy his youth would be hard; that it should be pleasant to him to dress well, live well, and spend with open hand upon himself, as well as others, no one will question. No one would ever wish it otherwise. Many a kindly spendthrift of twenty-one makes a prudent paterfamilias at forty, while a man who in his twenties showed a purposeless niggardliness, would at sixty grow into the most contemptible miser alive. There is something even in the thoughtless liberality of youth to which one's heart warms, even while one's wisdom reproves. But what struck Elizabeth was that Ascott's liberalities were always towards himself, and himself only.

Sometimes when she took in a parcel of new clothes, while others, yet unpaid for, were tossing in wasteful disorder about his room, or when she cleaned indefinite pairs of handsome boots, and washed dozens of the finest cambric pocket-handkerchiefs, her spirit grew hot within her to remember Miss Hilary's countless wants and contrivances in the matter of dress, and all the little domestic comforts which Miss Leaf's frail health required-things which never once seemed course not, it will be said, how could a young to cross the nephew's imagination. Of man be expected to trouble himself about these things?

But they do though. Answer, many a widow's son; many a needful brother of orphan sisters; many a solitary clerk living and paying his way upon the merest pittance: is it not better to think of others than one's self? Can a man, even a young man, find his highest happiness in mere personal enjoyment ?

However, let me cease throwing these

Elizabeth's annoyances, suspicions, and conscience-pricks as to whether she ought or ought not to communicate both, came to an end at last. Gradually she made up her mind that, even if it did look like tale-bearing, on the following Saturday night Miss Hilary must know all.

It was an anxious week, for Miss Leaf had fallen ill. Not seriously: and she never complained until her sister had left, when she returned to her bed and did not again rise. She would not have Miss Hilary sent for, nor Miss Selina, who was away paying a ceremonious pre-nuptial visit to Mr. Ascott's partner's wife at Dulwich.

"I don't want anything that you cannot do for me. You are becoming a firstrate nurse, Elizabeth," she said, with that passive, peaceful smile, which almost frightened the girl; it seemed as if she were slipping away from this world and all its cares, into another existence. Elizabeth felt that to tell her anything about her nephew's affairs was perfectly impossible. How thankful she was that in the quiet of the sick-room her mistress was kept in ignorance of the knocks and inquiries at the door, and especially of a certain ominous paper which had fallen into Mrs. Jones' hands, and informed her, as she took good care to inform Elizabeth, that any day "the bailiffs" might be after her young master.

"And the sooner the whole set of you clear out of my house the better; I'm a decent, respectable woman," said Mrs. Jones, that very morning; and Elizabeth had had to beg her as a favor, not to disturb her sick mistress, but to wait one day, till Miss Hilary came home.

Also, when Ascott, ending with a cheerful and careless countenance his ten minutes' after-breakfast chat in his aunt's room, had met Elizabeth on the staircase, he had stopped to bid her say, if anybody wanted him, he was gone to Birmingham, and would not be home till Monday. And on Elizabeth's hesitating, she having determined to tell no more of these involuntary lies, he had been very angry, and then stooped to entreaties, begging her to do as he asked, or it would be the ruin of him. Which she understood well enough, when all the day, she

back. He really couldn't; she was so very plain.

bered that she really was doing nothing wrong, and so need not be afraid of anything. This was her simple creed, which Miss Hil

till she knocked at Miss Balquidder's door.

It was the sheriff's officer.

When his trouble came upon him, Ascott's manliness returned. He turned very white, but he made no opposition,-had even enough of his wits about him-or something better than wits-to stop Mrs. Jones from rushing up in alarm and indignation to arouse Miss Leaf.

66

'No; she'll know it quite soon enough. Let her sleep till morning. Elizabeth, look here." He wrote upon a card the address. of the place he was to be taken to. "Give Aunt Hilary this. Say, if she can think of. a way to get me out of this horrid messbut I don't deserve it Never mind. Come on, you fellows."

He pulled his hat over his eyes, jumped into the cab, and was gone. The whole thing had not occupied five minutes.

Stupefied, Elizabeth stood, and considered what was best to be done. Miss Hilary must be told; but how to get at her in the middle of the night, thereby leaving her mistress to the mercy of Mrs. Jones? It would never do. Suddenly she thought of Miss Balquidder. She might send a message. No; not a message for the family misery and disgrace must not be betrayed to a strangerbut a letter, to Kensington.

With an effort, Elizabeth composed herself sufficiently to write one-her first-to her dear Miss Hilary.

"HONORED MADAM,-Mr. Leaf has got himself into trouble, and is taken away somewhere; and I dare not tell missis; and I wish you was at home, as she is not well, but better than she has been, and she shall know nothing about it till you come.-Your obedient and affectionate servant,

"ELIZABETH HAND."

Taking Ascott's latchkey, she quitted the house, and slipt out into the dark night, almost losing her way among the gloomy squares, where she met not a creature except the solitary policeman, plashing steadily along the wet pavement. When he turned the glimmer of his bull's-eye upon her she started like a guilty creature, till she remem

There, poor girl, her heart sank, especially when Miss Balquidder, in an anomalous costume and a severe voice, opened the door herself, and asked who was there, disturbing a respectable family at this late hour?

Elizabeth answered, what she had before determined to say, as sufficiently explaining her errand, and yet betraying nothing that her mistress might wish concealed.

"Please, ma'am, I'm Miss Leaf's servant. My missis is ill, and I want a letter sent at once to Miss Hilary."

"Oh! come in, then. Elizabeth, I think, your name is ? "

"Yes, ma'am."

"What made you leave home at this hour of the night? Did your mistress send you?" "No."

"Is she so very ill? It seems sudden. I saw Miss Hilary to-day, and she knew nothing at all about it."

Elizabeth shrank a little before the keen eye that seemed to read her through.

"There's more amiss than you have told me, young woman. Is it because your mistress is in serious danger that you want to send for her sister?"

"No."

"What is it, then? You had better tell me at once. I hate concealment."

It was a trial but Elizabeth held her ground.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am ; but I don't think missis would like anybody to know, and therefore I'd rather not tell you."

Now the honest Scotswoman, as she said, hated anything underhand, but she respected the right of every human being to maintain silence if necessary. She looked sharply in Elizabeth's face, which apparently re-assured her, for she said not unkindly,

"Very well, child, keep your mistress' secrets by all means. Only tell me what you want. Shall I take a cab, and fetch Miss Hilary at once ? "

Elizabeth thanked her, but said she thought that would not do; it would be better just to send the note the first thing to-morrow morning, and then Miss Hilary would come home just as if nothing had

happened, and Miss Leaf would not be frightened by her sudden appearance. "You are a good, mindful girl," said Miss Balquidder. "How did you learn to be so sensible ?"

At the kindly word and manner, Elizabeth, bewildered and exhausted with the excitement she had gone through, and agitated by the feeling of having, for the first time in her life, to act on her own responsibility, gave way a little, she did not actually cry, but she was very near it.

Miss Balquidder called over the stairhead, in her quick, imperative voice,"David, is your wife away to her bed yet?"

"No, ma'am." "Then tell her to fetch this young woman to the kitchen, and give her some supper. And afterwards, will you see her safe home? Poor lassie! she's awfully tired, you see." "Yes, ma'am."

And, following David's gray head, Elizabeth, for the first time since she came to London, took a comfortable meal in a com|fortable kitchen, seasoned with such stories of Miss Balquidder's goodness and generosity, that when, an hour after, she went home and to sleep, it was with a quieter and more hopeful spirit than she could have believed possible under the circumstances.

ers is Charles Mackay, the poet, who is at present residing on Staten Island. The following

is the list:

of Surgeons in Ireland, £75, in consideration Dr. John Hart, Fellow of the Royal College of his contributions to the science of anatomy and physiology, and of his being afflicted with blindness and broken health.

Mr. George Rainey, £100, in consideration of his labors in the field of minute anatomy and physiology, and of the many works on the subject which he has given to the public in the Transactions of learned societies without receiving any pecuniary remuneration.

Mrs. Janet Wilson and Miss Jessie Wilson, £100 (a joint pension), in consideration of the eminent services of the late Professor George Wilson, of Edinburgh, as a public teacher and a scientific man.