quite a butt to those around her. She happened to be the only one of her race in that part of the room; and having but lately come over, that is, about a year before, she was considered fair game for the very poor witticisms of her neighbours, whose attempts at correcting the Irish girl's phraseology sometimes diverted Mary beyond bounds; for she was too well instructed not to discern that the teachers were frequently farther astray from accuracy than their pupil. This she failed not to point out, often with so much humour as quite to overset the spinner's gravity, and to provoke unmeasured resentment on the part of the mortified persons, which they usually contrived to wreak upon poor Katy, as the most effectual way of making Mary excessively angry. Her occasional reports of these matters, cautiously as they were given, convinced her grandmother that she was in a very unsafe position between the two parties, as regarded her own humility and forbearance; but Katy became, from her recitals, an object of such interest to the household, that no one could wish to check Mary in her generous line of conduct towards the poor desolate little creature. There was a press of work; nobody could afford to go home to breakfast, even of those who lived like the Greens, within five minutes' run of the mill; and all took their cans, Mary's always replenished with bread and milk, Katy's with sometimes a spoonful of stirabout, sometimes a broken crust, and not unfrequently empty. "What are you doing there at my can, you little meddling fool ?" said a big girl to Katy one morning. aspect, "take care you don't get some sauce to your breakfasts," and he drew a strap that he was preparing to fix to some part of the machinery through his fingers. "What does this mean?" asked Mary, in a louder tone than was prudent. "Hush!" whispered Katy, "it's a bobbying we'll get, ma'am, if we ben't quiet." "A bobbying!" "Yes; that's a strapping; a very sore thing it is." And the little girl writhed as if under the recollection of such discipline. "Nobody shall bobby me, Katy; and nobody shall bobby you; so make yourself easy. How nicely you have picked my mess! it was all over flue, for I saw it: come, let's see, what have you got for yourself?" "Mine's all done, Miss," and she showed her empty tin; it had evidently contained nothing but water, a few drops of which had trickled down the sides. "Here now, hold it quick, Katy, I have plenty to spare." "Oh no, Miss, avourneen, I've had all I want, and why should I be after robbing you ?" "Do as I bid you: there, sup it up: I wonder," she added, looking round, "which of all you would have refused it." To this challenge no reply was given, but it excited much anger, and before the day was past Mary was made to feel it through her poor little friend. Many of our greatest blessings, the deprivation of which would rob life of its best earthly comforts, are enjoyed from day to day without a thought on the peculiar mercy that makes them ours; or an attempt at computing the amount of pain"Sure, then, 'tisn't your can I'm touch- ful loss that their withdrawal would entail ing, at all; 'tis Miss Mary's own." upon us. Among these every-day advan"Miss Mary forsooth! Why don't you tages is the protection afforded by those say Lady Mary ?" equal laws that recognize the right of "Lady Mary's can," repeated Katy, Englishmen of every class, every age, to with great simplicity. An immoderate roar of laughter followed, in which the spinner joined; Katy blushed, and looked indignant, for she was sure the laugh was at her expense. Just then, Mary returned to her frame from the farther end of the apartment, and a general shout was raised of, "Room for Lady Mary." "What's all this riot about," said the overlooker, approaching with no gentle the fullest protection both of person and property. Those enactments which make the rich man's house his castle embrace with equal efficiency the poor man's hovel The former is guarded from depredations which the latter might, by dint of physical force, commit; and he in his turn is alike shielded from any despotic use that his more lordly neighbour might be disposed to make of superior wealth and influence. Even the domestic sanctuary is overshad owed by this all-pervading genius of our beautiful constitution; and if the prescribed prerogative of parent or husband overpass its legitimate bounds, and offer violence to that immaculate principle, the liberty of the subject, magisterial authority steps in to arrest the uplifted hand by the certainty of retributive infliction should the blow fall; or with that infliction if it has actually fallen. Is there any exemption from this privilege of protection among our country people in the bosom of their own free England? Does slavery, such as our law repudiates, and to which the very act of inhaling British air is supposed to be fatal, dwell and reign over thousands in our most public, most populous cities? This question must be answered by an appeal to facts and should the charge that so it is be substantiated by the evidence adduced, the next inquiry is, Shall this state of things be allowed to continue ? CHAPTER IX. INCREASING TROUBLES. of conduct so inconsistent with the ingen- A SHORT period sufficed to show the widow Green the nature of the difficulties in which she had been plunged, in common with thousands more; and which ut- | terly defied her skill when she cast about for some means of extrication. The gradual decline of many comforts, the increase of privation, and pressure of anxiety as regarded worldly things, were felt as flesh will feel them. The consciousness of having been deceived, entrapped, and fraudfully expatriated from the scene of long respectability and the bosom of a friendly neighbourhood, wounded her natural feel- James alone retained the characteristics ings, and mortified the pride that con- that had but a while ago distinguished stantly lurks in every human heart. But them all; but his bodily health declined these were light afflictions indeed com- with a rapidity that startled her. His appared with the poignancy of her self-re- petite remained, and many a morsel did proach when contemplating, as she was she contrive to spare from the cravings of compelled to do, the change that came her own stomach to replenish his plate; over the children of her love. Helen was but the food seemed to impart no nourishevidently unhappy, and as evidently strove ment; he became more pallid, more lanto conceal from her the cause of her de- guid and enfeebled, as she looked for the jection, while positively denying that it reverse. He was uncomplaining, neverarose from bodily fatigue or illness; a line theless; mild, dutiful, and affectionate. His Bible became more precious, and | called him to order. Mary had an air of though he never reproved the waywardness of Mary, or noticed the change in Willy, he evidently strove to supply their lack of attention to their aged friend. To Helen his attachment seemed always on the increase; and of the few smiles that lighted up her thoughtful countenance, the greater number were drawn forth by the poor boy's endeavours to fix her attention on cheering subjects. Insensibly he became the chief bond of union among them; for though Mary frequently wreaked her peevishness on him, and Willy resented his discouraging looks when he indulged in bad language among themselves, his meek endurance disarmed all unfriendly feeling, and the invalid was dearly loved by all. Matters proceeded thus, without any material change, for some weeks. Occasionally they visited Sarah, whose mind had evidently been awakened to the importance of spiritual things, though her knowledge was yet very scanty, and her fears strong. About two months after the entrance of the children on their employment in the mills, Sarah's birthday occurred; and, as it fell on a Saturday, when they left work earlier than on other days, the widow could not refuse the poor girl's earnest request that they would all join in celebrating it. It was the first time the two families had assembled since the Greens had quitted that abode, and great appeared the change produced on some of the party, in the eyes of their common parent. Sarah had been dressed with some care, and of course looked better; but the chief alteration appeared in her countenance, which, from being distressingly vacant, had become animated, even to restlessness. She seemed to watch for every word that fell, as if it might convey some new information to her mind; and the dread of her mother, which formerly kept her silent, was so far diminished as to render her frowns and ill-natured speeches ineffectual to check the girl's occasional remarks. Charles of course encouraged her in the unwonted freedom of talking, to annoy his mother. Willy soon got into a corner with his youngest cousin, and they remained apart from the rest, in noisy mirth, which on Willy's part seemed to increase whenever his grandmother importance about her, that evidently amused Charles, who said many ridiculous things, in a complimentary strain, to increase it; and the sickliness of James' looks was rendered more conspicuous by the compassionate remarks they drew forth from his aunt. But nothing struck the widow so much as the extraordinary change in Helen's aspect. On their entrance, she had noticed an encounter of glances between her and Phoebe, marked on the part of the latter by a degree of scornful, malicious derision that could not escape the notice of the most heedless looker-on; while Helen's usual expression of retiring modesty gave place to one strangely foreign from her natural aspect. On meeting Phoebe's halfopened eyes, her own expanded, and fixed in a gaze almost a stare of proud and high defiance, under which the other presently quailed, though the contemptuous curl of her lip, as she dropped the long lashes, gave her the aspect of disgust, rather than of conscious guilt. Still Helen flinched not: her eyes were rivetted on the downcast face, and she stood erect, the very personification of indignant, haughty disdain. Could it be Helen Fleetwood,-the gentle, retiring maiden, the subdued young Christian, to whom even the aged pilgrim secretly looked up as a pattern of that "meekness of wisdom" which she had prayerfully inculcated, and praisefully marvelled at, as its growth exceeded her most sanguine hopes? the enigma was no less painful than strange; nor did her perplexity decrease when Helen, who was generally the last to speak, and whose soft tones fell almost whisperingly on the ear, abruptly turned, without advancing from her position right over against Phœbe, and addressing the poor sick girl, said, in a full, firm voice, "My dearest Sarah, has the Lord given you better health since I saw you last?" "Yes, Helen dear, I am really better, thank you,” Helen had again turned to Phœbe, and watched her for a moment after this reply was given; then with a half smile, and a slight toss of the head, she crossed over to the invalid, saluted her affectionately, and in a tone more like her wonted one, but still much louder than usual, said "It is "It was not of myself I spoke, ma'am," replied Helen quietly. God, not me, you should thank, dear | poor foolish girl than her own flesh and Sarah, who has brought you to see this blood! Such impudence"day: and that he may grant you many more happy returns of it I heartily beseech him." She then took off her bonnet, adjusted her hair, and sat down with the same air of independent self-possession. "Dear!" said Mrs. Wright, with affected admiration, "how soon some people rub off their rust in the mills?" A suppressed titter from Charles was the only notice taken of this; and his mother resumed, "Mary looks as uppish too as any body quite a change, I declare." "To be sure," replied Charles, "who would not feel their own respectability, and be proud of it, among such a ragamuffin set as we factory people are ?" "Pride," said the widow, "was not made for man, in any station; and least of all for humble day-labourers like us." No answer was given; and matters went on much as has been described, until Wright's entrance, with some cakes, gave signal for the tea-table to be surrounded. A restraint was evident on all the party except Helen and Sarah, who took and kept the lead in conversation. There seemed to be an understanding between them that puzzled the widow, and excessively annoyed Mrs. Wright. "It's a long while since I had so many friends about me on a birth-day," said Sarah. "That's false," retorted her mother; "but I dare-say you reckon one new friend as good as two old ones." "The oldest friend I have, mother, is the newest to me; and worth a hundred others." The party looked at her with astonishment; only three of them understood the paradox, and to them it was a source of deep joy. A glance passed between Phoebe and her mother, the purport of which was caught by Charles, whose face almost blackened with anger as he scowled at them both. "That Friend," observed Helen, "will never leave you nor forsake you.” Mrs. Wright's rage here broke forth: "Upon my word, young woman, this isn't to be borne. You, a beggarly stranger, come here by my mother's means; and Bet yourself up to be a better friend to that "And pray, ma'am, if a body may be so bold as to ask, who was it?" "Jesus Christ," answered Sarah. "Hold your crazy tongue, you idiot," vociferated Mrs. Wright; must you turn canting hypocrite too ?" The widow interposed, for she saw a storm gathering in the countenance of Charles. "Daughter, that blessed name speaks only of love, peace, and joy: let it not be made an occasion of strife." "My maxim," said Wright, "is that there can be no quarrelling except two people agree to it: and I hardly think there are two in this little family party to agree to make poor Sarah's birth-day an uncomfortable day to her. So now let's have an end of all squabbles." Calm was restored; but no change came over Helen. She retained the same air of conscious superiority, fixing, from time to time, the same full, undaunted gaze upon Phoebe, and frequently addressing Sarah in terms of fondness. Charles never once looked at her, neither did Phoebe, but every sound of her voice appeared to bring a sly sneer on the girl's face; which was indeed formed to wear such an expression. All this distressed the widow Green. She looked round upon her children, and in none could she trace any thing wherein to rejoice, save in James and Sarah; both of whom were evidently fading like summer blossoms. She thought of past scenes of her little cottage with its plain white walls, the honeysuckle that clustered around the casement; the song of birds from a neighbouring thicket; and the bright faces, the clear merry voices within, that harmonized so sweetly with them. Again her thoughts reverted to the old churchyard, where her dear Richard was perhaps even then slowly tracing the pathway near his parents' grave, on the return from a day's healthful labour in his native fields. She dwelt on the promise of his character, the hope that in after. years he would prove a valuable servant of that Master in whose fear and love she had carefully trained him and as this And Oh, may this my portion be- were given with unrestrained energy by bright picture of her mind darkened with the contrast of the reality then before her, tears swelled in her eyes, and her spirit almost breathed the murmuring inquiry, "Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" A deep silence followed, which was Helen marked her emotion; and it was strangely broken by a forced hysterical happy for herself that she did. Even the laugh from Phoebe, while at the same mopang which at that moment rang the wid-ment Charles quitted the room, slamming ow's bosom was among the "all things" the door violently after him. No notice that worked for good to those afflicted was taken, and the party soon separated, children of God. Oh, if it was given to Helen's last look, ere she passed out, being such to know the end from the beginning, fixed on Phœbe, who had, however, turned how lovely in their eyes would be the her back immediately after bidding Mrs. most affrighting of dispensations, seeing Green good night. that each is shaped to promote that end of their faith-the salvation of their souls, the meetness that must be wrought in them for the incorruptible inheritance already prepared! But the tree of forbidden knowledge was a tree af spiritual darkness, ignorance, and sorrow: it opens man's eyes to present afflictions, but closes them against the peaceable fruits of righ-her, and burst into a violent fit of weeping. teousness that spring therefrom, when once he has been made a partaker in the faith and hope of the gospel. When the time for speaking of going home had arrived, Helen inquired of Sarah whether she did not wish them to sing before they parted; an assent was given, but with a flush on the cheek and a look of evident anxiety. Helen waited not any farther encouragement; she called the children to her, and at once took the lead in that exquisite hymn, Jesus, and shall it ever be A mortal man ashamed of thee! Often had the solemn strain resounded from the walls of their distant cottage; often had it been carolled on the cliff that overhung their romantic sea-view; and within their antique church it was a favourite selection with Mr. Barlow; but never had the widow Green heard it breathed in tones so thrilling as those which now issued from the lips of her foster-child. The voice of the girl lost none of its sweetness; but there was a fulness, a depth, a fervency, and a solemn pathos added, that struck every hearer as something extraordinary. They sang it throughout; and in the last verse but one, the feeble voice of Sarah tremblingly joined them, gathering strength until the concluding lines James was greatly fatigued; Willy scarcely able to keep awake through their evening devotions; and the widow soon found herself alone with Helen, to whom she resolved at once to speak on the subject of her inexplicable conduct: but before she could open it, the girl suddenly sank on her knees, threw her arms around Although trembling with the anticipations of something very distressing, the old woman forbore to check this burst of natural feeling. She pressed poor Helen's head to her shoulder, and allowed her to sob without restraint, until, looking up, she exclaimed, "My granny, my own best and only friend, I have added to your troubles by trying to avoid it: forgive me-I would not have concealed any thing from you only that I knew it would grieve you: but I saw by your looks this evening how sad you felt, and that my behaviour distressed you. I will now tell you all." "Compose yourself first my love: you have been sadly excited this evening, and that is a thing you are not used to." "Not till I came to the mills, granny: but now I am indeed used to it. Oh, you don't know," she added with a fresh burst of tears, "what it has cost me to keep it all to myself; and already I feel happier since I told you even thus much." "But did you not tell it to a better Friend, Helen?" "I did indeed: how else could I have held out? But, granny, it is hard to walk by faith, always resting upon what one cannot see, with none upon earth to pity and console us." The widow felt that it was; yet wondered that Helen should have deprived herself of the sympathy and counsel so |