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himself, men will do well for him. To be humble and poor in spirit may win a place in heaven, where there is room enough and to spare ; but in this overcrowded world of ours, where each man is jostling his neighbour for standing-room, he who sounds his own trumpet the loudest will have by far the best chance of success.
It would be a sad as well as a useless task to follow Helen along the weary way that never led her to the goal of her hopes, namely, the means of earning her own living by the exertion of her own energies of mind and body. She spent months in vain endeavours and in fruitless efforts, and at last found herself in the great-peopled desert of London, friendless and well-nigh moneyless. For her being in a position so dismal and forlorn the brother who had selfishly fleeced her was answerable; for he had indeed tried her to the utmost, and had at last put the finishing stroke to his follies and to her anxieties by enlisting in a Cavalry regiment about to proceed to India on active service. He had written to her, entreating that she would meet him and bid him “God speed' before he left his native land, perhaps to return no more; and his sister could not resist the appeal.
It was a melancholy leave-taking; for a sight which those who witness it do not readily forget is the rending asunder of husbands and wives, children and parents, lovers and their betrothed; and long, long afterwards does the heart-wringing melody swelling out in the Cheer boys, cheer,' and the invocation to The girl I left behind me,' come back upon the memory as an echo of those dismal partings.
As the weary, but to the end unselfish sister, standing on the deck of the huge warsteamer, pressed her last kiss on the cheek of that foolish, reckless boy, she forgot his misdeeds, and her heart seemed going with him to the battle-field on whose cold bosom he might so soon be stretched. It was hard to see him go. He had drained her purse till it was almost dry, he had devoured her living with harlots and wasted her substance in riotous living. He had forgotten her in his wild extravagance ; forgotten that should be perish, all chance of repaying her for her sacrifices and her devotion would be at an end. But what were these things to her? He was her brother still, her only brother, and so, forgiving all, she with her heart heavy, with foreboding fears, saw him go forth upon his way.
Were we to relate how humble were the offices Helen would have agreed to fill, if only she had been considered worthy to do so, the account would scarcely be believed. She was not permitted to wait by the sick-beds of wounded soldiers, or to wear out her strength and nerves by tending the insane or the epileptic. No “asylum,' of any kind, would engage her as an attendant; and the humblest servant's place was shut against her. No sinner need apply;' verily if this rule of exclusion were strictly adhered to, small indeed
to Mercy.” 95 would be the number of those by whom * situations' would be obtained.
Helen, as we have shown, failed utterly, and thus it was that she found herself at last alone in her dismal attic, with but a few shillings in her possession, and with no earthly friend to temper the wind of adversity that blew upon her.
On that rainy February day when the wanderer stood shivering beneath the archway in Lincoln's Inn Fields, she had in the early morning bethought her of one to whom she could apply in her need with a hope that he would assist her with his advice, and put her in the way of obtaining the object of her wishes. This person was a solicitor of some repute, and an old acquaintance of her father's, who lived, or rather he got his living,' in Lincoln's Inn.
With difficulty she had found his chambers; but, alas, when she had succeeded, and had read the name she sought in large black letters on the dingy door-post, she found to
her great disappointment that Mr. was absent. There were several clerks writing, or seeming to write, in a small room into which she found entrance through a swingdoor; and one of them, after reminding her that it was Saturday, on which day his employer never attended to business, laid down his pen, and stared at her. The tired woman turned from those not very respectful-looking young men, discouraged and heart-sick; but before the green door closed behind her, she was recalled by a question from the oldest of the clerks :
Would she leave a message ? Could le be of any service to her ?' And he winked a knowing wink at his companions.
Helen thanked him, but she would leave no card, nor was her business one of importance; and so she left them. The young men of business commented on her anxious, eager manner, and on her pale, but still lovely face; and one of them-he of the knowing wink--suggested that it was 'a case of