"His servant, Mr. Phipps, calls him Mr. James," she continued, "and leads him about everywhere."

"Leads him about!" said Admiral Collings, "what does the woman mean ?-is he a maniac?"

"No, sir," responded Mrs. Dobson, gravely, "but he is almost wholly blind; and Mr. Phipps says that his grandpa is demented about it, and declares it was brought on by over-much study; and he worried the poor dear young gentleman so much about it, that Mr. Phipps says the oculists agreed with the physicians in recommending a change of residence, meaning absence from his tiresome grandfather, no doubt. Mr. Phipps said that Mr. James desired to come here of his own accord. No doubt he had heard from some friend of 'Dobson's Nursery Grounds,' for we have had many real gentlefolks here, sir, as you are aware of."

Mrs. Dobson assumed an air of dignity as she said this, but it was lost on old Admiral Collings, who was deep in thought, saying, as if to himself, "Mr. James, they call him-well, it's odd -ten years and more ago, too-just about the time."

"Here is Mr. James, coming this way," whispered Mrs. Dobson, as a fair young man approached, of slight and graceful figure, whose closed eyes threw over a peculiarly sweet countenance that indescribable expression of holy repose, so often to be seen in the blind. He leant slightly on the arm of his servant, and held his hat in the other hand, courting the refreshing breeze, which played amongst his waving locks.

Admiral Collings rose from his seat as the blind young man came near, with eager and searching eyes intently devouring each lineament. The conviction of identity was conclusive in the veteran's mind, and he approached the stranger's side, saying, in an impressive tone, " Next time the lilacs blossom, there may be hope, Jamie !"

The youth started at the recollected voice, and a deep flush rose even to his temples, as he replied, "Who is it that speaks in the old familiar language of my childhood? The voice I recognise, but alas! I cannot see the form."

"Ah! I am right-it is he-I thought so!" exclaimed the admiral, in a delighted manner, clasping the passive hand which rested on the servant's arm, who with puzzled looks regarded the grey

haired veteran.

"Don't you recollect cross old Collings, with the wooden leg ?" he continued," and little Milly, who was so fond of your gathering mulberries for her, Jamie? Ah! there stands the fine old tree; but Milly don't care for mulberries now. She's grown a bonny lass, and a comfort to her father's heart. Now don't you remember who it is that speaks, even as you are remembered, Jamie?”

A tear trickled down the cheek of the blind, chased away by a radiant smile, as he replied, "Yes, yes, light is dawning; again I

clamber among the branches of the dear old tree, and see the lovely child standing beneath, holding out her hand for more, more!' But has not the man outgrown the boy? and how have you recognised me, Admiral Collings? I did not expect to find persons here who would have discovered me."

"Dismiss your attendant," whispered the admiral, "and we may then discourse more freely.”

"You may retire, Phipps, for awhile," said the blind man mildly to his servant; 66 my old friend Admiral Collings will be my guide."

When they were alone, he turned his sightless orbs towards the latter, as if in expectation of his speaking; and the worthy veteran, much affected, proceeded to unfold the fact of his acquaintance with Sir Marmaduke Stratton's family affairs, and also with Sir Marmaduke himself. "I put this-I put that together," quoth he, sagaciously; "I saw you, and doubt fled. I know what a life he has led you, my poor fellow, for he was a martinet, with a vengeance!"

"Hush, hush, Admiral Collings," said James Stratton, seriously, "I must not listen to any reflections on my grandfather,—my lost father's parent."

“Ah, Jamie, you were always a good lad, always hopeful; but woe is me! Jamie, for the one-legged old sailor to behold the lilac blossoms, and for darkness to cover your bright young eyes. Milly never sees the lilac flowers without thinking of little Jamie, with his serious face, plaintively saying, 'Not this time, perhaps, but next time the lilacs bloom, and Jamie must be patient.'

""

"And Jamie must be patient still," said the blind youth, cheerfully, "and live in hopes again to behold the lilacs blossom, although the hope of childhood has fled. Ah, Admiral Collings, as I watched and waited for an earthly father, so ought I for a Heavenly one; and He may yet incline His ear to be gracious. What are riches without the precious gift of sight? But much I need my childhood's motto to be engraven on my rebellious heart, -that Jamie must be patient.""

*

It was a day of joy to Mrs. Dobson, when she waited on two such great men as Sir Marmaduke Stratton and Admiral Collings, seated side by side in her garden, cracking jokes, and on the most amicable footing possible. Sir Marmaduke being deaf, the admiral bawled loudly to make him hear, and loud enough for Mrs. Dobson to over-hear.

"Ay, ay, there they are, a pair of turtle-doves; but she's gathering mulberries for him now! Who'd have thought that Peter Lewison's little nephew, and my Milly, would be man and wife!" "Dobson's Nursery Ground" still continued a

In after years,

favourite resort with Sir James and Lady Stratton, particularly at the season when the lilacs were in full glory.

"I never beheld the beautiful blossoms so luxuriant as they are this year, Milly," said Sir James.

She replied, laughing, "So you say every year," adding, with serious tenderness, "Since the light returned to you, dearest, they have appeared lovelier than ever."

"And should a time of trial or darkness visit us again, my love, (and from such who is totally exempt?) may we, with returning spring and lilac blossoms, learn a lesson of hope and patience!"

"The sweetest lesson I ever learnt was a simple and a short one," replied Milly, affectionately, "and I teach it to our children when disappointments vex them,- Not this time, but next time the lilacs blossom, perhaps your wishes may be fulfilled; and Jamie must be patient.”

C. A. M. W.

LUCY ASHCROFT.

We have seen how Christmas-eve was spent in the cave on the wild, barren moor. How fared it with the dwellers of the Hall? The banquet-room was, as we have said, filled with guests, who had been gathered together from all parts. The tables were laden with choicest delicacies, and groaned beneath the weight of gold and silver. The solemn time for watching marked out by the Church, and gladly obeyed by her faithful children, who long to catch the angels' notes, as it were, floating on the air, was a time for worldly mirth and worldly revelry, for unholy rioting and banqueting. The houseless poor, the unfed, the unclothed, were unthought of by those who were forgetful of their LORD and Master. The wine passed quickly round, the mirthful jest was heard, the compliments of the season were passed from one to another, and all seemed as if for them the morrow had no cloud. In the gallery above, the minstrels were stationed as of old, the only reminiscence of days gone by. They did not, as of old, use their voices, and tune their instruments in praise of Him Who lay in a lowly manger, because there was no room for Him in the inn. Not strains of heavenly music were those that then charmed the ears of the listening guests; not strains like those which many a time and oft, in days gone by, when lord and vassal met at a common table, and the simple fare decked the board, had made that old hall the abode of joy and gladness during Christmas-tide. Snatches of operatic music, or worldly songs, unseemly for such a night as this, were all that they cared to hear.

The evening was thus prolonged until near that midnight hour, when first the "Gloria in Excelsis" burst upon the listening shep

herds' entranced ears, as they watched their flocks by night. All at once the music ceased; all at once the faces of the mirthful became pale as death. Hushed is now the busy hum within. A hoarse, yet loud and deafening cry is heard without, the cry of many voices, like to the roar of the maddened waves, as they uplift themselves. Nearer and nearer came the sound, until the tramping of the feet of hundreds was distinctly heard, and struck terror into the hearts just now so free from thought and care. It was as the writing on the wall, was the loud-raised cry of the famishing poor, as they neared the house where luxury and grandeur had their home.

Mr. Ashcroft had the courage to look from his window, and his eye fell upon crowds of workmen, whose pale, careworn faces looked more ghastly pale, as the light of the torches they carried in their hands fell upon them.

"Down wi' it, down wi' it, to t' ground!" were the only cries he heard.

His friends clustered round him, as they saw how deeply he was moved. Nothing could soothe the anguish of his mind, as he heard fresh threats of vengeance and execrations. It was evident that he was regarded as a tyrant, and that there was a fixed determination marked on every countenance before him.

He endeavoured to speak, but the maddened shouts of the infuriated mob drowned his every word. At length the foreman came forward to the front of the men, and said, "Quiet, lads, it weunt harm us to hear what he's gotten to say; and as I've telled ye afore, it is better if we can get our own quietly, than wi' violence. And now, sir," turning to Mr. Ashcroft, "what is you've gotten to tell us? Here we are, amost clemm'd to death. I mind me weel o' mony a Christmas neet, different to the loiks o' this, when we used to go to Church, as we should ha'e been to-neet, and sing sweet carols, and hear o' Him Who becum poor for poor men, that they might be rich. A well-a-day! the curse o' the poor is gone up against you, and the curse o' the poor will work. If nobbut old times wad cum again, when maester and men luked on each other as childer o' God, and as our old parson used to say, members o' one family, my old een wad ne'er a' seen such an a neet as this."

"Quiet, man," exclaimed Mr. Ashcroft, "what are the old times to me? The doating fool thinks he's nought to do but lecture his betters. I care no more for the old times than they care for me, and that's not much. Ring the alarm bell, and let us see whether we shall not soon disperse this crowd of grumblers."

66

Ay, ring the bell, and welcome," met his ear; "all i' the village is here, except the childer as is a-bed, an' small help they'll gi'e you. An' we knawe your bell canna reach t'ull th' next

teawn."

It was in vain that any further parley was attempted. The bell was rung; the master turned a deaf ear to all, whether entreaties or threats; and the work of demolition had begun.

"Down wi' it, lads, down wi' it! Bread, bread, we mun and will ha'e! But, lads, mind Miss Lucy; have a care o' her, and doan't touch a hair o' her head. She's an angel !"

The crowd burst into the house; the remains of the banquet were still about, and, conscious of their own safety, and the impossibility of any assistance being rendered, they satisfied the claims of hunger, before they proceeded further. Meanwhile Lucy, in her oratory, knelt and prayed that GOD would give her strength to bear with resignation the blow she had endeavoured to avert, and yet deliver them from the hands of the blood-thirsty men. At length, as she heard them approach the room whither her father and friends had retired for safety, she rushed forward, and prayed them to pause. But her words were, unheard. A struggle brief and fierce ensued, in which the defenders were worsted, and Mr. Greenwood lay on the floor, apparently dead.

Then again Lucy came forward from beside her father's prostrate form. “Men, if men ye are,” she calmly said, "hear a woman's prayers. I am now at your mercy. My father lies there all-but dead. He does just breathe, and that is all; in a short time he may be no more. Do be gone; leave your cause in my hands. Ye have not surely come merely to shed the blood of those whom you are bound to serve, and destroy their property? No: this cannot be. Ye say ye want justice; away, then, and leave your cause to me. There is a GOD above Who marks all this; there is a GoD above Who hears the cries of them that call unto Him. O, then, leave me now, and do not break my heart!"

"So be it," cried the old foreman, as tears trickled down his face. "We wadna harm you, no, nor maester nauther; and we'll do as you wish. But mind'ee, Mistress Lucy, we shall luke for you to be as good as your word, and try to help them to right, as suffers wrong."

Gradually they retreated from the hall they had occupied, and in a few short hours it was desolate; for the guests too quitted it, as an unsafe place. The morning dawn found the frail Lucy a faithful nurse by her father's bedside; for still he breathed, and there were faint hopes of his recovery.

Saint Augustine said, "Quicquid boni est in mundo," &c.: what good things soever we have here, it is either past, present, or to come. If past, it's nothing; if to come, it's uncertain; if present, it's yet insuffi. cient and unsatisfactory.

The Emperors of Constantinople on their coronation-day had a mason

appointed to present unto them certain monumental stones, using the ensuing words, "Elege ab his," &c., thus translated,—

"Choose, mighty sir, under which of these stones

Your pleasure is ere long to lay your bones."

Old Book.