are afraid of becoming a drunkard ?" And so absurd. did the supposition appear as she looked in Mary's sweet face, that a smile brightened her own pale one at the thought.

"No fear that people will think any such thing," said Mary, now laughing in her turn, "but even if they are so foolish, should that keep me back from doing good?"

"What would it involve on your part Mary ?" asked her mother; "you never take even a glass of wine; why should you pledge yourself?"

"To give my influence weight in gaining others. But it would involve more than my individual abstinence; I should try to persuade you to banish all such articles of drink from our table, for I cannot see any consistency in abstainers offering them to their friends."

"That would be no hardship to me personally, dear," replied Mrs. Lister. "No," she continued with emotion, “I can never desire to taste again the evil thing that has lost to me, for ever, a once good and tender husband, and robbed my children of a father; but still as a matter of hospitality it seems necessary to have something of the kind in the house."

"It only seems so mother, it is not really so; I feel sure that none of the few friends we have will value our society the less for the absence of one article of diet from our table."

"Well, dear Mary, I have no fear that you will do

anything imprudent. I think you may be safely left to act for yourself. "But." added Mrs. Lister, with an arch look, "there is a certain young gentleman who will expect to have some voice in the matter; he is, I suspect, too independent to become an abstainer, for any young lady's sake; even yours, Mary."

"I would not ask him, mother," replied Mary, blushing deeply. "The principle adopted merely to secure the approval of any human being, is little worth, or rather is no principle at all. I have not yet written to Frank on the subject, and can't tell what effect my profession of abstinence will have upon him. Time will tell. But may I conclude, mamma, that you will not shrink from an introduction to Mrs. Bell? "

"As you will, my darling; I can refuse you nothing; and in truth the opinions of the world are of little moment to me."

And so the conference closed, and Mary went to rest that night congratulating herself that one important step was taken in the path she had marked out for her feet.

But I fancy my reader saying, "Ah indeed, Mary is already engaged, is she?”

"Well friend, is there any harm in that?" A wellconducted young lady, nearly nineteen, may surely be considered eligible for an affair of the heart. But the admission thus made necessitates the introduction of other characters upon the scene.

CHAPTER IV.

FRANK.

To-morrow is a day too far

To trust, whate'er the day be,

We know a little, what we are,

But who knows what he may be ?

OWEN MEREDITH.

RANK HAMER was the son of a widow-lady of
Scotch descent. Her husband was an Englishman

of independent fortune and amiable character, who, while visiting in Edinburgh, was attracted by the beauty and accomplishments of the fair Scotswoman, and succeeded in gaining her affections, and in persuading her to accompany him to England as his bride. Two children blessed their union, and added to the happiness which was destined, however, to be of short duration.

Mr. Hamer had purchased a small estate called Fairfield, at Newburn in Yorkshire. During the alterations and improvements he thought it necessary to make before residing upon it, his wife went to stay with her friends in Edinburgh. The two children, Laura and Frank, were with her, and it was decided, on her return to

England, that the little girl, a lovely child of two years and-a-half, should remain with her mother's relatives. some time longer, until affairs were settled in the new home. Her infant son, Frank, returned to Yorkshire with his parents, Mr. Hamer intending to fetch home the little girl as soon as his wife was ready to receive her. The time arrived, and the fond husband took leave of his wife and babe to see them, alas! no more. Reaching Edinburg in safety, he set out after a few days, on his return home. The little girl was delicate, and a short voyage was recommended as likely to be beneficial. Having business in London, therefore, Mr. Hamer determined to go round by sea, the weather being very warm and fine. A fatal choice this proved to be. The vessel in which he sailed was overtaken by a storm, and wrecked within sight of Holy Island, by being dashed upon the rocks. Very few of the passengers escaped with life, and among the lost were numbered Mr. Hamer and his little one.

Grief like that of Mrs. Hamer, when the loss of the vessel was known, and all hope of her husband's life or that of her child having been saved, was at an end, I shall not attempt to describe. For many weeks she lay on a sick-bed, utterly unmindful of all around her; not even the caresses of her little son having power to arouse her from the fearful prostration brought on by excessive anguish. She could not be induced to return to Edinburgh, or to think of quitting the home that

had been adorned for her pleasure by the loved and lost one. Friends from Scotland visited her for months together, and a kind aunt, her nearest relative, took up her abode at Fairfield for a time, and devoted herself to the care and comfort of the young widow. And so, in process of time she once more took an interest in life, and set herself to the work of superintending the education of little Frank, and made some efforts for the good of those around her; for she was of a kind and generous nature, and had abundant means of liberality.

The pleasant villa of Fairfield was situated about half-a-mile from "The Cottage," and the time of Mrs. Hamer's great sorrow became the occasion of a friendship between Mrs. Lister and the widow, which subsequent events only tended to make more close and lasting.

Frank was sent in his tenth year to a first-class school in Edinburgh, for, though Mrs. Hamer preferred living in England, her predilection for Scotch education was strong. From school he was removed to the University in the same city, his mother being willing to spare no expense in the education of her son. So anxious was she that his attainments and manners should reach a high standard, that she sometimes deprived herself of his society, even during the College vacations, and allowed him to travel on the Continent, and to visit the cities of the United Kingdom, in the