PROVIDING AGAINST THE EVIL DAY. ALTHOUGH Englishmen are a diligent, hard-working, and, generally, self-reliant race, trusting to themselves and their own efforts for their sustenance and advancement in the world, they are yet liable to overlook and neglect some of the best practical methods of improving their position, and securing their social well-being. We are not yet sufficiently educated to be temperate, provident, and foreseeing. We live for the present, and are too regardless of the coming time. Men who are husbands and parents, generally think they do their duty if they provide for the hour that is, neglectful of the hour that is to come. Though industrious, we are improvident; though money-making, we are spendthrift. We do not exercise forethought enough; and we are defective in the virtue of prudent economy. This, we think, is proved by the neglect still too prevalent among all classes, of the practice of Life Assurance. We often hear of men who, otherwise, have been diligent and useful members of society, dying, and leaving their wives and families in absolute poverty. They lived in respectable style, paid high rents for their houses, dressed well, kept up good visiting acquaintance, were seen at most places of amusement, and brought up their children with certain ideas of social position and respectability; but death has stricken them down, and now what is the situation of their families? Has the father provided for their future? From twenty to twenty-five pounds a year, paid into a Life Assurance Society, would have secured their widows and children against want. Have they performed this duty? No-they have done nothing of the kind; it turns out that the family has been living up to their means, if not beyond them, and the issue is, that they are thrown suddenly bankrupt on the world. Now, we call this conduct not only thoughtless and improvident, but heartless and cruel in the last degree. To bring a family into the world, educate them into refined tastes, and accustom them to comforts, the loss of which is misery, and then to leave that family to the workhouse, the prison, or the street-to the alms of relatives, or the charity of the public,-is nothing short of a crime done against society as well as against the unfortunate individuals who are the immediate sufferers. [PRICE 14d. lay by a sufficient store of capital for the benefit of their families, in event of their death, is, in these times of intense competition and low profits, comparatively small. Perhaps the claims of an increasing family absorb nearly all their gains, and they find the sum which they can put away in the bank is so small that it is not put away at all, and they become reckless of ever attaining so apparently hopeless an object as that of an accumulation of savings, for the benefit of their families at death. But the beautiful expedient of Life Assurance here presents itself, and at once solves the difficulty. By this arrangement, so strikingly illustrative of the beneficent power of co-operation, a man is enabled at once to provide a comfortable provision for his family in event of his decease, by depositing with a Life Assurance Company a small periodical contribution, monthly, quarterly, or annually-the condition being the payment of a round sum, the amount of the assurance policy, to his family at his death. And yet, notwithstanding the obvious advantages of this system of Life Assurance, not more than one in twenty of the persons belonging to those classes to whom this practice is especially applicable, have yet availed themselves of its benefits. To what are we to attribute this neglect, if not to improvidence, want of prudent forethought, and even culpable disregard of the claims of others upon us? There are various ways of illustrating the advantages of Life Assurance. But we shall suppose a case-that of a young man, newly married, and just commenced business. By-and-by a family springs up; his gains are not great, and he finds he has difficulty in saving money. His capital is small, his expenses are considerable, and his family increasing. He thinks that if life could be secured to him, he might succeed in storing up a competency for them; but life is uncertain, and he feels that he may be cut off in the midst of his struggles. He is harassed by the thought of the destitution of those whom he loves as his own life; and this thought, constantly pressing upon him, robs him of present enjoyment. He bethinks himself of effecting a Life Assurance; he feels that, by denying himself some little luxuries which he can do well enough without, he can set aside five or ten shillings a week, and invest it in a good office. If he is thirty, ten shillings a week, or twenty-five pounds a year, will secure the payment of a sum of It will be admitted, that the number of men who can £1,000 to his family, in event of his decease. He deter mines to carry his project into effect. He is at once stimulated to the exercise of increased industry and efforts; he feels more of a man as he carries his resolution into force; he is instigated by the meritorious sense of duty, and grows better and stronger with the occasion. He insures; and, at once, his mind is set at rest, conscience approving of the act. From the day on which his first instalment is paid, his family is rescued from want, although he died the very next day; he has secured them against poverty, and all its sorrows and privations, for, say what we may of the salutary schoolings of poverty, it is a condition from which all wise and prudent men will, as far as lies in their power, endeavour to rescue those whom they have made dependent on them for subsistence and comfort. tion that can be urged against it, and it is only to be regretted that the practice is not far more general and accustomed than it is amongst all classes of the community. Some will be ready to say,-"We can't afford it." This objection may be put forward by one who expends at the rate of £200, £300, or £400 a year, and even more. Is it not clear enough that all of these men might live under their incomes if they early formed the resolution to do so, and determined to commence life by setting apart every year a small portion of their earnings in a Life Assurance Society? Everybody knows that there are far more persons who have incomes under than above the amounts we have named, and who yet manage to bring up their families comfortably and respectably. There are very few persons, even of the most limited means, who cannot afford to lay aside one shilling a week, or say £2 28. 7d. yearly, commencing at 25, to provide £100 at death. The sacrifice of some temporary gratification, perhaps very easy to forego, would secure such a sun, and save much sorrow and privation to the And there are very many individuals who might lay by a larger sum, weekly, to secure a corresponding greater benefit. About eight shillings a week, or equivalent to a sum of £21 a year, invested in a Life Assurance at 25, would secure no less a sum than £1,000 at death; and there are many professional men, tradesmen of the middle classes, and even of the higher order of mechanics, who might, by some degree of self-denial, effect this amount of saving, and secure for their families the ultimate benefits it is calculated to confer. Now, in the case we have supposed, had the young man yearly deposited in a bank, at 3 per cent. interest, the contributions which he thus made to the Assurance Society, it would have taken some five-and-twenty years before it could have amounted to the thousand pounds, the amount of his Policy, payable to his family at death. Even supposing he had lived these five-and-helpless. twenty years, it will be obvious how much he has saved in mental satisfaction and quiet, not to mention what he has gained in the stimulus which this effort to provide satisfactorily for his family has imparted to his character. He may have succeeded in business in the mean time, and gone on accumulating in other ways; but here has been a fund secured-a certain provision, which might be relied on in the event of his labours being cut short by death. And, even although he should live beyond the period required to enable him to contribute the full amount of his policy, there is the provision made in the Mutual The practice of Life Assurance peculiarly commends Assurance offices, by which he shares in the accumulating itself to the notice of the working classes generally. They profits of the Society of which he is a member, either in are so circumstanced as not to be able to accumulate the shape of a diminished annual payment, or an increase savings, except by small contributions. From their in the sum assured by way of bonus. By the accumula-weekly or monthly wages, a large proportion of them tion of such bonuses, the amount insured may, in the course of an average long life, be nearly doubled, without any increase in the original premium. might, by economy and self-denial, effect such an amount of insurance as would secure their wives and families against want in event of their decease. Forecast and Life Assurance may shortly be described as a Joint-prudence require such exercise of economy and self-denial, Stock plan of securing widows and children against destitution. It may be regarded in the light of a contract among those assuring their lives together, by which the inequalities of life are compensated, so that those who do not live to an average age, or rather their families, shall be sharers in the good fortune of those who live longer. Its leading feature and object is, to provide a reliabie fund for widows and children, in event of the death of the husband, the father, the bread-winner, by which they may be saved from penury and destitution. It affords the means of at once forming a fund, by those who have no other means of storing up accumulations of property. The reasons which induce a man to insure his house and stock of goods against the accident of fire, ought to be still more imperative in inducing him to insure his life against the accident of disease and the contingency of sudden death. What is worldly prudence in the one case, is something more in the other; it has superadded the duty of providing for the future maintenance of a possibly widowed wife, and orphaned children; and no man can justly stand excused who neglects so great and binding an obligation. Is it an obligation on the part of a husband and father to provide daily bread for his wife and children during his life? Then it is equally an obligation on his part to provide means for their adequate support in event of his death. The duty is so obvious, the means of performing it are so simple, and now so placed within the reach of nearly all men,—the arrangement is so eminently practical, rational, benevolent and just,-it is, moreover, so calculated to increase a reflective and prudent man's sense of self-respect, and to encourage him in the performance of all proper social duties, that we cannot conceive of any possible objec even on the part of the poorest. Such forecast and prudence tend to elevate a man, and raise him above the animal: they extend his thoughts beyond the mere gratification of the wants of the day, and raise him in the | scale of social being. It is a mistake to suppose that life assurance is the luxury of the rich; it is far more the necessity of the working man. Let us see how he may accomplish it. A glass of beer a day is equivalent to £2 5s. a year, or sufficient to insure a man's life, commencing at twenty, for £130 at death. Two ounces of tobacco a week are equal to an expenditure of £1 10s. a year, or sufficient to insure a man's life, commencing at the same age, for £95. How many working men are there who, to the great benefit of their physical health, might give up these indulgences, and secure the great benefits we have indicated for their families? Is it not worthy of a great effort on their part, to throw up a barricade against the future want and misery that may otherwise overwhelm them? For, it is an appalling fact, that the death of every thousand heads of families leaves at least four thousand women and children in poverty, unless some such provision as that we are now pointing out, has been previously secured. Let not working men, any more than the men of any other class, think that help worth anything is to be got, save from themselves. Those who look to the patronage of others for aid, will invariably be deceived in the end. Charity and patronage do quite as much harm as good; they destroy the native energies of those who are subject to them. The true patriot spirit is self-help: this is the root of all virtue, knowledge, freedom, and prosperity. Men must, as individuals, exert themselves to better their come. individual condition. Men must raise themselves-must life," as though his humble occupation had been of the work out their own salvation, It is out of such efforts that the greatness, strength, and true glory of a people Here we have pointed out a great moral and social duty, which none can perform for us, but which we each, to the extent of our power and means, can do for ourselves. It is one of the first obligations of the man who is called by the names "husband" and "father." It is not an obligation impossible to perform-life assurance, to a greater or less extent, is within the means of nearly all men. Twenty millions a year are spent on intoxicating drinks in this country. Let the same amount be expended on life assurance, and how infinitely would the moral and social condition of all classes be advanced thereby! FICKLENESS; A TALE OF WEST YORKSHIRE. Ir there was a man in our suburban neighbourhood whose history would interest you, perhaps it was Westwood Fountain. As a wealthy landed proprietor, he was held in great respect, and our village belman, who was fond of the wonderful and the extreme in every thing, used to say "the Squire at Beech Grove could bed his horses with bank-notes, and was able to buy up all the parish, live and dead stock together." He was a bachelor, and inherited a princely fortune, bequeathed to him by his uncle, a rich East India merchant, who had taken him when a child, and reared him as the sole heir to his vast possessions. Before the demise of his uncle, Mr. Fountain was a sleeping partner in a very respectable mercantile firm in a central part of the West Riding of Yorkshire. But the requisite qualifications for a man of business were by no means the distinctive features of his character. He was "all by turns, and nothing long." Unfortunately, as I shall endeavour to show, this was a fatal failing to himself, and was also a cankering blight to others. He was, to all appearance, full of energy for every new undertaking that presented itself; but the flame was soon over, and he had scarcely attached himself to a fresh light, ere it began to flicker and die out. As a merchant, his money was the only serviceable portion he gave to his partners in trade. It was ever the wish of the old East India merchant to see his nephew an industrious plodding tradesman. Mr. Fountain was quite sensible of this, and also of the necessity of making an appearance of business habits. Having an eye to the immense wealth of his uncle, whatever his own likes or dislikes might be, he invariably played off the character of a busy merchant when his benefactor was present. This gentleman, to whom Mr. Westwood Fountain was so much indebted, was of very humble origin, and dated his rise in the world from very singular circumstances. Timothy Westwood was the son of a poor Yorkshire drover, who was often employed to travel with herds of cattle, sent by the northern graziers to the London markets. When ten years of age he accompanied his father on one of those journeys to the south. A fine robust lad, it was with no little pride that he bid adieu to his relatives and village companions, and started off upon the long journey. Proceeding forward, our drovers safely reached the vicinity of St. Albans, where it was their custom to deliver up their flocks to the London dealers, and then return home. When, however, the boy was told that London was only twenty-one miles distant, he sighed to go forward. The wonders of the "mighty Babylon" filled his sleeping and waking dreams, and he used all his entreaties to induce his father on this occasion to visit the metropolis before they returned to Yorkshire. But it was of no avail; the drover was as fully aware that business is "the salt of He highest importance. He was a frugal, plodding fellow, who would at any time have gone a mile out of his way to earn a penny, but never to spend one. He knew that on a certain day he must be down again to take charge of another herd, and nothing could induce him to neglect the regular routine of his humble duties. Timothy had something of his father's determined character, and secretly resolved to see London at all hazards. It was a beautiful summer's night, when he took the advantage of his father's absence, and stealing out the back way, crossed the fields to a distant part of the road. Timothy did not look back or linger on the way, until he had completed more than half the journey. It was now long after sunset, and he began to feel exhausted; the clouds gathered up in blackness, and the low creeping breeze foretold a heavy night storm. was almost a lonely pedestrian; every step he took his path grew darker; until a broad flash of lightning illumined all around, and left him reclining upon the roadside bank, half blinded and bewildered. The thunder broke over his head, and rolled away in awful murmurs. Poor Timothy was alarmed, and cried aloud in very anguish. At that instant, a gentleman came rapidly up the road in a gig, and hearing his cries, pulled up, to enquire if he was going to town. Timothy replied in the affirmative, was taken up, and soon found himself in the vicinity of London. He had heard his father talk about Islington, and he named that place as his destination. Few words passed between Timothy and the gentleman; he was left at Islington, and had scarcely alighted, when he was met by some of the party who had been down at St. Albans with his father. He was questioned, and earnestly requested to remain there for the night, and return to his father in the morning; but the young adventurer seeing that his intentions would be thwarted if he remained at Islington, got away, and night as it was, made the best of his way to the great city. Once again upon the track of his hard-sought pleasure, he almost flew along. Arrived at Finsbury, he fell in with some thieves, but, in a short time discovering their character, Timothy, impressed with his father's teaching, felt the horrors of his situation, and though destitute and penniless, walked away from their loathsome den, like a young giant in the pride of his honest poverty. Timothy was sauntering along the streets hungry, and thinking of the far-distant Yorkshire cottage, where his homely fare was never wanting; when he observed a gentleman drop something upon the causeway. It was but the work of a moment to pick it up, and restore it to its owner. The rich Londoner, for an instant, had to contend with various emotions, but he was amazed at an act so devoid of selfishness. Here was a poor country-looking boy who had brought him a lost packet of valuable documents, and as instantly made off without craving the smallest reward, or even waiting for the owner's thanks. Timothy was darting away, and would soon have been lost among the passing crowd; but the bright star of his destiny was shining over him with great refulgence at that moment; for, the gentleman, never losing sight of him, pursued and overtook him, determined to reward such an act of simple honesty; but how great was his surprise when he found that the restorer of his lost packet was none other than the rustic youth who was benighted in the thunder-storm between Barnet and Islington. Stepping within a gateway, he drew the boy aside, and asked him several questions. "And what have you been doing, young fellow," said he, " since you came to London; where do you reside?" For a moment the noble-minded Yorkshire boy hesitated at giving an open explanation; he was conscious of having been the inmate of a thieves' den; he felt that he was in a strange place, and without friends, and he quailed before the glance of the gentleman who looked un into his face so intently when interrogating him on that should bear his name, and become a benefactor to so delicate a point. The pure consciousness of his the poor and needy. At the next turning, he was weary youthful integrity, however, triumphed, for he simply of the country, he would go abroad, and colonize some related the whole affair, and in so ingenuous a manner, beautiful spot in a distant region. Again he would be a as to win the admiration of his questioner; who, though metropolitan denizen, the fashionable associate of rank a magnate of the Hon. East India Company, was a plain and gaiety; lounge at the club, or mingle with the kind-hearted man, and truly alive to all the gentler promoters of pleasure and elegance. It is not necessary feelings of humanity. It was indeed a picture worth that we consider what were his expressions of decent looking at a glimpse of the spiritual, among scenes of sorrow upon receiving the intelligence of his uncle's metropolitan avarice and depravity,-there, in the midst death; he was now the possessor of vast wealth, and he of his money-getting speculations, had circumstances withdrew from all commercial pursuits; he was suddenly awakened in the breast of the man of pounds, married, and there, alone, in the midst of his riches, he shillings, and pence, the light of high, pure, and holy had "all the world before him, where to choose" his feelings of benevolence, softening down every other place. After his mercantile affairs were settled, he came quality of a harsh, sinister, and worldly nature. There, to Beech Grove with the owner of the estate, and he was the rich man leading the penniless, but honest instantly fell in love with it, he was now resolved to adventurer of a boy, to his own palace-home. He clothed be a retired country gentleman, with equipage and hounds. him, sent him to school, wrote to his parents, arranged For this purpose he settled in our neighbourhood, pureverything to their satisfaction, and, having no child of chased the large domain of Beech Grove, including the is own, the young drover was made his adopted son! lordship of a manor, with tenantry sufficient to give him Years rolled on, and Timothy Westwood's benefactor some weight in the county, with the probability of his died, and the Yorkshireman became a very important being made a district magistrate, or lord lieutenant. personage in the monied circles of the metropolis, and no Beech Grove had been frittered away by neglect, the insignificant member of the Hon. East India Company. house was dilapidated, its late tenants had thought more With a mind formed for mercantile speculation, he was about the London gaming tables than the old baronial ever absorbed in the commercial interests to which he pile at home; and, consequently, Mr. Fountain entered belonged; nor could anything else take off his attention upon the wreck of an estate that required considerable from what had engaged his undivided skill and industry outlay to make it the magnificent home of an aristocratic from his youth up. In grave deliberations, on finance, commoner, with every convenience for displaying to the in matters at issue between the British government and neighbouring gentry his vast abundance. For a time the directors, Mr. Westwood was ever found to take his Mr. Fountain's attention was fully occupied in remodelpart as the indefatigable co-worker, and active member of ling Beech Grove. Often was a fine gable, or rich the princely body of "chartered merchants trading to portico, soon as completed, reduced of its "fair proporthe East Indies." Moving as he did, however, among tions," and made to assume another form at the caprice the first circles of society, the millionnaire remained a of the noble owner. It was a fine old English residence, bachelor. Rumour, certainly, did ever and again push and with the advantage of an extensive park, it also about various matrimonial engagements for him; but he commanded many natural and romantic beauties; it was, was often heard to say, when some jocular friend gave as Evelyn describes his own pleasant abode, “large and him a hint respecting the approaching nuptials which ancient, suitable to those hospitable times, and so sweetly fashionable gossip had made current, "Ah, my dear Sir, environed with those delicious streams and venerable whenever I set off a wife-hunting, shall go down into woods, as in the judgment of strangers, as well as the country, and seek out some bonny lass milking her Englishmen, it may be compared to one of the most cow, or tending her father's flock." During his latter pleasant seats in the nation, most tempting to a great years he lived in comparative retirement, with not a person, and a wanton purse." After the hall was in male relative on whom to shower his smiles and his wealth, proper trim for the reception of visitors, a round of save one, his sister's child, Westwood Fountain. The old fashionable DIVERTISSEMENTS whiled away the length gentleman had ever been most abstemious, and might be of a few months, the bachelor's ball at the Grove was said to have studied economy in all things; yet, his attended by all the country squires in the neighbourhood, fondness for the adopted child of his sister, led him out and Mr. Fountain's splendid rooms were occasionally the into the most extravagant expenses. In his endeavour to resort of fashion and elegance. But after all he was a elevate young Fountain upon the pedestal of fame as a discontented man, and was often lost in deep abstraction. great and princely merchant, though thousands were ever When left alone, he was restless as a leaf, tossed about making their exit in following up whims and extravagan- in the autumn breeze. cies such as those of his nephew, he never seemed to think It was during that delightful summer, well remembered any thing too much that was demanded of his golden in Yorkshire, when the youthful Princess Victoria, and hoard. His fondest earthly wish was to see his name her mother, the Duchess of Kent, were sojourners among perpetuated in the person of a relative, and one whom he the oat-cake lads and lasses of the West Riding, that our vainly thought would take a place among the greatest mer-hero took up his residence for a few weeks at the Crown chants of the empire. But in this, Mr. Timothy Westwood, with all his knowledge of the great world, was utterly blinded,-blinded through his affection for the object. But, his days wandered to a close, the stalwart oak must at last bend to the breath of time; and the old East India Merchant, after suffering a slight indisposition from cold, died very suddenly at his house in Berkshire, at the advanced age of eighty-seven. And now Mr. Westwood Fountain was one of the richest commoners in England. Never did such an amount of this world's strength fall into the hands of a more fickle possessor. From his youth up he had been the creature of present impulse, and his dreams of the future varied many times in a day. To one friend he expressed himself desirous of appropriating the greater portion of his money to humane purposes. He would found an hospital Hotel, in Harrowgate. At so fashionable a watering-place, it was not to be expected that Mr. Fountain would remain long undiscovered by people of his own class; and, indeed, on the very day of his arrival he was taken cordially by the hand, and was welcomed in such a manner, that he wrote off for an extra phaeton and servants, for the accommodation of some old friends, among whom was an aged clergyman, who attended his uncle during his last moments. Sometimes Mr. Fountain would rise early in the morning, and accompany the old clergyman and his daughter to the old spa (discovered by Captain William Slingsby in the year 1571, and who, after proving it to be superior to the Savinière in Germany, caused it to be enclosed, and it was afterwards otherwise adorned and made more fitting the notice of visitors, by Lord Loughborough, who had an estate on the common adjoining). The venerable friend of his uncle was much returned home-not to regret that he had injured the esteemed, and the society of his daughter was not alto- gentle Fanny Davidson, but to regret his Doncaster spegether without its influence upon the mind of Westwood culation, for his "high-mettled racer" was dead! Fountain. There was a charm about Fanny Davidson The work would indeed be voluminous that attempted that, for the time, dissipated every cloud, and gave him to chronicle half the ins and outs of such a changeling a cup of pure joy, such as he had not found in gayer as Westwood Fountain. With all the appliances of company. The only child of her father, there was wealth, the craving after novelty in him, at times, wore nothing she would not attempt to gratify him. Finding a better appearance than it deserved. If any of his neighthat the rich nephew of his old acquaintance was suffer-bours called upon him, and could catch his ear with any ing under some mental malady, the kind-hearted Mr. new project, whether of benevolence to the poor or of Davidson was always engaged in drawing his attention to utility to society, he would go to any extent with them the beauties in the leafy wood, the long green lane on the for the moment; his purse and name were ever at their margin of a peaceful river, or the mazes of the flower- service; and, on some occasions, his name found its way garden; one object seemed to be ever kept in view; if into the newspapers as a charitable donor, or patron of he could but illume that care-worn countenance, his great and new improvements in national affairs. Seated labour was amply rewarded. It was evident that the in the heart of agriculture, he was induced to become a promenade-rooms of Harrowgate had but little attraction supporter of the great Yorkshire Association for the for Mr. Fountain, and at the particular desire of Mr. better management of farms, the breeding of cattle, Davidson, a very nice party of lively friends agreed to and improvement in floriculture. Here was an opporvisit that delightful place, Hackfall, a short drive from tunity for hanging more unitedly together the thread of Harrowgate. Beautifully diversified, wood, and rock, and his wayward mind; he was just the individual who could stream, have here combined to gratify the lover of natural purchase every implement patented for the improvement and artistic scenery. of husbandry; try any experiment, at whatever cost, for carrying out new principles; and the very fact of his doing so would have offered employment for the mind, which, if labouring under disease, would be in the best possible way for becoming healthy. During the autumn of '37, the society in question held their yearly festival at Leeds. They had a large booth erected in the spacious grounds attached to the cavalry barracks, and Earl Spencer presiding on the occasion, caused thousands to find their way to the "Great Agricultural Show;" and along with others of his neighbours, Mr. Fountain had his fine cattle there, and dined in the booth with the rest of the landed aristocracy. A fine ox, of immense size, bred upon the Beech Grove estate, bore away one of the principal prizes, and the laurels fell thick upon our hero, as a patron of the society. There was even a whisper that his wealth and position pointed him out as a likely man at the next election; and, for that day, there did not seem to be a cloud to darken his sky. On such occasions there are many resolves made for the future, one proposing this plan, and another proposing that, for carrying During this ramble, the harp of sweet Fanny Davidson was heard in the rustic temple, and in lonely dells, by the soft evening light; she seemed unto the soothed mind of Fountain to be sent as his good angel; he looked upon her, and he loved! A few days flew by on the wings of love and new joys; Mr. Davidson scarcely imagined that such would be the result; however, there was a formal announcement made of his attachment to "the old man's daughter;" and as Doncaster races were approaching, with every prospect of being uncommonly gay, from the fact that the young Victoria and her mother would be present; at the request of Mr. Fountain, the amiable, the gentle Fanny Davidson was allowed by her father to accompany a party from Harrowgate to the scene of the Great St. Leger. On this occasion, Doncaster was filled to overflowing; but the ladies of Miss Davidson's party were astonished to find that, on the great race day, Mr. Fountain never made his appearance among them, nor could they hear any tidings of him! Fanny seemed disconsolate. It was a beautiful autumn evening when Fanny David-out their various objects of progression. None seemed son returned to Harrowgate, and found her father with all packed up, awaiting her arrival to return home to his rectory at Woodmanthorpe, in the south. She was almost broken-hearted. Her father could scarcely contain his indignation; he was grievously insulted in the neglect shown to his daughter. But poor Fanny was more heartstricken than indignant; she had formed an attachment; it was the first; it had not been kept secret from the party she travelled with; she fancied all tongues to be engaged talking about it; she left Harrowgate sadder than she came; a cloud of grief was hanging like a shroud about the innocent maiden. But she had a kind father; he talked with her he prayed for her; the shock was severe, but the light of Heaven was around her, and in happier moments her fate was linked to one who knew how to value her, and Fanny was blessed in the end, that her acquaintance with Westwood Fountain was limited to a few autumn days. There is ever to be found enough of the vicious elements of society on a race-course to entrap the curious and the speculative. A well-known frequenter of the Doncaster course, delighting in the cognomen of "the bit o' blood," made up to our hero on his arrival, and by the assistance of a number of other "swells" decoyed him up to the betting-rooms, where he soon forgot his "ladye love;" the dupe of vile rascals that follow in the train of wealthy aristocracy, he was induced to venture to a great amount, and, in his admiration of a celebrated horse, squandered away a small fortune to be its possessor, and be considered a patron of racing. He more eager than Mr. Fountain for every exertion that could be thought of for furthering the views of the society. However, as usual, when another morning dawned, it found that gentleman as coldly disposed towards the party as if he had never known them! The enchanter's wand had passed over him; he refused to be seen by some of his enthusiastic friends of yesterday, and his farmer was in the act of sending away the very cattle, with the prize-laurel on its horns, to be sold by auction! The fit was over. If any good had been the result of Mr. Fountain's support given to such a noble association, we must attribute it to the kind fortune of a momentary impulse, and not to firm manly principle. He might, in such company, have found means to throw away his weakness, and have allowed his friends the joy of seeing him worthily employed in promoting a noble object. In such affairs, the more ridicule was attached to his name, from the seeming zeal with which he espoused a project, and his almost instant indifference. Among others there came to Beech Grove a foreigner of fashionable exterior and polished manners; and it was evident that this person (unknown to all others) was on terms of intimacy with Westwood Fountain, that gave a character to his presence, distinguishing him from all ordinary visitors. On some occasions Mr. Fountain could not entertain a single caller for days, his guest and himself spent much time in private, and all that was seen of their seclusion was a quantity of papers, some of them having the appearance of legal documents. During the foreigner's stay, it was easy to discover that Mr. Fountain |