"E. B. D." complains to the Times of the regulations of the Post-office with regard to the transmission of books: if you try to defraud the revenue by putting a letter in a book, the letter is taken out, and twopence postage charged; but if you make a mistake and send a book over one pound weight, it is forfeited, or double letterpostage charged for it.

The Australian letters complain of the reckless shipment of goods from England, which has rendered them a drug in the colonial marts: goods can be bought in Sydney so cheap that they can be reexported to England at a profit.

From Hogg's Instructor.
CHRISTMAS CHANGES.

size, furnished with every luxury, and gay with flowers and rare birds. Its occupant ran to meet her parent as she entered, and twined a pair of emaciated arms about her neck.

"Mamma! dear mamma! such a letter from poor Annie. Oh! mamma, do you think he will relent! do you think he will forgive?"

He was a little old man, between sixty and seventy years of age; and over his thin hair he wore a black velvet skull-cap, and a pair of blue goggles concealed his fast-dimming eyes. His sharply-hooked nose, and thin, compressed lips, She was a poor dwarfed creature, this little still bespoke, notwithstanding the general dulling Charlotte, and far from strong or well. A cruel of his senses, the keen, cool, calculating, worldly- accident in her babyhood had warped her slenwise, not to say hard man. Sitting after dinner der spine, leaving it but a weak and gnarled supin his favorite easy-chair, beside his handsome port for a fine and classical head, and a face dining-room table, with his modicum of French lovely with the reflex of the meek, benevolent brandy in a tumbler before him, to be filled up spirit within. This face, however, was now all with three-fourths hot water from the little china wo-begone and tear-swollen; and a fresh burst jug beside it, the little old man-such as we de-of tears added to its agonized expression, as scribe him, crossed one small leg over the other, Charlotte hid her grief on the bosom of her affecand peered through his blue goggles at his pale tionate mother. wife, sitting opposite, for a reply to his last "Charlotte, my darling," said the habitually remark. composed lady, suppressing two sympathetic She, her gentle eyes cast down, and an anx-drops that tried hard to fall from her white eyeious pucker wrinkling her white forehead, ap-lids, and remained entangled in their jetty lashes, peared to wish to decline a reply; but at length, -"my dearest child, recover yourself, and tell constrained thereto by the piercing look from me what of our poor Annie." behind the blue goggles, ventured to say:"It must be as you please, Mr. Curling; but your own brother-you cannot allow it-people expect something."

"Oh! mamma, mamma, such a letter,-all about her husband leaving her, and-oh! papa will say that he is always right about people. But he cannot allow her to starve, can he,

Yet Mrs. Curling

"I trust not, my_love." looked dubious. "Some men do not believe. But show me the letter."

"What is it to me what people expect?" re-mamma?" plied the old man, in his harsh, grating voice. "At the time of the late unfortunate occurrence, I said to him, 'Now, Thomas, I have once more freed you from the consequences of your impru Annie was not Mrs. Curling's own daughter; dence. I have set you, as the phrase goes, on yet the gentle step-mother found it hard to mainyour legs again. If you do not now make tain her composure, as she perused the blotted money, it is not my fault, and I will have noth-lines handed to her by Charlotte. ing further to do with it; so, remember never to apply to me again.' He muttered something about want of capital to keep the concern going. The extravagant fool! he should have saved it out of his living, as I did, when I began life with two-and-sixpence."

ering them to his master, he advanced towards

Mrs. Curling rose, and as Joseph retired, his master inquired, suspiciously, "Hey! what's

sister-your poor Annie is so wretched, so very "My darling Charlotte: -My own loving little wretched! What shall I do? He is goneand I have not a penny in the house. But I gone forever! still loved, though latterly so cruel; don't think much of that. We have been very food a day at a time. I did not dare to write to badly off, lately, often. We have wanted for

At this point of the conversation, the manservant entered, with letters on a waiter. Delivhis mistress; and while Mr. Curling was delib-my father. You know what he is, Charlotte; he is so determined, when he takes against a percrately cutting the paper round the seals, the domestic said in a low voice, "If you please, Dear Charlotte, I want to come home to you son, especially one who dares him, like Edward. ma'am, Miss Curling wishes to speak to you imand my mother. I want your society, your mediately. She is in her own room.` friendship; I want your affection to bind up this poor broken heart. The whole world is full of gloom. Do you think my father would let me come? Plead for me; ask dear mamma to do her best. I will be quiet and submissive, and too severe upon poor Edward. I could not bear please him in everything; only he must not be men cannot endure like women,—and I dare say that. My poor husband, he suffered so,-and scarcely know what I write; but dear, dearest he thought I should be no worse off without him. Charlotte, let me have a few lines soon, to say

that?

כי

"Only Charlotte, my dear. She wishes to speak to me."

"Why send for you? Why cannot she come

here?

"My dear, perhaps she is not well," said Mrs. Curling, gently. "Is there a letter for her?" "No," replied her husband, peering at the directions through his blue goggles. "I am surprised that there is not one by this mail from India," he continued. “I trust the boy is not ill." "Ah! dear fellow," said Mrs. Curling; and the anxious pucker re-appeared on her forehead. Leaving the room, she ascended the stairs to the chamber of her daughter, the only one of their children residing beneath the parental roof.

It was a pleasant apartment, of considerable

I

what is to be done.

ANNIE."

Mrs. Curling remained awhile in deep thought, then saying, "I will go and see what can be done with your father, Charlotte," she gave her one kiss, and left the room.

Meanwhile the little old man below sat in angry cogitation over one of the letters that he

had received. Poor Annie's request came at an unfortunate moment.

"Well, what now?" he testily inquired, as his wife re-entered the room; "what nonsense is in the wind now? Do not let it be anything to vex me, Mrs. Curling; I have quite enough here to do that, ma'am." And quite transported out of his usual manner, Mr. Curling tossed the offending letter across the table to his wife.

It was from a tenant of one of Mr. Curling's small houses, in Denton Street, whose rent was over-due; and who, knowing from report the character of his landlord, wrote to beseech his forbearance for a few weeks. The poor man candidly explained his position; told Mr. Curling how his wife lay dying of a fever, that had like wise stricken down two of his children, and how he himself had been cheated by a plausible friend. Mrs. Curling read the letter, and returned it, saying, timidly, You will give him time, Mr. Curl ing?"

with a peculiar manipulation, as if it stuck to his fingers-and bank-notes do stick to the fingers of men like Mr. Curling-"there, send that to the disobedient ingrate, and tell her she must do as better women have done, go out into the world and work for her living, thanking God that she is rid of a villain. No more," he continued, stopping Mrs. Curling as she was about to speak, perhaps to plead with him; "no more. Write exactly as I tell you."

His wife left the room, and hastened to her daughter, who was anxiously awaiting the result of the conference. Mingling their regrets together, the two women comforted each other, and then wrote to poor Annie, though not exactly in the terms commanded by Mr. Curling. The bank-note was one for five pounds.

*

*

*

It is the day after that on which our tale opens. In a small, confined bedroom, on the first floor of a tall, narrow house, in an unwholesome street "Time! yes, to take himself off, and his sick about three miles distant from Mr. Curling's fine family to the hospital, before the sale commences. suburban residence, a woman lies struggling with Do you suppose I do not see through his hum- the scant breath of life that yet lingers in her atbug? I shall certainly send a man in to take tenuated frame. Her mother-in-law bends over possession to-morrow, Mrs. Curling, whatever you her in tears, and prays that the agony may pass may think of me," added. the little man, observ-away, and that the Saviour in whom she has ing that his wife looked pained. "I have had enough of arrears of rent."

trusted may receive her to Himself. While thus praying, a man, elderly, thin, and with a look of intense distress upon his haggard countenance, enters the apartment, and beckons to his mother, who goes behind the curtain of the bed to speak to him.

"Is the doctor come?" she inquires. "I thought I heard his voice."

Poor Mrs. Curling! it was not a very good opportunity for disclosing her errand. But there must be no delay, Annie might be starving! So she steadied her voice, which was sadly wavering and trembling like her whole frame, and acquainted Mr. Curling, that when he was at liberty to attend to her, she had a letter to read to "No," replies the man in a hollow whisper. him. He re-seated himself. for, in his heat about "It is-it is-the bailiffs. I could not keep them the insolent tenant, he had been walking hurried-out; they came upon me unawares." ly to an fro, and fixing the blue goggles full on And Elizabeth lying there! The Lord forhis wife's countenance, awaited her next words give him; he is a cruel man; and after your letin severe silence. ter, too! Well thank God, she is nearly out of his reach."

Softening down what she knew her husband would regard as exaggeration, amounting to untruthfulness, she began,

66

"You don't mean, mother-not so soon!"

'James, my poor son, you must part with Elizabeth to-day. She is drawing away fast. Thank God! her poor soul knows where to lean for support. Weep not for her, my son, it is we who are to be pitied. She going where the

But of course we are not going to inflict the whole letter upon our readers over again. Pursuing the same system of reducing the stronger expressions of the epistle, and omitting the writtears are wiped from every eye." er's true, though by no means flattering, opinion "I wish we were going with her, mother. The of her father's disposition, the lady ended, without world is gloomy enough, and what will it bo opposition from the critical goggles on the other without her?" side of the table.

"James, submit your will to His. You have great cause for thankfulness, my poor son: Mary and Jemmy are so much better. The doctor said last night, that he did not doubt but they would be about in a few days."

Five minutes elapsed, and Mr. Curling had uttered no word; only, he crossed one leg peevishly over the other, and, giving a jerking turn in his chair, conveyed the blue goggles so far away, that his wife could only see the extreme outward Ay, with nourishing food; and how are we rim of the one that concealed his left eye. An- to get it? But it is sinful to despair; God will other five minutes, passed in the same suspense, provide for that. Yet, oh! mother, my Eliza determined Mrs. Curling upon speaking. But, beth! my dear, dear wife!" just as the words hovered upon her subdued lips, It seemed as if the stifled cry of love's agony she was prevented. Her husband had jerked reached the dull ear of the dying woman. There himself round again, and was taking his purse-was a slight stir in the bed, and James's mother an old-fashioned leather one, with a steel clasp hastened to her post. Elizabeth's eyes were wido out of his pocket. He opened it and his mouth open, and, as her husband likewise drew near, simultaneously. they fell upon him, and a faint, sweet smile, passed over her countenance. He knelt beside her, and took her wan hand in his.

"There," he said, depositing a bank-note on the table before Mrs. Curling, but slowly and

'James," she whispered, so low that he had to place his car close to her lips to catch the words; my children-bring them-I am going-Jesus -Saviour."

The fluttering whisper ceased, and the soul was with its God. The mother and her son knelt in prayer, for the bereaved husband was too much awestricken even to weep. Meanwhile, the rich landlord's bailiffs kept their grim watch below.

*

*

*

The scene changes. A woman is sitting all alone in a gloomy parlor, where no sound is heard, save the buzzing of a solitary fly that has survived the autumnal frosts, and the twinkle of the dying embers of a very poor, little fire. She shivers, for it is a bitter cold day, and the room is cold, and her own heart is cold, and she feels as if nothing would ever warm it again. Yes, one thing might, perhaps, and that is denied her. "Cruel father! he could send me that paltry bank-note, and tell me to go out and battle with the world, when I would far rather lay me down and die. Oh! if I could but spend one week, only one week, with my dear mother and sister, I think it would strengthen me to do his bidding. Oh, my home! my home!"

Poor Annie! poor deserted one! She was still young, and might have been pretty, but that her cheek was so sallow, and her eye so dull and dim, and her hair so neglected. Not in picturesque dishevelment, but all matted and forlorn, it lay in ragged masses upon cheek and neck; and the shabby, faded shawl, and the thin, elevated shoulders and crouching form, as she gathered herself together to keep out the cold, contributed to the general ungracefulness of her appearance. Talk as the poets will of beauty in distress, we are not lovable when soul and condition are alike wretched, save to those who love us very truly.

Bat what mattered it to the deserted wife? The eye that she alone sought to please, cruel and cold as it had often been, when rendered desperate by circumstances, flashing and furious, when maddened by strong drink, had vanished from her presence for ever. It even bestowed its fitful and undesirable love upon another-but Annie knew not that. Happy for her-if the word happy may be even comparatively applied in such a position-for a last drop in the of cup her bitterness might have turned her poor racked brain, and sent the disobedient daughter unprepared to her last account.

closed, a husband and wife, who sit opposite each other in mournful silence. At length the husband speaks.

"One poor two hundred pounds would have got me out of my present difficulties, and preserved my credit until I could reduce the business, or commence another and a safer one. And he refuses! he who has thousands lying at his banker's! Why, my failure itself is entirely his fault."

"I have heard you say so before, my love," remarked the wife. "I know and can bear testimony, at any rate, that it is no want of industry on your part, or of economy on mine, that has caused you to come to a stand-still. But explain to me exactly how it is your brother's fault, as you say. I believe he set you up with the kind

est intentions."

"So he did, Emily; at least we will give him credit for assisting me for my own sake, and not merely because I belonged to the family. But this is how it is. A kindness half done had frequently better be left undone. When Ralph saddled me with this concern, he gave me no capital to carry it on with, though he well knew I had little or nothing left of my own. Without capital, how was I to buy in the stock in trade? When customers inquired for this thing or the other, it was frequently wanting. they soon got tired, and went where they were sure of procuring what they wanted."

Of course

"And that, Thomas, you consider the sole cause of your failure?"

"Of course, Emily. The shop is in an excellent situation; the business an old established one. I spared no effort to keep it together, and with a thousand, or even five hundred pounds, to turn over in the course of the year, I know I could have made it more than answer."

"Well," said his wife, "there is nothing for it but submission. When do the creditors meet?" school any more?" interrupted a rosy little boy and girl, bursting breathlessly in. "Aunt Mary

"Mamma! mamma! are we not to go to

says so."

"It is too true, my dears," replied their fond mother, gazing sorrowfully upon them.

that mournful voice, too?" inquired the little Why do you say too true, mamma, and with Emily. "We are glad, are we not, Ralph ?"

Oh, yes, yes!" answered the little boy, dancing about the room for joy.

My darlings, come hither," said their mother, and her grave tone this time made some impres sion upon them. "I must make you understand how it is that you are not to go to school any longer, and then you will not be so very glad."

Oh! Almighty Father, may she yet atone, if not by her weary punishment, yet by acts of duty rendered where they have long been due! But her father's hard heart, that must be vanquished, So they came about her chair, and she lifted to afford her the opportunity. Alas! how the little Ralph on to her knee, and making Emily influences of the spirit of mercy are needed in sit at her feet, she told them how their father this earth of ours! Yet it is fitting, and a part had become very poor, and that, carefully as of the wise designs of the Creator, that the sinning should likewise be the suffering, even in this they had lived, they were now obliged to be much

world.

more careful.

"Then, will my father keep a shop?" asked Emily, who had always been very proud of the decked-out windows, and thought a shopkeeper rather a grand personage.

"No, my love, we are going to remove from this house and shop. We shall live in a very

tiny house; and your father will go as an assistant into another man's shop."

"O dear, dear," said Emily, "I am very sorry." "But I'm glad." persisted little Ralph, "because I shall have no more nasty lessons to learn."

"Do not flatter yourself, Ralph," replied his mother; "you will still have lessons to learn. The only difference will be, that you will say them to me, instead of to Miss Woods."

frantic, despairing, mad; but would never have prostrated him in the speechless agony that now froze his blood. In this world-hardened and generally unsympathizing heart, there yet existed an unsuspected corner, where lingered the sole remaining tenderness of the man's nature; and this secret tenderness it was which had now, by the all-wise dispensations of Providence, been converted into a fountain of anguish.

The children retired into a corner, and talked over this wonderful news in low voices, while their mother prepared tea; for she had already dismissed the little maid-of-all-work who had been wont to share her labors. Then, when all was ready, the family assembled quietly round the table. The children ate with their usual ap-truth was, he was pleased with himself. He had petite, and a mirthful word or laugh would occasionally break out, notwithstanding the shade of gloom which the manner of their parents threw upon them. Mrs. Curling poured out a cup of tea for her husband, which he drank almost unconsciously, but tasted no food. She herself took nothing.

Yes, it was Christmas Eve, and on such an occasion there was wont to be, year after year, a well-spread dinner-table at Ralph Curling's, graced by the presence of one or two old friends, whose worldly wisdom and dry humor rendered them especially acceptable to its master. But where were they to night? and where were pale Mrs. Curling and kind little Charlotte? and, above all, where was the little old man with the velvet skull-cap and the blue goggles, who had, for some thirty years back, never been missing from his easy chair in the dining-room at this hour? Where was he? In his own chamber, stretched almost senseless on his luxurious bed, his gentle wife weeping bitterly beside him; and servants came and went softly; and the doctor was summoned, lest the attack should prove one of apoplexy or paralysis; and all was confusion and dismay in that comfortable suburban mansion. As for poor little Charlotte, she, too, lay prostrate on her bed in her own apartment, for her weakly frame could ill sustain the shock that had overtaken the family.

Let us, however, no longer deal in parables, but carry our reader back with us to the luncheon hour at Mr. Curling's, on the same Christmas Eve. The slight meal was spread in the diningroom, and Mr. Curling sat in his usual easy chair, the blue goggles more lively than usual, and the whole man pleasanter and less critical. The succeeded in overcoming certain half-perceptible and wholly amazing twinges of heart or conscience, relative to his daughter Annie; which he called weaknesses, but which others might have considered gleams of a better nature, or a very allowable remnant of paternal affection for the erring one. However that might be, Ralph had got rid of the suspicious emotions in a manner peculiar to himself, and was rejoicing in his renewed liberty of mind; so that he even deigned to be facetious, in a stiff, dry sort of way, with little Charlotte, sitting near her mother at the opposite side of the table. The fire blazed cheerfully. Mrs. Curling's pet canary twittered in his gilded cage in the large bay window, and peered through the plate-glass window panes at two or three sooty suburban sparrows, that hopped hither and thither on the half-melted snow of the lawn outside, leaving the prints of their tiny claws on its surface. Said canary to himself, as many of our convicted felons might say to the honest working man, "I am better off than you, though I am in prison and you are free;" and forthwith he nibbled his rape-seed, and sipped his fresh water from the crystal bottle with increased gusto, and carolled a sudden snatch of shrilly song. But Mr. Curling could not suffer this in his dignified presence, and he signified as much to his wife; who rose to throw her pocket-handkerchief over the cage, thus silencing the noisy songster. As she did this, she caught sight of the postman coming in at the gate.

Oh, penny-postman! liveried servant of that mighty abstraction, Her Majesty's mail, how of ten, when in great suspense, waiting for an important letter, have we in our youthful fantasies wished you endued with bells, that we might at least know when you were in our neighborhood! And were it likewise well, oh postman! if you carried that matter-of-fact, commonplace visage And the cause of all this? Have the rich of yours, according to a prescient instinct that man's possessions melted away from his tight we suspect you to possess as to the contents of grasp, leaving him in a far worse position than that fateful budget in your hand, that one might those on whom his stern missives and unrelent-form a cursory guess whether it contains news ing dealings have fallen this day like a blight? that will please or freeze us, set us dancing with Is he become a beggared bankrupt in his frail old pleasure, or drive us frantic with woe or disapage, after some twenty or thirty years' enjoyment pointment? Oh postman! such a sympathetic of hard-earned luxury? Alas! no. A mere countenance would sometimes be a kindly warning, preventing the flood of joy or misery from too sudden and overwhelming an invasion of our frail human faculties.

worldly trial, the loss of a little of the shining dust which plays so conspicuous a part in the drama of life, might have rendered the man