But

betters have respected me the more. pray, Betty, who told you this news?" "I heard it at Mr. Lascelles, Sir; the servants say their mistress has been talking of nothing else for two days past but what she could do to serve Miss Jennings, and she has been having 'em up, one at a time, consulting what could be done, and the maid said if the Miss Jennings's had been her mistress's own relations she couldn't have been more anxious about them. Dear excellent lady, that's just like her!-First she thought of their keeping a little school, and now I hear she has fixed on the mantua-making, but I can't believe that, because she is so fond of Esther Humphries." "Do you know, Betty, if any particular misfortune has happened to Mr. Jennings?" No, Sir, nothing that I do know of, except the disappointment about Mr. Joseph.' "Why, I never heard you talk so foolishly; my poor brother could only have married one, and such a marriage could have been no great advantage even to that one. things! I hope whatever their father sees right they will do willingly, for Mr. Jennings appears to me, though a blunt man, to have plain good sense. I have heard he is a fond father, but that he never indulged them so foolishly as Mrs. Jennings."

66

Poor

"I believe, Sir, that's quite true; mothers, you know, are apt to make much of their girls, but Mr. Jennings have done his part in setting them up; he was always very proud of their riding, Sir, and, to say true, when they did get on horseback, tall, thin girls as they were and well made too, I must own they did look creditable; dear me, why they'd join the hunt, and there was a time when it was talk'd of all over the country that their own Squire thought of making Miss Louisa the lady of the manor, and while that was the report, not one of them would speak to a neighbour if they met them, and every body said they were getting ready to ride in their coaches; I happened to go once to beg a little barni of the servant girl, and Mr. Henry muttered, while I stood there,- Well, Miss Louisa, I shall expect the farm a good pennyworth.' Miss Louisa toss'd her head, • Indeed! what are we to live upon.

999

"There's one thing, said Michael, Betty, I wish we could leave off, talking of our neighbours."

"I do assure you, Sir, I never speak of 'em but to you.'

them no ill." 66

"Well, Betty, we wish

No, indeed, master; I'd

go by night or by day if I could do 'em a

service.

Betty passed on to her business, and

her master being anxious about sowing, strayed into the porch to look at the sunset; it was rather cloudy, and he saw some one approaching, whom, he could not clearly discern who seemed to walk thoughtfully and leisurely, and he doubted whether he were coming to the Brow or passing. So, instead of going in, he waited, and as the person drew nearer, he heard a voice-it was James Brown.

Michael. O, James, is it you?

James. Were you at market yesterday?

Michael. No.

James. Well, I was, and I heard a piece of news there, as I think you'll be sorry for.

Michael. What was that?

James. You knew, perhaps, that Robert was come from transportation; he has not been home above two months, and now they have been making inquiry after the murderers of the old pedlar; and there is a man in that gang of gypsies that they think had a principal hand in it, and he has impeached Robert. Now, though he is an idle profligate chap, I believe he is as innocent of that murder as I am; and I thought perhaps, if I went up, I might do some good, for it is a hard thing for him to lose his life, and I wanted to consult you

F

how I am to go about it. I think I could prove that Robert was all the evening with me in the tent, the night that pedlar was murdered; and bad as that gang were, I do not believe there was one there that would have stained their hands.

Michael. I think you are very right, James, in your anxiety for the welfare of this poor creature. The first thing to be done, is to see Robert, and to learn from him all the particulars of the crime for which he stands charged; he is a perverse temper, and you will perhaps find it difficult to get any thing out of him-suppose I were to go with you?

James. That's the very thing I wished, and yet I did not like to ask you.

The day was fixed, and these good young men set off together on this errand of mercy. The very precincts of a prison, especially that part occupied by felons, is appalling to a virtuous mind; there, human hope seems extinguished, and certainty of the darkest kind has fixed her seat on every mind; the blank look of despair, in its varied forms, is on every countenance; the clanking of chains, and the noise of oaths and curses, assails your ear; the maniac laugh of those who brave it to the last, the sullen determined silence of others, and the unavailing contrition of a few, present a

variety of ideas to the mind: still they are all of one hue, and that deeply depressing!

When our young men reached the prison, they presented a letter from Mr. Lascelles to the chaplain; he read it, and said, "I hope you are not too late; I will do my best in this service, but it is much to be regretted you had not come here sooner."

Michael. I never heard of it till very lately, and I believe James Brown did not know it till late last week.

Chaplain. He is under sentence of death, and by what I understand of his conduct, on trial, he is a villain of a hardened kind, and when I have conversed with him there seems to be nothing like contrition, and no anxiety expressed. I question if he will thank you for your efforts.

"Sir," said Jem Brown, 66 we do not want thanks; think of his soul, Sir, think of his never-dying soul."

Chaplain. Very true, Sir; you will be so good as to give my compliments to Mr. Lascelles, and I wish you a very good morning.-Turn down that passage, and inquire for the turnkey.

Michael. Shall we call again at your house, Sir, for an answer to that letter? Chaplain. Here is little to answer, Sir: