oppression grows class-enmity, pilferings, test more distinct for simplicity, and dishonesty; with which family-pride keeps against corrupting trades. In regard also pace, and luxury too, if the higher class to sexual purity, it is to be feared that be enriched. Again, conquerors regard every approach to Epicurean doctrine is women as having no rights, and licentious- highly sinister. To shield the male temness spreads wide; and if standing armies perament from vice, we need not only that arise, it is perpetuated in another way. the female sex shall have high defensive Further, men, having legislation all to power, but that a reverence for them, with themselves, enact laws, especially mar- a stern sense of justice, should lie deep in riage laws, unjust to the female sex, which, men's hearts. It is said that, "a woman taking different form under different cir- who hesitates is lost;" and why say less cumstances, under all yield a bitter crop. of a man? If a man once begins to comExpensive courts set the example of lux- pute (what is incomputable) the pro-andury and change of fashion, spreading and con of a special vicious action which he almost demanding habits of pecuniary ex- allows himself calmly to contemplate, it is travagance; hence a general rush after ten to one that low instinct and base paswealth, and much unscrupulousness: for sion will carry him away. Every young the saying goes abroad, that one who has man eminently needs an intuitional hatred not such or such an income is trodden of allowing carnal desire to be dominant, under foot. Last, and not least, capitalists or to be gratified for its own sake: yet are permitted to deprave a nation for their novelists, poets, and artists pander to private gain, while perhaps the State, in- voluptuousness without being disgraced stead of forbidding them, condescends to and shunned. A powerful passion can share their ill-gotten income. Who can only be encountered by a higher passion; deny that all these causes of demoraliza- and undoubtedly the spiritual passions are tion conspire in England as much as in the strongest. The moralist's taskany nation on earth? Let all the moral- whatever name he assume, to whatever ists, all the philanthropists, all the ministers of religion, all the thoughtful heads of families unite their influence; yet they are helpless to stem the flood of immorality. It can only be done through the STATE; and the first necessity is to recall the fundamental idea of State action, that it must promote the WELFARE of the community, which primarily depends on its morality. We have collectively no higher interest. Though individuals can do so little for other men's virtue, the State can do an immensity; and much more can it immensely deprave the country. On both sides, therefore, it is upon and through the State that philanthropists have to act. Mr. Mill well understands that we need to exalt the object of promoting the public good and depress (each of us) his own private cupidity. In other words, we need simpler, severer tastes; perhaps the frugality of Epicurus, who generally dined on herbs, and certainly laid great stress on being satisfied with a little. Some people, oddly calling themselves Economists, think it a great gain to infuse into a population artificial desires, and name it civilization. Where a powerful aristocracy has persecuted socially every politician who dares to discuss the rights of land, or where the ruling sex tries to crush all talk of the rights of women, Mr. Mill comes to the front on the side of the oppressed. Does he not thereby bid us hope that he will step out farther? We need his pro school he refer himself is to strengthen and purify the intuitions - the inward judgment, the inward desires: for these are the vital forces of action. Otherwise, only the despairing wail will be heard from those best taught in moral systems -"Video meliora proboque: Deteriora sequor." From Good Cheer. THE NEAP REEF. BY MRS. PARR, AUTHOR OF "DOROTHY FOX." MANY years ago Redneap was a humble little village, unknown to tourists and pleasure-seekers, innocent of hotels and bathing establishments, not dreamed of by lodging-house-keepers or enterprising companies, and inhabited chiefly by seamen who traded between it and the French coast. Of the mariners who knew and dreaded the hidden dangers of the Neap Reef, few had ever seen the village which lay snugly sheltered behind the tall, bare rock, on which many a brave little bark had been dashed to pieces, for no lighthouse then marked the dangerous coast, and no friendly fog-bell warned the vessel off the fatal shoal. The Redneap men were known to be good sailors; and their houses, substan tially and comfortably furnished, bore | heavy at the mother's heart; for, shut her testimony to the industry and prudence of eyes as she would, she could neither be the owners. The cottages were rather blind nor deaf to the fact, that Philip's straggling and widely parted. The better sort were built of stone, with a little patch of ground in front walled off from the road, and planted after the fashion most favoured in Redneap - with a low tamarisk tree, surrounded by large shells, yellow marigolds, and grassy tufts of seapinks. choice had fallen upon the girl whom of all others she despised, disliked, and refused to contemplate as a daughter for herself or a wife for her son. That it was more than a passing fancy, "o' which Phil ought to be ashamed,' she resolutely refused to admit; blaming the bold, enticing ways of the girl for her son's apparHigh up the Luton road stood one of the ent attentions to her, and hoping, with neatest specimens of these somewhat un- pitying scorn, that the poor, vain creature picturesque dwellings. It belonged to the would set no store on words that were as widow Lee, whose tall, upright figure is lightly meant as they were spoken. But, just discernible, as this evening she sits, notwithstanding that her neighbours and half turned from the window, at the little gossips, while handling the subject with round table, reading out of the baize- her, apparently concurred in this opinion, covered family Bible, which, with a hymn- they decided, when safely out of the book and the "Pilgrim's Progress," con- widow's hearing, that "'twas only for old stitutes her entire library. It is Mrs. Dutton's grand-daughter to hold up her Lee's rule and by rule she orders her finger, and, for all his mother might say, life to read her Bible on Sundays, dur- Phil Lee would follow her to the end of ing periods of sickness and sorrow, or the world." And then they sighed and when any event of more than ordinary nodded their heads in pleasant anticipation importance takes place in her life. The of the thorns which were growing up to reason of her now betaking herself to this trouble their neighbour's flesh for cersolace is, that she has just parted with her tainly Mrs. Lee was more feared than son Philip, who has left her for an unusually long cruise. Though Mrs. Lee avers that she sees the hand of Providence in Mr. Chenevix, the rector's nephew, wanting Philip's little craft, the Bluebell, for a pleasure trip, at the same time that the owners of the Emily Jane need a trustworthy seaman to bring home that vessel and its valuable freight of rare woods, still she cannot stifle a sigh, nor prevent her tears flowing, as she remembers how many a lonely hour must pass before her eyes shall again see her dear boy's face. Not that Naomi Lee, even to herself, acknowledged this weakness; and sharply would she have rebuked the slightest attempt at sympathy, saying, she was none of the sort that asked for mercies, and then murmured when her prayer was granted. No, she was thankful to say that, in sorrow or joy, she had always been able to make the Lord's ways her ways, knowing that the hand which chastised could raise, and that He who took could give. And certainly every one in Redneap knew of, and most envied, Philip Lee's stroke of luck; for, between the two chances thus offered to him, he would be able to clear off the debt on the Bluebell which would then be all his own - take freightage, run ventures for himself, and finally set up a house and marry a wife. It was this last that rankled and lay loved by the small community among whom she had spent her life-a life which, she proudly boasted, could be scanned and taken to pieces without finding in it speck or flaw. It was close upon thirty years since Mrs. Lee had buried her husband; yet, by her own exertions, she had, during the whole of that time, maintained a respectable appearance, kept a comfortable home over her head, and brought up her boy to be, in her eyes, a pattern of what a son ought to be. No mother grieving over a prodigal, flighty, or headstrong child ever took her burden to Naomi Lee, who entirely lacked all pity for those who deviated from her own standard of propriety, and loudly denounced the weak love which many sins could not utterly destroy. In her heart she sympathized entirely with the indignation of that elder son for whom a fatted calf had never been killed, and, only that "'twas Scripture," would have doubted if the doting father did not live to repent that he had not left his prodigal to the swine and the husks, which his own folly had brought him to. Yet, in spite of this hardness, there was much good in Mrs. Lee. Let sickness, sorrow, or any of those troubles which she thought were "sent from above," visit a cottage, and there you would most surely find her with cool head and nimble hands putting all other helpers in the shade. The rector's "I'll keep my eye upon her," thinks the widow, "so that Phil shall know her in her true colours. Rather than I'd see her his wife I'd follow him to his grave,' though at the very thought a lump rises in her throat, and she has hastily to apply her apron to her eyes before she can answer "Come in" to the tapping at the door, which is gently opened by a comelylooking girl of four or five and twenty. first question in a house of trouble was, strange, therefore, if, between the parting "Where's Mrs. Lee?" and Dr. Starling and the host of indiscretions she is certain from Luton often called her his " right- of being able to store up against her boy's hand man." She never grudged her time luckless enchantress, a final separation be or her pains, and had therefore a claim to not effected. the unquestioned respect in which she was held by all who knew her. For if a woman had Mrs. Lee's friendship, it bespoke her to be a thrifty housewife, doing her duty to her husband, and sending her children regularly and tidily to school and church. If a girl had Mrs. Lee's good word, she was at once stamped as being free from all flightiness and vanity, a good hand at her needle, and well versed in those habits of industry and cleanliness," by which alone, in Mrs. Lee's opinion, a man's comfort could be insured. Many a ribbon had been hastily hidden lest it should call forth the widow's reproof; many a brooch carefully covered to prevent the useless finery meeting her scruti-think you were lonesome, so I've brought nizing gaze. "You're terrible hard on the maidens, mother," Philip would sometimes say; "I'll warrant now, when you were young, you liked a trinket as well as any of 'em?" "Me, Phil!" his mother would reply indignantly;" young or old, I never put a gewgaw of any sort on me. My wedding ring, which is good guinea gold, is the only trinket I ever had or wanted." "Ah, mother!" her son would say, with his low pleasant laugh, "there's not many o' your sort left now-leastways not in Redneap." "When you are seeking for a wife to tread in my shoes, Phil, tell me, and I'll find you one they'll fit; but mind this, in wedded life, as you make your bed, so you must lie on it,' so don't choose first and ask advice afterwards." "Oh, Annie! it that you?" said Mrs. Lee, feeling she could indulge in a greater show of regret than she should display before ordinary visitors. "I hope you won't mind me coming, Mrs. Lee; I couldn't sit comfortable and up my work; but if you'd rather not, you've only to say the word, you know." "I take it very kind o' you, Annie,” and Mrs. Lee motioned her to be seated; "for eight or nine months is a long time to look forward to, and we don't know what may happen-our breath is only in our nostrils,' you know." Annie nodded her head lugubriously in assent to the widow's remark, and Mrs. Lee continued, ""Twould be a different thing, now, if Philip were comfortably settled with a wife, who'd look after his clothes and keep the place tidy; then, when my time was come, I should feel my labour was ended and my race run; but as it is, I can't help feeling anxious about him.” "Oh! but you mustn't think o' that. Philip would be in a way if he thought you felt at all mopey about him; he made And Philip, finding, in his own phrase, Mrs. Davis, and Jane Grant, and me, and that the soundings were dangerous, edged everybody, promise we'd look in upon off, afraid of entering upon troubled wa-you, and bear you company whenever you' were likely to feel lonesome." ters. While Mrs. Lee "is trying to combat the desolate feeling" with which parting from her son has filled her, by reading portion after portion of the Book of Psalms, she has an inward solace, which in reality softens the separation far more effectually than the sweet words she repeats to herself half aloud in the vain endeavour to keep her thoughts from scheming and devising what will be the most certain plan of opening Philip's eyes to the ways of that artful girl who has caught his fancy. Absence, the mother argues, is for most people a sure cure, and "out o' sight, out o' mind" holds as good with men as with maidens. It will be 66 "Dear fellow!" ejaculated the widow, as soon as she could steady her voice. "Ah, Annie! though I his mother say it, she'll be a lucky girl who gets my Philip for a husband." Annie bent a little lower over her work. "There was never a tenderer heart than his, nor one more loving and thoughtful; and I can say, what few mothers can of a son nigh upon thirty, and a sea-faring man too, that Philip's never given me of his own actions one hour, no, not one minute's uneasiness.' "I'm sure o' that," answered Annie. "Father often says he's a pattern to the Redneap men, and if he had a son he should wish him to be just such another me. I shall be glad o' your company, for as Philip." "Well!" said Mrs. Lee, looking pleasantly at the young girl, "and if I had a daughter to choose she would be one o' your pattern, Annie, for I will say that I couldn't lay my finger on a more industrious, tidy girl than yourself." 66 Oh! I don't know, Mrs. Lee,” and Annie gave a little sigh. "Sometimes I wonder whether men don't think most of those who are ready with their laugh and joke for every comer." I can't help thinking about Philip, and it's a pleasure to have anybody you can open your mouth to. I wanted to make him a cup 'fore he started, for he always says no brew's like mother's brew: but he couldn't stop, for Thomas Kent takes him round to Luton, and he wasn't sure as to the time he started." "I thought five o'clock was Kent's time," said Annie; "'tis altered as the summer comes on, you know." "There now!" exclaimed Mrs. Lee; "I'll be bound for it that never struck Phil. He was gone from here by two o'clock, and he went straight to Kent's." 66 It couldn't have been my Philip." said the widow incredulously, although a stab at her heart seemed to catch her breath and prevent her uttering the words. Mrs. Lee shook her head. "Not a bit of it," she said; "men will be men all the world over, and where they find they can take they'll give, but t'aint among such Did he?" and Annie looked amazed. maidens that they look for wives, least-"Why Lydia Gale said she met him by ways not men like my Philip. I know all Turncross stile as she came up with her the idle talk there's been about his having sedge." a fancy for Margot Dutton; but do you think I set any store by such gossip? Not I. I know my boy, and I know his opinion o' most o' the Redneap maidens, and what he has said about Margot I am not going to repeat, any more than I'll tell what he's said o' others that I might name," and she nodded her head significantly toward Annie, whose heightening colour showed that she felt herself to have been the object of remarks which were anything but unfavourable. 66 When he comes back again," continued the widow, "I trust he will be able to offer any woman a comfortable home; and then we shall see who his eye's bin on all this time." Annie got redder than ever, and stammered out something about it being so fortunate that young Mr. Chenevix should want the Bluebell just now. 'Twas one o' those things that was to be," said Mrs. Lee: "an opening made by a higher hand than ours. I thought Mr. Vesey alluded very feelingly to it in his sermon last Sunday as was a week." "Oh! he's a very kind-hearted man is Mr. Vesey," replied Annie; "but father says all the talk at Hagley is about Mr. Horan. John Simmons told him, that when he preaches there's not a dry eye in the whole chapel." 66 Surely!" ejaculated the widow. "I reckon he's one o' the Horans, as his grandfather used to keep a drapery shop at Rickfield." "So father said, and he's going to ask him over. 'Twould be a capital thing if he could get him to preach the anniversary sermon. Father's gone to Hagley to-day; so he'll find out all about him." Well, then, there's no call for you going home, so stay and have your tea with "It must have been him, for she bade him good-bye, and wished him good luck." Mrs. Lee was silent. Could it be possible that Philip was going to see Margot? Willingly would she have thought otherwise, but what else could have taken him to Turncross? -a steep road leading only to the rugged descent, by which, in bygone days, the free traders had reached the beach below, and which now brought you within a stone's throw of old Dutton's cottage. Naomi Lee's face grew stern, and her mouth tightened, as a fresh feeling of hatred sprang up within her towards the girl who could rob her of the last few hours she might have had with her son. She could have wept sorrowful tears to think that Philip should have left her, to spend his time with, and give his parting words to, any one but his mother; but towards Margot her thoughts were hard and bitter- nothing should be left undone to put a stop to this glamour cast over her boy. Margot should never set foot in her house; and though, wishing to appear indifferent in the presence of Annie, she managed to steady her voice, the cups and saucers rattled in her hand as she said unconcernedly: "He wanted, I reckon, to see how the wind was like to be; nothing else could 'a took him Turncross way.' CHAPTER II. AND what was it that was taking Philip Lee with quick step and heavy heart down the rugged road, which he had chosen in order that he might escape ob ton servation? He had already bidden fare- | making nets, collecting eggs from the surwell to the inmates of the little cottage rounding villages and outlying farms, and below — said all he had to say to old Dut-selling bouillon to the sailors, she conextracted every promise from Mar- trived to gain a scanty, but respectable, got that jealous love could ask or invent livelihood. All her neighbours had a and yet he could not go without seeing good word for the kindly, warm-hearted her once more. A foreboding of evil woman, and, though they could do little seemed to spread a cloud over him, and else, cheered her by their sympathy and he heartily wished he had taken Margot's helped her with their outspoken approval. advice, and had been contented to labour With the best heart in the world poor at home a year longer rather than thus old Dutton could not give his daughter-inrisk the breaking of their engagement by law much assistance. He was never able this voyage and necessary parting. For to replace the Nancy, and afterwards - oh, terrible blow to his mother! sailed as mate instead of master. Added Philip and Margot were actually be- to this, rheumatism settled in his legs, trothed: it was only known to themselves, and for weeks together the old man would and guessed at by the old grandfather; be disabled and utterly useless for anybut they had exchanged vows of love and thing but looking after the boats of the constancy, and there was an understand- Redneap men, and doing any little repairs ing that on Philip's return Margot was to to them which might be necessary. As be his wife. One of the principle reasons the disease gradually increased, this befor this secrecy was the feeling of dislike came his principle occupation, and, that which existed between Mrs. Lee and Mar- he might be on the spot and handy to his got; for the girl did not disguise the fact work, he turned the remains of a that she found it impossible to love wrecked_vessel into a sort of dwellingPhilip's mother. "Yes, I daresay she is very good," she would say in reply to some defence from Philip, "but oh! she is so stiff and cold; and there is something in the way she speaks which brings shame to my face and tears to my eyes. I would that your mother should be my mother, Philip, but I fear greatly she will never love poor me." place. To this, as time went on, he added a shed or so, then he set about converting the odd bits of wood into tables, chairs, and various other articles of furniture, until the old fellow grew so proud of Shingle Cottage, as he named it, that he would not have exchanged it for any in the village, where he could not have smelt the sea by day, nor have been lulled to sleep by its roar at night. Margot was the orphan grandchild of old Dutton, a man who in his day had Except by the perilous path at the back, been one of the boldest sailors in Redneap. Shingle Cove was often unapproachable; He and his son were joint proprietors of and a popular belief existed, that some a small smack which traded to Honfleur day the inhabitants of Redneap would for fruit and eggs. In this way young awake to find that during a gale poor old Dutton became acquainted with his French Dutton and his quaint abode had been wife; whom he soon left a widow, for the washed out to sea together. But, unNancy, of Redneap, went down one shaken by such forebodings, the hardy, stormy night in sight of Notre Dame fearless sailor lived contented and happy, de Grâce, while trying to make Hon- delighted, when, by hard work and by fleur harbour. Old Dutton managed stinting himself of everything but the bare to save himself. No doubt, his brave son necessaries of life, he could send some litmight have done so also, had not the tle token of remembrance to his " "poor piteous cries of the little ship-boy made Charlie's little un." These somewhat inhim turn back, and in the endeavour to congruous presents he generally intrusted rescue him they both sank to rise no more. to his prime favourite, Philip Lee, who, So Margot came into the world fatherless; first in the Ocean's Pride, and afterwards and though, as years rolled on, many a in the Bluebell, was engaged in the same stout fisherman offered in name to fill that trade as Dutton and his son had been. place to the little dark-eyed maiden, who, Out of regard for his friend, and respect first on her mother's back and afterwards for Madame Dutton, Philip always took toddling by her side, seemed to have a her stock of eggs, and made sundry venclaim upon them all, Madame Dutton re-tures of melons for her, and during his fused to have any successor to the English stay at Honfleur lodged and boarded at husband she had loved so passionately, her house. Thus Margot became early and struggled on bravely and successfully familiarized with Philip, who endeared to maintain herself and her child. By himself to the child, not only by being the |