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About Google Book Search Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through I lie lull lexl of 1 1 us book on I lie web al |_-.:. :.-.-:: / / books . qooqle . com/| ■^w** HARPER'S LIBRARY OF SELECT NOVELS. Mailing Notice— Uakper & Brothers irill send their Books by Mail, postage free, to any part of the United States, on receipt of the Price, Harper's Catalogue and Tbade-List will be sent by mail on receipt of Five Cents, or they may be obtained gratuitously on application to the Publishers personally. PRICE 1. Pelham. By Bulger $0 T5 2. The Disowned. By Buiwer 75 3. Devereux. By Buiwer 50 4. Paul Clifford. ByBulwer 50 5. Eugene Aram. By Buiwer 50 6. The Last Days of Pompeii. By Buiwer 50 7. The Czarina. By Mrs. Hofland 50 8. RienzL ByBulwer • 75 9. Self-Devotion. By Miss Campbell 50 10. The Nabob at Home 50 11. Erneat Maltravera. By Buiwer 50 12. Alice ; or, The Mysteries. By Buiwer 50 13. The Last of the Barons. By Buiwer 1 00 14. Forest Days. By James 50 15. Adam Brown, the Merchant. By H. Smith ... 50 16. Pilgrims of the Rhine. By Buiwer 25 IT. The Home. By Miss Bremer 50 18. The Lost Ship. By Captain Neale 75 19. The False Heir. By James 5.) 20. The Neighbors. By Miss Bremer 50 21. Nina. By Miss Bremer 50 22. The President's Daughters. By Miss Bremer. . 25 23. The Banker's Wife. By Mrs. Core 50 24. The Birthright. By Mrs. Gore 25 25. New Sketches of Every-day Life. By Miss Bremer 50 26. Arabella Stuart. By James 50 27. The Grumbler. By Miss Pickering 50 23. The Unloved One. By Mrs. Hofland 50 29. Jack of the MiiL By William Howitt 25 30. The Heretic. By Lajetchnikoff . . . .' 50 31. TheJew. By Spindler 75 32. Arthur. By Sue 75 33. Chatsworth. By W T ard 50 34. The' Prairie Bird. By C. A. Murray 1 00 35. Amy Herbert. By Miss Sewell 50 36. Rose d' Aibret. By James 50 37. The Triumphs of Time. By Mrs. Marsh 75 38. The H Family. By Miss Bremer 50 39. The Grandfather. By Miss Pickering 50 40. Arrah Neil. By James 50 41. The Jilt 50 42. Tales from the German 50 43. Arthur AHtodel. By H. Smith 50 44. Agincourt By James 50 45. The Regent' 8 Daughter 50 46. The Maid of Honor 50 47. Safia. By De Beauvoir 50 48. Look to the End. By Mrs. Ellis 50 49. The Improvisators By Andersen 50 50. The Gambler's Wife. By Mrs. Grey 50 51. Veronica. By Zschokke 50 52. Zoe. By Miss Jewsbury 50 53. Wyoming 50 54. De Kohin. By Sue 50 55. Self. By the Author of " Cecil" 75 56. The Smuggler. By James 75 57. The Breach of Promise 50 68. Parsonage of Mora. By Miss Bremer 25 59. A Chance Medley. By T. C. Grattan 50 60. The White Slave 1 00 61. The Bosom Friend. By Mrs. Grey 50 62. Amaury. By Dumas 50 63. The Author's Daughter. By Mary Howitt 25 64. Only a Fiddler, &c By Andersen 50 65. The Whiteboy. By Mrs. Hall 50 66. The Foster- Brother. Edited by Leigh Hunt. . . 50 67. Love and Mesmerism. By H. Smith 75 68. Ascanio. By Dumas 75 69. ]jidy of Milan. Edited by Mrs. Thomson 75 70. The Citizen of Prague 1 00 71. The Royal Favorite. By Mrs. Gore 5a 72. The Queen of Denmark. By Mrs. Gore 50 73. The Elves, &c. By Tieck 50 74. 75. The Stepmother. By James 1 25 76. Jessie's Flirtations 50 77. Chevalier d'Harmental. By Dumas 50 78. Peers and Parvenus. By Mrs. Gore 50 79. The Commander of Malta. By Sue 50 60, The Female Minister 50 PRICK- 81. Emilia Wyndham. By Mrs. Marsh $0 75 82. The Bush- Ranger. By Charles Kowcroft 50 83 . The Chronicles of Clovernook 25 84 Genevieve. By Lamartine 25 85. Livonian Tales 25 86. Lettice Arnold. By Mrs. Marsh 25 87. Father Darcy. By Mrs. Marsh 75 88. Leontine. By Mrs. Maberly 50 89. Heidelberg. By James 50 90. Lucretia. ByBulwer 75 91 . Beauchamp. By James 75 92,94. Fortescue. By Knowles 1 00 93. Daniel Dennison, &c By Mrs. Hofland 50 95. Cinq-Mars. By De Vigny 50 96. Woman's Trials. By Mrs. S. C. Hall 75 97. The Castle of Ehrenstein. By James 50 98. Marriage. By Miss S. Ferrier 50 99. Roland Cashel. By Lever 1 25 100. The Martins of Cro' Martin. By Lever 1 25 101. Russell. By James 60 102. A Simple Story. By Mrs. Inchbald 50 103. Norman's Bridge. By Mrs. Marsh 50 104. Alamance 60 105. Margaret Graham. By James 25 106. The Wayside Cross. By E. H. Milman 25 107. The Convict By James 60 10S. Midsummer Eve. By Mrs. 8. C. Hall 60 109. Jane Eyre. By Currer Bell 75 110. The Last of the Fairies. By James 25 11 1. Sir Theodore Broughton. By James 50 1 12. Self-ControL By Mary Brunton 75 113,114. Harold. ByBulwer 1 09 115. Brothers and Sisters. By Miss Bremer 60 116. Gowrie. By James. 50 117. A Whim and its Consequences. By James. .. 50 118. Three Sisters and Three Fortunes. By G. H. Lewes 76 119. The Discipline of Life 60 120. Thirty Years Since. By James 76 121. Mary Barton. By Mrs. Gaskell 60 122. The Great Hoggarty Diamond. By Thackeray 26 123. The Forgery^ By James 60 124. The Midnight Sun. By Miss Bremer 25 125. 126. The Caxtons. By Buiwer 75 127. Mordaunt Hall. By Mrs. Marsh 60 128. My Uncle the Curate 60 129. The Woodman. By James 75 130. The Green Hand. A " Short Yarn" 75 131. Sidonia the Sorceress. By Meinhold 1 00 132. Shirley. By Currer Bell 1 00 133. The Ogilvies. By Miss Mulock . . . v 60 134. Constance Lyndsay. By G. C. H 60 135. Sir Edward Graham. By Miss Sinclair 1 00 136. Hands not Hearts. By Miss WiUdnson 50 1 37. The Wilmingtons. By Mrs. Marsh 60 138. Ned Allen. By D. Hannay 60 130. Night and Morning. By Buiwer 75 140. The Maid of Orleans 76 141. Antonina. By Wilkle Collins 50 142. Zanoni. By Buiwer 60 1 43. Reginald Hastings. By Warburton 60 144. Pride and Irresolution 60 145. The Old Oak Chest. By James 60 146. Julia Howard. By Mrs. Martin Bell 60 147. Adelaide Lindsay. Edited by Mrs. Marsh. ... 50 148. Petticoat Government. By Mrs. Trollope .... 60 149. The Luttrells. By F. Wflliams 6* 150. Singleton Fontenoy, R. N. By Hannay 60 151. Olive. By Miss Mulock 60 152. Henry Smeaton. By James 60 153. Time, the Avenger. By Mrs. Marsh 60 154. The Commissioner. By James 1 00 155. The Wife's Sister. By Mrs. Hubback 60 156. The Gold Worshipers 60 157. The Daughter of Night By Fnllom 60 158. Stuart of Dunleath. By Hon. Caroline Norton 60 159. Arthur Conway. By Captain E. H. Milman. . 50 160. TheFate. By James 50 161. The Lady and the Priest By Mrs. Maberly. . 50 2 Harper's Library of Select Novels. mm 162. Aims and Obstacles. By James $0 50 163. The Tutor's Ward 60 164. Florence Sackville. By Mrs. Burbury 75 165. Ravenscliffe. By Mrs. Marsh 50 166. Maurice Tiernay. By Lever 100 167. The Head of the Family. By Miss Mulock. . . 75 16*. Darien. ByWarburton 60 169. Falkenburg 75 170. TheDaltons. By Lever. 160 17 L Ivar; or, The Skjuts-Boy. By Miss Carlen . . 60 172. Pequinillo. By James 60 173. Anna Hammer. By Temme 60 174. A Life of Vicissitudes. By James 60 175. Henry Esmond. By Thackeray 75 176. 177. My Novel. By Bulwer 1 50 178. Katie Stewart. By Mrs. Oliphant 25 179. Castle Avon. By Mrs. Marsh 60 180. Agnes SoreL. By James 50 181. Agatha's Husband. By Miss Mulock 50 182. Villette. By Currer Bell 75 183. Lover's Stratagem. By Miss Carlen 60 184. Clouded Happiness. By Countess D'Orsay. . . 50 185. Charles Auchester. A Memorial 75 1S6. Lady Lee's Widowhood 60 187. The Dodd Family Abroad. By Lever 1 $5 188. Sir Jasper Carew. By I^ever 75 189. Quiet Heart. By Mrs. Oliphant 25 190. Aubrey. By Mrs. Marsh 75 191. Ticonderoga. By James 60 192. Hard Times. By Dickens 50 193. The Young Husband. By Mrs. Grey 60 194. The Mother's Recompense. By Grace Aguilar. 75 195. Avillion, and other Tales. By Miss Mulock. . . 1 25 196. North and South. By Mrs. Gaskell 50 197. Country Neighborhood. By Miss Dupuy 50 198. Constance Herbert. By Miss Jewsbury 50 199. The Heiress of Haughton. By Mrs. Marsh. . . 50 800. The Old Dominion. By James 50 801. John Halifax. By Miss Mulock 75 802. Evelyn Marston. By M rs. Marsh 50 808. Fortunes of Glencore. By Lever 5'> 804. Leonora d'Orco. By James 50 806. Nothing New. By Miss Mulock 60 806. The Rose of Ashurst By Mrs. Marsh 60 80T. The Athelings. By Mrs. Oliphant 75 808. Scenes of Clerical Life. By George Eliot 75 809. My Lady Ludlow. By Mrs. Gaskell 25 810. 811. Gerald Fitzgerald. By Lever 50 818. A Life for a Life. By Mis* Mulock 50 813. Sword and Gown. By Geo. Lawrence 25 814. Misrepresentation. By Anna H. Drury 1 00 815. The Mill on the Floss. By George Eliot 75 816. One of Them. By Lever 75 817. A Day's Hide. By Lever 50 818. Notice to Quit By Wills 50 819. A Strange Story. By Bulwer 1 00 880. The Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson. ByTroUope 50 881. Abel Drake's Wife. By John Saunders 75 888. Olive Blake's Good Work. By Jcaffreson. ... 75 888. The Professor's I-ady 25 824. Mistress and Maid. By Miss Mulock 50 825. Aurora Floyd. By M. E. Braddon 75 886. Barrington. By Lever 75 827. Sylvia's Lovers. By Mrs. Gaskell 75 888. A First Friendship 50 829. A Dark Night's Work. By Mrs. Gaskell 50 880. Mrs. Lirriper's Lodgings 25 881. StOlave's 75 882. A Point of Honor 50 888. Live it Down. By Jeaflfreson 1 00 884. Martin Pole. By Saunders 50 885. Mary Lyndsay. By Lady Emily Ponsonby. . . 50 886. Eleanor's Victory. By M. E. Braddon 75 887. Rachel Ray. By Trollope 50 888. John Marchmont's Legacy. By M. E. Braddon 75 889. Annia Warleigh's Fortunes. By Holme Lee. . 75 840. The Wife's Evidence. By Wills 50 841. Barbara's History. By Amelia B. Edwards. . . 75 848. Cousin Fhttlis. By Mrs. Gaskell 25 848. What will he do with It! By Bulwer 1 50 844. The Ladder of life. By Amelia R Edwards. . 50 845. Denis Duval. By Thackeray 50 846. Maurice Dering. By Geo. Lawrence 50 847. Margaret Denzil's History 75 844. Quite Alone. By George Augustus Sala 75 849. Mattie: a Stray * 75 £50. My Brother's Wife. By Amelia B. Edwards. . 50 8M. Upcle Silas. By J. S. Le Fann 75 858. Lovel the Widower. By Thackeray 25 858. IGm Mackenzie. By Anthony Trollope 50 864. On Guard.. By Annie Thomas 50 855. Theo LftlgJL By Annie Thomas 50 856. Denis Ddnne. By Annie Thomas ^50 rmcE 857. Belial $0 50 858. Carry's Confession. By the Author of u Mat- tie: astray" 75 259. Miss Carew. By Amelia B. Edwards 50 260. Hand and Glove. By Amelia B. Edwards .... 50 261. Guy Deverell. By J. S. Le Fanu 50 262. Half a Million of Money. By Amelia B. Ed- wards 75 868. The Belton Estate. By Anthony Trollope 50 864. Agnes. By Mrs. Oliphant 75 265. Walter Goring. By Annie Thomas 75 266. Maxwell Drewitt. By Mrs. J. H. Riddell 75 267. The Toilers of the Sea. By Victor Hugo 75 268. Miss Marjoribanks. By Mrs. Oliphant 50 269. The True History of a Little Ragamuffin 50 270. Gilbert Rugge. By the Author of " A First Friendship" 1 00 871. Sans Merci. By Geo. Lawrence. 50 272. Phemie Keller. By Mrs. J. H. Riddell 5i» 273. Land at Last. By Edmund Yates 50 274 Felix Holt, the Radical. By George Eliot .... 75 275. Bound to the Wheel. By John Saunders 75 276. All in the Dark. By J. S. Le Fanu 50 277. Kissing the Rod. By Edmund Yates 75 278. The Race for Wealth. By Mrs. J. H. Riddell. . 75 279. Lizzie Lorton of Greyrigg. By Mrs. E. Lynn Linton 75 280. The Beauclercs, Father and Son. By Clarke. 50 281. Sir Brooke Fosebrooke. By Charles Lever ... 50 282. Madonna Mary. By Mrs. Oliphant 50 283. Cradock NoweU. By R. D. Blackmore 75 284. Bernthal. From the German of L. Muhlbach. 50 285. Rachel's Secret 75 286. The Claverings. By Anthony Trollope 50 287. The Village on the Cliff. By Miss Thackeray. 25 288. Played Out By Annie Thomas 75 289. Black Sheep. By Edmund Yates 50 290. Sowing the Wind. By Mrs. E. Lynn Linton.. 50 291. Norn and Archibald Lee 50 292. Raymond's Heroine 50 293. Mr. Wynyard's Ward. By Holme Lee 50 294. Alec Forbes of Howglen. By Mac Donald 75 2P5. No Man's Friend. By F. W. Robinson 75 206. Called to Accouut. By Annie Thomas 50 297. Caste 50 298. The Curate's Discipline. By Mrs. Eiloart 50 299. Circe. By Babington White 50 300. The Tenants of Malory. By J. S. Le Fann 60 301. Carlyon's Year. By the Author of ** Lost Sir Massingberd," &c. 25 302. The Waterdale Neighbors. By the Author of "Paul Massie" 50 303. Mabel's Progress. By the Author of " The Sto- ry of Aunt Margaret's Trouble" 50 304. Guild Court. By George Mac Donald 50 j 305. The Brothers* Bet. By Emilie Flygare Carl* n 55 ! 3^6. Playing for High Stakes. By Annie Thomas. . 50 307. Margaret's Engagement r. 50 308. One of the Family. By the Author of u Car- | lyon'sYear" 25 309. Five Hundred Pounds Reward. By a Barrister 50 310. Brownlows. By Mr?. Oliphant 37 311. Charlotte's Inheritance. By M. E. Braddon . . 50 , 312. Jeannie's Quiet Life. By the Author of " St. Olaves," &c 50 313. Poor Humanity. By F. W. Robinson 50 ] 314. Brakespeare. By Geo. Lawrence 50 315. A Lost Name. By J. Sheridan Le Fanu 50 316. Love or Marriage ? By William Black 50 317. Dead-Sea Fruit. By M. E. Braddon 50 31 S. The Dower House. By Annie Thomas 50 319. The Bramleighs of Bishop's Folly. By Lever. 50 320. Mildred. By Georgiana M. Craik 50 j 321. Nature's Nobleman. By the Author of "Ra- | chel's Secret" 50 322. Kathleen. By the Author of " Raymond's He- i roine" 50 323- That Boy of Norcott's. By Charles Lever 25 324. In Silk Attire. By W. Black 50 325. Hetty. By Henry Kingsley 25 326. False Colors. By Annie Thomas 50 327. Meta's Faith. By the Author of " St. Olave's." 50 323. Found Dead. By the Author of "Carlyon's ! Year" 50 329. Wrecked in Port. By Edmund Y«tes 60 330. The Minister's Wife. By Mrs. Oliphant 75 33L A Beggar on Horseback. By the Author of j "Carlyon's Year" 50 : 332. The Vicar's Courtship. By Walter Thorl ury. 75 332. Kitty. By the Author of u Doctor Jacob" .... 50 333. Only Herself. By Annie Thomas 50 334. Hirell. By John Saunders 50 385. Under Foot. By Alton Clyde 60 , 336 So Runs the World Away. By Mrs. A. C. Steele. 5t & / ■■& S'* -. : . '■ 7*«.-, ->..K "*I'. L PUT YOURSELF Df HIS PLACE. & NoueL By CHARLES READE, ILLUSTRATED. iy body shall think he can do Ihe same: sh HoRACBi Art of Psttry. NEW YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, FEAHKLIK SQUARE ' 8 7°- Thl. On. 4J7B-WAY-BK10 s CHARLES READE'S NOVELS. POPULAR EDITION. PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. Illustrated 8vo, Paper, 75 cents. HARD CASH. A Matter-of-Fact Romance. Illustrated. 8vo, Paper, 35 cents. GRIFFITH GAUNT ; or, Jealousy. Illustrated. 8vo, Paper, 25 cents. NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND. 8vo, Paper, 35 cents. LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG. 8vo, Paper, 35 cents. FOUL PLAY. 8vo, Paper, 25 cents. WHITE LIES. 8vo, Paper, 35 cents. CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH ; or, Maid, Wife, and Widow. 8vo, Paper, 50 cents. PEG WOFFINGTON, CHRISTIE JOHNSTONE, and Other Stories. 8vo, Paper, 50 cents. Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York. Sent by mail> postage prepaid^ to any part of the United States ^ on receipt of the price. PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. " I will 'frame a work of fiction upon notorious fact, so that any body shall think he can do the same; shall labor and toil attempting the same, and fail — such is the power of sequence and connection in writing" — HORACE: Art of Poetry. wool iind cotton, forge in steel from the finest )].'->.Ki- ■.]]> to a ship's armor, and so add considera- bly to the kingdom's wealth. Id it j[](l;;st!-y so v:ist. working by steam on a lim- ited i;iiu:e, litis iieeii fatal to beauty: Hitlshor- iiii-li, thon^i built nil one of the loveliest sites in England, is perhaps the most hideous town in crea- tion. All tips and downs arid back slums. Not one of its wriggling, broken-backed streets has handsome shoos in an mito.kftri row. Houses seem to have buttled in the air. and snick wher- ever tl ley tiunlilea down Oead out of the melee. But worst of all. the city is pockmarked with p!ililiL-.hoi;-es, ami bristle- whh hi^'h round chim- nevs. These are not confined to a locality, but stuck all over the place like cloves in an orange. They defy the law, and belch forth massy vol- umes of black smoke, that hang like acres of crape over the place, and veil the sun and the hlne sky even in the brightest day. But in a fog — why, the air of Hillsborough looks a thing to plough, if you want a dirty job. More than one crystal stream runs sparkling down the valleys, and enters the town ; hat they soon get defiled, and creep through it heavily charged with dyes, clogged with putridity, and bubbling with poisonous gases, rill at last they ' ik, stink, and malaria, and people iwl. >e witter is blacking, and whose air is coal, lies in a basin of delight ami beauty : noble slopes, broad valleys, watered by rivers ami brooks of singular beauty, and I'ritijR'd by fair woods in places; and, eastward, the hills rise into mountains, and amongst them lowers Cainihojie, striped with silver rills, and vio- let in the setting sun. Cairnhope is a forked mountain, with a bosom of purple heather and a craggy head. Between its folks stood, at the period of my story, a- great cariosity; which merits description on its own account, and also as the scene of curious incidents It was a deserted church. The walls were pierced with arrow-slits, through which the orig- inal worshippers had sent many a deadly shaft in defense of theirwomen and cattle, collected with- in the sat red edifice at the first Dews of marau- ders coming. Built up among the heathery hills in times of war and trouble, it had outlived its uses. Its peo- ple hud long ago gone down into the fruitful val- ley, and raited another (hutch in their midst, and leii this old house of God alone, and silent as the tombs of their forefathers that lay around it. It was no ruin, though on the road to decay. One of the side walls was much lower than the other, and the roof bad two great waves, and was heavily clothed, in natural patterns, with velvet moss, and sprinkled all over with bright amber lichen : a few tiles hud slipped off in two places, and* showed the rafters brown with time and weather : but the structure was solid and sound ; the fallen tdes lay undisturbed beneath the eaves; not a brick, not a beam, not a gravestone had been stolen, not even to build the new church: of the diamond panes full half remained ; the 8 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. stone font was still in its place, with^ts Gothic cover, richly carved ; and four brasses reposed in the chancel, one of them loose in its bed. What had caused the church to be deserted had kept it from being desecrated ; it was clean* out of the way. No gypsy, nor vagrant, ever slept there, and even the boys of the village kept their distance. Nothing would have pleased them better than to break the sacred windows time had spared, and defile the graves of their forefathers with pitch- farthing and other arts ; but it was three miles off, and there was a lion in the way : they must pass in sight of Squire Raby's house ; and, whenever they had tried it, he and his groom had followed them on swift horses that could jump as well as gallop, had caught them in the churchyard, and lashed them heartily ; and the same night notice to quit had been given to their parents, who were all Mr. Raby's weekly tenants : and this had led to a compromise and flagella- tion. Once or twice every summer a more insidious foe approached.* Some little party of tourists, including a lady, who sketched in water and never finished any thing, wotdd hear of the old church, and wander up to it. But Mr. Raby's trusty groom was sure to be after them, with or- ders to keep by them, under guise of friendship, and tell them outrageous figments, and see that they demolished not, stole not, sculptured not. All this was odd enough in itself, but it aston- ished nobody who knew Mr. Raby. His father and predecessor had guarded the old church re- ligiously in his day, and was buried in it, by his own orders ; and, as for Guy Raby himself, what wonder he respected it, since his own mind, like that old church, was out of date, and a* relic of the past ? <>^An antique Tory squire, nursed in expiring Ja- ^ joofcitism, and cradled in the pride of race ; edu- cated at Oxford, well read in books, versed in county business, and acquainted with trade and commerce ; yet puffed up with aristocratic no- tions, and hugging the very prejudices our nobil- ity are getting rid of — as fast as the vulgar will let them. He had a sovereign contempt for tradespeople, and especially for manufacturers. Any one of those numerous disputes between masters and me- chanics, which distinguish British industry, might have been safely referred to him, for he abhorred and despised them both with strict impartiality. The lingering beams of a bright December day still gilded the moss-clad roof of that deserted church, and flamed on its broken panes, when a young man came galloping towards it, from Hills- borough, on one of those powerful horses com- mon in that district. He came so swiftly and so direct, that, ere the sun had been down twenty minutes, he and his smoking horse had reached a winding gorge about three furlongs from the church. Here, however, the bridle -road, which had hitherto served his turn across the moor, turned off sharp- ly towards the village of Cairnhope, and the horse had to pick his way over heather, and bog, and great Joose stones. He lowered his nose, and hesitated more than once. But the rein was loose upon his neck, and he was left to take his time* ( He had also his own tracks to guide him in places, for this was by no means his first visit ; and he managed so well, that at last he got safe to a mountain stream which gurgled past the north side of the churchyard : he went cau- tiously through the water, and then his rider gathered up the reins, stuck in the spurs, and put him at a part of the wall where the moonlight showed a considerable breach. The good horse rose to it, and cleared it, with a foot to spare ; and the invader landed in the sacred precincts un- observed, fqr the road he had come by was not vis- ible from Raby House, nor indeed was the church itself. He was of swarthy complexion, dressed in a plain suit of tweed, well made, and neither new nor old. His hat was of the newest fashion, and glossy. He had no gloves on. He dismounted, and led his horse to the porch. He took from his pocket a large glittering key and unlocked the church-door; then gave his horse a smack on the quarter. That sagacious animal walked into the church directlv, and his iron hoofs rang strangely as he paced over the brick floor of the aisle, and made his way under the echoing, vault, up to the very altar ; for near it was the vestry-chest, and in that chest his corn. The young man also entered the church ; but soon came out again with a leathern bucket in his hand. He then went round the church, and was busily employed for a considerable time. He returned to the porch, carried his bucket in, and locked the door, leaving the key inside. That night Abel Eaves, a shepherd, was led by his dog, in search of a strayed sheep, to a place rarely trodden by the foot of man or beast, viz. the west side of Cairnhope Peak. He came home pale and disturbed, and sat by the fireside in dead silence. " What ails thee, my man ?" said Janet, his wife ; " and there's the very dog keeps a whimpering." " What ails us, wife ? Pincher and me ? We have seen summat." "What was it?" inquired the woman, sud- denly lowering her voice, " Cairnhope old church all o' fire inside." " Bless us and save us !" said Janet, in a whis- per. " And the fire it did come and go, as if hell was a blowing at it. One while the windows was a dull red like, and the next they did flare so, I thought it would all burst out in a blaze. And so 'twould, but, bless your heart, their heads ha'n't ached this hundred year and more, as lighted that there devilish fire." He paused a moment, then said, with sudden gravity and resignation, and even a 6ort of half business-like air, "Wife, ye may make my shroud, and sew it and all ; but I wouldn't buy the stuff of Bess Crummies ; she is an ill-tongued woman, and came near making mischief between you and me last Lammermas as ever was." " Shroud !" cried Mrs. Eaves, getting serious- ly alarmed. "Why, Abel, what is Cairnhope old church to you ? You were born in another parish." Abel slapped his thigh. "Ay, lass, and an- other county, if ye go to that." And his coun- tenance brightened suddenly. "And as for me," continued Janet, "I'm Cairnhope ; but my mother came from Morpeth, a widdy : and she lies within a hundred yards of PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. where I sit a talking to thee. There's none of my kin laid in old Cairnhope churchyard. Warn- ing's not for thee, nor me, nor yet for our Jock. Eh, lad, it will be for Squire Raby. His father lies up there, and so do all his folk. Put on thy hat this minute, and I'll hood myself, and we'll go up to Raby Hall, and tell Squire." Abel objected to that, and intimated that his own fireside was particularly inviting to a man who had seen diabolical fires that came and went, and shone through the very stones and mortar of a dead church. "Nay, but," said Janet, "they sort o' warn- ings are not to be slighted neither. We must put it off on to Squire, or I shall sleep none this night." They went up, hand in hand, and often looked askant upon the road. When they got to the Hall, they asked to see Mr. Raby. After some demur they were admit- ted to his presence, and found him alone, so far as they coidd judge by the naked eye; but, as they arrived there charged to the muzzle with su- perstition, the room presented to their minds some appearances at variance with this seeming soli- tude. Several plates were set as if for guests, and the table groaned, and the huge sideboard blazed, with old silver. The Squire himself was in full costume, and on his bosom gleamed two orders bestowed upon his ancestors by James III. and Charles III. In other respects be was rather innocuous, being confined to his chair by an at- tack of gout, and in the act of sipping the super- annuated compound that had given it him — port. Nevertheless, his light hair, dark eyebrows, and black eyes, awed them, and co-operated with his brilliant costume and the other signs of company, to make them wish themselves at the top of Cairn- hope Peak. However, they were in for it, and told their tale, but in tremulous tones and a low deprecating voice, so that if the room should hap- pen to be infested with invisible grandees from the other world, their attention might not be roused unnecessarily. Mr. Raby listened with admirable gravity; then fixed his eyes on the pair, in silence ; and then said in a tone so solemn it was almost sepul- chral, "This very day, nearly a century and a half ago, Sir Richard Raby was beheaded for be- ing true to his rightful king — " " Eh, dear, poor gentleman ! so now a walks." It was Janet who edged in this — "And," continued the gentleman, loftily ig- noring the comment, " they say that on this night such of the Rabys as died Catholics hold high mass in the church, and the ladies walk three times round the churchyard ; twice with their veils down, once with bare faces, and great eyes that glitter like stars." "I wouldn't like to see the jades," quavered Abel : " their ladyships I mean, axing their par- don." " Nor I !" said Janet, with a great shudder. " It would not be good for you," suggested the Squire ; "for the first glance from those dead and glittering eyes strikes apy person of the lower or- ders dumb ; the second, blind ; the third, dead. So I'm informed. Therefore— let me advise you never to go mar Cairnhope old church at night" "Not I, sir," said the simple woman. " Nor your children : unless you are very tired of them." " Heaven forbid, sir ! But oh, sir, we thought it might be a warning like." "To whom?" " Why, sir, th' old Squire lies there ; and heaps more of your folk : and so Abel here was afear'd — but you are the best judge ; we be no scholars. Th' old church warn't red-hot from eend to eend for naught ; that's certain." " Oh, it is me you came to warn ?" said Raby, and his lip curled. "Well, sir" (mellifluously), "we thought you had the best right to know." " My good woman," said the warned, " I shall die when my time comes. But I shall not hurry myself, for all the gentlemen in Paradise, nor all the blackguards upon earth." He spake, and sipped his port with one hand, and waved them superbly back to their village with the other. But, when they were gone, he pondered. And the more he pondered, the farther he got from the prosaic but singular fact. CHAPTER H. In the old oak dining-room, where the above colloquy took place, hung a series of family por- traits. One was of a lovely girl with oval face, olive complexion, and large dark tender eyes: and this was the gem of the whole collection; but it conferred little pleasure on the spectator, owing to a trivial circumstance — it was turned with its face to the wall ; and all that met the inquiring eye was an inscription on the canvas, not intended to be laudatory. This beauty, with her back to creation, was Edith Raby, Guy's sister. jp During their father's lifetime she was.| ' * Oh yes. Her papa is director of an insurance company in London. I remember her being born very well. The very day she was christened — her name is Grace — you were six years old, and I took you to her christening : and oh, Harry, my brother is her godfather. Don't you go near that Grace Carden ; don't visit any one that knew us in better days." " Why, what have we to be ashamed of?" said Henry. "'Tisn't as if we sat twiddling our thumbs and howling, 4 We have seen better days. ' And 'tisn't as if we asked favors of any body. For my part I don't care who knows I am here, and can make three hundred a year with my own hands and wrong no man. I'd rather be a good workman in wood and steel than an arrogant old fool like your b No, I won't own him for yours or mine either — call him Raby. Well, I wouldn't change places with him, nor any of bis sort : I'm a British workman, and worth a dozen Rabys — useless scum!" "That you are, dear; so don't demean your- self to give any of them lessons. Her godfather would be sure to hear of it." " Well, I won't, to please you. But you have no more pluck than a chicken — begging your par- don, mother." "No, dear," said Mrs. Little, humbly, quite content to gain her point and lose her reputation for pluck ; if any. Henry worked regularly, and fast, and well, and in less than a fortnight a new set of his carv- ing-tools were on view in Hillsborough, and an- other in London ; for it was part of Mr. Cheet- ham's strategy to get all the London orders, and even make London believe that these superior In- struments had originated in Hillsborough. One day Miss Carden called and saw Bayne in the office. Her vivid features wore an expression of vexation, and she complained to him that the wood-carver had never been near her. Bayne was surprised at that ; but he was a man who always allayed irritation on the spot. "Rely on it, there's some reason," said he. " Perhaps he has not got settled. I'll go for him directly." "Thank you," said the young, lady. Then in the same breath, "No, take me to him, and perhaps we may catch him carving — cross thing!" Bayne assented cheerfully, and led the way across a yard, and up a dirty stone stair, which, solid as it was, vibrated with the powerful ma- chinery that steam was driving on every side of it. He opened a door suddenly, and Henry look- ed up from his work, and saw the invaders. He stared a little at first, and then got up and looked embarrassed and confused. "You did not keep your word, sir," said Grace, quietly. "No," he muttered, and hung his head. . He seemed so confused and ashamed, that Bavne came to his assistance. " The fact is, no workman likes to do a hand's-tum on Saturday afternoon. I think they would rather break Sun- day than Saturday," " It is not that, said Henry, in a low voice. Grace heard him, but answered Mr. Bayne: " Oh dear, I wish I had known. I fear I have made an unreasonable request : for, of course, af- ter working so hard all the week — but then why did you let me purchase the tools to carve with ? Papa says they are very dear, Mr. Bayne. But that is what gentlemen always say if one buys any thing that is really good. But of course they will be dear, if I am not to be taught how to use them." She then looked in Mr. Bayne's face with an air of infantine simplicity : " Would Mr. Cheetham take them back, I wonder, under the circumstances ?" At this sly thrust, Bayne began to look anx- ious ; but Henry relieved him the next moment by saying, in a sort of dogged way, "There, there ; I'll come." He added, after a pause, " I will give you six lessons, if you like." "I shall be so much obliged. When will you come, sir?" " Next Saturday, at three o'clock." " I shall be sure to be at home, sir." She then said something polite about not dis- turbing him further, and vanished with an arch smile of pleasure and victory, that disclosed a row of exquisite white teeth, and haunted Henry Little for many a day after. He told his mother what had happened, and showed so much mortified pride that she no long- er dissuaded him from keeping his word. " Only pray don't tell her your name," said she? " Well, but what am I to do if she asks it ?" 14 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. "Say Thompson, or Johnson, or any thing you like, except Little." This request roused Henry's bile. * ' What, am I a criminal to deny my name ? And how shall I look, if I go and give her a false name, and then she comes to Bayne and learns my right one ? No, I'll keep my name back, if I can ; Iwt I'll never disown it. I'm not ashamed of it, if you are." This reduced poor Mrs. Little to silence ; fol- lowed, in due course, by a few meek, clandestine tears. Henry put on his new tweed suit and hat, and went up to the villa. He announced himself as the workman from Cheetham's ; and the footman, who had probably his orders, ushered him into the drawing-room at once. There he found Grace Garden seated, reading, and a young woman sew- ing at a respectful distance. This pair were types ; Grace, of a young English gentlewoman, and Jael Dence of a villager by unbroken descent. Grace was tall, supple, and serpentine, yet not thin; Jael was robust and ample, without being fat ; she was of the same height, though Grace looked the taller. Grace had dark brown eyes and light brown hair ; and her blooming cheek and bewitching mouth shone with expression so varied, yet vivid, and always appropriate to the occasion, grave or gay, playful or dignified, that her countenance made artificial faces, and gig- gling-in-the-wrong-place faces, painfully ridicu- lous. As for such faces as Jael's, it killed them on' the spot, but that was all. Jael's hair was reddish, «na her full eyes were gray ; she was freckled a little under the eyes, but the rest of her cheek full of rich pure color, healthy, but not the least coarse ; and her neck an alabaster column. Hers was a meek, monotonous countenance ; but with a certain look of concentration. Altogeth- er, a humble beauty of the old rural type ; healthy, cleanly, simple, candid, yet demure. Henry came in, and the young lady received him with a manner very different from that she had worn down at the works. She was polite, but rather stiff and dignified. He sat down at her request, and, wondering at himself, entered on the office of preceptor. He took up the carving-tools, and explained the use of several ; then offered, by way of illustration, to work on something. "That will be the best way, much," said Grace quietly, but her eye sparkled. " I dare say there's some lumber to be found in a great house like this ?" "Lumber? why, there's a large garret devoted to it. Jael, please take him to the lumber-room. " Jael fixed her needle in her work, and laid it down gently on a table near her, then rose and led the way to the lumber-room. In that invaluable repository Henry soon found two old knobs lying "on the ground (a four-poster had been wrecked hard by), and a piece of deal plank jutting out of a mass of things. He pulled hard at the plank ; but it was long, and so jam- med in by miscellaneous articles, that he could not get it clear. Jael looked on demurely at his efforts for some time ; then she suddenly seized the plank a little higher up. " Now, pull," said she, and gave a tug like a young elephant : out came the plank directly, with a great rattle of dislocated lumber. • " Well, you are a strong one," said Henry. " Oh, one and one makes two, sir," replied the vigorous damsel, modestly. " That is true, but you threw your weight into it like a workman. Now hand me that rusty old saw, and I'll cut off as much as we want." While he was sawing off a piece of the plank, Jael stood and eyed him silently a while. But presently her curiosity oozed out. "If you please, sir, be you really a working man ?" "Why what else should I be?" was the an- swer, given rather brusquely. " A great many gentlefolks comes here as is no better dressed nor you be." " Dress is no rule. Don't you go and take me for a gentleman, or we sha'n't agree. Wait till I'm as arrogant, and empty, and lazy as they are. I am a workman, and proud of it." " It's naught to be ashamed on, that's certain," said Jael. " I've carried many a sack of grain up into our granary, and made a few hundred- weight of cheese and butter, besides house-work and farm-work. Bless your heart, I bayn't idle when I be at home." " And pray where is your home ?" asked Hen- ry, looking up a moment, not that he cared one straw. " If you please, sir, I do come from Cairnhope village. I'm old Nat Dence's daughter. There's two of us, and I'm the youngest. Squire sent me in here, because Miss said Hillsborough girls wasn't altogether honest. She is a dear kind young lady ; but I do pine for home and the farm at times ; and frets about the young calves : they want so much looking after. And sister, she's a-courting, and can't give her mind to 'em as should be. I'll carry the board for you, sir." "All right," said Henry carelessly; but, as they went along, he thought to himself, " So a skilled workman passes for a gentleman with rus- tics : fancy that!" On their return to the drawing-room, Henry asked for a high wooden stool, or' chair, and said it would be as well to pin some newspapers over the carpet. A high stool was soon got from the kitchen, and Jael went promptly down on her knees, and crawled about, pinning the news- papers in a large square. Henry stood apart, superior, and thought to himself, " So much for domestic servitude. What a position for a handsome girl — creeping about on all fours !" When all was ready, he drew some arabesque forms with his pencil on the board. He then took an exquisite little saw he had invented for this work, and fell upon the board with a rapid- ity that, contrasted with his previous nonchalance, looked like fury. But he was one of your fast workmen. The lithe saw seemed to twist in his hand like a serpent, and in a very short time he had turned four feet of the board into open-work. He finished the edges off with his cutting tools, and there was a transformation as complete as of linen cloth turned lace. Grace was delighted. " Shall I ever be able to do that ?" "In half a day. That's not carving: that's trickery. The tool does it all. Before I invent- ed this saw, a good workman would have been a day over that ; but now you can do it in half an hour, when you are master of the instrument. And now III show you honest work." He took one of the knobs and examined it ; then sawed PIT YOUKSELF IN HIS PLACE. 15 Y a piece, and worked on the rest so cunningly ill) lit* various cutters, that it grew into a bu- i.in i'.ii-c towards their Yen- eves. Hcevenindi- ited Jael Denee's little flat cap b,v a means at in' simple and ingenious. All the time he was inking tiie u omen's eyes literally absorbed him : morning. He then went off with a quick iode- gold. " If yon please, Miss," Baid Jael, "is he a real working man, or only a gentleman as makes it his pastime ?" vinced, "he don't come up to Squire llaby; but, dear heart, ho have a grander way with him than most of the Ilillsliorai-li {ji-nilcfolks as calls red over tin? sanguinary scrawl, and glanced fiom it with a shudder nl the glittering knife. And, while lie was ill [his stare of temporary c.ilianse. tlie works lillcd, the Power moved, the sonorous grind- stones revolved, and every man worked at his enw, except one, the best of them nil beyond comparison. He went to his friend Bayne, and said in a broken voice, "They have put me in heart for work: given me a morning drain, Look here.'" Bayne was shocked, lint, not surprised. " It is the regular routine," said lie. " They begin civ- il ; hut if you tlon't obey, they turn it over to the "Boy I think CIIAI'TEK IV -:si:,;:ii.ii menace wi:h hail spelling. But deeds of Wood had often followed these scrawls in Hillsborough, uid Henry knew it: anil, indeed, he who can not spell in-, own name correctly, \i the very mar; to take !iis neighbor's lire w irhont compunction ; since mercy is a. fruit of knowledge, and cruelty uf ignorance. And then there was soiut"l,ing truly chilling in the mysterious entrance of tliis threat on a dagger's point into a room be hail locked o ver- ity iifeis really in danger?" This is just to frighten yon. e no notice, you'd likely get >r two, at most; and then '■Don, the Hillsborough word. It menus to disable a man lion: work. Sometimes they lie in wait in these dark streets, and fracture his skull with life-preservers. ; or break his arm, or cut the sinew ol" bis wrist; and that they call rhitui him. Or. if it is a grinder, they'll put powder in his trough, and then the sparks of his own making tire it, and scon h kito. ami perhaps blind hint for life ; that's itii,ii him. They have gone as far as shooting men wi;li shot, anil even wiih a bullet, bat never soastn kill the man dead mi ihe spot, Thov th him. Thee an: skilled workmen, yon know ; well, thoy are ".killed work-, men ill violence and all, and it is astonishing how (hey contrive to stop within an inch of mur- der. They'll chance, it ihoiig!) sometimes wrlh their favorite gunpowder. If you're very wrong with the trade, and they can't ito yon any other win-, tbev'll biow mnr house u]i from the cedar, in- "let. it can of powder down ihe chinmcy, with a lighted fuse, or tlim; a petard in a: Ihe window. and they take the chance of killing a hou-efal of innocent people, to gel at the one that's on the hhiek hook, of I he trude. and has to lie doitc." " The beasts ! I'll huv a sis-shootur. I'll meet craft with craft, and force with force." '"What can you do against ten thousand ': \o : go you at once to the Secretary of tlie Kdgc- Tool (iinalers, and gel your t:;,de into hi. union. Von will have to pay ; hut don't mind that. Cheatham will go halves." " I'll go ill dinner- rime." " Because," said Henry, with n rnndor all his own, " I'm getting (oer u:y frighi a hit, and my Wood is beginning to boil al being threatened \ry :i sneak, who wouhlu't stand before me one mo- ment in that yard, knife or no knife." Bayne smiied a friendly tan i faint smile, and -h.ii.H hi. head wi"h grioe ih-mpp: i 'hi: i-ai, iiud said, with wonder, " fancy postponing 1'eaee ! " Henry went to his forge, and worked till din- ner-time. Nay. more, be was a beaalir'al whis- tler, and always whistled a little al bis work ; so to liav he whistled a great deal : in fact, he nve- whist'led. At dinner-time he washed his lace and hands, and pa; on his coat to go out. Hut he had soon sonic reason to regret that he had not atted on Bayiic's advice to the lef.er. PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 19 There had been a large trade's meeting over- night, and the hostility to the London craftsman had spread more widely, in consequence of le- marks that had been there made. This embold- ened the lower class of workmen, who already disliked him out of pure envy, and had often scowled tfftbim in silence : and, now, as he pass- ed them^feey spoke at him, in their peculiar; language, which the great friend and supporter of mechanics in general, The Hillsborough Lib- eral, subsequently christened " the dash dia- lect." ** We want no cockneys here, to steal our work.*' "Did ever a anvil-man handle his own blades in Hillsborough?" 44 Not till this knobstick came," said an- other. Henry turned sharp round upon them haughti- ly, and such was the power of his prompt de- fiant attitude, and his eye, which flashed black lightning, that there was a slight movement of recoil among the actual speakers. They recov- ered it immediately, strong in numbers ; but in that same moment Little also recovered his dis- cretion, and he had the address to step briskly towards the gate and call out the porter ; he said to him in rather a loud voice, for all to hear, "If any body asks for Henry Little, say he has gone to the Secretary of the Edge-Tool Forgers' Union." He then went out of the works ; but, as^ he went, he heard some respectable workman say to the scum, " Come, shut up now. It is in bet- ter hands than yours." Mr. Jobson, the Secretary of the Edge-Tool Forgers, was not at home, but his servant-girl advised Little to try the " Rising Sun :" and in the parlor of that orb he found Mr. Jobson, in company with other magnates of the same class, discussing a powerful leader of the Hillsborough Liberal, in which was advocated the extension of the franchise, a measure calculated to throw pro- digious power into the hands of Hillsborough operatives, because of their great number, and their habit of living each workman in a tenement of his own, however small. Little waited till The Liberal had received its meed of approbation, and then asked respectfully if he might speak to Mr. Jobson on a trade mat- ter. ** Certainly," said Mr. Jobson. " Who are you ?" 1 * My name is Little. I make the carving-tools at Cheetham's." '• I'll go home with you ; myhous#is hard by." When they got to the house, Jobson told him to sit down, and asked him, in a smooth and well- nuaJulated voice, what was the nature of the busi- ness. This query, coming from him, who had set the stone rolling that bade fair to crush him, rather surprised Henry. He put his hand into his pocket, and produced the threatening note, but said nothing as to the time <^ manner of its. arrivall Mr. Jobson perused it carefully, and then re- turned it to Henry. u What have Mje to do with tfhis ?" and he looked quite puzzled. 44 Why, sir, it is the act of your Union." 44 You are sadly misinformed, Mr. Little. We never threaten. AH we do is to remind the master that, if he does not do certain things, certain other things will probably be done by us ; and this we wrap up in the kindest way." u But, sir, you wrote to Cheetham against me." 44 Did we ? Then it will be in my letter-book." He took down a book, examined it, and said, "You are quite right. Here's a copy of the let- ter. Now surely, sir, comparing the language, the manners, and the spelling, with that of the ruffian whose scrawl you received this morn- 44 Then you anown the ruffian's threat, sir?" 44 Most emphatically. And if you can trace it home, he shall smart for interfering in our busi- ness. » 44 Oh, if the trade disowns the blackguard, I can despise him. But you can't wonder at my thinking all these letters were steps of the same — yes, and Mr. Bayne thought so too ; for he said this was the regular routine, and ends in doing a poor fellow for gaining his bread." Mr. Jobson begged to explain. 44 Many complaints are brought to us, who ad- vise the trades. When they are frivolous, we are unwilling to disturb the harmony of employers and workmen ; we reason with the complainant, and the thing dies away. When the grievance is substantial, we take it out of the individual's hands, and lay it before the working committee. A civil note is sent to the master ; or a respect- able member of the committee calls on him, and urges him to redress the grievance, but always in kind and civil terms. The master generally as- sents : experience has taught him it is his wisest course. But if he refuses, we are bound to report the refusal to a larger committee, and sometimes a letter emanates from them, reminding the mas- ter that he has been a loser before by acts of in- justice, and hinting that he may be a loser again. I don't quite approve this form of communication. But certainly it has often prevented the mischief from spreading farther. Well, but perhaps he continues rebellious. What ftflows ? We can't lock up facts that affect the trade ; we are bound to report the case at the next general meeting. It excites comments, some of them perhaps a lit- tle intemperate ; the lower ; V -i 20 PUt YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. then we trouble the master no more than we are forced to do in order to act upon the offenders. But, to come to the point : what is your proposal ?" " I beg to be admitted into the union." " What union ?" "Why, of course the one I have offended, through ignorance. The edge-tool forgers." Jobson shook* his head, astfk said he feared* there were one or two objections. Henry saw it was no use bidding low. "Ill pay £15 down," said he, "and 111 engage not to draw relief from your fund, unless disabled by accident or violence." "I will submit your offer to the trade," said Jobson. He added, " Then there, I conclude, the matter rests for the present." Henry interpreted this to mean that he had nothing to apprehend, unless his proposal should be rejected. He put the £15 down on the table, though Mr. Jobson told him that was premature, and went off as light as a feather. Being nice and clean, and his afternoon's work spoiled, he could not resist the temptation ; he went to "Woodbine Villa." He found Miss Carden at home, and she looked quietly pleased at his unexpected arrival: but Jael's color came and went, and her tranquil bosom rose and fell slow- ly, but grandly, for a minute, as she lowered her head over her work. This was a heavenly change to Henry Little. Away from the deafening workshop, and th^ mean jealousies and brutality of his inferiors, who despised him, to the presence of a beauti- ful and refined girl, who was his superior, yet did not despise him. Prom sin to purity, from dirt to cleanliness, from wir to peace, from vilest passions to Paradise. Her smile had never appeared so fascinating, her manner never so polite yet *placid. How softly and comfortably she and her ample dress nestled into the comer of the sofa and fitted it ! How white her nimble hand ! how bright her de- licious face ! How he longed to kiss her exqui- site hand, or her little foot, or her hem, or the ground she walked on, or something she had touched, or her eye had dwelt on. But he must not* even think too much of such delights, lest he should show his heart too soon. So, after a short lesson, he proposed to go into the lumber-room and find something to work upon. "Yes, do," said Grace. "I would go too; but no; it was my palace of delights for years, and its treasures inexhaustible. I will not go to be robbed of one more illusion. It is just possible I might find it really is what the pro- fane In this house call it — a lumber-room — and not what memory paints it, a temple of divine curiosities." And so she sent them off, and set herself to feel old — " oh, so old." And presently Henry came back, laden with a great wooden bust of Erin, that had been the figure-head of a wrecked schooner ; and set it down, and told her he should carve that into a likeness of herself, and she must do her share of the work. Straightway she forgot she was worn out ; and clapped her hands, and her eyes sparkled. And the floor was prepared, and Henry went to work like one inspired, and the chips flew in every di- rection, and the paint was chiselled away in no time, and the wood proved soft and kindly, and just the color of a delicate skin, and Henry said, " The Greek Statues, begging their pardons, have all got hair like mops ; but this shall have real hair, like your own : and the silk dress, with the gloss on ; and the lace : but the face, the expres- sion, how can I ever — ?" " Oh, never mind them" cried Grace. " Jael, this is too exciting. Please go and tdttiem ' not at home' to any body." ™ Then came a pretty picture: the workman, with his superb hand, brown and sinewy, yet ele- gant and shapely as a Duchess's, and the fingers almost as taper, and his black eye that glowed like a coal over the model, which grew under his masterly strokes, now hard, now light : the en- chanting girl who sat to him, and seemed on fire with curiosity and innocent admiration : and the simple rural beauty, that plied the needle, and beamed mildly with demure happiness, and shot a shy glance upward now and then. Yes, Love was at his old mischievous game. Henry now lived in secret for Grace Carden, and Jael was garnering Henry into her devoted heart, unobserved by the object of her simple de- votion. Yet, of the three, these two, that loved with so little encouragement, were the happiest. To them the world was Heaven this glorious af- ternoon. Time, strewing roses as he went, glided so sweetly and so swiftly, that they started with surprise when the horizontal beams glorified the windows, and told them the brightest day of their lives was drawing to its end. Ah, stay a little while longer for them, Western Sun. Stand still, not as in the cruel days of old, to glare upon poor, beaten, wounded, panting warriors, and rob them of their last chance, the shelter of the night ; but to prolong these holy rapturous hours of youth, and hope, and first love in bosoms unsullied by the world — the golden hours of life, that glow so warm, and shine so bnght, and fleet so soon ; and return in this world — Never more ! CHAPTER V. Henry Little began this bust in a fervid honr, and made great progress the first day : but, as the work grew on him, it went slower and slower; for his ambitious love drove him to attempt beauties of execution that were without prece- dent in this kind of wood-carving ; and, on the other hand,*the fastidiousness of a true craftsman made him correct his attempts again and again. As to those mechanical parts, which he entrusted at first to his pupil, she fell so far short of his ideal even in these, that he told her bluntly she must strike work for the present ; he could not have this spoiled. Grace thought it hard she might not be allow- ed to spoil her own image ; however, she submit- ted, and henceforth her lesson was confined to looking on. And she did look on with inter- est, and, at last, with profound admiration. Hitherto she had thought, with many other pe» sons, that, if a man's hand was the stronger, a woman's was the neater : but now she saw the same hand, which had begun by hewing away the coarse outlines of the model, bestow touches of the chisel so unerring and effective, yet so ex- quisitely delicate, that she said to herself, "No PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 21 woman's hand could be so firm, yet so feather- like, as all this." And the result was as admirable as the process. The very texture of the ivory forehead began to come under those master-touches, executed with perfect and various instruments : and, for the first time perhaps in the history of this art, abloom, more delicate far than that of a plum, crept over the dimpled cheek. But, indeed, when love and skill work together expect a masterpiece. Henry worked on it four afternoons, the happi- est he had ever known. There was the natural pleasure of creating, and the distinct glory and delight of reproducing features so beloved ; and to these joys were added the pleasure of larger conversation. The model gave Grace many op- portunities of making remarks, or asking ques- tions, and Henry contrived to say so many things in answer to one. Sculptor and sitter made ac- quaintance with each other's minds over the growing bust. And then young ladies and gentlemen dropped in, and gazed, and said such wonderfully silly things, and thereby left their characters behind them as fruitful themes for conversation. In short, top- ics were never wanting now. As for Jael, she worked, and beamed, and pon- dered every word her idol uttered, but seldom ventured to say any thing, till he was gone, and then she prattled fa^t enough about him. The work drew near completion. The hair, not in ropes, as heretofore, but its silken threads boldly and accurately shown, yet not so as to cord the mass, and unsatin it quite. The silk dress ; the lace collar ; the blooming cheek, with its ev- ery dimple and incident ; all these were complet- ed, and one eyebrow, a masterpiece in itself. This carved eyebrow was a revelation, and made every body who saw it wonder at the convention- al substitutes they had hitherto put up with in statuary of all sorts, when the eyebrow itself was so beautiful, and might it seems have been imita- ted, instead of libelled, all these centuries. But beautiful works, and pleasant habits, seem particularly liable to interruption. Just when the one eyebrow was finished, and when Jael Dence had come to look on Saturday and Mon- day as the only real days in the week, and when even Grace Carden was brighter on those days, and gliding into a gentle complacent custom, sud- denly a Saturday came and went, but Little did, not appear. Jael was restless. Grace was disappointed, but contented to wait till Monday. Monday came and went, but no Henry Little. Jael began to fret and sigh ; and, after two more blank weeks, she could bear the mystery no longer. " If you please, Miss," said she, " shall I go to that place where he works ?" " Where who works ?" inquired Grace, rather disingenuously. " Why, the dark young man, Miss," said Jael, blushing deeply. Grace reflected, and curiosity struggled with discretion ; but discretion got the better, being aided by self-respect. "No, Jael," said she; " he is charming, when he is here ; but, when he gets away, he is not always so civil as he might be. I had to go twice after him. I shall not go nor send a third time. It really is too bad of him." . a Dear heart," pleaded Jael, " mayhap he is not well." "Then he ought to write and say so. No, no ; he is a radical, and full of conceit : and he has done this one eyebrow, and then gone off laugh- ing and saying, 'Now let us see if the gentry can do the other amongst them.' If he doesn t come soon, I'll do the other eyebrow myself." "Mayhap he will never come again," said Jael. " Oh, yes, he will," said Grace mighty cun- ningly ; " he is as fond of coming here as we are of having him. Not that I'm at all surprised ; for the fact is, you are very pretty, extremely pret- ty, abominably pretty." " I might pass in Cairnhope town," said Jael, modestly, "but not here. The moon goes for nought when the sun is there. He don't come here for me." This sudden elegance of language, and Jael's tone of dignified despondency, silenced Grace, somehow, and made her thoughtful. She avoid- ed the subject for several days. Indeed, when Saturday came, not a word was said about the de- faulter : it was only by her sending for Jael to sit with her, and by certain looks, and occasional restlessness, she betrayed the slightest curiosity or expectation. Jael sat and sewed, and often looked quickly up at the window, as some footstep passed, and then looked down again and sighed. Young Little never came. He seemed to have disappeared from both their lives ; quietly disap- peared. M Next day, Sunday, Jael came to Miss Carden, after morning church, and said, 'meekly, "If you please, Miss, may I go home ?" " Oh, certainly," said Grace, a little haughtily. "What for?" Jael hung her head, and said she was not used to belong away. Then she lifted her head, and- her great candid eyes, and spoke more frank- ly. "I feel to be drawed home. Something have been at me all the night to that degree as I couldn't close my eyes. I could almost feel it, like a child's hand, a pulling me East. I'm afeard father's ill, or maybe the calves are bleat- ing for me, that is better acquaint with them than sister Patty is. i^ad Hillsborough air don't seem to 'gree with me^ow not altogether as it did at first. If you please, Miss, to let me go ; and then I'll come back when I'm better com- pany than I be now. Oh dear I oh dear !" "Why, Jael, mv poor girl, what is the mat- ter ?" 4 * I don't know, Miss. But I feel very unked. " " Are you not happy with me ?" " Tis no fault of yourn, Miss," said Jael, rus- tic, but womanly. "Then you are not happy here." No reply, but two clear eyes began to fill to the very brim. Qrace coaxed her-, and said, " Speak to me like a friend. You know, after all, youlffe not my servant \ I can't possibly part with you altogether ; I have gi»t to tike you so : but, of course, you shall go home for a^ittle while, if you wish it very, very much." " Indeed I do, Miss," said Jael. " Pleasefor- give me, but my heart feels like lead in my bosom. " And, with these words,' the big tears ran over, and chased one another down her cheeks. :*SB *>9 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. Then Grace, who was very kind-hearted, beg- ged her, in a very tearful voice, not to cry : she should go home for a week, a fortnight, a month even. " There, there, you shall go to-morrow, poor thing. " Now it is a curious fact, and looks like animal magnetism or something, but the farmhouse, to which Jael had felt so mysteriously drawn all night, contained, at that moment, besides its usual inmates, one Henry Little : and how he came there is an important part of this tale, which I must deal with at once. While Henry was still visiting Woodbine Villa, as related above, events of a very different charac- ter from those soft scenes were taking place at the works. His liberal offer to the Edge-Tool Forgers had been made about a week, when, coming back one day from dinner to his forge, he found the smoky wall written upon with chalk, in large let- ters, neatly executed — " Why overlook the Handlers ? "MARY." He was not alarmed this time, but vexed. He went and complained to Bayne ; and that worthy came directly and contemplated the writing, in silence, for about a minute. Then he gave a weary sigh, and said, with doleful resignation, 44 Take the chalk, and write. There it is." Henry took the chalk, and prepared to write Bayne's mind underneath Mary's. Bayne dictat- ed: "/ have offered the Handlers the same as the Forgers" 44 But that is not true," objected Henry, turn- ing round, with the chalk in his hand. 44 It will be true, in half an hour. We are going to Parkin, the Handlers' Secretary." 44 What, another £15 ! This is an infernal swindle." 44 What isn't ?" said Bayne, cynically. Henry then wrote as desired ; and they went together to Mr. Parkin. Mr. Parkin was not at home. But they hunt- ed him from pillar to post^nd caught him, at last, in the bar-parlor of 44 fte Pack-saddle." He knew Bayne well, and received him kindly, and, on his asking for a private interview, gave a wink to two persons who were with him : they got up directly, and went out. 44 What, is there anything amiss between you and the trade ?" inquired Mr. Parkin, with an air of friendly interest. Bayne smiled, not graciously, but sourly. 44 Come, come, sir, that is a farce you and I have worn out this ten years. This is the Lon- don workman himself, come to excuse himself to Mary and Co., for not applying to them before: and the long and the short is, he offers the Han- dlers the same as he has the Smiths, fifteen down, and to pay his natty money, but draw no scale, unless disabled. What d'ye* say ? Yes, or no ?" 44 I'll lay Mr. Little's propoil before the com- mittee." 4 4 Thank you, sir, " said Little. * 4 And, mean- time, I suppose I may feel safe against violence, from the members of your union?" 44 Violence!" said Mr. Parkin, turning his eye inwards, as if he was interrogating the centuries. Then to Mr. Bayne, 44 Pray, sir, do yon remem- ber anv deed of darkness that our union have ever committed, since we have been together; and that is twelve years ?" 44 Well, Mr. Parkin, "said Bayne, 44 if you mean deeds of blood, and deeds of gunpowder? et cetera — why, no, not one : and it is greatly to your honor. But, mind you, if a master wants his tanks tapped and his hardening-liquor run into the shore, or his bellows to be ripped, his axle-nuts to vanish, his wheel-bands to go and hide in a drain or a church belfry, and his scythe-blades to dive into a wheel-dam, he has only to be wrong: with your union, and he'll be accommodated as above. I speak from experience." 44 Oh, rattening!" said Mr. Parkin. 44 Thatis a mighty small matter." 44 It is small to you, that are not in the.oven, where the bread is baked, or cooled, or burnt. But whateTger parts the grindstones from the power, and the bellows from the air, and the air from the fire, makes a hole in the master's busi- ness to-day, and a hole in the workman's pocket that day six months. So, for Heaven's sake, let us be right with you. Little's is the most friend- ly and liberal offer that any workman ever made to any Union. Do, pray, close with it, and let us be at peace ; sweet — balmy — peace." Parkin declared he shared that desire : but was not the committee. Then, to Henry : ' 4 1 shall put your case as favorably as my conscience will let me. Meantime, of course, the matter rests as it is." They then parted ; and Henry, as he returned home, thanked Bayne heartily. He said this sec- ond .£15 had been a bitter pill at first ; but now he was glad he had offered it. 44 I would not leave Hillsborough for fifteen hundred pounds." Two days after this promising interview with Mr. Parkin, Henry received a note, the envelop of which showed him it came from Mr. Job- son. He opened it eagerly, and with a good hope that its object was to tell him he was now a mem- ber of the Edge-Tool Forgers' Union. The letter, however, ran thus : 44 Dear Sir, — I hear, with considerable sur- prise, that you continue to forge blades and make handles for Mr. Cheetham. On receipt of this information I went immediately to Mr. Parkin, and he assured me that he came to the same terms with you as I did. He says he intimated politely, but plainly, that he should expect you not to make any more carving-tool handles for Mr. Cheetham, till his committee had received your proposal. He now joins me in advising you to strike work for the present. Hillsborough is sur- rounded by beautiful scenes, which it might gratify an educated workman to inspect, during the unavoidable delay caused by the new and very important questions your case has raised. 44 Yours obediently, Saml. Jobson. 44 P. S. — A respectable workman was with me yesterday, and objected that you receive from Mr. Cheetham a higher payment than the list price. Can you furnish me with a reply to this, as it is sure to be urged at the trade meeting." When he read this, Little's blood boiled, espe- cially at the cool advice to lay down his livelihood, and take up scenery : and he dashed off a letter PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 23 of defiance. He showed it to Bayne, and it went into the fire directly. "That is all right," said this worthy. " You have written your mind, like si man. Now sit down, and give them treacle for their honey— or you'll catch pepper." Henry groaned, and writhed, but obeyed. He had written his defiance in three minutes. It took him an hour to produce the following : "Dear Sir, — I am sorry for the misunder- standing. I did not, for a moment, attach that meaning to any thing that fell either from you or Mr. Parkin. " I must now remind you that, were I to strike, work entirely, Mr. Cheetham could discharge me, and even punish me, for breach of contract. All I can do is to work fewer hours than I have done : and I am sure you will be satisfied with that, if you consider that the delay in the settlement of this matter rests with you, and not with ine. 44 1 am yours respectfully, "Henry Little. 44 1 furnish you, as requested, with two replies to the objection of a respectable workman that I am paid above the list price. 44 1. — To sell skilled labor below the statement price, is a just offense, and injury to trade. But to obtain above the statement price is to benefit trade. The high price, that stands alone to-day, will not stand alone forever. It gets quoted in bargains, and draws prices up to it. That has been proved a thousand times. 44 2. — It is not under any master's skin to pay a man more than he is worth. If I get a high price, it is because I make a first-rate article. If a man has got superior knowledge, he is not go- ing to give it away to gratify envious Ignorance." To this, in due course, he received from Job- son the following : 44 Dear Sir, — I advised you according to my judgment and experience: but, doubtless, you are the best judge of your own affairs." And that closed the correspondence with the Secretaries' The gentle Jobson and the polite Parkin had retired from the correspondence with their air of mild regret and placid resignation just three days, when young Little found a dirty crumpled letter on his anvil, written in pencil. It ran thus : 44 Turn up or youl wish you had d roped it. Youl be made so as voul never do hands turn agin, an never know what hurt you. (Signed) "Moonraker." Henry swore. When he had sworn, (and, as a Briton, I think he had denied himself that satisfaction long enough,) he caught up a strip of steel with his pincers, shoved it into the coals, heated it, and, in half a minute, forged two long steel nails. He then nailed this letter to his wall, and wrote un- der it in chalk, 44 1 offer £10 reward to any one who will show me the coward who wrote this, but was afraid to sign it. The writing is pecu- liar, and can easily be identified." He also took the knife that had been so ostenta- tiously fixed in his door, and canied it about him night and day, with a firm resolve to use it in self-defense, if necessarv. And now the plot thickened : the decent work- men in Cheetham's works were passive ; they said nothing offensive, but had no longer the inclina- tion, even if they had the power, to interfere and restrain the lower workmen from venting their envy and malice. Scarcely a day passed without growls and scowls. But Little went his way haughtily, and affected not to see, nor hear them. However, one day, at dinner-time, he happen- ed, unluckily, to be detained by Bayne in the yard, when the men came out ; andwo or three of the roughs took this opportunity and began on him at once, in the Dash Dialect, of course; they knew, no other. A great burly forger, whose red matted hair was powdered with coal-dust, and his face bloated with habitual intemperance, planted himself in- solently before Henry, and said, in a very loud voice, "How marly more trade meetings are we to have for one knobstick ?" Henry replied, in a moment, " Is it my fault if your shilly-shallying committees cant say yes or no to £15. You'd sav ves to it, wouldn't vou, sooner than go to bed sober ?" This sally raised a loud laugh at the notorious drunkard's expense, and checked the storm, as a laugh generally does. But men were gathering round, and a workman who had heard the raised voices, and divined the row, ran out of the works, with his apron full of blades, and his heart full of mischief. It was a grinder of a certain low type, peculiar to Hills- borough, but quite common there, where grinders are often the grandchildren of grinders. This de- generate face was more canine than human ; sharp as a hatchet, and with forehead villainously low ; hardly any chin ; and — most characteristic trait of all — the eyes, pale in color, and tiny in size, ap- peared to have come close together, to consult, and then to have run back into the very skull, to get away from the sparks, which their owner, and his sire, and his grandsire, had been eternally crea- ting. • This greyhound of a grinder flung down a lot of dull bluish blades, warm from the forge, upon a condemned grindstone that was lying in the ya"rd ; and they tinkled. 44 me, if I grind cockney blades !" said he. This challenge fired a sympathetic handle- maker. " Grinders are right," said he. "We must be a mean lot and all, to handle his work. " ** He has been warned enough ; but he heeds noane." 44 Hustle him out o' works." 44 Nay, hit him o'er th' head and fling him into shore." With these menacing words, three or four roughs advanced on him, with wicked eyes ; and the respectable workmen stood, like stone statues, in cold and terrible neutrality ; and Henry, look- ing round, in great anxiety, found that Bayne had withdrawn. # He ground his teeth, and stepped back to\the wall, to have all the assailants in the front. He was sternly resolute, though very pale, and, by a natural impulse, rat his hand into his side-pocket, to feel if he had a weapon. The knife was there, the deadly blade with which his enemies them- selves had armed him ; and, to those who could r 24 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. read faces, there was death in the pale cheek and gleaming eye of this young man, so sorely tried. At this moment, a burly gentleman walked into the midst of them, as smartly as Van Amburgh amongst his tigers, and said steadily, '* What is to do now, lads?" It was Cheetham himself. Bayne knew he was in the office, and had run for him, in mortal terror, and sent him to keep the peace. "They insult me, sir," said Henry; "though I am always civil to them; and that grinder refuses to grind my blades, there." " Is that so ? Step out, my lad. Did you re- fuse to gri4l those blades ?" '* Ay," said the greyhound-man, sullenly. 44 Then put on your coat, and leave my prem- ises this minute." ** He is entitled to a week's warning, Mr. Cheet- ham," said one of the decent workmen, respect- fully, but resolutely ; speaking now for the first time. "You are mistaken, sir," replied Mr. Cheet- ham, in exactly the same tone. (No stranger could have divined the speakers were master and man.) " He has vitiated his contract by public- ly refusing to do his work. Hell get nothing from me but his wages up to noon this day. But you can have a week's warning, if you want it." " Nay, sir. I've nought against you, for my part. But they say it will come to that, if you don't turn Little up." 44 Why, what's his fault ? Come now ; you are a man. Speak up. " " Nay, I've no quarrel with the man. But he isn't straight with the trade." " That is the secretaries' fault, not mine," said Henry. "They can't see I've brought a new trade in, that hurts no old trade, and will spread, and bring money into the town." "We are not so soft as swallow that," said the bloated smith. "Thou's just come t' Hillsborough to leam forging, and when thou'st mastered that, off to London, and take thy trade with thee." Henry colored to the brow at the inferior work- man's vanity a#i its concomitant, detraction. But he governed himself, by a mighty effort, and said, * 4 Oh, that's your grievance now, is it ? Mr. Cheetham — sir — will you ask some respectable grinder to examine these blades of mine ?" " Certainly. You are right, Little. The man to judge a forger's work is a grinder, and not an- other forger. Reynolds, just take a look at them, will ye ?" A wet grinder of a thoroughly different type and race from the greyhound, stepped forward. He was thick-set in body, fresh-colored, and of a square manly countenance. He examined the blades carefully, and with great interest. " Well," said Henry, "were they forged by a smith, or a novice that is come here to learn an- vU work ?" Reynolds did not reply to him, nor to Mr. Cheetham : he turned to the men. " Mates, I'm noane good at lying. Hand that forged these has nought to learn in Hillsbro', nflfcany other shop." *' Thank you, Mr. Reynolds," said Henry, in a choking voice. * * That is the first gleam of jus- tice that I — " He could say no more. "Come, don't you turn soft for a word or two," said Cheetham. " You'll wear all this out in time. Go to the office. I have something to say to you." The something was said. It amounted to this — " Stand by me, and I'll stand bv you." "Well, sir," said Henry, "I think I must leave you if the committees refuse my offer. It is hard for one man to fight a couple of trades in such a place as this. But I'm firm in one thing : until those that govern the unions say 4 no ' to my offer, I shall go on working, and the scum of the trades sha'n't frighten me awav from my forge." " That's right ; let the blackguards bluster. Bayne tells me you have had another anony- mous. " "Yes, sir." 44 Well, look here : yon must take care of yourself, outside the works; but I'll take care of you inside. Here, Bayne, write a notice that, if any man molests, intimidates, or affronts Mr. Little, in my works, I'll take him myself to the town-hall, and get him two months direct- ly. Have somebody at the gate to put a printed copy of that into every man's hand as he leaves." 4 'Thank you, sir!" said Henry, warmly. 44 But ought not the police to afford me protec- tion, outside?" 44 The police ! You might as well go to the beadle. No ; change your lodging, if you think they know it. Don't let them track you home. Buy a brace of pistols, and, if they catch you in a dark place, and try to do you, give them a barrel or two before they can strike a blow. Not one of them will ever tell the police, not if you shot his own brother dead at that game. The law is a dead letter here, sir. You've noth- ing to expect from it, and nothing to fear. " 44 Good heavens ! Am I in England ?" 44 In England? No. You are in Hillsbor- ough." This epigram put Cheetham in good humor with himself, and, when Henry told him he did not feel quite safe, even in his own forge, nor in his handling-room, and gave his reasons, " Oh," said cheerful Cheetham, " that is nothing. Yours is a box-lock ; the blackguard will have hid in the works at night, and taken the lock off, left his writing, and then screwed the lock on again : that is nothing to any Hillsborough hand. But I'll soon stop that game. Go you to Chestnut street, and get two first-class Bramah locks. There's a pocket-knife forge up stairs, close to your handling-room. I'll send the pocket-knife hand down stairs, and you fasten the Bramah locks on both doors, and keep the keys yourself. See to that now at once : then your mind will be easy. And I shall be in the works all day now, and every day ; come to me directly, if there is any thing fresh." Henry's forge was cold, by this time ; so he struck work, and spent the afternoon in secur- ing his two rooms with the Bramah locks. He also took Cheetham's advice in another particu- lar. Instead of walking home, he took a cab, and got the man to drive rapidly to a certain alley. There he left the cab, ran down the alley, and turned a corner, and went home round about. He doubled like a hare, and dodged like a criminal evading justice. But the next morning he felt a pleasing sense of security when he opened his forge-room with the Bramah key, and found no letters nor threats of any kind had been able to penetrate. Moreover, all this time you will understand he - V PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 25 was visiting " Woodbine Cottage " twice a week, and caning Grace Carden's bust. Those detightful hours did much to compen- sate him for his troubles in the town, and were even of some service to him in training him to fence with the trades of Hillsborough: for at " Woodbine Villa " he had to keep an ardent passion within the strict bounds of reverence, and in the town he had constantly to curb another passion, wrath, and keep it within the bounds of prudence. These were kindred exercises of self- restraint, and taught him self-government beyond his years. But what he benefited most by, after all, was the direct and calming effect upon his agitated heart, and irritated nerves, that prece- ded, and accompanied, and followed these sweet, tranquilizing visits. They were soft, solacing, and soothing ; they were periodical and certain. He could count on leaving his cares, and worries, twice every week, at the door of that dear villa ; and, when he took them up again, they were no longer the same ; heavenly balm had been shed over them, and over his boiling blood. One Saturday he heard, by a side-wind, that the Unions at a general meeting had debated his case, and there had been some violent speeches, and no decision come to ; but the majority ad- verse to him. This discouraged him sadly, and his yearning heart turned all the more towards his haven of rest, and the hours, few but blissful, that awaited him. ^ About 1 1 o'clock, that same day, the postman brought him a letter, so vilely addressed, that it had been taken to two or three places, on specu- lation, before it reached its destination. Little saw at once it was another anonymous communication. But he was getting callous to these missives, and he even took it with a cer- tain degree of satisfaction. "Well done, Bra- mah ! Obliged to send their venom by post now. " This was the feeling uppermost in his mind. In short, he opened the letter with as much con- tempt as anger. But he had no sooner read the foul scrawl, than his heart died within him. * * Thou's sharp but not sharp enow. We know where thou goes courting up hill. Window is all glass and ripe for a Peter shall blow the house tatums. There's the stuff in Hillsbro and the men that have done others so, and will do her job as wells thine. Powders a good servant but a bad master. 44 One who means doing what he says." At this diabolical threat, young Little leaned sick and broken over the handle of his bellows. Then he got up, and went to Mr. Cheetham, and said, patiently, "{Sir, I am sorry to say I must leave you this very day." " Don't say that, Little, don't say that." " Oh, it is with a heavy heart, sir ; and I shall always remember your kindness. But a man knows when he is beat. And I'm beat now." He hung his head in silence awhile. Then he said, in a faint voice, " This is what has done it, sir," and handed him the letter. Mr. Cheetham examined it, and said, " I am not surprised at your being taken aback by this. But it's nothing new to us ; we have all been threatened in this form. Why, the very last time I fought the trades, my wife was threatened I should be brought home on a shutter, with my , intestines sweeping the ground. That was the purport, only it was put vernacular and stronger. And they reminded me that the old gal's clothes (that is Mrs. Cheetham : she is only twenty- six, and the prettiest lass in Coventry, and has a row of ivories that would do your heart good : now these Hillsborough hags haven't got a set of front teeth among 'em, young or old). Well, they told me the old gal's clothes could easily be spoiled, and her doll's face and all, with a penn'orth of vitriol." "The monsters!" * ' But it was all brag. These things are threat- ened fifty times, for once they are done." "I shall not risk it. My own skin, if you like. But not hers : never, Mr. Cheetham : oh, never; never!" " Well, but," said Mr. Cheetham, " she is in no danger so long as you keep away from her. They might fling one of their petards in at the window, if you were there ; but otherwise, never, in this world. No, no, Little, they are not so bad as that. They have blown up a whole house- hold, to get at the obnoxious party ; but they al- ways make sure he is there first." Bayne was appealed to, and confirmed this; and, with great difficulty, they prevailed on Lit- tle to remain with them, until the Unions should decide ; and to discontinue his visits to the house on the hill in the mean time. I need hardly say they had no idea the house on the hill was 4 ' Wood- bine Villa." He left them, and, sick at heart, turned away from Heath Hill, and strolled out of the lower part of the town, and wandered almost at random, and sad as death. He soon left the main road, and crossed a stile : it took him by the side of a babbling brook, and at the edge of a picturesque wood. Ever and anon he came to a water-wheel, and above fhe water-wheel a dam made originally «by art, but now looking like a sweet little lake. They were beautiful places ; the wheels and their attendant works were old and rugged, but picturesque and countrified ; and the little lakes behind, fringed by the master-grinder's garden, were strangely peaceful and pretty. Here the vulgar labor of the grindstone was made beautiful and incredibly poetic. "Ah!" thought poor Little, "how happy a workman must be that plies his trade here in the fresh air. And how unfortunate I am to be tied to a power- wheel, in that filthy town, instead of being here, where Nature turns the wheel, and the birds chirp at hand, and the scene and the air are all purity and peace." One place of the kind was particularly charm- ing. The dam was larger than most, and sloping grass on one side, cropped short by the grinder's sheep : on the other his strip of garden : and bushes and flowers hung over the edge and glass- ed themselves in the clear water. Below the wheel, and at one side, was the master, finder's cottage, covered with creepers. « But Henry's mind was in no state to enjoj T these beauties. He envied them ; and, at last, they oppressed him, and he turned his back on them, and wandered, disconsolate, home. -« He sat down on a stool by his mother, and laid his beating temples on her knees. "What is it, my darling ?" said she softly. 26 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. (t Well, mother, for one thing, the Unions are never be brought home to her bruised or bleed- against me, and I see I shall have to leave Hills- ing. No : if the Unions rejected his offer he borough, soon or late. ''Never mind, dear; happiness does not de- pend upon the place we live in : and oh, Henry, would go back to London with her at once. And so, thrus* from Hillsborough by the trades, and by his fears for Miss Garden, and also drawn whatever you do, never quarrel with those terri- ' from it by his mother's terrors, he felt himself a ble grinders and people. The world is wide. I feather on the stream of Destiny ; and left oft' Let us go back to London ; the sooner the better. I struggling: beaten, heart-sick, and benumbed, he I have long seen there was something worrying let the current carry him like any other dead thing yon. But Saturday and Monday — they used to l that drifts, be your bright days. " He still plied the hammer, but in a dead-alive " It will come to that, I suppose," said Henry, way. evading her last observation. "Yes," said he, ( He wrote a few cold lines to Mr. Jobson, to say wearily, *' it will come to that." And he sighed so that he thought it was time for a plain answer to piteously that she forbore to press him. She had be given to a business proposal. But, as he had not the heart to cross-examine her suffering child, no great hope the reply would be favorable, he That evening, mother and son sat silent by awaited it in a state bordering on apathy. And the fire : Henry had his own sad and bitter thoughts ; and Mrs. Little was now brooding over the words Henry had spoken in the after- so passed a miserable week. And all this time she, for whose sake he de- nied himself the joy and consolation of her com- noon ; and presently her maternal anxieties found pany, though his heart ached and pined for it, a copious vent. She related to him, one after had hard thoughts of him, and vented them too another, all the outrages that had been perpetra- to Jael Dence. ted in Hillsborough, while he was a child, and had been, each in its turn, the town talk. It was a subject on which, if her son had been The young are so hasty in all their judgments. While matters were in this condition, Henrv found, one morning, two fresh panes of glass bro- older, and more experienced in her sex, he would j ken in his window. have closed her mouth promptly, she being a j In these hardware works the windows seldom woman whose own nerves had received so fright- j or never open : air is procured in all the rooms fid a shock by the manner of her husband's death, by the primitive method of breaking a pane here But, inadvertently, he let her run on, till she told and a pane there ; and the Jwieral effect is as un- him how a poor grinder had been carried home j sightly as a human mouth where teeth and holes to his wife, blinded and scorched with gunpowder, | alternate. The incident therefore was nothing, and another had been taken home, all bleeding, to his mother, so beaten and bruised with life- preservers, that he had lain between life and death for nine days, and never uttered one word all that time, in reply to all her prayers and tears. Now Mrs. Little began these horrible narra- if it had occurred in anv other room ; but it was not a thing to pass over in this room, secured by a Bramah lock, the key of which was in Henrys pocket : the panes must have been broken from the outside. It occurred to him directly that a stone had been thrown in with another threaten- tives with a forced and unnatural calmness ; but, ing scrawl. by the time she got to the last, she had worked But, casting his eye all round, he saw nothing herself up \m a paroxysm of sympathy with other ! of the kind about. wretched women in Hillsborough, and trembled Then, for a moment, a graver suspicion crossed all over, like one in an ague, for herself: and at his mind : might not some detonating substance, last stretched out her shaking hands, and scream- of a nature to explode when trodden upon, have edtohim, "Oh, Harry, Harry, have pity on your been flung in? Hillsborough excelled in devil- miserable mother! Think what these eyes of tries of this kind. mine have seen — bleeding at my feet — there — j Henry thought of his mother, and would not there — I see it now " — (her eyes dilated terri- treat the matter lightly or unsuspiciously. He bly at the word) — "oh, promise me, for pity's stood still till he had lighted a lucifer match, and sake, that these — same — eyes — shall never see yon examined the floor of his room. Nothing, brought and laid down bleeding like him /" With j He lighted a candle, and examined all the this she went into violent hysterics, and frightened premises. Nothing. her son more than all the ruffians in the town had j But, when he brought his candle to the win- ever frightened him. | dow, he made a discovery : the window had two She was a long time in this pitiable condition, I vertical iron uprights, about three-quarters of an and he nursed her : but at last her convulsion inch in circumference : and one of these revealed ceased, and her head rested on* her son's shoulder to his quick eye a bright horizontal line. It had in a pitiable languor. j been sawed with a fine saw. Henry was always a good son : but he never I Apparently an attempt had been made to enter loved his mother so tenderly as he did this night, his room from outside. His heart yearned over this poor panting soul, so I The next question was, had that attempt suc- stately in form, yet so weak, so womanly, and ceeded. lovable ; his playmate in childhood, his sweet He tried the bar ; it was not quite cut through, preceptor in boyhood ; the best friend and most ! He locked the forge up directly, and went to unselfish lover he had, or could ever hope to have, his handling room. There he remained till Mr. on earth-; dear to him by her long life of loving Cheetham entered the works ; then he went to sacrifice, and sacred by that their great calamity, him, and begged him to visit his forge, •which had fallen so much heavier on her than on Mr. Cheetham came directly, and examined him. the place carefully. He soothed her, he fondled her, he kneeled at He negatived, at once, the notion that am- ber feet, and promised her most faithfully he would Hillsborough hand had been unable to saw PUT YOURSELF IS HIS PLACE. through a bar of that moderate thickness. " Nt sniil lie, " they were disturbed, or else some ot «r idea struck them nil of a 'sudden ; or else th hadn't given themselves time, and are again to-morrow. I hope they are. By six o'clock to-night, nihuve ucommonwoudim shat- ter lumg with six ;:ond hinges on each side. eas\ [n open at the centre: only, across the centre, I'll fix a Waterloo cracker inside.*' "A Waterloo cracker!" ■'Ay. but such n. one as yon never saiv. ] —I l l l J 1 make it. myself. It shall lie only lourinch- e» long, hat us broad its my hand, mid Irtonnting powder in it to Wow tin: shuttri- fit'i feet in r 1 1 the air : and if [here slimdd lie one of Ji .::-■■ m'- lads hi'liiuil [lie si i alter "t I lie lime, why he'll learn living, and nought to pay tor wings." ■'Whv, sir, vou are planning the man's death!"' ' 'And what is he planning 7 Light your forge, ami leave the job to mo. I'm Hillsliaro;:;.;h too : and ihev've put ira l.lood up at hist." While Henry lighted Ins forge, Mr. Cheetlium whipped on: a nile, and measiucit the window ex- actly. This done, lie went down the stairs, and i tossed the yard to go to his office. lint, oefoie lie could ealer it. a. horrible tlrng occurred in die toon, lie hudju=t left ; mo horrible, like a woman. % Some miscreant, by a simple but ingenious means, which aflcrwHrus transpired, had mixed a i[tiinitity of gain-owner wiili ihe suiithv-slack in- line cinders of Henry's forge. The moment the fnrae was hut, tin 1 powder igiu'ed with a tremen- dous thud, a huge mass of llame rn.died out. driving the cuds with it. like shut from a gun ; Henry, scorched, blackened, nod Minded, was swepl. as by a llnmiug wind, ugniusl the opposite wad: i hen. yelling ami stark mad will] fright (for noth- ing 1.3 1 ■ i h :■:■ men oui of I heir wit- like .nn explo.-iuii in a narrow space), lie sprang at the window, head foivninst. nnd with such velocity that the sawed iron snapped like a stick of hailcy-'uigai-. and oik. he Weill head foreuinst : and this it was niaile Cheelham -cream, to see him head down- ward, and the pnviug-stones below. But the aperture was narrow: his liody Hew tliroiurh. hut his riirlii U'ui went round tin: un- lirokci: uprighl, and caught it in the bend of Ihe 'elbow. Then Chectham roared, "Hold on. Little! Hold on. I tell youl" The scared htnin of a man uceosti .ratal to obey received i!ie c, an mam I annus; without the mind : and the grinders and forgers, running wildly into the yard, saw tl.e obnoxious workman, black as a cinder from head io foot, bleeding at the face from broken glass, hanging up there by one hand, moaning with terror, and looking down with di- lating eye. while thick nhiie Minike rushed carl ing out. as if liis body was burning. Death hy sudoral inn whs at his buck, and broke:) boik-s awaited him below. At sight of thl.. haioan < inder, hanging hy one baud between two deaths, every sentiment bat humanity vani-hed from the r;:ggedest bosom. their unpopular comrade with admiral, le .aiick- ness and judgment: two new wheel-bimils, that had just come inlo ihe works, were caught no in a moment, and four workmen run with them and got below the suspended ligure : t bey then turned back io back. and. petting the bauds over their shoulders, pulled hard againsi eaeii other, This was necessary lo straighten the hands; they weighed halt a hundred weight each. Cithers srood at the cent re of i he bunds, ami u ire ted kil- tie where to drop, and stood ready to catch him should he hound or)' them. But now nuitieis look an unexpected rem. Little, to all ap|ieufiince, was blind and deaf. He hung there, moaning, and flaring, ami his one sinewy arm -importer! bbnaisi alar btii.ligflt frame almost h, credibly. He was out of his senses, or nearly. "Let thyself come, hid," cried a workman, " we are all right to catch thee." He made no answer, but hung there glaring and moaning. ''The man will drop noaue, till he i-wotms." said another, watching him keenly. "Then ge: ion closer I" the wall, men, "cried C'heerham, in great anxiety. " He'll come like a stone, when' he does come." This injunction was given none too soon ; the men had hardly -liil'led lin'ir positions, when Lilt-e- Inoid ojien- ed, and he came down iike icam with his hands idl abroad, and his body straight ; bin his knee- v. ere -lightly hem. and he eaught ihe ha mis just below the knee, and bounded off them into the air, like ucrickel-ball. But many hands grubbed at him, and the grinder Reynolds caught him hf Ihe shoulder, and they rolled on the ground to- gether, very little the worse for that tumble. " Well done! well done!" cried Cheetbam, " Let him lie. lads, he is best there for a while ; and run for a doctor, one of you." ■' Ay, run for Jack Doublcface." cried several 28 PUT YOURSELF 1$ HIS PLACE. 44 Now, make a circle, and give him air, men." Then thev all stood in a circle, and eyed the blackened and quivering figure with pity and sym- pathy, while the canopy of white smoke bellied overhead. Nor were those humane sentiments silent ; and the roughs seemed to be even more overcome than the others : no brains were re- quired to pity this poor fellow now ; and so strong an appeal to their hearts, through their senses, roused their good impulses and rare sensibilities. Oh, it was strange to hear good and kindly sen- timents come out in the Dash dialect. 44 It's a shame!" "There lies a good workman done for by some thief, that wasn't fit to blow his bel- lows, him!" (< Say he was a cockney, he was always civil." (< And life's as sweet to him as to any man in Hillsborough." 44 Hold your tongue, he's coming to." Henry did recover his wits enough to speak ; and what do you think was his first w,ord ? He clasped his hands together, and said, — 44 My Mother! Oh, don't let her know!*' This simple cry went through many a rough heart ; a loud gulp or two were heard soon after, and more than one hard and coaly cheek was channelled by sudden tears. But now a burly figure came rolling in ; they drew back and si- lenced each other. — "The Doctor!" This was thft remarkable person they called Jack Double- face. Nature had stuck a philosophic head, with finely-cut features, and a mouth brimful of finesse, on to a corpulent and ungraceful body, that yawed from side to side as he walked. The man of art opened with two words. He looked up at the white cloud, which was now floating away ; sniffed the air, and said, 44 Gun- powder!" Then he looked down at Little, and said, 44 Ah !" half dryly, half sadly. Indeed sev- eral sentences of meaning condensed themselves into that simple interjection. At this moment, some men, whom curiosity had drawn to Henry's forge, came back to say the forge had been blown iq>, and 44 the bellows torn limb from jacket, and the room strewed with ashes. " The doctor jaid a podgy hand on the prisoner's wrist: the touch was fight, though the fingers were thick and heavy. The pulse, which had been very low, was now galloping and bounding frightfully. * 4 Fetch him a glass of brandy-and- water," said Dr. Amboyne. (There were still doctors in Hillsborough, though not in London, who would have had him bled on the spot.) 44 Now, then, a surgeon! Which of you lads operates on the eye, in these works ?" A lanky file-cutter took a step forward. * 4 1 am the one that takes the motes out of their eyes." 44 Then be good enough to show me his eye." The file-cutter put out a hand with fingers pro- digiously long and thin, and deftly parted both Little's eyelids with his finger and thumb, so as to show the whole eye. 44 Hum !" said the Doctor, and shook his head. He then patted the sufferer all over, and the result of that examination was satisfactory^ Then came the brandy-and- water ; and while Henry's teeth were clattering at the glass and he was try- ing to sip the liquid, Dr. AmboyBe suddenly lift- ed his head, and took a keen survey of the coun- tenances round him. He saw the general expres- ] sion of pity on the rugged faces. He also observed one rough fellow who wore a strange wild look : the man seemed puzzled, scared, confused like one half awakened from some hideous dream. This was the grinder who had come into the works in place of the hand Cheetham had discharged for refusing to grind cockney blades. 44 Hum!" said Dr. Amboyne, and appeared to be going into a brown study. But he shook that off, and said briskly, <4 Now, then, what was his crime ? Did he owe some mutual aid society six-and-fourpence ?" 44 That's right," said Reynolds, sullenly, 4< throw every thing on the Union. If we knew who it was, he'd lie by the side of this one in less than a minute, and, happen, not get up again so soon. " A growl of assent confirmed the speaker's words. Cheetham interposed and drew Amboyne aside, and began to tell him who the man was and what the dispute; but Amboyne cut the latter expla- nation short. "What," said he, 44 is this the carver whose work I saw up at Mr. Carden's ?" 44 This is the very man, no doubt." 44 Why, he's a sculptor: Praxiteles in wood. A fine choice they have made for their gunpow- der, a workman that did honor to the town." A faint flush of gratified pride colored the ghastly cheek a moment. 44 Doctor, shall I live to finish the bust ?" said Henry, piteously. £ 44 That and hundreds more, if you obey me. The fact is, Mr. Cheetham, this young man is not hurt, but his nerves have received a severe shock ; and the sooner he is out of this place the better. Ah, there is my brougham at the gate. Come, put him into it, and I'll take him to the infirmary." 44 No," said Little, <4 I won't go there; my mother would hear of it." 44 Oh, then your mother is not to know ?" 44 Not for all the world! She has had trou- ble enough. I'll just wash my face and buy a clean shirt, and she'll never know what has hap- pened. It would kill her. Oh, yes, it would kill her!" The Doctor eyed him with warm approval. 44 You are a fine young fellow. 111 see you safe through this, and help you throw dust in your mother's eyes. If you go to her with that scratched face, we are lost. Come, get into my carriage, and home with me." * 44 Mayn't I wash my face first? And look at my shirt : as black as a cinder." 44 Wash your face, by all means: but you can button your coat over your shirt." The coat was soon brought, and so was a pail of water and a piece of yellow soap. Little dash- ed his head and face into the bucket, and soon inked all the water. The explosion had filled his hair with black dust, and grimed his face and neck like a sweep's. This ablution made him clean, but did not bring back his ruddy color. He looked pale and scratched. The men helped him officiously into the car- riage, though he could have walked very well alone. Henry asked leave to buy a clean shirt. The Doctor said he would lend him one at home. While Henry was putting it on Doctor Amboyne ordered his dog-cart instead of his brougham, and mixed some medicines. And soon Henry found himself seated in the dog-cart, with a warm cloak PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 29 ^ over him, and whisking over the stones of Hills- borough. All this had been done so rapidly and unhesi- tatingly that Henry, injured and shaken as he was, had yielded passive obedience. But now he began to demur a little. "But where are we going, sir ?" he asked. 4 ' To change the air and the scene. Ill be frank with you — you are man enough to bear the truth — you have received a shock that will very likely bring on brain-fever, unless you get some sleep to-night. But you would not sleep in Hillsbor- ough. You'd wake a dozen times in the night, trembling like an aspen leaf, and fancying you were blown up again." * ' Yes, but my mother, sir ! If I don't go home at seven o'clock, she'll find me out." 44 If you went crazy wouldn't she find you out? Come, my young friend, trust to my experience, and to the interest this attempt to murder you, and your narrow escape, have inspired in me. When I have landed you in the Temple of Health, and just wasted a little advice on a pig-headed patient in the neighborhood (he is the squire of the place), I'll drive back to Hillsborough, and tell your mother some story or other: you and I will concoct that together as we go." At this Henry was all obedience, and indeed thanked him, with the tears in his eyes, for his kindness to a poor stronger. Dr. Amboyne smiled. " If you were not a stranger, you would know that saving cutlers' lives is my hobby, and one in which I am steadily re- sisted and defeated, especially by the cutlers themselves ; why, I look upon you as a most con- siderate and obliging young man for indulging me in this way. If you had been a Hillsborough hand, you would insist upon a brain-fever, and a trip to the lunatic asylum, just to vex me, and hinder me of my hobby." Henry stared. This was too eccentric for him to take it all in at once. "What!" said Dr. Amboyne, observing his amazement. " Did you never hear of Dr. Doubleface ?" " No, sir." " Never hear of the corpulent lunatic, who goes about the city, chanting, like a cuckoo, * Put yourself in his place — put yourself in her place — in their place ?' " "No, sir, I never did." "Then such is fame. Well, never mind that just now ; there's a time for every thing. Please observe that ruined house : the ancient family to whom it belongs are a remarkable example of the vicissitude of human affair?!" He then told him the curious ups and downs of that family, which, at two distant periods, had held vast possessions in the county ; but were now represented by the shell of one manor-house, and its dovecote, the size of a modern villa. Next he showed him an obscure battle-field, and told him that story, and who were the parties engaged; and so on. Every mile furnished its legend, and Dr. Am- boyne related them all so graphically that the pa- tient's mind was literally stolen away from him- self. At last, after a rapid drive of eleven miles through the pure invigorating air, they made a sudden turn, and entered a pleasant and singu- larly rural village : they drew up at a rustic farm- house, clad with ivy ; and Dr. Amboyne said, "This is the temple: here you can sleep as safe from gunpowder as a field-marshal born." The former's daughter came out, and beamed pleasure at sight of the doctor : he got down, and told her the case, privately, and gave her precise instructions. She often interrupted the narrative with "Lawkadaisies," and other rural interjec- tions, and simple exclamations of pity. She prom- ised faithful compliance with his orders. He then beckoned Henry in, and said, " This picture of health was a patient of mine once, as you are now ; there's encouragement for you. I put you under her charge. Get a letter written to your mother, and I'll come back for it in half an hour. You had a headache, and were feverish, so you consulted a doctor. He advised immediate rest and change of air, and he drove you at once to this village. Write you that, and leave the rest to me. We doctors are dissembling dogs. We have still something to learn in curing dis- eases ; but at making light of them to the dying, and other branches of amiable mendacity, we are masters." As soon as he was gone, the comely young hostess began on her patient. " Dear heart, sir, was it really you as was blowed up with gun- powder ?" " Indeed it was, and not many hours ago. It seems like a dream." " Well, now, who'd think that, to look at you ? Why, you are none the worse, forbye a scratch or two, and, dear heart, I've seen a young chap bring as bad home, from courting, in these parts ; and wed the lass as marked him — within the year." " Oh, it is not the scratches ; but feel my hand, how it trembles. And it used to be as firm as a rock ; for I never drink." " So it do, I declare. Why, you do tremble all over; and no wonder, poor soul. Come you in this minut, and sit down a bit by the fire, while I go and make the room ready for you." But, as soon as he was seated by the fire, the current began to flow again. "Well, I never liked Hillsborough folk much — poor, mean-vis- aged tykes they be — but now I do hate 'em. What, blow up a decent young man like you, and a well-favored, and hair like jet, and eyes in your head like sloes ! But that's their ground of spite, I wan-ant me ; the nasty, ugly, dirty dogs. Well, you may just snap your fingers at 'em all now. They don't come out so far as this ; and, if they did, stouter men grows in this village than any in Hillsborough : and I've only to hold up my finger, for as little as I be, and they'd all be well ducked in father's horsepond, and then flogged home again with a good cart-whip well laid on. And, anoth- er thing, whatever we do, Squire, he will make it good in law : he is gentle, and we are simple ; but our folk and his has stood by each other this hundred year and more. But, la, I run on so, and you was to write a letter again the doctor came back. Ill fetch you some paper this minut." She brought him writing materials, and stood by him, with this apology, "If 'twas to your sweetheart, I'd be off. But 'tis to your mother. v (With a side glance), * * She have beext-a handsome woman in her day, 111 go bail." " She is as beautiful as ever in my eyes," said Henry*tenderly. "And, oh, heaven! give me the sense to write to her without frightening her." " Then I won't hinder you no more with my chat," said his hostess, with kindly good humor, 30 PUT YOUKSELF IN HIS PLACE. and slipped away up stairs. She lighted a great wood fire in the bedroom, and laid the bed and the blankets all round it, and opened the window, and took the home-spun linen sheets out of a press, and made the room very tidy. Then she went down again, and the moment Henry saw her, he said : " I feel your kindness, Miss, but I don't know your name, nor where in the world I am." His hostess smiled. "That is no secret. I'm Martha Dence — at your service : and this is Cairnhope town." " Cairnhope!" cried Henry, and started back, so that his wooden chair made a loud creak upon the stones of the farmer's kitchen. Martha Dence stared, but said nothing; for almost at that moment the Doctor returned, all in a hurrv, for the letter. Henry begged him to look at it, and see if it would do. The Doctor read it. "Hum!" said he, "it is a very pretty, filial letter, and increases my in- terest in you ; give me your hand : there. Well, it won't do : too shaky. If your mother once sees this, I may talk till doomsday, she'll not be- lieve a word. You must put off writing till to- morrow night. Now give me her address, for I really must get home." " She lives on the second floor, No. 13 Chettle Street." "Her name?" " Sir, if you^ask for the lady that lodges on the second floor, y%fa will be sure to see her. " Doctor Amboyne looked a little surprised, and not very well pleased, at what seemed a want of confidence. But he was a man singularly cau- tious and candid in forming his judgments ; so he forbore all comment, and delivered his final instructions. " Here is a bottle containing only a few drops of faba Ignatii in water. It's an in- nocent medicine, and has sometimes a magical effect in soothing the mind and nerves. A table- spoonful three times a day. • And this is a sedative, which you can take if yon find yourself quite un- able to sleep. But I wouldn't have recourse to it unnecessarily ; for these sedatives are uncertain in their operation ; and, when a man is turned upside down, as you have been, they sometimes excite. Have a faint light in your bedroom. Tie a cord to the bell-rope, and hold it in your hand all night. Fix your mind on that cord, and keep thinking, 4 This is to remind me that I am eleven miles from Hillsborough, in a peaceful village, safe from all harm.' To-morrow, walk up to the top of Cairnhope Peak, and inhale the glorious breeze, and look over four counties. Write to your mother at night, and, meantime, 111 do my best to relieve her anxiety. Good-bye." Memory sometimes acts like an old flint-gun : it hangs fire, yet ends by going off. While Dr. Amboyne was driving home, the swarthy, but handsome, features of the workman he had be- friended seemed to enter his mind more deeply than during the hurry, and he said to himself, "Jet black hair; great black eyes; and olive skin ; they are rare in these parts ; and, some- how, they remind me a little of her. " Then his mind went back, in a moment, over many years, to the days when he was stalwart, but not unwieldy, and loved a dark but peerless beauty, loved her deeply, and told his love, and was esteemed and pitied, but another was beloved. And so sad, yet absorbing, was the retrospect of his love, his sorrow, and her own unhappy lot, that it blotted out of his mind, for a time, the very youth whose features and complexion had launched him into the past. | But the moment his horse's feet rang on the stones, this burly philosopher shook off the past, and set himself to recover lost time. He drove | rapidly to several patients, and, at six o'clock, was at 13 Chettle Street, and asked for the lady I on the second floor. " Yes, sir : she is at home," ' was the reply. " But I don't know ; she lives , very retired. She hasn't received any visits since I they came. However, they rent the whole floor, and the sitting-room fronts you." Dr. Amboyne mounted the. stair and knocked at the door. A soft and mellow voice bade him enter. He went in, and a tall lady in black, with plain linen collar and wristbands, rose to receive him. They confronted each other. Time and trouble had left their trace, but there were the glorious eyes, and jet black hair, and the face, worn and pensive, but still beautiful. It was the woman he had loved, the only one. "Mrs. Little!" said he, in an indescribable tone. "Dr. Amboyne!" For a few moments he forgot the task he had undertaken ; and could only express his astonishment and pleasure at seeing her once more. Then he remembered why lie was there ; and the office he had undertaken so lightly alarmed him now. His first instinct was to gain time. Accord- ingly, he began to chide her gently for having resided in the town and concealed it from him ; then, seeing her confused and uncomfortable at that reproach, and in the mood to be relieved by any change of topic, he glided off, with no little ad- dress, as follows: — "Observe the consequences: here have I been most despotically rusticating a youth who turns out to be your son." " My son ! is there any thing the matter with my son ? Oh, Doctor Amboyne ! " " He must have been out of sorts, you know, or he would not have consulted me," replied the Doctor, affecting candor. "Consult! Why, what has happened? He was quite well when he left me this morning." "I doubt that. He complained of headache, and fever. But I soon found his mind was wor- ried. A misunderstanding with the trades ! I was very much pleased with his face and manner ; any carriage was at the door ; his pulse was high, but there was nothing that country air and quiet will not restore. So I just drove him away, and landed him in a farmhouse." Mrs. Little's brow flushed at this. She was angry. But, in a nature so gentle as hers, anger soon gave way. She turned a glance of tearful and eloquent reproach on Doctor Amboyne. "The first time we have ever been separated since he was born," said she, with a sigh. Dr. Amboyne's preconceived plan broke down that moment. He said, hurriedly, " Take my carriage, and drive to him. Better do that than torment yourself." " Where is he ?" asked the widow, brightening up at the proposal. "At Cairnhope." At this word, Mrs. Little's face betrayed a se- l'L'T YOU1WELF IN HIS PLACE. ;:i : first oonfn-iun, then ustouLsli ■ uent, and nt last a sort oi" MipeiMitioos niiinn. "' At CLiirntidjie '-" slu: sake/ed Lit lust. " My son it Cairnhope ?" " l'ray do not torment yourself wi:h fancies," i; : .!il tin; Doutur. "All tins i.j tin' uj.i ,'st arri- L'lU— the simplest [liiug in the world. I cured in;; win) lie was, (in to him, if yon like. But, iYimklv. as his-physickm, I would rather you did not. Never do it wise thing by halves. Heought to be enlirelv .separatci! from nil liis cares, even f.omvom'sdffwhdjoWoulillessiineofthwi;. for five or sixiiavs. He needs no oilier medicine hut tliat, and the line air of Cairnhope. " Patty Den™ of dipLllii'ihi. when i: decimated the village. She. and Iter f unify are grateful; the ; air of Cain i hope ha- a niaeic ette t on oeopie who live in smoke, and Mnr:hn ami Jael let me send ; them out an invalid now :l ml then to he reinvig- orated. I took this you:];; man there, not know- " Then sotnehody must see him every (lay. nd tgll me. Oh! Doctor Amboyiie, this is tin' -ginning : what will the end be ? I am miser- 32 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. " Your man !" said Mrs. Little, a little haugh- tily. Doctor Amboyne met her glance. "If there was any ground for alarm, should I not go myself every day ?" said he, gravely, and even tenderly. "Forgive me," said the widow, and gave him her hand with a sweet and womanly gesture. The main difficulty was now got over ; and Dr. Amboyne was careful not to say too much, for he knew that his tongue moved among pitfalls. As Dr. Amboyne descended the stairs, the land- lady held a door ajar, and peeped at him, accord- ing. to a custom of such delicate-minded females as can neither restrain their curiosity nor indulge it openly. Dr. Amboyne beckoned to her, and asked for a private interview. This was prompt- ly accorded. 1 ' Would ten guiueas be of any service to you, madam ?" "Eh, dear, that it would, sir. Why, my rent is just coming due." Under these circumstances, the bargain was soon struck. Not a syllable about the explosion at Cheetham's was to reach the second-floor lodger's ears, and no Hillsborough journal was to mount the stairs until the young man's return. If inquired for, they were to be reported all sold out, and a London journal purchased instead. Having secured a keen and watchful ally in this good woman, who, to do her justice, showed a Hearty determination to earn her ten guineas, Dr. Amboyne returned home, his own philosophic pulse beating faster than it had done for some years. He had left Mrs. Little grateful, and, apparent- ly, in good spirits ; but, ere he had been gone an hour, the bare separation from her son overpower- ed her, and a host of vague misgivings tortured her, and she slept but little that night. By noon next day she was thoroughly miserable ; but Dr. Amboyne's man rode up to the door in the after- noon with a cheerful line from Henry. " All right, dear mother. Better already. Let- ter by post. Henry." She detained the man, and made up a packet of things for Caimhope, and gave him five shil- lings to be sure and take them. This was followed by a correspondence, a por- tion of which will suffice to eke out the narrative. " Dearest Mother, — I slept ill last night, and got up aching from head to foot, as if I had been well hided. But they sent me to the top of Cairnhope Peak, and, what with the keen air and the glorious view, I came home and ate like a hog. That pleased Martha Dence, and she kept putting me slices off her own plate, till I had to cry quarter. As soon as I have addressed this letter, I'm off to bed, for it is all I can do not to fall asleep sitting. "lam safe to be all right to-morrow, so pray don't fret. I am, dear mother," etc., etc. "Dearest Mother, -^-1 hope you are not fretting about me. Dr. Amboyne promised to stop all that. But do write, and say you are not fretting and fancying all manner of things at my cutting away so suddenly. It was the Doctor's doing. And, mother, I shall not stay long away from you, for I slept twelve hours at a stretch last night, and now I'm another man. But real- ly, I think the air of that Cairnhope Peak would cure a fellow at his last gasp. "Thank you for the linen, and the brushes, and things. But you are not the sort to forget any thing a fellow might want," etc. n No, my darling son. . Be in no hurry to leave Cairnhope. Of course, love, I was alarm- ed at first ; for I know doctors make the best of every thing ; and then the first parting ! — that is always a sorrowful thing. But, now you are there, I beg you will stay till you are quite re- covered. Your letters are a delight, and one I could not have, and you as well, you know. "Since you are at Cairnhope, — how strange that seems, — pray go and see the old church, where your forefathers are buried. There are curious inscriptions, and some brasses nobody could decipher when I was a girl ; but perhaps you might, you are so clever. Your grandfather's monument is in the chancel : I want vou to see it. Am I getting very old, that my heart turns back to these scenes of my youth ? "P.S.— Who is this Martha Dence?" " Dear Mother, — Martha Dence is the farm- er's daughter I lodge with. She is not so p retty as her sister Jael that is with Miss Carden ; but she is a comely girl, and as good as gold, and be- spoke by the butcher. And her putting slices from her plate to mine is a village custom, I find. " Mother, the people here are wonderfully good and simple. First of all, there's farmer Dence, with his high bald head, like a patriarch of old ; and he sits and beams with benevolence, but does not talk much. But he lets me see I can stay with him six years, if I choose. Then, there's Martha, hospitality itself, and ready to fly at my enemies like a mastiff. She is a little hot in the temper ; feathers up in a moment ; but, at a soft word, they go down again as quick. Then, there's the village blacksmith. I call him * The gentle giant.' He is a tremendous fellow in height, and size, and sinew ; but such a kind, sweet-tem- pered chap. He could knock down an ox, yet he wouldn't harm a fly. I am his idol : I saunter- ed in to his smithy, and forged him one or two knives ; and of course he had never seen the ham- mer used with that nicety ; but instead of hating me, as the bad forgers in Hillsborough do, he reg- ularly worships me, and comes blushing up to the farmhouse after hours, to ask after me and get a word with me. He is the best whistler in the parish, and sometimes we march down the village at night, arm-in-arm, whistling a duet. This charms the natives so that we could take the whole village out at our heels, and put them down in another parish. But the droll thing is, they will not take me for what I am. My gentle giant would say ' Sir ' till I pretended to be affronted ; the women and girls will bob me courtesies, and the men and white-headed boys will take oft* their hats and pull their front hair to me. If a skill- ed workman wants to burst with vanity, let him settle in Cairnhope." [Extract.] " Martha Dence and I have had words, and what do you think it was about ? I happened to let out my opinion of Mr. Kaby. Mother, it was PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 33 like setting a match to a barrel of gunpowder, one side, and been too hasty in judging him. At !She turned as red as fire, and said, 'Who be you all events, I would have you, who are a man, think that speaks against Raby to Dence T for yourself, and not rush kito too harsh a view of " I tried to pacify her, but it was no use. * Don't that unhappy quarrel Dearest, family quarrels speak to me,' said she. * \ thought better of you. ■ are family misfortunes : why should they go down You and I are out.' I bowed before the storm, ' to another generation ? You frighten me, when and, to give her time to cool, I obeyed your wish- you wonder that Nathan and his family (I had es, and walked to Cairnhope old church. What forgotten his name was Dence) are attached to a curious place ! But I could not get in ; and, ; Mr. Raby. Why, with all his faults, my brother on my return, I found Mr. Raby keeps the key. t is a chivalrous, high-minded gentleman; his word Now, you can't do a thing here, or say a word, : is his bond, and he never deserts a friend, how- but what it is known all over the village. So ever humble ; and I have heard our dear father Martha Dence meets me at the door, and says, say that, for many generations, uncommon acts very stiffly, she thought I might have told her I of kindness had passed between that family of wanted to see the old church. I pulled a long, j yeomen and the knights and squires of Raby. penitent face, and said, ' Yes; but, unfortunate- I "And now, dear, I am going to be veiy ibol- ly, I was out of her good books, and had ordere ish. But, if these Dences are as great favorites not to speak to her.' * Nay,' says she, ' life is with him as they were with my father, she could too short for loug quarrels. You are a stranger, easily get you into the house some day, when he is and knew no better.' Then she told me to wait out hunting ; audi do want you to see one thing five minutes while she put on her bonnet, as- she morebeforeyoucojneback from Cairnhope — your calls it. Well, I waited the five-and-forty min- mother's picture. It hangs, or used to hang, in utes, and she put on het bonnet, and so many otto- the great dining-room, nearly opposite the fire- er smart things, that we couldn't possibly walk place. straight up to the old church. We had to go j "I blush at my .childishness, but I should like round by the butcher's shop, and order half a my child to see what his mother was, when she pound of suet ; no less. ' And bring it yourself, brought him into the world, that sad world in this evening,' said I, 'or it might get lost on the which he has been her only joy and consolation, road.' Says the butcher, 'Well, sir, thaf is the j " P.S. — What an idea! Turn that dear old first piece of friendly advice any good Christian church into a factory ! But you are a young has bestowed — ' But I heard no more, owing to man of the day. And a wonderful day it is ; I Martha chasing me out of the shop. I can not quite keep up with it" " To reach the old church we had to pass the old ruffian's door. Martha went in ; I sauntered! "Dear Mother, — I have been there. Mr. on, and she soon came after me, with the key in Raby is a borough magistrate, as well as a coun- her hand. ' But,' said she, ' he told me if my ty justice ; and was in Hillsborough all day to- name hadn't been Dence he wouldn't trust me day. Martha Dence took me to Raby Hall, and with it, though I went on my bended knees.' her name was a passport. When I got to the " We opened the church-door, and I spent an door, I felt as if something pulled me, and said, hour inside, examining and copying inscriptions 'It's an enemy's house; don't go in.' I wish I for you. But, when I came to take up a loose had obeyed the warning ; but I did not brass, to try and decipher it, Martha came scream- | "Well, I have seen your portrait It is love- ing at me, ' Oh, put it down ! put it down ! I ly. It surpasses any woman I ever saw. And pledged my word to Squire you should not touch it must have been your image, for it is very like them brasses.' What could I do, mother ? The you now, only in the bloom of your youth, poor girl was in an agony. This old ruffian has, I "And now, dear mother, having done some- somehow, bewitched her, and her father too, into thing for you, quite against my own judgment, a sort of superstitious devotion that I can't help and my feelings too, please do something for me. respecting, unreasonable as it is. So I dropped Promise me never to mention Mr. Rahy'steame the brass, and took to reflecting. And I give you to me again, by letter, or by word of mouSo ei* my thoughts. ther. He is not a gentleman : he is not a roan ; " What a pity and a shame that a building of he is a mean, spiteful, cowardly cur. 111 keep this size should lie idle ! If it was mine I would out of his way, if I can ; but if he gets in mine, I carefully remove all the monuments, and the dead shall give him a devilish good hiding, then and bones, et cetera, to the new church, and turn this there, and I'll tell him the reason why ; and I will old building into a factory, or a set of granaries, . not tell you, or something useful. It is as great a sin to waste bricks and mortar as it is bread," etc. " My dear Harry, — Your dear sprightly let- tion ; for I see that your health is improving ev- ery day, by your gayety ; and this makes me hap- py, though I can not quite be gay. u Dear mother, I did intend to stay till Satur- day, but, after this, I shall come back to you to- morrow. My own sweet dove of a mammy; who but a beast could hurt or affront you ? ters delight me, arid reconcile me to the separa- ] "So no more letters from your dutiful and . • /»-r .1 a i i . i • • • /*» . • tx »» affectionate son, Harry." Next day young Little took leave of his friends " Your last letter was very amusing, yet, some- in Cairnhope, with a promise to come over some how, it set me thinking, long and sadly ; and some Sunday, and see them all. He borrowed a hook- gentle remarks from Dr. Amboyne (he called yes- ed stick of his devotee, the blacksmith, and walk- terday) have also turned my mind the same way. ed off with his little bundle over his shoulder, in Time has softened the terrible blow that estranged high health and spirits, and^ ripe for any thing, my brother and myself, and I begin to ask my- j Some successful men are so stout-hearted, their self, was my own conduct perfect ? was my broth- minds seem never to flinch. Others are elastic ; er's quite without excuse ? I may have seen but they give way, and appear crushed ; but, let the 3 • 34 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. immediate pressure be removed, they fly back again,, and their enemy finds he has not gained an inch. Henry's was of this sort ; and, as he swung along through the clear brisk air, the world seem- ed his football once more. This same morning Jael Dence was to go to Cairnhope, at her own request. She packed her box, and corded it, and brought it down herself, and put it in the passage, and the carrier was to call for it at one. As for her- self, four miles of omnibus, and the other seven on foot, was child's play to her, whose body was as lusty and active as her heart was tender and cling- ing. She came in to the drawing-room, with her bonnet and shawl on, and the tear in her eye, to bid Miss Carden good-bye. Two male friends would have parted in five minutes ; but this pah* were a wonderful time separating, and still there was always something to say, that kept Grace de- taining, or Jael lingering ; dnd, when she had been going, going, going, for more than half an hour, all of a sudden she cried out, "Oh 1 There he is !" and flushed all over. " Who?" asked Grace, eagerly. " The dark young man. He is at the door now, Miss. — And me going away," she faltered. 44 Well then, why go till he has paid his visit ? Sit down. You needn't take off your bonnet." Miss Carden then settled herself, took up her work, and prepared to receive her preceptor as he deserved, an intention she conveyed to Jael by a glance, just as Henry entered blooming with ex- ercise and the keen air, and looking extremely handsome and happy. His reception was a chilling bow from Miss Carden, and from Jael a cheek blushing with pleasure at the bare sight of him, but an earnest look of mild reproach. It seemed cruel of him to stay away so long, and then come just as she was going. This reception surprised Henry, and disappoint- ed him; however he constrained himself, and said politely, but rather coldly, that some un- pleasant circumstances had kept him away ; but he hoped now to keep his time better. " Oh, pray consult your own convenience en- tirely," said Miss Carden. "Come, when you hawpothing better to do ; that is the understand- ing^ 44 1 should be always coming, at that rate." Grace took no notice. 44 Would you like to see how I look with my one eyebrow ?" said she. 4 4 Jael, please fetch it. '*' While Jael was gone for the bust, Henry took a humbler tone, and in a low voice began to ex- cuse his absence ; and I think he would have told the real truth, if he had been encouraged a little ; but he was met with a cold and withering assur- ance that it was a matter of no consequence. Henry thought this unfair, and, knowing in his own heart it was ungrateful, he rebelled. He bit his lip, sat down as gloomy as the grave, and resumed his work, silent and sullen. As for Jael, she brought in the bust, .and then sat down with her bonnet on, quaking ; for she felt sore that, in such a dismal dearth of conversation, Miss Carden would be certain to turn round very soon, and say, "Well, Jael, you can go now." But this Quaker's meeting was interrupted by a doctor looking in to prescribe for Miss Carden's cold. The said cold was imperceptible to vulgar eyes, but Grace had detected it, and had written to her friend, Dr. Amboyne, to come and make it as imperceptible to herself as to the specta- tor. In rolled the Doctor, and was not a little star- tled at sight of Little. 44 Hallo !" cried he. " What, cured already ? Cairnhope forever!" He then proceeded to feel his pulse instead of Miss Carden's, and inspect his eye, at which Grace Carden stared. 44 What, is he unwell ?" 44 Why, a man does not get blown up with gunpowder without some little disturbance of the system." 44 Blown up with gunpowder! What do you mean?" 44 What, have you not heard about it? Don't you read the newspapers ?" 44 No; never." 4 * Merciful powers! But has he not told you ?" •" No ; he tells us nothing." 44 Then 111 tell you. It is of no use your making faces at me. There is no earthly reason why she should be kept in the dark. These Hillsborough trades want to drive this young man out of the town : why — is too long and in- tricate* for you to follow. He resists this tyranny, gently, but firmly." 44 I'd resist it furiously," said Grace. 44 The consequence is, they wrote him several threatening letters ; and, at last, some caitiff put gunpowder into his forge ; it exploded,' and blew him out of a second-floor window." 44 Oh ! oh !" screamed Grace Carden and Jael ; and by one womanly impulse they both put their hands before their faces, as if to shut out the horrible picture. 44 What is that for ?" said the Doctor. " You see he is all right now. But, I promise you, he cut a very different figure when I saw him di- rectly afterwards ; he was scorched as black as a coal—" 44 Oh, Doctor, don't ; pray don't. Oh, sir, why did you not tell me ?" 44 And his face bleeding," continued the mer- ciless Doctor. 44 Oh dear! oh dear!" And the sweet eyes were turned, all swimming in water, upon Hen- ry, with a look of angelic pity. 44 His nerves were terribly shaken, but there were no bones broken. I said to myself, * He must sleep or go mad, and he will not sleep in the town that has blown him up.' I just drove the patient off to peace and pure air, and con- fided him to one of the best creatures in Eng- land — Martha Dence." , Jael uttered an exclamation of wonder, which drew attention to her and her glowing cheeks. 44 Oh yes, Miss Jael," said'Henry, " I was go- ing to tell you. I have been a fortnight with ydor people, and, if I live a hundred years, I shall never forget their goodness to me. God bless them." 44 'Twas the least they could do," said Jael, softly. 44 What a pity you are going out. I should have liked to talk to you about your fathef, and Martha, and George the blacksmith. Doctor, who would live in a town after Cairnhope ?" Jael's fingers trembled at her bonnet-strings, PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 85 and, turning a look of piteous supplication on Grace, she faltered out, "If you please, Miss, might I stay over to-day ?" " Of course. And then he will tell you all about your people, and that will do just as well as you going to see them ; and better." Off came Jael's bonnet with wonderful celerity. " Get the whole story out of him," said Dr. Amboyne. "It is well worth your attention. As for me, I must go as soon as I have prescribed for you. What is the matter?" " The matter is that there's nothing the mat- ter ; prescribe for that. And that I'm a goose — prescribe for that — and don't read the newspa- pers ; prescribe for that." "Well, then, I prescribe the Hillsborough Liberal. It has drawn a strong picture of this outrage, and shown its teeth to the trades. And, if I might advise a lady of your age and experience, I would say, in future always read the newspapers. They are, compared with books, what machinery is compared with hand- labor. But, in this one instance, go to tlte fountain-head, and ask Mr. Henry Little there, to tell you his own tragedy, with all the ins and outs." "Ah! if he would," said Grace, turning her eyes on Henry. " But he is not so communi- cative to poor us. Is he, Jael ?" "No, Miss." " He never even told us his name. Did he, Jael ?" " No, Miss. He is very close." " Open him then," said the Doctor. " Come, come, there are a pair of you; and evidently dis- posed to act in concert ; if you can not turn a man inside out, I disown you; you are a dis- credit to your sex." He then shook hands with all three of them, and rolled away. "Jael," said Miss Carden, "oblige me by ringing the bell." A servant entered. "Not at home to any human creature," said the young lady. The servant retired. " And, if tfiey see me at the window, all the worse — for them. Now, Mr. Little ?" Henry complied, and told the whole story, with the exception of the threat to his sweet- heart; and passed two delightful hours. Who is so devoid of egotism as not to like to tell his own adventures to sympathizing beauty ? He told it in detail, and even read them portions of the threatening letters ; and, as he told it, their lovely eyes seemed on fire ; and they were red, and pale, by turns. He told it, like a man, with dignity, and sobriety, and never used an epithet. It was Miss Carden who supplied the "Monsters!" "Villains!" "Cowards!" " Wretches !" at due intervals. And once she started from her seat, and said she could not bear it. " I see through it all, " she cried. ' ' That Jobson is a hypocrite ; and he is at the bottom of it all. I hate him ; and Parkin worse. As for the assassii, I hope God, who saw him, will pun- ish him. What / want to do is to kill Jobson and Parkin, one after another; kill them — kill them — kill them — 111 tell papa." As for Jael, she could not speak her mind, but she panted heavily, and her fingers worked con- vulsively, and clutched themselves very tight at last. When he had done his narrative, he said sadly, "I despise these fellows as much as you do ; but they are too many for me. I am obliged to leave Hillsborough." "What, let the wretches drive you away ? I would never do that — if I was a man." " What would you do, then ?" asked Henry his eye sparkling. "Do? Why fight them; and beat them; and kill them. It is not as if they were brave men. They are only cunning cowards. Fd meet cun- ning with cunning. I'd outwit them somehow. I'd change my lodging every week, and live at little inns and places. I'd lock up every thing I used, as well as the rooms. I'd consult wiser heads, the editor of the Liberal, and the Head of the police. I'd carry fire-arms, and have a body- guard, night and day ; but they should never say they had frightened me out of Hillsborough — if I was a man." " You are right,*" cried Henry. '" 111 do all you advise me, and I won't be driven out of this place. I love it. I'll live in it, or I'll die in it I'll never leave it." This was almost the last word that passed this delightful afternoon, when the sense of her own past injustice, the thrilling nature of the story told by the very sufferer, and, above all, the presence and the undisguised emotion of another sympa- thizing woman, thawed Grace Garden's reserve, warmed her courage, and carried her, quite uncon- sciously, over certain conventional bounds, which had, hitherto, been strictly observed in her inter- course with this young workman. Henry himself felt that this day was an era in his love. When he left the door, he seemed to tread on air. He walked to the first cab-stand, took a conveyance to his mother's door, and soon he was locked in her arms. She had been fretting for hours at his delay; but she never let him know it. The whole place was full of preparations for his comfort, and cer- tain delicacies he liked were laid out on a tittle side-board, and the tea-things *set, including the silver teapot, used now on high occasions only. She had a thousand questions to ask, and he to answer. And, while he ate, the poor woman leaned back, and enjoyed seeing mm eat; and, while he talked, her fine eyes beamed with mater- nal joy. She revelled deliciously in his health, his beauty, and his safe return to her ; and thought, with gentle complacency^hat they should soon return to London together. In the morning; she got out a large light box; and said, " Harry, dear, I suppose I may as well begin to pack up. You know I take longer than you do." Henry blushed. * ' Pack up ?" said he, hesita- tingly. " We are not going away." ' * Not going away, love ? Why you agreed to leave, on account of those dreadful Unions." " Oh, I was ill, and nervous, and out of spir- its ; but the air of Cairnhope has made a man of me. I shall stay here, and make our fortune;" • "But the air of Cairnhope has not made yon friends with the Unions." She seemed to reflect a moment, then asked him at what time he had left Cairnhope. "Eleven o'clock." " Ah I And who did yon visit before yon came to me ?" " You question me like a child, mother." \ IV 36 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. "Forgive me, dear. I will answer my own question. You called on some one who gave you bad advice." " Oh, did I ?" " On some woman. " 44 Say, a lady." "What does that matter to me?" cried Mrs. Little, wildly. 4 4 They are all my enemies. And this one is yours. It is a woman, who is not your mother, for she thinks more of herself than of you." CHAPTER VII. Henry had now to choose between his moth- er's advice and Miss Carden's commands ; and this made him rather sullen and irritable. He was glad to get out of his mother's house, and went direct to the works. Bayne welcomed him warmly, and, after some friendly congratulations and inquiries, pulled out two files of journals, and told him he had promised to introduce him to the editor of the Liberal. He then begged Henry to wait in the office, and read the files — he would not be gone many minutes. The Constitutional gave a dry* narrative of the outrage, and mourned the»frequency of such inci- dents. The Liberal gave a dramatic narrative, and said the miscreant must have lowered himself by a rope from the parapet, and passed the powder inside without entering. "He perilled his life to perpetrate this crime ; and he also risked penal servitude for ten years. That he was not deter- red by the double risk, proves the influence of some powerful motive; and that motive must have been either a personal fend of a very virulent kind, or else trade fanaticism. From this alter- native there is no escape." Next day, both journals recorded a trade-meet- ing at "The Rising Sun." Delegates from the Edge-Tool Forgers' Union, and the Edge-Tool Handlers' Union, with some other representatives of Hillsborough Unions, were present, and passed a resolution repudiating, with disgust, the outrage that had been recently committed, and directed their secretaries to offer a reward of twenty pounds, the same to be paid to any person who would give such information as should lead to the discovery of the culprit. On this the Constitutional commented as fol- lows : — 44 Although we never for a moment sus- pected these respectable Unions of conniving at this enormity, yet it is satisfactory to find them, not merely passive spectators, but exerting their energy, and spending their money, in a praise- worthy endeavor to discover and punish the of- fenders." Henry laid down the paper, and his heart felt ▼ery warm to Jobson and Parkin. 4 4 Come, " said he, "I am glad of that. They are not half a bad sort, those two, after all." Then he took up the Liberal, and being young and generous, felt disgusted at its comment: 44 This appears very creditable to the two Un- ions in question. But, unfortunately, long expe- rience proves that these small rewards never lead to any discovery. They fail so invariably, that the Unions do not risk a shilling by proffering them. In dramatic entertainments the tragedy is followed by a farce : and so it is with these sanguinary crimes in Hillsborough ; they are al- ways followed by repudiation, and oners of a trumpery reward quite disproportionate to the offense, and the only result of the farce is to divert attention from the true line of inquiry as to who enacted the tragedy. The mind craves novelty, and perhaps these delegates will indulge that de- sire by informing us for once, what was the per- sonal and Corsican feud which led — as they would have us believe — to this outrage ; and will, at the same time, explain to us why these outrages with gunpowder have never, either in this or in any preceding case, attacked any but non-union men." When Henry had read thus far, the writer of the leader entered the room with Mr. Bayne. A gentleman not above the middle height, but with a remarkable chest, both broad and deep ; yet he was not unwieldly, like Doctor Amboyne, but clean-built, and symmetrical. An agreeable face, with one remarkable feature, a mouth full of iron resolution, and a slight humorous dimple at the corners. He shook hands with Henry, and said, " I wish to ask you a question or two, in the way of busi- ness : but first let me express my sympathy, as a man, and my detestation of the ruffians, that have so nearly victimized you." This was very hearty, and Henry thanked him, with some emotion. 44 But, sir," said he, "if I am to reply to your questions, you must promise me you will never publish my name." 44 It is on account of his mother," whispered Bayne. 44 Yes, sir. It was her misfortune to lose my father by a violent death, and of course you may imagine — " 44 Say no more," said Mr. Holdfast: "your name shall not appear. And — let me s ee does your mother know you work here ?" 44 Yes, she does." 44 Then we had better keep Cheetham's name out as well." 44 Oh, thank you, sir, thank you. Now 111 answer any questions you like." " 44 Well, then, I hear this outrage was preceded by several letters. Could I see them ?" 4 4 Certainly. I carry mine always in my pocket, for fear my poor mother should see them : and, Mr. Bayne, you have got Cheetham's." In another minute the whole correspondence was on the table, and Mr. Holdfast laid it out in order, like a map, and went through it, taking notes. 44 What a comedy," said he. 44 All but the denouement. Now, Mr. Bayne, can any oth- er manufacturers show me a correspondence of this kind?" 4 4 Is there one that can't ? There isn't a power- wheel, or a water-wheel, within eight miles of Hillsborough, that can't show you just such a correspondence as this ; and rattening, or worse, at the tail of it." Mr. Holdfast's eye sparkled like a diamond. 44 111 make the round," said he. "And, Mr. Little, perhaps you will be kind en#ugh to go with me, and let me question you, on the road. I have no sub-editor ; no staff; I carry the whole journal on my head. Every day is a hard race between Time and me, and not a minute to spare. " Mr. Cheetham was expected at the works this afternoon : so Henry, on leaving Mr. Holdfast, returned to them, and found him there with Bayne, PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 37 looking, disconsolately, over a dozen orders for carving-tools. " Glad to see you again, my lad," said Cheet- ham. " Why, you look all the better." " I'm none the worse, sir." " Come to take your balance and leave me?" This was said half plaintively, half crossly. " If you wish it, sir." "Not I. How is it. to be?" *' Well, sir, I say to you what you said to me the other day, Stick to me, and ill stick to you." "Ill stick to you." Bayne held up his hands piteously to them both. "What, sir?" faltered he, turning to Cheet- ham, ' 4 after all your experience ! " then to Henry, " What, fight the trades, after the lesson they have given you ?" " I'll fight them all the more for that," said Henrv, grinding his teeth; "fight them till all is blue." "■So will I. That for the trades !" "Heaven help you both!" groaned Bayne, and looked the picture of despair. "You promised me shutters, with a detonator, sir." "Ay, but you objected." " That was before they blew me up." " Just so. Shutters shall be hung to-morrow ; and the detonators I'll fix myself." " Thank you, sir. Would you mind engaging a watchman ?" '♦Hum? Not — if you will share the ex- pense.*' "I'll pay />ne-third." " Why should I pay two-thirds ? It is not like shutters and Bramah locks : they are property. However, he'll be good against rattening ; and you have lost a fortnight, and there are a good many orders. Give me a good day's work, and we won't quarrel over the watchman. " He then inquired, rather nervously, whether there was any thing more. " No, sir : we are agreed. And I'll give you good work, and full time." The die was cast, and now he must go home and face his mother. For the first time this many years he was half afraid to go near her. He dreaded remonstrances and tears : tears that he could not dry ; remonstrances that would wor- ry him, but could not shake him. This young man, who had just screwed his physical courage up to defy the redoubtable Unions had a fit of moral cowardice, and was so reluc- tant to encounter the gentlest woman in England, that he dined at a chop-house, and then saunter- ed into a music-hall, and did not get home till past ten, meaning to say a few kind, hurried words, then yawn, and slip to bed. But, meantime, Mrs. Little's mind had not been idle. She had long divined a young rival in her son's heart, and many a little pang of jeal- ousy had traversed her own. This morning, with a quickness which may seem remarkable to those who have not observed the watchful keenness of maternal love, she had seen thai her rival had worked upon Henry to resign his declared inten- tion of leaving Hillsborough. Then she had felt her way, and, in a moment, she had found the younger woman was the stronger. Sha^assumed, as a matter of course, that this girl ims in love with Henry (Wlo would not be in love with him?^, and had hung, weeping, round his neck, when he called from Cairnhope to bid her farewell, and had made him promise to stay. This was the mother's theory ? wrong, but rational. Then came the question, What should she do ? Fight against youth and nature? Fight, unlike- ly to succeed, sure to irritate and disturb. Bisk any of that rare affection and confidence her son had always given her ? While her thoughts ran this way, seven o'clock came, and no Henry. Eight o'clock, and no Qfciry. ' ' Ah ! " thought the, mother, * ' that one word of mine has had this effect already." She prepared an exquisite little supper. She made her own toilette with particular care ; and, when all was ready, she sat down and comforted herself by reading his letters, and comparing his love with the cavalier behavior of many sons in this island, the most unfilial country in Europe. At half past ten Henry came up the stairs, not with the usual light elastic tread, but with slow, hesitating foot. Her quick ear caught that too, and her gentle bosom yearned. What, had she frightened him ? He opened the door, and she rose to receive him all smiles. ^"You are rather late, dear," she said; "but A the better. It has given me an excuse for reading your dear letters all over again ; and I have a thousand questions to ask you about Cairnhope. But sit down first, and have your supper." Henry brightened up, and ate a good supper, and his mother plied him with questions, all about Cairnhope. Here was an unexpected relief. Henry took a superficial view of all this. Sharp young men of twenty-four understand a great many things ; but they can't quite measure their mothers yet. Henry was selfishly pleased, but not ungrate- ful, and they paaagd a pleasant and affectionate time : and, as foiSaving Hillsborough, the topic was avoided by tacit consent. Next morning, after this easy victory, Henry took a cab and got to " Woodbine Villa " by a circuitous route. His heart beat high as he enter- ed the room where Grace was seated. After the extraordinary warmth and familiarity she had shown him at the last interview, he took for grant- ed he had made a lasting progress in hepregard. But she received him with a cold and distant manner, that quite benumbed him. Grace Car- den's face and manner were so much more ex- pressive than other people's, that you would never mistake or doubt the mood she was in ; and this morning she was freezing. The fact is, Miss Carden had been tormenting herself: and when beauty suffers, it is very apt to make others suffer as well. "I am glad you are come, Mr. Little," said she, "for I have been taking myself to task ever since, and I blame myself very much for some things I said. In the first pktdb, it was not for me " (here the fair speaker colored up to the tem- ples) "to interfere in your affairs at all: and then, if I must take such a liberty, I ought to have advised you sensibly, and for your good. I- have been asking people, and they all tell me it is mad- ness for one person to fight against these Unions. Every body gets crushed. So now let me hope you will carry out your wise intention, and leave 38 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. wiUbe at Hillsborough ; and then my conscience ease." * Every word fell like an icicle on her hearer's heart. To please this cold, cnangeful creature, he had settled to defy the unchangeable Unions, and had been ready to resist his mother, and slight her immortal and unchanging love. "You don't answer me, sir!" said Miss Car- den, with an air of lofty surprise. " I answered you yesterday," said he sullenly. "A man can't chop and change like a weather- cock." " But it is not changing, it's only going back to your own intention. You know you were going to leave Hillsborough, before I talked all £at nonsense. Your story had set me on fire, and that's my only excuse. Well, now, the same per- son takes the liberty to give you wise and consid- erate advice, instead of hot, and hasty, romantic nonsense. Which ought you to respect most — folly or reason — from the same lips ?" Henry seemed to reflect. "That sounds rea- sonable," said he; "but, when you advised me not to show the white feather, you spoke your heart ; now, you are only talking from your head. Then, your beautiful eyes flashed fire, and your soul was in your words : who could resist them ? And you spoke- to me like a friend; now you speak to me like^m enemy." " Oh, Mr. Little, that is ridiculous." * ' You do, though. And I'm sure I don't know why." "Nor I. Perhaps because I am cross with myself; certainly not with you." " I am glad of that. . Well, then, the long and the short is, you showed me you thought it cow- ardly to fly from the trades. You wouldn't, said you, if you were a man. Well, I'm a man ; and I'll do as you would do in my place. I'll not throw my life away, 111 meet craft with craft, and force with force ; but fly I never will. I'll fight while I've a leg to stand^n." With these words he befh to work on the bust, in a quiet dogged way that was, neverthe- less, sufficiently expressive. Grace looked at him silently for half a minute, and then rose from her chair. " Then," said she, " I must go for somebody of more authority than I am. " She sailed but of the room. Henry asked Jael who she was gone for. " It will be her papa," said JaeL "As if I care what he says." "I wouldn't show her that, if I was you," said Jael, quietly, but with a good deal of weight. "You are right," said Henry. "You are a good girl. I don't know which is the best, you or Martha. I say, I promised to go to Cairnhope some Sunday, and see them all. Shall I drive you over?" "And bring me back at night?" " If von like. / must come back." " ni ask Miss Carden." The words were quiet and composed, but the blushing face beamed with unreasonable happi- ness ; and Grace, who entered at that moment with her father, was quite struck with its elo- quence ; she half started, but took no further no- tice just then. " There, papa," said she, " this is Mr. Little." Mr. Carden was a tall gentleman, with some- what iron features, but a fine head of gray hair : rather an imposing personage ; not the least pom- pous though ; quite a man of the world, and took a business view of every thing, matrimony, of course, included. " Oh, this is Mr. Little, is it, whose work we all admire so much ?" "Yes, Papa." "And whose adventure has made so much noise?" "Yes, Papa." " By-the-by, there is an article to-day on you : have you seen it ? No ? But you should see it ; it is very smart. My dear " (to Jael), " will you go to my study, and bring the Liberal here ? " Yes, but meantime, I want you to advise him not to subject himself to more gunpowder and things, but to leave the town ; that is all the wretches demand." " And that," said Henry, with a sly, deferen- tial tone, "is a good deal to demand in a free country, is it not, sir ?" • "Indeed it is. Ah, here comes the Liberal. Somebody read the article to us, while he works. I want to see how he does it." Curiosity overpowered Grace's impatience, for a moment, and she read the notice out with un- disguised interest. " * THE LAST OUTRAGE. a t In our first remarks upon this matter, we merely laid down an alternative which admits of no dispute ; and, abstaining from idle conjectures, undertook to collect evidence. We have » case. " This will be a pill," said Mr. Carden, laying down the paper. "Why, they call the Liberal the workman's advocate." "Yes, papa,"ken movements ; she put tip all the fingers ot r right hand to her brow, and that meant five : en she turned her hand rapidly, so as to hide her outh from the others, who were both on her ight hand, and she made the word thousand <1 ■ ■ar. 'ith her lips and tongue, especially the " th." But the sum staggered Henry; and made him !iink he must be misinterpreting her. He hesitated, to gain tinie. " Hum !" said he, Jael repeated her pantomime ns before. Still Henry doubted, and, to feel his way, said, :i'f iiitcriouiirivrjly, "five -ihois- mic.i1-'' Insuring does you are not to be killed ; but that, when you art, for your obstinacy, somebody else will get paid some money, to dance with over your grave." " I beg your pardon, Grace," said Mr. Carden, entering, with some printed papers in his hand. " That is not the only use of an insurance. He may want to marry, or to borrow a sum of money to begin business ; and then a policy of insurance, . with two or three premiums paid, smooths the difficulty. Every body should make a will, and every body should insure his life." "' Well" then, sir, I will do both." " Stop !" said Mr. Garden, who could now af- ford to be candid. " First of all, you ought to satisfy yourself of Ihe flourishing condition of the company." He handed him a prospectus. "This '■ Tive thousand pounds," said Henry s '..id "Five thousand pounds!" cried Mr. Garden. " A workman insure his life for file thousand pounds ! " " Well, a man's life is worth five thousand pounds, or it is worth nothing. And, sir, how long do yoa think I shall lie a workman, c-pe-- daily in Hillsborough, where from work man to master is no more than hopping across u gutter ':" Mr. Garden smiled approval. '" Hni live ti: in sural pounds ! The anoual |. ■rem an a v. ill he con- siderable. Mtiy I ask about how much you make "Oh, papa!" "We'lL sir,' Mr. Cheetham pays me £300 a 'ear, at the rate of, and I can make n norhcr 4100 dd times. But, if v i! ilouhi mi- ability, let us lt was your >ronosal, not mine, you know." n," said Mr. Garden "never be >eppery in bus ness." He said this so solemnly \nd paternally, t sounded like the eleventh com. mandment. To conclude, t was arranged Henry should take the higher class of insunnno, which prm-lded i', PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 41 accidents, voyages, every thing, and should be- in- sured for £5000, provided the physician appoint- ed by the company should pronounce him free from disease. Henry then rose, and said, sorrowfully, to Grace, " You will not see me here very often now ; and never on Saturday afternoon or Monday morn- ing. I am not going to have some blackguard tracking me, and flinging a can of gunpowder in at your window. When I do come, it will be in the morning, and on a working day ; and I shall perhaps go ten miles round to get here. It must be diamond cut diamond, for many a month to come, between the Trades and me.' He uttered these words with manly gravity, as one who did not underrate the peril he was resolved to face; and left Aem with a respectful bow. "That's a rising man," said Mr. Carden; "and may draw a hundred of his class to the 'Gosshawk.' It was a good stroke of business, quite out of the common." Grace said not a word, but she shook her head, and looked pained and ill at ease. Jael watched her fixedly. Henry called at the works that night, and ex- amined the new defenses, with Mr. Cheetham. He also bought a powerful magnifying-glass ; and next morning he came to the factory, exam- ined the cinders, and every thing else, with the magnifier, lighted his forge, and resumed his work. At dinner time he went out and had his chop, and read the Liberal; it contained a letter from Jobson, in reply to the editor. Jobson deplored the criminal act, admitted that the two Unions had decided no individual could • be a forger, a handler, and a cutler ; such an ex- ample was subversive of all the Unions in the city, based, as they were, on subdivision of crafts. " But," said Mr. Jobson, "we were dealing with the matter in a spirit quite inconsistent with out- rages, and I am so anxious to convince the pub- lic of this, that I have asked a very experienced gentleman to examine our minute-books, and re- port accordingly." This letter was supplemented by one from Mr. Grotait, secretary of the Saw-Grinders, which ran thus : — " Messrs. Parkin and Jobson have appeal- ed to me to testify to certain facts. I was very reluctant to interfere, for obvious reasons; but was, at last, prevailed on to examine the minute- books of those two Unions, and they certainly do prove that on the very evening before the explo- sion, those trades had fully discussed Mr. 's case " (the real name was put, but altered by the editor), "and had disposed of it as follows : They agreed, #nd this is entered accordingly, to offer him his travelling expenses (first class) to Lon- don, and one pound per week, from their funds, until such time as he should obtain employment. I will only add, that both these secretaries spoke kindly to me of Mr. ; and, believing them to be sincere, I ventured to advise them to mark their disapproval of the criminal act, by offering him two pounds per week, instead of one pound; which advice they have accepted very readily." Henry was utterly confounded by these letters. Holdfast commented on them thus : "Messrs. Jobson and Parkin virtually say that if A, for certain reasons, pushes a man violently out of Hillsborough, and B draws him gently out of Hillsborough for the same reasons, A and B can not possibly be co-operating. Messrs. Parkin and Jobson had so little confidence in this argu- ment, which is equivalent to saying there is no such thing as cunning in trade, that they employed a third party to advance it with all the weight of his popularity and seeming impartiality. But who is this candid person, that objects to assume the judge, and assumes the judge? He is the treasurer and secretary of an Union that does not number three hundred persons ; yet in that small Union, of which he is dictator, there has been as much rattening, and more shooting, and blowing-up wholesale and retail, with the farci- cal accompaniment of public repudiation, than in all the other Unions put together. We consider the entrance of this ingenious personage on the scene a bad omen, and shall watch all future pro- ceedings with increased suspicion." Henry had hardly done reading this, when a man came into the works, and brought him his fif- teen pounds back from Mr. Jobson, and a line, offering him his expenses to London, and two pounds per week, from the Edge-Tool Forgers' box, till he should find employment. Henry took his money, and sent back word that the propo- sal came too late; after the dastardly attempt to assassinate him, ,he should defy the Unions, until they accepted his terms. Jobson made no reply. And Henry defied the Unions. The Unions lay still, like some great fish at the bottom of a pool, and gave no sign of life or ani- mosity. This did not lull Henry into a false se- curity. He never relaxed a single precaution. He avoided "Woodbine Villa ;"'he dodged and doubled like a hare, to hide his own abode. , But he forged, handled, and finished, in spite of the Unions. [ The men were civil to him in the yard, and he had it all his own way, apparently. | He was examined by a surgeon, and reported I healthy. He paid the insurance premium, and | obtained the policy. So now he felt secure, un- der the aegis of the Press, and the wing of the "Gosshawk." By-and-by, that great fish I have mentioned gave a turn of its tail, and made his placid waters bubble a little. A woman came into the yard, with a can of tea for her husband, and a full apron. As she went out, she emptied a set of tools out of her apron on to an old grindstone, and slipped out. The news of this soon travelled into the office, and both Cheetham and Bayne came out to look at them. They were a set of carving-tools, well made, and highly polished ; and there was a scrap of paper with this distich : We are Hillsborough made) Both haft and blade. Cheetham examined them, and said, "Well, they are clever fellows. I declare these come very near Little's : call him down and let us draw him." Bayne called to Henry, and that brought him down, and several more, who winded .something. " Just look at these," said Cheetham. r *: Little colored : he saw the finger of the Union** at once, and bristle^ all over with caution and hostility. I see them, sir. They are very fair speci- <' '•>. << 42 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. mens of cutlery ; and tnere are only about twenty tools wanting to make a complete set ; but there is one defect in them as carving-toois. • 44 What is that?" "They are useless. You can't carve wood with them. None but a practical carver can de- sign these tools, and then he must invent and make the steel moulds first. Try and sell them in Lou- don or Paris, you'll soon find the difference. Mr. Bay ne, I wonder you should call me from my forge to examine 'prentice-work." And, with this, he walked off disdainfully, but not quite easy in his mind, for he had noticed a greedy twinkle in Cheetham's eye. The next day all the grinders in Mr. Cheetham's employ, except the scissors-grinders, rose, all of a sudden, like a flock of partridges, and went out into the road. " What ifr up now ?" inquired Bavne. The answer was, their secretaries had sent for them. They buzzed in the road, for a few minutes, and then came back to work. At night there was a great meeting at the *' Cutlers' Anns," kept by Mr. Grotait. At noon next day, all the grinders aforesaid in Mr. Cheetham's employ walked into the of- fice, and left, each of them, a signed paper to this effect : "This is to give you notice that I will leave your service a week after the date thereof." (Meaning "hereof," I presume.) Cheetham asked several of them what was up. Some replied, civilly, it was a trade matter. Others suggested Mr. Cheetham knew as much about it as they did. Not a single hot or uncivil word was spoken on either side. The game had been played too oft- en for that, and with results too various. One or two even expressed a sort of dogged regret. The grinder Reynolds, a very honest fellow, admitted, to Mr. Cheetham, that he thought it a sorry trick, for a hundred men to strike against one that had had a squeak for his life. " But no matter what I think or what I say, I must ^o what the Union bids me, sir." " I know that, my poor fellow," said Cheetham. "I quarrel with none of you. I fight you alL The other masters, in this town, are mice, but I'm a man." This sentiment he repeated very often during the next six days. The seventh came, and the grinders never enter- ed the works. Cheetham looked grave. However, he said to Bayne, " Go and find out where they are. Do it cleverly, now. Don't be noticed." Bayne soon ascertained they were all in the neighboring public houses. " I thought so," said Cheetham. " They will come in, before night. They sha'n't beat me, the vagabonds. I'm a man, I'm not a mouse." "Orders pouring in, sir," sighed Bayne. " And the grinders are rather behind the oth- ers in their work already." "They must have known that : or why draw out the grinders? How could they know it ?" "Sir," said Bayne, "they say old Smitem is in this one. Wherever he is, the master's busi- ness is known, or guessed, heaven knows how ; and, if there is a hole in his, coat, that hole is hit. Just look at the cleverness of it, sir. Here we are, wrong with the forgers and handlers. Yet they come into the works and take their day's wages. But they draw out the grinders, and mutilate the business. They hurt you as much as if they struck, and lost their wages. But no, they want their wages to help pay the grinders on strike. Your only chance was to discharge every man in the works, the moment the grinders gave notice." " Why didn't you tell me so, then ?" "Because I'm not old Smitem. He can see a thing beforehand. I can see it afterwards. I'm like the weatherwise man's pupil ; as good as my master, give me time. The master could tell you, at sunrise, whether the day would be wet or dry, and the pupil he could tell you at sunset : and that is just the odds between old Smitem and me." " Well, if he is old Smitem, I'm old tightem." At night, he told Bayne he had private infor- mation, that the grinders were grumbling at being made a catspaw of by the forgers and the han- dlers. " Hold on," said he ; " they will break up before morning." At ten o'clock next day he came down to the works, and some peremptory orders had poured in. " They must wait," said he, peevishly. At twelve he said, "How queer the place seems, and not a grindstone going. It seems as still as the grave. I'm a man ; I'm not a mouse." Mr. Cheetham repeated this last fact in zoology three times, to leave no doubt of it in his own mind, I suppose. At one, he said he would shut up the works rather than be a slave. At 1 15 he blustered. At 1 20 he gave in : collapsed in a moment, like a punctured bladder. "Bayne," said lie, with a groan, "go to Jobson, and ask him to< come and talk this foolish business over." "Excuse me, sir," said Bayne. "Don't be offended ; but you are vexed and worried, and whoever the Union sends to you will be as cool as marble. I have just heard it is Redcar carries the conditions." " What, the foreman of my own forgers! Is he to dictate to me ?" cried Cheetham, grinding his teeth with indignation. " Well, sir, what does it matter ?" said Bayne, soothingly. "He is no more than a mouth- piece." Go for him," said Cheetham, sullenly. But, sir, I can't bear that your own work- man should see you so agitated." " Oh, I shall be all right the moment I see my man before me." Bayne went off, and soon returned with Red- car. The man had his coat on, but had not re- moved his leathern apron. « Cheetham received him as. the representative of the Unions. " Sit down, Redcar, and let us put an end to this little bother. What do you re- quire ?" "Mr. Little's discharge, sir." " Are you aware he is with me on a month's notice ?" "They make a point of his leaving the works at once, sir ; and I was to beg you to put other hands into his room." " It is taking a great liberty to propose that." " Nay. They only want to be satisfied. He has given a vast o' trouble." " I'll give him a month's warning. If I dis- charge him on the spot, he can sue me." it PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 43 u That has been thought on. If he sues you, you can talk to the Unions, and they will act with you. But the grinders are not to come in till Little is out." "Well, so be it, then." "And his rooms occupied by Union men." " If I swallow the bolus, I may as well swallow the pills. Any thing more ?" "The grinders are not to lose their time; a day and a half." " What ! am I to pay them for not working ?" "Well, sir, if we had come to you, of course the forgers and handlers would have paid the grinders for lost time ; but, as you have come to us, you will have to pay them." Cheetham made a wry face ; but acquiesced. "And then, sir," said Redcar, " there's anoth- er little matter. The incidental expenses of the strike." " I don't know what you mean." "The expenses incurred by the secretaries, and a little present to another gentleman, who ad- vised us. It comes to thirty pounds altogether." " What !" cried Cheetham, struggling with his rising choler. "You want me to pay men thir- ty pounds for organizing a strike, that will cost me so dear, and rob me of a whole trade that was worth £300 a year ? Why not charge me for the gunpowder you blew up Little with, and spoile4 my forge? No, Bayne, no; this is too unjust and too tyrannical. Flesh and blood won't bear it. I'll shut up the works, and go back to my grindstone. Better live on bread and water than live a slave. " Redcar took a written paper out* of his pocket. "There are the terms written down," said he. " If you sign them, the strike ends ; if you don't, it continues — till you do." Cheetham writhed under the pressure. Orders were pouring in ; trade brisk ; hands scarce. Each day would add a further loss of many pounds for wages, and doubtless raise fresh exac- tions. He gulped down something very like a sob, and both his hand and his voice shook with strong passion as he took the pen. " 111 sign it ; but if ever my turn comes, I'll remember this against you. This shows what they really are, Bayne. Oh, if ever you workmen get power, Goi> HELP THE WORLD !" • These words seemed to come in a great pro- phetic agony out of a bursting 'heart. But the representative of the Unions was nei- ther moved by them nor irritated. "All right," said he, phlegmatically ; "the winner takes his bite; the loser gets his bark: that's reason," ♦ Henry Little was in his handling-room, work- ing away, with a bright perspective before him, when Bayne knocked at the door, and entered with Redcar. Bayne's face wore an expression so piteous, that Henry divined mischief at once. "Little, my poor fellow, it is all over. We are obliged to part with you." " Cheetham has thrown me over!" " Vh\&t could he do ? I am to ask you to va- cate these rooms, that we may get our half-day out off t^ie grinders." Henry turned pale, but there was no help for it. lie got up in a very leisurely way ; and, while he /was putting on his coat, he told Bayne, dog- gedly, he should expect his month's salary. As he was leaving, Redcar spoke to him in rather a sheepish way. "Shake hands, old lad," said he : "thou knows one or t'other must win ; and there's not a grain of spite against thee. It's just a trade matter." Henry stood with his arms akimbo, and looked at Redcar. "I was in hopes," said he, grinding his teeth, "you were going to ask me to take a turn with you in the yard, man to man. But I can't refuse my hand to one of my own sort that asks it. There 'tis. After all, you deserve to win, for you are true to each other ; but a master can't be true to a man, nor to any thing on earth, but his pocket." He then strolled out into the yard, with his hands in his poqfcets, and whistled "The Har- monious Blacksmith," very sick at heart. CHAPTER IX The strike was over, the grinders poured into the works, and the grindstones revolved. Henry Little leaned against an angle o£ the building, and listened with aching heart to their remorseless thunder. He stood there disconsolate — the one workman out of work — and sipped the bitter cup, defeat. Then he walked out at the gates, and wandered languidly into the streets. He was mis- erable, and had nobody to mourn to, for the main cause of his grief lay beneath the surface of this defeat ; and how could he reveal it, now that his ambitious love looked utter madness ? Young as he was, he had seen there is no sympathy in the world for any man who loves out of his sphere. Indeed, whatever cures or crushes such a passion, is hailed by the by-standers as a sharp but whole* some medicine. He sauntered about, and examined all the shops with lack-lustre eye. He looked in at every thing, but observed nothing, scarcely saw any thing. All his senses were turned inwards. It was such a pitiable and .galling result of a gallant fight. Even the insurance office had got the bet- ter of him. It had taken one-third of his savings, and the very next day his trade was gone, and his life in no danger. The "Gosshawk" had plucked him, and the trade had tied his hands. Rack his invention how he would, he coul<} see no way of becoming a master in Hillsborough, except by leaving Hillsborough and working hard and long in some other town. He felt in his own heart the love and constancy to do this ; but his reason told him such constancy would be wasted ; for, while he was working at a distance, the im- pression, if any, he had made on her would wear away, and some man born with money would step in and carry her gayly off. This thought returned to him again and again, and exasperated him so at last, that he resolved to go to "Woodbine Villa," and tell her his heart before he left the place. Then he should be rejected, no doubt, but perhaps pitied, and not so easily forgotten as if he had melted silently away. He walked up the hill, first rapidly, then slowly. He called at " Woodbine Villa." The answer was, "Not at home." " Every thing is against me," said he. He wandered wearily down again, and just at the entrance of the town he met a gentleman with a ladv on each arm, and one of those ladies was 44 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. Miss Carden. The fortunate cavalier was Mr. Coventry, whom Henry would have seen long be- fore this, but he had been in Paris for the last four months. He had come back fuller than ever of agreeable gossip, and Grace was chatting away to him, and beaming with pleasure, as innocent girls do, when out on a walk with a companion they like. She was so absorbed she did not even see Henry Little. He went off the pavement to make room for their tyrannical crinolines, and passed unnoticed. He had flushed with joy at first sight of her, but now a deadly qualm seized him. The gentle- man was handsome and commanding ; Miss Car- den seemed very happy, hanging on his arm ; none the less bright and happy^hat he, her hum- ble worshipper, was downcast and wretched. It did not positively praye much : yet it indica- ted how little he must be to her : and somehow it made him realize more clearly the great disad- vantage at which he lay, compared with an admir- er belonging to her own class. Hitherto his senses had always been against his reason: but now for once they co-operated with his judgment, and made him feel that, were he to toil for years in London, or Birmingham, and amass a fortune, he should only be where that gentleman was al- ready ; and while the workman, far away, was slaving, that gentleman and others would be courting her. She might refuse one or two. But she would not refuse them all. Then, in his despair, he murmured, " Would to God I had never seen her ! " He made a fierce resolve he would go home, and tell his mother she could pack up. He quickened his steps, for fear his poor sor- rowful heart should falter. But, when he had settled on this course, lo ! a fountain of universal hatred seemed to bubble in his heart. He burned to inflict some mortal in- jury upon Jobson, Parkin, Grotait, Cheetham, and all who had taken a part, either active or pas- sive, in goading him to despair. Now Mr. Cheet- ham' s works lay right in his way ; and it struck him he could make Cheetham smart a little. Cheetham's god was money. Cheetham had thrown him over for money. He would go to Cheetham, and drive a dagger into his pocket. He ^walked into the office. Mr. Cheetham was not there : but he found Bayne, and Dr. Am- boyne. 44 Mr. Bayne, "said he, abruptly, "lam come for my month's wages." The tone was so aggressive, Bayne looked alarmed. " Why, Little, poor Mr. Cheetham is gone home with a bad headache, and a sore heart." 44 All the better. I don't want to tell him to his face he is a bragging cur ; all I want out of him now is my money : and you can pay me that." The pacific Bayne cast a piteous glance at Dr. Amboyne. 4 ' I have told you the whole business, sir. Oughtn't Mr. Little to wait till to-morrow, and talk it over with Mr. Cheetham ? I'm only a servant : and a man of peace." 44 Whether he ought or not, I think I can an- swer for him that he will." 44 1 can't, sir," said Henry, sturdily. 44 1 leave the town to-morrow." 4 4 Oh, that alters the case. But must you leave us so soon ?" Yes, sir." (< a 44 4 1 am very sorry for that. Tell me your rea- son. I don't ask out of mere curiosity. Henry replied with less than his usual candor : Is it not reason enough for leaving a place, that my life has been attempted in it, and now my livelihood is taken?" 44 Those are certainly strong reasons. But, on the other hand, your life is no longer in dan- ger: and your livelihood is not gone; for, to speak plainly, I came over here the moment I heard you were discharged, to ask you if you would enter my service on the same terms as Mr. Cheetham gave you, only guineas instead of pounds. " 44 What, turn doctor?" 44 Oh dear, no: the doctors' Union would for- bid that. No, Mr. Little, I am going to ask you to pay me a compliment ; to try my service blind- fold for one week. You can leave it if you don't like it ; but give me one week's trial." 44 How can I refuse you that?" said Heniy, hanging his head. 4 4 You have been a good friend to me. But, sir, mark my words, this place will be my destruction. Well, when am I to begin work ?" 44 To-morrow at ten." 44 So be it," said Henry, wearily, then left the works and went home ; but, as he went, he said to himself, 44 It is not my doing." And his double-faced heart glowed and exulted secretly. He told his mother how the Trades had beaten him, and he was out of work. Mrs. Little consoled him hypocritically. She was delighted. Then he told her his departure had been delayed by Dr. Amboyne: that made her look a little anxious. 44 One question, dear : now the Union has beaten you, they will not be so spiteful, will they ?" 44 Oh, no. That is all over. The conquerors can afford to be good-natured. Confound them ! " 44 Then that is all 1 care about. Then do not leave Hillsborough. Why should you? Wait here patiently. You do not know what may turn up." 44 What, mother, do you want to stay here now ?" said Henry, opening his eyes with aston- ishment. "Whenever my son is happy and safe from harm, thpre I wish to. stay — of course." Next morning Henry called on Dr. Amboyne, and found him in his study, teaching what looked a boy of sixteen, but was twenty-two, to read monosyllables. On Little's entrance the pupil retired from his uphill work, and glowered with vacillating eyes. The lad had a fair feminine face, with three ill things in it : a want, a wild- ness, and a weakness. To be sure He^pr saw it at a disadvantage: for vivid intelligence would come now and then across this mild, wild, va- cant face, like the breeze that sweeps a farm- yard pond. 44 Good-morning, Little. This is your fellow- workman." 44 He does not look up to much," said Henry, with all a workman's blnntness. ^ • 44 What, you have found him out! pever mind ; he can beat the town at one or two things, and it is for these we will use him. Some call him an idiot. The expression is neat and vigor- ous, but not precise ; so I have christened jhim the Anomaly. Anomaly, this is Mr. Little ;\ go and shake hands with him, and admire him."' PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 45 The Anomaly went directly, and gazed into Little's face for some time. He then made his report. " He is beautiful and black." " I've seen him blacker. Now leave off ad- miring him, and look at these pictures while I prose. Two thousand philosophers are writing us dead with 'Labor and Capital.' But I vary the bore. 'Life, Labor, and Capital,' is my chant : and, whereas Life has hitherto been ban- ished from the discussion, I put Life in its true place, at the head of the trio. (And Life I di- vide into long Life, and happy Life.) The sub- ject is too vast to be dealt with all at once ; but I'll give you a peep of it. The rustic laborer in the South sells his labor for too little money to support life comfortably. That is a foul wrong. The rustic laborer in the North has small wages, compared with a pitman, or a cutler ; but he has enough for health, and he lives longer and more happily than either the pitman or the cutler ; so that account is square, in my view of things. But now dive into the Hillsborough trades, and you will find this just balance of Life, Labor, and Capital regarded in some, but defied in others : a forger is paid as much or more than a dry- grinder, though forging is a hard but tolerably healthy trade, and dry-grinding means an early death after fifteen years of disease and misery. The file-cutters are even more killed and less paid. What is to be done, then ? Raise the wages of the more homicidal trades ! But this could only be done by all the Unions acting in concert. Now the rival philosophers, who direct the Unions, are all against Bemocritus — that's myself; they set no value on life. And indeed the most intelligent one, Grotait, smiles blandly on Death, and would grind his scythe for him — at the statement price — because that scythe thins the labor market, and so helps keep up prices." " Then what can we jp ? I'm a proof one can't fight the Unions." " Do ? Why, lay hold of the stick at the oth- er end. Let Pseudo-Philosophy set the means above the end, and fix its shortsighted eyes on La- bor and Capital, omitting Life. (What does it profit a file-cutter if he gains his master's whole capital and loses his own life ?) But you and I, Mr. "Little, are true philosophers, and the work we are about to enter on is — saving cutlers' lives." " I'd rather help take them." 44 Of course ; and that is why I made the pounds guineas." " All right, sir," said Henry, coloring. " I don't expect to get six guineas a week for whistling my own tune. How are we to do the job ?" "By putting our heads together. You have, on the side of your temple, a protuberance, which I have noticed in the crania of inventors. So I want you to go round the works, and observe for yourself how Life is thrown gayly away, in a moment, by needless accidents, and painfully gnawed away by steel-dust, stone-grit, sulphuret of lead, etc. ; and then cudgel your brain for remedies." 44 Sir," said Henry, "I am afraid I shall not earn my money. My heart is not in the job." 44 Revenge is what you would like to beat, not Philanthropy—eh ?" 44 Ay, Doctor." And his black eye flashed fire. ' Well, well, that is natural. Humor my crotch- U" et just now, and perhaps I may humor yours a month or two hence. I think "1 could lay my hand on the fellow who blew you up." 44 What, sir ! Ah ! tell me that, and 111 do as much philanthropy as you like — after — " 44 After you have punched your fellow-crea- ture's head." 4 4 But it is impossible, sir. How can you know ? These acts are kept as secret as the grave." 44 And how often has the grave revealed its se- crets to observant men ? Dr. Donne sauntered about among graves, and saw a sexton turn up a skull. He examined it, found a nail in it, identi- fied the skull, and had the murderess hung. She was safe from the sexton and the rest of the par- ish, but not from a stray observer. Well, the day you were blown up, I observed something, and arrived at a conclusion, by my art." 44 What, physic?" 44 Oh dear, no ; my other art, my art of arts, that I don't get paid for ; the art of putting my- self in other people's places. I'll tell you. While you lay on the ground, in Mr. Cheetham's yard, I scanned the workmen's faces. They were fuH of pity and regret, and were much alike in expres- sion — all but one. That one looked a man awak- ened from a dream. His face was wild, Btupid, confused, astonished. 4 Hallo I' said I, 4 why are your looks so unlike the looks of your fellows T Instantly I put myself in his place. I ceased to be the Democritus, or laughing philosopher of Hillsborough, and became a low uneducated brute of a workman. Then I asked this brute, viz. my- self, why I was staring and glaring in that way* stupidly astonished, at the injured man ? ' Were you concerned in the criminal act, ye blackguard ?' said I to myself. The next step was to put my- self in the place of the criminal. I did so ; and I realized that I, the criminal, had done the act to please the Unions, and expecting the sympa- thy of all Union workmen to be with me. Also that I, being an ignorant brute, had never pic- tured to myself what suffering I should inflict. But what was the result ? I now saw the suffer- er, and did not like my own act ; and I found all the sympathy of my fellows went with him, and that I was loathed and execrated, and should be lynched on the spot were I to own my act. I now whipped back to Dr. Amboyne with the the- ory thus obtained, and compared it with that : the two fitted each other, and I saw the ci before me." 4 4 Good heavens ! This is very deep." 44 .No slop-basin was ever deeper. So leave it for the present, and go to work. Here are cards admitting you, as my commissioner,, to all the principal works. Begin with — Stop a moment, while I put myself in your place. 'Let me see, Cheetham's grinders think they have turned me out of Hillsborough. That mortifies a young man of merit like me. Confound 'em ! I shouldl&e to show them they have not the power to drive me out. Combine how they will, I rise superior. I forge as they could not forge : that was my real crime. Well, 111 be their superior still. I'm their inspector, and their benefactor, at higher wages than they, poor devils, will ever earn at inspect- ing and benefiting, or any thing else. ' Ah ! your color rises. I've hit the right naiL Isn't it an excellent and most transmigratory art? Then begin with Cheetham. By-the-by, the Anomaly has spotted a defective grindstone there. Scru- 46 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. tinize nil, hify^j^hrtmrntn severely ; for no man values his peopTelT lives less than my good friend John Cheetham. Away with you both ; and God speed you." Henry walked down the street with the Anom- aly, and tried to gauge his intellects. 44 What's your real name, my man ?" 4 « Silly Billy." 44 Oh, then I'm afraid you can't do much to help me. " Oh yes, I can, because—" " Because what?" " Because I like you." 44 Well, that's lucky, any way." 44 Billy can catch trout when nobody else can," said the youngster, turning his eyes proudly up to Henry's. 44 Oh, indeed ! But you see that is not exact- ly what the Doctor wants us for." 44 Nay ; he's wrapped up in trout. If it wasn't for Billy and the trout, he'd die right off." Henry turned a look of silent pity on the boy, and left him in his pleasing illusion. He wonder- ed that Dr. Amboyne should have tacked this bi- ped on to him. They entered Cheatham's works, and Henry marched grimly into the office, and showed Mr. Bayne his credentials. 44 Why, Little, you had no need of that" 44 Oh, it is as well to have no misunderstanding with your employer's masters. I visit these works for my present employer, Dr. Amboyne, with the consent of Mr. Cheetham, here written." ^- "Very well, sir," said Bayne, obsequiously; *'and I respectfully solicit the honor of conduct- ing our esteemed visitor." A young man's ill-humor could not stand against this. "Come along, old fellow," said Henry. 44 I'm a bear, with a sore heart ; but who could be such a brute as quarrel with you? Let us be- gin with the chaps who drove me out — the grind- ers. I'm hired to philanthropize 'em — d — n 'em. " They went among the dry-grinders first ; and Henry made the following observations. The workmen's hair and clothes were powdered with grit and dust from the grindstones. The very air was impregnated with it, and soon irritated his own lungs perceptibly. Here was early death, by bronchitis and lung diseases, reduced to a cer- tainty. But he also learned from the men that the quantity of metal ground off was prodigious, and entered their bodies they scarce knew how. A razor-grinder showed him his shirt : it was a deep buff-color. "There, sir," said he, ".that was clean- on yesterday. All the washerwomen in Hillsboro' can't make a shirt of mine any oth- er color but that." The effect on life, health, and happiness was visible ; a single glance reveal- ed rounded shoulders and narrow chests, caused partly by the grinder's position on his horsing, a position very injurious to the organs of breath- ing, and partly by the two devil's dusts that filled the air; cadaverous faces, thetesjcles of which be- trayed habitual suffering, cou£h*^hort and dry, or with a frothy expectoration pw cfl fiar to the trade. In answer to questions, many complained of a fearful tightness across the chest, of inability to eat or to digest One said it took him five min- utes to get up the factory stairs, and he had to lean against the wall several times. A razor-grinder of twenty-two, with death in his face, told Henry he had come into that room when he was eleven. "It soon takes hold of boys," said he. "I've got what I shall never get shut on." Another, who looked ill, but not dying, received Henry's sympathy with a terrible apathy. " I'm twenty-eight, " said he ; " and a fork-grinder is an old cock at thirty. I must look to drop off my perch in a year or two, like the rest." Only one, of all these victims, seemed to trouble his head about whether death and disease could be averted. This one complained that some em- ployers provided fans to drive the dust from the grinder, but Cheetham would not go to'the ex- pense. The rest that Henry spoke to accepted their fate doggedly. They were ready to complain, but not to move a finger in self-defense. Their fa- thers had been ground out young, and why not they? Indifferent to life, health, and happiness, they could nevertheless be inflamed about sixpence a week. In other words, the money-price of their labor was every thing to them, the blood-price nothing. Henry found this out, and it gave him a glimpse into the mind of Amboyne. He fejt quite confused, and began to waver be- tween hate, contempt, and pity. Was it really these poor doomed wretches who had robbed him of his livelihood ? Could men so miscalculate the size of things, as to strike because an inoffensive individual was making complete carving-tools all by himself, and yet not strike, nor even stipulate for fans, to carry disease and death away from their own vitals ?♦ Why, it seemed wasting hate, to bestow it on these blind idiots. He went on to the wet-grinders ; and he found their trade much healthier than dry-grinding: yet there were drawbacks. They suffered from the grit whenever a new stone was hung and raced. They were also subject to a canker of the hands, and to colds, coughs, and inflammations, from perspiration checked by cold draughts and drench- ed floors. These floors were often of mud, and so the wet stagnated and chilled their feet, while their bodies were very hot. . Excellent recipe for filling graves. Here Bayne retired to his books, and Henry proceeded to the saw-grinders, and entered -their rooms with no little interest, for they were an envied trade. They had been for many years governed by Grotait, than whom no man in England saw clearer ; though such men as Amboyne saw far- ther. Grotait, by asystem of Machiavellian policy, ingeniously devised and carried out, nobly, basely, craftily, forcibly, benevolently, ruthlessly, which- ever way best suited the particular occasion, had built a model Union ; and still, with unremitting * zeal and vigilance, contrived to keep numbers down and prices up — which is the great Union problem. The work was hard, but it was done in a po- sition favorable to the lungs, and the men were healthy, brawny fellows ; one or two were of re- markable stature. Up to this moment Silly Billy had fully justi- fied that title. He had stuck to Henry's side like a dog, but with no more interest in the inquiry than a calf. Indeed, his wandering eye and va- cant face had indicated that his scanty wits were wool-gathering miles from the place that contain- ed his body. PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 47 But, as soon as he entered the saw-grinders' room, his features lighted up, and his eye kindled. He now took up a commanding position in the centre, and appeared to be listening keenly. And he had not listened many seconds before he cried out, " There's the bad music! there! there!" And he pointed to a grindstone that was turning and doing its work exactly like the others. * ' Oh, the bad music ! " cried Billy. " It is out of tune. It says, * Murder ! murder! Out of tune !' " Henry thought it his duty to inspect the grind- stone so vigorously denounced, and, naturally enough, went in front of the grinder. But Billy pulled him violently to the side. " You mustn't stand there," said he. "That is the way they fly when they break, and kill the poor father, and then the mother lets down her hair, and the boy goes crazed." By this time the men were attracted by the Anomaly's gestures and exclamations, and several left their work, and came round him. " What is amiss, Billy ? a flawed stone, eh ? which is it ?" "Here! here!" said the boy. "This is the wheel of death. Kill it, break it, smash it, before it kills another father." Henry spoke to the grinder, and asked him if there was any thing amiss with the stone. The man seemed singularly uneasy at being spoken to : however he made answer sullenly that he had seen better ones, and worse ones, and all. Henry was, however, aware, that the breaking of a large grindstone, while revolving by steam- power, was a serious, and often a fatal thing ; he therefore made a private mark upon the wall op- posite the grindstone, and took his excited com- panion to Bayne. "This poor lad says he has found a defective grindstone. It is impossible for me to test it while it is running. Will you let us into the works when the saw-grinders have left?" JBayne hem'd and haw'd a little, but consented. ♦He would remain behind half-an-hour to oblige little. Henry gave the Anomaly his dinner, and then inspected the file-cutters in two great works. Here he found suicide reduced to a system. Whereof anon. Returning, to keep his appointment with Bayne, he met a well-dressed man, who stopped Billy, and accosted him kindly. Henry strolled on. He heard their voices behind him all the way, and the man stopped at Cheetham's gate, which rather surprised him. " Has Billy told you what we are at ?" said he. ' 4 Yes. But the very look of him was enough. I know Billy and his ways, better than you do." " Very likely. What, are you coming in with us?" "If you have no objection." The door was opened by Bayne in person. He started at the sight of the companion his friend had picked up, and asked him, with marked civil- ity if there was any thing amiss. "Not that I know of," was the reply. " I merely thought that my experience might be of some little serv- ice to you in an inquiry of this kind." "Not a doubt of it, sir," said Bayne, and led the way with his lantern, for it was past sunset. On the road, the visitor asked if any body had marked the accused stone. Henry said he should know it again. " That is right," said the other. On entering the room, this personage took Billy by the arm, and held him. "Let us have no false alarms," he said, and blindfolded the boy with his handkerchief in a moment. And now an examination commenced, which the time and the place rendered curious and strik- ing. It was a long, lofty room ; the back part main- ly occupied by the drums that were turned by the driving-power. The power was on the floor above, and acted by means of huge bands that came down through holes in the ceiling and turn- ed the drums. From each of these drums came two leather bands, each of which turned a pulley- wheel, and each pulley-wheel a grindstone, to whose axle it was attached ; but now the grind- stones rested in the troughs, and the great wheel- bands hung limp, and the other bands lay along loose and serpentine. In the dim light of a single lamp, it all looked like a gigantic polypus with its limbs extended lazily, and its fingers holding semi- circular claws : for of the grindstonesless than half is visible. Billy was a timid creature, fed this blindfold- ing business rather scared him : he had almost to be dragged within reach of these gaunt antennae. But each time they got him to touch a grindstone, his body changed its character from shrinking and doubtful, to erect and energetic, and he applied his test. This boy carried with him, night and day, a little wooden hammer, like an auctioneer's, and with this he now tapped each stone several times, searching for the one he had denounced : and, at each experiment, he begged the others to keep away from him and leaveibim alone with the subject of his experiment ; which they did, and held up the lamp and threw the light on him. Six heavy grindstones he tapped, and approved, three he even praised and called "good music." " The seventh he struck twice, first gently, then hard and drew back from it, screaming ' ' Oh, the bad music ! Oh, the wheel of death !" and tried to tear the handkerchief from his eyes. "Be quiet, Billy," said the visitor, calmly; and, putting his arm round the boy's neck, drew him to his side, and detached the handkerchief, all in a certain paternal way thitt seemed to be- token a kindly disposition. But, whilst he was doing this, he said to Henry, " Now — you mark- ed a stone in daylight ; which was it ? " No, no, I didn't mark the stone, but I wrote on the wall just opposite. Lend us the light, Bayne. By George! here is my mark right op- posite this stone." " Then Billy's rigftfev Well done, Billy." He put his hand in his picket and gave him a new shilling. He then inquired of Bayne, with the air of a pupil seeking advice from a master, wheth- er this discovery ought not to be acted upon. " What would you suggest, sir ?" asked Bayne, with equal deference. " Oh, if I was sure I should not be considered presumptuous in offering my advice, I would say, Turn the stone into the yard, and hang a new one. You have got three excellent ones outside ; from Buckhurst quarry, by the look of them." "It shall be done, sir." • ' This effective co-operation, on the part of a stranger, was naturally gratifying ^Manif, and he said to him : " I should be glatt^Bffk you a question. You seem to know a gowSpd about this trade— " , ^ PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. n the newspapers," amining the ceiling with ir, soon directed Henry's attention to two deep dents and a hruv.!) s;.)ahh, " Kvcit one of those marks," said lie, "is ti his- tory, and was written by a flying (.'l-ind-Misc. Where von see the dents the stone struck the "Well, sir, itiscontmry to onr rules, — but— " All the more obliging ofyoa," said thevisito cooll- . :iTt(i lighted them, with his own match, i ceiling;" lie nddeel, very gravely, "and, when (t came down iifiiii:i. ;i-k yi>iu>df. did it always fall right ? These histories are written only on the ceiling and the walla. The floor could tell its tales loo; hut a crushed workman is soon swept off it, and the wheels go on again." PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 49 "That is too true," said Henry. "And it does a chap's heart good to hear a gentleman like '> » vou — "I'm not a gentleman. I'm an old Saw." "Excuse me, sir, you look like a gentleman, and talk like one." " And I try to conduct myself like one : but I am an old Saw." "What ! and carry a gold eyeglass ?" " The Trade gave it me. I'm an old Saw." " Well then, all the better, for you can tell me, and please do : have you ever actually known fa- tal accidents from this cause ?" " I have known the light grinders very much shaken by a breaking stone, and away from work a month after it. And, working among saw- grinders, who use heavy stones, and stand over them in working, I've seen — Billy, go and look at thy shilling, in the yard, and see which is brightest, it or the moon. Is he gone ? I've seen three men die within a few yards of me. One, the stone flew in two pieces ; a fragment, weigh- ing about four hundredweight I should say, struck him on the breast, and killed him on place ; he never spoke. I've forgotten his very name. An- other ; the stone went clean out of window, but it kicked the grinder backward among the machine- ry, and his head was crushed like an eggshell. But the worst of all was poor Billy's father. He had been warned against his stone ; but he said he would run it out. Well, his little boy, that is Billy, had just brought him in his tea, and was standing beside him, when the stone went like a pistol-shot, and snapped the horsing chains like thread : a piece struck the wall, and did no harm, only made a hole ; but the bigger half went clean up to the ceiling, and then fell plump down again ; the grinder he was knocked stupid like, and had fallen forward on his broken horsing : the grind- stone fell right on him, and, ah, — I saw the son covered with the father's blood." He shuddered visibly, at the recollection. Ay," said he, "the man a corpse, and the lad an idiot. One faulty stone did that, within four yards of me, in a moment of time." "Good heavens!" " I was grinding at the next stone but one. He was taken, and I was left. It might just as well have been the other way. No saw-grinder can make sure, when he gets on his horsing, that he will come off it alive." The visitor left Henry to think of this while he drew Bayne aside, and spoke on another matter. Afterwards, all three left the works together ; and Henry was so pleased with his new ally, that he told him, at the gate, he should be glad if he might be allowed to make his acquaintance. " By all means," said the other. " I am quite at your service. You will find me at the ' Cutlers' Arms. ' " "Who shall I ask for ?'' " George Grotait." "Grotait. The devil!" " No, no. Not quite so bad as that." " What," said Henry, roughly, " do you mean to say you are Old Smitem ?" "That is a name fools give me." Henry had no reply ready, and so the sturdy old secretary got the better of him again, and went his way unruffled. Henry scolded Bayne for not telling him. Bayne excused himself on the ground that he 3 <( thought every body knew Grotait. He added\ "He knew you, and told me if he could serve you, without being unjust to the Trades, I was to tell him." Henry replied to this only by a snort of defi- ance, and bade him; good night. The next day and the next were spent in other works, and then Henry, having no more facts to learn, fell into deep dejection again. He saw he must either cheat Dr. Amboyne, by shamming work, or else must leave Hillsborough. He had the honesty to go to the Doctor and say that he had mastered the whole matter, and didn't see his way to take any more wages from a friend. "You mean you have mastered the broad facts." "I have, sir, and they are beyond belief; espe- cially the file-cutters. They are the most numer- ous of all the Trades, and die like sheep. If your notion about Life, Labor, and Capital is right, the Trades are upside down ; for the deadliest are the worst paid." " And you are prepared with the remedies ?" "Not I." " Yet you fancy you are at the end of your work. Why, you are only beginning. Now comes the real brain work ; invention. Now are craniology and you upon your trial. But you are quite right about weekly salary. Invention must not be so degraded, but paid by the piece. Life, Labor, and Capital are upside down in this place, are they ? Then you shall be the man to set them on their legs." Henry shook his head. " Never, sir, unless I could give the masters bowels, and the men brains." * * Well, and why not ? To invention all things are possible. You carry a note-book?" "Yes, sir." " Got it in your pocket ?" "No; on my shoulders." "Haw! haw! haw! Then write this down in it — 'There's a key to every lock/" " It's down, sir." 4 ' Now you must go out trout-fishing with Billy. He will take you on the hills, where the air is pure, and favorable to invention. You will divert your mind from all external subjects, especially Billy, who is a fool, and his trput-killing inhu- mane, and I a merciless glutton for eating them ; and you will think, and think, and think, and forge the required* key to this lock with three wards—- Life, Labor, Capital. And, whenibrged, the Philanthropic Society shall pay you a good price for it. Meantime, don't dream of leaving Hillsborough, or I shall givevyou a s^2p-GUj> that will waft you much farther than \jadott$ for it shall be ' of prussic acid all composed/ or 'juice of cursed Hebenon in a phiaL' Come, away with you." " Good-bye, Doctor. God blesa you. You have found ' the key to my heart * somehow. % come to you a miserable broken-hearted dog, anat you put life and hope into me directly, I declare talking with you it's like drinking sunshine. I*B try all I know to please you." * ' ^ -. ( . ' He went down the street with his old elastic^^.^.. tread, and muttered to himself, "There's no lock ~';JS*, without a key." Next day he went out on the hills wkh BiDy, and saw him tickle trout, and catch them finder * 60 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. stones, and do many strange things, and all the time he thought of Grace Carden, and bemoaned his sad fate. He could not command his mind, and direct it to philanthropy. His heart would not let him, and his personal wrongs were too re- cent. After a short struggle, these got so thor- oughly the better, that he found himself stealing the Doctor's words for his own purposes. " No lock without a key." Then there must be some way of outwitting these cursed Trades, and so making money enough to set up as a master, and then court her, and woo her, and marry her. Heaven seemed to open on him at this prospect, and he fell into a deep reverie. By-and-by, as he pondered, it seemed to him as if the shadow of a coming idea was projected in advance of the idea itself. He knew somehow there was a way to baffle his enemies, and resume his business, and yet he could not see the way ; but still he was absolutely conscious it existed. This conviction took such hold of him, that he became restless, and asked Billy to leave off and come away. The youth consented, and they re- turned to the town with a basket of trout. Hen- ry sent Billy on to the Doctor with half of them, and took the other half to his friend Bayne. On what a trifle things turn. Bayne was very much pleased with his little attention, and asked him to take them to his lodging, and beg the landlady to cook them for dinner. " Tell her you dine with me, old fellow." " Oh, hang it, I wasn't fishing for a dinner." "As if I didn't know that. But you must. Then I shall enjoy your company in peace. I shall be there in an hour." And so he was : but in that one hour events had occurred that I shall leave Mr. Bayne to re- late. During dinner neither of "the friends wasted much time in talk : but after dinner, Bayne pro- duced a bottle of port, notwithstanding Henry's remonstrances at being treated like a stranger, and it soon became apparent that the host himself was not in the habit of drinking that generous mixture every day. At the second glass he so far forgot himself as to utter the phrase " Eternal friendship," and, soon after, he began to writhe in his chair, and, at last, could no longer refrain him- self, but told Henry that Miss Carden had been canvassing customers. She had just sent in six orders for sets of carving-tools, all for friends of her own. Henry colored to the temples at this unexpect- ed proof that she he loved thought of him too. " Oh, Bayne," cried the poor young man, al- most choking, " I little thought — God bless her !" " Let us drink her health," said Bayne, excit- edly. " Ah, that I will !" and this was the first glass Henry drank honestly. 44 Now, Little, I'm not doing quite right, you know ; but I must tell you. When we lost you — you know that set of tools the Union dropped in our yard — well, he sent them to London for yours." 44 That is just like him," said Henry, bitterly. 44 And 111 tell you a good joke ; they were in the place when you called, only not unpacked till just before I came away. Returned, sir! with a severe reprimand. 4 Wonder you should send us such things as these for carving-tools by Lktle. If the error is not repaired shall consider ourselves at liberty to communicate direct with that work- man.' A regular sugar-plum." 44 Oh,' thank you, my kind friend, for telling me. The world isn't all bitterness, after all : a poor fellow gets a sweet drop of friendship now and then." 44 Yes, and a good drop of port now and then, though I say it that shouldn't. Fill np. Well, my boy, Cheetham is in a fine way. I left him walking about the office like a hyena. So now is your time. You can't fight the Trades ; but, if Cheetham will go in with you, and I know he will, for he is sorer than you are, you can trick the Trades yet." 44 Ah ! tell me how, that is all." 44 Oh, I can't tell you exactly. I'll try, though. I say, what a glorious thing the Ruby is : it in- spires us, and fires us, et cetera, and gives us ideas beyond our sphere. Did you ever see one of these new portable forges ?" 44 No ; never heard of them." 44 No wonder; they are just out. Well, buy one of them — they were invented here — and carry it to some dismal cavern, where the foot of man never treads : make Cheetham grind your blades in another county : and who will ever know ? Go to him, and don't say a word, but just ask him for your month's salary. Then he will open the door of business himself — safe. I'll drink his health. He's not a bad sort, Cheetham : only he'd sell his soul for money. I hate such rub- bish. Here's 4 Perdition to the lot; and no heel-taps.'" These words of fire set Henry pondering deeply ; and, as he pondered, Bayne stuck to the port, and so effectually, that, at last, after an interval of silence, he came out in a new character. He disturbed his companion's reverie by informing him, in a loud aggressive tone, that it had long been his secret wish to encounter the Hillsborough Trades, in the persons of their secretaries, under the following conditions : a twenty-four feet ring, an experienced referee, and a kingdom looking on. As to the order'of the pugilistic events, he was not unreasonably fastidious ; must stipulate to begin with old Smitem ; but, after that, they might encounter their fate in any order they chose, one down t'other come on. He let* him know that this ardent desire for single combats, in an interminable series, arose from their treat- ment of his friend — 44 the best friend — the best heart — oh! — the best company — oh! oh! — the best— oh! oh! oh!" Whereupon he wept, the bellicose Bayne. And, after weeping the usual quantity, he twaddled, and, after twaddling, he became as pacific as ever, for he went to sleep in his chair. And, while he snoozed, the words he had utter- ed set his friend's brain boiling and bubbling. When the time came at which Bayne ought to return to the works, Henry called the landlady, and said, 4t Mr. Bayne is not very well. I am going to make his excuses. I wouldn't disturb him till five, if I was you, and then I'd give him a strong cup of tea." Henry then went direct to the office, and found Mr. Cheetham there. 44 Well?" said Mr. Cheetham, rather surlily. 44 1 am come to ask for my month, sir. 5 ' 44 So I guessed. Do you really mean to exact that?" Why not, sir?" u PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 51 " Haven't you heard how they ground me down ?•' 44 Yes, sir. But why did you give in ? I was true to you, but you failed me. I'd have shut up the works for three months, rather than be made a slave of, and go from my word." 44 Ay, ay; that's bachelor's talk. I've got a wife and children ; and they make a man a mouse." 44 Well, sir, I forgive you: but as to my month's wages — now all I say is — Put yourself in my place !" 44 Well?" * 4 You are me. You are brought from London, under an agreement, a month's notice on either side. You work, and give satisfaction. You are threatened, but you don't run from your employ- er. You are blown up, and nearly killed. You lose a fortnight, but you don't charge for it ; 'twasn't your employer's fault You come back to him, and face the music again. You work with the sword hanging over you. But your employer gives in, and sacks you in a minute. Oughtn't you to have your month ? Come now, man to man, oughtn't you ?" 44 1 ought, and that's the truth. I didn't look at it that way. I saw my own side. There — no more about it — I'll draw the check — with a good heart." He drew his check-book to him, with a face as if vultures were tearing his vitals. When Henry found him Amboynable, and saw his piteous look, he felt a little softened towards him, and he said, very impressively, * 4 Wait one moment, sir, I've got an idea. I'm not the sort that likes to be beat. Are yout" The men look- ed steadily at each other. Cheetham lowered his voice: 44 I've had hell inside me ever since. I thought I was a man, but they made a mouse of me. If you know any way to beat them, I'll go in with you." 44 Well, sir, there is a key to every lock." 44 That is well said, and I believe it ; but one can't always find the key." 44 1 almost think I have, sir." 44 See nobody is listening. Where is Bayne? He is due. 44 Oh, he is not very well, sir ; and I was to ask you for an hour's absence." 44 Let him have the whole afternoon, m not have a soul in this but us two. Now come close, and tell me." They sat opposite each other, and put their heads together over the table, and the following dialogue passed almost in a whisper. To see them, you would have thought they were conspiring against the law, instead of combining to hide a lawful act from the violaters of the law." 44 1 can forge the blades a dozen miles from Hillsborough." 44 Not you; you will be told of. That won't do." 44 1 shall not be told of; for nobody will know but you. I shall only forge at night; and the building is out of the world, and wedged in, out of sight, between two bleak hills. Sir, it is a de- serted church." 44 What, forge blades in a church ?" 44 A deserted church ; why not ?" 44 Little, you are A 1. Go on." 44 1 can get the blades ground by a friend at Birmingham ; and my mother and I can put them together at home. The complete articles will come to you in parcels of a certain colored paper, in- voiced in cipher outside, so that they need not be opened ; you can trust the invoice, and dispatch them to your London agent." 44 All right." 44 The steel you must supply me at the current price, and charge it against me." 44 Certainly. But your price per gross ? For this work can't be done by time." 44 Of course not." And Henry named a price per gross at which Cheetham lifted up his hands. 44 Why, you'll take nine pounds a week at that!" 44 Ay, and more," said Henry, coolly. 44 But I sha'n't make it. Why, this scheme entails no end of expenses. A house, and stables with back entrance. A swift horse, to gallop to the forge at sunset, and back by noon. A cart to take the things to the railway and back, and to the parcel delivery for you. And, besides that, I must risk my neck, riding over broken ground at night: and working night and day shortens life. You can't reduce these things to Labor and Capital. It's Life, Labor, and Capital." 44 Hallo ! There's a new cry. I tell ye what ; you know too much for me. You read the Beehive. I take you at your price." Then he had a misgiving. 44 That old Smi- tem's as crafty as a fox. If he finds you stay here, with no visible employment, he will soon be down on us." 44 Ay : but in the day-time I shall appear as a carver of wood, and also an inspector of factories for Dr. Amboyne. Who will suspect me of a night trade, as*well as two day trades ?" Cheetham slapped the table triumphantly : but, recovering his caution, he whispered, 44 It's plan- ned first-rate." 44 And now, sir, there is one difficulty you must help me in, if you please. It is to set up the forge unobserved." 44 What, am I to find the forge?" 44 There's a question, sir ! Of course you are. One of these new portable forges." Cheetham reflected for some little time. He then said it was a ticklish thing, and he saw but one way. <4 The forge must come here, after closing hours, and you and I must fetch it away in the dead of night, and take it down to the old church, and set it up." 44 Well, but, sir, we shall want assistance." 44 Nay, nay. I've got the last suit of moleskin I ever worked in laid away. I'll air 'em, and put 'em on again ; and, when I've got 'em on once more, I shall feelf a man again. Ill have neither fool nor spy init\: the thing is too serious. I might bring some country fellow, that can't read or write ; but no, these portables are small things, and I'm one of the strongest men in Hills- borough. Best keep it to ourselves. When is it to be ?" 44 Say next Wednesday, two hours after mid- night." 44 Then that is settled. And now V\\ square the old account, as agreed." He drew his check- book towards him again. But Henry stopped him. 44 Fair play's a jew- el." said he smiling. 44 The moment yon sacked me — " 44 Say the Trades, not me." ', i ; ^ "Dr. Amboyne hired me, at six g^&letf a week, to inspect the works. So you owe me nothing; but to be true to me." .y 0$ 52 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. m This trait, though it was one of simple probity, astonished and gratified Mr. Cheetham. He looked on the young man with marked respect. 44 You are hard ; but you are very square. I'll be true as steel to you, and we'll outwit our ty- rants together, till I get a chance to put my foot on them. Yes, I'll be open with you ; there are plenty of orders from London and the Continent, and one for six sets from swells in Hillsbor- ough." 44 Might I see that order?" "Why not? There, run your eye over it. I want to go into the packing-room for a min- ute." He then tossed Henry the order, as if it was nothing more than an order. But it was a great deal more than that to Hen- ry. It was Grace Carden's handwriting, the first specimen he had ever seen. He took the paper in his hand, and a slight perfume came from it that went to his heart. He devoured the delicately formed letters, and they went to his heart too : he thrilled all over. And the words were as like her as the perfume. She gave the order, and the addresses of her friends, with a pretty little attempt at the business-like ; but, this done, she burst out, " and we all entreat you to be good to poor Mr. Little, and protect him against the wicked, cruel, abominable Un- ions." These sweet words made his heart beat violent- ly, and brought the tears of tenderness into his eyes. He kissed the words again and again. He put them into his bosom, and took them out again, and gloated over them till they danced be- fore his manly eyes. Then his love took anoth- er turn : he started up, and marched and strut- ted, like a young stag, about the room, with one hand pressing the paper to his bosom. Why had he said Wednesday ? It could all have been got ready on Tuesday. No matter, he would make up for that lost day. He was on the road, once more, the road to fortune, and to her. Cheetham came in, and found him walking excitedly, with the paper in his hand, and of course took the vulgar view of his emotion. "Ay, lad," said he, "and they are all swells, I promise you. There's Miss Laura Craske. That's the mayor's daughter. Lady Betty Ty- rone. She's a visitor. Miss Castleton! Her father is the county member." "And who is this Mr. Coventry?" asked Henry. 44 Oh, he is a landed gentleman, but spends his tin in Hillsborough ; and you can't blame him. Mr. Coventry ? Why, that is Miss Car- den's intended." 44 Her intended!" gasped Henry. 44 1 mean her beau. The gentleman she is go- ing to marry, they say." Henry Little turned cold, and a tremor ran through him ; but he did not speak a word ; and, with Spartan fortitude, suppressed all outward sign of emotion. He laid the paper down patient- ly, and went slowly away. Loyal to his friend even in this bitter moment, he called at Bayne's place, and left word with the landlady that Mr. Bayne was not wanted at the works any more that day. But he conld not bear to talk to Bavne about his plans. They had lost their relish. He walk- ed listlessly away, and thought it all over. For the first time he saw his infatuation clearly. Was ever folly like his ? If she had been a girl in humble life, would he not have asked whether j she had a sweetheart? Yet he must go and give his heart to a lady without inquiry. There, where wisdom and prudence were most needed, he had speculated like an idiot. He saw it, and said to himself, "I have acted like a boy playing at pitch- farthing, not like a man who knew the value of his heart." And so he passed a miserable time, bemoaning the treasure that was now quite inaccessible in- stead of nearly, and the treasure of his own heart he had thrown away. He awoke with a sense bf misery and deep depression, and could not eat; and that was a novelty in his young and healthy life. He drank a cup of tea, however, and then went out, to avoid his mother's tender looks of anxious inquiry. He meant to tell her all one day ; but to-day he was not strong enough. He must wait till he was cured ; for cured he must be, cured he would be. He now tried to give his mind to the task Am- boyne had set him ; but it was too hard : he gave it up, with rage and despair. Then he made a desperate resolve, which will not surprise those who know the human heart. He would harden himself. He would see more of Miss Carden than ever ; only it should be in quite a new light. He would look at her, and keep saying to himself all the time, " You are another man's wife." With this determination, he called at " Wood- bine Villa." Miss Carden was not at home. 44 Are you sure she is not at home?" 44 Not at home," replied the man stiffly. 44 But you needn't to keep him at the door," said a mellow female voice. 44 No, Miss," said the man, with a sudden change of manner, for he was a desperate and forlorn admirer of the last speaker. "Come in, sir." And he ushered him in to Jael Dence. She was in her bonnet, and just going out. They shook hands, and she told him Miss Carden was out walking. 44 Walking with her beau ?" said Henry, affect- ing a jaunty air, but sick within. 44 That's more than I can say," replied Jael. 44 You know nothing about it, of course," said Henry, roughly. Jael looked surprised at the uncalled-for tone, and turned a mild glance of inquiry and reproach upon him. The young man was ashamed of himself, and at that moment, too, he remembered he had al- ready been rather ungrateful to her. So, to make amends, he said, " Didn't I promise to take you to Cairnhope ?" 4 4 Ay, " said Jael ; and she beamed and blushed in a moment. 44 Well, I must go there, Sunday at the latest. So I will come for you, if you like. Will you be readv at ten o'clock ?" "Yes." 4 44 I'll bring a gig, and take you like a lady." 44 Any way you please. I'd as lieve walk as ride." 44 1 prefer riding. Ten o'clock, the day after to-morrow. Good-bye." And he hurried away, provoked, not pleased, PUT YOUKSELF IX IILS PLACE. :,:■: at iIll: mamfe.i pleasure he had given, The wom- an lie loied — inaccessible! The woman lis duly liked— he could spend tlic whole day with Iter, So the reasonable youth was cross with lier tin- that, anil for being so pleased, when lie was wretched. Tii.it feeling -ou:i mirt u!)', however. Mini, being a mun of busiuc.. , tie wrote a line to Martha Dence. anil inlil her he should visit her on Sun- day. He addeii, wiili a jlfin of good-humor, " and Imik d in, fi ii- I sluill bring 11 iy lass," intend- ing to give them all an agreeable surpri-e; tor Juel. lie knew, was an immense favorite. Nest day he went on the hills with Billy, and, instead of thinking for the lienetit of his enemies, :is Agreed with A 11 1 In i_v ne, he set himself to hale every body, especially Miss Garden's lover, and the Hillsborough Unions. The grinders and !ilc- cuttcrs might die like sheep. What didTiecare? An tniieh as they cured for him. Doctor Am- hovne was too good for this world, and should keep bis money to himself, lie (Homy Little) would earn none of it, would take none of it. What invention he had should nil go lo outwit the 'IViulw, ami turn thai old ruffian's church into his own smithy. 'This double master-stroke, by which he was to defeat one enemy, and secret- ly affront another, did make him eliockle once or twice, not witli joy, but with bitterness. He awoke in a similar mood next morning: but there w:i> eight o'clock service near, and the silver-toned bell awakened better thoughts. lie dressed hurriedly, and went to church. i He came hack sadder, hut rather less ho;, less bitter : he hail his brcakfa.t, improved hi., toilette, went to the livery stable, and drove to "Wood- bine Villa." Mr. ami Miss Carden had ju,< finished break- fast, when he drove up to the door. " Who is this ■-" said Mr, Carden. "What, have yon forgotten Mr. Little?" "'Indeed! Why. how he is dressed. I took him tin- a gentleman." " You were not very far wrong, papa. He ra a gentleman at heart." Juel caine in equipped for the ride. She was neatly dre-srd. nod bid a plum shepliird's-pliiid shawl, that suiied her noble bust. Slu looked a picture of henllb and hiippmcss. " If yon please, Miss, he is come to take me to Cairnliope." "Oh! it informal! And I declare you ex- ' ' Yes, " said Jae serve." She then went to kiss ber, but gave her cheek, instead of her lips, "There," said she, in rathe; n flurried way, "don't keep Mr. Little watting." Just as they drove off, Grace came to the win- dow, after a slight irresolniion, and kissed her hand to them cuchantinglv ■ at which a sudden flood of rapture rushed through Little's heart, and flushed hi. cheek, anil iired his dark eye : Grace ' caught its flash full in hers, and instinctively re- tired a step. They were off. " How bright and happy they look," said she (o her iaiher. Anil no wonder. She sat down, and, somehow, she felt singularly dull and lonely. Then she dressed for church, languidly. Then she went to church. By-and-by she came buck from church. Then she sat down, in her bonnet, and felt alone in the world, and sad ; and nt Inst she found lieix-lf onietlv en nig. as young ladies will some- times, without any visible cause. Then she asked herself what on earth she was crying about, and ber. elf told her she was a little hysterical fool, and wanted a good lieat- ing. Then she plucked up spirit, mid dried her eves. Then she took in yawning, and said Sunday wa- ft dull day, and life itself rather thing. Then a servant came to inquire " What, on Sunday ? Of coura jnch of asperity. .aid Gi do." the n than he do to i "Well, Jael, you needu you are going with Mr. Lit.. t . As a bone, put between two friem n growl, so when a handsome you on the scene, 1 have seen young littic of ihai luuniiigatetj sweetness, which mark- ed them a moment before. With Grace, however, lo snap and to repent gcni'rallv followed in a breath. "I hope you will have a lumpy day, dear, us happy as you de- CHAPTEH X. People that met Jael Dence and Henry Lit- tle driving to Caimhope were struck with their faces; hi, so dark, hers so fair, and both so hand- bat the woman's lit up with lively delight, 54 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. .% the man's clouded and sorrowful, and his brow knit with care. This very day he must take the lock off Cairnhope old Church, in spite of his un- cle Raby. He had got the requisite tools with him hidden in the gig ; but, even should he suc- ceed, it was but the first step of a difficult and, perhaps, dangerous enterprise ; and he was en- tering on it all with a heart no longer buoyed by hopeful love. But for his pledge to Mr. Cheet- ham, he could hardly have persisted in the strug- gle. As for Jael Dence, she had no great reason to be happy either : the man she loved loved anoth- er. Still he was kind to her, and they belonged to the same class ; she had a chance, and gleams of hope. And, after all, the future was uncer- tain, but the present certain : she had him to her- self for the day. She was close to him — so close, that she could feel him, — and he was driving her out, and to those who loved her : she basked in the present delight, and looked as if she was be- ing taken to heaven by an angel, instead of driv- en to Cairnhope by a gloomy young man, whom the passers-by envied, and wondered at his good luck in having such a companion. She talked to him, and got the short answers of an absent man. But she continued to make her little remarks oc- casionally, and, ere they reached Cairnhope, he found himself somehow soothed by her sex, her beauty, and her mellow, kindly voice. As they drove up to the farm-house, he told her to hide her face a moment, for they didn't know who it was. Martha ran out. "Y'are welcome, y'are wel- come; and so is your — Eh! Why it's our Jael. Tis no avail to hide thy face, thou jade ; I know jevery bit o' thee." And Patty had her out of the gig in a moment, and there was a cud- dling match it did one good to see. Henry perked up for a moment and offered a suggestion. " Some of that ought to come my way, for bringing her here." " Oh, you'll get enough o' that fun before you die, "said Patty. " Now come you in ; the cart- er's boy will take the horse." They went in and greeted the old farmer ; and soon the bell began to ring for church, and Na- than Dence told Martha to put on her bonnet. "La, father!" said she, piteously. "She prefers to stay at home and chat with Jael," said Henry. The fact is, he wanted to be rid of them both. Old Dence shook his head. He was one of those simple, grand, old rustic Christians, who have somehow picked out the marrow of religion, and left the devil the bone, yclept Theology. " What ?" said he, " my lasses ! can't ye spare Odd a slice out of his own day ?" " Nay, it is not that, father." The old man continued his remonstrance. * ' To be sure our Jael is a cordial. But she'll dine and sup with us. Take my word for't, all lawful pleas- ures are sweeter on the Lord's day after a bit o' church." " And so they are, father ; but dear heart ! to think of you forgetting. Will nobody tell him ? They're sworn to give me a red face, Jael and all. " This piteous appeal set Jael's wits working. " Eh, father, it will be the first of her banns !" "Is it me you are asking such a question?" cried Patty, and turned her head away with ab- surd mock-modesty. n And so 'tis," said Dence ; "ah, that is a dif- ferent thing." Henry thought that was no reason for Patty's staying at home ; she ought rather to go and hear the banns were cried all right. At this proposal both sisters lifted up their hands, and he was remonstrated with, and lectured, and at last informed that, if a girl was in church when her banns were cried, her children would be all born deaf and dumb. " Oh, indeed !" said Little, satirically. " That's a fact in natural history I was not aware of. Well, farmer, then let's you and I go by ourselves." So Patty staid at home, in obedience to rural superstition, and Jael staid to keep her company, and Farmer Dence went to church out of pi^y ; and as for Henry, to tell the truth, he went to church to escape the girls' tongues, and to be in a quiet, somniferous place, where he could think out his plans undisturbed. The men were no sooner gone, than the sisters began to gossip hard. "Eh, Jael, thou's gotten a prize." "Not as I know of." " I do adoie a dark young man." " So do I ; but this one is not mine." ' ' 111 take his word before thine. WTiy he calls thee his lass in his very letter." "Not he. Show me his letter." " What will ye give me ?" "Nay, Patty, pray show it me." "Well, and so I will." She brought her the letter. Jael read it and changed color, and was delighted for a moment or two ; but soon her good sense and humility prevailed. " Twas to surprise you, like. I do know he looks higher than me." " More fool he. But I don't believe it." "You may," said Jael, and turned the conver- sation to Patty's approaching marriage ; once launched in that direction, it flowed without inter- mission till the men returned, and dinner smoked upon the board. After dinner Henry watched an opportunity, and slipped out into the yard, got the tools out, put his great-coat over them, and away to Cairnhope Church. He knew better than go past Raby Hall to it : he went back towards Hillsborough, full three miles, and then turned off the road and got on the heather. He skirted the base of a heathery mound, and at last saw the church on an elevation before him, made for it incautiously over some boggy ground, and sank in up to his waist. He extricated himself with considerable diffi- culty, and cast a woeful look at his clothes. Then he turned to, and piled up a heap of stones to mark the dangerous spot ; for he fore- saw he must often travel that way in all weathers. At last he reached the church, removed the lock, and fastened the door with screws. He then went back to the farm as fast as he could. But all this had taken a longtime, and the sun was sink- ing as he got into the yard. He was in the very act of concealing the lock in the gig, when Mar- tha Dence came out at him, as red as a turkey- cock. " You thought but little of my sister, young man, to leave her all th&e hours, and you come out to spend the day with her." " Stuff and nonsense ! I came out on my own business." PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 55 u So it seems. And it have taken you into worse company. A fine figure she has made you. " "Who?" 44 The hussy you have been after this while." " That's so like you girls. You think a man has nothing to do but to run after women." 44 What business can you have on the Sabbath- day, I'd like to know." 4 * Would you ? Well, 111 tell you— when I tell the bellman." " You are quite right, Mr. Little. Trust none but friends." This was a bitter remark. Henrv could not reply to it, and that moved his bile. Patty pur- sued her advantage, and let him know that, when a young man brought a young woman out for the day, he did not leave her for three hours at a stretch, unless he meant to affront her. She raised her voice in saying this, and so did he in replying, 44 Tell you I came out on my own business, not Jael's ; but, I am a good-natured fellow, consid- ering all I endure, so I took that opportunity to bring your sister out to see you. Could I guess you two couldn't make yourselves happy for one afternoott without flirting? So much for sisterly affection ! Well, next time 111 come alone — if I come at all." Jael came out at the raised voices, and received this last sentence full in the face. She turned pale. 44 Oh, Patty, Patty, what have you been say- ing?" 44 I've been speaking my mind, that is all." 44 Ay, and you've made him say the only un- kind word I ever heard from his lips." 44 I'm very sorry, Jael," said the young man, penitently. 44 Oh, then I'm to blame, because he is so ill- tempered. " And Patty bridled. 44 Partly. You should not interfere between friends. " Having delivered this admonition, Jael softened it by kissing her, and whispered, 44 Fa- ther's asking for his tea." Patty went in as meek as Moses. Then Jael turned to Henry, and laid her hand on his arm, while her gray eyes searched his face. 44 There's something amiss. You are never cross, except when you are unhappy. What is it ?" 44 Oh, Jael, my heart is broken. She is going to be married." 44 Who says so?" 44 Mr. Cheetham told me she was engaged to a Mr. Coventry." 44 What can Mr. Cheetham know? To be sure the gentleman is a good deal with her, and I hear he has courted her this two years ; and she likes his company, that's certain. But she is used to be admired, and she is very hard to please. " 44 What, then, you think it is not quite hope- less ?" 44 While there's life, there's hope," 44 What had I better do ?" Nay, you shouldn't ask me." Oh, yes : you advised me so wisely about the insurance." 44 Ay, but then I saw it clear. He is purse- proud, and I knew he'd think a deal more of you if you insured your life for a vast o' money. But now I don't see clear ; and I'm loath to ad- vise. Happen you'd hate me afterwards if it went wrong." No, no, I wouldn't be so ungrateful. " a Jael shook her head, doubtfully. 44 Well, then," said Henry, 44 don't advise me ; but put yourself in my place. (I'll tell you a se- cret I daren't trust to Patty. I have found a way to beat the Trades, and make my fortune in a year or two.) Now what would you do, if you were me ?" This question raised a tumult in Jael's heart. But her strong will, her loyalty, and, above all, her patience, conquered, though not without signs of the struggle, a bosom that heaved some- what higher, and a low voice that trembled a little. 4 4 If I was a young man, I wouldn't shilly- shally, nor wait till I was rich, before I spoke. I'd have it out with her. I'd get her alone, and tell her all. Then, if she showed any sign of liking, I'd beg her to wait a bit, and say I'd soon be a gentleman for her sake. And if she cares nought for you, better know it, and leave her, than fare in heaven one hour and in hell the next, as I have seen thee do this while, my poor lad." " It is wise and good advice, and 111 take it. I've kept all my courage for the Trades ; I'd bet- ter have shown her a little. But there's one thing more I want to ask you." This was too much. Jael's courage and pa- tience failed her for once. " Keep it," she cried almost wildly. " I can't bear no more. There's not one lass in a hundred would do what I have done for you ; yet you want more. D'ye think I'm not flesh and blood, as well as her ? And she began to cry bitterly. This took Henry quite by surprise, and grieved him. He consoled her, and coaxed her, in vague terms, that did not produce any effect. So then he kissed her cheek, and dried her eyes with his own handkerchief, and that was not quite so in- effectual. She gave a finafcsob, and said, with some slight remains of passion, "There, there; never heed me. It takes a deal of patience to go through the world." And so she left him. He was not sorry to be alone a minute, and think. This short dialogue with Jael gave him some insight into female character. It made him suspect that he had been too timid with Grace Car- den, and also that there were two women in the game instead of one. When the time came to return he asked leave to borrow a horse-cloth. He aired it by the fire, and remarked that it had turned very cold. 44 Why," said Patty, " you have got your top- coat. Well, you are a son one." 44 And you are a sharp one," said Henry^ ironi- cally. When Jael came to the gig, Henry put tljaf cloth over her shoulders. " 'Twatn't for me, ye* see," said he : * 4 'twas for my betters." 44 1 like you for that," said Patty. Then there was much kissing, and shaking of hands, and promising to come again, and away they drove to Hillsborough. On the road Henry, for the first time, was very respectful, as well as kind, to JaeL She was soft and gentle, but rather silent and reserved. They parted at the door of " Woodbine Villa." 1 Next day, Henry called early, and found "Mass Carden alone. His heart beat tumultuouslv. She was very gracious, and hoped he had spent a pleas- ant day yesterday. 44 Pretty well." 56 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. "Is that all? Why I quite envied you your ride, and your companion." " She is a very good girl." " She is something more than that : but one does not find her out all at once." Now it was Henry's turn. But he was flustered, and thinking how he should begin. And, while he hesitated, the lady asked him was he come to finish the bust. 44 No. I didn't come for that. I will finish it though. " And thus he was diverted from his pur- pose, for the moment. He took a carving tool, and eyed his model, but soon laid down the tool, and said : "I haven't thanked you yet. And I don't know how to thank you." 44 What for?" 44 For what you sent to Mr. Cneetham." 44 Oh!" said Grace, and blushed. Then she turned it off, and said she thought if any body ought to thank her for that, it was Mr. Cheetham. 4 4 Ay, for the order. But the sweet words that came with it ? Do you think I don't prize them above all the orders in the world T* She colored high again. * ' What I did he show you my note ?" 44 He did: and that has made me his friend. Shall I tell you the effect of those words on me ?" 44 No ; never mind. But I'm glad I put them in, if they did you any good." 44 Any good ? They made me a new man. I was defeated by the Trades : I was broken-heart- ed : and I hated every body. Good Doctor Am- boyne had set me work to do ; to save the lives of my fellow-creatures. But I couldn't ; I hated them so. The world had been too unjust to me, I could not return it good for evil. My heart was full of rage and bittejjpess." 4 4 That's a great pity — at your age. But really it is no wonder. Yes ; you have been cruelly used. ' And the water stood in Grace's eyes. 44 Ay, but it is all over; those sweet words of yours made a man of me again. They showed me you cared a little for me. Now I have found a way to outwit the Trades. Now I'm on the road to fortune. I won't be a workman this time next year. I'll be a master, and a thriving one." 44 Ay, do, do. Beat them, defeat them ; make them scream with envy. But I am afraid you are too sanguine." 44 No ; I can do it, if you will only give me an- other word of hope to keep me going : and oh, I need it, if you knew all." Grace began to look uneasy. 44 Mr. Little, can you doubt that you have my best wishes ?" said she, guardedly, and much less warmly than she had spoken just before. 44 No, I don't doubt that ; but what I fear is, that, when I have gained the hard battle, and risen in the world, it will be too late. Too late." Grace turned more and more uncomfortable. 44 Oh, pray wait a few months, and see what I can do, before you — " Will it be believed that Mr. Carden, who sel- dom eame into this room at all, must walk in, just at this moment, and interrupt them? He was too occupied with his own affairs, to pay much .attention to their faces, or perhaps he might have asked himself why the young man was so pale, ' and his daughter so red. 44 1 heard you were here, Little, and I want to speak to you on a matter of some importance." Grace took this opportunity, and made her es- cape from the room promptly. Henry, burning inwardly, had to listen politely to a matter he thought pitiably unimportant com- pared with that which had been broken off. But the 44 Gosshawk " had got him in its clutches ; and was resolved to make him a decoy duck. He was to open a new vein of Insurances. Workmen had hitherto acted with great folly and imprudence in this respect, and he was to cure them, by precept as well as example. Henry assented, to gratify a person whose good- will he might require, and to get rid of a bore. But that was not so easy ; the 44 Gosshawk " was full of this new project, and had a great deal to say, before he came to the point, and offered Henry a percentage on the yearly premium of every work- man that should be insured in the 44 Gosshawk." This little bargain struck, Henry was left alone ; and waited for the return of Mies Carden. He was simple enough to hope she would come back, and have it out with him. She kept carefully out of his way, and, at last, he went sadly home. 44 Ah," said he, " Jael gave me bad advice. I have been premature, and frightened her." He would go to work his own way again. In forty-eight hours he moved into his new house, furnished it partly : bought a quantity of mediocre wood-carving, and improved it; put specimens in his window, and painted his name over the door. This, at his mother's request and tearful entreaties, he painted out again, and sub- stituted 44 Rowbotham." Nor was Rowbotham a mere nom de plume. It was the real name of Silly Billy. The boy had some turn for carving, but was quite uncultivated : Henry took him into his employ, fed him, and made free with his name. With all this he found time to get a key made to fit the lock of Cairn- hope old Church. At one o'clock on Thursday morning he came to Cheetham's works, and scratched at the gate. A big workman opened it. It turned out to be Cheetham himself, in a moleskin suit, and a long beard. The forge on wheels was all ready, also a cart containing anvil, bellows, hammers, pincers, leath- ern buckets, and a quantity of steel laths. They attached the forge to the tail of the cart, and went on their silent expedition. Cheetham drove the cart. Henry followed afar off until they had cleared the suburbs. They passed 44 Woodbine Villa." A single light was burning. Henry eyed it wistfully, and loitered long to look at it. Something told him that light was in her bedroom. He could hardly tear himself away from contemplating it : it was his pole-star. There was only one great difficulty in their way ; a man on a horse might cross the moor, but a cart must go by 44 Raby Hall" to reach the church : and, before they got within a furlong •of the Hall, a watch-dog began to bark. 44 Stop, sir," whispered Henry. 4t I expected this." He then produced some pieces of thick felt, and tied them with strings round the wheels. They then drove by the house as fast as they could. They did not deceive the dogs ; but no man heard them, nor saw them. They got to the church, opened the door, and drew the forge into the deserted building. PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 57 As soon as they got inside, Cheetham cast his eyes round and gave a shudder. " You must have a stout heart : no money should tempt me to work here by myself. Lord ! What's that ?" For a low musical moan was heard. Cheetham darted back, and got to the church- door. Henry's heart beat faster : but the lighted his lantern, and went up the aisle. The place was solemn, grim, gaunt, and mouldering, and echoed strangely ; but it was empty. He halloed to his companion that it was all right. Then they set the forge up near a pillar at the entrance into the chancel. When they had done this, and brought in the. steel laths, the sacks of coals, etc., Cheetham produced a flask, and took a pull of neat brandy. This gave him courage, and he proposed to have a look round before they went. Accordingly they inspected the building. When they came round to the chancel, sudden- ly there was a rattle, and a tremendous rush of some huge thing that made a cold wind, and blew out the light. Henry was appalled, and Cheetham dropped the lantern, and ran, yelling. And soon Heniy heard his voice in the churchyard calling on him to come out. He did go out, and felt very much puzzled and alarmed. However, he got matches from Cheet- ham, and went back, and lighted the lantern, quaking a little, and then he found that the great mouldering picture over the altar had rotted away from some of its supports, and one half of it was now drooping, like a monstrous wing, over the altar. He returned 'with the lantern, and told Cheet- ham what it was. Then he screwed on the lock, locked the church, and they went back to Hills- borough in good spirits. But, as he lay in bed, Henry thought the mat- ter over, and, for the first time in his life, felt su- perstitious. "It is very odd," he said, "that old picture my forefathers have worshipped under, and prayed to, no doubt, should flap out in my face like that, the moment I offered to set up my forge among their dead bones." Daylight dispersed these superstitious feelings, and the battle began. As usual, the first step towards making money, was to part with it. He could do nothing with- out a horse and a light cart. In Hillsborough they drive magnificent horses in public cabs: Henry knew one in particular, that had often spun up the steepest hills with him ; a brute of pro- digious bone and spirit. He bought this animal for a moderate price, considering his value : and then the next thing was — and indeed with some of us it precedes the purchase of the animal — to learn to ride. He had only two days to acquire this accom- plishment in : so he tdok a compendious method. He went to the circus, at noon, and asked to see the clown. A gloomy fellow was fished out of the nearest public, and inquired what he wanted. "The clown." Well, I am the clown." What ! you the merry chap that makes the fun ?" said Henry, incredulouslv. "I make the ran at night, ' r replied the man, dolefully. ' * If you want fun out of me, come aud pay your shilling, like a man." it "But it isn't fun I'm come for. I want to learn to v ride." "Then you are too old. Why, we begin as soon as we can stand on a horse's back." "Oh, I don't mean to ride standing. I want to sit a horse, rearing, or plunging, or blundering over rough ground." *' What will you stand ?" "A sovereign." The clown dived into the public-house, and told a dark seedy man, with his black hair plastered and rolled effeminately, that he had got a bloke who would stand a quid for a mount. The two came •» out, and the plastered Italian went to the stables : % the melancholy punster conducted Henry into the arena, and stood beside him, like Patience on a monument. Presently a quiet mare ran in, and stuck. Henry was mounted, and cantered her round, the two men instinctively following in a smaller circle, with jaws as long as your arm. "This is delightful," said Henry; "but I might as well be sitting in a chair. What I want is a Prancer." Then they brought him another horse, just as docile as the mare. The obedient creature, at a signal, reared suddenly, and seated Mr. Little on the sawdust behind him. A similar result was attained several times, by various means. But Henry showed himself so tough, courageous, and persistent, that he made great progress, and his good-humor won his preceptors. They invited^ him to come to-morrow, at an earlier hour, and* bring half a quid with him. He did so, and this time there was an American rider rehearsing, who showed Henry what to do, and what not to do ; and gave him a most humorous and instructive lesson. Indeed, his imitations of bad riding were so truthful and funny, that even the clown was surprised into one laugh ; he who rarely smiled, unless in the way of business. "Well, sir," said Henry, "you have given me a good lesson ; now take a hint from me ; just you go and do all this before the public ; for I never saw you do any thing half so droll." They all three shook their heads with one ac- cord. Go out of the beaten track, before an audience? Never. Such vagaries were only admissible in private. After this second day the fee was reduced to a gallon of ale. But, on the third day, the pupil combined the- ory with practice. He told his mother he was going to Cairnnope for the night. He then rode off to Cairnhope church. He had two large sad- dle-bags, containing provisions, and tools of all sorts. He got safe accoss the moor just before sunset. He entered the church, led the horse in with him, and put him into the Squire's pew. He then struck a light, went into the chancel, and looked at the picture. It was as he had left it ; half on the wall, half drooping over the altar- place. The walls were dank, and streaked here and there with green. His footsteps echoed, and the edifice was all dark, except within the rays of his lantern ; it also sang and moaned in a way to be accounted for by the action of the wind on a number of smail apertures ; but, nevertheless. • it was a most weird and ghostly sound. He was glad of the companionship of his very horse. He took his buckets to the mountain stream, and, in due course, filled his trough, and left one *+%: -2b 58 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLAQE. bucket full for other uses. He then prepared and lighted his forge. As he plied the bellows, and the coals gleamed brighter and brighter, monumental figures came out and glared at him ; mutilated inscriptions wavered on the walls ; por- tions of the dark walls themselves gleamed in the full light, and showed the streaks and stains of age and weather, and the shadow of a gigantic horses head ; and, as the illuminated part seem- ed on fire by contrast, so the dark part of the church was horribly black and mysterious, and a place out of which a ghost or phantom might be expected, at any moment, to come forth into that brilliant patch of light. Young Little, who had entered on this busi- ness in all the skepticism of the nineteenth cen- tury, felt awed, and began to wish he had select- ed any other building in the world but this. He seemed to be desecrating a tomb. However, he mustered up his manly resolution. He looked up at a small aperture in the roof, and saw a star glittering above : it seemed close, and a type of that omniscient eye " from which no secrets are hid." He clasped his hands together, and said, " I hope God, who has seen me driven from the haunts of men, will forgive me for taking refuge here ; and, if he does, I don't care who else is offended, alive or dead." And, with this, he drew the white-hot strip of steel from the forge on to the anvil, and down came his hammer with a blow that sent the fiery steel flying all round, and rang and echoed through the desolate building. In- stantly there was a tremendous plunge and clat- ter, followed by a shaking sound, and, whiz, the church was fanned by black wings going zigzag. "Ten thousand devils!" yelled Henry, and heaved the hammer high, in his own defense. But it was only the horse plunging and quiv- ering with fear, and a score of bats the blow of the hammer had frightened out of the rotten pul- pit. He resumed work with a beating heart, and the building rang and echoed and re-echoed with the rapid blows ; and no more interruption came. The nineteenth century conquered. After four hours of earnest work, he fed his horse, ate a slice of bread and meat, drank water from the bucket, gave his horse some, and went to sleep in the pew beside that useful animal. Back to Hillsborough, at peep of day, with the blades he had forged. He now took his mother, in a greatpieasure, into his confidence, under a strict promise to tell no- body, not even Doctor Amboyne. Mrs. Little received the communication in a way that both surprised and encouraged him. She was as wil- ling to outwit the Unions, as she was unwilling to resist them openly ; and Henry found her an ad- mirable coadjutor. Had she known where Henry had set up his forge, she would have been very unhappy. But he merely told her it was in a secluded place, near Cairnhope, where he could never be de- tected. The carving business, being merely a blind, was not pushed. But Henry gave his apprentice, Billy, instruction, and the youth began to show an aptitude which contrasted remarkably with his general incapacity. Mrs. Little paid one or two visits to factories, to see what women cotild do in this sort of work : and, one day, she told Henry she was sure she could sharpen and finish the blades. "No, mother," said Henry. "You are a lady. I can't have you made a slave of, and your beau- tiful white hands spoiled." " I shall be happier, helping you, dear ; and I won't spoil my hands, since you care about them." She insisted on a trial, and soon acquired a re- markable knack : she had a fine light hand : and it is an art easily learned by an attentive and careful woman. Indeed they can beat the men at it, if they will only make up their minds. And so the enterprise was launched, and con- ducted thus ; in the day time, Henry showed him- self in the town, and talked big about caning , and, in the afternoon, he rode out, and did the real work of his life, over the dead bodies of his ancestors. His saddle-bags were always full, and, gradual- ly, he collected some comforts about him in the deserted church. He called, more than once, at "Woodbine Villa," but Miss Carden was on a visit. He was in the full career of fortune again, and sanguine of success, before they met. One day, having ascertained from Jael, what day she would be at home, he called, and was admitted. The room was empty, but Miss Carden soon came into it, accompanied by Jael carrying the bust. "Ah, Mr. Little," said she, before he could possibly utter a word, "this is fortunate. There is a party here on Thursday, and I want to show | the bust complete, if you don't mind." Henry said he would finish it for her. He ac- cordingly set to work, and waited quietly till Jael should leave the room, to have it out with Grace. She, for her part, seemed to have forgotten his strange manner to her the other day; perhaps she chose to forget it, or overlook it. But Henry observed that Jael was not allowed to quit the room. Whatever Miss Carden wanted she fetch- ed herself, and came back softly, and rather sud- denly, as if she had a mind to surprise Jael and the other too. Female subtlety was clearly at work. "What do you advise me?" said Henry to Jael, during one of these intervals. Jael never lifted her eyes from her work, and spoke under her breath, "I think I'd be patient to-day. She must give you a chance to speak some day. Talk to me, when she comes back — about the Cairnhope folk, or any thing." Henry followed this advice, and Grace, for the first time, found herself a little ignored in the con- versation. She was astonished at this and I don't think she quite liked it. Henry was still going on with warmth and volu- bility about the Cairnhope folk, their good hearts, and their superstitions, when a visitor was an- nounced. "Mr. Coventry." Henry stopped in the middle of a sentence. Grace brightened up, and said she was at home. Mr. Coventry entered the room ; a tall, well- made man, with an aquiline nose, and handsome face, only perhaps there were more lines in it than he was entitled to at his age, for he was barely thirty. He greeted Miss Carden with easy grace, and took no more notice of the other two, than if they were chairs and tables. Mr. Frederick Coventry had studied the great art of pleasing, and had mastered it wonderfully ; PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 59 but he was not the man to waste it indiscrimi- nately. He was there to please a young lady, to whom he was attached, not to diffuse his sun- shine indiscriminately. He courted her openly, not indelicately, but with a happy air of respect and self-assurance. Henry sat, sick with jealousy, and tried to work and watch ; but he could only watch : his hand trembled too much to work. What may be called oblique flattery is very pleasing to those quick-witted girls, who have had a surfeit of direct compliments : and it is oblique flattery, when a man is supercilious and distant to others, as well as tender and a little obsequious to her he would please. Grace Carden enjoyed this oblique flattery of Mr. Coventry's all the more that it came to her just at a moment when her companions seemed disposed to ignore her. She rewarded Mr. Cov- entry accordingly, and made Henry Little's heart die within him. His agony became intolerable. What a position was his ! Set there, with a chisel in his hand, to copy the woman he loved, while another man wooed her before his face, and she smiled at his wooing. At last his chisel fell out of his hand, and star- tled every body : and then he rose up with pale cheek, and glittering eyes, and Heaven only knows what he was going to do or say. But at that moment another visitor was announced, to whom indeed the door was never closed. He entered the next moment, and Grace ran to meet him, crying, " Oh, Mr. Raby ! this is a surprise." Mr. Raby kissed her, and shook hands with Mr. Coventry. He then said a kind word to Jael Dence, who got up and courtesied to him. He cast* a careless glance on Henry and the bust, but said nothing. He was in a hurry, and soon came to the object of his visit. " My dear," said he, " the last time I saw you, you said you were sorry that Christmas was no longer kept in Hillsborough as it used to be." " And so I am." " Well, it is kept in Cairnhope, thank Heaven, pretty much as it was three centuries ago. Your father will be in London, I hear ; will you honor my place and me with a visit during the Christ- mas holidays?" Grace opened her eyes with astonishment. " Oh, that I will," said she, warmly. " You will take your chance of being snowed up?" "lam afraid I shall not be so fortunate," was the charming reply. The Squire turned to Coventry, and said slyly, " I would ask you to join us, sir ; but it is rath- er a dull place for a gentleman who keeps such good company." " I never heard it spoken of as a dull place be- fore," said the young man ; "and, if it was, you have taken a sure means to make it attractive." " That is true. Well, then, I have no scru- ple in asking you to join us ;" and he gave Grace a look, as much as to say, " Am I not a consid- erate person ?" "I am infinitely obliged to you, Mr. Raby," said Coventry, seriously ; "I will come." " You will stay to luncheon, godpapa ?" " Never touch it. Good-bye. Well, then, Christmas-eve I shall expect you both. Dinner at six. But come an hour or two before, if you can : and Jael, my girl, you know you must dine at the hall on Christmas-eve, and old Christmas-eve as usual, you and your sister and the old man." Jael courtesied, and said with homely cordiali- ty, " We shall be there, sir, please God we are alive." " Bring your gun, Coventry. There's a good sprinkling "of pheasants left. By-the-by, what about that pedigree of yours ; does it prove the point ?" "Completely. Dorothy Raby, Sir Richard's youngest sister, married Thomas Coventry, who was out in the forty-five. I'm having the pedi- gree copied for you, at a stationer's near." " I should like to see it." "Ill go with you, and show it to you, if you Mr. Raby was evidently pleased at this atten- tion, and they went off together. Grace accompanied them to the door. On her return she was startled by the condition of young Little. This sudden appearance of his uncle, whom he hated, had agitated him not a little, and that un- cle's interference had blasted his last hope. He recognized this lover, and had sided with him : was going to shut the pair up, in a country-house, together. It was too much. He groaned, and sank back in his chair, almost fainting, and his hands began to shake in the air, as if he was in an ague. Both the women darted simultaneously to- wards him. " Oh ! he s fainting !" cried Grace. "Wine! wine! Fly." Jael ran out to fetch some, in spite of a despairing gesture by which the young man tried to convey to her it was no use. " Wine can do me no good, nor death no harm. Why did I ever enter this house ?" " Oh, Mr. Little, don't look so ; don't talk so," said Grace, turning pale, in her turn. " Are you ill ? What is the matter ?" "Oh, nothing. What should ail me? I'm only a workman. What business have I with a heart ? I loved you dearly. I was working for you, fight- ing for you, thinking for you, living for you. And you love that Coventry, and never showed it." Jael came in with a glass of wine for him, but he waved her off with all the grandeur of despair. "You tell me this to my face!" said Grace, haughtily ; but her bosom panted. " Yes ; I tell you so to your face. I love you, , with all my souL" " How dare you ? What have I ever done, to justify — Oh, if you weren't so pale, I'd give you a lesson. What could possess you ? It's not my fault, thank heaven. You have insulted me, sir. No ; why should I ? You must be unhap- py enough. There, 111 say but one word, and that, of course, is * good morning.' " Arid she marched out of the room, trembling secretly in every limb. Henry sat down, and hid his face, and all his frame shook. Then Jael was all pity. She threw herself on her knees, and kissed his trembling hands with canine fidelity, and wept on his shoulder. He took her hand, and tried hard to thank her, but the words were choked. Grace Carden opened the door, and put her head cautiously in, for she wanted to say a word to Jael without attracting Henry's attention. But, when she saw Jael and Henry in so loving iU 'm GO PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. an attitude, she started, and then turned as red us fire ; and presently burst out laughing. Jael and Henry separated directly. Grace laughed again, an unpleasant laugh. " I beg pardon, good people. I only wanted Mr. Lit- tle's address. I thought you could get it for me, Jael. And now I'm sure you can. Ha ! ha ! ha!" And she was heard laughing after the door closed. Now there was a world of contempt and inso- lence in this laugh. It conveyed, as plainly as words, " I was going to be so absurd as to believe in your love, and pity it, at all events, though I can't approve it : but now you have just set my mind at ease. Ha! ha! ha!" " Let me go," cried Henry, wildly. " Nav, tell me your address." " What for ? To tell that cruel— laughing— " '* Nay then, for myself." "That's a different thing. I respect you. But her, I mean to'hate, as much as I loved her." He gave Jael his address, and then got out of the house as fast as he could. That evening Grace Carden surprised her father, by coming into his study. "Papa, "said she, "I am come to ask a favor. "Ylm must not refuse me. Hut I don't know that you ever did. Dearest, I want £50." 41 Well, my child ; just tell me what it is for." " It is for Mr. Little ; for his lessons. " "Well, but £50!" " He has given me a good many. And to tell you the truth, papa, I dismissed him rather un- ceremoniously ; and now I should be glad to soft- en the blow a little, if I can. Do be very good and obedient, dear papa, and write what I shall dictate. Please /" "Well, spoiled child : who can resist you?" Then Grace dictated, and Mr. Carden wrote : "Dear Sir, — My daughter informs me that, as yet, you have received no remuneration for the lessons you have given her. I beg your accept- ance of the enclosed check and, at the same time, should be glad if you would put a price on the ad- mirable bust you have executed of her. " Yours obediently, Walter Carden." The reply to this letter surprised Mr. Carden, so that he brought it to Grace, and showed it her. " Dear Sir, — The lessons are not worth speaking of. I have learnt more in your house than I taught. I beg to return the check with thanks. Price of the bust, five hundred guineas. " Yours obediently, Henry Little." Grace colored up, andher eyes sparkled. ' * That young man wants humbling." * * I don't see that, really. He is very civil, and I presume this five hundred guineas is just a po- lite way of saying that he means to keep it. Wants it for an advertisement, eh ?" Grace smiled and bit her lip. " Oh, what a man of business you are !" And a little while af- ter the tears came into her eves. " Madman !" said she to herself. *fHe won't let me be his friend. Well, I can't help it." After the brief excitement of this correspond- ence, Little soon relapsed into dull misery. His mother was alarmed, and could restrain herself no longer. She implored his confidence : "Make me the partner of your grief, dear, " she said ; i ' not that you can tell me any thing I have not guessed already ; but, dearest, it will do you good to open your heart ; and, who knows, I may assist you. I know my sex much better than you do." Henry kissed' her sadly, and said it was too late now. "It is all over. She is going to many another man." " Has she told you so?" " Not in words ; but I have seen it. She has burnt it into my heart." "I wish I knew her," said Mrs. Little, very earnestly, and almost in a whisper. " Some day, mother, some day ; but not now. Oh, the tortures one heart can suffer, and yet not break." Mrs. Little sighed. " What, not even tell me her name ?" 4 ' I can't, I can't. Oh, mother, you mean well, but you will drive me mad." Mrs. Little forbore to press him further just then. She sat silent at her work, and he at his. till they were aroused by a fly drawing up at the door. A fine young woman got out, with something heavy, and holding it like a child on one aim, rapped at the door with the hand that was disen- gaged. Mrs. Little opened the door to her, and she and Jael Dence surveyed each other with calm but searching eyes. " If you please, ma'am, does Mr. Little bide here?" Mrs. Little said yes, with a smile : for Jael's face and modesty pleased her at first sight. " I have something for him." "Ill give it to him." " If you please, ma'am, I was to give it him myself." Henry recognized the voice, opened the door, and invited her in. Mrs. Little followed her, full of suppressed curiosity. This put Jael out, but she was too patient to show it. "It is the bust," said she; and put it softly down on the table with her strong arms. Henry groaned. " She despises even that ; she flings it at my head without a word." " Nay ; I have got a note for you." "Then why didn't you give it me at once ?" cried Henry impatiently. She handed him the noje without a word. It ran thus : • * i " Miss Carden presents her compliments to Mr. Little, and sends him tfre beautiful bust. She is grieved that he will, accept no remuneration for his lessons ; and begs permission to offer her best wishes for his happiness and prosperity." The gentleness of this disarmed Henry, and at the same time the firmness crushed him. " It is all over !" he cried, despairingly : " and yet I can't hate her." He ran from the room, unable to restrain his tears* and too proud and fiery to endure two spectators of his grief. Mrs. Little felt as mothers feel towards those who wound their young. PUT YOURSELF IS HIS l'L.KT. And Jnel began to undo face: a Cairnhope iace. My child, you remind sue of liavs p.w. hv. Conn: uiu! -i-o ro<- ii^iiiu, will you? Then I shall be more able to talk to you quietly." "Ay, that I will, ma'am." And Jnel colored :il I ovorwiili -^i-|iri-c. mid smli nnili.-tfuiscd pleas- ure that Mrs. Little kissed her ut parting. I couldn't bear tlie sight of a face that has brought misery upon him. I would rather look at yours. It is n very liuncst one. May I in- 4'.,iri' your name?" " .Liol Denoc — At your sen-ice." " Donee I nh, then no wonder you have a good She had been gone a considerable time, when Henry came brick: he found his mother soared at the table, eying bis masterpiece with stern and bitter scrutiny. It was a picture, those two rare faces in such fliM' oiijiwiiion. The caned fnce seemed alive ; (52 PUT YOUKSELF IN HIS PLACE. but the living face seemed inspired, and to ex- plore the other to the bottom with merciless sever- ity. At such work the great female eye is almost terrible in its power. "It is lovely," said she. "It seems noble. I can not find what I know must be there. Oh, whv does God give such a face as this to a fool r ' ' Not a word against her, " said Henry. "She is as wise, and as noble, and as good, as she is beautiful. She has but one fault ; she loves an- other man. Put her sweet face away ; hide it from me till I am an old man, and can bring it out to* show young folks why I lived and die a bachelor. Good-bye, dear mother, I must saddle Black Harry, and away to my night's work." The days were very short now, and Henry spent two-thirds of his time in Cairnhope Church. The joyous stimulus of his labor was gone, but the habit remained, and carried him on in a sort of leaden way. Sometimes he wondered at him- self for the hardships he underwent merely to make money, since money had no longer the same charm for him ; but a good workman is a patient, enduring creature, and self-indulgence, our habit, is after all, his exception. Henry worked heavily on, with his sore, sad heart, as many a workman had done before him. Unfor- tunately his sleep began to be broken a good deal. I am not quite clear whether it was the after-clap of the explosion, or the prolonged agitation of his young heart, but at this time, instead of the pro- found sleep that generally rewards the sons of toil, he had fitful slumbers, and used to dream strange dreams, in that old chtujeh, so full of gaunt sigh ts and strange sounds. And, generally speak- ing, however these dreams began, the figure of Grace Garden would steal in ere he awoke. ' His senses, being only half asleep, colored his dreams ; he heard her light footstep in the pattering rain, and her sweet voice in the musical moan of the desolate building ; desolate as his heart when he awoke, and behold it was a dream. The day after Christmas-day began brightly, but was dark and lowering towards afternoon. Mrs. Little- ad vised Henry to stay at home. But he shook his head. " How could I get through the night ? Work is my salvation. But for my forge, I should perhaps end like — " he was going to say "my poor father." Bat he had the sense to stop. Unable to keep him at home, the tender moth- er got to his saddle-bags, and filled his flask with brandy, and packed up a huge piece of Yorkshire pie, and even stuffed in a plaid shawl. And she strained her anxious eyes after him as he rode off. When he got among the hills, he found it was snowing there very hard; and then, somehow, notwithstanding all the speed he made, it was near- ly dark when he got on the moor, and the tracks he used to go by, over the dangerous ground, were effaced. He went a snail's pace, and at last dismounted, and groped his way. He got more than one fall in the snow, and thought himself very fortunate, when, at last, something black towered before him, and it was the old church. The scene was truly dismal: the church was already overburdened with snow, and still the huge flakes fell fast and silently, and the little mountain stream, now swollen to a broad and foaming torrent, went roaring by, behind the churchyard wall. Henry shivered, and made for the shelter. The horse, to whom this church was merely a well-ventilated stable, went in and clattered up the aisle, saddle-bags and all. Henry locked the door inside, and soon blew the coals to a white heat. The bellows seemed to pant unnaturally loud, all was so deadly still. The windows were curtained with snow, that increased the general gloom, though some of the layers shone ghostly white and crystalline, in the light of the forge, and of two little grates he had set in a monument. Two heaps of snow lay in the centre aisle, just under two open places in the roof, and, on these, flakes as big as a pennypiece kept falling through the air, and glittered like diamonds as they passed through the weird light of the white coals. Oh ! it was an appalling place, that night ; youth and life seemed intruders. Henry found it more than he could bear. He took a couple of candles, placed them in bottles, and carried them to the western window, and there lighted them. This one window was protected by the remains of iron-work outside, and the whole figure of one female saint in colored glass survived. This expedient broke the devilish blackness, and the saint shone out glorious. The horrid spell thus broken in some degree, Henry plied his hammer, and made the church ring, and the flaming metal fly. But by-and-by, as often happened to him now, a drowsiness overcame him at the wrong time. In vain he battled against it. It conquered him even as he worked ; and, at last, he leaned with his arms against the handle of the bellows, and dosed as he stood. He had a dream of that kind which we call a vision, because the dream seems to come to the dreamer where he is. He dreamed he was there at his forge, and a soft voice called to him. He turned, and lo! between him and the western window stood six fe- male figures, all dressed in beautiful dressed, but of another age, and of many colors, yet transpar- ent ; and their faces fair, but white as snow : and the ladies courtesied to him, with a certain respectful majesty beyond description : and, some- how, by their faces, and their way of courtesying to him, he knew they were women of his own race, and themselves aware of the relationship. Then several more such figures came rustling softly through the wall from the churchyard, and others rose from the vaults and took their places quietly, till there was an avenue of dead beauties ; and they stood in an ascending line up to the west window. Some stood on the ground, some on the air ; that made no difference to them. Another moment, and then a figure more love- ly than them all shone in the window, at the end of that vista of fair white faces. It was Grace Carden. She smiled on him and said, " I am going where I can love you. There the world can not divide us. Follow me; follow; follow!" Then she melted away ; then all melted : and he awoke with a loud, cry that echoed through the edifice, now dark and cold as the grave ; and a great white owl went whirling, and with his wings made the only air that stirred. .The fire was out, and the place a grave. Yet, PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. g:i cold as it was, tlic dreamer was bathed in perspi- ration, so clear had been that unearthly vision, si glumly was now that flitting owl. Shuddering nil over, lie lighted his tire again, mi ! ['lied hi- bellnw-i with fury, till tin: sir.:; ^.i»- i:l brighter than c'.er ; and even then lie prayed aloud that he might never see the like again, own in a dream. He worked like mad, and Ilia hand trembled a> he struck. lire he had thoroughly recovered the shock, s wild cry arose outside. lie started back, awe-struck. What wirli the time, the jilitccs, ;md that strange vision, the boundaries o:' ihe natural and the peridural v,vrv a 1:1 lie cnufii-cd in his mind. " Help, help !" cried a voii-e ; and now the fa- miliar time of that voice made liim utter a loud tie searched for the key, and made his way to the door ; Imt, just as he began to insert the key, the voice was at the door outside. "Oh, save me! A dying girl ! Save me!" The cry was now a moan, and the next mo- lueni an inert mass fell like lead against the door in a vain attempt to knock at it. The voice wa. Grace Garden's, and it was Grace (.'anh'ii's body that fell so inc.1 and power- less against the church-door, within a yard of Henry Little's band. CHAPTER XI. Os the twenty .fourth of December Miss Car- den and Jael Deuce drove to Cairnhope village, iiinl stopped at the farm; hut Nathan and his ille-t daughter had already gone up to the Hall; .so they waited there lail a minute or two to light the carriage lamps, and then went on up I he hill. It was pitch dark when. they reached the house. Inside, one of Mr. Rain's servants was on the look-out for the sound ol" wheels, and the visitors had no need to knock or ring; this was a point of lioiinr with the master ol' the mansion ; when lie did invite pc-ple, the. house opened i;s anus; even as they drove up, open Hew the great hall- door, and an enormous five inside Mazed in their faces, an. I shot its Hume beyond tbeiu oat into the night. Grace alighted, and was about to enter the house, when Jael stopped her, and said, "Oh, Mi-s, you will be going in led font foremost. Pray don't do that : it is so unlucky." Grace laughed, hut changed her fun;, and enter- ed a lofty hall, hung with helmets, pikes, breast- plates, bows, cioss-hoivs, antlers, etc., etc. Op- jiosite lier was the imeient chimney- piece and ingle- nook, with no grate, but two huge iron dogs, sat five fee: apart ; and on theia lay a birch log ami roiir, [lie size of u man, wit 1 1 a do/en beech bidets, unfiling briskly and crackling underiieuih and aside it. This genial furnace wanned the staircase and passages, and east a fiery glow out on tlie carnage, ami glorified the -loci helmets and breast - plates of the dead Rabies or) the walls, and the sparkling eyes of the two beautiful women who now stund opposite it in the pride of their youth, and were wanned to the heart In- its crackle and glow. "(lb! what a glorious fire, this bitter night. Why, I never saw such " It is the yule log, Miss. Ay, and you might go all round England, and not find it- fellow, [ trow. But our Squire lie don't go to the chan- dler's shop lor his yule log, bui in his own woods, and lells a great tree." A housemnid now came forward with lieil- candks, to show Mi.-- Cardcn to her room. Grace was going up, as a matter of coarse, when Jael, base helping- the footman with her Iioncs, called after her : '■ The -leaking. Miss I the sun king !"' mce» looked down at her feet in surprise. There it is, hung up by the door. We ', put our presents into it before we go up '■.Mas! w "Oh, 8 ■hah y ei-ouiicd sixpence." Grace examined her purse, and complained that all her stupid sixpences were straight. "Nevermind, Miss; [ail in a hair-pin, sooner than |.a-s the stocking ,>' ( hristtnus Eve." Grace had come prepared to encounter old itoms. She offered her shawl-pin : and Jael, o bad modestly in.-crted her own gift, pinned Grace's offering on the outside uf rhe stocking ' :h a flush of pride. Then I hey went up stairs :h the servant, and Grace was ushered into a bedroom of vast size, with two tires burning at each end; each fireplace was Hanked with a coal- scuttle full of kennel coal in large lumps-, nnd also will; an enormous basket nf beech billets. She admired Mi.- ■■ihl-fa-hioiicu furniture, am: said, "Oh, what a palace of a bedroom! This will spoil me for my little poky room. Here one can roam about and have great thoughts, Hillsbor- ough, good-hve! 1 end my days iu the coun- try." Presently her quick ear caught the rattle of swift wheels upon the hard road : she run to the window, and peeped behind the curtain. Two brilliant lamps were in sight, and drew nearer and dog-cart come up to the door. Before it had well nearer, like great goggling eyes, and soon u neat 64 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. stopped, the hospitable door flew open, and the yule fire shone on Mr. Coventry, and his natty groom, and his dog-cart with plated axles ; it il- lumined the silver harness, and the roan horse himself, and the breath that poured into the keen air from his nostrils red inside. Mr. Coventry dropped from his shoulders, with easy grace, something between a coat and a cloak, lined throughout with foxes' skins ; and, alight- ing, left his groom to do the rest. The fur was reddish, relieved with occasional white; and Grace gloated over it, as it lay glowing in the fire-light. " Ah !" said she, " I should never do for a poor man's wife : I'm so fond of soft furs and things, and I don't like poky rooms." With that she fell into a reverie, which was only inter- rupted by the arrival of Jael and her boxes. Jael helped her unpack, and dress. There was no lack of conversation between these two, but most of it turned upon nothings. One topic, that might have been interesting to the readers of this tale, was avoided by them both. They had now come to have a high opinion of each other's penetration, and it made them rather timid and reserved on that subject. Grace was dressed, and just going down, when she found she wanted a pin. She asked Jael for one. Jael looked aghast. " Oh, Miss, I'd rather you would take one, in spite of me." 4 * Well, so I will. There ! " And she whipped one awav from the bosom of Jael's dress. " Mind, I never gave it you." "No. I took it by brute force. ' " I like you too well to give you a pin." " May I venture to inquire what would be the consequence ?" " I'll luck, you may be sure. Heart-trouble, they do say." * * Well, I'm glad to escape that so easily. Why, this is the temple of superstition, and you are the High-Priestess. How shall I ever get on at din- ner, without you ? I know I shall do something to shock Mr. Raby. Perhaps spill the very salt. I generally do." " Ay, Miss, at home. But, dear heart, you won't see any of them nasty little salt-cellars here, that some crazy creature have invented to bring down bad luck. You won't spill the salt here, no fear: but don't ye let any body* help you fo it neither. If he helps you to salt, he helps you to sorrow." 44 Oh, does he? Then it is fortunate nobody ever does help any body to salt. Well, yours is a nice creed. Why, we are all at the mercy of other people, according to yon. Say I have a ri- val : she smiles in my face, and says, ' My sweet friend, accept this tribute of my esteem ;' and gives me a pinch of salt, before I know where I am. I wither on the spot ; and she sails off with the prize. Or, if there is no salt about, she comes behind me with a pin, and pins it to my skirt, and that pierces my heart Don't yon see what abominable nonsense it all is ?" The argument was cut short by the ringing of a tremendous bell. Grace gave the last, swift, searching, all-comprehensive look of her sex, into the glass, and went down to the drawing-room. There she found Mr. Raby, and Mr. Coventry, who both greeted her cordially ; and the next mo- ment dinner was announced. "Raby Hall" was ft square house, with two large low wings. The left wing contained the kitchen, pantry, scullery, bakehouse, brewhouse, etc.; and servants' bedrooms above. The right wing the stables, coach-houses, cattle-sheds, and several bedrooms. The main building the hall, the best bedrooms, and the double staircase, lead- ing up to them in horse-shoe form from the hall : and, behind the hall, on the ground-floor, there was a morning-room, in which several of the Squire s small tenants were even now preparing for supper by drinking tea, and eating cakes made in rude imitation of the infant Saviour. On the right of the hall were the two drawing-rooms en suite, and on the left was the remarkable room into which the host now handed Miss Carden, and Mr. Coventry followed. This room had been, originally, the banqueting-hall. It was about twenty feet high, twenty-eight feet wide, and fif- ty feet long, and ended in an enormous bay win- dow, that opened upon the lawn. It was entirely panelled with oak, carved by old Flemish work- men, and adorned here and there with bold devi- ces. The oak, having grown old in a pure at- mosphere, and in a district where wood and roots were generally burned in dining-rooms, had ac- quired a very rich and beautiful color, a pure and healthy reddish brown, with no tinge whatever of black : a mighty different hue from any you can find in Wardour Street Plaster ceiling there was none, and never had been. The original joists, and beams, and boards, were still there, only not quite so rudely fashioned as of old ; for Mr. Ra- by's grandfather had caused them to be planed and varnished, and gilded a little in serpentine lines. This wood-work above gave nobility to the room, and its gilding, though worn, relieved th«Leye agreeably. -The farther end was used as a study, and one side of it graced with books, all handsomely bound : the other side, with a very beautiful or- gan that had an oval mirror in the midst of its gilt dummy-pipes. All this made a cosy nook in the grand room. What might be called the dining-room part, though rich, was rather sombre, on ordinary oc- casions ; but this night it was decorated glorious- ly. The materials were simple— wax-candles and holly ; the effect was produced by a magnificent use of these materials. There were eighty can- dles, of the largest size sold in shops, and twelve wax pillars, five feet high, and the size of a man's calf; of these, four only were lighted at present. The holly was not in sprigs, but in enormous branches, that filled the eye with glistening green and red : and, in the embrasure of the front win- dow stood a young holly-tree, entire, eighteen feet high, and gorgeous with five hundred branches of red berries. The tree had been dug up, and planted here in an enormous bucket, used for that purpose, and filled with mould. Close behind this tree were placed two of the wax pillars, lighted, and their flame shone through the leaves and berries magically. As Miss Carden entered, on Mr. Raby's arm, her eye swept the room with complacency, and settled on the holly-tree. At sight of that, she pinched Mr. Raby s arm, and cried " Oh !" three times. Then, ignoring the dinner-table altogeth- er, she pulled her host away to the tree, and stood before it, with clasped hands. " Oh, how beauti- ful!'' Mr. Raby was gratified. "So then our fore- v PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. 05 fathers were not quite such fools as some people say.'' i 'They were angels, they were ducks. It is beautiful, it is divine." Mr. Raby looked at the glowing cheek, and deep, sparkling, sapphire eye. " Come," said he ; " after all, there's nothing here so beautiful as the young lady who now honors the place with her presence." With this he handed her ceremoniously to a place at his right hand ; said a short grace, and sat down between his two guests. "But, Mr. Raby," said Grace, ruefully, "I'm with my back to the holly-tree. " " You can ask Coventry to change places." Mr. Coventry rose, and the change was effected. " Well, it is your doing, Coventry. Now she'll overlook you" 4 * All the better for me, perhaps. I'm content : Miss Carden will look at the holly, and I shall look at Miss Carden." "Faute de mieux." " C'est meehant." " And I shall fine you both a bumper of cham- pagne, for going out of the English language." " I shall take my punishment like a man." "Then take mine as well. Champagne with me means frenzy." But, in the midst of the easy banter and jocose airy nothings of the modern dining-room, an object attracted Grace's eye. It was a picture, with its face turned to the wall, and some large letters on the back of the canvas. This excited Grace's curiosity directly, and, whenever she could without beipff observed, she peeped, and tried to read the Ascription ; but, what with Mr. Raby's head, and a monster candle that stood before it, she could not decipher it un- observed. She was inclined to ask Mr. Raby; but she was very quick, and, observing that the other portraits were of his family, she suspected , at once that the original of this picture had offend- J ed her host, and that it would be in bad taste, ! and might be offensive, to question him. Still ! the subject took possession of her. \ At about eight o'clock a servant announced candles in the drawing-room. | Upon this Mr. Raby rose, and, without giving ! her any option on the matter, handed her to tho door with obsolete deference In the drawing-room she found a harpsichord, a spinet, and a piano, all tuned expressly for her. This amused her, as she had never seen either of the two older instruments in her life. She play- ed on them all three. Mr. Raby had the doors thrown open to hear her. She played some pretty little things from Men- delssohn, Spohr, and Schubert. The gentlemen smoked and praised. Then she found an old music-book, and played Handel's overture to Otho, and the minuet. The gentlemen left off praising directly, and came silently into the room to hear the immortal melodist. But this is the rule in music ; the lips praise the delicate gelatinous, the heart beats in silence at the mighty melodious. Tea and coffee came directly afterwards, and, ere they were disposed of, a servant announced •'The Wassailers." 44 Well, let them come in," said Mr. Raby. The school-children and young people of the village trooped in, and made their obeisances, and sang the Christmas Carol — God rest yon, merry gentlemen, Let nothing you ditsmay. Then one of the party produced an image of the Virgin and Child, and another offered comfits in a box : a third presented the wassail-cup, into j which Raby immediately poured some silver, and Coventry followed his example. Grace fumbled for her purse, and, when she had found it, began to fumble in it for her silver. But Raby lost all patience, and said, " There, I give this for the lady, and she'll pay me next Christmas/' The wassailers departed, and the Squire went to say a kind word to his humbler guests. Miss Carden took that opportunity to ask Mr. Coventry if he had noticed the picture with its face to the wall. He said he had. " Do you know who it is?" "No idea." " Did you read the inscription ?" " No. But, if you are curious, 111 go back to the dining-room, and read it." "I'm afraid he might be angry. There is no excuse for going there now." " Send me for your pocket-handkerchief." "Please see whether I have left my pocket- handkerchief in the dining-room, Mr. Coventry," said Grace, demurely. Mr. Coventry smiled, and hurried away. But he soon came back to say that the candles were all out, the windows open, and the servants laying the cloth for supper. " Oh, nevermind, then," said Grace ; **when we go in to supper I'll look myself." But a considerable time elapsed before supper, and Mr. Coventry spent this time in making love rather ardently, and Grace in defending herself rather feeblv. * _ It was nearly eleven o'clock when Mr. Raby rejoined them, and they all went into supper. There were candles lighted on the table and a ft*' here and there upon the walls : but the room was very sombre : and Mr. Raby informed them this was to remind them of the moral darkness, in which the world lay before that great event they were about to celebrate. He then helped each of them to a iadleful of frumety, remarking at the same time, with a grim smile, that they were not obliged to eat it ; there would be a very different supper after midnight. Then a black-letter Bible was brought him, and he read it all to himself at a side-table. After an interval of silence so passed, there was a gentle tap at the bay window. Mr. Raty went and threw it open, and immediately a wonten's, voice, full, clear, and ringing, sang ooteida : ' The first Noel the angels did say. Was to three poor shepherd?, in fields as they lay; In fields where they were keeping their sheep, On a cold winter's night that was so deep. Chorus. Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel, Born is the King of Israel. » The chorus also was sung outside. During the chorus one of the doors opened, and Jael Dence came in by it ; and the treble singer, who was the blacksmith's sister, came in at the window, and so the two women met in the room, and sang the second verse in sweetest harmony. These two did not sing like invalids, as their 'ty. G6 PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. more refined sisters too often do; from their broad chests, and healthy lungs, and noble throats, and above all, their musical hearts, they poured out the harmony so clear and full, that everv glass in the room rang like a harp, and a bolt of ice seemed to shoot down Grace Carden's back- bone: and, in the chorus, gentle George's bass was like a diapason. They looked up and 8jiw a star That shone in the Knet beyond them far. And unt<> the earth it gave a great lurht, And so it continued both day and ni-ht. Chi/rwt. Noel, Noel, No