Emily looked hard at her husband. Not that she disbelieved him; but she thought she could not have understood him. His looks, however, were not to be mistaken. Her child was asleep in her arms; and as she bent her face over his face, a tear fell upon his cheek and roused him.-' Poor little George!' she said.

Her husband understood her: 'Yes,' he whispered 'we shall be able to afford it now.'

How many plans were talked over that evening, before the happy pair left their little sitting room, and how eagerly the various merits of one country spot after another were canvassed, it is not necessary to decide. But for the first time, for many years, the hearts of Henry Herbert and his wife beat lightly with renewed hope: and if they did not sleep soundly that night, it was not gloomy apprehension that disturbed their rest.

Another month, and the will was proved, and the legacy handed over to Henry, in right of his wife. Another day, and the debts that had pressed heavily on him were discharged, and his stock was replenished. There was a thousand pounds left, and a little over that: 'We must invest it somewhere to-morrow, dearest; and to-morrow, too, we will go and look at that cottage that we heard of, at Highgate.'

To-morrow! 'Take no thought for the morrow; for ye know not what a day or an hour may bring forth.' So spake One, who knew, as none but He could know, on what an uncertain tenure all earthly enjoyments are held; on what a slight foundation all mortal plans are laid.

The morrow's post brought a letter from Henry's ancient home,-the first he had received for many months-unhappily, free communication had long ceased between the father and son. Henry had certainly intended to inform his parents of his altered prospects; but had, from day to day, put it off. The letter Henry now received was full of lamentation and

woe.

The bank in which Mr. Herbert had, for temporary security lodged a very large sum of money, with dif ficulty got together, and intended for a year's rent of his farm,-this bank had stopped payment, and not a shilling in the pound was to be hoped for. This was

trouble, number one. Then, an execution was in his house for the unpaid rent; for the landlord-one of Mr. Herbert's fine old English gentlemen-could not wait for the money, or saw no chance of getting it, perhaps, if he did wait. This was trouble, number two. Then, William was in a fix' also; or rather, he had got out of one by clearing off to America, without giving notice of his intention, and leaving his father to pay borrowed money, for which he had become security. This was trouble, number three, and the worst of all: and, in short, unless a thousand pounds could be raised, almost at the instant, ruin would stare the unhappy family at Nine Elms farm, in the face.

'I don't think, Harry, wrote his father, 'that you can help me. Of course, you cannot, and I don't ask you to try: but if you can drop us a line, just to comfort your mother and sister, do: and forget and forgive what is past and gone.'

Henry put the letter into his turned away to hide his emotion. the contents, and left the room. turned.

wife's hands, and She glanced over Presently she re

'Henry, you will go down to B'I don't know what good that would do, Emily.' 'Oh, Henry! how can you say so, when you know you can help your father out of this trouble ?'

Henry turned hastily to his wife, Dearest, you do not mean -Yes, I see what you do mean; but the money is yours.'

Then give it to your father.'

'But our little boy,-and Highgate ?'

'Don't say another word about it, Henry, pray don't. Perhaps they will ask me to go down to the farm, now and then. I think if they will but try,

they wont find me very troublesome. But never mind that now, Henry: just go and get the money, and take your place by the coach. I'll put up your things while you are gone.'

There was unusual stillness at Nine Elms, and great distress. Bailiff's officers were in possession ; and the news had spread far and wide that farmer Herbert had come down to poverty, and would soon be turned out of house and home.

One evening, a few days after the bursting of this storm, a distant sound of wheels was heard; and then a post chaise was seen rapidly driving through the village.

"What's up now, I wonder?' exclaimed one of the loungers at the blacksmith's forge to another. 'Somebody, it's likely, going up to the hall. I shouldn't wonder if

"That thing beant going to the hall,' retorted the first speaker. 'I'll be shot if 'tasn't turned up the lane to Nine Elms!'

'Oh! come to take old Herbert off to jail then, likely enough. Poor old man!'

Certainly, the chaise did take the road to Nine Elms farm; and, before the loungers had finished their comments, it had stopped at the old weatherbeaten porch, and Henry Herbert was in his mother's embrace.

'You are come to see us in our trouble,' sobbed the old lady.

And to help you out of it, mother.'

These were ominous words to the two officials, who had taken care to be within ear-shot of what passed; and they shrunk back.

'Father, mother; let us go into the parlour; I have something to say to you alone,' said Henry, whose attention was attracted by the two strangers.

'Our job's over, I reckon,' growled one of the men

to the other, as the parlour door closed upon the retiring party.

Father, you wrote me word that a thousand pounds would help you out of your difficulties. Here it is;' and Henry put a bulky packet into his father's hand.

'You don't mean it, Henry! you can't mean it! Where could you get a thousand pounds? And if you could

'It isn't mine, father; it is your's now, it never was mine; it was Emily's: but I'll tell you all about it another time, the first thing is to get rid of those fellows in the kitchen and then

Well-we needn't make the story any longer. The stoutest old prejudices in the world could not stand such a sudden assault as that. Down they went— crash! And a grand crash it was.

Old Mr. Herbert and his wife still live, in comfort, at Nine Elms farm; and so also does Jane, who sometimes talks of a brother William she has in America, and hopes she shall see him back again soon. But her great favourite is her nephew, George, a fine young fellow who has been brought up at the farm, and whose father and mother live in a pleasant cottage villa close by. They retired from business a good many years ago, and took up their abode at B-, at the earnest request of old Mrs. Herbert, who thinks her son Henry's wife a very model of female excellence. But perhaps this is only prejudice.

107

PROMISES TO CHILDREN.

PARENTS should be careful how they make promises to their children, and when made, they should be careful not to break them.

There was an old Vesta match box, positively not worth a farthing, but it gave me a vast deal of trouble notwithstanding.

I had burned the last match in sealing a letter, and then, having some indistinct recollection that the empty box had been promised to somebody, I stepped into the nursery.

'To whom does this box belong ?' I asked.

Is it empty, papa ?'

'Yes.'

'Then it belongs to me,' said the little girl-we may call her Mary. 'You said I should have it when you had emptied it.'

I was about to put the box into Mary's outstretched hand, when another claimant interfered.

'Papa, papa; you promised it to me,' exclaimed Lucy, with some little excitement.

'Did I, Lucy? This is strange.

How could I have promised it to both? I must try and remem

ber.

'Don't you recollect, papa, one day when I brought you some paper lights

'I know you promised it to me,' said Mary, interrupting her sister; but I don't mind; Lucy may have it, if she likes.'

'No, let Mary have it, papa: only, I know you did say I should have it.'

After a while, I remembered that I had promised