'I'll put this paper in my pocket, Mr. Sutton, if I may,' said he.

"By all means do,' said Mr. Sutton.

Half an hour afterwards, Mannering was at home. The children were in bed and asleep. There was a bright coal fire in the grate, and Martha was running the heels of socks and stockings to strengthen them. James, in fustian jacket, and pipe in mouth, sat opposite to her, and read aloud the paper which Mr. Sutton had given him. Now and then he put in a few words by way of commentary, which we shall give in italics. The paper was headed

(Well I shall that's a (Well

"A PENNY A DAY.-WHAT CAN I DO WITH IT? (A sensible question that, to be sure. A terrible deal of money to have, and not know what to do with it.) 1. Are you about THIRTY years of age? done, old conjuror. I expect that is about it. be thirty next birthday, please God I live; bit of good truth.) Are you a married man ? I guess I am. I have some slight idea of having gone to church five years ago, for a particular purpose. Eh! Martha?) Have you some little ones dependant on your exertions? (Three, only three just at present. But there's no telling what may happen. However, we'll say three, to be on the safe side. Eh! Martha ?)

6

'Nonsense, James, go on reading,' said Martha, hastily. There, you have made me break my worsted.'

'You should not have jerked it so,' replied Mannering gravely. (Well, three, then, we'll say. That's James, Susan, and white-headed Bob,)—to whom you would like to leave SIXTY POUNDS? The * * ** * * * * Life Assurance Society will insure that sum when you die, whenever that may happen, upon payment of A PENNY A DAY! (Ah! I see the drift of it.

There's a deal of talking and writing about life

insurance now-a-days: but I don't exactly seelet's go on.)

-but

"2. Perhaps you have but one child, and that in its first year, (that isn't me, at all events: well?) you may secure it FORTY-SEVEN POUNDS, to be paid at twenty-one years of age, to begin business, or to begin housekeeping, for-A PENNY A DAY!" (This would do for them as has only one chick; but a penny apiece all round—and all ought to be served alike, of course-that would be coming it strong.)

"3. You are labouring, it may be, in a profession (um! profession!) which requires strength of body (I should think so) or vigour of mind, (some of that too, I guess) which it will not be pleasant to exert so fully after sixty years of age, (pleasant or not, it will have to be done, I reckon.) You may have £121 15s. from the Society on the day you complete your Sixtieth year, to make the remainder of life comfortable, or an annuity of £12 10s. for life, beginning at that age, and all this for-A PENNY A DAY! (That's something, but-well, what comes next?)

"4. Are you desirous to save a little money? (No obiection-none in the world: Oh no; I'm agreeable.) You may have TWENTY-FIVE POUNDS in twelve years and a-half, with your money returnable with interest, if you want it before that time, by paying half-a-crown per month; or you may have TWELVE POUNDS TEN SHILLINGS in seven years and a quarter for the same payment, and that is but-A PENNY A DAY!"

When Mannering had finished reading the paper, he dropt into a kind of musing fit, not very usual with him. At length he roused himself:

What do you think of it, Martha ?'

Think of what, James ?'

Why, of this penny a day job. Do you know, I think it would not be amiss."

'O, I wouldn't have anything to do with it, James; it is only some new fangled plan for getting money out of poor people's pockets, like the club that you had to do with a year or two ago, and that broke all

to bits, with its public-housings and dinnerings, and holiday-keepings, and marchings, and all that sort of thing. A pretty penny you lost by that.'

Ah, that was a bad job, to be sure, and we got our fingers nicely burnt; but there was bad management; and then the treasurer-a pretty sort of a treasurer!-started off to America with the cash box. But I don't see what that has to do with this, Martha. And if

Just then, the baby-white-headed Bob, as James Mannering was pleased to call him-began to cry in the room above. Martha took up the candle, and went to quiet him, leaving her husband by the fireside alone. While she was gone, Mannering's pipe went out; he knocked out the ashes and re-filled it. Then he wanted a pipe-light. The paper was in his hand, and it answered the purpose admirably. By the time Martha returned, his thoughts were upon something else; and there was an end of life insurance for that night.

Three months afterwards, Mannering was passing by Mr. Sutton's shop, and noticed in the window a neatly framed and glazed card, announcing that Mr. Sutton was agent, for that town, of the *** **** Life Insurance Company. Mannering went on a few steps further, and then returned, entered the shop, and came out again with a small book in his hand.

Mannering had that day witnessed a peculiarly distressing scene. One of his fellow-workmen had rather suddenly died. He was a young man, full of expectation and hope of lengthened days, but at a time when he thought not, he was stricken, and rapidly carried off. It was from the funeral of poor Cormack that James Mannering was then just returning.

Cormack had been a hearty, good-natured fellow clever and sensible, and Mannering felt greatly depressed by the breach which was thus made in the circle of his acquaintance. But one thing, at that

time, troubled him more than this:-Cormack's widow and orphans were in great distress: destitution stared them in the face. Beyond a few pounds, to come from a burial club, of which Cormack was a member, he had made no provision for his family.

Mannering's sympathy and compassion had been greatly excited by the despairing forebodings of the poor widow; and, as soon as the funeral was over, he had attempted, but with small success, to raise a subscription for her, among those who had been present. All pitied the bereaved family; but it was little they could do to relieve. A beginning, however, was made, and by persevering application, Mannering thought that an additional ten pounds might be raised for the widow's assistance.

'

'We ought to do what we can,' was Mannering's reflection; for what is the fate of Cormack's family, may be that of ours to-morrow.' And just as he had thought so, he came upon Mr. Sutton's shop window.

It was a terribly cold night: winter had set in in real earnest; and as Mannering drew up to his cheerful fireside, he thought again of the poor widow and her family, while he thanked God, with a grateful heart, for the mercies he enjoyed.

In this mood, he took the little book from his pocket, and began to read. This time he was alone, for his wife was gone down to Mrs. Cormack's desolated home, for an hour or two, to help and comfort her.

Let us listen to the reader, as he cons over a few paragraphs :

"The principles of Life Insurance are, in the present day, so well understood, that to any reflecting mind it must be a matter of surprise that its benefits have not been more generally appreciated. That scarcely one head of a family out of every hundred has yet availed himself of its advantages, while in every circle there are so many records of the uncertainty of life, (Poor Cormack, sighed Mannering) as well as of the distress and sorrow consequent upon

the widow and fatherless being left unprovided for, (Poor Mrs. Cormack and her children, again commented the reader), speaks but little for the prudence and foresight of the present generation. (Mine, for instance, was Mannering's next reflection). How fully is the sentiment of the poet verified, that

'All men count all men mortal but themselves.'

(True enough.) Both the old as well as the young live on as if their lives would be spared for many years, heedless of the sacred warning, 'For it is appointed unto all men once to die ;' and it is, perhaps, to be attributed to this feeling of self-security that men feel but little inclination to make a provision for their families. (I can't say but that's true, too, said Mannering to himself.)

Many argue that they are strong and healthy, and, it may be, have never required medical attend. ance or advice since the tender years of infancy; (just so, said the reader, rather proudly, I have never had a doctor since I can remember—No, nor yet had Cormack till this illness, he added, in a thoughtful tone), but let such men examine the records of mortality, and ask themselves if all the persons whose deaths are recorded as occurring during the prime of life, were delicate in appearance and diseased in body. No; many were healthy and robust, (Poor Cormack was, at all events), and the soundness of their constitutions could not have been questioned for a moment, even after the most careful and searching examinations. But health and vigour soon fly before the numerous diseases to which the human frame is liable; and how often is it the case that the man whom we one day see in his accustomed health, is the next stretched on a bed of sickness, and ere a single week may have passed, he may be numbered with the dead. (That was just it with poor Cormack, at any rate, added Mannering, again sighing deeply.)

"From the bills of mortality we learn that out of