'But what shall I say to Miss Chatterton, Edward? for I have promised to be of the party, and I promised for you, too,' said Mary Lennox, as she packed up her husband's carpet bag, ready for his journey.

6

Tell her I was obliged to go to London on business and perhaps you had better join the party. I am sorry, dear, that I spoke so unkindly to you.'

'O, don't speak about it, dear Edward,' replied Mary, weeping: 'it was my fault. And I cannot go, indeed.' In another hour or two, Mr. Lennox was on the top of the mail coach, bound for London.

Meanwhile, Miss Chatterton had left the house, indignant with poor Edward; had been to the Deans, the Wyatts, and the Conways, saying what a dreadful scene she had just witnessed between her cousin — who was not worthy of the name of cousin-and his poor ill-used wife: that he had behaved like a brute, and she like an angel; and that, in the most rude way towards herself, Miss Chatterton, and in the cruelest way towards poor Mary, he had not only refused to be of the party-her-Miss Chatterton's own partybut had forbidden his wife to be of it also; and had, with exceeding incivility, even declined to assist her in obtaining conveyances for it. But, for all this, she was determined that a party there should be. Accordingly, she pressed another gentleman into her service, and the important affair of 'vans, wagons, or flies,' was settled to her satisfaction; and she had made an impression, too, very unfavourable to her cousin Lennox.

But the worst of it was to come. On her return home, Miss Chatterton found, to her great astonishment, that Mr. Lennox had just started on the mail to London; and—not to her astonishment-that Mrs. Lennox was very dull. To raise her spirits, Miss Chatterton began to talk of the trial it must be to a wife to have to bear the caprices of an ill-natured and tyrannical husband. Mary caught fire at this, and declared that Edward was neither ill-natured, tyrannical, nor capricious,-that she herself was alone blameable for what had passed. And to exonerate him

more completely, as well, perhaps, as to enlist Miss Chatterton's sympathies, she, very unwisely, unfolded the history of the day's troubles-exaggerated by her own imperfect comprehension of them, and by her apprehensions of the catastrophe to which they might lead. To all this, Miss Chatterton only lifted her hands in astonishment; and so that evening passed away.

The next day the party' came off.' Mary Lennox, of course, had not the heart to join it; but the Deans, and the Wyatts, and the Conways, and one or two other families, or parts of families, were there; and-as Miss Chatterton declared-a glorious day they had of it in Ashwell Park.

At any rate, she had her full employment on that day. Before the week was out, among the five thousand inhabitants of the town, it was currently reported, and, in most cases, firmly believed,

First, that Mr. Lennox had returned home one evening intoxicated, and had so misused his wife as to endanger her existence. In proof of which, she had kept her bed ever since.

Next-that the affairs of Mr. Lennox were in terrible confusion, and that he had absconded from his creditors, escaping to London, and thence to the continent, from the danger of an arrest.

This was varied by another version :-He had actually been arrested for debt, and hurried off to prisonsomewhere or other.

Lastly-that Donkin, the wine merchant, had committed an act of bankruptcy, and would, next week, or soon, be in the gazette.

It was not long before this string of false reports drew after it the most serious consequences. Mr. Donkin was enraged; and tracing home the scandal, with great trouble, to Miss Chatterton, he threatened ner with an action at law; and she disappeared from the scene. But this was of little matter, compared with the effect produced on Edward Lennox. That which he had-in his timidity and nervousness, with

out cause-dreaded, actually came upon him: for the reports, not softened by spreading, reached the ear of his principal creditor,—a man of sharp dealing and hard heart, who, without a moment's loss of time, proceeded at law against the unfortunate victim of gossip, for moneys owing on a note of hand. At the same time, Mr. Lennox found his customers unaccountably deserting him. In short, before a month had well elapsed, he was inextricably involved in difficulties, brought on him he could not then tell how; and in less than three months, he was-for that time -a ruined man.

Reader, be you husband, wife, friend, or acquaintance, guard, we pray you, the sanctity of home from the immorality of gossip.

11

WILL MAKING.

MICHAEL SMITH had been, in his life, and throughout his life, a prosperous man. He began the world with comparatively nothing besides a good constitution, a good character, and downright industry and perseverance. By means of these, at fifty years of age, he had been able to retire from business on an income of something under two hundred pounds a year, derived mostly from the rents of houses, some of which he had himself built, and others which, from time to time, he had bought-dead bargains.

In one of these houses Mr. Smith himself lived,— a neat, comfortable, and rather tasty eight-roomed house, surrounded by a good garden, in a small village not far from the town in which was the greater part of his property.

Mr. Smith had married rather late in life, and his wife, some years younger than himself, was the only immediate sharer in his growing prosperity. They had no children; their eight-roomed cottage was, therefore, amply large enough for the small establish

ment.

Very fond was Michael of his wife. Indeed, no wonder; for she was lively, intelligent, and goodhumoured. Moreover, Michael had no one else on whom to lavish fondness. His nearest relations were two cousins, whom he had so seldom seen (they lived in a distant county), that he scarcely knew them by sight when, on one occasion they reminded him of their existence, by unexpectedly breaking in upon his

loneliness, and inviting themselves to a week's holiday in the pretty country village to which then kinsman had retired. This was soon after Michael had relinquished business. This enforced exercise of hospitality by no means endeared the two cousins to our friend, who believed-whatever might be the grounds of this belief that they only came for what they could get, which was not much, except a kind of John Bull welcome plenty of good beef and porter, with other varieties of generous cheer, during the time the visit lasted. This freely enough given, and the visit fairly over, Michael conceived that all was done that relationship required; and he thought but little more of these cousins, who were, as he understood, not in circumstances to need his help or sympathy, had he been disposed to offer either the one or the other.

And so time gently passed away, until Mr. Michael Smith was bordering upon his sixtieth year. That is to say, it passed easily enough with the good-tempered pair. He found, or made, sufficient employment for himself in overlooking his property, gather. ing in his rents, occasionally finding new tenants when old ones left, and keeping his books as methodically as a merchant's clerk; and she, in keeping her house in order, diurnal cookery, and periodical house and furniture purifications. For recreation, Michael kept a pony chaise, in which, two or three times a week, the contented pair might be seen jogging to and from the neighbouring town or elsewhere.

come.

Living thus quietly and unostentatiously, Michael could scarcely avoid saving some portion of his inHe had a horror of banks, and did not care to risk money on mortgages; as fast, therefore, as he saved, he spent. That is, he added house to house, and thus also added to the value of his numerous rentals, or real estate, but very little to what the law designates as personal property-money or goods.

Mr. Smith had a neighbour with whom he occa sionally smoked a pipe, and talked over the affairs of the nation. Sometimes, too, their conversation turned