such a preacher !

preacher!

Dearies me, says I to Betty, we mauna miss a word thon fine preacher says. I aye taks all opportunities of giving a bit of preaching to Betty mysel, thinking it nae mair nor my duty, heed o' a family as I be; and if ever a woman will mak' a discernment as to where thon silk cam' fro', it 'ull be Betty, no less. Aye me, what a wonderment she'll be in when I tell her o' the colour, and the richness, and the rustle! It's past me, hoo my lord does na see the hail thing; and if Betty or mysel could but get his ear, my certie but we wad tell him hoo Mr. Robarts."

"Oh!" said Emily, joyfully, interrupting her and seizing hold of the only clue she had been able to disentangle from these heterogeneous sentences, "Lord Bernard does know. He was only telling me at dinner what a valuable person Mr. Robarts was, and how ill he should be able to do without him."

"Aw," said Miss Charles, rather abashed "Ayes me, weel, he could say nae less to such as you, honey. Says I to Betty, 'Ye show yer company by yer manners, Betty; and never let me hear you let on of ony scandal nor such like, for I'll no listen to one word. And sae that's the doctor's new assistant. Ayes me, now he has four on 'em, and a thousand a-year; and here's the grandest preacher as ever I heerd, or Betty either, has but three hundred a-year, and nae curate. Aw but its a crying sin, and it will work its way out, like thorns i' the flesh, and I'll be pleased to see it."

"Ah!" said Emily, taking advantage of a pause in Miss Charles's speech, a pause rendered necessary from sheer want of breath, what a charming person is the doctor! But can you tell me, Miss Charles, anything about the pictures in this room? Some appear to be family portraits, while

others are evidently ancient and of value, I should say."

It was so seldom that Miss Charles was appealed to upon any matter-those who knew her well avoiding her, and those who did not having little inclination to do sothat she felt at once flattered and pleased. Being a shrewd woman, she saw at once that Mrs. Leslie neither despised nor laughed at her, and would be grateful for the information she could give. 'Tis true, Miss Charles had an unlovely mind, warped by temper and malevolence into something sufficiently evil to be avoided by every one; yet she was not insensible to the idea that it must be pleasant to be something to some one besides a Betty. Therefore, she exerted herself to the utmost to entertain Mrs. Leslie; and if, in the various historiettes attached to each picture, the bias of her mind led her, now and then, to throw a bespattering of muddy innuendo upon what she related, the simple-minded

Mrs. Leslie bore her safely through the danger, landing her invariably upon a more charitable and amiable shore.

In those days-upwards of fifty years ago -people educated themselves a great deal more than they do at present. There was so much less to occupy the mind, the time, or the brains, that dull, inert people remained dull and inert. They were never startled out of the monotony of their lives to rush for a train; they never suddenly set out on a journey from London to Edinburgh upon a day's notice. They plodded through the "Spectator," "Sir Charles Grandison," and the

Pilgrim's Progress" duly once a-yearnever dreaming of the amount of literature that was to be daily offered up at the feet of their grandchildren. But those who, shadowing forth the leaps that the world was about to make, had no notion of being left behind because of being born a few years too soon, were carried on by the exercise of their com

mon sense, and made up in shrewdness what they wanted in education.

This was the case with Miss Charles. Her great error was that she chose a muddy path to walk in, very few caring to follow her; and the loneliness of her condition made her find the more amusement the more difficult her way. It remains to be seen how Mr. Leslie fulfilled the promise made in his first sermon to this parishioner in particular. It would appear from her remarks to her confidante Betty, as she disrobed for the night after the dinner-party, that Miss Charles was not ill-pleased with it altogether.

Yet no sore had she smitten, no wound had she opened, no character had she smudged: Betty had to listen to a quiet detail of the dishes, an especial description of Mrs. Robarts' dress; and so few disparaging remarks, that the maid, accustomed to highly-seasoned discourses, was somewhat disappointed. She had her confidante also, and a dinner at the