speech, mildly explaining the circumstances which had rendered this trying scene necessary, affectionately recalling the interest he had always taken in their welfare, and benevolently expressing a hope, that they would continue as prosperous and happy under their new master as he trusted they had been under him. He did not allow a single expression to fall from his lips in anger or reproach towards either his nephew or Mayfield, but confined himself strictly to such explanations as might exonerate himself from all supposed privity to a design of withholding from the lawful heir his just rights of inheritance. "There is," said he, in conclusion, "a lesson to be drawn from these vicissitudes in earthly affairs which concerns us all; for we are all, in our several stations and degrees, liable to meet with them. Let that consideration be constantly present to your minds, so that if they come they may not find you unprepared. I will not say, my friends, that I ever contemplated a reverse of fortune so signal and so complete as hath overtaken me; yet, because I have always kept in due subordination my enjoyment of, and my desire for, mere worldly blessings, I can now see them depart without feeling more sorrow than is inseparable from that sense of their value which is a wisely ordained part of our very nature. Yes, my friends, I can be poor for the rest of my life, and lament the change less on my own account than for their sakes who are dearer to me than myself, and who, I fear, will not be so well able to look poverty in the face. My first prayer is, that none of you may ever be called upon to bear the same trials: my second, that if you are, you may find the same support in your hearts and consciences which now upholds me:-and so God bless you! With these words he withdrew, leaving his audience dissolved in tears, and followed by their blessings. CHAPTER II. Yet why should you have power to banish me WEBSTER'S "Thracian Wonders." THE impetuous character of Lady Frances prevented her from submitting to their disastrous reverses with the same equanimity as her husband; chiefly because her pride was wounded to the quick, and because the wound was inflicted by hands she immeasurably scorned. Had the calamity sprung from any other source; had the family estates been forfeited by a sentence of high treason against her husband; had he flung them away at the gaming table; had he lost them by rash, unadvised speculations—and had she, by any of these causes, been steeped in poverty to the very lips, she could have borne her lot with comparative cheerfulness and resignation. But to be humbled to the dust by Stephen-to resign to a daughter of Mayfield (for with that fact she had become acquainted,) a title and station she had hitherto borne herself-were ingredients in her cup of so poisonous a quality that death itself seemed to be in the draught. It is no wonder, therefore, she resisted the tasting of it to the last. In vain she was assured by her husband, by her son, by Aston, by every one, that the evidence of Stephen's legitimacy was unassailable; in vain she was told of the high legal opinions which had certified the utter hopelessness of contesting it; she persisted in believing (or if she did not deliberately believe, her feelings took refuge in the obstinate assumption of such belief,) that it was all a fraud, a gross cheat, flagitiously contrived by Mayfield and Stephen, and cunningly supported by perjury and fabricated documents. Hence, she employed every argument, every entreaty, and (when arguments and entreaties were of no avail) every form of stinging reproach, to drive her husband into a law-suit. But he was mildly firm in the course he had decided upon, made all indulgent allowances for the workings of a lacerated mind, while she, sadly, reluctantly, with a broken spirit, commenced her melancholy preparation for departure. Slight circumstances will sometimes cause us to feel misfortunes with a keener momentary pang than can be produced by their heaviest blow, and it was thus with this unhappy lady. In the interval between the return of her husband from London, and their bidding adieu, to Azledine Hall, a letter arrived, directed for Everton Azledine, Esq. Poor old Judiah. shook his head and sighed, as he received it from the postman, looked wistfully at the superscription, wiped away a tear that fell upon it as he was carrying it to his master, and, with an untaught delicacy of feeling, presented it with the seal upwards, to spare him, if he could, what he felt himself. The little act of genuine kindness did not pass unheeded or unacknowledged, for the master pressed his servant's hand, as he turned aside to conceal his own emotions. The letter, which was ill written, and vul |