(chiefly) from my own foolish imaginations, but I hope you will forgive me if I am intrusive and ask questions painful to your feelings. I have not had much experience in the world, perhaps I may claim some little indulgence on that consideration."

"I beg that you will not apologize," said Judith, "if it would give you any pleasure I would relate the history of my life. Perhaps it would not be worth listening to, but it has been rather a checquered scene. I think you will readily conceive that it was a false step when I married a common soldier, although he was the man that I really loved, a handsome dashing dragoon, such a man as a thoughtless girl might fancy, a natural impulse, without the more sober dictates of reason counting the consequences. To say the least of it I feel the degradation of my child."

"Here she comes with her hair studded with flowers, happy enough. That is Martha, she is so fond of children, how lovely she looks! I think she should have been called Rose, a sweet little moss. Here comes my father from his pastoral visits, well, what do you think father? Judith is going to relate her history to us, I think we shall derive great pleasure from the narrative, there is much to be learned from individual experience, it is quite as interesting as the great history of human events, and equally useful on a smaller scale."

"I hope the time will be spent profitably," said the pastor, "and then we are sure to feel happy. I am glad our neighbour is come and is looking so cheerful, and I beg she will endeavour to feel at home at the parsonage, and to feel as if visiting friends, so there will be no restraint."

"Thank you, sir," said Judith, "I cannot express my feelings, only I think your kindness is the foreshadowing of that union of sympathies, when we shall have put off this mortal coil, and mingle in ethereal purity."

"Well, Judith!" said the pastor, 66 we can contemplate the fair prospect with joy; the world can give nothing in comparison. I have witnessed this morning something which may surprise you a little, a sad manifestation of the human heart, lost in the darkness of ignorance and superstition. I will relate the circumstance so that you may understand something of the character of the people you have come to live amongst, but I will say this is one of the darkest examples. I visited a rather obscure part of my parish, having heard that the wife of a small farmer was suffering from rheumatism, and that his old grey mare had died. I thought a little spiritual advice might be of service, if I could not relieve them from the loss they had sustained. It appears that the farmer's wife had been told by a gipsy fortuneteller, that she was bewitched, and had pointed out a little old woman who wears a red cloak, and carries a basket with tapes and laces, as the offender ; the woman had been credulous enough to believe that if she could scratch the witch with a rusty nail, it would break the spell. Well, the poor little witch made her appearance at the farm this morning, and received such ill usage, that I am almost ashamed to tell, I went into the house just at the time,and with all my reasoning, I could make no impression, the woman was in ecstacies of delight at the thought, of breaking

the spell, and of being relieved from suffering. I dare
say she thought she was right, such is the uncivilized
human mind; the poor little old woman was almost
broken-hearted. I ministered to her as well as I was
able, and gave her half-a-crown to buy some little
comforts, for she was quite ill.
I think the supersti-
tious Hindoo is more excusable, but it is not creditable
to me as the pastor of the parish, but if she has not
been benefited by my teaching, I pray that she may
still have opportunity, and become illuminated by the
Gospel of Christ; after dinner I shall be glad to
listen to Judith's narrative, and I hope that we shall
have no more witch tales for the future."

CHAPTER IV.

JUDITH RELATES HER FAMILY HISTORY.

"My father's vanity was rather apparent when he spoke of the antiquity of his family; although a man of good understanding, he certainly discovered a pardonable weakness on that subject. His name was Roger Lee, descended from an old English family, whose traditions were as remote as the Crusades, in which it is said they distinguished themselves by their zeal and valour in defence of the cross, against the no less fanatic followers of the impostor of the east. There was one ancestor that my father loved to remember, who was a famous Troubadour, who had returned from his wanderings in the east, and was a welcome guest with the monks at their festive ceremonies, whom he entertained by his skill on the harp, and his matchless power of song. However, it is certain that the family suffered for the cause of royalty during the civil wars of Charles, and never afterwards recovered their original position; they received some marks of royal favour after the restoration, by being appointed as rangers of the royal forests, but it seems that the whole family gradually dwindled into obscurity, for my grandfather was nothing more than a gamekeeper, and lived on the borders of the new forest in Hampshire, where my dear parent was born. Bereaved of

his father when very young, he was committed to the care of an uncle, one of the last of the race, who was fond of relating the old family stories, from which my father derived a romantic love for the traditions of his country, and a taste for the poetic quietude of a sylvan life. He lived with this worthy relative until manhood, being employed on the small farm which was not very productive, and promising nothing but severe toil, which made the uncle desirous to provide something more remunerative and easy for the nephew. Accordingly he procured for him an appointment in the excise, an employment, but little suited to his tastes and inclinations. His dreams were of the pursuits of his fathers, of the antlered stag, and deep mouthed hound, his predilections seemed to be for a life amidst the shades and retirement of the forest. I remember the historical lessons of my childhood were generally of a romantic character, (for I was educated at home, principally by my father;) such as Alfred's wanderings amidst the marshes and woods of Somersetshire, a needy fugitive, and of the poor herdsman who took pity upon him and divided his loaf, not knowing that he entertained a king, and how Alfred rewarded him after his restoration, by educating him for the church, and then promoting him to the see of Winchester. Kindness generally meets its reward, if nothing more than an approving conscience, he would say, contrasting the herdsman's wife, as an example of low mind, in making the stranger unhappy (alluding to the burnt cakes), if we give shelter to the distressed, we should not remind them of the obligation.