and we should not have been brought into contact till after the marriage ceremony, when the discovery would only have aggravated the suffering. In a few days after, Mr. Faber and his family returned, when all Rose's story was confirmed. He put her in the way of discharging her last duties to her eccentric friend. She was at once engaged at a handsome salary by "Aunty," with whom, in a week or two, she departed for the place of the latter in shire.

As for Eliza, her pride supported her. Had she loved Crayford more, she would have suffered more. She has found a more worthy partner. Mary has long been mine.

VI.

Two more "Coincidences," and I will weary There were circumstances which rendered it imyou, good reader, no more. possible that she could marry him.

He took her hand. He begged permission to speak. His love would bear down all obstacles. Would she only say one word? Would she only afford him the right to persuade her?

She did not withdraw her hand, but, blushing deeply, she murmured—

“No, no, sir! it is impossible!"

"Oh! I can bear it no longer. Rose! Rose' I know all. You have forgotten me; but I have ever remembered you. Years ago, when you were little more than a child, I loved you; but I dared not tell you of my love, for I was only a poor copying clerk, and you were so beautiful. Then that villain, Crayford, crossed your path, and I thought you were lost to me forever!"

"And yet, knowing this, you would marry

"Yes!"

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Then, my life shall be devoted to rendering myself worthy of such a noble heart!"

One there was who paid her special attention. He was what is called a gentleman farmer, in the neighborhood; and he had the reputation of being wealthy. He was comparatively a new comer; and it was understood that he had made money in London, with which he had come down and bought the property on which his father had been a very small tenant. The gossip was, that he had been | me?" a barrister's clerk. A barrister's clerk is a mysterious personage, with no known local habitation. His only apparent resting-place, for any time, is in some gloomy chamber in Lincoln's-Inn, or the Temple, whither dingy-looking, sallow-faced votaries continually make their way, as if to consult | some oracle. At other times, he glides about the courts, a dark, shadowy nonentity, without a name, and seemingly without an occupation, unless, indeed, for some sins, he is condemned to bear about forever a stupendous bag. He is a being without an identity.

The gentleman-farmer was the young man who had saved me from being soundly thrashed by Crayford in the tavern in street. Another "Coincidence," good reader, which will, I hope, impress you as strongly as it did me.

This morning they were married-married by Mr. Faber. Myself and Mary, Eliza and her husband, my mother-in-law and “ Aunty," were presHe is Mr. So-and-so's clerk-noth-ent at the ceremony. Mary and I were obliged to ing more. No man ever suspected that he had a leave for town by an early train; and I sent her name, or, perchance, that he ate or slept. It seems home from the station in a cab, having an unusual that he is a sort of jackal to that proud beast of professional visit to pay. Not far from Covent prey, the barrister. In their first association, he Garden market I was accosted by one who dehelps to mark and hunt down the quarry later, manded alms, but not in quite an ordinary tone. when, perchance, the young lion becomes the lord The man was emaciated, and in tatters, but his of the forest, and crowds of willing victims flock clothes had once been of good make; and there to his den in the Temple, the jackal is allowed was an undefinable something in his manner. My his share of the prey. Every fee, every refresher face was shrouded in a cloak. given to the barrister, is accompanied by a delicate whet to the appetite of the clerk. Sometimes these clerks are wise men, and amass money, either by saving, or lending at interest, or by advantageous buying and selling on information acquired during professional pursuits. Many a barrister would gladly exchange his yearly revenue for that of the clerk of a Wilde, or a Follett, or a Thesiger.

"I assure you, sir," said he, "I am not a common beggar!"

And the bow with which he put in, what had once been his waistcoat pocket, the piece of silver I gave him, proved it. He shuffled away. I watched him. He entered the nearest gin-palace, challenging three or four of the lowest girls, who were at the door, to come in for a treat."

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PATRIOTIC MEETING OF THE TAXES.

LAST week a meeting of a great many of the Taxes-known to Englishmen-was held at No. 17, Old Bond street, the office of the Society for the Protection of Agricultural and British Industry. It is not for us to attempt to anatomize the whimsical motive that induced the parties composing the meeting to choose such a place of gathering-we have, as chroniclers, only to state the fact. The room was found to be quite large enough for the Taxes attending; for, if all the Taxes known throughout the country had determined upon coming together, perhaps no space short of that of Salisbury Plain would have comfortably accommodated them.

The room was copiously sprinkled with the deodorizing fluid, in consequence of the folly-that, it was feared, might be infectious-remaining from a recent meeting of the Protection Society.

The chancellor of the exchequer took the chair; and, as it appeared to us, very unwillingly addressed the meeting. He said he had consented to the wishes expressed by a deputation, by presiding that day; but he should be wanting in candor, did he not at once declare that he expected no practical good whatever from the present meeting. It appeared that a great many Taxes-touched with remorse and compunction for the cruelty, extortion, and worry they were in the daily habit of exercising upon the comfort and industry of the country-wished to sacrifice themselves; in a word to patriotically render up their existence for the prosperity and happiness of the people in general. Now, however laudable their intention might be--however romantically beautiful in theory-it was impossible, he thought, to reduce it to practice. The tax-gatherer was no other than a soldier out of uniform; it was his business to bleed, and despoil, and entertain no lackadaisical feelings on the matter. His sword was his pen, and his musket his inkhorn. He (the chancellor) had, however, in obedience to a general wish, taken the chair, and would endeavor to the best of his ability to go through the business of the meeting.

his readiness to be offered up to the pious wrath of the sanitary commissioners. They had, it appeared, made their report-a report, which was, in fact, his death warrant. He was glad of it; he received the intelligence with a solemn cheerfulness. And it might be asked-Wherefore? He would at once declare it. He was devoured by remorse and horror. He could not count the deaths that might be lawfully laid at his door. He could not wash away the engrained mortal dye that stained his hands. (Great sensation.) Had he not been made the foster-father of fever? Had not his whole existence been passed in overt acts of darkness? When he appeared in courts and alleys, he was burnt with blushes; not so much for the money he received for light-as though sunbeams were to be weighed in the scales of government like shekels in the scales of the mint-(Cheers)-but for the gloom and consequent filth that his tyranny everywhere enforced. If he blushed to take money for the windows that remained, how much more did he blush for the windows that his oppression had caused to be stopped up-(Cheers)-for the windows that, out of dread of him, had never been pierced? (Loud cheers.) Knowing the sickness he had brought upon the poor, he was weary and ashamed of his life. He however felt it impossible that his existence could continue with any sincere endeavor of the government to amend the household condition of the people. He gave them fair warning. Cholera was coming. He had helped the fiend before-and it was not for him to declare how much he would assist the demon now. In fact, he hardly knew himself. But this he knew

that if he helped Cholera in the courts and alleys of the poor, Cholera would reward him for the assistance by working with added energy in the squares and crescents of the rich. He would no longer be made a boon companion with gloominess. It should no longer be said of Window Tax and Black Obscurity

"And so, between his darkness and his brightness

There passed a mutual glance of great politeness." Te continue the existence of himself-of Window Tax-and to profess a desire for sanitary reform, was the grossest fiscal hypocrisy. It was to make seeming friends of a spirit of light and a fiend of darkness. (Cheers.) In conclusion, Mr. Win

by the benevolent hand of Dr. Southwood Smithon the hearthstone of the poor. If he was still to exist, after any attempted sanitary act, he should think himself ten times the hypocrite he had been all along. (Cheers.)

Mr. Income Tax rose to make the first remonstrance, expressive of a wish that at the end of the present session of Parliament he should be allowed to die with decency. Since begotten by his father, Sir Robert Peel-he wished, as a child, to speak if possible with becoming decency of his parent-dow Tax begged to be immolated-if they would, he had passed a most wretched existence. He had been abused as a tyrant and a despoiler, who had compelled respectable people to give up their gigs who had been put forward as the scapegoat, by husbands, who had reduced their wives' household expenses-and had even been accused of keeping The chairman stroked his chin and said-nothing. families all the year in town, when-before his time Mrs. Taxupontea-a draggled, dirty matron, with -they were always permitted to go to Margate or a very bloated, carbuncled face-rose, and said-or Brighton. Young ladies had been denied their rather hiccuped-that she too was tired of her life. boxes at the play-schoolboys had had their pock- The tax upon her was so heavy, that she was comet-money reduced to half-and all the fault put pelled to go to the gin-shop, when, upon her word upon him. In every parish he was abused as a and honor, and as she wished to be a decent body, contemptible prying rascal-poking his nose into she would much rather prefer to take a dish of every man's pocket, and turning over the leaves of bohea or congou by her own fireside. It was very every man's ledger. In a word, like Curtius, or well to talk about temperance, but it was made to Regulus, or any other heathen patriot, he wished cost too much money. And so the poor went to to be allowed to die for the comfort of the country. the gin-noggin, when otherwise, she was certain The chairman, with a grim look, shook his head. on it, they would rally round the teapot. Mrs. Mr. Window Tax then rose. He said he had Taxupontea concluded a very juniper speech with heard a great deal about a sanita movement. a low curtsey, and a stammering request of the The government, it was said, wished to come be- chairman, to be allowed to die for the benefit of fore the people of England with clean hands. families.' Now, as in the pagan time, the divinities were conciliated by the sacrifice of a victim-he expressed

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A great many other Taxes wished to address the chair, but the right hon. baronet said he had sat

there long enough. He had nothing to say at Scotched, and scored, and lacerated, cauterized, and present, but would give his answer on the floor of the house of commons. Hereupon many Taxes became very boisterous, crowding and pressing about the right hon. gentleman. He was, however, finally rescued by a body of police sent immediately from the home office, by Sir George Grey, upon his hearing of the imminent danger of his cabinet fellow-laborer.

CROCHET SAMPLERS FOR MEMBERS.

Colonel Sibthorpe.-Work one observation, condemnatory of railways in the lump, into every de

Sunk, and swamped, and shelved, and bate on whatever question before the house.

THE NEW IRISH PEACE BILL.

he walks along, nodding to his future assassins, his body coated with the stiff uneasy consciousness that You refused a coercion bill, says an Irish mem- it is viewed by the eyes of deadly sportsmen. For ber to ministers, when there were fifty murders a in Ireland the landlord is the game on his own month, and now you ask for one when there are preserve. Again, in the house on the next only nineteen murders a month. But Sir George grounds, the dinner-bell has rung when the first Grey had already shown, that if the crimes in all shot is heard-but no one goes to the dining-room, Ireland are fewer than they have been at other for papa is out there is a running about the lands periods, there is an alarming increase in certain —a bustle in the hall—the lady of the house leaves districts. And statistics fail to make out the whole the room, followed by her daughters-somebody case. If the "homicides" (the official euphuism has been hurt: "it is papa!" Yes, there he lies, for murder) were to reach four places of figures, a ghastly sight even for alien eyes, but one that the fact would fail to create any very powerful sen- those gentle eyes never forget. In the agent's sation the sight of a single bloodstained bullet house not far off, the shot is heard, and people of the hundreds that have been reddened this sea- look to the doors and windows; for this house is son would do more than the most multitudinous not so strongly defended. But the agent has esfigures. Arithmetic is too abstract for eloquence caped this time. The two other great families and feeling. On the other hand, the cases which hasten off, while yet alive, to Dublin: their agents Sir George recites are too few and too meagre in cannot so easily abandon the place on which a livethe narrative to give any adequate idea of the as-lihood depends; although the postman has distribpect presented by the country in which they occur. uted a circular all round threatening death. So The distant reader, for whom these descriptions are the women remain prisoners in the house, for murprepared, must fill up the picture by the exercise der is abroad in the streets and fields. of the fancy. Imagination must vivify the dry sta- Mike Doherty there, who is running with one tistics. A Carleton or a Lever can teach more, shoe on, is known to have been a murderer before, in quantity, in vividness, and in truth, than these and looks as if he had just been so again. The dry "facts;" the thing wanted being a full idea servants about the house-are they terror-stricken of the social state which pervades the criminal dis- that they cannot see the obvious Doherty, or are trict. It is not because Mr. Roe or Major Mahon they in league with him? are they too murderers? has been murdered that we all agree to a coercion how many of them? which of them? Alas, no one act, but because the bonds of society are loosened; can tell; and the family must sleep at nights conand such letters as those received by Mr. and Mrs. tent to run the chance of having a murderer more M'Causland speak more than the actual "homi- or less on the premises. The spectacle of men cides." The reader, then, must use these raw practising the art of murder, by shooting at an old materials of "facts and figures" to perform for hat, is too common to be a wonderment. So life himself the office of a Carleton or a Lever.

goes on, till the sound of shots by day and the blaze of fires by night grow familiar gossip, like the eruption of the mountain to the inhabitants near a volcano.

When shots, not all of them aimless, are heard every half hour in the day—when bonfires at night are the illumination for some death actually inflicted -it is not difficult to paint the feelings in which The effectual application of Sir George Grey's those of the victim class must pass the hours. One bill to such a neighborhood would totally alter the can see the family of the landlord gathered round daily aspect of the place. The half-hour guns the dinner-table, start at the sound of the gun out- would cease; the most familiar object abroad, in side, not merely as sensitive young ladies in Eng-place of ragamuffin idlers practising at a mark or land will jump, but as those do who familiarly loitering assassins on the watch for the coming of associate the idea of human death with the sound" their murdered man," would be a number of of the fowling-piece. Just as the butler removes green-coated policemen, with guns on their shoulthe first cover-hark! there's a gun! All eyes ders-weapons seldom sounding, and always givare turned towards the father of the house, and ing a sense of protection instead of danger: the are reassured by his presence. No shriek or out- ragged felons running about in all the mad excitecry. The dinner goes on it is half over-another! ment of blood would have retreated, either sulking They listen again; but all are together, and famil- at home in harmless moodiness, or at last returning iarity makes danger not so fearful. It is otherwise to industrious work. But now the terror would in the house on the next property. The family be transferred to different abodes. Once more the are waiting for dinner: the quick dull blow of a women at the great house would breathe at ease. gunshot on the ear strikes dismay in the assembled If a gun were heard a cheek might be pale, but drawing-room-papa has not yet come in! But hope would remain; for papa would be well prohe does come in presently; though gloomy and tected. It is in the cabin now that the sound disordered, because as he walked among his own would strike terror. The wife would clasp her people, servilely bowing to his "honor," he recog- hands and look out: "Oh! is it Mike that has nized in the savage restlessness of their glittering braved the law and brought it down upon himself? eyes that fierce levity which might make them his is it Mike that is to go to prison, and be hanged, assassins the next instant: it was indeed a toss-up or sent out of the land? is it Mike that is helping whether he should reach the hall-door alive; and to keep that terrible police watching the neighbor