knowledge of the native character most accurate. He saw that the system pursued by the Supreme Court was degrading to the government, and ruinous to the people; and resolved to oppose it manfully. The consequence was, that the friendship - if that be the proper word for such a connection which had existed between him and Impey, was for a time completely dissolved. The government placed itself firmly between the tyrannical tribunal and the people. The Chief Justice proceeded to the wildest excesses. The Governor-General and all the nembers of Council were served with summonses, calling on them to appear before the King's justices, and to answer for their public acts. This was too much. Hastings, with just scorn, refused to obey the call, set at liberty the persons wrongfully detained by the Court, and took measures for resisting the outrageous proceedings of the sheriffs' officers, if necessary, by the sword. But he had in view another device, which might prevent the necessity of an appeal to arms. He was seldom at a loss for an expedient; and he knew Impey well. The expedient, in this case, was a very simple one-neither more nor less than a bribe. Impey was, by act of Parliament, a judge, independent of the government of Bengal, and entitled to a salary of £.8,000 a-year. Hastings proposed to make him also a judge in the company's service, removable at the pleasure of the government of Bengal! and to give him, in that capacity, about £.8,000 a-year more, It was understood that, in consideration of this new salary, Impey would desist from urging the high pretensions of his court. If he did urge these pretensions, the government could, at a moment's notice, eject him from the new place which had been created for him. The bargain was struck, Bengal was saved, an appeal to force was averted; and the Chief Justice was rich, quiet, and infa

mous.

Of Impey's conduct it is unnecessary to speak. It was of a piece with almost every part of his conduct that comes under the notice of history. No other such judge has dishonoured the English ermine, since, Jeffries drank himself to death in the Tower. But we cannot agree with those who have blamed Hastings for this transaction. The case stood thus. The negligent manner in which the Regulating Act had been framed, put it in the power of the Chief Justice to throw a great country into the most dreadful confusion. He was determined to use his power to the utmost, unless he was paid to be still; and Hastings consented to pay

him. The necessity was to be deplored. It is also to be deplored that pirates should be able to exact ransom, by threatening to make their captives walk the plank. But to ransom a captive from pirates, has always heen held a humane and Christian act; and it would be absurd to charge the payer of the ransom with corrupting the virtue of the corsair. This, we seriously think, is a not unfair illustration of the relative position of Impey, Hastings, and the people of India. Whether it was right in Impey, to demand or to accept a price for powers which, if they really belonged to him, he could not abdicate — which, if they did not belong to him, he ought never to have usurped - and which in neither case he could honestly sell is one question. It is quite another question, whether Hastings was not right to give any sum, however large, to any man, however worthless, rather than either surrender millions of human beings to pillage, or rescue them by civil war.

Francis strongly opposed this arrangement. It may, indeed, be suspected that personal aversion to Impey was as strong a motive with Francis as regard for the wel fare of the province. To a mind burning with resentment, it might seem better to leave Bengal to the oppressors, than to redeem it by enriching them. It is not improbable, on the other hand, that Hastings may have been the more willing to resort to an expedient agreeable to the Chief Justice, because that high functionary had already been so serviceable, and might, when existing dissensions were composed, be serviceable again.

But it was not on this point alone that Francis was now opposed to Hastings. The peace between them proved to be only a short and hollow truce, during which their mutual aversion was constantly becoming stronger. At length an explosion took place. Hastings publicly charged Francis with having deceived him, and induced Barwell to quit the service by insincere promises. Then came a dispute, such as frequently arises even between honourable men, when they make important agreements by mere verbal communication. An impartial historian will probably be of opinion that they had misunderstood each other; but their minds were so much imbittered, that they imputed to each other nothing less than deliberate villany. I do not, said Hastings, in a minute recorded in the Consultations of the Government-'I do not trust to Mr. Francis's promises of candour, convinced that he is incapable of it.

He

(To be continued at p. 130.)

an English journal, describing the manufac tures of Aberdeen, says:

"

The Aberdonians would seem to be scarcely less celebrated for the manufacture of paper than they are for granite, ships, and combs. Few might be inclined to believe that one million of superfine envelopes' are made daily in this remote region of the kingdom. But in addition to this, one firm manufacture fifty tons of writing paper a week. At their mills at Stoneywood, in the vicinity of Aberdeen, and at the Union Works (the envelope department) in the city itself, they give employment to somewhere about two thousand persons, and as far as regards envelopes, the great proportion of which are folded and stamped by machinery, the Piries are believed to be the greatest makers of the present day. They confine themselves to the production of note paper, envelopes and cards. The business was commenced by the grandfather of the present partners in the year 1770. The manufacture of gray, brown and tea paper is carried on at Waterton and Muggiemoss, two mills a few miles north of Aberdeen, belonging to a firm who turn out eighty-six thousands tons of paper weekly, and fifteen thousand tons of grocers' paper bags, for which latter they have a machine capable of doing the work of twenty women in any given time. They employ altogether about two hundred and fifty-hands. The extent of the Aberdeen paper trade may be gathered from the fact that there are five paper mills within fifteen miles of the city, whereat no

find employment."

The Silence of Scripture. By the Rev. Francis Wharton, D.D., LL.D., rector of St. Paul's Church, Brookline, Massachusetts. Boston, 1887. E. P. Dutton & Co. 12 mo, pp. 122. THE subjects in this volume are freshly and vigorously discussed, and with so much clearness and conclusiveness, as must be satisfactory, in the main, although in one or two cases we should be disposed to take a different ground. Dr. Wharton is an Episcopalian, but devoid of narrow bigotry, accurate in his learning, and earnest in his Christian spirit; and he has produced a book of no ordinary ability. His main object is to suggest plausible reasons for the silence of Scripture on some prominent points, and to demonstrate that such silence, instead of being an evidence of its imperfectness, is a proof of the Divine wisdom which dictated it. Thus, in the several chapters on the creation of the world, the origin of evil, divination, Liturgy, creeds, the Virgin Mary, and the Lord's personal appearance and its relations, he undertakes to show that there is an emphatic silence in regard to certain details, which commends itself to our highest reason. The revealer had a design in this, the wisdom of which we approve, the more closely we study it. To vindicate this wisdom is the author's object, and there is a thoughtfulness, an intelligence, and a clearness, which are admirable, and some of the topics are developed with peculiar tact, and, indeed, originality. - Presbyterian.

CHAPTER XV.

daughter, she's a little silly thing, and I expect to hear of her running away with the

INFANCY.

MRS. TORRING's proposal to invite Miss Varnish, an inmate at the Hall, would bring Miss March into some sort of contact with the family at once. Therefore, the idea, spoken of in the last chapter, was of some interest to her. But it was odd that Mrs. Torring should propose to invite a person against whom she had spoken so strongly and so decidedly. And Eva said as much

herself.

"It is very kind of you, Mrs. Torring. But I am afraid it would hardly be pleasant to you to have Miss Varnish here; and, from what you say of her, I should not very much like her company."

"Like her company? No! There's only one person, I verily believe, who does like her company, and he's a fool for doing so. But I like to have her here, to tell her of her faults. It's the only way I have of doing her any good. And you know, my dear, we ought to do good whenever we can."

66

Certainly, Mrs. Torring. You know Deverington Hall?"

"Yes, my dear; I know it very well, or, rather I used to know it very well. Mrs. Campion and there's another fool for you!- she drives everybody away, with her sulky, grumpy, frumpy way of shutting herself up, and seeing nobody; and people say, Poor thing!' Poor thing,' indeed! I don't pity her the very least in the world!" "Oh! I'm sure you don't mean that, Mrs. Torring!"

"I do mean it, Miss March; and I don't pity her, I say. If she's really ill, why doesn't she have advice? or, rather as she has advice, I know why does'nt she take advice? Why doesn't she go to the seaside, or have shower-baths when she gets up in the morning-if she does get up in the morning or take rum-and-milk to her breakfast? why doesn't she do what the doctors order, if she is ill? If she's well, what right has she to let things all go wrong about, her, as they do?"

"But is there anything particularly wrong about her family ?"

"Particularly wrong, my dear? Why, the family, I do think, are all great fools together; Mr. Campion has a brother, who lives goodness knows where, and only comes home now and then. But I don't know much of him. Ever since I came here, about ten years ago, Mr. Gerald Campion has lived at the hall. They have but one

ting her have that Miss Varnish about her as a governess. While Mrs. Campion shuts herself up in her room, Miss Varnish is making love to Mr. Campion; if his wife doesn't die of herself very soon, that woman will soon poison her, I shouldn't wonder. Now, there's a state of things for you! Ought not they all to be ashamed of themselves?"

"But do you not think, Mrs. Torring, that poor Mrs. Campion may have some sorrow, of which nobody but herself is aware? At least she suffers, we may suppose, as much of distress as she inflicts."

“Hm—well, you're right, my dear; and it's not for us to speak evil one of another. Poor Mrs. Campion! She certainly was, when first I knew her, as gay and lively a woman as you would ever wish to see."

"Then what, Mrs. Torring, could have changed her so much? surely, it must have been her health; or had she ever any accident?"

Law! I don't know. I never heard of her having an accident. But I very well remember when first I heard what a turn she had taken. She had been spending an evening here; and I recollect getting that large portfolio of prints and pictures—you shall see it yourself, my dear, presently; and Mrs. Campion was looking through it, when, all of a sudden, she let it fall out of her hand, and I thought she was going to faint away. I said, Law, ma'am, you find the room too hot, I'm afraid.' Well, the poor thing went home; and when I drove over to see her, a day or two afterwards, I was told that she was seriously ill. And she has been, ever since in the state of which I told you. It's very silly of her- Patterson, my servant, never could bear her. She never says why, but I know she has a very bad opinion of her indeed. By the way, my dear you shall look at the portfolio yourself. Please to get it."

The portfolio was laid on the table; and Mrs. Torring began to direct atention to the pictures in it most worthy of remark. At last, she came upon a portrait in water-colours; and glancing from it to the living face that was bending over the table-she uttered again the familiar "Law!" this time with a greater intensity of surprise than ever.

Eva looked up in questioning astonishment. The old lady's own surprise was very quickly and fully accounted for. The portrait might have been taken from Eva

herself. And it was, in truth, a copy of the portrait in Gravelling Castle, taken, very many years ago, by a friend of Mr. Dykhart's, and by him presented to his aunt, Mrs. Torring. "Julia Somerby" was written underneath it.

66

Why, I never saw such a likeness in my life! the old lady said. "I wonder if you can be any relation to that Miss Somerby? Oh! I beg pardon, I forgot my nephew told me that you were not clear what relations you had. Excuse an old woman's bad memory, my dear. Look through the rest of those things, and then we'll have a game of cards. But can you play at cards?"

"I play a little: I only know a very few games."

"Never mind, I'll teach you a few more. I'm glad you haven't been brought up quite ignorant of them. My niece that I had with me some time, she and I quarrelled very much about that."

"You couldn't teach her to play?" "Couldn't teach her! My dear, the creature wouldn't learn. No: she thought it was wrong-nasty, stupid thing! She went off to bed, rather than see her aunt touch a pack of cards with her little finger. Augh! I hate such nasty ways. So the clergyman who brought you up-I understand you were in part brought up by a clergyman was no Evan?"

"I don't quite understand you, Mrs. Torring."

"You don't know what I mean by an 'Evan?' I mean an Evangelical. Your friend was not of the Evangelical school? He didn't tell his people it would be all up with them if they touched a pack of cards with their little fingers?"

"I don't think Mr. Ferrier had any strong objection to cards, though I don't think he played himself. I think he was at all times rather backward in judging others."

"And you think I am rather forward in doing so? Well, my dear, and perhaps I am. But I don't like to see people right eous overmuch. You know we are warned against that; and 1 often tell Mr. Grooby that's our clergyman that he ought to preach upon that text once a-year. I do like the words myself. I always repeat them when anybody finds fault with my playing at cards."

66

They retired early; and Mrs. Torring inducted Eva into the office of reading family prayers. On the next day they went twice to church. It is hardly needful to say that the cards were heard of no more until Monday, Mrs. Check departed

on the morning of that day, entrusted by Eva with the message (in case she saw any of their mutual friends), that Miss March had little doubt of passing a happy time with Mrs. Torring, whether that time were or were not extended beyond the appointed month. And the week went quietly and regularly on. They had one or two little sober parties, if the name could be given to gatherings including so small a number of guests. One element of disturbance pursued Eva into this new and quiet retreat.

She had at first felt a little doubtful of liking Mrs. Torring, but sure of liking Patterson, the servant. Now, however, when the first few days were over, her feelings towards these two persons appeared to be undergoing an absolute reverse. She became sure of liking Mrs. Torring; and the more she penetrated through the crust of oddity which concealed the solid excellence within, the better satisfied she felt with the protection under which she had placed herself.

But one or two things in the behaviour of Patterson perplexed her very much. It was not that the woman grew less pleasingly attentive. To Mrs. Torring she could not have rendered a more complete, nor, it would seem, a more hearty service. But she followed Miss March about with inquiring eyes, and scrutinised her so seriously, although so silently, that, of course, she provoked a great degree of curiosity in her

turn.

On the Saturday morning that is, on the 13th of the month Mrs. Torring was poorly, and Eva was left to breakfast by herself. The things were removed by Patterson herself, who lingered in the room, with a show of dusting the table, &c. Eva noticed, that, wherever the woman might begin, she ever and anon brought her duster back to the chair on which she herself was sitting. She asked if Miss March continued to find her room comfortable, and waited for the answer as though a negative might doom her to death. Then she began dusting the very chair on which Eva continued quietly to sit, although she would have liked to quit the room. Then she came closer still.

"I beg your pardon, Miss; I think some grease has got upon your sleeve. Just do allow me to take it off," and Patterson, bent on this duty, pulled up the sleeve towards the wrist.

"Thank you, miss. I think it will do now;" she said the moment after. And verily, and indeed, the work was most efficiently performed. For not a speck of grease could the keenest eye of the dainti

Patterson might well regard her work with the triumph which rarely appeared to possess her. But for that day Eva saw very little more of her.

Mingled with all the curiosity with which this rather suspicious conduct filled Eva, there was in her mind an odd conviction, not simply that it might be explained, but that she had the key to such explanation: only she wanted the faculty to insert and apply it. It was a considerable relief to her, when, not many minutes later, the post arrived, and brought a letter for herself.

Alas! the remedy was a great deal worse than the disease. The letter was that which M'Quantigan had hastily written on the previous Wednesday. It had been forwarded to Minchley by Dr. Dowlas (under the advice of Mr. Lewis), and had, by the Ballows, been despatched again to Eva at Chelford. This fully accounted for its delay in coming. Nor could that delay have ever been too long to please our heroine. The contents of the letter are known to ourselves and the nature of the feelings excited by it, it need not trouble us to guess.

Eva sent it back to Mr. Ballow, begging of him to inform the writer that his claim upon her, as her father, was a baseless and fictitious one; and that he could not be justified in seeking a continuance of the intercourse which under different circumstances, she had not felt at liberty to deny him. Mr. Leyburn, in the division of the late Mr. Gryffyth's property, had insisted that Miss March should accept at his hands a sum of money, as a token of his regard for her upright and discreet behaviour. That money would now, most probably, be lying in the hands of the Welsh attorney.

As Mr. M'Quantigan had written in the honest belief that Eva was his daughter, she should be glad she said, if Mr. Ballow approved, that the ten pounds which was asked of her, should be given to the Irishman, with a thorough understanding that neither that, nor any other acknowledgment would thenceforth be accorded him. Any danger to poor Mrs. Roberts from his disappointment might be considered as now no longer imminent.

Mrs. Torring appeared at their early dinner: and as she came in, Eva heard her say to Patterson, who came in along with her," You can't do it to-day, Patterson : it's too rainy. You shall do it on Monday, if it's fine."

That Saturday was a rainy day indeed. But it allowed Mrs. Torring and Eva to

noon. They went a short way into the country, and were walking back towards Chelford, when they were met by a carriage.

No one was inside, except one lady, and several inanimate passengers, wrapped up in several shades of white and brown paper.

Mrs. Torring called out a "How do you do?" to the animated occupant of the vehicle (there was a man on the box driving), and then explained to Eva; "This is the creature I dislike so much, Miss Varnish, you know, the governess at Deverington Hall.

The carriage stopped; and Mrs. Torring stepped off the footpath, to inquire after Mrs. Campion.

Miss Varnish was not a plain woman, but she had not beauty sufficient to blind you to a certain slyness in her countenance. She had a way of looking at you, after every word she said, as if asking you whether you altogether believed her. She fixed her suspicious eyes on Eva; they were suspicious towards every stranger. "You have one of your nieces with you, Mrs. Torring?

66

No such thing, Miss Varnish. This is a young lady lately come - let me see, out of Wales." Eva was all this while on the causeway, and did not hear what was said of her. "This is Miss March, and she is engaged to be married to a gentleman, who has not got a wife already, Miss Varnish."

"Ha, ha, ha! I see you will have your joke, Mrs. Torring! Now, how can you be so shockingly sarcastic? You were just now asking about poor dear Mrs. Campion. She is much the same as ever; no change that I can see."

"Ha! now I shouldn't wonder at her lasting much longer than you suppose. And then, Miss Varnish, you'll have your joke."

Miss Varnish said something to the effect that Mrs. Torring was in one of her droll humours "to-day," and then the carriage drove on its way, and our friends resumed theirs.

"Doesn't she look sly?" was the old lady's first remark. "You saw what a lot of parcels she had got? Now, I've not the least doubt in the world that she buys things for herself with Mr. Campion's money."

"Oh! Mrs. Torring, is it right to say so? - that is, without actual proof of such a thing?"

"Proof!' I want no sort of proof, except the vicious look there is about her eyes,