CHAP. XIV.

have a chat with you before the others arrive. I shall be riding into Marsham to-morrow:

SWEARS TO SOME PURPOSE.

The older I grow and the more I see the great waste of peace there may be in needless questioning, the less prone I am to controversy about matters I can do as well without investigating. I can wait with patience all my life.. long, without solving the question whether the first seven days were no longer than days of mine, or each as a thousand years. And my mind need not lack exercise either; for, without settling the point, I can mark by land or by sea, in sunshine and cloud, springing herbage and great gulf-stream, that all was well done. Truly I am the greatest of wonders to myself. I stretch out my hand: there is the scar where I cut my finger in slicing a pear for mamma five-andtwenty years ago. I know my skin has been renewed over and over again, yet there it is. Somewhere I have a miscellaneous receptacle called memory, in which things lie lost, sometimes for years; and the nturn up at the oddest times. A dimness is over certain periods of my life; they were times of sorrow, yet I like not to think them lost. That which lives in memory is still ours; and I believe their record "is not dead, but sleepeth." I have a fancy that what we call "memory" is part of our real house in the heavens-that it has a visible form to the angels; and, as even here a good spirit often shines dimly through the fleshy form, the form they see is all a reality of what we are. Oh, if we could but see ourselves, not as others-blind as ourselves-see us, but as angels see us!

wan

My moralization is not quite à propos de rien, though certainly I have dered from its origin. I came in this afternoon from a long, sunny walk, sat down to tea, and who should appear, but old Squire Wainwright -a most amiable, kind grand-daddy in respect to Helen, and a perfect gentleman of the old school in his manner towards myself. He accepted a cup of tea, and invited me to Darliston, to meet Mr. Ainslie and one of his daughters, next evening. "You'll come early?" he said. "Be sure to come early, for Helen will like to

new gown? a ribbon-what colour, Mrs. Gainsborough ?"

“I should say a lace-collar and sleeves, Mr. Wainwright."

"Very well. I know real lace when I see it, for I've worn it myself, Mrs. Gainsborough ; though you may hardly think it."

Without question, good is this reconciliation.

Next morning I spied Helen coming down the hill-side. She had a handful of violets for me, and looked, as I felt, very happy at our meeting again. Her grandfather knew of her coming, and had said, “Ask Mrs. Gainsborough if any. thing is wanted for the evening; and if she says you ought to have it, get it."

"It's the coffee I am puzzled about," said Helen. "Grandfather says we are to have coffee; but we cannot serve it up to the company in a tin coffee-pot, as we have it ourselves. I do not like to ask for a plated or metal coffeepot, when I have had two new teapots within the year. The first, you know, was stolen. If I have it served up in a jug it would be starved; and cold coffee will never do."

I offered to lend mine for the occasion; but Helen shook her head.

66

'No, I am very much obliged to you; he would not like it, I know. I must not borrow. There is one thing I have thought of, but I do not know if it may not seem ridiculous-"

"Do not be afraid of suggesting, Helen." "It's an old thing that stands on the top shelf, of the corner cupboard in the parloura sort of tall tankard with a lid. In shape it is not unlike a coffee-pot-that is, a tin one." “I should think it might do."

Nanny will be delighted to polish it up, for she has a great respect for it, and insists that the mounting is silver."

"Are we to be favoured with your cousin's society this evening, Helen?"

"I hope not; I am almost sure he is going to the races. He spoke of it yesterday. Grandfather was rather severe, and told him he would be much better employed in minding his farm; so Grant said The Rood was thriving in his

B