that society, in the abstract, might be somewhat remiss in the performance of its duty, I ordered some fuel and groceries, and went home, feeling myself to be an embodiment of the whole social economy.

That night I dreamed that I was playing in a very poor and very tiresome tragedy, called Life, and that I was suddenly called on to take the part of Brutus, the Roman father.

III.

The course of retributive justice, as administered here on earth, has more different paces than Rosalind has attributed to time; but those with whom it lags withal' are not often the poor and friendless. A few days only clapsed before I was summoned as a witness to attend the trial of Alice Sumner. In the meantime, both Mr Bullion and myself made great but fruitless efforts to obtain a further insight into the true facts of the case. The prisoner herself made no confession, but constantly asserted her innocence, to the great discomfiture of the broker, and the unutterable perplexity of myself. I sought in vain for a flaw in the chain of evidence against her, or a chance to establish her innocence by other facts. Even the general testimony of good character, the last frail reed on which she leaned, seemed to bend beneath her. She and her mother had but lately come to the city, and to all our inquiries as to their former home and friends, we received only courteous, but evasive answers. It was evident that some dark cloud of sorrow, if not crime, hung over their past history; and this, while it did not diminish the interest I felt in her, sadly weakened my confidence in her defence.

It was the day before the trial, and I sat in my office musing painfully on the dark features of the case, when a stranger entered. The first glance assured me that he was one of a class of clients with which most of our city lawyers are familiar. A seedy, decrepid old man, humble, yet querulous, dejected, and yet visionary, bearing about a tattered and worn collection of papers, and pitifully urging his tale of wrong and suffering, from which the patient listener gleans at the same time a belief that the sad tale is true, and a melancholy conviction that knavery has so cunningly hidden, or time so long obliterated. the evidences of the

wrong, that no court, save that of the Omniscient, can ever set right.

I turned from the man more pettishly than I should have done but for the subject that engrossed my thoughts. The poor old man's spirits were too much broken to take offence at my rudeness. Beseechingly he added:

'I did not mean to give you trouble for nothing, sir. I have but little to offer you now, but I will pay you liberally when I gain my case. You shall have -you see I mean to be generous-let me see I cannot recover less than twenty thousand dollars—it may be thirty, or even forty-and you shall have a quarter of it all. Think of that, sir! Ten thousand dollars for one case!' And my client threw himself back in his chair, feeling for the thousandth time, poor fellow ! that his troubles were almost over, and the phantom, in pursuit of which his life had been wasted, at least within his grasp. No doubt, in his blissful vision, he already began to look on me as a recipient of his bounty, and to wonder at the coolness with which I regarded the glittering prize before me. But I had had many such clients before, and, when I was very young at the bar, had been dazzled more than once in the same way.

How much can you afford me as a retainer?'

'Now?' He seemed to be engaged in an abstruse calculation as if over the resources of a nation. 'Ten thousand dollars when the case is finished, say six months or a year hence. Suppose we say five dollars, sir, on account.'

There was something so painfully eager in the look that accompanied these words, that I suppressed the smile which had been prompted by the pathos in his offer, and signified my acceptance. My client drew from his pocket a lank purse, and from the purse a solitary coin. Poor dreamer! he was paying his all for this one more ticket in the lottery.

his

I had opened my lips to bid him leave papers and take back the coin, when my eye fell on it. One scrutinising glance, and I jumped from my seat as if electrified by the little piece of gold.

'Where did you get this money, sir?' A transient gleam of former fire shone in the old man's eye.

'I do not see, sir, what that has to do with my case.'

'By heavens!' I shouted, collaring the old man, and fairly lifting him out of his seat: 'if you do not tell me this instant

Just at this moment my office-door opened to admit my learned and eloquent brother, Flourish. What that eminent counsel thought of the scene, I do not care to guess. The personal appearance of my client was not suggestive of any temptation to a felonious assault, nor did his manner indicate any provocation which could have called for chastisement; and these two suppositions being impossible, Mr Flourish stared with undisguised amazement at my unprofessional conduct. His presence brought me to myself, and, with many apologies, I explained that this coin, which, as my hearers would notice, was peculiarly marked, had formerly been in my own possession, and that I was anxious, for particular reasons, to trace its subsequent history. The old man hesitated and stammered, and cast so many side-glances at the door, that I began to think we had fallen upon one of the chief conspirators. Here Mr Flourish came to my assistance, with his blandest smile, and most mellifluous tone, and in five minutes had drawn from my client all that he knew about it. Assuring myself that he would attend and testify to the same facts on the following day, I dismissed him, and then rapidly recounted to Flourish the facts of the case. The hard old lawyer listened complaisantly, and when I had finished, dryly expressed an opinion that the young woman should be acquitted.

I had conceived a hope, while telling the story, of interesting Mr Flourish sufficiently in the case to induce him to undertake the management of the defence. For that task I felt myself disqualified by other causes beside my want of experience in criminal law. I was liable to be called as a witness for the prosecution, and was a most important one for the defence; and, above all, I felt that my own personal sympathies were too strongly excited for the prisoner, to manage the affair with requisite coolness and skill. Flourish, however, who saw in the case nothing but a very commonplace incident of criminal practice, was not easily to be persuaded. The sensibilities of an elderly lawyer, in large practice, lie very far down, and are covered by a thick rind of worldly wisdom.

'Consider, my dear sir,' said he, 'how many cases of this kind are occurring every day, and how precious my time is to me. 'Pon my word, my clients would be in a pretty mess if I spent my time on petty affairs like this.'

Petty affair to you, Mr Flourish, I know, but not to that young girl, the fate of whose whole life here, and perhaps hereafter, hangs on that trial. One hour of such assistance as yours may save her.'

'Really, Quidam

'If such a fee as I could offer out of my own pocket would tempt you

'It would tempt me, sir, if you offered it. It would tempt me to kick you out of your own office, and then go home, feeling that I had broken friendship with the softest-hearted, simplest-headed fool at the bar. Why, man, you would turn the whole fraternity into a gang of knighterrants, roaming up and down Wall Street, seeking to set this crooked world straight again.

'And so they ought to be, Mr Flourish.'

'Hum! I can't say I'm ready to give an opinion on that matter. But the girl, I see, is fairly on my hands. I'll just step down and tell my young men to put one or two things off till next day, and come back to go over the case again with you.'

Glorious old Flourish! The sensibilities are there, after all, hard as it is to find them. Beneath all this rich clients, and worldly wisdom, and long briefs, there is a true man's heart beating still, as there is in the bosom of many a hard-faced, wrinkled old lawyer beside. Fraud, and wrong, and heartlessness there are among us, God knows! But He, and He only, knows, also, the deeds that have been done in secret in those dingy, dusty offices, which shall stand forth effulgently when the great book is opened at the Judgment-day!

IV.

I was busy with the police authorities that evening, and had no time to communicate with Alice; but the next morning, when I saw her brought into court, looking so broken-hearted and helpless, I blamed myself for having left her thus to drink the cup of bitterness to the very dregs. In a few whispered words I bade her be of good cheer; but she scarcely seemed to heed me at all, so oppressed

spent my money in the law, sir; but I am going to get it all back soon. You must know I have a case, sir

From the details of Mr Grosvenor's case, we were saved by the district attorney. His hawk-eye had caught a glimpse of his chief witness gliding softly through the crowd, toward the door.

'Mr Forceps! Mr Forceps! Officer, close that door, and let no man pass,' he thundered 'Bring that witness back here!'

Flushed with excitement, his fine form drawn up to its utmost height, and his glorious eyes flashing with indignation, at the foul wrong which had been attempted and almost effected in the sacred name of justice, he stood, surrounded by an astonished group, the only one that seemed to retain any self-possession. Even we who had been in the secret, and planned the surprise, were less masters of the scene. He looked, indeed, all that he was-the faithful minister of retributive justice, magnifying his office by a love of right, before which all petty ambitions sank into nothing

ness.

Alas! that form and face live only in the memory of us who loved him. A sad, sad day it was when we heard that the lustre of those eyes was dimmed in untimely death; and heavy hearts, mourning as but few sorrows can make strong men mourn, had we, the funeral train, when the bar followed their chieftain to the tomb. In the midst of his years and his labours, as a great ship goes down in the van of the battle, so went he down into the depths of the grave.

It scarcely need be added, that the jury acquitted Alice, without leaving their box, and that the pawnbroker, charged both with uttering counterfeit coin, and with perjury, slept that night in the cell she had left. Perhaps some time I may tell of what afterwards happened to her, as well as to my old client, and his interminable case. But now there is sadness on my heart, as I think of that scene in court, and I am garrulous no longer.

SINGULAR INCIDENT. Several years ago there was a charity sermon given out to be preached, one Sabbath evening, in a dissenting chapel, at a seaport town in the west of England. When the preacher ascended the pulpit, he thus addressed his hearers: 'My brethren, before proceeding to the duties of

this evening, allow me to relate a short anecdote. Many years have now elapsed since I was last within the walls of this house. Upon that evening the pastor of the congregation (of which many now present must have formed a part) addressed his hearers for the same benevolent purpose as that for which I am now about to appeal to you. Among the hearers came three evil-disposed young men, with the intention not only of scoffing at the minister of God, but with their pockets filled with stones for the purpose of assaulting him. After the minister had spoken a few sentences, one of the three said, "Damn him, let us be at him." But the second replied, "No, stop till we hear what he makes of this point." The minister went on for some time, when the second said, "We've heard enough nowthrow!" But the third interfered, saying, "He's not so foolish as I expected; let us hear him out." The preacher concluded his discourse without being interrupted, and went home amidst the blessings of his hearers, and the approbation of God to his heart. Now mark me, my brethren. Of these three young men, one of them was executed a few months ago, at Newgate, for forgery; the second at this moment lies under the sentence of death in the jail of this city for murder; the other,' continued the minister, with great emotion -'the third, through the infinite goodness of God, is even now about to address you-listen to him!'

་

THE WORK OF CREATION.

The Creator has spoken, and the stars look out from openings of deep unclouded blue; and as day rises, and the planet of morning pales in the east, the broken cloudlets are transmuted from bronze into gold, and anon the gold becomes fire, and at length the glorious sun arises out of the sea, and enters on his course rejoicing. It is a brilliant day; the waves, of a deeper and softer blue than before, dance and sparkle in the light; the earth, with little else to attract the gaze, has assumed a garb of brighter green; and as the sun declines amid even richer glories than those which had encircled his rising, the moon appears full-orbed in the east

to the human eye the second great luminary of the heavens-and climbs slowly to the zenith as night advances, shedding its mild radiance on land and sea. Again the day breaks; the prospect consists, as before, of land and ocean. There are great

pine woods, reed-covered swamps, wide plains, winding rivers, and broad lakes; and a bright sun shines over all. But the landscape derives its interest and novelty from a feature unmarked before. Gigantic birds stalk along the sands, or wade far into the water in quest of their ichthynic food, while birds of lesser size float upon the lakes, or scream discordant in hovering flocks, thick as insects in the calm of a summer evening, over the narrower seas, or brighten with the sunlit gleam of their wings the thick woods. And ocean has its monsters; great 'leviathans' tempest the deep as they heave their huge bulk over the surface, to inhale the life-sustaining air; and out of their nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a 'seething-pot or caldron.' Monstrous creatures, armed in massive scales, haunt the rivers, or scour the flat rank meadows; earth, air, and water, are charged with animal life, and the sun sets upon a busy scene, in which unerring instinct pursues unremittingly its few simple ends-the support and preservation of the individual, the propagation of the species, and the protection and maintenance of the young. Again the night descends, for the fifth day has closed; and morning breaks on the sixth and last day of creation. Cattle and beasts of the field graze on the plains; the thick-skinned rhinoceros wallows in the marshes; the squat hippopotamus rustles among the reeds, or plunges sullenly into the river; great herds of elephants seek their food amid the young herbage of the wood; while animals of fiercer nature-the lion, the leopard, and the bear-harbour in deep caves till the evening, or lie in wait for their prey amid tangled thickets, or beneath some broken bank. At length, as the day wanes and the shadows lengthen, man, the responsible lord of creation, formed in God's own image, is introduced upon the scene, and the work of creation ceases for ever upon the earth. The night falls once more upon the prospect, and there dawns yet another morrow, the morrow of God's rest—that divine Sabbath in which there is no more creative labour, and which, 'blessed and sanctified' beyond all the days that had gone before, has as its special object the moral elevation and final redemption of man. And over it no evening is represented in the record as falling, for its special work is not yet complete. Such seems to have been the sublime panorama of creation exhibited in vision of old to

The shepherd who first taught the chosen seed,

In the beginning how the heavens and earth Rose out of chaos;'

and, rightly understood, I know not a single scientific truth that militates against even the minutest or least prominent of its details.-Hugh Miller.

TO PRESERVE BOUQUETS.

When you receive a bouquet, sprinkle it lightly with fresh water. Then put it into a vessel containing some soap-suds; this will nutrify the roots, and keep the flowers bright as new. Take the bouquet out of the suds every morning, and lay it sideways (the sock entering first) into clean water, keep it there a minute or two, then take it out, and sprinkle the flowers lightly by the hand with water. Replace it in the soap-suds, and it will bloom as fresh as when first gathered. The soap-suds need changing every three or four days. By observing these rules, a bouquet can be kept bright and beautiful for at least a month, and will last still longer in a very passable state; but attention to the fair but frail creatures, as directed above, must be strictly observed, or all will perish.

WATERING HOUSE PLANTS

Care

Requires considerable caution. should be taken not to fall into the extremes of 'too much or too little.' Fear of spoiling the carpet, forgetfulness, and the chief causes of an under supply of sometimes fear of injuring the plant, are water. On the other hand, many have a notion that such plants should be watered every day, or at stated periods, without inquiring whether it be necessary or not. Saucers or pans are often placed under flower-pots to prevent the water which escapes from soiling the apartment; but in these cases the saucers should be partially filled with gravel, to prevent the roots from being soaked with water, or else the water which lodges in the saucer should be removed.

HENRY STEPHENS.

In the printing-house of this great scholar, every person spoke Latin, from the garret to the kitchen, from the master to the old maid who served the shop. The brothers were so very anxious to have all books accurately printed at their press, that, after diligently examining every sheet twice before they printed it off, they put out a third proof at their door, and promised a louis d'or to any person that should find a fault in it.