Law he seemed to understand what had happened, and resumed his employment. A wide-spreading yew-tree grew in this part of the churchyard, and near it stood a small cross rudely carved in granite, marking the spot where, in the reign of Henry VI., Ralph Cliderhow, tenth abbot of Whalley, held a meeting of the tenantry, to check encroachments. Not far from this ancient cross the sexton, a hale old man, with a fresh complexion and silvery hair, was at work, and while the others went on, Master Potts paused to say a word to him.

"You have a funeral here to-day, I suppose, Master Sexton?" he said.

"Yeigh," replied the man, gruffly.

"One of the villagers?" inquired the attorney.

"Neaw; hoo were na o' Goldshey," replied the sexton. "Where then-who was it?" persevered Potts.

The sexton seemed disinclined to answer; but at length said, "Meary Baldwyn, the miller's dowter, o' Rough Lee, os protty a lass os ever yo see, mester. Hoo wur the apple o' her feayther's ee, an he hasna had a dry ee sin hoo deed. Wall-a-dey! we mun aw go, owd an young-owd an young-an protty Meary Baldwyn went young enough. Poor lass! poor lass!" and he brushed the dew from his eyes with his brawny hand. "Was her death sudden?" asked Potts.

"Neaw, not so sudden, mester," replied the sexton. "Ruchot Baldwyn had fair warnin'. Six months ago Meary wur ta'en ill, an fro' t' furst he knoad how it wad eend."

"How so, friend?" asked Potts, whose curiosity began to be aroused. "Becose" replied the sexton, and he stopped suddenly short. "She was bewitched?" suggested Potts.

The sexton nodded his head, and began to ply his mattock vigorously. By Mother Demdike ?" inquired Potts, taking out his memorandumbook.

The sexton again nodded his head, but spake no word, and, meeting some obstruction in the ground, took up his pick to remove it.

"Another case!" muttered Potts, making an entry. "Mary Baldwyn, daughter of Richard Baldwyn, of Rough Lee, aged-How old was she, sexton ?"

66

Throtteen," replied the man; "boh dunna ax me ony more questions, mester. Th' berrin takes place i' an hour, an ey hanna half digg'd

th' grave.'
"Your own name, Master Sexton? and I have done," said Potts.
"Zachariah Worms," answered the man.

"Worms-ha! an excellent name for a sexton," cried Potts. provide food for your family, eh, Zachariah?"

"You

"Tut-tut," rejoined the sexton, testily, "go an moind yer own bus'ness, mon, an leave me to moind mine."

66

Very well, Zachariah," replied Potts. And having obtained all he required, he proceeded to the little hostel, where, finding the rest of the party had dismounted, he consigned Flint to a cowherd, and entered the house.

tunate

MISS AMELIA BARBER.

A SKETCH OF REAL LIFE.

MISS AMELIA BARBER was a spinster of a certain age: her toadies flattered her into the belief that she was young, whilst impartial judges pronounced her decidedly in the sear and yellow leaf. In person she was tall and very straight, with an elongated face, containing a sharp nose, a pair of piercing black eyes, and that sour, austere expression of countenance peculiar to the disappointed and splenetic. The small markettown of had the honour of numbering her amongst its inhabitants. She lived in a small boarding-house kept by the relict of a half-pay captain, who also boarded and lodged the lamented widow of Mr. Nash, a worthy butcher; Miss Starchley, a second edition of our heroine; a Mrs. Macscrew and Mrs. O'Flighty; and a clerk of the firm of Messrs. Grind, Pinch, and Longpurse, the principal attorneys of the town. This unforled young gentleman a sad life. From nine in the morning till eight o'clock in the evening, Messrs. G., P., and L. fagged, scolded, and bullied him, and when he, after having endured this for the sake of earning his scanty salary (which was always grudgingly given to him), returned home, if home it could be called, was assailed by his landlady, who, not considering him a profitable inmate of her establishment, thought that the sooner he turned his coat-tails on Virginia House the more advantageous would it prove to her, and she therefore took every opportunity to let him become acquainted with the state of her mind on the subject; and the spinsters and widows, not considering him as eligible for conquest or even for a mild flirtation, vented on him their superfluous spleen. He would willingly have fled from his tormentors, but poverty laid its iron grasp upon his shoulder and stopped him; he had no means of living beyond his hard-earned salary, and Virginia House possessed that great attraction to a scanty purse-viz., cheapness.

But it is with one inmate alone of Mrs. Stintem's establishment that we intend to interest our readers, and that individual is Miss Amelia Barber. We have already described her person; her income was like her figure, very slender, being only eighteen pounds per quarter, and an occasional present from her only rich relative. With these means she might have kept a lodging-house, or perhaps even have taught the young idea, but she had a fiftieth cousin a baronet, who formerly held an estate in the neighbourhood, and our heroine possessed that great mental infirmity, false pride, so that to endeavour to increase her income by any honest mode of living was beneath the dignity of a fiftieth cousin of Sir Barber Carelesscash. How the world teems with Miss Amelia Barbers! But, like other victims to false pride, she was not ashamed to be occasionally mean. She had an inordinate love of dress, was fond of the mild gaiety of evening parties, given to patronise bible and missionary meetings-and of course had to pay pretty freely for the latter enjoyment-and above all did she love the good things of this life, with the adjunct of table-talk, not exactly à la Dr. Johnson, but partaking very much of the nature of gossip. But how were all these luxuries to be supported? She was always to be seen at the card-table at evening parties, where she played with untiring perseverance, and nothing but the blandishments of supper would lure her from the spot. It was by her singular luck in whist, écarté,

&c., that she was enabled to support the dignity becoming a fiftieth cousin of Sir Barber Carelesscash; for as Miss Starchely sneeringly observed, she always managed to turn up the queen; and this is the way that many of both sexes find the funds for their menus plaisirs by this gambling in a small way. Flattering herself that she was religiously inclined, she attended three times on Sunday the fashionable chapel of ease, and occasionally the parish church, where the Rev. Septimus Loosefish, who was given to drinking, and (as rumour darkly hinted) many other anti-clerical habits, mumbled and dozed over the service. It was a glorious sight on a fine Sunday afternoon to see Miss Amelia, accompanied by some other damsels of the same age and standing in society as herself, dressed in cheap but effective elegances of toilet, arranged in a juvenile and killing manner, sailing swan-like down the quiet Highstreet, or promenading some well-frequented walk. Her dignity on these occasions beggars all description.

She had been for some few years thus pursuing the even tenor of her way, when an important change came o'er the spirit of her dream. Near the town was a piece of waste ground for building. The inhabitants were in doubt whether they were going to have a gin-palace, a theatre, or a Methodist chapel erected thereon. Numerous were the conjectures. As is the case in most towns and villages, they were overstocked with ginpalaces and pot-houses. The theatrical sect (unfortunately not numerous) wished for a theatre, as the barn let for two months every year to the votaries of Thalia and Melpomene was situated at a most inconvenient distance from the town, and the few playgoers were not so very much bitten with the dramatic mania as to wade through a narrow lane of a murderous reputation, then cross two fields, in one of which Farmer Stubborn's ferocious bull meandered, to visit Manager Groandeep and his interesting family, which, with three dissipated-looking individuals, comprised the corps dramatique.

But the Methodist chapel gained the day, and was in a short space of time erected. It was a plain, mean-looking building, a cross between a small minor theatre and a temperance hall. And now, to plunge in medias res at once, the chapel had been in existence three or four months, but Miss Barber, a rigid churchwoman, refused to enter the unconsecrated temple till Miss Starchley's glowing description of Mr. Allcant, the minister, induced her one Sunday evening, in company with the aforesaid Miss Starchley, to enter the much-despised building, which was called Zion Chapel. A seedy and rather suspicious-looking individual read a few extempore prayers, their chief beauty consisting in the entire absence of grammar from any one sentence: the letter "h" he treated shamefully. A few hymns were sung with more apparent zeal than regard to time or tune. Towards the close of the sixth, a tall, self-satisfied-looking man slowly mounted the pulpit-stairs. Cupid (we are ascending to metaphor) was behind him, and, drawing his bow, shot his dart with unerring aim right through our heroine's heart, or (in order to adapt ourselves to the meanest capacity) she saw, and seeing, loved. From that hour the fair Amelia became a new woman. Every Sunday evening she attended chapel, was at every Methodist tea and bible meeting, held the plate when occasion required such a service, subscribed to the Society for providing Hottentots with Coals and Blankets, and performed numerous other extravagances. Finally, she abandoned the church and went regularly to hear that dear, good Mr. Allcant, as she was wont to call that interest

ing specimen of the genus homo. She even renounced cards and soirées, and only indulged in the dissipation of tea and other religious meetings and evening lectures. But this change in her habits and mode of life somewhat soured her temper, which was never very mild; and, in order to sustain her spirits, she was in the habit of taking frequently a little strengthening medicine as she called it; but the servant, a matter-offact young woman, said that the physic in question was nothing else but the real Geneva, and she ought to know, as she frequently made herself acquainted with the contents of the bottle on its road from the publichouse to Miss Barber's bedchamber. Her Methodistical habits caused her to be shunned by her former associates. Mrs. Stintem's boarders led a sad life with her, for her arguments on religious topics were so vehement and so intolerant, particularly after a dose of the medicine, that, driven to desperation, they made a powerful cabal against her, and she left Virginia House and boarded with a serious family of a Christian church, as they styled themselves in their advertisements. Mr. Allcant was a constant visitor at this establishment. A brief memoir of this gentleman, previous to his instalment at Zion Chapel, may not be uninteresting. He had spent his early days as apprentice to a linendraper doing a small business. Inordinately vain and fond of amusement, his small salary could not suffice for his numerous wants; his master was a most unsuspicious individual, more the pity for him, as such people seem born only to be plundered and bullied. But the simplest man has his eyes opened some time or another, and so had Mr. Loveman, for one fine night he discovered his faithful and innocent apprentice in the act of removing a few superfluous coins from the shop-till into his own pocket. Mr. Loveman was humane to a fault, for this was by no means a first offence. Suffice it to say that he merely discharged him, and his assistant's iniquities were veiled from the public eye. And after some few disreputable adventures did Mr. Allcant turn his powerful mind to the saving of souls. He commenced his pious career on a tub-(great men have small beginnings)—good luck made him minister of a chapel in a small town famous for the extreme piety of its inhabitants, and sufficiently dull to have satisfied the most inveterate enemy to the pleasures of life, but, spite of its pious reputation, as scandalous as any country town in our sea-girt isle, and that is saying much. But Mr. Allcant was not long destined to remain one of the shining lights of this delightful spot. His affection for his neighbour's property still continued in all its pristine vigour. Charity sermons and tea meetings were very frequent, and a great portion of the very liberal collection (for your Methodists are certainly liberal) found a haven in his sacred pocket. But this occurred once too often, and Mr. Allcant resigned the ministry of Zion Chapel, wisely foreseeing that if he did not do so he would most unceremoniously have been kicked out. The reader now finds him pursuing his vocation at

And now the inhabitants have found a fresh and fertile topic of conversation for the tea-table, and that is the approaching marriage of Mr. Allcant with Miss Amelia Barber. The minister's acute mind imagined our heroine the possessor of a snug property. Strange fancies will take root in men's brains-and is not the arch fiend himself sometimes overreached?-and Miss Amelia, matrimony in view and medicine in head, had thrown out, when in his company, dark hints of rich legacies, of an unencumbered annuity, &c., and the bait took, and Mr. Alleant proposed, and, after a judicious display of maiden coyness, was accepted.

Our readers will now imagine the wedding morn arrived; that auspicious day, as novelists style it. The day itself was not remarkable either for extreme brightness or dulness. It might remain fine all day, or it might rain at the shortest notice. Miss Amelia Barber, in virgin white, gave her hand to the betrothed of her heart, whilst he endowed her with all his worldly goods, which constituted nil. After the ceremony, the happy pair (again adopting newspaper phraseology) proceeded to Cheltenham to spend a week's honeymoon. The following morning, over a late breakfast, Mr. Allcant, with lover-like impatience, put the question relative to the state of her exchequer. He was answered in these re

markable words:

"My dear Ebenezer, love like ours" (Ebenezer coughed violently) "love like ours, founded on sentiments the most pure" (Mr. Allcant began to be seized with a slight cough), "does not depend solely on worldly possessions for lasting happiness. I have given you my hand, my heart, my person" (here she made the most awful grimace, no doubt imagining that she appeared interesting). "I possessed a small independence" (a cloud had settled on Mr. Allcant's face during the preceding portion of this harangue; at the word independence it vanished); "but" (clouds gathering and a storm brewing), " my dear, living in hapless maidenhood, and having no companion to sympathise with or to appreciate my sensitive nature, I was led into expenses. I own myself wrong, but what is done cannot be undone" (this was uttered rapidly). "My independence, with the exception of 201.-201., love-has gone to satisfy the claims of my remorseless creditors; therefore I do not, thank God, enter my husband's arms encumbered."

At this she jumped up, and was preparing to carry her words into effect, when her beloved husband seized her by the wrist, and swung her round with such force as to send her with considerable speed against the wall. Satisfied that he had rendered her insensible, his hand sought her pocket, and came out again with the 207. He then stuck on his hat and deliberately walked out of the house, nodding to the landlady as she passed him.

To return to Mrs. Allcant. She waited the livelong day, and no husband. Night came, and still he came not. The following day her landlady sent in the bill. What was to be done? she was penniless. Her rich relation must, as a last resource, be applied to. She wrote, stating her unhappy case in full, and by return of post received the following pithy answer:

66

MADAM,-You have disgraced your family, and as your present difficulties have arisen through your own folly, you alone ought to be the sufferer. However, I enclose you 107., but expect no more in future from,-Yours, &c. &c."

The bill was paid, and a day after the following advertisement appeared in the Cheltenham Examiner:

"A lady, of a cheerful disposition and accomplished mind, wife of a clergyman resident abroad, wishes to give her services. Salary not so much an object as a comfortable home. References of the highest respectability. Address to A. B., Post-office, Cheltenham."

An answer came, and a few days afterwards Mrs. Montgomery (otherwise Mrs. Allcant) became a companion; and, from having domineered over others, became (as she justly deserved) domineered over herself.