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"But they might suspect something." observation of character – he could make

“How nervous you are! They know bis influence felt at home, and much of that Mrs. Collingwood is your mother. his talk was seasoned with a peculiar Father told them. They know nothing humor. . The friends of the family con

sidered him to be a youth of great proni“Were you present when he told ise; so he was in a certain sense, and a them?”

thorough good fellow; but though he “Yes, and they all behaved like country worked fairly well at school, and may bumpkins as they are. They held up al be said to have done his best, he their hands, and some of them said, never brought home one prize during his • Lawk, you don't say so, sir.'”

whole career excepting for good conduct, “And none of them said anything about while Lancy scarcely ever came home her having lost anything?"

without one or two. “I particularly remember that not one And Mr. Johnstone, having looked over said a word about it."

their papers, always expressed himself to "Well, then, I think that was rather the full as inuch pleased with Don John odd!"

as with Lancy, sometimes more so. Nei. “ No, there was nothing odd in the ther boy was surprised, This was only manner of any of them. If they had justice, and they forth with subsided into known, they must have betrayed the the places that pature had intended for knowledge.

them. In the schoolroom Don John “ I consider that the poor are far better ruled just as naturally as he took the head actors than we are. They knew father of the table; he headed the expeditions ; must hope they had found out nothing (1 if there was any blame, it all fell on him. always hate myself when I think of the If any treat was to be obtained he went shame he felt about it). They like both and asked for it. If any one of the party father and mother; they may have known, in childhood had committed an accidental and yet have spared them.”

piece of mischief of a flagrant nature, Nobody knows anything,” repeated such as letting a pony down and breaking Don John, yet more decidedly; "you're its knees, or making a great smash of saved, dear old fellow, this once. Only greenhouse glass, Don John, whoever had hold your head up, or you'll excite sur- been the delinquent, was always deputed prise, and make people think there is to go and make confession, and he gensomething wrong.”

erally began thus: "Father, I'm sorry to say we've done so and so."

Lancy was almost as much loved as LANCY was still glad to be at home. Don John, but he was neither feared nor He admired his two sisters; he thought looked up to; he did as he liked, and was his mother more beautiful than ever, and great in criticism, but not in command. yet the pleasure of those holidays was Lancy spent many an hour in thought made dim by bis growing certainty that during those holidays. He perceived “the lodger's” loss and his disappear that circumstances gave him a certain ance were in some way connected together power. There was a great deal of cunin the minds of bis humble friends. ning in his nature, he felt a little ashamed

Don John was of an open, joyous na. of Mrs. Collingwood because, as he perture. He was devoted and most dutiful ceived, “she was not a lady.” He had to his father and mother; his abilities always been told that in the course of were not by any means above the aver- time he should be articled to the father age, but he was blest with a strong desire who had adopted him; but he had hoped to do his best. He was to leave school for several years at Cambridge, where he and be articled to his father; there was should do much as he liked. Still he no talk of his going to the university: wished to be under Mr. Johnstone's He was delighted at this, but he well charge rather than under Mrs. Colling. knew that it arose from a change in his wood's. Such love as he had in his na. father's circumstances, not from any de- ture he bestowed on the Johnstones, ire to please him that he was to escape specially on Mrs. Johnstone and Don from the hated Latin and Greek, and take John. to more congenial studies.

Don John But his first visit to the houses" accepted all his father's decisions as if changed everything. He could not bear they had been the decrees of fate; he was to think of being so near to those people, no whit more thoughtful than most youths feeling sure as he did that they were aware of his age, but he had somewhat unusual | of his delinquency.


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Another inevitable visit soon took “ You must either be articled to me or place, and set the matter at rest in his you must go to Cambridge, you cannot opinion. He was sure they knew, just as afford to waste a whole year on idle pleassure as that his sisters did not.

ure. It is my duty to see that you are And the servants ? Had they, too, put in the way to earn a comfortable livbeen made partakers of Mrs. Clarboy's ing.” and Mrs. Salisbury's suspicions? He * But I shall have four hundred a year,” longed to live “at home " again, but his pleaded Lancy rather dejectedly. fault had risen up and faced him when he “ How do you know that? what makes hoped it was dead and buried. Why, you think so ?” rather than walk home through that field Oh, father, Mrs. Collingwood always three or four times every week, he says that of course what she has will all thought he could almost find it in his come to me.” heart to run away again!

“She is young, she may marry again.” But there would be no need for that; “She says she never will." he would write to Mrs. Collingwood, and “Well, grant that. Do you think I make use of her to get his own way. married, and that I bring up my family, on

So he did; he never called her inother, four hundred a year? and he was not base enough to use more

No, father.'' expressions of affection than just enough " Or on treble that sum ? as he thought to serve his end.

"Perhaps I shall have something more.” This was his letter:

“Of course you will. We need not go “ MY DEAR MAMMA,

into that question. There! forget this “When you wrote to me about going on under my own eyes, and living here, at

letter, it will not do I wish to have you the Continent to travel with you for a

home.” whole year, I did not consent to ask father's leave, for in the first place I knew

“But the people in the houses know

it." from Don John that he would not give it,

“ Know what? exclaimed Donald for he meant to article me to himself; and in the next, of course I like better to be Johnstone, forgetting for the moment with my own family -- the Johnstones, I

what Lancy meant. -than with you.

“ Father, must I tell ean of course,


you “ But you are very kind, and I am not tion that his poor neighbors knew what

No reply was made to this, the suggesso happy here as I expected — because I am quite sure those people in the houses Lancy had done was às gall and worm

wood to Donald Johnstone. know about it. You understand what I And so, mamma, if you like, I'll

Mayn't I wait a year, and then perhaps go the tour with you. I know Shall you'll go back to Harley Street, and I

could be articled to you, and not be in be disagreeable and cross to you sometimes when I think that I'm away from

their neighborhood ?” them, but that I can't help, and I can Street.' I am not nearly so well off, my

“No; I shall never go back to Harley hardly bear to write this letter, but I

boy, as I was in your childhood.” must. “I think the best thing will be for

“And yet you say that I shall have you

more than four hundred a year." to write to father (not telling that I wrote this), and ask him if I may travel with

There was a long pause. Then Lancy

said, you — you have said several times that if

Father, will you tell me one thing ? he wished one thing and I wished the

And before any answer could be made, he same, you had no chance; but I think

went on: if you wish one thing and I wish the same, he did he save your life?”

“My father, Lancelot Aird, did he will have no chance; but mind, mamma, if he is very angry and will not con- if he had been taken at a disadvantage by

No,” said Mr. Johnstone. He felt as sent, I am off the bargain.

this sudden question, but he little supI am, yours affectionately,


posed that Lancy had long meditated askIn a few days a letter was written to Then he must have done you some Mr. Johnstone by Mrs. Collingwood, just great --- some very great kindness, surely, such a letter as Lancy had suggested, and father.” when the adopted son was told that the “No," said Mr. Johnstone, “he did plan was out of the question he seemed not.” much disappointed.

"When you last saw him, did you VOL. XXXIII, 1708



ing it.




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promise him that you would bring me you should be so fond of me. Why, when

I was a little fellow I used always to think Had the secret been kept so long to be you were even more fond of me than of drawn forth by such a simple question as Donald.” that; such a natural question, one that it “Did you, my dear boy? I am exceedseemed a son might surely have a right ingly attached to you, Lancy; and when to ask? Donald Johnstone scarcely knew, you went wrong, and I was told of that but he looked at Lancy; he was impelled former delinquency, I lost my spirits. I to answer, and could not help it.

became ill." “I never made Lancelot Aird any prom- " But I'm cured,” pleaded Lancy, with ise of any sort."

“He was not brought up with you?” “Yes, I thank God for that hope. And said Lancy in a faintly questioning tone. now you perceive that by this conversa"No."

tion you have learned certain things; you “When did you first meet with him, took me at a disadvantage, and I spoke. then, father?”

You had meditated for some time asking “I never met with him at all.”

these questions?” Lancy, on hearing this, hung his head. “Yes, father,” said Lancy. It was not for his father's sake, then, that “I advise you, as loving you, which I he had been brought up.

have proved, and as deserving well of “ You have made a mistake, you see,” you said Donald Johnstone, in a low voice. “Oh, yes, father.” “You have got an answer to a question "I advise you not to ask any more, which sooner or later you almost must but rather to court ignorance. Let things have asked, and it is a shock to you. I be, my boy. Even Donald is not more There is another that you now desire to welcome to everything I can do for him ask, but it pleases me to observe that than you are. Let that satisfy you, you cannot do it. I will ask it and an- Lancy.” swer it for you. It is, I think, “When “ I will let things be,” said Lancy, in a did you first meet with Lancelot Aird's low voice. “Father, if I never thanked wife?'

you and mother for all this all these Lancy, who had colored deeply, did not years, it must have been because till Mrs. move or lift up his face.

Collingwood appeared it seemed so natu“I first met with her at a time of deep ral I should have it, that I never thought distress, when my son was about ten days about it - any more than the others old, and there was every reason to fear did.” that I should lose his mother. I went "Nothing else that you could possionce into her darkened room to look at bly have said — nothing ! would have her, and as my eyes grew accustomed to pleased me as much as tbis does!” exthe gloom, I saw seated at the foot of her claimed Mr. Johnstone. bed a young woman in a widow's dress Lancy was surprised. He saw how who had my poor little infant son in her true his father's words were, that he had

She rose and curtseyed when she given him grcat pleasure. He could not saw me, and I perceived at once that she but look inquiringly at him, and therewas the wet-nurse of whom I had been upon, with an effort, Donald Johnstone told, and who had been engaged. She recalled his usual expression ; and when was nursing Donald. The first time, then, Lancy went on, “But I want to thank you that I saw her, was when her child was now, and to say that I am grateful,” he about two months old."

answered, “That is enough, my dearest Lancy, for the moment, was overcome boy. Now go, I am about to write to with bashfulness, but when Mr. Johrstone Mrs. Collingwood. I am sorry she ever said with a sigh, “I am not displeased proposed to you to take this tour without with you, my boy,” he put his two hands first consulting me, and I must tell her it on the adopted father's hand as it was would not suit my views respecting you." lying near there on the table, and leaned So Lancy left Mr. Johnstone, and even bis face on it and kissed it. Then he in the going, though his heart was warmed said with a better, sweeter expression towards him, and he respected him more than had dawned on his face for a long than for some time past, yet a certain time,

ease of mind with which he had of late “I am glad you are such a good man, accepted his benefits was now gone. He father, but -- but that only makes it more wondered, as he had not been adopted for wonderful that I should be here, and that | Lancelot Aird's sake, for whose sake it

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could be. His opinion had been highly “Oh, a promise goes for very little, my disrespectful also towards Mrs. Colling star, in such a case as this. There is wood — perhaps hardly more so than she nothing that we ought not to do for Lancy, deserved; but the least suspicion of any even to the point of telling him ourselves, thing like the truth, and that he had been if he was in temptation, or seemed likely adopted for his own sake, never entered to fall again, and to know of such a poshis head.

sible part in us might help to keep him So Donald Johnstone wrote to Mrs. upright for our sake – only Collingwood, and told her that he did not “Only,” she went on, when he paused, consider a lengthened period of idleness “only that, for the chance of elevating and pleasure at all suitable for Lancy at him, we should be sacrificing Donald. his early age; that he did not approve of We should break Donald's heart." mere feminine supervision for a high- “A boy's heart is not so easily broken," spirited youth; and that he trusted to her he replied. known affection for him not to damage “ But he is our good boy

a very lovhis prospects by making the restraints of ing son,” she answered almost reproach. professional life irksome to him. The fully, “who has never made us ashamed first step was now to be taken towards of him. Shall we take everything away fitting him for his profession. When from him, and fill him with doubt and disMrs. Collingwood got this letter she was tress in order to give almost nothing to excessively disappointed ; and then on the other ?" reading it a second time, she was ex- “ Not if we can help it, my dear,” and ceedingly wrath. She felt the galling at that moment Lancy came into the nature of this yoke under which she had room. " I've got a letter from my mamput her neck. Lancy had made her so ma,” he said, he would not call her mother. sure she should get her own way, that she “She says you do not like me to take a was resolved to do battle for it; and she long tour with her, dear father and mothwrote, urging her claim to his company, er, but will I ask if I may go for one and begging that he might not be forced month ? " The letter was duly read; against his

will to be frequently among one month or six weeks was the phrase people who knew of "the childish faults used, and the letter was both urgent and which he had been so long and so severely humble. punished for.” “ And besides, sir,” she “You wish to go?” continued, “ you are quite wrong


you “Yes, father, if you don't mind.” think my dear boy has no natural feelings Then observing that the tender woman towards me, his mother. He knows his whom he called mother was moved, and duty to you, and he strives to do it; but that her eyes, more moist and bright than he takes it hard that he is never to be usual, seemed to dwell on his face attenwith me, and you may depend that I do.” tively, Lancy blushed and said, “ I think Then she went on : “ And I think it is I ought to pity her, for, as she often says, but right, sir, that you should ask Mrs. I am her only child." Johnstone whether she thinks I ought to Mr. Johnstone looked at him deliberbe always kept out of seeing my dear boy. ately, and without any tenderness of She knows what a mother's feelings are; aspect; he seemed to take a moment's and, though she is always so high with time to consider bis words, then he said, me, she will tell you that no mother could“ If you were my only child, I should put up with what I am putting up with hardly love you more; certainly I could much longer."

not be one whit more anxious for your Of course Mrs. Johnstone saw this let- welfare. Therefore, knowing her feelings, ter. She sighed as she folded it up. and considering that her present request

Donald, I am afraid if she will have him, is reasonable (her wish to take you away she must have him. When we met, you for a year was not), I think if your mother carried things with a high hand, and I agrees with me

Here he paused, hoped she did not see her own power, and it pained them both a little, when, Now, on reflection, I believe she does.” after waiting just one short instant for

“Yes,” he answered, “ she is sure, you her rejoinder, he said rather urgently, are sure, and I am almost sure, Lancy is “Oh, mother, you always wish me to hers. Let her take him for a while, and have treats — mother, you'll let ine go ?” I think she will be appeased; but with. “Yes," she said, without looking at stand her, and she will tell him all.” him.

“ You might exact a promise from her He scarcely observed her emotion, ceras the price of your consent.”

tainly never divined that it was on his

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From The London Times,

account, but he gave her the customary | born on the 4th of December, 1795. He kiss they always bestowed when thanking was the eldest son of a family of eight her for any favor, and he took out of the children; his brothers were all men of room with him a vivid recollection of what character and ability; one of them, Dr. Donald Johnstone had said. He felt a John Carlyle, was destined to make a little daunted by it. He knew it would be name in literature as the translator of a restraint upon him. But it was no re. Dante. Mr. Carlyle's father, James Carstraint as regarded that only point at lyle, was the son of Thomas Carlyle, tenwhich just then he was in danger. ant of Brown-Knowes, a small farm in

Annandale, and of Margaret Aitken. At the time of his eldest son's birth James Carlyle was a stone-mason, and resided in Ecclefechan ; but he became afterwards tenant of Scotsberg, a farm of two or

three hundred acres, which is now occuTHOMAS CARLYLE died at half past pied by Mr. Carlyle's youngest and only eight on Saturday morning, February 5th, surviving brother. James Carlyle was a at his house in Cheyne Row, Chelsea. He man of rectitude, worth, and intelligence, had been for some years in feeble health, and in many ways remarkable. His son and more than once in 1879 and 1880 his once said, "I never heard tell of any recovery seemed doubtful. Of late even clever man that came of entirely stupid his friends saw little of him. He could people,” and his own lineage might well not bear the strain of prolonged or excit- have suggested this saying. Carlyle never ing conversation, and growing weakness, spoke of his father and mother except approaching, as he himself said, almost with veneration and affection. Of the constant pain, had compelled him to give former especially he liked to talk, and he up very much his old habit of taking long once made the remark that he thought walks every day. But since early man- his father, all things considered, the best hood be bad been frequently subject to man whom he had ever known. There ailments ; dyspepsia and kindred weak- were points of strong likeness between nesses had been his scourge since his them. The father was a man of energy college days; he had rallied more than and strong will; and he had in no small once from severe attacks of illness; and measure the picturesque and vivid powit was not supposed until quite recently ers of speech of the son, and liked to use that his end was near. The announce- out-of-the-way, old-fashioned, sharp, and ment of his death will bring home to pungent words. His pithy sayings, occaevery educated Englishman its signifi. sionally prickly and sharp, ran through

A chasm opens between the pres the country-side. His favorite books ent and the past of our literature, a whole were the Bible and an old Puritan divine. world of associations disappears. No He was, said his son on one occasion to recent man of letters has held in England a friend, a far cleverer man than I am, a place comparable to that which for at or ever will be.” An elder in the kirk, least a quarter of a century has been his and a man of established character for without dispute, and authors of all kinds probity, he was one who, to use again his and schools will feel that they have lost son's description of him, "like Enoch of their venerable doyen. A great man of old, walked with God.” All extant testi. letters, quite as heroic as any of those mony goes to show that Mr. Carlyle's whom he depicted, has passed away amid father and mother were of the finest type universal regret. The close has come of of Scotch country folk — simple, upright, a well-ordered, full, stately, and complete and with family traditions of honest worth. life.

Carlyle learned to read and write in the About eight months before Robert parish school of Hoddam, where he reBurns died, and within but a few miles of mained until his ninth year. The parish Dumfries, the scene of his death, was minister, his father's friend, taught him born the most penetrating and sympa- the elements of Latin. From the parish thetic interpreter of his genius. Car- school he passed to the burgh school of lyle's birthplace was Ecclefechan, an Annan, six miles distant, where he saw insignificant Dumfriesshire village, in the Edward Irving, "his first friend," as he parish of Hoddam, known by name, at once called him, who was some years his least, to readers of Burns, and memora- senior. Lads still go very young to Scotch ble for an alehouse which was loved only universities; sixty years ago they went too well by the poet. There Carlyle was still younger, and were wont to quit them


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