It so chanced, that, from unforeseen changes in our household appointments, we required the immediate assistance of a young person, expert at her needle, and obliging in domestic details. Could we but induce Farmer Hay to spare Patty for a while? We made the proposal. Patty was eager to come; and, after some demur and consultation with his wife, the farmer granted our request. Blithe as a lark, industrious and active, we found Patty Hay an invaluable treasure. Her honesty and trustworthiness were unexceptionable, while we never had cause to doubt her adherence to, and love of, truth. Patty had been with us for some weeks, when an unexpected guest paid us a visit of some duration, bringing with her a domestic about Patty's age, named Susan Sims. Mrs Whiteside was the widow of a near relative, residing at Bideford on a small income; and, whilst her house was undergoing the necessary repairs of painting and papering, came to us, having received, as she truly said, a 'general invitation.'

Mrs Whiteside was a tiresome and frivolous personage, but, for the sake of her deceased husband, whom we had much esteemed, we were desirous of extending to his widow all the kindness in our power to bestow. Her principal trouble in life consisted in continually changing her servants. There was always something going wrong; and whether she did not know how to manage them, or whether she was unfortunate and indiscriminate in her selection, she never was out of hot water,' to use her own phrase. Now, however, she assured us that she had secured a 'real treasure.' Susan had been with her for two months, and a cleverer, better girl did not exist. So Mrs Whiteside had brought Susan Sims to our house, not wishing to lose sight of her, as Susan had no relatives in Bideford-in short, was an orphan, originally a parish apprentice. She was a smart-looking girl, with black eyes and a fresh colour, and really seemed to merit the encomiums passed upon her by Mrs Whiteside as to her cleverness. But, we did not know how it was, we did not altogether fancy her, and felt sorry and dissatisfied that she was necessarily brought into close companionship and communion with our innocent, modest Patty. Mrs Whiteside liked to see her maid gaily attired, and Susan took full advantage of this license, often smiling saucily at Patty's homely appearance; yet the two girls appeared to be excellent friends, and we were fain to hope that the good principles in which Patty had been nurtured would far outweigh any vanities which Susan might instil, while she, in her turn, might be benefited by Patty's wholesome counsel and conversation. Alas! ought we to have forgotten those words, which we repeated daily, 'lead us not into temptation.' We had cause to upbraid ourselves afterwards most painfully; but we were unsuspicious, and thought no evil.

After Mrs Whiteside's departure, we observed with surprise that Patty was often dispirited, and went about her work in dull silence; but we forebore to make any remarks, thinking Patty felt a natural regret at parting with so cheerful a companion as Susan Sims. Nearly a month had elapsed, when one day she came to us, and, with many blushes and some confusion, asked permission to return home for two days, as she wished to see her father and mother. It was a very natural request, and freely granted. Patty was to start at an early hour the following morning, before the heat of the day commenced-for it was summer time-and to return on the next day in the cool of the evening. She was used to the lonely walk over the hills; and there was, in truth, nothing whatever to fear. Though we were early risers, yet we found that Patty had set off, almost ere the sun rose. To have a nice long day, no doubt, at Hay,' we said. 'How glad they will all be to see her! What a pleasant surprise for them!'

Next evening came, but Patty returned not; something had occurred to detain her. The morning dawned, the day sped on, but still no Patty; and then we became seriously afraid there was illness at Hay, and determined to walk over in the evening, and see what was the matter. But what words may depict our consternation and dismay, when, on reaching the dear old homestead, where every

thing looked so peaceful and smiling, to learn that Patty had never been there at all-the father's anguish-the mother's wild despair. What was to be done? Farmer Hay and the elder boys instantly set off on the route she must have followed from our house to theirs : each turn and stone was known to them and her. There were one or two isolated shielings by the way; but the inmates had heard or seen nothing of Patty Hay. There was no trace to be discovered of the lost one. Almost distracted, we also searched the track in the clear moonlight, impotently hoping to discover we knew not exactly what! Where can she be? What can have befallan our poor Patty?' When a voice whispered, Susan Sims, can she have anything to do with this?' Then our duty was plain: to lay before Farmer Hay any doubts or apprehensions we might entertain, and to speak of past circumstances without reserve.

This was the third day of Patty's disappearance, and no time was to be lost. It was near midnight ere our search concluded; but early next morn we would drive over to Bideford, go direct to Mrs Whiteside's, and question Susan Sims, accompanied by Farmer Hay. We did so; but, on arriving at Mrs Whiteside's, the door was opened by a stranger; and that lady informed us, that she had turned off that 'impudent hussy,' Susan Sims, a fortnight after she left us, and did not know anything about her, or where she was to be found. The stern father was awful in his silent grief. Where should he turn-where should he go? We made inquiries over Bideford during the day, wherever there seemed to be a chance of hearing tidings of the fugitive; and we counselled Farmer Hay not to leave the town that night, but to take up his quarters at a quiet, old-fashioned hostel.

Vain were our exertions: we could gain no trace of her we sought or of Susan Sims; and, as a last resource, we determined to insert an advertisement in the county newspaper, descriptive of the missing girl All these means were resorted to ere we turned our sorrowful faces homeward. There, what a surprise awaited us! But we must now return to the erring creature who had caused all this trouble and wretchedness.

Ere the departure of Mrs Whiteside and Susan Sims from our house, the latter, it seemed, had entered into a compact of everlasting friendship' with Patty, expatiating to that simple damsel on the charms of Bideford town-the fine bridge, the town-hall, and, above all, the dazzling shops, where huge squares of plate-glass alone protected the heaps of wondrous and beautiful things. Susan said it was a shame for so pretty a girl as Patty Hay to be shut up in a grey old house, moping with the owls, forsooth! Patty listened, and the flattery was sweet, and Patty was eager to visit Bideford town. Susan suggested that nothing was easier, if she could obtain two days leave to visit Hay. Susan would manage the rest. One day in Bideford from early in the morning, and returning to Hay in the evening. It was worth the risk, and probably no inquiries would ever be made, and no one be the wiser, of how that long summer's day had been passed. Patty would be at home a night and a day, and a general answer would suffice. Alas! poor Patty; she inclined her ear to the tempter's voice, and it did indeed seem a feasible plan. A pedlar conveyed a message to Patty from Susan Sims, stating that she had left the service of that 'stupid, cross, old dame, Mrs Whiteside,' and was now at liberty, on such a day, to escort Patty, as agreed on. Patty was to set off at sunrise for Hay, presently to turn a contrary way, and when about a mile from our house, a cart with a swift horse would be waiting in the copse, ready to transport her to Bideford.

All was well arranged. The cart was standing beneath the trees, driven by a spruce young man, who turned out to be a good-for-nothing horse-jockey, and a lover of Susan Sim's. Patty was much frightened, from the great speed with which they were whirled along, for the horse was wild and restive. However, they soon arrived at Bideford, where Susan was waiting to receive them; and, after a day passed in sight-sceing and dinner

at a house of public entertainment, Patty was persuaded to remain and go to the theatre with Susan, and Mr Pole, the horse-jockey, and Miss Pole, his sister-a smart lady, who looked down with contempt on the country damsel in her primitive attire-for she was a lady's maid out of place, and had always been habituated to the first of situations.' It was arranged that Patty was to share Miss Pole's couch, who had an apartment over a respectable small grocer's shop, kept by a widow woman, on the outskirts of the town. 'Dear me, Miss Hay,' said Miss Pole, if I was you, I should not think of putting myself out of the way for any one, but stop and enjoy the play. Mr Pole will drive you back in the morning quite early, and who'll be the wiser at Hay, or elsewhere? I'll be bound nobody wiland you out, if you keep your own counsel.'

Poor Patty Hay! what with the boisterous mirth of her companions, the unwonted excitement and gaiety of the scene, and perhaps a glass of ale which she had been induced to take (she had never tasted aught but the pure element hitherto), coupled with her longing desire to stay and witness the spectacle described in such glowing cobours, her prudence evaporated; it was but equivocating at home, or, at most, telling one little fib; and surely all this pleasure was worth that.

So to the theatre went Patty with her companions, returning with Miss Pole to her apartment at the grocer's. In the morning, a severe headache oppressed Patty to such a gree, that with difficulty she kept her eyes open; and, when she attempted to stand and dress herself, the room 1 round, and violent sickness ensued.

Poor Patty was very ill; the ale had disagreed with her, and over fatigue combined. She was obliged to return to bed, and it was towards the afternoon of the next day ere she rallied, and, in a state of the utmost anxiety and restlessness to reach Hay, applied to Miss Pole. But, alas, that individual told her, in a cold tone, that Mr Pole uld not drive her back again at present, for, that as she Lad not kept her engagement of the previous morning, Mr Pole had left Bideford for some days on particular business. It was fifteen miles to Hay, and Patty knew, that, eren could she walk so far in her weak condition, it was impossible to reach Hay before midnight; then to face her father was impossible, or to return to us, and say that she bad not been home! She had spent all her money at the theatre, for her friends had not treated her, and thoughts cdesperate portent floated across Patty's bewildered brain. Miss Pole wanted to be rid of her too, and spoke harshly, saying she was tired of all this nonsense and affectation, that she expected some friends to tea, and Patty's absence would be desirable. Where was Susan Sims?-gone with Mr Pole and a friend. Patty was in despair, and with foods of tears sought the kind-looking widow woman in the shop, in a few words confiding her distress and folly, and beseeching protection and advice. As Patty was still | speaking, a tall, dark lady, with a profusion of black hair about her face, entered, and, addressing Mrs Weston, asked if she had heard of a young person likely to suit them, as they were in real distress. Mrs Weston curtseyed, and replied in the negative, when a sudden idea seemed to rike ber, and, looking towards Patty, she spoke apart with the lady. Presently she turned to the weeping girl, and said, 'This lady is in immediate want of a servant, my dear, and I don't think you can do better than go with her, until you have made peace with your friends, and dare return to them. Mrs Weston added in a low voice to Patty, They are very nice ladies-sisters, I believe-pay for everything ready. They have taken Fairdown Cottage for the summer months; it is about two miles from town. And I advise you to go with Miss Cresspigny, and to write Lone, and tell your parents all you have done without delay.'

Oh! you don't know my father,' sobbed Patty, wringing her hands. What will become of me?'

Miss Cresspigny now addressed her. This lady had a grating harsh voice, but she spoke words of sweet comfort and consolation to the disconsolate girl, assuring her that she herself would write at once to Patty's friends and re

latives. 'And,' continued Miss Cresspigny, 'you are far better with us than in Bideford, for you have fallen in with bad companions; and we will take care of you until you can be returned to your friends, and meet their forgiveness for this disgraceful e-capade.'

Patty did not know what to do. Mrs Weston could not accommodate her, Miss Pole would not, and she was houseless, homeless, without a penny in her pocket to buy food. She remembered the parable of the prodigal son; but, oh! to meet her father without preparation, without warning, was too-too dreadful. If she could but let her mother know, and pave the way for her return, then, thought the trembling Patty, 'I can crawl on my bended knees to my father's feet, and entreat him to forgive me.' She looked at the dark lady, whose voice grated on her ear so unpleasantly. Patty thought she was a very odd-looking person, masculine and slovenly, with great eyes piercing one through;' but Mrs Weston advised her to go, and she was not in a situation to pick and choose.

Puzzled, frightened, turned into the streets, as it were, Patty bad no resource or refuge; so she departed with Miss Cresspigny, who strode rapidly along, threading the green lanes, and skirting a wood, until they came to a retired cottage in the midst of a garden. No house was near; dense woods lay around, and it seemed to Patty four, instead of two miles from Bideford.

This is Fairdown,' said the lady, smiling, as she opened the gate; and, on crossing the threshold, another lady joined them, who was so like Miss Cresspigny, that Patty said there was no need to tell her they were sisters. There was no one else in the house, and they showed Patty the kitchen, and gave her refreshment, themselves assisting in closing the shutters and securing the doors for the night. Miss Cresspigny then told Patty she had better go to bed, as they were astir betimes in the morning, reminding her to wind up the kitchen clock the last thing.

So saying, they left her to herself, and adjourned to the parlour, Patty feeling herself very nervous (an unusual ailment for the farmer's blooming daughter) and eerie, in a strange place with such strange people. She was preparing to step into her clean, comfortable bed, when she recollected what Miss Cresspigny had told her about winding up the clock. In her flurry and agitation, Patty had omitted to obey this injunction, and, throwing on her shawl, she crept softly down stairs towards the kitchen, for the purpose of rectifying her forgetfulness. She had to pass the parlour; the door was ajar, and Miss Crespigny's voice, at rather a high pitch, exclaimed, I tell you, Arrabel, we must finish the job to-night, and kill her at once. I should advise smothering, and burying in the wood afterwards, when nobody, of course, ever will find it out.'

That is too horrible, Philippa, I tell you, and wont do, as I have told you before,' replied the other sister. 'Well, then, what do you suggest, Arrabel; only do let it be finished at once, for I really am tired of plotting. 'Tis a pity she is such a pretty creature; I quite feel for her.' Here the speaker laughed, and Patty's blood curdled with horror as she heard the conversation, which, from the commencement, had instinctively appalled and arrested her steps.

To fly from this den of murder was her only thought the next moment might be too late for that she was the intended victim, who could doubt? With a heart beating so violently, that she almost fancied its pulsations might be heard, Patty groped her way noiselessly to the kitchen; she had observed how the door was fastened leading into the garden, and, softly withdrawing the bolts, the terrified girl stepped forth on the greensward, beneath the pale moonlight; and, casting her eyes up to heaven, breathing an inward prayer for protection and mercy, she flew towards the gate, bounded over it, and never stopped running, until, breathless and exhausted, she sank down on the margin of a broad river-the river which flowed through Bideford town, now left some miles behind.

It was a starlight night; there was not a sound or a voice to be heard. Patty looked at the dark river, and

terrible ideas suggested themselves: she was an outcast, without home, without shelter, half clad, and ashamed to meet a human eye. Just then she distinctly heard the bleatings of a lamb: there must be a fold near; and at that sound the memories of home thronged around her heart. She wept bitterly, and threw herself on her knees, in prayer and supplication.

Patty arose a different creature, strengthened and supported. Her determination was formed; she looked towards the heavens: there was the star which always appeared above Hay Farm; she would travel onwards, guided by that blessed light, and could she but reach her home once more, 'twere more than she deserved to lay her down and die at mother's feet.

All that night Patty walked diligently onwards; and when morning broke in joyous rosy tints, the dawn appearing, she sank down to rest beneath a spreading tree, awakened when the sun was up by the cravings of hunger. At a cottage by the wayside Patty begged a draught of milk and a crust of bread, the inmates regarding her appearance with surprise. Here she found that, to cross the river, she must retrace her steps considerably, for on the other side was the route to Hay. Wearied and exhausted both in mind and body, poor Patty did not get on very quickly, particularly as she avoided beaten tracks as much as possible. 'Twas evening tide when she approached our house; she hesitated-she was almost spent. Should she appeal here, or crawl to the farm? Her stern father arose before her, and Patty shrank from the image thus conjured up. We were less dreaded; and, on our return from Bideford, the penitent cast herself at our feet, and, with piteous weeping and supplication, besought us not to turn her out. Turn her out!-poor penitent! No: we did not even think it necessary to speak a word of animadversion; her own upbraidings were more than sufficient. We listened with amazement to her singular recital, and lost no time in apprising farmer Hay and his family of Patty's safety. We also conferred with the proper authorities in Bideford town respecting the inmates of Fairdown Cottage, and their proceedings. The two tall dark ladies heard with much confusion of what direful designs they had been suspected, and they had suffered not a little anxiety on Patty's account, when they found the bird flown. The Misses Cresspigny were authoresses, composing a play; and the heroine so ruthlessly to be slaughtered, poor Patty Hay had deemed was her own pretty self!

She continued in our service many years after this escapade, but she did not speedily regain her father's confidence. It was not until time proved how profitable the bitter lesson had been to his erring daughter, that Farmer Hay suffered his countenance to relax into a smile when the Misses Cresspigny were alluded to.

:

SOLITUDE.

Reader, this manual I present thee with is the fruit of solitude at school few care to learn in it, though none instruct us better. Some parts of it are the result of serious reflection, others the flashings of lucid intervals, written for private satisfaction, and now published for a help to hunian conduct. The author blesseth God for his retirement, and kisses that gentle hand which led him into it; for though it should prove barren to the world, it can never do so to him. He has now had some time he could call his own a property he was never so much master of before; in which he has taken a view of himself and the world, and observed wherein he hath hit and missed the mark-what might have been done, what mended, and what avoided in his human conduct; together with the omissions and excesses of others, as well societies and governments as private families and persons. And he verily thinks, were he to live over his life again, he could not only, with God's grace, serve him, but his neighbour and himself, better than he hath done, and have seven years of his time to spare. And yet, perhaps, he hath not been the

reader, to lose none of the time that is yet thine. There is nothing of which we are apt to be so lavish as of time, and about which we ought to be more solicitous, since without it we can do nothing in this world. Time is what we want most, but what, alas! we use worst; and for which God will certainly most strictly reckon with us, when time shall be no more. It is of that moment to us in reference to both worlds, that I can hardly wish any man better, than that he would seriously consider what he does with his time-how and to what end he employs itand what returns he makes to God, his neighbour, and himself for it. Will he never have a ledger for this-this, the greatest wisdom and work of life? To come but once into the world, and trifle away our true enjoyment of it, and of ourselves in it, is lamentable indeed. This one reflection would yield a thinking person great instruction; and, since nothing below man can so think, man in being thoughtless must needs fall below himself; and that, to be sure, such do as are unconcerned in the use of their most precious time. This is but too evident, if we will allow ourselves to consider, that there is hardly anything we take by the right end, or improve to its just advantage. -Wm. Penn.

GOD BLESS YOU.

As we journeyed on a trifling incident occurred, which very favourably disposed us towards the peasantry of Spain. A large party of field labourers, attired in scarlet jackets and sashes, were returning to their homes after the toils of the day, and were singing in unison a lively song, in token of the happiness within their hearts. The sun was now sinking behind the hills, and the stars of evening were beginning to gem the vast canopy of heaven. A soft and rich twilight gave a sweet mellowness to the features of the surrounding landscape, infusing thoughts of romance and poetry into our minds, and making everything appear to us like the scenery of a picture or a dream. As we reached the body of peasantry, they immediately separated to each side of the road, and, as we passed between them, they saluted us with the beautiful expression, 'Vaga vel con Dios' (Go you with God). A thrill of pleasure ran through my veins as I heard this national benediction, pronounced with such deep solemnity, and issuing like a full and majestic chorus from the lips of these humble tillers of the soil.-Warren's Morocco.

THE TITLE OF ESQUIRE.

4.

5.

Real esquires are of seven sorts. 1. Esquires of the king's body, whose number is limited to four. 2. The eldest sons of knights, and their eldest sons born during their lifetime. It would seem that, in the days of ancient warfare, the knight often took his eldest son into the wars for the purpose of giving him a practical military education, employing him meanwhile as his esquire. 3. The eldest sons of the youngest sons of peers of the realm. Such as the king invests with the collar of SS, including the king of arms, heralds, &c. The dignity of esquire was conferred by Henry IV. and his successors, by the investiture of the collar and the gift of a pair of silver spurs. Gower, the poet, was such an esquire by creation. Esquires to the knights of the Bath, for life, and their eldest sons. 6. Sheriffs of counties, for life, coroners and justices of the peace, and gentlemen of the royal household, while they continue in their respective offices. Barristers-at-law, doctors of divinity, law, and medicine, mayors of towns, and some others, are said to be of scrutorial dignity, but not actual esquires. Supposing this enumeration to comprise all who are entitled to esquireship, it will be evident that thousands of parties styled esquires are not so in reality. It is a prevailing error that persons possessed of £3000 a-year in land are esquires, but an estate of £50,000 would not confer the dignity. Nothing but the one or other of the conditions above-mentioned is sufficient.-Curiosities of Heraldry.

TALENT AND GENIUS.

7.