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was only a little cross now and then, and so good all the rest of the time that it made up for it and a good deal more, and such like maidenly topics of consolation; and Seymour was consoled; though evening brought intelligence of the complete defeat of Mr. Rice, and Mr. Hay was more pettish than ever. Mr. Rice had found listeners and cheerers during the lucid exposition of his sentiments, (which we were empowered to give through the kindness of an able reporter,) but when it came to the matter of actually putting into office a person of such accommodating views, the sober farmers had quietly cast their influence into the other scale, and elected a candidate who never made a stump speech in his life.

The very next morning, when Mr. Hay arose from the breakfast table and laid his hand on the great Bible as a signal for the commencement of family worship, that hand dropped powerless at his side, and he sank helpless, though not insensible, upon the floor. He tried to speak, wishing to reassure the terrified family, but no sound emanated from those revered lips, and in a few moments more he sank back with closed eyes and the pallor of death upon his countenance.

It was evidently an apoplectic seizure, and there was no physician within four miles. The agonizing distress of all may be conceived by those who have witnessed such scenes under such circumstances, but of these the dweller in the close

packed city can have but little idea. What then was the relief of Mrs. Hay, when Seymour asked to be allowed to bleed Mr. Hay, saying that he had learned the art with an especial view to such emergencies. He was hailed as a minister of mercy, and when he performed the office with ease, and when returning animation was the result, not a member of the family but could have knelt at his feet to bless him for the kind forethought which had prompted him to acquire so inestimable a knowledge.

When Mr. Hay was in some measure restored, it was found that his right hand was almost useless, and that he was otherwise much disabled by this sudden attack. Seymour attended him constantly, and was made to hear, oftener than he wished, the regrets of his kind old friend at thought of that day's pettishness.

"You were right, my boy, and I was wrong, but you must lay it all to the apoplexy. And here, you see, I am justly punished by being obliged to call upon you for aid all day long. But we are poor helpless creatures, and we who live in the wilderness, above all, must learn to bear with each other's infirmities, since no one knows whose turn may come next, and money will not buy what we need.”

This is a truth which we are daily made to feel; mutual kindness is often our sole dependence, and the character of a good neighbor is the one most coveted.

Mr. Thurston was often at the bedside of the invalid, and when he saw him recovering, he at last asked Seymour if he had come to a decision in his favor. "Here are our friends round us," said Mr. Thurston, "here is thine own father

-

now tell

me, may I hope that thy mind is to go with us and share our lot? Depend on me for doing at least all I promise."

Seymour cast his eyes round the assembly, and every look was turned on him. He knew his father now felt sufficient confidence in him to be willing he should decide for himself, but he looked at Mr. Hay, helpless and dependent, and thought of his growing infirmities, and emotion choked his utterance.

"Thou canst not decide?" said Mr. Thurston. "O Seymour! don't go and leave-father" -said Caroline Hay-tears trembling in her eyes, and Seymour's difficulties were solved in an instant.

"I believe I may be more useful here," said he to Mr. Thurston, "and if more useful more happy; so I can only return heartfelt thanks for your generous offer."

"Thou art right, undoubtedly," said the Friend, "but I wish my path could have been thine."

*

Among the loads of gifts and keepsakes sent back by Mr. and Mrs. Thurston after they once

more reached their home, was a valuable case of books for Seymour, and one of more lady-like reading for Caroline, and with the latter came a dress so delicately fancied that it would have done very well to "stand up in meeting" with, for one of the plainest of the drab sisterhood. "I shall like to imagine thee dressed in it, dear Caroline," wrote Mrs. Thurston, "and I know it will suit friend Seymour's taste right well."

He did not find fault with it certainly, for in some few months after that time it was worn as a wedding-dress, and to Seymour at least Caroline had never looked so beautiful.

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A wedded life begun by an act of virtuous sacrifice can scarcely fail to be a happy one. complacency of temper which sheds light over the darkest hour is never more surely nourished than by the habitual pleasure of doing good and conferring happiness. Seymour is Mr. Hay's right hand, and his influence and that of his fair and gracious Caroline is a daily blessing to the younger members of both families. I feel assured that we shall be able to point to them half a dozen years hence as a proof that cultivation and refinement are any thing but lost in the country.

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CHAPTER XXXVIII.

But fayrest she when so she doth display
The gate with pearles and rubyes richly dight,
Through which her words so wise do make their way,
To beare the message of her gentle spright.

SPENSER.

I HOPE the reader has not forgotten Mr. Sibthorpe. If he has, it must be because we have not succeeded in introducing him so meaningly as we meant to do. Our acquaintance with him and his family was one of those short-lived pleasures which so often gleam upon life's path only to disappear and leave it darker than before.

I shall give some account of their American experience, because their short story may be considered as a sketch of a class which is constantly becoming more numerous among us. I think them worth describing, because they were entirely free from that silly arrogance of which some of their countrymen who find it convenient to reside in the United States are justly accused.

Mr. Sibthorpe's person and manner, dress and ideas were all so thoroughly English, that the dullest of my countrymen could not bid him good evening as he passed him on the road in the twilight without saying to himself, "There goes a John

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