Sir Walter Scott's heroine, without the one famous action of her life, would have been obscure and unnoticed. Obscure as she might have been-and notoriety was her dread, and not her desire-she would have bravely done her duty: patiently and perseveringly she would have gone on to the end, had Providence so willed it, in want and privation, in seasons of distress and difficulty, day by day uttering the resigned words, "Thy will be done!"

Helen Walker was the daughter of a small farmer in Dumfries; at his death the support of her mother and sister devolved upon her, which charge she cheerfully undertook at the expense of her unrepining but continuous labour, and the deprivation of almost needful necessaries. When her mother died, the entire charge of her sister devolved upon her, which no doubt much endeared her, feeling the entire responsibility of the charge, prompted by duties as well as the ties of affection. Thus attached, what must have been Helen's feelings when she learned that that sister was about to be placed upon trial for her life, and that she would be cited as the chief witness against her? The crime laid to her charge was child-murder; but of which her sister would no longer be accused, as she was informed by counsel, if she could declare that her sister had made the least preparation, or given any information that she was about to become a mother. To which Helen answered, "It is impossible for me to swear to a falsehood, whatever may be the consequence; I will give my oath according to my con

science."

And then, when the trial came on, Helen's oath, "according to her conscience," condemned her sister, who was heard to say as she left the

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bar, "O Nelly, ye have been the cause of my death;" but Helen could again answer to her conscience, "Ye ken I but speak the truth." But if she had been the "cause of her sister's death," she could also make such exertions as might end in her restoration to life. Fortunately, according to the then existing law, six weeks must elapse before the sentence could be carried into effect; during that six weeks what might not be done? She lost no time in useless repinings, which, considering the fearful position in which her sister then stood, she might very reasonably have been excused for doing. On the day of the dread trial, when her heart must have been agonised to its depths, she set about the work upon which she had resolved. Her first care was to obtain a petition which stated the circumstances of her sister's conviction; her next step was to borrow a little money to purchase food; and then, that same night, to start out alone, barefooted and but thinly clad, for London, where in due time she arrived, after having performed the entire distance from Dumfries on foot! When in London, she made her way to the residence of John, Duke of Argyle. She had no introduction or recommendation; simply clad in her coarse plaid, by no means the better for the journey, with the petition in her hand, she succeeded in being introduced to his presence. Helen afterwards asserted that the moment was a most critical one; if it had passed, her sister's life Iwould have been lost. The Duke must have been much interested in the story of the Scotch girl; and from the interest which he immediately took in the matter, he must also have believed in the statement of the innocence of the petitioner's sister. We have no means of

ascertaining whether the interesting account which Sir Walter Scott has left of his heroine, Jeanie Deans-perhaps the most interesting that ever proceeded from his magic pen-owes more to his imagination than to the literal facts; . be this as it may, whether Helen Walker was introduced to the Queen or otherwise, this is certain-she obtained the pardon of her sister, with which she joyously returned again to Dumfries, as she had left it, on foot, but in sufficient time to save her sister's life. Isabella, thus rescued, lived for the greater part of a century near Whitehaven, having married Waugh, the man who had been the cause of her great trouble. She ever entertained for Helen the most profound love and esteem, sending her an annual present of a cheese, and cherishing her name as that of an heroine. Upon one occasion she was in the company of a gentleman in a small inn in the North, who was a stranger to the neighbourhood, but to whom, come from where he might, she deemed it sufficient introduction to say-"Sir, I am Nelly Walker's sister."

Helen's subsequent career was not a very easy or joyous one, but it was endured bravely and with patience. Mrs. Goldie says that one day going to her door to purchase some chickens from a person offering them, "It was a little, rather stout-looking woman, who seemed to be between seventy and eighty years of age; she was almost covered with a tartan plaid, and her cap had over it a black silk hood tied under the chin, a piece of dress still much in use among elderly women of that rank in Scotland; her eyes were dark, and remarkably lively and intelligent. I entered into conversation with her, and began by asking how she maintained