6 herself, &c. She said that in winter she footed stockings; that is, knit feet to country people's stockings, which bears about the same relation to stocking-knitting that cobbling does to shoemaking, and is, of course, both less profitable and less dignified; she likewise taught a few children to read, and in summer she 'whiles reared a wheen chickens.' I said I could venture to guess from her face she had never married. She laughed heartily at this, and said, ' I maun hae the queerest face that ever was seen, that ye could guess that. Now do tell me, madam, how ye cam to think sae?' I told her it was from her cheerful, disengaged countenance. She said, 'Mem, have ye na far mair reason to be happy than me, wi' a gude husband, and a fine family o' bairns, and plenty o' everything? For me, I am the puirest o' a' puir bodies, and can hardly contrive to keep myself alive in a' the wee bits o' ways I hae tell't ye!" On Mrs. Goldie, who was much delighted with the poor woman, asking her name, her countenance suddenly clouded, and she said gravely, rather colouring, "My name is Helen Walker; but your husband kens weel about me." Learning in the evening the events which we have narrated, Mrs. Goldie was determined to learn more of Helen Walker; but owing to her leaving that part of the country the next day, she could not prosecute her enquiries until the returning spring. Then, on proceeding to Helen's cottage, to her extreme regret she learned that this heroine in humble life had died a short time previously. On enquiring if Helen ever spoke of her past history; "Na, Helen was a wily body, and whene'er any o' the neebours asked anything about it, she aye turned the conversation." One old woman, a distant relation of Helen's, said she had worked in the harvest with her, but that she never ventured to ask her about her sister's trial, or her own journey to London. Helen was a lofty body, and used a high style of language. She is remembered also to have been a constant and devout reader of the Bible. A small table, with a large open Bible, invariably occupied one corner of her room: as she went about her work she would steal a glance at the open page, reading a verse or chapter in the odd moments which could be spared from her duties. When thunder was heard, she was accustomed to take her work and table, with her Bible, to the front of the cottage: the Almighty, she said, could smite in the city as well as in the field. After thus patiently and valorously living, she died in 1791, at which time she was upwards of eighty years of age. Sir Walter Scott provided "Jeanie Deans," as a reward for her previous trials, all needed earthly joys and comforts; but, as we have seen, the real "Jeanie Deans" had few material pleasures. But what of that?-are we therefore to think that God leaves Himself without witness-the witness of His approval of the right and the true? Is the witness of the peace and quiet which shone out upon Helen Walker's countenance, which was even noticed by a stranger, to be accounted as nothing? She had the joy of which queens might envy her, the peace which passeth understanding, the communion of angels, and the consolations of the Holy Spirit. Secure that, and a cottage becomes a palace, lit up with joys which come from heaven. Helen was interred in the churchyard of her native parish of Irongray, in a romantic ceme 6 tery, on the banks of the Cairn. The inscription on the tombstone, erected by Sir Walter Scott, is as follows: "This stone was erected by the Author of Waverley' to the memory of Helen Walker, who died in the year of God MDCCXCI. This humble individual practised in real life the virtues with which fiction has invested the imaginary character of Jeanie Deans. Refusing the slightest departure from veracity, even to save the life of her sister, she nevertheless showed her kindness and fortitude in rescuing her from the severity of the law, at the expense of personal exertions which the time rendered as difficult as the motive was laudable. Respect the grave of poverty, when combined with the love of truth and dear affection!" "Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile Cobbett's Wife. "HE that would thrive, must ask his wife," is a saying which has more truth in it than is generally supposed. It is certain that a man's progress is materially accelerated or retarded by his wife. She controls his expenditure, gives him habits of care and thriftiness, stimulates and encourages exertion; or, on the contrary, is lavish in her expenditure, so that her husband becomes reckless, and, desponding of success, loses heart and foregoes exertion. Many names appear in the bankruptcy court, from the fact that their wives have not been prudent in their domestic expenditure, and have omitted to encourage their husbands to industry. However stubborn and self-willed a man may be, he is not and cannot be insensible to the gentle influence of a true woman. If that influence is used rightly, at the right time, and in the right spirit, tempers will be toned, habits of industry formed, and habits of idleness discarded. Much more powerfully will this influence affect the man of strong purpose and rightly-resolved will; however determined he may be, yet to have the encouragement, and in his plans and purposes a fellow-worker, partial failures and petty annoyances will only strengthen and stimulate to fresh exertions and to new conquests. "Oh! what were man in dark misfortune's hour Of every blast of Fortune. She can bring When through the storm it bids the soul rejoice! Such a strong, sweet, affectionate influence was Cobbett's wife. His introduction to her, and his life with her, is sufficiently notable to demand for her a prominent place in the biographies of good wives. When first seen by Cobbett, she was at New Brunswick, in North America, where he was then serving as a soldier; she being then only thirteen years old, and he not twenty-one. She was the daughter of a sergeant-major of a regiment of artillery, and Cobbett was the sergeant-major of a regiment of foot, both stationed in forts near the city of St. John. After being in her company about an hour, he decided in his own mind that she was the girl to make a good wife. He was sure she was beautiful, or at least he thought so; and he was sure, also, that she possessed that sobriety of conduct which, in his excellent discrimination and in the exercise of his good sense, he knew to be the essentials of a good wife. Beauty without prudence would have had for him few charms; he was certainly not the man to be caught with the show and glitter of dress or a pretty face. How would these compensate for the requirements of the married life? A few mornings after the hour which had been passed in the company of this young girl, Cobbett, when he had spent his usual time at M |