ME DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TOWANDA:
Thursday Morning, October 27, 1869.
[From Blackwood'* Magazine.]
COUSIN JOHN'S PROPERTY.
"On the 11th nit., at Point de Galle, Cey
lon, on the voyage home, John Simpson, Esq.,
Her Majesty's Consul at Tranquebar."
" Bless my life, Sally," said Mr. Simpson,
almost choking himself with his muffin, "here's
cousin John dead I"
Mr. Simpson bad the Times for ail honr ev
ery morning (at six pence per week), and that
hour being his breakfast allowance also, he read
tuid ate against time, taking a bite of muffin,
a sip of tea, aud a glance at the paper alter
nately ; aud as he was very short s ghted, and
always in a hurry, there seemed imraineut risk
sometimes of his putting the paper iuto his
mouth instead of his muffin.
" You don't mean to say so, Simpson," said
the lady on the other side of the lit tie fire
place. "Cousin John dead ! Why, he was
to be in town next month—it's impossible !
Where do it say so ?"
Aud she made au attempt to reach across
for the paper ; but it was a long stretch, and
Mrs. Simpson was stout, aud hardly made due
allowance for that fact in her instructions to
her stay maker ; so Mr. Simpson found himself
master of the position, and proceeded to read
the announcement again, with a proper sense
of importance. Miss Augusta Simpson, and
her brother, Master Samuel, who occupied the
seats at the other side of the family breakfast
table, had risen front theii places, and with
their months and eyes open, cud Master Sam
uel's knife arrested in a threatening position,
formed rather a striking tableau.
" Then that Surrey properly comes to us,
Mr. 5.," exclaimed the lady, as she left her
arm-chair, and made good her hold on one side
of the Times, o I which her husband still per
tinaciously retained possession.
"It comes to me, my dear, as next heir, by
uncle Sam's will—uo doubt of it." It Mr.
Simpson intended a little geutle self-assertion
in his speech, it was so unusual with him, that
Mrs. Simpsou was good enough not to uotice
it.
"It's worth two or three thousand a year,
Simpson, isu't it ?"
"About one thousand, or fourteen hundred
at most, my dear, us I have told you before,"
replied the husband. " It's a very nice prop
erty. Dear uie ! poor Johu ! only to think !
that be should never have come home to enjoy
it!" and the goodmatured Mr. Simpson gave
an honest sigh to the memory of his departed
cousin, and for a moment forgot his own ac
cession of fortuue.
" Well, well, life's uncertain with all of us.
I never thought you'd outlived him, Simpson ;
he was tea years youuger than you, if he were
a day. I did think it might have been our
Samuel's in days to come, supposing he died
without children, as was always likely from
what I heard of him. I ofteu did say I hoped
Sammy might be a gentleman."
Samuel wiped his lips in preparation for that
crisis. He bad been eating a second egg sur
reptitiously aud hastily. Ou!v a mother's eyes
could have detected the future geutlemau uu
der the pinafore at that momeut. "There's
the 'bus, lather," he shouted, jumping up with
the view of effecting a diversion from his own
seat of operatious ; " there's the 'bus coming
round ?"
Mr. Simpson rose mechanically, and dropped
the Times. Tne habits of tweuty years were
not to be shaken eveu by the suddeu prospe'-t
of a thousaud a year But iiis daughter, with
the spirit ot a true British unidea iu the hours
of fortuue, showed herself equal to the occa
sion.
"Who wants the 'bus?" said she, with an
indigoant shove to Samuel. "Pa aiut go.ug
by 'busses now."
Like all truly great speeches, it was short,
and to the purpose. As such, it was loug re
membered iu the family. It awoke them at
once to the duties and the pleasures of their
new positiou. That useful publie vehicle did
not take Mr. Simpson to Aldermanbury thai
morning. The couduetor looked at the well
known door in vaiu ; the civil driver even let his
horses linger a little ere he turued the corner ;
and both turned a long and la-t inquiring gaze
in the direction of Portland Terrace, No. 4.
" What's come o' the Governor this morning,
Bill? Are we arler or afore our time ?"
"Not above two minutes arter ; he've never
been aud gone by the Royal Bloe ?
' Don't think he'd be so mea i as that ; snra
mat's amiss, hoirrrer ." And with this compli
ment to Mr. Simpson's business habits, the
omnibus lumbered on without him. Great was
the surprise, and as the morning wore on, even
the anxiety, iu the little dark offices in Alder
manbury. Such a thing as Mr Simpson's ab
sence, without due cause assigned, was uu
known hitherto in that most punctual and re
spectable establishment ; and Mr. Styles, the
old clerk, who had a sincere, if not a demon
strative affection for his principal was scarcely
prevented, by a sense of what was due to the
d.trmty of both parties, from taking his pas
-age down to Notting Hill to inquire.
But iudeed, eveu had Mr S mpson made
his usual appearance at his place of business
tuat morning, it would have been too ranch to
expect from human nature that beshou'd have
devoted himself with his old attention to ledg
er and invoh'es. When he did arrive there
towards the afternoon, the youngest clerk saw
there was something " on the governor's mind.
He scarcely staid half an hour ; aud if his uu
blemished commercial repute were any longer
valuable to him, it would have been undoubt
edly better if he had not looked in at all ; for
he left the impression on the minds of the sub
ordinates, that even the small and cautious
house of Simpson k Son had not escaped in
the last great commercial whirlpool ; and the
errand-boy, who was well up in that depart
ment of newspaper literature, gave it as his
private opiuion to his mother at home, that it
a " Paul & Pates* case.
1 g Mr S : mr-'DE w;: thiskis? little of his
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
business, and still less what people thought of
him.
" I'll go to to town at once, my dear," he
had said to his wife, after their first shock of
surprise was over. " I'll go and see Grindles,
poor John's agents, and see what thev can
tell me alout it; they'll be able to give me
every information of course, and advise me as
what to do. I'll go to Griudles' at ouce ; and
I'll just look into the counting-honse aud set
Styles' mind at rest before I come back. I
can bring my letters down here to answer."—
(How far Styles' mind was set at rest has
been already recorded.)
To Messrs. Grindles' accordingly, at an un
usual expence of cab-hire, Mr. Simpson proceed
ed. If he had any floating doubts in his mind
before as to the correctness of the announce
ment in the Times, the remarkably grave and
polite manner in which the junior Mr Grindle
(whom he remembered hitherto as a rapid and
somewhat supercillious young man) received
him on his entrance, would have gone far to
remove them. " Have you heard any thing
lately of my cousin, Mr. John?" asked Mr.
Simpson, with a voice which he felt was ner
vous and and unsteady—that, however, was
becoming under the supposed circumstances.
" Sit down, I beg, my dear sir,—pray sit
down ; sorry to say we have, very sorry in
deed. Have you seeu this, my dear sir ?"
producine a copy of the Homeward Mail, and
pointing to a paragraph containing the same
brief but important words as those which had
caught the eyes of Mr. Simpson's*
" I saw it in the Times this morning, and
came to you to hear more about it. He was
was coming home, I fancy, this month ?"
" He was," said Mr. Grindle ; "he wrote
n last mail to say we might expect him by the
Formosa, which brought the mails as I under
stand, yesterday ; he had taken his passage in
her, he says in his letter. We were just going
to telegraph down to Plymouth, to know if
1 she has landed her passengers, and whether
your poor cousin is among them. I should
| fear there can be no doubt of the correctness
of this sad news—most sad, indeed, and sud
den ; but we shall have answer to-night, and
will at once let you know. You are aware, cf
course, " continued Mr. Griudle, delicately,
: " that you are your cousin's representative ?"
"I am aware of it, sir," said Mr. Simpson,
, bowing awkwardly, " I assure yon—"
" Of course, my dear sir, of course these con
siderations are premature. I trust, most sin
cerely trnst, that we may have some intelli
gence of our valued friend by the Formosa
You may depend upon our tanking the most
particular inquiries, and giving YOU the earli
{ est iuformation. Expecting hiai in town we
were this very day, aud now! Well, Mr.
Simpson, life is—
But Mr. Grindle felt himself hardly equal
to the definition, and filled up his unfinished
sentence, by lifting up his eye™ and huntis
| " But allow me to offer you—"
" Nothing in the world, thank you"—and so
they parted
It was not natnral that Mr.Simpsin should
i either feel or affect much sorrow for the death
of a cousin whom be had not seen for nearly
fifteen years. Yet sometimes, on his way home,
when he remembered the days when they had
played together as boys, the worthy trades
man's heart reproached for the feelings of pos
itive elation which he was conscious of since
the news of the morning. He had never tho't
much of the possibility of such an eveut as his
j owu accession to the little Surrey estate. Mrs
Simpson, it is true, had been fond at all times
of descanting, even before their acquaintances,
on her children's future " exjiectatious," not al
together to her husband's satisfaction ; he had
no notion, as he said, of teaching the young
folks to set themselves up above their father
and mother, which the younger daughter, Au
gusta, was rather inclined to do. And it was
not without some little misgiving that he con
templated, during his solitary ride home, some
of the possible effects of the change in their
position upon the female members of his house
hold. Still, it is very pleasant to feel one's
self independent. The Simpsons were by no
means rich ; —the son had succeeded the fath
er iu a long-established but not very lucrative
business, and bad neither the means uor the
energv to extend it He had had his anxieties
and losses, and he was fond of ease and quiet.
To drop unexpectedly into a thousand a-year
was. he coofes-ed to himself, a piece of good
, fortune almost bewildering. If he and Mrs.
Simpson sent the young folks to bed early that
night (to Miss Augusta's great dudgeon),
and sat over ths fire themselves somewhat la
: ter than usual, discussing their future pros
pects. they are not to be set dowu as more
greedy and selfish than their neighbors.
Again, at nine o'clock exactly the follow
ing moruing, did the 'bus which Mr. Simpson
usually patronized go to town without him ;
and an aspiring young bauker's clerk, who
lived close by, usurped from that time forward
the well known coruer-seat, which baa belong
| ed by a prescriptive right, wliiioglv recognized
j by other passengers, to the " highly-respecta
[ ble old city gent "' from number four. For Mr.
Simpsou himself, at that hour, was busy read-
I mg to Mrs. S., for the second time, the follow
i ing important communication from Messrs.
i Grindle:—
" DEAR SIR, —On receipt of telegraphic mes
sage yesterday evening, informing ns that no
such passenger as 'Mr. John Simpson' had ar
rived per steamer Formosa, we despatched a
clerk at once per night mail to make further
iuquiries Lie has just returned, and brings
*i rd that Mr. John Simpson had engaged his
passage by that vessel, and that some of his
luggage is no*' actually on board He bad
himself, as it appeared, left Tranqoebar for
Point de Galle some weeks previously ; and
the Ceylon papers, put on the Formosa just be
fore sailing, contained the intelligence of his
death. We shall write by this mail tooureor
respondeuts in both places, and obtain all par
ticulars. Meantime you may command our
best advice and assistance.—Faithfully yours,"
&c.
The breakfast at uumber four that morning
was little more than a nominal meal to any of
Le party except Ma iter Samuel E'thcr his
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
" REffiAßDl.nss OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
imagination was less lively, or his appetite less
liable to be affected by his feelings. Mrs.
Simpson aud Augusta were iu a state of mind
abhorent from the coarse but comfortable snb
stantials before them. Mr. Simpson played with
his kuife aud fork, but allowed his rasher to
grow cold before him untasted. After Messrs
Grindles' letter had been discussed, they had
be;o rather a silent party. The first dreams
of sudden alflneuce were too vague and luxuri
ant to shape into words. The ladies were in
a little fairy-luud of their own, in which vis
ions of smart carriages and unlimited millinery
flashed before the eyes of their fancy. The
husbaud felt, on the whole, almost as much
puzzled as pleased. He had not yet succeeded
in combiuiiig, to his own satisfaction, the pro
prietorship of Barton End—so uncle Sam's
conntry house was named—with the warehous
es in Aldermanbury. A snug place at Wands
worth, or any other favorite locality a few
miles out of town, where he might have a run
down every day to dinner, and spend his Sun
days with au old friend or two for company—
this had lonsr been an object of innocent am
bition with hitn, aud a favorable castle-in-the
air when he was in the mood for that kind of
building, which, to do him justice, was but sel
dom ; and if ever he had been inclined to tres
pass on the tenth commandment, it was as of
ten as he passed a certain smart new villa on
the Harrow Road,belonging to a retired tobac
conist of his acquaintance, where the pillars at
the eutrance-gate preseuted two enormous ci
gars, aud which bore the name of Havannnh
Cotlage. That was very much Mr. Simpson's
pattern of rual elegance and felicity. " 1
should like such a little place as Snuffsou's
very well," had been the uearest approach to
cnthuastic admiration which he had ever been
heard to utter with regard to that or any oth
er of the numerous snug retreats of British in
dustry which he and Mrs. Simpson noticed in
their summer-evening drives ; but it had been
repeated more than once, and was evidently a
pet dream of his. Mrs. Simpsou's ambition
had always been on a grander scale, and more
comprehensive iu its objects ; indeed, it had
varied from the possession of Buckingham
Palace, Life Guards iucluaed, to the oc_*upa
tiou of No. 1 in their own terrace, which had
a second drawing room aud plate-glass win
dows. Either sphere, she felt she could adorn;
meanwhile she was content to make un ex
cellent wife, in her present contracted orbit.—
An excellent wife, as Simpson often said to
himself and his city friends, iu social confiden
ces Did she not insist upon his always wear
ing worsted hose and flannel waist coats from
a given date which was assumed as the begin
ning of winter? And if the peculiar irrita
bility of Mr. Simpson's skin made this style
of clothing especially disagreeable to him,
could that be laid to her charge ? Was he
to catch cold, and risk his precious life, be
cause lie " didn't like the feel" of what was
good for him? AH Mr. Simpson's shirts were
made at home, either by her own hands or by
those of her daughters. They did not cost
much less, than was admitted ; the collars
being made after an old and approved tiattern
belonging to Mrs. Simpson's papa, treasured
up as a sort of standard of w hat a collar sho'd"
he—did, as Mr. Simpsou averred, cut him un
der the ears, and double over behiud : but
Mr. Simpson had a short neck, which was cer
tainly no tault either of Mrs. S., or the col
lars. She put the cayenne pepper, to which
Mr. S., was rather addicted, carefully out of
reach at dinner time—it was so bad for his
digestion ; she woke him up ruthlessly from
his after-dinner nap —those things grew upon
old people, and were bad for a man of his full
habit. She hid his snuff box, banished liisold
"dowu-at heel" slippers aud worked bim a smart
tight pair instead ; and, in short, tried as far
as josnilile to keep him in the way in which
he should go. Mrs. Sampson, it must be said,
was ungrateful for some of these attentions,
and evaded her well meant efforts with a per
verse ingenuity, lie continually ignored or
disputed the date of resuming the flannel and
worsted, wore the new slippers down at heel,
kept snuff in his waist coat pocket, and had
gradually acquired the faculty of sleeping, like
a fish, with his eyes open. But Simpson was
the best-terajiered man in the world ; nnd he
and his wife, iu spite of these little antagonis
tic peculiarities, might have almost been claim
ants for the flitch at Punmow. lie had a
quiet will of his own, too in more important
matters, which the lady, content with ack
nowledged sovereignty in what she considered
her own departments of government, had sense
enough seldom to try to interfere with. They
had two danghters—Mary, the ehle J t, who
had i>een to a good school, and was now on a
visit to a maiden aunt at Biixton, and who
was tacitly admitted to be rather the father's
pet —having a good deal of his quiet good
seuse, and a very sweet disposition; and Au
gusta, who had left home, and might be con
sidered to have adopted more entirely her moth
er's tastes and manners. In Master Samuel,
the only son, now about twelve, the hopes of
both parents were alike centred ; aud his go
ing to school had been delayed from time to
time—to that young gentleman's disadvan
tage, a stranger might have thought—first,
upon one pretext, aud theu another, partly be
cause of tbe expense, but iu fact chiefly be
cause - either father nor mo.her could make
up their minds to part with him. There were
momeuts, no doubt, wheD some unusual fit of
troublesomeuess caused sentence of immediate
deportation to be passed ; but it had never
beeu put into execution, and be went on pick
ing up such scraps of learning—good and evil
—as the little suburban day school offered.
" You'll give up tbe business, of course,
Simpson?" said tbe wife after a pau-'e, foliow
ing up one of her own trains of thought.
" No, Sally ; I think not," quietly replied
the husband.
M r s. Simpson had been thinking not, too,
in her own mind, and bad not much hope of
any other aDswer when she put the qutstion.
And she had very little confidence iu her uwu
powers of persuasion on this point, though she
did follow up the attack by remarking, that
she saw no reason why he should go on stav
ing a!! his htc when they ccai Jut 'saut t_e
money. Mr. Simpson " wasn't above his bus
iness," and didu't call it slaving ; aud as to
wanting the money, everybody wanted money,
as far as he saw ; be meant everything to go
on in the city just as nsnal.
" Law, pa, what ever for V' asked the euer
ergetic Augusta.
" For a good many reasons," replied her
father. And that young lady, having also an
instinctive suspicion that he meant what be
said, relapsed into silence, as the servant en
tered to clear the table ; for they had sat long
though they bad said little. Aud Mr. Simp
son went off, an hour later that usuul, to Al
dermanbury.
The wife aud daughter hardly felt inclined
to settle themselves to their work-baskets as
usual ufter breakfast, and Samuel had given
himself a whole holiday in houor of an event
which as yet he scarcely comprehended, and
had begun to tease his sister to tell him all
about it, when there came a ring at the bell,
and Augusta, looking out of the parlor win
dow which fully commanded all the approach
es, announced the early visitor to be their neigh
bor, old Mr. Burrows, of No. 0. He was a
good natured, gossiping old bachelor, who had
retired on a competency from a business of bis
own of some kiud—it appears to be hardly
etiquette in Portland Terrace to inquire iuto |
particulars ou that point—aud occupied his
leisure hours, ut present, in making himself
master, as far as possible, of the business of
other people. Not that there was a spice of
ill-nature either in his curiosity or his gossip,
but he liked, as he observed, to know what
was going on ; aud it was wonderful what
trouble he gave himself about his neighbors'
affairs—what clever plots and plans he laid
for other people, and what very little thanks
he got for it. He would have done anything
in the world to oblige bis frieuds the Simp
sons, except let them alone.
llis interference, however, was never re
sented : iu fact, he was looked upon as a
privileged friend of the family; and no one
was surprised or annoyed at his early visit.—
The derangement iu Mr. Simpson's usual
movemeuts had not escaped his busy precep
tious, of course ; for he spent a good deal ol
his time in looking out of his window, aud in
holding conversations with his housekeeper,
who kept him excellently well informed of all
the doings in the Terrace. Samuel, who was
very fond of the old gentleman (an unrequited
attachment as it appeared) danced rouud him
on his entrance with unusual glee.
" Well, my little man, good morning, good
morning," said Mr. Burrows in the passage,
soothing Master Samuel's antics as one would
a restive horse ; " we seem very lively here ;
what's going on eh ?"
" Oh ! I'apa'scousin John's dead, aud we're
all so glad !"
" Sum, come here, you shocking boy I"
screamed Augusta, always prompt in a difficul
ty, for Mrs. Simpson was aghast and speech
less at this abrupt statement of the cireum
stances ; and she rushed into the passage, aud
seized and shook the offender vigorously.
" What's that lor?" said Samuel rebcllious
ly, while Mr. Burrowstried to mediate, "Aiut
I to tell Mr. Burrows, then V
" For shame, sir,"said his mother ; "is that
the way to speak of your poor coustu's death '"
And having duly wticomed her visitor, she
proceeded to discriminate, uot very lucidly, be
tween cause and effect. A relative ot her
husband's icas dead—very suddenly : that, of
course, was very shocking. Some family prop
erty had thereby come to them ; whica, with
tueir rising family, was of course very accept
able.
It was undeniable ; Mr. Burrows said " Of
course."
" And I hope," said the kind-hearted old
gentleman, after a few little inqu.ries as to the
probable amount of their new fortuue, and
other circumstances which the iady was ahno.-t
as glad to communicate as he was to learn—
" I hoj>e ihis will smooth matters a little for
my voung friends, you kuow—tb, my det.r
Mrs. Simpson f
Mrs Snupsou looked embarrassed. It was
not because she-did not know to what young
friend- Mr. Burrows alluded, or that there was
any mystery in the matter, in spite of that
gentltuiau's attempt at a wink. But it was
tire very last subject she wished to converse
upon just at this time.
" Augusta, my love," said she, "just put on
yonr bounet—that's a dear—aud go and ask
how old Mrs. Mausou is ; we uever sent there
all day yesterday, my head was so full of other
things, aud its reaiiy quite uuueigbborlj."
Miss Augusta having beeo ea-iiy disposed
of by this means—the more easily as the sub
ject had long lost its novelty for her, and she
did not therefore think it worth her while to
make resistance—Mrs. Simpson, having gained
also a little time to think,proceeded to reply to
her visitor's last questiou ; or rather to lead
him off Irora it so as to avoid, if possible, giv
ing any reply to it at all.
Her daughter Mary—to whom Mr. Burrows
little speech alluded—had lately become pos
sessed af that delightful but dangerous play
thing—a lover. There was nothing very ro
mautic about the attachment, which might in
part account tor the fact that the course of
their love, which was very true and honest,
had hitherto run perfectly smooth, though
there seetned a good many windings in pros
pect before it could hope to reach the oceau of
matrimony. A very fine young fellow was
George Harrison ; lookiug and walking and
speaking as much like a gentleman as if he
had speut his early years at Eton and Oxfoid,
instead of passing at one from Highgate school
into his nncle's counting-house. His uncle and
Mr. Simpson were old friends ; and he was
also distantly related to Mr. Burrows, with
whom he—and consequently Mary—was an
especial favorite. Not that Mary required
any thing beyond her own sweet, thoughtful
face and winning manner to make her a favor
ite with most of her acquaintances, old and
young. There bad been no talk of marriage
at present ; both were young enough to wait,
and. as yet, fooud the waiting very pleasant.
> Friends ou both sides were propitious ; or, at
L.y rate, rbcugh perfectly cf rbe slate
or affairs, bad interposed no sort of objection;
and it seemed tacitly understood that in two
or three yean' time or so, when some opening
offered to enable George to do something for
himself, he would come forward manfully and
claim Mary for himself " for better or for
worse," without any very formidable discus
sion about settlements. Nothing had been
seen of him in Portland Terrace for the last
fortnight, which had been naturally accounted
for by the fact of Mary's being at Brixton.—
Aunt Martha was the kindest creature in the
world—none the less kind in soch cases, be
cause her own youth had been sad and disap
pointed—and if she could not fairly attribute
George Harrison's frequent visits and thought
ful little presents to her own attractions, she
was well content to play the part of wall be
tween the yonng Pyiamus aud Thisbe.
But their " Lion " too, poor souls, was al
ready roaring iu the distance, and from a very
unexpected quarter. A very gentle beast too
it might have been thought. But Uncle Sam's
property, which had brought the flutterings of
so mnch pleasure in anticipation to the rest of
the Simpson household, had a root of bitter
ness in store for poor Mary and her lover.—
And there were persons at all events who
were likely to be siucere mourners, though,
like many of her mourners, they had but selfLh
reasons, for " poor cousiu John."
When Augusta hud closed the 'door, her
mother resumed the iuterrupted conversation
" Oh ! you mean that flirtation between
George Harrison and Mary, I suppose. Well,
I haven't heard much about it lately, do you
know ?"
"Flirtation! my dear ma'am, why, arn't
they engaged to be married ?"
" They uever told me so, I assure you, Mr.
Burrows." It was true to the very letter.
"No ; nor they never told me so either.
Mrs. Simpsou but I suspect they have told
each other so over and over again. Yon don't
mean to say anything uasgoue wrong between
them after ail
Nothing whatever that I know of, Mr.
Burrows," rejoined tlie lady in her coldest and
driest tone ; " Mary's far too young to thick
about tnarryiug yet, and me and Mr. Simpson
object to long engagements."
There was something so unusually dignified
iu Mrs. Simpson's tone, that poor Mr Bur
rows, who was no match for auy woman iu a
conversation of this nature, for some moments
could only look at her with astonishment ; but
he couciuded at last that her prospective riches
had refined her philosophy, though without
improving her grammar. He was much too
honest and simple minded himself to suspect
the change which such a prospect could effect
iu two days iu her maternal feelings.
"The fact is, my dea. Mr. Burrows," con
tinued the lady, shrugging her shoulders aud
puttiug on a confidential air, " there has been,
as we all kuow, a little—a little nonsense go
ing ou betweeu them, as there always will be
amongst young people, but nothing really
on either side, I faucy."
A little nonsense ! nothing serious ! Why
Mr. Burrows himself had joked and poked
them m&uy a time at certain snug little sup
p rs which were wont to take place bcth at
No. 4 and No. 6, Mrs. Simpson her?elf being
preseut, and laughing heartily ; and there she
.-at before hitn now locking the very picture of
cco! and unembarrassed innocence, while poor
Mr. Burrows felt himself coloring with modest
shame aud indignation, It was interesting to
see the progress Mrs. Simpson was making iu
the duties of her new position. It was an
awkward interview, but she was going through
it wonderfully, as she thought herself.
" You kuow, Mr. Burrows, in this world
young people can't marry without money."
"They cau't marry in the oiher world even
with it, I suppose, ma'am ; but I thought now
the mouey was come." He was beginning to
suspect the real workings of the mother's
mind, aud was more abrupt and less polite
than usual.
" Oh, Mary mustn't look to her father for
any thing at present; there's no ready money,
and a deal to I e done on the property ; our
daughters won't be heiresses, indeed, Mr.
Burrows ; n but Mrs, Simpson could not resist
a gratified smile at the notion.
" George wasn't looking for an heiress when
he fixed upon ycur Mary, Mrs S.mpson ; he
would scorn to murry any girl for he* moi.ey ;
but he's good enough for the biggest heiress
in England, George is ; ay, and many a one
1 would be glad enough to have him, ma'am,
without a farthing, that they would ! But as
you say, ma'am, yonng folks can't marry with
out something to begin the world with ; and
all I kuow is, it 1 had had a fori'n left me,and
M iss Maiy were my daughter, I'd -peud half
of it to make her happy, ma'aui, that's what
I would !"
" Ah, my good sir, how eay it is for you
to talk who have uo children, and can't feel as
Ido 1" And the smile now took the charac
ter of triomphaat sujieriority, which could uf
ford to pity
It is a valuable and unanswerable .argument
aguiust alt bachelors. What can they know
about it ? Mr. Burrows gave in, foiled, but
indignant. It had been foretold to him in the
days of his youth, by a gypsy fortune-teller,
that he should listen to a tail, fair lady, who
should speak him fair, aud turn out a dark de
ceiver. "Beware of her !" had been the omi
nous words, and he had walked in fear and
trembliug in the presence of a 1 such enchan
tresses all the days of his life Aud now the
prophecy seemed in the way of being fulfilled,
like all prophecies, in the most unlooked-for
manner : to be sure the lady now before Lim
was not tall, but she was fair, and that was
qu.te close an interpretation a. s such fulfilments
admit of. lie wished Mrs. Simpson " a very
good morning," refused to listen to the syren
voice which she put on to soothe and stay
him, aui left her rather disconcerted with her
own success, for she bad no desire to offend
him.
" Confound br for a covetous old sinner !"
was Mr. Burrows' explosion within his own
, breast as he stamped energetically along the
terrace "So she thinks her da igh'erj may
1.-ck L' c '-e." t. v tLey've c— ce cf
VOTj. XX. —NO. 21.
money, and means to throw poor George over!
I'll give him a hint, though, of what he's got
to expect, and hang me if he shan't be before
hand with them iu crying off : 1 wou't hare
him jilted by any such rubbish V
By the time, however, that he got a mile
from his cwu door—for he was much too in
dignant to go in and sit down—and had cool
ed himself iu that labyriuth of muddy fields
and unfinished houses north of Xottiag HilJ,
beyond the knowledge even of cabs aDd police
men, called by the residents, for some mysteri
ous reason, Kensington Park, he began to
think within himself that the term " rubbish "
could not apply with any degree of fitness to
his favorite Mary Simpson, if the mother
was spoiled by a little sudden prosperity, it
wus no reason the daughter should be.—
" George wouldu't have given her up," ha
thought, " not if he'd been left a million !"
And why should the girl be less honest than
he was ? So Mr. Burrows resolved, with a
very u ise and unusual self-denial, to let things
take their own course for the present, and to
smother his knowledge of Mrs. Simpson'*
baseness as he best might, withiu his owu
breast.
Mary came home from her aunt's the next
day, and heard the news of the unexpected
change in the family fortunes with so little out
ward emotiou as to disappoint very considera
bly her sister and mother, both of whom tho'i
to have had the pleasure of overwhelming her
by the magnificence of their announcement.—
Perhaps one reason for her taking it so quiet
ly, was, that at the moment she did not con
nect it in the least with her engagement with
George Harrisou ; for engaged they had been
tor the last six mouths, as Airs. Simpson was
perfectly well aware—though certainly sbo
had received no formal notification of the fact
—and therefore thought herself quite justified
in professing ignorance to Mr. Burrows. Per
haps Mary thought of George so much, that
every thing which did not directly refer to him
seemed to her of little importance. Giris are
so foolish sometimes. She felt very glad ou
her father's account ; she remembered once,
wheu she was but a child, and some little dif
ficulty about mouey had occurred, as such
things will occur in the truding community
even to the most prudeut, that he had said to
her mother iu her hearing, "Ah, Sally, if I
had a thousand pounds !" and how much she
had wished some oue would give her a thou
sand pounds to give him, aud wondered wheth
er she could ever save so much out of her
monthly allowance of half a crown, by being
more careful in the matter of boot-laces ; aud
now he would have a thousand pounds every
year ! She wished some of it had come then;
tor she had dim and painful recollections of
her mother crying, aud her father walking
about the room instead of eatiug his supper,
aud of herself going to bed with a heavy and
puzzled heart, after a long kiss from him which
she knew by instinct had as much sorrow as
love in it. If she asked him more questions
when he came home from the city that even
ing about Barton End, and whether he had
ever been there, aud what sort of a place it
was, aud when he meant to go aud live there,
than even Mrs. Simpson or .Augusta had yet
asked, it was not because Mary was more
curious or more impatieut than the others, or
because the thought of their new wealth was
more delightful to her, or because she was as
tired as her mother and sister had suddenly
profis-ed themselves, of living " poked up in
London " (perhaps she had her private rea
sons to the contrary), but because these were
new and pkasaut sources of a common inter
est between her father and herself, which she
felt after all she could cuter into much more
heartily than his u-ual topics of eouversatiou,
which had seldom goue beyond the dry details
of the ri>e and fall of markets, or the last
commercial gossip from the city ; and poor
Mary had often confessed, rather to the an
noyance of her family, that she had not much
natural taste for shop craft, and had always
found herself much more congenially occupied
in Aunt Martha's quiet cottage at Brixton,
where there were books, aud Uowers, aud old
songs which she was never tired of singing, or
her auut of hearing. In fact, Mary, though
almost unconsciously to herself, aud certainly
not admitted to such distinction by either moth
er or sifter, was quite the lady of the family.
Mr. Simpsoi. felt it every day, though he could
not Lave put it into words ; a:id his own hon
est but uncultivated miad warmed and opeued
with a strange but not unusual attraction to
his eldt-r daughter* influence. Ilis w,fe com
plained on this very evening,not without soma
truth, that Mary had got more out of her
father in a f. w minutes tnan she and Augusts
had arr ved at iu all their cross-examination of
hiin since the new - arrived. For Mr. S.mpsou
had actu .liy, for a few weeks in his boyhood,
been a dweller in this j aradise (for such the
Surrey country house hud become iu their vu
id iniagiuii atiousand coi 11 remember ail
about it, they were sure, if he chose.
" My loves. I don't remember ranch about
it : I was only-a boy, you km w (and tliat'i a
long wl i!e ago, Sally); bit 1 remember poor
Uncle Sam w.s very k id, audit was a very
nice pia.e to me after I, udoo strtet*, as you
may suppose. I cau recollect, as well as if it
were yesterday, galloping the pony about the
park."
"There. Pa," (creamed Augusta; "you
never toll! us before that there was a park !
Oh.what a beautiful place it must le !"
•• it ahs csi I led a park, Uiy dear, but it was
ou'y a fi Id : it bad been a larger place once.
I believe, but there was not hi ug very grand
about it ia uncle Saai's diys."
" And shall I have a pouy to ride. Pa?"'
asked Samuel
" You shall go to school at all events, bi
boy,'' said L.a talLer, looking at hiui rather
thought! uliy.
Tnis was a view of his inheritance uot al
together so gratifying to Master Sa-uuel ;
though his sister, to whom he bad been rnoiu
thau usually tnublr.-onie tb*t ittOfniug. ex
pressed her emphatic opioiou, that it would
" do him a deal of good.'
■ Aud A '.a must hare a goverue&s to
__.. L ..Le !„e another