The door opened, and the old man's favourite employé crossed the threshold. 'Well, Abel,” he said, "what now-any fresh complaints to make?” This was because more than once of late the young mechanic, tardy as he was in self-defence, had been forced to appeal against certain extravagant claims on his obedience from Harry Justyne and his tool the nominal foreman. He had never yet-to the chagrin and rekindled enmity of both-appealed in vain.

"No, sir," he replied, with a smile, "we've been getting on a little better, I think, lately” (and so they had, on the surface). "It is nothing to do with the works, so far as I know. I've come to ask leave of absence for a few hours. There's a young lad come down from the gipsy camp on the common, and brought a message for me. A strange one, too; I can't understand it at all, nor what it's likely to lead to. He says that this morning some of their youngsters and a woman we know as Gipsy Sue went to cut wood for pegs and such things in the plantation just on the hilltop behind Bell Bank. The railroad, you will remember, crosses not far off, and is only hidden from here by that same plantation. Well, the boy says that just as they were making into bundles the sticks they had taken-against the law, of course-an enormous-sized bulldog, which they had heard barking for some time in Justyne's grounds, leaped the fence and made for the children. In the wildest terror they scattered towards the railway, just as the ten o'clock down train was coming. Gipsy Sue ran to save them, and between dog and train and children there was a sad accident. The dog was killed on the metals, and Gipsy Sue so severely injured by the buffer of the train that she is not expected to live the day. She saved the little ones at the cost of her own life. The boy says, however—and that is the mysterious part of the affair—that she wishes to see me at once. Why, I never spoke to the woman in my life that I know of, and I can do nothing for her in any way, sorry as I may be. There's only one thing—and—I dare not build much upon that—” He stopped for a moment, as if to weigh his meditated words, and the shrewd grey eyes opposite noted his sombre air as well as his hesitation.

“You mean the secret of your birth," said Samuel Barron, quietly. “This woman may have something to tell you about that. Is it not so?"

"Yes," Abel answered, "that is what I was thinking; but after twenty years and more of silence and uncertainty it is not to be expected that I shall ever know. I cannot be sanguine about revelations now. At least, I was not a gipsy's child; that's clear from fifty things, amongst them the mere fact of my desertion. No gipsy would have left her child to die or fall into the hands of strangers, as they tell me I was left.”

"Yet you will

go?"

"Of course, sir. Such a message would be imperative in any case; and after all there's the chance, the bare chance."

"Has the boy gone?"

"No, sir, he is waiting for me outside the gates. I came straight to you because, by your leave, I'd rather no one else should know. My work would be alone in the testing-room from now to lock-up."

"Just so; you are quite right, Abel," the manufacturer replied. "You can go out by my private door if you like, and so avoid every one.”

"Thank you, Mr. Barron," said Abel, gratefully, "then I think I will. Here is the key of the testing-room; I've turned it in the lock, and brought it away with me. Seeing the door closed, the workmen will think me still inside, if they trouble about it at all."

So saying he laid that instrument down on the paper-and-pattern-strewn table, and turned away.

"Stay an instant," said the kindly old man, "I'm going into the town after six, and shall come back this way. I will see that all's right this evening instead of you, and will put Jarvis off the scent if I can honestly. And if it's anything particular up there"-pointing through the dust-clouds to the green hill-crest-"anything you would like to tell me, I shall be at home; come there at any hour."

With reiterated and very warm-hearted thanks, Abel left him on his strange and solemn errand. So long as the vagaries of the winding road would allow, every step of his upward progress was watched by his patron, and from the very unbending of the wrinkles on that patron's brow one could have told that the watching was a pleasant employment.

Samuel Barron fulfilled his promise to the letter. As the stroke of six came from his precise little corner clock he rose to depart, noting well the alacrity with which his somewhat unruly pupil Harry Justyne rushed first from the counting-house. He called him, and could but remark the sudden pallor for which there seemed no reason.

"Is Arthur gone?" he asked.

"No, sir; he won't be above five minutes, though; he's finishing the checking."

"Where's Edgeworth?"

"In the testing-room, I believe, Mr. Barron, and likely to stay-that order for Manchester."

Exactly, exactly," interrupted his interrogator, and with a nod dismissing him.

The employer walked on to the counting-house, and requested Arthur to stay and copy a couple or so of letters. This was nothing uncommon, and the clerk at once agreed.

Lastly, half an hour later, after his return from Fernside, and when the great wheels were silent, and the rooms deserted except by Jarvis and (presumably) Edgeworth, he sent the foreman home and locked up in person, as he had not done for many a year.

All these incidents were remembered afterwards as links in a sad, sad chain.

THERE are two things which speak as with a voice from heaven: that He who fills that throne must be on the side of virtue, and that which He befriends must finally prosper and prevail.-Cotton.

THE moment is hastening when the decree of heaven shall be uttered, and Providence shall pronounce upon every glory of the earth, "Its time shall be no longer."-Watts.

LORD HOWE'S VICTORY, JUNE 1ST, 1794.

EADERS of English History relating to the reign of George the Third will not need to be reminded that during a great part of that period we were at war with France, and the subject of the following remarks is one of the engagements out of which the flag of England was borne safely by a valiant though small band of worthies.

Into the stormy history of those times we can scarcely dare to glance. Society seemed shaken from her very centre-faith in God and in man had in the successes of the French Revolutionists become almost dead, and there seemed but in the hearts of the few to beat any respect for truth and liberty. Thanks, however, to the valiant few-God's heroes, which there have been in all periods, and who by keeping the lamp burning amid the Stygian darkness have been the prophets of better things to a world almost lost in the blackness of the smoke of its own baleful fires-society was saved from impending destruction.

In England, the seizure on a charge of high treason of men of position and influence aroused the passions of the lower orders, and Pitt, to stem the rising torrent of opinion against the evils of a Government and a reign which was far, indeed, from faultless, demanded as necessary to the security of the Crown and Constitution the immediate suspension of Habeas Corpus Act-the charter of English liberty. The Parliament was not averse to the proceeding, urged as it was by the powerful advocacy of Edmund Burke, and yielded the majorities that were requisite with amazing alacrity. The fear that England's welfare was at stake in the action of the reforming societies we now see to have been groundless, and when the foes of the country waxed hot in battle, there were none but that forgot their smaller differences and became truly patriotic.

Such was in some degree the state of England in the April of 1794, when the Channel fleet, commanded by Lord Howe, received its orders to proceed to Ushant to watch for a valuable French convoy, then expected from America and the West India Islands. Fog, storm, and wind bound, the little fleet of but twenty-six sail of the line and five frigates cruised for days without being able to glance into the harbour of Brest, and when the storm had somewhat moderated they found that the French fleet had slipped out to sea. About the end of May, two

French corvettes essayed to join the English fleet, which they had mistaken for their own, and were captured. Three days later Lord Howe came in sight of his opponents, and an attack was commenced, which continued with some measure of advantage to the English until darkness compelled desistance for a time. The next day with the dawn the attack was renewed, but decisive gain there was none during the hours that waned to night. On the 30th and 31st of May fog almost blotted out the existence of the enemy, but when, in the afternoon of the latter day, the fog cleared, the enemy were seen to be on the leeward.

Lord Howe used the time at his disposal to the best advantage, but night's sable mantle folded all in peace-a peace that was but a watchful preparation on both sides for the morrow; and during the night the French received reinforcements, so that when morning dawned the force was in number of ships, guns, and men considerably greater on the French side than on the English. Fired with much the same spirit that animated Drake, who, when playing at bowls on the Hoe at Plymouth, upon being told the Armada was in sight

would not stop, but said, "There was time enough to finish the game and beat the Spaniards too," so Lord Howe signalled that there was time enough for breakfast before going into action. Soon after eight o'clock the signals flew from the admiral's ship for each vessel to make ready and close for attack. Meanwhile the French fleet had been preparing, but the manoeuvres of Howe placed them at a disadvantage from the first, and after about an hour of almost hand-to-hand encounter the French admiral gave way, and steered off followed by all of his fleet that were able to take such a course. Having in some measure repaired his damages, he returned to succour his disabled companions, but success did not crown his efforts, and seven of them, mounting together 530 guns, were abandoned to their fate, struck their flags, and were immediately taken possession of by the English, and among the seven so taken was the ship Le Vengeur, concerning which we must devote more than a passing comment.

Thomas Carlyle, in his History of the French Revolution, having read the narrative of Le Vengeur's success in some earlier history of the same tragic time, asks, “But how is it, then, with that Vengeur ship, she never strikes nor makes off? She is lamed, she cannot make off; strike she will not. . . . Lo! all flags, streamers, jacks, every rag of tricolor that yet will run on rope, fly rustling aloft; the whole crew crowd to the upper deck; and with universal soul-maddening yell, shouts, 'Vive la Republique'-sinking, sinking. She staggers, she lurches, her last drunk whirl; ocean yawns abysmal! down rushes the Vengeur, carrying 'Vive la Republique' along with. her, unconquerable into eternity." Two years after, in Fraser's Magazine, the tale is reversed, and readers of Carlyle will not need to be told that the care and thoroughness which mark all his productions were devoted to the elucidation of the subject, and evidence the most convincing was forthcoming that the crew of the Vengeur had to a large extent been made prisoners some time previous to her sinking-that the ship itself had been taken possession of by the boats of the English vessels Culloden, Alfred, and others, and further that she was so disabled that, according to an eye-witness, she had "not one mast standing, nor one rope on which to hoist or display a bit of tricolor," and another testifies from actual inspection "that he could not place a two-foot rule in any direction, he thought, that would not touch two shot-holes.” How, it may be asked, came the story to be invented? and upon this point we are not left entirely in the dark. It would seem that Barrère, the "reporter and oracle" of the Salut Public, was the author, and invested the tragic scene of the Vengeur's sinking with the character of heroic non-surrender, which hung around it for forty years. The victory achieved by Lord Howe on this memorable occasion