infer that the subject was one which attracted no small degree of observation. They were probably intended mostly as mementoes or memorials. For some reason—perhaps because purity of motive is so essential to the formation of a really good character — such retributions are not so readily apparent on the surface of events, as those which are intended to deter from wrong. Yet if the illustrations must be classed among the more 'hidden treasures' of wisdom, there is no doubt that by 'seeking' and 'searching,' we may find them in abundance. Take, for instance, the following description, from 'Chambers's Edinburgh Journal,' of what is termed 'The Early-Closing Movement: ' For nine years past an association has been at work, in London, seeking, by public meetings, publication of tracts, and exertion of influence with individuals, to bring an early closing of shops.' The writer here quotes the opinion of a 'Mr. Hitchcock, of Saint Paul's Churchyard,' to the effect, that he regards the early closing of his place of business as not only a duty which he owes to others, but as 'a practice which is self-remunerating.' He also instances the conduct of one man, 'a hosier in Fleet-street,' who, when every other hosier in the street had expressed a desire to close early, refused his cooperation, and thus caused the whole movement to fall, for the time being, to the ground. 'But,' he continues, the humane traders are getting the best men, while the inhumane, or grasping ones, obtain only a comparative refuse. It stands but to reason,' he remarks, 'that the employer who treats those under him as mere machines and conveniences, utterly ignoring their feelings and interests as human beings, should find eventually that they lose many of the best properties of human nature, and become less efficient instruments even for the performance of their mechanical tasks. 'We greatly dislike to take what may be called low ground, such as that of self-interest, when urging a moral claim; but when a moral and economical cause is shown to be identical, the fact is too valuable to be lost. 'Such appears to have been proved to be the case at Price's large candlefactory at Vauxhall. The manager was led to encourage some of the young operatives in efforts at self-improvement. For several years he laid out a considerable part of his own income in promoting their health, instruction, and personal comfort; and the result was an improvement in the work, which convinced the proprietors that the profits had increased beyond the outlay. They accordingly felt themselves bound to restore the money which their manager had spent a proposal, however, which he refused to accede to, saying that he had 'only done his duty.' 'There is here, we must say, tolerably good evidence of the economic advantage of a humanely conducted establishment; for of course the proprietors would not have offered to repay their manager had they not been entirely convinced that their interest had been benefited fully up to the extent of the sum in question.' 'Only great minds trust to time,' says Burke. All others grow impa tient in the race.' But why do 'great minds trust to time?' It is no sign of greatness, nor even of common-sense, to trust without sufficient cause; and therefore the fact for it is one well authenticated - shows that they at least have noticed how surely time rebukes the wrong, and vindicates the right. LOVE'S BY YOUNG Ꭰ Ꭱ Ꭼ Ꭺ Ꮇ . RUTH HALL. 'How oft in after life some simple thing- Or young laburnums' pendent yellow chain, May bring the favorite play-place back again.'- NORTON. MR. PLUNKETT and his wife were passing down the aisle of a country church in a remote part of England, after the evening service, when the lady turned and looked at him with such an expression on her face as he had never seen there before, but which completely transfigured her usually calm lineaments, for there was a soft love-light in the yellow brown eyes, though it passed so instantaneously as to seem like an illusion, and the impassable reserve more chilling even than usual, was resumed. Through the church-yard they walked silently side by side and reëntered the ancient inn, their present temporary place of abode, for they were travellers - Americans, it was reported of immense wealth and of distinguished rank in their own country. The gentleman was really engaged in some diplomatic mission; and while obliged to await answers from the government, was improving the time by making the tour of Wales and the North-Western counties. Some years before, he had spent many months near this little town of Askleigh while visiting friends, and felt an interest in recalling old times and associations, though his former acquaintances had long passed away. But the lady, to whom the spot was supposed to be unknown, never wearied of rambling in the vicinity, and especially did she affect the 'Broad Walk,' as it was called, a fine avenue of magnificent lime-trees, whose interlacing boughs made a cool green shade even in the hottest summer-day, and which bounded one side of the church-yard; here, also, the old and gossiping portion of the poor congregated to watch the weddings or funerals continually in progress at the church; and among them Mrs. Plunkett unbent from her stately reserve and talked and listened with interest to their tales of the occupants of the graves scattered around, their peculiarities and eccentricities; especially of one old weaver, who slept peacefully in the shade of a buttress near the tower. Many were the instances told of his oddities, but more of his charity. Never had he been known to send one hungry from his door; though he frequently swore at them first, he always relieved them afterward. This, where beggars are the rule, not the exception, was no small tax on a poor tradesman pampered with debt; but a soldier himself, his pensioners, as he called those to whom he gave a small weekly stipend, shared with him to the last, and followed him weeping to the grave. Mrs. Plunkett was lavish in her aid to many of the oldest among the peasantry, and the descendants of those who had worked for the weaver or been cared for by him, were especially favored. She settled a small annuity on a venerable woman of eighty, who had lived as servant-girl in this family in her youth; and many was the pound presented here and there to aid in paying the rent or buying the inevitable pig which made the fortunate possessor a millionaire in the view of his still poorer neighbors. It is not then to be wondered at, that the foreigners, as they were called, notwithstanding their molasses-colored attendants, were very popular even in the most bigoted and illiberal spot in the world, an English country-town. But to return to our story — if it is worth so dignified a name. The lady retired to her own room, while the husband smoked his segar on the bowlinggreen at the rear of the building; but the remembrance of the look he had witnessed haunted him. 'Is it possible,' he soliloquized, 'that Rhoda is beginning to regard me with warmer feelings; it cannot be that she loves me,' with pondering hesitation; then with bitter irony: 'Not only a fool, but an old fool, still more inexcusable. If passion begets its like, would she not have been wooed and won before I saw her, belle and idol as she was? nay, would not my adoration since have awakened a return? But no. And why should I repine; can I forget how happy I considered myself when she consented to become my wife, though confessing friendship the warmest sentiment of which she was capable?' "I loved once and forever,' said she, ‘and believe myself now impervious to the passion. If you are satisfied with what esteem I have to bestow, I am willing to become yours.' So when the handsomest man of his day was rejected, when a Russian noble and an English peer shared the same fate, and I, merely an Irish gentleman, with neither title, wealth nor claim to distinction, and sixteen years her senior, was received with a cordiality she showed no other, loving as I did, with all the ardor of youth and intensity of middle age, was it to be wondered at that I deceived myself with the belief that I could be satisfied with the calm liking she expressed, that it seemed happiness enough to call her mine, to secure her from possible rivals, that she bore my name and inhabited the same dwelling? Once I experienced bliss in such considerations; yet so exacting is love, that I now find myself incessantly occupied with vain longings for the affection wasted on an unknown object, so faithful, so absorbing, as to admit of no renewal. 'I watch the beaming eye in vain for a glance of sympathy, and if forgetting the bounds prescribed, I venture on a tender expression or caress, it is received with such icy rigor as chills me to the soul. Sometimes the dreadful thought is suggested that she mistook her own heart, being so young, and has since perceived the possibility of loving again, and regrets her bondage. 'Since our arrival in Europe, there has been a marked change in her demeanor; cold and distrait, she was always, now completely self-absorbed and desirous of solitude. Great GOD! she, too, may be pining under a hopeless passion, looking upon me as the bane of her young life. I must see her instantly; my darling must be happy at any sacrifice on my part, even to our eternal separation; but my fate must be at once decided, suspense at this juncture would drive me mad.' He passed through the open window into the parlor, determined to seek his wife without delay, when she met him face to face. Never, even to his eyes, had she looked so beautiful, for her cheeks were flushed, and a timid hesitation gave a nameless charm to her usually placid face. He saw her agitation, though striving hard for composure, and as she put out her hand to arrest his progress and claim his attention, it trembled perceptibly. Mr. Plunkett,' said she, 'I would speak with you,' and he sank into a chair with a groan, covering his face with his hands as he leaned on the table, for he felt to his inmost heart that she loved, and believed she had sought him to disclose the fact and claim her freedom, and he shuddered in anticipation. She paused not, but hurried, as it appeared, to a climax. my fate had met 'When you asked for my hand,' she resumed, 'I did not attempt to disguise the fact that I was lowly born, the daughter and grand-daughter of a mechanic. You were not deceived; but the whole of my history I did not disclose, for the reason that I had determined to recount it here on this spot. This is my native place. I was an only daughter, petted, indulged, and until the age of fourteen the most childish of mortals in tastes, habits and pursuits; of a dreamy and poetical temperament which loneliness had contributed to foster. No school-girl fancies or flirtations ever had been mine, partly because I was a very plain child, (you need not smile, I am perfectly aware of my personal advantages now,) and partly because my ideal hero, had I thought on the subject, would most assuredly have been drawn from some book or poem. One summer-day I met a lady and gentleman sauntering under the lime-trees in yon avenue, and they raised their eyes carelessly on the slight obstacle in their path. The woman I have forgotten, but as the fine gray orbs of her companion met mine, I was conscious of an unknown sensation me there. To others probably he was merely a passable figure in the prime of life, to me he was a revelation. A child when we met, a woman's heart beat in my slight form as we passed, and he noticed me no more, thought of me no more than he would of a little dog which had for an instant prevented his passage. I soon learnt of his whereabouts. Strangers were even rarer then than now in this out-of-the-way hamlet, and a day scarcely went by without my having made or found the opportunity of gazing on him; any thing farther never entered my head; it would probably have frightened me had I supposed him aware even of my existence, much more of my blind adoration. To catch a glimpse of him as he wandered through the grounds, no matter at what distance, for this I would walk miles contentedly, returning satisfied and elate; but if by chance he was invisible, what tortures wrung my breast lest he had taken his departure; when he reäppeared, how I watched every gesture, treasured every tone, that memory might reproduce them during absence. A morbid state of feeling, you will say, induced by a peculiar temperament and mental isolation. I am not going to account for my feelings, only to describe them; they were, however, deep enough to make an indelible impression, and when in after-years other fancies were tried by comparison with this first absorbing passions they have faded into thin air, and I knew myself heart-whole. Yet from first to last, he was unaware of my existence; no spiritualism or animal magnetism ever warned him of the presence of his worshipper in the person of the pale little girl who so often crossed his path. He always used one kind of perfume, some preparation of violets; of course it became dear to me as an indication of his whereabouts. You use it also, and perhaps that was to me your first attraction, so subtly are old associations connected with 'scents known and loved before;' neither are sounds less potent. During the time of which I speak, my attendance at church was constant. There was the certainty of seeing him, the pleasure of being in the same building. And once in passing through the porch, he brushed my dress in the crowd, nearly causing me to faint with emotion; it was the first time I had ever been so close to him. The same sensation agitated me to-night; the recollection was so vivid as I heard the voluntary on the organ at the close of service. Plunkett quailed. This then accounted for the glance which had maddened him; she was thinking of her first love. Her confidence was torture, but Rhoda, heeding nothing, went on. 'His image-so vividly impressed, so mingled with the early dreams of life's spring never faded. My parents soon afterward emigrated to America, and on the far Western plains fell victims to a band of Indians, who massacred the whole party with the exception of myself, whom an old chief saved and adopted in place of an only daughter. As I grew up, they called me 'Soonseetah or the Sunny Eye,' and there seemed no bounds to the affection these rude people felt for me; no menial service was ever required at my hands, but instead, an old priest, Father Paul, who had resided as a missionary among them many years, undertook my education. I had passed my youth with books, and made some progress in the study of modern languages. Having a remarkable talent for their acquisition, this taste he fostered, and French and Italian became our household tongues; the native Indian dialect of course was familiar to me, and my acquisitions from the aborigines stopped not there. Not only did my step acquire the fleetness and my bearing the dignity belong ing to this noble race, but I also unconsciously learned an impassable look and calm quietness of gesture. With my venerable and indefatigable teacher I read the choicest authors in the originals; I knew every bird and plant in the region round, their properties and peculiarities, and with a restless activity of mind, as well as a certain hopeful ambition, I pursued every branch of knowledge in my power with avidity, urged by a desire to please my monitor, and a dim expectation of some time leaving the wilderness. At length a returning trapper, whom Father Paul had befriended, undertook to carry a letter to the governor of a neighboring State, in which he set forth my captivity and desire for release. A party of soldiers were sent to remove me, and I parted from my captors with tears, but happy to return to the world. At this time I was seventeen. Inquiries were set on foot for any surviving relatives who might wish to claim me. None appeared, and the Governor, |