fatigue. The three Miss Browns stood it out very well, because they relieved each other; but the children, having no relief at all, exhibited decided symptoms of weariness and care. The unthinking part of the parishioners laughed at all this, but the more reflective portion of the inhabitants abstained from expressing any opinion on the subject until that of the curate had been clearly ascertained.

The opportunity was not long wanting. The curate preached a charity sermon on behalf of the charity school, and in the charity sermon aforesaid expatiated in glowing terms on the praiseworthy and indefatigable exertions of certain estimable individuals. Sobs were heard to issue from the three Miss Browns' pew; the pew-opener of the division was seen to hurry down the centre aisle to the vestry door, and to return immediately, bearing a glass of water in her hand. A low moaning ensued. Two more pew-openers rushed to the spot, and the three Miss Browns, each supported by a pew-opener, were led out of the church, and led in again, after the lapse of five minutes, with white pocket-handkerchiefs to .their eyes, as if they had been attending a funeral in the church-yard adjoining. If any doubt had for a moment existed as to whom the allusion was intended to apply, it was at once removed. The wish to enlighten the charity children became universal, and the three Miss Browns were unanimously besought to divide the school into classes, and to assign each class to the superintendence of two young ladies.

A little learning is a dangerous thing, but a little patronage is more so. The three Miss Browns appointed all the old maids, and carefully excluded the young ones. Maiden aunts triumphed, mammas were reduced to the lowest depths of despair, and there is no telling in what act of violence the general indignation against the three Miss Browns might have vented itself, had not a perfectly providential occurrence changed the tide of public feeling. Mrs. Johnson Parker, the mother of seven extremely fine girls —all unmarried-hastily reported to several other mammas of several other unmarried families, that five old men, six old women, and children innumerable, in the free seats near her pew, were in the habit of coming to church every Sunday, without either Bible or Prayer-book. Was this to be borne in a civilized country? Could such things be tolerated in a Christian land? Never! A Ladies' Bible and Prayer-book Distribution Society was instantly formed: president, Mrs. Johnson Parker; treasurers, auditors, and secretary, the Misses Johnson Parker. Subscriptions were entered into, books were bought, all the free-seat people provided therewith, and when the first lesson was given out, on the first Sunday succeeding these events, there was such a dropping of books and rustling of leaves, that it was morally impossible to hear one word of the service for five minutes afterward.

retorted Mrs. Johnson Parker. A balance of parties took place. The Miss Browns publicly examined— popular feeling inclined to the Child's Examination Society. The Miss Johnson Parkers publicly distributed-a reaction took place in favor of the Prayerbook Distribution. A feather would have turned the scale, and a feather did turn it. A missionary returned from the West Indies: he was to be presented to the Dissenters' Missionary Society on his marriage with a wealthy widow. Overtures were made to the Dissenters by the Johnson Parkers. Their object was the same, and why not have a joint meeting of the two societies? The proposition was accepted. The meeting was duly heralded by public announcement, and the room was crowded to suffocation. The missionary appeared on the platform; he was hailed with enthusiasm. He repeated a dialogue he had heard between two negroes, behind a hedge, on the subject of distribution societies; the approbation was tumultuous. He gave an imitation of the two negroes in broken English; the roof was rent with applause. From that period we date (with one trifling exception) a daily increase in the popularity of the Distribution Society, and an increase of popularity, which the feeble and impotent opposition of the Examination party has only tended to augment.

Now, the great points about the Childbed-linen Monthly Loan Society are, that it is less dependent on the fluctuations of public opinion than either the Distribution or the Child's Examination; and that, come what may, there is never any lack of objects on which to exercise its benevolence. Our parish is a very populous one, and, if any thing, contributes, we should be disposed to say, rather more than its due share to the aggregate amount of births in the metropolis and its environs. The consequence is, that the Monthly Loan Society flourishes, and invests its members with a most enviable amount of bustling patronage. The society (whose only notion of dividing time would appear to be its allotment into months) holds monthly tea-drinkings, at which the monthly report is received, a secretary elected for the month ensuing, and such of the monthly boxes as may not happen to be out on loan for the month carefully examined.

We were never present at one of these meetings, from all of which, it is scarcely necessary to say, gentlemen are carefully excluded; but Mr. Bung has been called before the Board once or twice, and we have his authority for stating that its proceedings are conducted with great order and regularity; not more than four members being allowed to speak at one time on any pretense whatever. The regular committee is composed exclusively of married ladies; but a vast number of young unmarried ladies of from eighteen to twenty-five years of age, respectively, are admitted as honorary members, partly because they are very useful in replenishing the boxes and visiting the confined; partly because it is highly desirable that they should be initiated, at an early period, into the more serious and matronly duties of afterlife; and partly because prudent mammas have-not unfrequently been known to turn this circumstance to wonderfully good account in matrimonial specu

In addition to the loan of the monthly boxes (which are always painted blue, with the name of the society in large white letters on the lid), the society dispenses occasional grants of beef-tea, and a composition of warm beer, spice, eggs, and sugar, commonly known by the name of "caudle," to its patients. And here, again, the services of the honorary members are called into requisition, and most cheerfully conceded. Deputations of twos or threes are sent out to visit the patients, and on these occasions there is such a tasting of caudle and beef-tea, such a stirring-about of little messes in tiny saucepans on the hob; such a dressing and undressing of infants; such a tying, and folding, and pinning; such a nursing and warming of little legs and feet before the fire; such a delightful confusion of talking and cooking, bustle, importance, and officiousness, as never can be enjoyed in its full extent but on similar occasions.

In rivalry of these two institutions, and as a last expiring effort to acquire parochial popularity, the Child's Examination people determined, the other day, on having a grand public examination of the pupils; and the large school-room of the national seminary was, by and with the consent of the parish authorities, devoted to the purpose. Invitation circulars were forwarded to all the principal parishioners, including, of course, the heads of the other two societies, for whose especial behoof and edification the display was intended; and a large audience was confidently anticipated on the occasion. The floor was carefully scrubbed the day before, under the immediate superintendence of the three Miss Browns; forms were placed across the room for the accommodation of the visitors; specimens in writing were carefully selected, and as carefully patched and touched up, until they astonished the children who had written them rather more than the company who read them; sums in compound addition were rehearsed and re-rehearsed until all the children had the totals by heart; and the preparations altogether were on the most laborious and most comprehensive scale. The morning arrived: the children were yellow-soaped and flanneled and toweled till their faces shone again; every pupil's hair was carefully combed into his or her eyes, as the case might be; the girls were adorned with snow-white tippets, and caps bound round the head by a single purple ribbon: the necks of the elder boys were fixed into collars of startling dimensions.

The doors were thrown open, and the Misses Brown & Co. were discovered in plain white-muslin dresses, and caps of the same-the Child's Examination uniform. The room filled: the greetings of the company were loud and cordial. The Distributionists trembled, for their popularity was at stake. The eldest boy fell forward, and delivered a propitiatory address from behind his collar: it was from the pen of Mr. Henry Brown. The applanse was universal, and the Johnson Parkers were aghast. The examination proceeded with success, and terminated in triumph. The Child's Examination Society gained a momentary victory, and the Johnson Parkers retreated in despair.

A secret council of the Distributionists was held that night, with Mrs. Johnson Parker in the chair, to

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consider of the best means of recovering the ground they had lost in the favor of the parish. What could be done? Another meeting? Alas! who was to attend it? The missionary would not do twice; and the slaves were emancipated. A bold step must be taken. The parish must be astonished in some way or other; but no one was able to suggest what the step should be. At length a very old lady was heard to mumble, in indistinct tones, "Exeter Hall." A sudden light broke in upon the meeting. It was unanimously resolved that a deputation of old ladies should wait upon a celebrated orator, imploring his assistance, and the favor of a speech; and the deputation should also wait on two or three other imbecile old women, not resident in the parish, and entreat their attendance. The application was successful, the meeting was held; the orator (an Irishman) came. He talked of green isles-other shores -vast Atlantic-bosom of the deep-Christian charity-blood and extermination - mercy in heartsarms in hands-altars and homes-household gods. He wiped his eyes, he blew his nose, and he quoted Latin. The effect was tremendous-the Latin was a decided hit. Nobody knew exactly what it was about, but every body knew it must be affecting, because even the orator was overcome. The popularity of the Distribution Society among the ladies of our parish is unprecedented, and the Child's Examination is going fast to decay.

CHAPTER VII.

OUR NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR.

E are very fond of speculating, as we walk through a street, on the character and pursuits of the people who inhabit it; and nothing so materially assists us in these speculations as the appearance of the house-doors. The various expressions of the human countenance afford a beautiful and interesting study; but there is something in the physiognomy of street-door knockers almost as characteristic, and nearly as infallible. Whenever we visit a man for the first time, we contemplate the features of his knocker with the greatest curiosity, for we well know that between the man and his knocker there will inevitably be a greater or less degree of resemblance and sympathy.

For instance, there is one description of knocker that used to be common enough, but which is fast passing away-a large round one, with the jolly face of a convivial lion smiling blandly at you, as you twist the sides of your hair into a curl, or pull up your shirt-collar while you are waiting for the door to be opened. We never saw that knocker on the door of a churlish man: so far as our experience is concerned, it invariably bespoke hospitality and another bottle.

No man ever saw this knocker on the door of a small attorney or bill-broker: they always patronize the other lion; a heavy, ferocious - looking fellow, with a countenance expressive of savage stupidity -a sort of grand-master among the knockers, and a great favorite with the selfish and brutal.

Then there is a little pert Egyptian knocker, with

a long, thin face, a pinched-up nose, and a very sharp chin: he is most in vogue with your Governmentoffice people, in light drabs and starched cravats; little spare, priggish men, who are perfectly satisfied with their own opinions, and consider themselves of paramount importance.

We were greatly troubled, a few years ago, by the innovation of a new kind of knocker, without any face at all, composed of a wreath, depending from a hand or small truncheon. A little trouble and attention, however, enabled us to overcome this difficulty, and to reconcile the new system to our favorite theory. You will invariably find this knocker on the doors of cold and formal people, who always ask you why you don't come, and never say do.

Every body knows the brass knocker is common to suburban villas and extensive boarding-schools; and, having noticed this genus, we have recapitulated all the most prominent and strongly defined species.

Some phrenologists affirm that the agitation of a man's brain by different passions produces corresponding developments in the form of his skull. Do not let us be understood as pushing our theory to the full length of asserting that any alteration in a man's disposition would produce a visible effect on the feature of his knocker. Our position merely is, that in such a case the magnetism which must exist between a man and his knocker would induce the man to remove, and seek some knocker more congenial to his altered feelings. If you ever find a man changing his habitation without any reasonable pretext, depend upon it that, although he may not be aware of the fact himself, it is because he and his knocker are at variance. This is a new theory, but we venture to launch it, nevertheless, as being quite as ingenious and infallible as many thousands of the learned speculations which are daily broached for public good and private fortune-making.

Entertaining these feelings on the subject of knockers, it will be readily imagined with what consternation we viewed the entire removal of the knocker from the door of the next house to the one we lived in, some time ago, and the substitution of a bell. This was a calamity we had never anticipated. The bare idea of any body being able to exist without a knocker appeared so wild and visionary, that it had never for one instant entered our imagination.

We sauntered moodily from the spot, and bent our steps toward Eaton Square, then just building. What was our astonishment and indignation to find that bells were fast becoming the rule, and knockers the exception! Our theory trembled beneath the shock. We hastened home; and, fancying we foresaw in the swift progress of events its entire abolition, resolved from that day forward to vent our speculations on our next-door neighbors in person. The house adjoining ours on the left hand was uninhabited, and we had therefore plenty of leisure to observe our next-door neighbors on the other side.

The house without the knocker was in the occupation of a City clerk, and there was a neatly written bill in the parlor window intimating that lodgings for a single gentleman were to be let within.

It was a neat, dull little house, on the shady side

of the way, with new, narrow floor-cloth in the passage, and new, narrow stair-carpets up to the first floor. The paper was new, and the paint was new, and the furniture was new; and all three-paper, paint, and furniture-bespoke the limited means of the tenant. There was a little red-and-black carpet in the drawing-room, with a border of flooring all the way round, a few stained chairs, and a pembroke table. A pink shell was displayed on each of the little sideboards, which, with the addition of a tea-tray and caddy, a few more shells on the mantel-piece, and three peacock's feathers tastefully arranged above them, completed the decorative furniture of the apartment.

This was the room destined for the reception of the single gentleman during the day, and a little back room on the same floor was assigned as his sleeping-apartment by night.

The bill had not been long in the window, when a stout, good-humored-looking gentleman, of about five-and-thirty, appeared as a candidate for the tenancy. Terms were soon arranged, for the bill was taken down immediately after his first visit. In a day or two the single gentleman came in, and shortly afterward his real character came out.

First of all, he displayed a most extraordinary partiality for sitting up till three or four o'clock in the morning, drinking whisky-and-water, and smoking cigars; then he invited friends home, who used to come at ten o'clock, and begin to get happy about the small hours, when they evinced their perfect contentment by singing songs with half a dozen verses of two lines each, and a chorus of ten, which chorus used to be shouted forth by the whole strength of the company in the most enthusiastic and vociferous manner, to the great annoyance of the neighbors, and the special discomfort of another single gentleman overhead.

Now this was bad enough, occurring as it did three times a week on the average; but this was not all, for, when the company did go away, instead of walking quietly down the street, as any body else's company would have done, they amused themselves by making alarming and frightful noises, and counterfeiting the shrieks of females in distress; and one night a red-faced gentleman in a white hat knocked in the most urgent manner at the door of the powdered-headed old gentleman at No. 3, and when the powdered-headed old gentleman, who thought one of his married daughters must have been taken ill prematurely, had groped down-stairs and, after a great deal of unbolting and key-turning, opened the street-door, the red-faced man in the white hat said he hoped he'd excuse his giving him so much trouble, but he'd feel obliged if he'd favor him with a glass of cold spring water, and the loan of a shilling for a cab to take him home; on which the old gentleman slammed the door and went upstairs, and threw the contents of his water-jug out of window— very straight, only it went over the wrong mau; and the whole street was involved in confusion.

A joke's a joke; and even practical jests are very capital in their way, if you can only get the other party to see the fun of them; but the population of our street were so dull of apprehension as to be quite lost to a sense of the drollery of this proceed

ing; and the consequence was that our next-door neighbor was obliged to tell the single gentleman that, unless he gave up entertaining his friends at home, he really must be compelled to part with him. The single gentleman received the remonstrance with great good-humor, and promised from that time forward to spend his evenings at a coffee-house-a determination which afforded general and unmixed satisfaction.

The next night passed off very well, every body being delighted with the change; but on the next, the noises were renewed with greater spirit than ever. The single gentleman's friends being unable

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Such

single gentleman who had just quit it. He was a tall, thin young gentleman, with a profusion of brown hair, reddish whiskers, and very slightly developed mustache. He wore a braided surtout with frogs behind, light gray trousers, and wash-leather gloves, and had altogether rather a military appearance. So unlike the roistering single gentleman. insinuating manners, and such a delightful address! So seriously disposed, too! When he first came to look at the lodgings, he inquired most particularly whether he was sure to be able to get a seat in the parish church; and when he had agreed to take them, he requested to have a list of the different lo

to see him in his own house every alternate night, had come to the determination of seeing him home every night; and what with the discordant greetings of the friends at parting, and the noise created by the single gentleman in his passage upstairs, and his subsequent struggles to get his boots off, the evil was not to be borne. So our next-door neighbor gave the single gentleman, who was a very good lodger in other respects, notice to quit; and the single gentleman went away, and entertained his friends in other lodgings.

The next applicant for the vacant first floor was of a very different character from the troublesome

cal charities, as he intended to subscribe his mite to the most deserving among them.

Our next-door neighbor was now perfectly happy. He had got a lodger at last of just his own way of thinking-a serious, well-disposed man, who abhorred gayety, and loved retirement. He took down the bill with a light heart, and pictured in imagination a long series of quiet Sundays, on which he and his lodger would exchange mutual civilities and Sunday papers.

The serious man arrived, and his luggage was to arrive from the country next morning. He borrowed a clean shirt and a prayer-book from our next-door

or murmur.

Whether this occurrence, coupled with the irregularities of his former lodger, gave our next-door neighbor an aversion to single gentlemen, we know not; we only know that the next bill which made its appearance in the parlor window intimated generally that there were furnished apartments to let on the first floor. The bill was soon removed. The new lodgers at first attracted our curiosity, and afterward excited our interest.

They were a young lad of eighteen or nineteen, and his mother, a lady of about fifty, or it might be less. The mother wore a widow's weeds, and the boy was also clothed in deep mourning. They were poor- very poor: for their only means of support arose from the pittance the boy earned by copying writings, and translating for book-sellers.

They had removed from some country place and settled in London; partly because it afforded better chances of employment for the boy, and partly, perhaps, with the natural desire to leave a place where they had been in better circumstances, and where their poverty was known. They were proud under their reverses, and above revealing their wants and privations to strangers. How bitter those privatious were, and how hard the boy worked to remove them, no one ever knew but themselves. Night after night, two, three, four hours after midnight, could we hear the occasional raking-up of the scanty fire, or the hollow and half-stifled cough, which indicated his being still at work; and day after day could we see more plainly that Nature had set that unearthly | light in his plaintive face which is the beacon of her worst disease.

Actuated, we hope, by a higher feeling than mere curiosity, we contrived to establish, first an acquaintauce, and then a close intimacy, with the poor strangers. Our worst fears were realized; the boy was sinking fast. Through a part of the winter, and the whole of the following spring and summer, his labors were unceasingly prolonged; and the mother attempted to procure needle-work, embroidery-any thing for bread.

One beautiful autumn evening we went to pay our customary visit to the invalid. His little remaining strength had been decreasing rapidly for two or three days preceding, and he was lying on the sofa at the open window, gazing at the setting sun. His mother had been reading the Bible to him, for she closed the book as we entered, and advanced to meet us.

"I was telling William," she said, "that we must manage to take him into the country somewhere, so that he may get quite well. He is not ill, you know, but he is not very strong, and has exerted himself too much lately." Poor thing! The tears that streamed through her fingers as she turned aside, as if to adjust her close widow's cap, too plainly showed how fruitless was the attempt to deceive herself.

We sat down by the head of the sofa, but said nothing, for we saw the breath of life was passing gently but rapidly from the young form before us. At every respiration his heart beat more slowly.

The boy placed one hand in ours, grasped his mother's arm with the other, drew her hastily toward him, and fervently kissed her cheek. There was a pause. He sunk back upon his pillow, aud looked long and earnestly in his mother's face.

"William, William!" murmured the mother, after a long interval, "don't look at me so-speak to me, dear!"

The boy smiled languidly, but an instant afterward his features resolved into the same cold, solemn gaze:

"William, dear William! rouse yourself. Don't look at me so, love-pray don't! Oh, my God! what shall I do?" cried the widow, clasping her hands in agony-"my dear boy! he is dying!"

The boy raised himself by a violent effort and folded his hands together-"Mother! dear, dear mother, bury me in the open fields-anywhere but in these dreadful streets. I should like to be where you can see my grave, but not in these close, crowded streets; they have killed me. Kiss me again, mother; put your arm round my neck—"

He fell back, and a strange expression stole upon his features, not of pain or suffering, but an indescribable fixing of every line and muscle.

The boy was dead.