daily journies thither-sometimes from Holloway, at others from Clapton-did not cost more than those other offices of which I have spoken. But perhaps I was singularly unfortunate. I know I out-stayed every other governess who frequented the place, but whether they all obtained engagements or not I am unprepared to say. Of one thing I am certain: there is a very good rule for the employées, to the effect that if they do not acquaint the "lady resident" with the fact of their obtaining a situation, their names are erased from the books, never to be admitted there again; and equally certain that some such rule should be made for the employers. Often and often has it been my lot to find on reaching a lady's residence that she has been a long time "suited." One word more to the young governess about Scholastic Agents. One of the most respectable once sent me the address of a certain Monsieur A-, residing at Chalk Farm. A beloved and tender elder brother accompanied me to the place, where we saw a person styling herself "the housekeeper," and who informed us that her master was not at home; but in answer to our enquiries said, that monsieur had a boys' school, and kept an English teacher for the girls; that the two establishments were under one roof, that the lady lived there, and did just as she liked; that monsieur went into the girls' school daily to teach French, that he had no other female living there, besides the governess and herself, (the housekeeper,) that she did not know if he was married or not, but he was a fine handsome agreeable man, and she (the speaker) should think an agreeable companion for any young lady. Now, so young and inexperienced was I at that time, (and doubtless there are many like me,) that had I been left to act entirely alone, I should have taken that situation without one moment's hesitation, and I found out afterwards that I should have been urged to do so, for I had two applications from monsieur. Nor let my reader suppose that this was long ago, and things have changed since then. They may have changed, I pray to God they have. But it is only five years since I was seeking an engagement in the modern Babylon, month after month: though so heavily has trailed the garment of sorrow around those years, that old Time has seemed to relax his pace, and I feel to have lived a life-time.

But to conclude my adventures, the clerk of a well known Clerical and Scholastic Agent, by far the most respectable I have ever known, wrote to inform me that Captain of Woolwich re

quired a governess.

The name was one of world-wide fame, and the captain, whose father was descended from their great namesake, seemed to inherit all that hero's noble qualities. I had known his mother when I was a child, and brightening with hope, instantly wrote to him; a speedy answer appointed an hour for me to call at his residence. How vividly that journey comes before me! It was Shrove Tuesday, cold and raw. Cold enough in a first-class railway carriage; colder still when

I took the Woolwich steamer at Blackwall. I had humbly asked God, before leaving home that morning, to work his own will concerning me, and make his child plastic, "as clay in the hands of the potter." I had asked for submission under disappointment, or a grateful heart in case of success, and I felt happy amidst all my anxiety. After landing I had a long walk, before reaching Captain -'s residence, and this braced and prepared me for the interview. I was shewn into a pretty morning room, through the partially closed folding doors of which I could see a table littered with papers. Through those doors came soon a pleasant genial-looking man, with hair just turning grey. After a little conversation in which he mentioned that Mr. the agent had answered his advertisement in the Times, and that he did not use those offices, I spoke of his mother, that dear, venerable old lady. Instantly rising he said, "You come from ?" "I do."

Taking my hand he led me hastily upstairs into a drawing-room, where a lady and her daughter were seated. "My dear," exclaimed the captain, "this is Miss, and she knew my dear mother." Tenderly that gentle hearted woman took my hand in hers, and then while the tears stood in her eyes placed it in her daughter's. Then the captain called his son from an inner room and bade him receive me too. And I had never seen these people before! had only lived in the same village with their aged relative, and been occasionally petted by her when a little one. For I am not too proud to say that I was beneath them in position, though had it been otherwise, I must have felt honored by the sympathy of such noble hearts.

The captain pointing to his daughter, who was perhaps seventeen years of age, told me it was for his little girl that a finishing governess was required, only a few hours in the morning. "Was I not too young? And where did I reside?" When the answer came, he scolded Mr. for sending me all that long way on such a fool's errand, but pleasantly and cheerfully too. And then he asked to look at my drawings, and I shewed some, which in their kind heartedness they admired very much. After which the two ladies shewed me theirs, (for mother and daughter had been studying together,) and I could not regard my own with equanimity for months afterwards. Then they sent for refreshments, and I tried to swallow a glass of wine and could not for the choking tears. And seeing how I was overcome they did not urge me to stay; but when I reached the hall, the kind captain put his hand into my muff, and left a silver coin there, saying, "We must not let you put yourself to all this expense on our account, dear Miss Then with a hearty shake of the hand wished me "good-bye."

and all

And I went forth into the chill grey atmosphere, seemed dark around me. I had prayed to be resigned, and I think I was. Yet my tears fell unceasingly, and though I did not murmur, I had no hope, no anticipations. Even thought seemed stagnant, and I walked mechanically, unheeding the people whom I met,

down to the pier. There I obtained my ticket, and in spite of the cold east wind, sat down at the side of the boat, permitting my tears to drop down and mingle with the gloomy river, so like my own dark future. It would have been bliss to rush and lock myself in my own room on reaching home, but we are an orthodox family, therefore I nearly choked myself trying to swallow pan-cakes and tears together. It was not (as I reasoned with myself when alone) that this disappointment was so much greater than its predecessors, but the unexpected kindness oppressed me. It came like water in the desert, like balm to the aching heart, and yet it made me weep, as I have wept on a few, and only a few, occasions in my life. Still, I was undeniably disappointed-not of course that I did not obtain the situation, but that it proved so unsuitable. I felt, oh! so humbled, and so small, when I thought about having applied for it, and every time I remembered the kind encouragement of those noble hearted people, I felt more and more insignificant. I think this was my last failure, but all that passed immediately afterwards has quite vanished from my memory.

My next recollection is of hearing from a kind relative in Manchester that she had advertised for me in the " Guardian," and obtained several answers; my next that I had to call upon a lady in London, who was commissioned by her friend in the country to "look at me;" and my next, that on the day after Good Friday, I was travelling, as fast as steam could carry me, away to the North. If any have followed me through my trials with interest, they will be gratified to learn that in the cotton metropolis there awaited my arrival, a truly comfortable home, a new friend, and three intelligent pupils. My trials at first were numerous in my new position; but by patience, I surmounted all difficulties. One more memory of the past, and I have finished. I recollect that as soon

as I found myself alone, on that first night with strangers, I thanked God with an overflowing heart for his present mercies, but even more for those which I then began to feel had been “blessings in disguise."

LVIII-A DISCONTENTED PAPER.

FROM THE PORTFOLIO OF AN OPTIMIST.

II.

"Now, here's another discontented paper."-Shakspeare.

FOR the first time in my life I have recently been in a public house parlor, and, oddly enough, at the command of a lady; no other, in fact, than our Sovereign Lady the Queen. My habits are SO quiet, and, as far as public meddling goes, so uncitizen-like, that

it was with unbounded surprise, almost incredulity, that I received the other evening from a beadle-looking personage with a long coat and short hair, a summons to present myself at a given time at the 'Pig and Whistle,' to enquire, in Her Majesty's name and under the guidance of Blank Blank, Esquire, Her Majesty's Coroner for the county, touching the death of Henry Blank. I own it, I winced at this invitation; not only because I knew what sort of company my fellow jurymen would be, but because upon enquiry of my tradespeople, I found that poor 'Henry' had been a baby, and a recent breach in my own circle would make it particularly painful to me to be called upon to view the body,' as of course I should be. Unknown to me, a lady who has more right to my presence (I say it without prejudice to loyalty) than even my Sovereign Lady, made efforts to get me off, but in vain, for good and true men were scarce just at that time.

Ten o'clock on a wet morning found me at the door of the Pig and Whistle,' where I was hailed by a seedy-looking person in whom I recognised a probable brother juryman. Of him I enquired where the room was, where the body' was, what sort of man the Coroner was, what the ceremonies were, and other matters interesting to the nervous curiosity of a juryman about to make his début. Other jurymen now began to gather together, and we adjourned from the damp street to the parlor of the 'Pig and Whistle;' where conversation began, in which I could take no part, for lack of knowledge of the antecedents of the interlocutors, and lack of interest in the topics discussed; which I am bound to say were chiefly beer, spirits, pipes, cigars, and matters of domestic detail furnishing food for chaff of most infinitesimal humour. I turned over a Directory, and after some vain attempts to be sociable with my neighbours, became exclusively a listener. The chief facts which I gathered were that these men, tradesmen and small householders of the neighbourhood, were habitués of the parlor; that their lives would be a blank without their evening jollification there; and that their chief "thing of beauty and joy for ever" was the conventional plaster Venus opposite the pier-glass, who held lucifers in one hand and a gas burner in the other.

By and bye Her Majesty's Coroner came, and his advent was signalised by a reverential dropping of eyelids and of small talk, and doffing of hats. He was very polite, and as soon as he had seated himself, pulled out some paper and pens, and filled up a Return, -called upon the beadle-looking person to 'open the court, Crier.' Then followed an eminently ridiculous episode. Crier went to the door of the parlor, and thrusting his closely cropped head out into the bar, addressed himself, in the voice of a costermonger calling greens, to the barmaid (there was no one else to hear him) in these imperative but slightly inappropriate terms:-"O yes! O yes! O yes! All you who are summoned to be and appear-in the Queen's name" and so forth, adjuring them (i.e., the barmaid) to appear

instantly, and enquire touching the death of Henry Blank. Now ensued the counting of the jurymen, and three being found wanting, the beadle rushed out, and soon returned with that number of neighbours to make up,-one a panting barber with crumbs in his whiskers, and in a state of quite indescribable undress. When the barber had winked at everybody but me, the Coroner administered the oaths; and I am sorry to say I took my part of the adjuration in a very irreverent manner, and most positively did not kiss the book, but only pretended to do so, not liking the look of it, or of the fingers through which it had passed. Fortunately for me, the humour of the whole procedure was stronger than the pathos, except once or twice during the examination of the weeping mother; but I had a headache afterwards which lasted two or three days.

The mother of the dead child was a nice, pretty little creature; her husband was one of those 'men' (by courtesy) concerning whom you wonder how women can be found to marry them, and how it is that there is not some exceptional dispensation of nature to prevent, at all events, their becoming the fathers of large families of ricketty children. He was harmless, (except by default,) yellow-faced, lank-haired, small and insignificant, and sat, hat on knee, with wooden face and lacklustre eye through the whole ceremony. As soon as the medical man appeared,—he was the only person in the room known to me,-the examination commenced. It had the usual features of all examinations conducted by men of quite moderate intelligence. The Coroner repeatedly told both the surgeon and the mother not to be "alarmed" or not to go from the question, when all the while his own interrogations were so ill-framed that the wonder was that he got anything at all relevant in reply. I will mention one curious, almost incredible instance on his part, of incapacity in a mind of fifth-rate culture to take for a moment the stand-point of another of fifteenth-rate culture. Instead of saying to the mother, "What did the doctor tell you was the matter with the child when you took it to him?" he must needs use a word of Latin origin, and say-carefully dropping his H by-thebye "What did he lead you to appre-end?" The mother did not understand this, and answered apropos de rien. The Coroner kept on, over and over again, making the same demand of her, and at last was losing temper, when both the doctor and the poor little husband struck in with, "She don't know what that is-ask her what he told her." With a soupçon of offended pride in his manner, the Coroner came down from the heights of his Latinity, and put a plain English question to the woman, receiving in return a reasonable answer.

But the most startling part of the whole story was the cause of the child's death. The husband was a journeyman painter, not out of work, and the family had Irish stew for supper the same night; but for dinner these wretched little olive-branches had, it seemed, red herrings! Poor little Henry, with whooping-cough yet hanging about him, and not more than thirteen months old, had been helped first, and had swallowed a bone which (the child half-whooping at the