my very face-me-who know a thing or two-may I be shrivelled up to a tobacco-leaf, turned into a cigar, and be smoked into annihilation by a linendraper's shopboy. I took my change out of her last night," and he then explained the deception.

"And you love-you loved her?"

"Yes, confoundedly."

"And me-"

"You, Jack—as a sailor loves his ship."

"Very well, I will go to her now.

Good morning."

At this very time, Miss Macfarlane was in private and deep consultation with her solicitor, upon a copy of her father's will. Twice had Mr. Dobson, with a slow and sonorous voice, the lady looking over his shoulder in the mean time, read the following clause:

And, although by this instrument I intend that my dearly-beloved and dutiful daughter, Mary Macfarlane, shall be considered to be of age, when she shall have attained the birthday of her twenty and first year; and that then her guardians and her trustees shall account to her, or to her attorney, duly authorized, as to all money or goods, &c. &c. &c.'"

"You may skip all that, Mr. Dobson."

"Very important," muttered the lawyer, reading about a page and a half of repetitions and technicalities, as a sort of private treat to himself, until he arrived at the principal proviso. "Whereas, my daughter Mary may be, peradventure, led astray from the flock of the faithful, should she contract a marriage within the first year of her majority without the consent of my pious and beloved nephew, Phineas Macfarlane, she shall forfeit one whole and undivided moiety of the benefit that she, the said Mary Macfarlane, would otherwise take under this will. Moreover, should she contract a marriage within two years of her majority, she shall, in like manner, forfeit one-third of the said &c. &c.; and if within four years, one-fourth, &c. &c.'"

"Very arbitrary," sighed out Miss Macfarlane; "could not my dear father have trusted me?"

"Probably, madam, thought you too young," snuffled out the attorney, who, taking a pinch of snuff, and drawing a long breath, hung with delight over the word "moreover," as he proceeded in his reading as follows:

"Moreover, though at the age of twenty-five, should my daughter still have remained unmarried, she shall be considered as fully entitled to the enjoyment of all the benefit bequeathed to her in this instrument, and the power of objection on the part of Phineas Macfarlane shall cease and determine; yet, should the said Phineas Macfarlane be fully assured, convinced, and be made certain that my daughter Mary, shall have at any time backslided-""

"Backslided! good gracious me! Mr. Dobson, what does that mean?" "Backslided-it is not a legal term-backslided— the said Phineas Macfarlane shall appropriate for goodly and godly purposes, any portion of these my estates, real and personal, as may seem good unto him, always reserving for the use of my daughter such a provision as shall decently support her in the comforts, though not in the luxuries of life.'" "Well, I am really confounded! I now see a clue to the insolence of my cousin. It would seem that he has been constituted as a complete spy over my actions. But what is backsliding?"

"As I said before, madam, backslide is not a legal term. In courts of law, when there is a doubt upon the exact meaning of a word, and the bench and the bar cannot hit it, they have recourse to Dr. Johnson's dictionary."

"Then," said the lady, with great animation, "let us follow the example of the bench and the bar."

"You cannot do better," said Mr. Dobson, very seriously and solemnly. The folio was procured, and the word immediately found, when its meaning was thus expressed: "Backslide, v. n. from back and slide, to fall off, to apostatize, a word only used by divines."

"There," said Mr. Dobson, triumphantly; it is not a legal word; therefore, this is not a legal instrument. The lawyer who drew up this will should be struck off the rolls,-I could drive a coach and horses through it, your cousin can take no benefit under this instrument."

"He begs your pardon," said Phineas Macfarlane, who had been at least two minutes in the room unnoticed. "Miss Macfarlane bas already backslided; for the last three Sundays she has backslided, for she was seen praying at the steeple-house."

"Steeple-house! what's that? not legal."

"He means the church of England, Mr. Dobson."

"Why, Mr. Macfarlane, do you call that backsliding? really it is sliding back into the right way,-into the way of the church, as by law established,- —see the various acts of parliament on the subject. So you mean to attempt to act under this will?"

"I do, unless Miss Macfarlane assents to some propositions I have many months since made to her."

"Never, Phineas Macfarlane," said the young lady with wonderful

energy.

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Very well, madam; you will take the consequences."

"As this is a family dispute," said Mr. Dobson, rising, "I will take my departure. I will only observe, that this will is a most ridiculous document a bad instrument-it is worth nothing but to make a good lawsuit. Mr. Macfarlane, as your friend, I tell you that you have not a shadow of right under it; but still, if you are inclined to go to law upon the subject, God forbid that I, as a professional man, should attempt to dissuade you from it."

Thus saying, Mr. Dobson took himself off with his blue bag, in the full satisfaction of his heart, of having conscientiously done his duty, and with the consoling prospect of an everlasting suit at law, that seemed destined to dance through all the courts, ecclesiastical as well as civil.

The interview between the relations was long and painful. The alternation offered by Phineas, cannot be doubted. It was the right of naming her husband, or the vexatious lawsuit. He was no fool; he essayed every argument with which his position and his knowledge of the world furnished him.

He had even recourse to defiance, and ended his tirade by scornfully exclaiming," And then, pray madam, what will you do?"

"What will I do, sir, cousin of mine," said the lady, roused to all the energy of a dignified resistance. "This will I do, and that instantly: I will shame you from the society of all good men.-You put me into extremes, that a maidenly woman might, perhaps ought, under other circumstances, to shrink from; I will discover some honourable, just man -I will betroth myself to him-I will not marry him, sir, till I am five

and-twenty-you shall take no benefit by that-if he loves me, as I think that I deserve to be loved, he will gladly wait. Thus will I free myself from your detested set; his advice will strengthen me, his love will support me, his friends shall countenance me, his interest shall protect me." "There is no such man!" said Phineas, with a smile, truly sardonic. "There is, sir," said Mary, vehemently, carried away by her sense of injuries and her enthusiasm. "One young, beautiful, accomplished, talented: no petty, shuffling, shopkeeper, but one of nature's, and of his country's aristocracy.-And though I ought not, had I not been plagued with a cousin guardian, to have heeded it, one blessed pre-eminently with fortune's gifts-in a word, one that no man could refuse to admire -no woman to love; because,-sir, because-he is totally unlike you.” At this period of her burst of indignation, the servant announced Mr. John Ward. "Heaven is propitious! Pray beg him to walk up." Then turning to her cousin, when the servant had disappeared, she continued," He is here; you shall see him, and tremble and despair."

The door opens, and never did three persons start with more unaffected surprise. The lady first recovered herself, and advancing to Ward, took hold of both his hands, and exclaimed, "My dear sir, is this a masquerade?" "Never, madam," said John, "was dress more appropriate. I am mortified to tell you that Mr. Haldrum deceived you most unaccountably-I am neither more nor less than I seem, the first mate of the Thomas and Nancy West-Indiaman, and one of the poorest of mates also. I am here to apologize for my friend, if his conduct will admit of apology, to show myself in my true colours, and then to take my leave for ever of a presence I ought not to have obtruded upon."

Phineas had been gradually nursing up his mirth, until it at length burst forth into a most discordant and triumphant laugh; which was no little increased by observing how much his cousin was shocked and pained. "That," said he, giving vent to his brutal joy," is the champion, the gentleman of noble blood, of high connexions, of great talents, and of vast fortune-a filthy tar-jacket!" and Phineas snuffed up his dismantled nose with ineffable scorn.

Now, it must be confessed, that John Ward had carried his magnanimity rather to an unsightly extreme, in getting his handsome person into the worst sea-going dress that he possessed; but his motive was good, to undeceive the lady most effectually.

"A filthy tar-jacket!" repeated Ward, assuming more than a patrician dignity. "Do you mean me, sir?-Madam, though I am humble and poor, I trust that you do not authorize this insult? I come to you with an honest and an honourable purpose."

"And I honour you for it, Mr. Ward. Act with that person according to your discretion."

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May I rid you of his presence?" said Ward, making the lady a low bow. "In any manner that you may think fit," said the lady, making him an obeisance still lower, and at the same time bursting into tears; for her little heart could hold out no longer, torn as it was by conflicting emotions. "By the salt sea!" said John, in a glowing passion, "the canting rascal must have insulted you!"

Phineas had prudently removed towards the door; but he was not quick enough to prevent himself being kicked down stairs; and Miss MacfarJane, by an unaccountable forgetfulness, did not ring the bell until she had heard the street-door open and close; she then bade the servant

tell Ward not to do her cousin any injury, and to beg to see him for a few minutes before he departed. At this interview the aunt was very properly present; but it did not prevent her, under her excitement, from confiding her exact situation to John Ward. This communication decided the fate of both; we are sorry that it turned out so little romantic; but it proved an eminently happy one.

John Ward returned to his friend Haldrum a totally different personhe explained his motive for going in his shabby sea-dress, and got goodhumouredly objurgated for it.

"Well," said John, " don't swear so awfully at the rigging, I shall put it over my mast-head no more; I have done with the sea for ever. I suppose that you'll cut me now, Hal, I am going to turn lawyer's clerk; I shall article myself to my crabbed old uncle to-morrow."

"Your reasons, Jack-your most excellent reasons?"

He told them, and the wholesale tobacconist, and the half man of fashion had the good sense to approve of them.

It was a great sacrifice; and, in this world of mean doings, and still meaner motives, almost a sublime one. He toiled fourteen hours a day, in a dirty office-he laboured as one who had an exceeding great reward before him, and he was worthy of it.

Phineas Macfarlane went to law upon the trust of the will. It is now seven years since the suit began, and six years since Phineas was completely ruined. Phineas would have dropped the matter some time ago, but the lawyers will not permit it. His name is still used, though he may be seen on fine days, when he is not wanted, sweeping the crossing opposite the largest chapel of the seceders in this metropolis. A humane Lord Chancellor had reserved seven hundreds per annum for the care and maintenance, during the suit, of Mary Macfarlane, in a manner that it could not be touched. The cause is still a good and a fat cause, for all concerned in it, except the principals. Mr. Dobson has grown immensely rich.

The day after Mary Macfarlane attained her twenty-fifth year she intermarried with John Ward, gent., &c., who has become an active partner in the firm of Dobson and Co., and thus as Mary's estate bleeds under the lancet of litigation, no small quantity of the spoils find their way back to her, as her husband is very actively assisting at the operation-under the name of his partner; thus, he is not over solicitous of getting the bills taxed that are brought against him in re Phineas Macfarlane versus Ward, and vice versa; for it is some time since cross suits were commenced, besides three or four collateral actions on the same subject.

However, John Ward and his wife are quite as rich and as happy as they deserve to be, and Haldrum allows that his old shipmate understands milling better than he does; for he has a standing joke about it that he generally mars in the delivery, he having only broken Phineas's nose, while Jack put it out of joint; but he has never been able to make the jest tell with any thing like effect.

As to Phineas, he ascribes all his misfortunes to his nasal disfigurement, as before that he had some hopes of the lady; but he should go back a step farther, and remember his attempts, under the mask of sanctity, to defraud an unsuspecting customer of ten shillings.

THE WIDOW MARRIED.*

BY MRS. TROLLOPE.

CHAP. XIII.

A SATISFACTORY DISCLOSURE, AND A JUDICIOUS PROPOSAL-A CONJUGAL TETE-A-TETE TERMINATING IN VERY AMIABLE RESOLUTIONS.

"It is quite bed-time mamma, is it not?" said Elizabeth Hubert as the door closed after the O'Donagough family. "I am very, very sleepy!"

"Good night, my dear," replied her mother, holding up her face to receive the farewell salute.

"Good night, papa," said Elizabeth, passing on to her father. But before he accepted the kiss offered to him, he detained her by the hand for a moment, saying,

"What makes you look so very weary to-night, my dear girl? Have you walked more than usual to-day?"

"No, papa. We have walked very little to-day," replied the young lady.

"What is the matter then, dearest? You do not feel unwell, I hope. Do you?"

Elizabeth stopped short in the middle of a yawn to laugh. "Oh! no, papa! Pray do not send for the doctor! I feel perfectly well, only very sleepy."

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Perhaps you are tired of talking, Elizabeth? You and your young cousin have had time for a great deal of conversation. Did she tell you much about New South Wales?" demanded her father.

Elizabeth shook her head as she replied, "No, not a word." "What then did you talk about?" asked the general. Elizabeth again laughed, and again shook her head.

"Is that shake of the head to be considered as oracular as that of my Lord Burleigh? Does it mean a very great deal," said her father.

"It means, papa, that I really and truly do not know what she talked about," replied Elizabeth.

"That is to say, you forget it. I presume, my dear, that when the discourse was going on, you knew of what subject, or subjects, it

treated ?"

"No, indeed papa, I did not," was the quick reply. "My cousin said a great many things altogether, I believe, but I quite mean that I do not know what they were all about. I did not always understand her."

"Did you find her upon the whole an agreeable companion, Elizabeth?"

In reply to this direct inquiry, Miss Hubert, after hanging down her head a little and looking for a minute or two rather embarrassed, replied, "No, papa, I did not; and I do not think that my cousin Martha found me an agreeable companion either. Nor do I believe that we shall ever be very great friends."

Coutinued from No. ccxxiv., page 480.