heart, as well as to improve the understanding of her pupil. Mrs. Stanley was too much engaged in fashionable life to interfere with the system of instruction adopted by the governess, and the daughter was preserved from the taint of her mother's example by the latter's reluctance to "bring her out," because she feared a rival claimant for that admiration which she was still eager to attract. Much as Mrs. Stanley was gratified by the distinction which her splendid parties procured for her, she was occasionally subjected to severe mortifications, and often painfully reminded of the humble sphere in which she and her parents had previously moved. Among her relations there was one who happened to be a tailor, and who, to her horror, had the honour of being her first cousin, and bearing the family name. Had he kept a chandler's shop he might have been designated a provision merchant; or if a cheesemonger, he might have been called a bacon factor; but a tailor is a tailor all the world over, and there is no synonyme in our vocabulary by which to dignify the calling. Her dread of being associated in any way with this industrious member of a most useful trade was said to have exhibited itself in the most ridiculous manner. A vegetable, vulgarly supposed to be symbolical of the sartorial art, was never permitted to appear on her table, lest its presence should prove suggestive to her fashionable guests. Nay, it was even insinuated that no other reason could be assigned for the stopping up of a side window in the house than the fact of its commanding a view of a cutler's, who, by way of a sign, had placed a colossal pair of shears above his door. But Cousin Tomkins, the tailor, was as little ambitious of contact with his fair and proud relative as she could be anxious to avoid him. He was a sturdy and independent spirited man, who had too much good sense to be ashamed of a calling by which he was not only gaining a livelihood, but accumulating wealth, He was, moreover, better informed than the generality of his class, for he had studied other pages than his pattern-book, and, above all, was well read in that volume, compared with which the wisdom of the most subtle philosophy is foolishness and vanity. Never, but on a single occasion, and that an urgent one, did Tomkins intrude himself on the presence of his fashionable cousin, whose contemptuous civility gave him little inducement to repeat the visit. Stung by a style of treatment from which common decency, if not his relationship, should have protected him, he was hurrying back through | the lacquey-lined hall when his progress was arrested by a fair blue-eyed girl, of about six years old, who, looking up in his face with an innocent smile, accosted him by the appellation of cousin, and, thrusting a little bunch of violets into his hand, dismissed him at the door with a laughing "good-bye." It was little Clara Stanley, whom some of the servants, probably in sport, had informed of the visitor's relationship; and whose mother took occasion, on being told of the circumstance, severely to reprehend for the familiarity of which she had been guilty. Children, however, are sorry casuists, and Mrs. Stanley's eloquence utterly failed in convincing Clara that there was less impropriety in romping with her cousin the guardsman than in shaking hands with cousin Tomkins, the tailor. Tomkins was much affected by the child's behaviour, and on reaching home he placed the faded violets between the leaves of his Bible, that he might be daily reminded of the incident, and learn to forgive the unkindness of the parent for the sake of the innocence of the child. But time passed on: the girl began to grow into the woman, and the work of education drew to a close. Her preceptress, in resigning her charge, had the consolation of feeling that, though the temptations to which her pupil was about to be exposed were many and strong, she was protected against their power by her humble dependence upon God. Her taste, moreover, had not been corrupted to relish the dissipations of fashionable life. An authority, to which her piety as well as filial affection taught her to yield obedience, forced her occasionally into the ball-room; but as love of display had no place in her bosom, the scene had little charms for her, and she had discrimination enough to perceive that it was not, even to those who most frequented and most lauded it, the Elysium which they would have it be accounted. Having no taste for the gaieties of "society," her harp, her pencil, and her books were the sources on which she drew for recreation. Of books, whilst loving her Bible as the best, she was not one of those who cannot distinguish between a trashy novel and the pages illumined by the genius of Mackenzie, of Scott, and of Irving. Gifted as she was, too, in personal attractions, enhanced by a grace of manner which Nature needs not the aid of the dancing-master to confer, it will not be matter of surprise that she had many admirers; the wiser portion of whom were as much enchanted by the accomplishments and virtues of her mind as by the beauty of her person. Among them was a gentleman who was a frequent guest at the table of her father. The younger son of a respectable family, he had been educated for one of the learned professions, and by his amiable manners and brilliant talents had rendered himself a general favourite. Upon his enthusiastic and poetical temperament the beauty and virtues of Clara were calculated to make a powerful impression, which every hour passed in her company tended to deepen. Ardent, however, as were his feelings, they were under the control of a well-regulated mind. He was awakened from the Elysian dream which Clara had inspired by the reflection that, situated as he was, straitened in circumstances, and dependent entirely on his success in his profession, the object of his passion could not honourably be pursued. With a self-denial rarely evinced upon similar occasions, he withdrew himself from the magic circle ere its enchantment became too strong for him, and suddenly, at the hazard of much misinterpretation, ceased to be a guest at Mr. | Stanley's. The subject of this sketch was not fitted for the heroine of a romance, and the early years of her life passed away unmarked by any occurrence worthy of note. At the age of eighteen, however, she was deprived of both her parents, who died within a few months of each other. Mr. Stanley had never been a provident man, and his affairs were found at his decease in such a state that it required the sacrifice of all he had left, even to the furniture of his house, to satisfy the demands of his creditors. The morning appointed for the sale arrived, and Clara retired to an apartment remote from the bustle of preparation. Sorrow for the loss of an affectionate parent was weighing heavily upon her heart, nor was the reflection that she must, in a few hours, quit the home of her childhood, to wander forth she knew not whither, calculated to lighten her grief. Of the many who were wont, with smiling faces and flattering tongues, to flock to the splendid entertainments which her mother delighted to give, there was not one to offer a word of comfort. Her prospect was, indeed, a desolate one: there appeared not a blossom to gladden her path, nor a tree to shelter her from the coming storm. But her view was not confined to earth; she turned upwards, with the eye of faith, to that beneficent God whom she had served in her prosperity, and who she felt would not desert her in the day of her trouble. ances-they were once deemed friends of Mr. Stanley. Some were attracted by the amiable desire of witnessing the wreck of a prosperity they had envied; others by the hope of securing at a cheap rate some article of furniture, bijouterie, or art, which they had admired in the lifetime of its late proprietor. A few of the relatives of Mr. Stanley were gathered in a circle in one of the rooms, who, after clubbing their pity for the forlorn and destitute situation of his daughter, proceeded to speculate upon the manner in which she could dispose of herself. One recommended that she should enter some family as governess; another suggested the more eligible situation of companion to an elderly lady; while a third, who had heard of Clara having been once detected in making up some article of her own dress, alluded to her qualifications as an attendant on some young ladies, in the enviable capacity of half milliner and half maid. During this discussion the attention of the group was attracted by the entrance of an elderly personage, in exceedingly plain but respectable attire. He contrived to insinuate himself into the midst of the conclave, and was an attentive listener to their conversation. Having heard the various propositions for the future provision of the orphan, he somewhat abruptly exclaimed, "But while the grass grows, the steed starves: surely there must be some of poor Mr. Stanley's friends who are both able and willing to afford his daughter the protection of their roof, until she can be in some measure provided for." His remark was evidently not much to the taste of his auditors, who, however, expressed the great pleasure they would have had in offering her an asylum; but, unfortunately, not one of them was at that particular juncture in a position to do so: the residence of one was under repair; the spare bed-room of another was occupied by a friend from the country; while a third had the scarlet fever in the house, and would never forgive himself if the "dear girl" should catch the disease. A smile of peculiar significance played on the lip of the elderly stranger as he listened to their various evasions, and perceiving that they eyed him with a look of inquiry, he drew from his pocket a silver snuff-box of extraordinary dimensions, and tapping the side of it for some seconds before he opened it, afforded them an opportunity of observing the device upon the lid, representing a cabbage supported by a pair of extended shears.1 In the meantime, the preliminary arrangements for the sale were in progress: the rooms were thronged with company, of which no inconsiderable portion consisted of the acquaint-prietor. This is no fiction; the author has frequently seen the snuff-box in the possession of its respectable pro The reader will have no difficulty in guessing that the stranger was our friend Tomkins, the tailor, who, among other peculiarities, had adopted this method of showing that he was not ashamed of his calling. Some years had passed over his head since the affair of the nosegay, and they had been marked by progressive prosperity, the reward of honest and unflagging industry. Mr. Tomkins, with an obsequious bow to the group, quitted the room; and having inquired of a servant if Miss Stanley was in the house, sent his respects, and requested permission to wait upon her. His request was granted, and he was at once introduced to the apartment to which Clara had retreated. She was habited in deep mourning; yet notwithstanding the lapse of time, and the change which sorrow produces upon the countenance, he recognized in the faint smile with which she requested him to be seated, the expression that had so won upon him on the only occasion on which he had seen her when a child. at being introduced to a spacious house in the Adelphi, to which Mr. Tomkins welcomed her with unaffected cordiality. She was shown to her chamber by an elderly female, who acted in the joint capacity of housekeeper and cook, and who, having intimated to her that she would find her breakfast prepared in the adjoining apartment on the following morning, withdrew, leaving Clara to reflect on the occurrences of the last few hours, and to return thanks to the Almighty Being who had thus unexpectedly raised her up a friend in her distress. Next morning she rose early, as was her wont, and passed into the room which had been pointed out by her attendant. It was spacious, and commanded a view of the Thames. Conceive the measure of her surprise when, on looking around, she found that her own harp and bookcase, with its contents, had, through the generosity of her benefactor, been added to the furniture. Clara had too much activity and independNow Mr. Tomkins, although not a man of ence of mind to sit calmly down and eat the polished deportment, possessed delicacy of feel- bread of idleness. Her first object, therefore, ing, which is not the necessary concomitant of was to turn her talents to account by obtaining refinement of manners. He came to condole some private pupils, whom she could attend at with the fair orphan on her bereavement, and their own houses; and to this end she deterto offer his assistance; but he was embarrassed mined to apply to a gentleman who had been in his endeavours to do so without wounding a frequent guest of her father, and whose acher feelings. He mentioned that he had heard quaintance, from his connection with the pubthe sale had been somewhat unnecessarily pre-lic press, was extensive. He was a native of cipitated, and much he feared to her temporary inconvenience; that supposing, therefore, she might not yet have fixed upon a residence, he had taken the liberty of calling to say that he had rooms in his house which were entirely at her service, until she could provide herself with more suitable apartments. He concluded by saying that he trusted his gray hairs, his character, and, he might add, his relationship, were sufficient warrants for the propriety of his invitation. With the warmth which belonged to her character, Clara expressed her gratitude for the generous offer, and the delicacy with which it was made; and, in frankly accepting it, she confessed that she did not know where else to find a shelter for the coming night. While she was packing the few things which her father's creditors had permitted her to retain, Mr. Tomkins proceeded to procure a coach, to which, after he had whispered a few words in the ear of the auctioneer, he conducted Clara, and they drove off. Having probably anticipated that their journey would terminate in some obscure and gloomy part of the metro polis, she was agreeably surprised on alighting the Green Isle, and possessed talents of no common order united to a caustic humour that, sparing neither friend nor foe, detracted very much from the value of his society, which, when he could resist his propensity to satire, was amusing and instructive in the highest degree. Under much, however, that was rude and even stern in his manner, there were concealed a kindness and generosity which Clara had on more than one occasion discovered, and this emboldened her to solicit his aid. In his reception of her the Irishman completely overcame the cynic. He informed her that he had called at her late father's residence on the preceding day, and was much disappointed on finding that she had quitted it a few hours before. He entered with such interest into her scheme, and followed it up by such strenuous exertions among his friends, that in a very few weeks Clara had no reason to complain of a dearth of pupils or occupation. The interim of leisure she devoted to drawing, in which she excelled, and, when she had finished half-a-dozen subjects, she took them to the shop of a celebrated dealer in works of art, to offer them for sale. She requested an |