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will now, he had intended to tell his landlord the real state of the case, and soothe him with the promise of being able to answer his demand in a few days; but the estimate Grainger appeared to have formed with*respect to Williams' responsibility made this rather a hopeless expedient. '"You have called for your rent, I suppose, Mr Grainger?" at length said Mr Lisle, clearing his throat, seeing that the landlord made no move towards resuming his seat, but stood sturdily with his hat in his hand betwixt the table and the door.
"In course I have, sir," replied Grainger, as if he thought the question wholly superfluous. "It's a week past the time you
appointed, and I want to go to S with the money in my
"I'm really very sorry, Grainger," began Mr Lisle, whilst poor Sophia's cheeks turned crimson, and her eyes filled with tears;
"You're not a-going to put me off again, are yc-u 1" exclaimed Grainger in an angry tone.
"Only for a few days," said Mr Lisle. "I'm sure of money in a few days."
"So you said before," roughly answered Grainger. "Besides, sir, I want my money to go to market with, and I must have it." "But I can't give it you, Mr Grainger," replied Mr Lisle. "Be reasonable; a very few days now must see me out of my difficulties, and the moment I get the money—in short, to be plain with you, don't mention it, and I promise yours shall be the very first debt I pay; but the very moment the breath is out of old
Patty Wise's body"
"Stop, sir!" said Mr Grainger, setting his arms akimbo; "do you mean to tell me as that's all you've got to look to to pay me my year and half's rent?"
"I've got a bond from Williams for seventeen hundred pounds, with five per cent, interest on it," replied Lisle; "to be paid on the very day he touches the old woman's legacy."
"Light the fire with it!" answered the landlord roughly; "it's
all the use it'll ever be. Seventeen hundred pounds!—seventeen
hundred rotten eggs! Why, don't you know that afore Miss
Patty lost her intellects, when she found from Dr Ramsay that
she was really going, she sent for Williams and told him that, as
she knew very well that he'd bring her niece to the workhouse if
she gave him any power over the money, she had taken care to
tie it up so that he could never touch a shilling of it?"
"She did!" cried Mr Lisle, starting from his seat.
"To be sure she did!" answered Grainger; "and what's more,
Williams took the hint and vanished, without ever coming back
here to say good-by to anybody. He's across the water by this
time, and there's an execution in the house. I saw the officers
there just now as I came past."
We have not space, neither can it be necessary, to paint the despair of the unhappy Lisle. Not only all the money he had was gone, but more than he had, for he had been obliged to borrow five hundred pounds to answer the last bill he had given to Williams. His creditors were pressing, for his situation was soon whispered abroad; and those who would have waited patiently whilst he was prosperous, soon took the alarm when they heard of his distress. He was made a bankrupt. His poor wife was obliged to leave her comfortable house—at a time, too, that she most needed its conveniences: his eldest little girl, whom he had just placed at a respectable boarding-school, was brought home to assist her mother in taking care of the younger children. His life's labour was lost—worse than lost, for he had to begin the world again with a stigma, if not upon his honesty, certainly upon his prudence and good sense. And all this misery arose from his not perceiving that every individual in the world is bound to provide for the responsibilities he has himself incurred, before he assists others to answer theirs; from his weakly yielding to the importunities of one who had no claim on him, and whose previous want of foresight, duly considered, held out little promise for the future, without reflecting on the paramount claims not only of his own creditors, but of the wife he had undertaken to maintain, and of the children of whose being he was the author, and for whose welfare and education, as far as in him lay, he was answerable to the Almighty; and from his not perceiving that it is dishonesty, and not liberality, to give that which we cannot afford, and which, if every one had their own, would not be ours to give; and that people's success in business does not depend upon their being good-natured or kindhearted, but upon their conducting their affairs with steady prudence and a conscientious regard to all their engagements— dangerous and dazzling fallacies, which have ruined many a well-intentioned man, who might have gone happily and prosperously through the world on the simple but comprehensive maxim—" Be Just Before You Are Generous."
PRAYERS FOR ALL MEN.
Y daughter, go and pray! See, night is come:
Trembles the misty outline of the hill.
Shakes in the wind its dust-strewn branches still.
Day is for evil, weariness, and pain.
Let us to prayer! calm night is come again:
The wind among the ruined towers so bare
Longing for peace, for slumber, and for prayer.
It is the hour when babes with angels speak. •
While we are rushing to our pleasures weak
And sinful, all young children, with bent knees, Eyes raised to Heaven, and small hands folded fair, Say at the self-same hour the self-same prayer
On our behalf, to Him who all things sees. No. 135. * l
And then they sleep. Oh peaceful cradle-sleep!
Of love, not fear, in happiness expressed!
Its head beneath its wing, and sinks to rest.
Pray thou for all who living tread
Upon this earth of graves;
Among the winds and waves:
Or swiftness of a horse;
Or on their heavenward course.
Pray thou for him who nightly sins
Until the day dawns bright—
His dance and banquet light;
Their prayers at twilight dim;
God also heareth him.
Child! pray for all the poor beside;
The prisoner in his cell,
With crime and misery dwell;
Thy prayer forgiveness draw.
A REASSURING PROSPECT.
All is light and all is joy.
The dragon-fly on fluttering wings,
The full-blown rose, grown young again,
He blesses God, who ne'er is hid
In woods that soften every sound,
The moon, all pale in sunlit skies,
A cheerful convalescent seems;
And opens soft her opal eyes,*
Whence heaven's sweetness downward streams.
The wallflower with the gamesome bee
All lives and sits around with grace—
On joyful plains bright sun-rays fall,
There is an unknown language spoken
By the dark storm-clouds, thunder-broken,