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PAGE AGRICULTURAL Labourer and his
Fiod, The BFR Scot Skirving . 387 American Laies, What the, did
during the Var, By Dr. R. Volz . 403
Thx son . .
Jeses Glaisher, F.R.S.
ker. Professor Plumptre : 107
197 Chap. XII.-A Comparison .217 English Demoniac, The. By Wm.
XIII.-Mattie'a Microcosm . 219 Gilbert
XIV.-The Jewess and her English Dialects: By J. W. Hales,
Neighbours . . . 220 M.A. . . . . . . .001
XV.-The Two Old Women. 226
XVI. On the River . .227 FENS, The. By the Rev. Charles
XVII.- Captain Boxall's ProKingsley.
posal . . . . 231 Field is the world, The. By c. J: 30 XVIII.-The Tempter . 289 Vaughan, D.D.
XIX.-How Tom spent the Fisher Life, the Round of ... : 673
Evening . . . 291
XX.-How Lucy spent the GARIBALDI'S Retreat from Rome,
Night . . .295 and the Last Month of Annitta. By
XXI.-More Shuffling .. 299 an Eye-witness . . . 493, 518
XXII.-A Coming Event .300 Grace's Fortune
XXIII.-Mattie's Illness . . 361 Chap. I.-Lovers' Vows . . 420
XXIV.-Fishing for a Daughter 363 11._" Pretty Doings for a
365 Half-Ruined Man" 426
XXVI.-The "Ningpo" is Lost 371 III-A Carpet Dance . . 429
XXVII.-Of Useful Odds and IV. After the Dance. . 430
Ends . . . 433 V. Stephen Summers. . 472 XXVIII.-Mattie in the Country. 435 VI.-A Bad Business. . 475
XXIX.- Poppie in Town . . 410 VII.A Drive to Blenheim . 476
XXX.-Mr. Fuller in his Church 441 VIII.- Penitence and Recon
XXXI.-A Dreary One . . 505 ciliation . . . 479 XXXII.-An Explosion : 507 IX.-Goody Fletcher . .482 XXXIII.-Down at Last .. 509
X.-Sir Ralph's Obstinacy. 485 XXXIV.-Mrs. Boxall and Mr. XI.-A Drive to Oxford .. 561
Stopper . . . 510 XII.-A Small Dinner l'arty 565 XXXV.-Mattie falls and rises XIII -A Letter from India - 567
again . . . 513 XIV.-Bearing the Trial . 570 XXXVI.-Business . . . 515
XV.-A Broken Heart .. 572 XXXVII.-Mr. Sargent Labours . 577 XVI. Mysterious Secrets . 574 XXXVIII.-How Thomas did and XVII.-Christmas at Rushing
fared . . . 578 ton. . . 631 XXXIX.-Poppie chooses a ProXVIII.--A Wedding . . . 633
fession . . 584 XIX.-Parting . . . 636
XL.-Thomas's Mother . 583 XX.-A Literary Aspirant , 639
XLI.-Lucy's New Trouble . 619 XXI.-Mother and son .. 642
XLII.--Mrs. Boxall finds a XXII.-Struck Down. . . 644
Companion in MisXXIII.-Bad News from the
fortune . . . 655 East . . . . 704
XLIII.- What Thomas was XXIV.-The New Baronet 705
about . . . 653 XXV.-Arnold's Love . . 708 XLIV.-Thomas returns to LonXXVI.-'Ihe Mistress of End
don . field .
XLV.-Thomas is captured .753 XXVII.-An Old Maid's History 716 XLVI.-The Confession
756 XXVIII.-A Reunion . . . 782
XLVII.- Thomas and Mr. StopXXIX.-At Oxford again. 784
per . . . . 759 XXX.-Reminiscences . . 786 XLVIII.-Thomas and his Father 760 XXXI.-A Proposal. . . 789
XLIX.-Thomas and his Mother 761 XXXII-An Unexpected Lega y 851
L. - Thomas and Lucy 793 XXXIII.-Old Wounds. .. 854
LI.-Jack of the "Ningpo” 795 XXXIV.-A Struggle and a Victory 856
LII.-Lucy, and Mattie, and XXXV.-Reconciled . . . 859
Poppie . . . XXXVI.--Two Weddings .. 861
LIII.-Molken on the Scent . 799 Great Pyramid, The, and Egyptian
LIV.Grannie appeals to
LV.-Guild Court again. . 804 nomer Royal tor Scotland 378, 444
LVI.--Wound up or run Guild Court. A London Story. By
down . . .
Rev. H. S. Fagan, M.A. . .
INDIA, From. By Marg ret Ellis . 550
Industrial Co-operation, On some New V.More about Guild Court
Forms of. By J. M. Ludlow. . 246 VI.-The Morning of Christ.
| mas Day . . . 81 JEWISH Domestic Economy. By the VII.- Poppie . . .145
Rev. H. T. Armfield, M.A. : 731 VIII.--Mr. Simon's Attempt. 148 Jews in Paris, The. By Wm. Gilbert 459 IX.-Business
. . 151 Journey in the Service of Science, A. X.-Mother and Daughter . 154 By the Rev. C. Pritchard, F.R.S. XI.-Mattie for Poppie . . 156 |
CASALS of Northern India, The. By
C. C. Scott Moncriefi
Wm. Gilbert . .
I boughts suggested by Doncaster
Difference, On. By the Duke of Cruier in the Moon, A. By J. Bir: Thunchani mi The
. .458 Creed ci Christendom, The
By the Rev. Professor
Mansel . . . . 131 II.-The Sonship of Christ. By
the Rev. Alexander
Raleigh, D.D. . . 201
Very Rev. Wm. Alex-
Wm. Hanna, D.D. : 497
By the Very Rev. the
Dean of Emly . . 532 VL The Second Coming. By
David Brown, D.D. . 599
the Holy Spirit. By W.
D.D. . . . . 776
By C. J. Vaughan, D.D. 830 IX.The Communion of Saints.
By C. J. Vaughan, D.D. 833
Imperfections, On the. By R. W.
Dale, M.A. . .
Study of Cornish Life. By the
duthor of " John Halifax" .
ander Strahan · · · · · 615
By Anthony Trollope .
M.D. . . . .
Lesson from Belgium. By the Rev.
H. T. Armfield, M.A. .
Anna H. Drury: .
Wynter, M.D. . . . . 160
1866. The. By the Rev.
Pritchard, F.R.S. .
Tulloch . . . .. :
Rev. H. W. Holland
. . 232 Chap. VII.-Jock Hall's Journey. 278
VIII.-Jock Hall's Return . 283
X.-Corporal Dick , 342
XI.-Corporal Dick at the
Manse . . . . 315
XII.-Dr. Scott and his
XIII.- Mr. Smellie's Diplo:
XIV.-The Sergeant's Sick:
ness and his Sick
Nurse . .
XV.-Mr. Porteous visits the
. .. 355
Summer Holidays. By R. w. Dale,
Swannery, A Visit to a. 'By' j. "*
. 417 McDowell . . . . . 189
. .314, 393 TIN-MINING in Cornwall, and its Tra-
. . . 171
UNHEALTHY Humour. By John Hol-
. . .310 Unjust Steward, i he. ' By j. m. Lud
Dale, M.A. . . . . . 627
Starling . . . 35 Mrs. Walker, Author of " Through
Macedunia" . . . . .821
Atmosphere of a. By the Rev. C.
Conspiraly .211 | Young Hero, A. By Dr. S. T. Hall. 59
. . 178
the Bush." By M. B. Smedley 321
. . 124
Rev. Professor Plumptre . . . 261
. . 663
Rev. H. R. Haweis . . . . 184
Brownlow. By Gerald Massey. . 373
Swedish. By W. Maccall.
Author of " John Halifax” . . 829
W. Parkinson . . . . . 205
English . . . . . . 277
Author of " John Halifax" : 159
Author of " John Halifax" . . 730
. . . 776
Abbey Church Dir
Grace's Fortune. Three Illustrations JJ. W. Lauson 421, 482,
. . T. Dalziel . . 58 View of Broussa . . . . . . . . . .028
278, 360 In the Choir .
65, 66, 67, 71 | Hindu Dancing Girls.
: . . .
. . . 553
88 The Car of the Temple at Seringham. . . . . 554
. W Small . . t 63
The Laplander and his Rein . . J. B. Zwecker . .680
. . From a Photograph 697
. . . . 723
F. Walher . .776
From a Photograph 808
The Solani Aqueduct
View from the Hôtel Loschi . . . . . . . 821
448, 449 Mosque of Murad I. . .
CHAPTER 1.—THE WALK TO THE COUNTING
| sweet, and profoundly high. But although Thomas
enjoyed the wind on his right cheek as he passed Is the month of November, not many years ago, the streets that opened into High Street, and al. 11 a young man was walking from Highbury to the though certain half sensations, balf sentiments
City. It was one of those grand mornings that awoke in him at its touch, his look was oftenest dawn only twice or thrice in the course of the year, down at his light trousers or his enamelled boots,
and are so independent of times and seasons that and never rose higher than the shop-windows. | November even comes in for its share. And it seemed As he turned into the churchyard to go eastward,
as if young Thomas Worboise had at his toilette felt he was joined by an acquaintance a few years older the influences of the weather, for he was dressed a than himself, whose path lay in the same direction. trifle more gaily than was altogether suitable for the “Jolly morning, aint it, Tom?” said he. old age of the year. Neither however did he appear “Ye-es," answered Thomas, with something of a in harmony with the tone of the morning, which fashionable drawl, and in the doubtful tone of one was something as much beyond the significance of who will be careful how he either praises or conhis costume, as the great arches of a cathedral up- demns anything. “Ye-es. It almost makes one heaving a weight of prayer from its shadowed heart | feel young again.” towards the shadowless heavens are beyond the “Ha, ha, ha! How long is it since you enjoyed petty gorgeousness of the needlework that adorns the pleasing sensation last?” the vain garments of its priesthood. It was a lofty 1 “None of your chaff, now, Charles.” blue sky, with multitudes of great clouds half-way “Well, upon my word, if you don't like chaff, between it and the earth, amongst which as well as you put yourself at the wrong end of the winalong the streets a glad west wind was revelling. power.” There was nothing much for it to do in the woods “I never read the Georgics." ww, and it took to making merry in the clouds “Yes, I know I was born in the country-a clod. aoi the streets. And so the whole heaven was full hopper, no doubt, but I can afford to stand your o church-windows. Every now and then a great chaff, for I feel as young as the day I was born. If bore in the cloudy mass would shoot a sloped you were a fast fellow, now, I shouldn't wonder ; cylinder of sunrays earthwards, like an eye that but for one like you that teaches in the Sunday 887 in virtue of the light it shed itself upon the School and all that, I am ashamed of you, talking object of its regard. Gray billows of vapour with like that. Confess now, you don't believe a word Fanny heads tossed about in the air, an ocean for of what you cram the goslings with.” angelic sport, only that the angels could not like “Charles, you may make game of me as you like, sport in which there was positively no danger. but I won't let you say a word agaiust religion in Where the sky shone through it looked awfully my presence. You may despise me if you like, and think it very spoony of me to teach in the Sunday about your trowsers I was talking. It was about School, but-well, you know well enough what I my own." mean.'
“I see nothing particular about yours." “I can guess at it, old fellow. Come, come, “That's because I'm neither glad nor sorry." don't think to humbug me. You know as well as “What do you mean?” I do that you don't believe a word of it. I don't! “Now you come to the point. · That's just what mean you want to cheat me or anyone else. I | I wanted to come to myself, only you wouldn't let believe you're above that. But you do cheat your me. You kept shying like a half-broke filly." self. What's the good of it all when you don't feel “Come now, Charles, you know nothing about half as merry as I do on a bright morning like this ? horses, I am very sure.” I never trouble my head about that rubbish. Here Charles Wither smiled, and took no other notice am I as happy as I care to be—for to-day at least, of the asseveration. and sufficient unto the day, you know."
| “What I mean is this," he said, “that when I Thomas might have replied, had he been capable am in a serious, dull-gray, foggy mood, you knowof so replying, that although the evil is sufficient not like this sky__" for the day, the good may not be. But he said But when he looked up, the sky was indeed one something very different, although with a solemnity | mass of leaden gray. The glory of the unconfit for an archbishop.
ditioned had yielded to the bonds of November, and "There's a day coming, Charles, when the evil -Ichabod. will be more than sufficient. I want to save my "Well,” Charles resumed, looking down again, soul. You have a soul to save too."
“I mean just like this same sky over St. Luke's "Possibly," answered Charles, with more care Workhouse here. Lord ! I wonder if St. Luke ever lessness than he felt; for he could not help being knew what kind of thing he'd give his medical struck with the sententiousness of Thomas's reply, name to! When I feel like that, I never dream of if not with the meaning contained in it. As he was putting on lavender trowsers, you know, Tom, my not devoid of reverence, however, and had been boy. So I can't understand you, you know. I spurred on to say what he had said more from the only put on such-like-I never had such a stunning sense of an undefined incongruity between Thomas's pair as those - when I go to Richmond, or- " habits, talk included, and the impression his general “Of a Sunday, I believe,” said Worboise, nettled. individuality made upon him, than from any wish “Of a Sunday. Just so. The better day, the to cry down the creed in which he took no practical | better deed, you know, as people say; though, I interest, he went no further in the direction in dare say, you don't think it." which the conversation was leading. He doubled. “When the deed is good, the day makes it
"If your soul be safe, Tom, why should you be better. When the deed is bad, the day makes it so gloomy ?"
worse," said Tom, with a mixture of reproof and "Are there no souls to save but mine? There's | “high sentence,” which was just pure nonsense. yours now."
How much of Thomas's depression was real, and “Is that why you put on your shiny trot-boxes, | how much was put on-I do not meau outwardly and your lavender trowsers, old fellow? Come, put on without being inwardly assumed-in order don't be stuck up. I can't stand it.”
that he might flatter himself with being in close “As you please, Charles : I love you too much to sympathy and harmony with Lord Byron, a volume mind your making game of me.”
of whose poems was at the time affecting the “Come now," said Charles Wither, “speak right symmetry of his handsome blue frock-coat, by out as I am doing to you. You seem to know pulling down one tail more than the other, and something I don't. If you would only speak right bumping against bis leg every step he took-I out, who knows if you mightn't convert me, and cannot exactly tell. At all events, the young man save my soul too that you make such a fuss about. was-like most inen, young and old-under conFor my part, I haven't found out that I have a soul flicting influences ; and these influences he had not yet. What am I to do with it before I know I've yet begun to harmonize in any definite result. got it? But that's not the point. It's the trowsers. By the time they reached Bunbill Fields, they When I feel miserable about myself— "
were in a gray fog; and before they got to the “ Nonsense, Charles ! you never do."
counting-house, it had grown very thick. Through “But I do, though. I want something I haven't its reddish mass the gas-lights shone with the cold got often enough. And, for the life of me, I don't brilliance of pale gold. know what it is. Sometimes I think it's a wife. The scene of their daily labour was not one of Sometimes I think it's freedom to do whatever I those grand rooms with plate-glass windows, which please. Sometimes I think it's a bottle of claret and now seem to be considered, if not absolutely necesa jolly good laugh. But to return to the trowsers." sary to commercial respectability, yet a not alto
“Now leave my trowsers alone. It's quite dis-gether despicable means of arriving at such. It was gusting to treat serious things after such a fashion,” | a rather long, rather narrow, rather low, but this
“I didn't know trowsers were serious things - morning not so dark room as usual—for the whole except to old grandfather Adam. But it's not force of gas-burners was in active operation. In