jeering at our want of business knowledge-never offering to make up any small deficiency-never regarding my mother's ill health. He used, however, to praise my diligence, that cost him nothing, and my mother was cheered by his promises to take me as an articled clerk. 'It is only your Uncle's manner, my dear,' she would say to me, when I was angry at his unkind remarks,—but I was not to be so easily convinced; and the tears which stood in her eyes were a sad denial of her words.

"Occasionally, I encountered old school-fellows; some from college, some already entering upon the business of life with bright prospects, cheerful homes, after labour all the relaxations of society. I was not in circumstances to associate with them. I was too proud to do so, except on terms of equality, yet I liked to meet them sometimes—it might be in the street, or in business at the office. I was fascinated with their gay easy talk; I used to catch with envy at their matter-ofcourse-allusions to the balls and parties they had been at. I was eager to join in their gaiety, but I thrust the desire deep into my heart, and there it seethed. I was too proud to ask favours of Uncle Corley-too proud to express my regrets.

"People thought me a strange lad, they wondered at the unremitting zeal with which I laboured-at my apparent carelessness for the amusements of youth. They little knew the mainspring of all this; that vehement desire for pleasure which was urging me to labour, that I might the sooner obtain wealth and enjoy life as I would.

"How hard I worked! Ah, Colonel! think of this wretched entrance on manhood. I know that time ought to be a bright period of life-noble aspirations and ambitions, wild impossibilities oftentimes, but still noble. All the ambition I had was to gain money!

"Uncle Corley understood my character-the worse for me; he felt I was being gradually moulded to his own fashion. In mature manhood, business would grow into the habit of life-the taste for pleasure would die away, no other unprofitable taste would be developed in its place; I should become a perfect man of business-intellect dwarfed to the details of my profession, intellect converted into a coining machine. Uncle Corley applied his golden rule to literature, art, and science, and, in comparison with a good legal practice, they were valueless as an investment of talent and time.

"Still, Colonel, this period of my life was elevated by a noble desire; -amid all this eagerness for money, my mother's happiness was entwined with mine; we were to enjoy affluence together.

"On that word, 'enjoy,' my mother cast the first doubt. Riches not ensure enjoyment?-strange fancy, which inexperience rejected— bitter truth, which age has realised. When I was working so hard, she used to look on me with sad eyes. In the twilight time, we two sitting together without occupation, burning wishes thronging my brain till they broke into words-pleasure that was to come with money, always money-and then she would answer me, very mildly indeed, not with words of repoof, but with gentle authority; with far more firmness of purpose than was her wont, for in most matters her mind was easily swayed; but on this subject, she spoke from the

depths of her heart, where lay the recollections of his character, who had won the affections of her girlhood-generous, noble-hearted, disinterested, unworldly-grand in comparison with the mean soul of his brother, my Uncle Corley.

"I would kiss away her tears, and promise to think less of money, to remember there were other, greater pleasures which money could not procure. I did try to do this, but there was no experience of life to support the promise, and there was every untasted allurement urging my desire for wealth.

"I have often feared that my mother must have died less happy on my account-not that my love or devotion changed towards her-but she must have seen, day by day, that I was falling below her treasured standard of character; that my nature was gradually losing its noble qualities.

"At last things became prosperous with me. I had completed my articles; I was a lawyer, and we were relieved from mean necessity by

a moderate income, bequeathed, most unexpectedly, by a distant relation of my mother's. I threatened to leave my Uncle unless he raised my wretched pittance. He hesitated, refused-I was firm, he yielded. I learnt my full power over him then, and I was determined to use it. He was growing old. I was of the greatest value in transacting his confidential business. He must take me as a partner; he was enraged at my demand, enraged at the impossibility of refusing it, and, finally, I became his partner.

"There was a sad limit to my triumph-my mother's fast failing health.

"My success flushed her pale cheek—her eyes lit up as they gazed on my exulting countenance-she must get well and strong-there were many unaccustomed comforts in our nice house at Brompton, new furniture, a pleasant garden, green, undimmed by London smoke, a comfortable carriage when the weather was warm enough for drives. But, the mention of all these things, only elicited a quiet smile, or a gentle bend of the head. We were so well off!-it seemed terrible that she should die now, now that life was no longer burdened by mean necessity! The Doctor was gloomy and silent. 'He must come every day,' I said; 'half-a-dozen times a day-at night-money was no object,' and, day by day, I found with despair, that money was of no avail. I heaped every luxury round her I had attendants, nurses, doctors,-but I had been her chief nurse in the old time of our poverty, and she loved my nursing best; she seemed to care but little for the new things; at intervals, when she was strong enough, all her talk was of the little shop-parlour, of our life there, and of bright days before that. I had been such a good son,' she would say, and her voice would, for the moment, gain greater strength. ‘I had worked so hard for her comfort,-and if I had estimated the value of money too highly, she knew it was for her sake alone.'

"Colonel, I mourned very deeply the death of my mother. Time, in its due course, brought consolation, but it was only in after days, that I learnt the real loss I had sustained in my mother's death.

"When I muse over my past existence, I often think of that anecdote of Napoleon;-how he used, in his island exile, to fight over again his old battles; how in that retrospect of his military career, victories may have been rendered more complete, defeats may have been changed to victories-Waterloo, a French triumph-Europe, a French empire,-and I often wonder what change would have been wrought in my trivial existence if my mother had lived, and her gentle influence had upheld me at the time when I was to emerge from the drudging of a lawyer's office, and enter upon the dearlycoveted enjoyments of society.

"Ten years too late did I enter the pleasure-world. I had far less knowledge of society and its needful accomplishments than a boy of eighteen; and I was already thirty years of age. A hundred blunders are hidden in the bloom of youth!—and then youth has a buoyant confidence in self and a defiant carlessness for the opinion of others. I was painfully sensible of my dificiencies—I had a clumsy knowledge of dancing-I grew nervous, flurried, and soon gave it up;-and then, as

for conversation, why, the veriest fools about could say something and exite a smiling interest in their fair-faced partners, but my tongue wouldn't wag with the easy nothings that fit a ball room. It was true that the heavy tenants of quiet corners, the practical business men, whose marriageable daughters forced them to butterfly occupation, listened with great interest to my opinions on business matters, but it was not for this that I had slaved through long nights, that I had copied with a feverish head and mechanical hand, till for moments together I forgot my occupation, and, though still driving my pen, imagined I was in a glow of light, the revelry of gay hearts, the sound of music and dancing in my ears-the long-headed wick and flickering flame to draw me back again to stern reality.

"Well, the fancy was realized at last;-the ball room, finer than I had imaged it; but where was the intoxicating enjoyment I had dreamt. of?—I was in that world of fashion, but not of it-an alien and a stranger to the gay throng.

"But the iron restraint of young years was burst, and excitement I would have. I found it in the under-world of pleasure. There, at least, I was at my ease; the conventionalities of society ceased to trouble; no need of blushing at any errors in polite breeding; though, I think, you and I, Colonel, when we recollect those days, have some need to blush now.

"Just when Uncle Corley flattered himself that I had reached his standard of excellence this outburst took place. I know Uncle Corley did not love me one atom on the score of relationship, nor; indeed, did he ever love a single being on that score or any other, but I was a pet hobby with him, and I am sure no fond parent, careful of the moral welfare of his son, could have felt deeper sorrow for the irregularities I committed than did my Uncle Corley. He entreated, threatened, all in vain. 'Losing your business habits'-that was his everlasting theme, his sore regret. He might as well have talked to a post for the effect he had on me. Recollect, Colonel, it was the unsated desires of youth, knit to the strong passions of a man, that he had to deal with. "Your glass is empty? With this long story of mine, I'm forgetting the duties of host."

"My name was growing famous, or infamous about town. I don't think I could have stood it much longer. My constitution was giving way. A few months more and I should have fairly killed myself. The death of Uncle Corley saved me. How vividly I can recollect being fetched from that supper party. My uncle's old clerk, Jeffrey, entered the room-I could just distinguish him, with the misty vision left. me, amid the smoke and dancing lights. I must have fancied he came from Uncle Corley to reprove me, for I recollect swearing at him, the shrill laugh of the women, and the jeering of the whole crew. whispered in my ear, 'Your Uncle is dying, Sir.' 'Uncle Corley dying!' With a violent effort I aroused myself. The words were echoed about the room. 'Old boy,' hiccupped a drunken bully, addressing Jeffrey, 'you shall drink to Uncle Corley's better health!'— 'Yes, yes,' shrieked everybody.-'More champaign!-brandy!' shouted the bully in a hoarse voice. He tottered forward and laid his

He

hot hands on the old man's shoulder. It was the work of an instant; I felled the ruffian to the floor. The whole room arose. I pushed Jeffrey on before me; in the confusion we gained the door. When we got to the cool night air I staggered, and should have fallen, but for the old man's arm. That was my last night 'upon town.'

"As we hurried along, Jeffrey told me, that on entering my Uncle's private office, previous to going to bed, he had discovered him senseless in his chair, his head resting on the desk.

"When we entered the room, I found Uncle Corley still lying insensible in his easy chair. They had not dared to move him; the Doctor was trying some remedy; the old woman that kept the chambers, always stupid by day, always tipsy by night, was obeying the Doctor's orders with maudlin zeal. A clergyman stood close at hand; Jeffrey had sent for him. Two flaring office candles dimly lighted the group. "He can't live, Sir' said the Doctor addressing me.

me.

"Speak to him; perhaps he will understand your voice—his will !' "'His will is made,' I replied.

"Uncle Corley started, his eyes opened, and he gazed rigidly at

"I beseech you, Sir,' said the clergyman, 'to divest your thoughts of all earthly things.'

"The eyes closed again, and Uncle Corley sank back,

"Dear Master,' exclaimed the old clerk, who was on his knees striving to warm the numbed feet, 'do try to listen for your soul's good -it's the clergyman, Mr. Simeon.'

"Ah,' murmured Uncle Corley, 'Mr. Simeon.'

"If you would partake of that blessed inheritance—'

"The countenance of the dying man lit up.

"Inheritance!' he muttered feebly; 'speak plainly. I'm deaf! Tenant in tail?-fee simple?'

"For heaven's sake make him understand, Sir,' said the old clerk imploringly. 'He'll be lost,-lost eternally!—'

"Are there any worldly matters that still weigh upon your mind?' asked the clergyman earnestly-Your will.'

"Uncle Corley started again; his eyes opened; he feebly pointed to the writing table.

"'Sir,' said Jeffrey to me, 'he wants that paper on the table; make haste.'

"I rushed to the table, glanced hastily over the document—it was a codicil revoking the will made in my favour.

"Quick, Sir!' exclaimed the clerk; he's failing fast.' I seized the paper, staggered forward, and fell senseless at Uncle Corley's feet.

"When I regained my senses, I found myself still in the same room. I was stretched on the sofa-the old woman was bathing my temples-the candles were still flaring, but daylight was pouring through the shutters the events of the night came straggling into my bewildered head-I glanced round the room, Uncle Corley's chair was vacant-we were alone. 'Dead!' I asked.

"Dead!' replied the woman.

"I rushed to the desk; the fatal document was gone. "Did he sign?-was it signed ?'