it is thoroughly exposed the sooner it will be stopped. Both sickness and temptation are among the unforeseen but certain evils of life. It is wise to expect them and to be prepared for them, and espe- ' cially so with regard to servants. All domestic crises touch the servants more or less, while some events which happen out of the regular course of life press upon them with peculiar sharpness and force. Extra amounts of work occasionally spring up, and for the time servants are severely taxed. Busy seasons of this kind try the judiciousness of the mistress quite as much as the character of the servants. If the mistress is selfish and unreason habits may be neutralised and prevented. A faithful and judicious housewife can perceive when the incipient evil is beginning to grow, and her kindly hand can pull up the weed and its roots. Subjection to judicious vigilance in early life is the best preventive of evil habits, and if young servants were better cared for they would fall into fewer temptations. Wholly to prevent temptation is impossible. Resistance of evil is a great portion of human discipline, and our character is strong by the amount of temptation to which we oppose a successful resistance. But there ought to be no unguarded points in our domestic life, and no looseness in our social habits. It is true that we must be tempted in this world, but the liability to temp-able, she will lay all this extra amount of work ⠀ tation must be reduced as far as may be consistent with the discharge of our duty. The domestic order of every household should be constructed with the most scrupulous regard to the exclusion of temptation. The bearing of these remarks upon the virtues of servants must be obvious to every reader, The principle cannot here be applied in detail, and it only remains to observe that a true regard for servants will prevent their exposure to temptation as far as possible. M. E. B., a lady evidently well versed in the ethics and improvement of social life, requests us to draw attention to a new temptation which is environing many servant girls in wealthy families, and it is to be hoped that the warning which she kindly enables us to give will receive good heed. The temptation, which has already proved the ruin of some servant girls, grows out of what is technically termed the "pig tub," or "perquisite system." The parties who call for scraps, &c., are sometimes thieves and receivers all in one; and as they make their calls under the protection of an authorised system, they are too little suspected of dishonesty; yet many of these hawkers, or "peripatetic marine store dealers," are known to the police as bad characters. Pigs don't feed on silver spoons, nor is it customary to put a jewel into a swine's snout; but many valuables pass out of respectable houses under cover of rags and scraps, simply because they could have gone in no other way. We should be sorry to pain the mind of honest servants by insinuating that domestics, as a class, are guilty of this new mode of stealing and selling their employers' property. We only call attention to it for the sake of those whom it may concern. Let servants be on their guard against the fatal facilities of theft, which are made alluring to them by the area sneak; or rather let the mistress lock the area gate at dusk, dispense with the perquisite system, and warn the disguised receiver of stolen goods off the premises altogether-which would be better still. It is an injustice to your domestics to place them at the mercy of every wily and inveig ling scamp who decoys girls to their ruin through "cupboard love" and "pig tubs." The evil and novel system has certainly had some success, and will no doubt run through its day; but the sooner upon the servants without a word of explanation. That all the inconvenience of an unexpected and busy season should exclusively devolve upon the servants is unreasonable. For this they never bargained, and to this they are not always competent. If their hands were full before, it is obvious that a large accession of duty must be to them a heavy and oppressive encroachment. The evil is not that extra busy seasons occur; this is inevitable in the nature of things; but the evil is that the emergency is unfairly met. A few kind words and a little assistance would put a cheerful face upon the days which are extra busy. When servants are made to feel that their extra services are gratefully appre ciated, it lightens their burden and cheers them through the passing struggle. In the imperfections of this life are found the materials of necessitated separation, and over every thing earthly hovers the shadow of departure. We no sooner begin to understand each other and to be of use to each other than we are parted asunder, perhaps to meet no more. "Farewell" is the mournful bell which has rung out many a dying hope and many a golden dream. In peace, and in battle, in friendship and domestic life, in commerce and in church relations, the same stern law of separation is perpetually at work, dividing mankind from one another, and drying up the beautiful soul-streams which had only just begun to flow. Separation has much to do with the subject of this paper. There is the same necessity of separation resting upon households and servants, both good and bad. Accidents, offences, failing health, incompetence, misunderstandings, hatreds, love of change, all and each are producing constant changes in domestic life. Servants ought not to be lightly dismissed, but on the other hand it is folly to keep them when all hopes of peace and comfort are destroyed. It is of no use to part as enemies. A kind and friendly separation is best, for amid the numerous maligners, the envious detractors and the slanderers of this world, it is some comfort to think when a servant is dismissed that one has turned out one enemy the less instead of having made another contribution to the herd of ignorant and selfish maligners. H. W. HOLLAND. GUILD COURT. London Story. BY GEORGE MAC DONALD, Author of "David Elginbrod," "Alec Forbes," &c. CHAPTER XLIV. THOMAS RETURNS TO LONDON. "We're one hand short this voyage; and you've done something to fill the gap." "I'm very glad, I'm sure. But what would you advise me to do when we reach Newcastle? It will be some time before you get off again." "Not long. If you like to take your share in getting the cargo on board, you can make wages by that." "With all my heart," said Thomas, whom this announcement greatly relieved. "It's dirty work," said the captain. "There's plenty of water about," answered Thomas. When they came to Newcastle, Thomas worked as hard as any of them, getting the ballast out and the new cargo in. He had never known what it was to work before; and though it tired him dreadfully at first, it did him good. AFTER this Thomas made rapid progress in the favour of Captain Smith. He had looked upon him as a land-lubber before, with the contempt of his profession; but when he saw that, clerk as he was, he was yet capable at sea, he began to respect him. And as Thomas wakened up more and more to an interest in what was going on around him, he did not indulge in giving him fool's answers to the questions he asked, as so many seafarers would have been ready to do; and he soon found that Thomas's education, though it was by no means a first-rate one, enabled him to ask more questions with regard to the laws of wind and water and the combination of forces than he was quite able to solve. Before they reached the end of the voyage, Thomas knew the rigging pretty well, and could make himself useful on board. Anxious to ingratiate himself with the captain-longing almost unconsciously for the support of some human approbation, the more that he had none to give himself-he laid himself out to please him. Having a tolerably steady head, he soon found himself able to bear a hand in taking in a reef in the fore-topsail; and he could steer by the course with tolerable steadiness. The sailors were a not unsociable set of men, and as he presumed upon nothing, they too gave him what help they could, not without letting off a few jokes at his expense, in the laughter following on which he did his best to join. The captain soon began to order him about like the rest, which was the best kindness he could have shown him; and Thomas's obedience was more than prompt -it was as pleasant as possible. He had on his part some information to give the captain; and their meals in the cabin together were often merry enough. "Do you think you could ever make a sailor of not a few, especially women, lose their senses just me?" asked Tom one day. "Not a doubt of it, my boy," the captain answered. "A few voyages more, and you'll go aloft like a monkey." "Where do you think of making your next voyage, sir?" asked Tom. "Well, I'm part owner of the brig, and can do pretty much as I like. I did think of Dundee." Amongst the men was one whom he liked more than the rest. He had been in the merchant service, and had sailed to India and other places. He knew more than his shipmates, and had only taken to the coasting for a time for family reasons. With him Thomas chiefly consorted when their day's work was over. With a growing hope that by some means he might rise at last into another kind of company, he made the best he could of what he had, knowing well that it was far better than he deserved, and far better than what of late he had been voluntarily choosing. His hope, however, alternated with such fits of misery and despair, that if it had not been for the bodily work he had to do, he thought he would have lost his reason. I believe not a few keep hold of their senses in virtue of doing hard work. I knew an earl's son and heir who did so. And I think that from having nothing to do. Many more, who are not in danger of this, lose their health, and more still lose their purity and rectitude. In other words, health-physical, mental, moral, and spiritualrequires, for its existence and continuance, work, often hard and bodily labour. This man lived in Newcastle, and got Thomas a decent room near his own dwelling, where he slept. "I should have thought they had coal enough of One evening they had been walking together about their own thereabouts." the place till they were tired. It was growing late, "A cargo of English coal never comes amiss. It's and as they were some distance from home, they went better than theirs by a long way." "I can't. I don't want anything but my rations, you know." "You'll soon be worth your wages. I can't say you are yet, you know." "Of course not. You must have your full crew besides." into a little public house which Robins knew to get a bit of bread and cheese and some ale. Robins was a very sober man, and Thomas felt no scruple in accompanying him thus, although one of the best things to be said for Thomas was, that ever since he went on board the Raven he had steadily refused to touch spirits. Perhaps, as I have hinted before, there was less merit in this than may appear, for the very smell was associated with such painful memories of misery that it made him shudder. Sometimes a man's physical nature comes in to help him to be good. For such a dislike may grow into a principle which will last after the dislike has vanished. They sat down in a little room with coloured prints of ships in full sail upon the walls, a sanded floor, in the once new fashion which superseded rushes, and an ostrich egg hanging from the ceiling. The landlady was a friend of Robins, and showed them this attention. On the other side of a thin partition was the ordinary room, where the ordinary run of customers sat and drank their grog. There were only two or three in there when our party entered. Presently, while Thomas and Robins were sitting at their supper, they heard two or three more come in. A hearty recognition took place, and fresh orders were given. Thomas started and listened. He thought he heard the name Ningpo. Now, from Thomas's having so suddenly broken off all connection with his friends, he knew nothing of what had been going on with regard to the property Mr. Boxall had left behind him. He thought, of course, that Mrs. Boxall would inherit it. It would not be fair to suppose, however, that this added to his regret at having lost Lucy, for he was humbled enough to be past that. The man who is turned out of Paradise does not grieve over the loss of its tulips, or, if he does, how came he ever to be within its gates? But the very fact that the name of Boxall was painful to him, made the name of that vessel attract and startle him at once. "What's the matter?" said Robins. "Didn't you hear some one in the next room mention the Ningpo ?" returned Thomas. "Yes. She was a barque in the China trade." "Lost last summer on the Cape Verdes. I knew the captain—at least, I didn't know him, but I knew his brother and his family. They were all on board, and all lost." "Ah!" said Robins, "that's the way of it, you see. People oughtn't to go to sea but them as has business there. Did you say the crew was lost as well ?" "So the papers said." Robins rose, and went into the next room. He had a suspicion that he knew the voice. Almost the same moment a rough burst of greeting came to Thomas's ears; and a few minutes after, Robins entered, bringing with him a sailor so rough, so hairy, so brown, that he looked as if he must be proof against any attack of the elements-casehardened against wind and water. 66 "Here's the gentleman," said Robins, as knew your captain, Jack." kept a secret from an eye used to read all sorts of signals. I will not attempt to give the story in Jack's lingo. But the certainty was that he had been on board the Ningpo when she went to pieces— that he had got ashore on a spar, after sitting through the night on the stern, and seeing every soul lost, as far as he believed, but himself. He had no great power of description, and did not volunteer much; but he returned very direct answers to all the questions Thomas put to him. Had Thomas only read some of the proceedings in the Court of Probate during the last few months, he would have known better what sort of questions to put to him. Almost the only remark Jack volunteered was "Poor little July! how she did stick to me to be sure! But she was as dead as a marlinspike long afore the starn broke up." "Were you long on the island?" asked Tom. "No, not long," answered the sailor. "I always was one of the lucky ones. I was picked up the same day by a brigantine bound from Portingale to the Sambusy." Little did Tom think how much might be involved in what Jack said. They parted, and the friends went home together. They made a good voyage, notwithstanding some rough weather, to Dundee, failed in getting a return cargo, and went back to Newcastle in ballast. From Newcastle their next voyage was to London again. "If you would rather not go to London," said the master to Tom, "there's a friend of mine here who is just ready to start for Aberdeen. I daresay if I were to speak to him he would take you on board." But Tom's heart was burning to see Lucy once more-if only to see her and restore her ring. If, he thought, he might but once humble himself to the dust before her-if he might but let her see that, worthless as he was, he worshipped her, his heart would be easier. He thought likewise, that what with razoring and tanning, and the change of his clothes, he was not likely to be recognized. And besides, by this time the power must be out of Mr. Stopper's hands; at least Lucy must have come to exert her influence over the affairs of the business, and she would not allow them to drive things to extremity with him, worthless as he was. He would venture, come of it what might. So he told the captain that he would much prefer to work his passage to London again. It was a long passage this time, and very rough weather. It was with strange feelings that Thomas saw once more the turrets of the Tower of London. Danger-exposure, it might be-lay before him, but "Do, sir ?" said Jack, touching an imaginary sou'- he thought only of Lucy, not of the shame now. It wester. "What'll you have ?" asked Tom. This important point settled, they had a talk together, in which Jack opened up more freely in the presence of Robins than he would have felt interest enough to do with a stranger alone who was only a would-be sailor at best-a fact which could not be was yet early morning when Captain Smith and he went on shore at Shadwell. The captain was going to see an old friend in the neighbourhood, and after that to Limehouse, to the Mermaid, to see his sister. Thomas wanted to be alone, for he had not yet succeeded in making up his mind what he was going to do. So he sent a grateful message by the |