"True! this is the first time I ever forgot

it," said Jacintha.

"And may have valuable information to impart."

"Depend on it she won't give it you!"

Well, we shall see. Why should I depend on it before I have tried?"

"Oh, if you like to," said Jacintha, with distaste.

"What do you mean to do?" said I. "I think it will be a very good plan for us each to do whatever we can, to-morrow, according to our several judgments."

"Then I shall call on Mrs. Forsyth," said Jacintha, with decision.

"I don't think much good is likely to accrue from that," said I.

"No more than I think there is any good in your calling on Mrs. Cole," retorted Jacintha.

"We each have our cronies," observed Marian.

"Crony is hardly a suitable word for a Mrs. Forsyth," said Jacintha.

"I shall call on Mrs. Christmas," said Marian. "Marian!"

"I shall ! We each have our cronies." And again, old Hawkins, as she entered to clear the table, was cheered with that sweet, silvery laugh.

"Another of the Miss Middlemasses' funny jokes, Hawkins."

"Dear ladies, I hopes the muffin's was to your mind.".

"Quite, thank you: I feel all the better for them; and so, I dare say, do my sisters, for they could not touch their dinner."

"Ah, that is why you thought of the muffins," said Jacintha. "Well, it really was kind of you."

When candles were lit and the table cleared, Marian set to work with writing materials, to sketch out her crude ideas of cards, circulars, and "the daily routine."

"I wonder," said she, after having been thus employed for some time, "I wonder what John will think of it."

"Time enough for him to know when all is settled," said Jacintha.

I believe we each had our misgivings on the subject.

CHAPTER II.

A husbandman, whose three sons were not always on the best terms, one day pointed to a fagot, and desired each of them in turn to try to break it. After they had all failed, he directed them to untie it, and then try to snap each stick separately; which they did with ease. Then said the old man, "Thus you, my children, as long as you remain united, are a match for all your enemies ; but, differ and separate, and you are all undone !"— Æsop's Fables.

T appears to me that the Middlemasses have

IT

always thought sufficiently well of themselves. By this I may be understood to imply that we have thought rather more of ourselves than there was, perhaps, any absolute occasion for. Thus, we were not of the lower ranks, but were not high born; and yet we thought and talked a good deal of "the family," though we knew nothing of it beyond our grandfather

-a plain, honest man. Also, we were apt to think we had sustained heavy losses, and been reduced from great affluence; whereas our means had never been more than moderate, though extremely comfortable, till my father's expensive courses began. Again, we regarded our domestic misfortunes as remarkably hard and worthy of a very extraordinary amount of sympathy from our friends; whereas I now incline to believe that hundreds and thousands of families of the middle class might have been found at any time, in any part of the United Kingdoms, who would have thought their lot vastly bettered indeed, had it been no more aggravated than ours. However, fortunately for us, there was a sincerity in our representations of our affairs, which completely won over the majority of our acquaintance to view them precisely as we did. We were very much pitied and condoled with, and great allowances