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settlement, and they were only thirty miles from the lake when, meeting with the swamp, they had inadvertently bent their steps back into the woods along their own track. Townsend's loghut was fifty miles from their home, and had only recently been erected near a salt spring he had discovered some time before.

Mrs Townsend attended to the frozen feet of Nowlan; and after they had rested and sufficiently recovered strength, they started for their own settlement by the aid of a blazed line-bark taken from trees with an axe by a previous travellerand on Christmas eve, thirteen days after they had left them, they had once more the happiness of entering their own homes and enjoying the comforts of their own firesides.

OUR PARLOUR-MA I D.

IN TWO CHAPTERS.-CHAP. I.

I AM the wife of a medical man in London, who, I am thankful to say, possesses an excellent practice. Our house is in Notting Hill; but I need not particularise the exact locality, as it has nothing to do with my story. We employ three servants indoors-cook, housemaid, and parlour-maid. As we have no children, we do not require a nurse. And I am sure, from my own experience, when I hear people declare that there are very few good servants to be had now, and that doing their duty is generally the very last thing they think of, I sympathise and agree with them from the bottom of my

heart. I am convinced there are few such faithful, attached domestics to be had now, as there used to be in my grandmother's days. I am a most indulgent mistress, and yet I have not been able to get servants to stay with me. If, by great good fortune, I have found one to suit me, she sure either to quarrel with the others, or take offence at some trivial matter, or discover that the situation was not good enough, and that she ought to 'better herself;' and then all the wearisome round of registry offices, advertisements, correspondence, and interviews have had to be gone through again.

was

At the time of which I write, however, I was fortunate enough to have a tolerable cook, and a housemaid who seemed all that was desirable; but I could not meet with a parlourmaid. My last was a stately middle-aged woman, with manners fit for a palace, who had come to me with a recommendation from a lady of title. But, alas! I soon discovered that she drank. Finally, she returned one Sunday evening hopelessly intoxicated, and my heart died within me at the prospect of having to hunt for another. I advertised again, and had several applications. One was from a young woman who had been living for three years at a country vicarage in Surrey. She referred me to her late master, the Rev. Wentworth Allardyce, who was then at Folkestone, where he was staying on account of his health. I wrote to him at the address

given, which was a fashionable hotel; and received a reply, giving Eliza Willis such a high character for honesty, sobriety, and conscientiousness, that I engaged her at once.

A more prepossessing girl I never saw. Imagine a Madonna face, framed in smooth soft brown hair, pensive hazel eyes, a sweet smile, a neat trim figure, most winningly deferential manners—and you have the portrait of Eliza Willis. She was a thoroughly competent servant, who seldom needed directions, and never had to be told a thing twice; a fact which spoke volumes for her efficiency, as any old housekeeper could certify. So domestic peace at last seemed to settle down upon us, and for a time I lived in a paradise. From morning till night, Eliza laboured to save me trouble and annoyance. If I forgot anything, no disaster ensued, for her admirable memory supplied the deficiency. If I had a headache, she would smooth my pillow and bring me tea with the dexterity of a professional nurse, superadded to the tenderness of a personal friend. She could sew better than any girl I ever knew, and was invaluable to me in repairing the household linen and in executing any little alteration in my wardrobe. Her skill in waiting at table and her politeness to all visitors delighted every body who came to the house. She performed all these various functions, too, with such sweetness, that that alone was a high recommendation. No one ever saw Eliza ruffled or out of temper. Neither hurry nor delay made her She was so willing and obliging, that she objected to doing anything required of

cross.

never

her.

She was also honest to a degree-absurdly honest, I used to say. One night, for instance, very late, when I was sitting up for Charlie, she came down wrapped in a shawl, hours after she had gone to bed, to say that she recollected she had given me change a penny short on returning from an errand that day, and she could not sleep for thinking about it. She assured me so fervently, as she handed me the coin, that she had never wronged anybody of a halfpenny in her whole life, that from that moment I would have trusted her with untold gold.

that very unpleasant experience few mistresses She had been with us about two months, when entirely escape, of finding things mysteriously At first I scarcely noticed it; but by-and-by I disappear or lessen in quantity, became mine. had no choice but to admit very unwillingly that there must be a thief in the house. I don't know a more miserable sensation than that produced by such knowledge. The articles missed were all little trifling things, such as an inexpert thief would take, under the impression that their very insignificance rendered it safe to steal them. cotton and silk from my work-basket, ribbons I missed note-paper and envelopes, reels of from my drawers, and similar odds and ends, Some change received from the milkman, and temporarily deposited on the dresser in the

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kitchen, was never accounted for. But the climax was the loss of a valuable sapphire ring, which, being in a hurry one day, I had placed in a drawer of my dressing-table. I turned the key in the drawer, but omitted to take it out; and when, an hour after, I came upstairs to put it on, the ring had disappeared.

I could hesitate no longer. My husband was away, and I had none but my own counsel to rely upon; and as it was almost certain that the thief must be one of the servants, I decided to call them separately into my bedroom and interrogate them; and if they persisted in deny ing all knowledge of the ring, I should then make them turn out their boxes before me. I first summoned the cook, whom I knew to be honest, and did not for one moment suspect. I was not surprised to hear her emphatically deny that she had ever touched my things. I went up-stairs with her, and stood by while she turned out her trunk as a matter of form; and when nothing was discovered, I dismissed her, and told her to send Jane the housemaid to me. She was a stout hearty country girl, who had come to me with an excellent character about six months before. She was quicktempered, and at once fired up when I asked her whether, on her honour, she had any knowledge of the matter.

'Ma'am, I never took a pin of yours or anybody else's in my life!' said Jane, with an emphasis which seemed most sincere. 'And as to your ring, ma'am, I'd give a month's wages to find it, for I can't bear to think that there are people in this house who are not honest. But, ma'am-though it's perhaps mean to say so, and I know you don't encourage us servants to tell tales of one another-still I feel as if you ought to know that I'm sure one of us is a thief!'

'It is not cook,' I said.

'No, ma'am ; it's Eliza. You think all the world of her, ma'am ; but you're deceived in her. As sure as my name's Emma Jane Collins, you're deceived in her!'

The girl's manner was so earnest that I felt disagreeably shocked.

Are you quite sure of what you say, Jane? It is a serious thing to bring such a charge; and I never had a servant more attentive and obliging than Eliza.'

'I can't say I ever saw her steal anything, ma'am,' said my handmaiden vehemently. But I'm as sure as possible that she took your ring, and nobody else.'

'Well, Jane,' I said, anxious to sift the matter as soon as possible, 'I hope you are mistaken in what you say; but, as a matter of form, I must see your box emptied, as I have already seen

cook's.'

'Very well, ma'am; I'm sure I've no objection.'

So I led the way to the large attic where all the three girls slept. Jane opened her two boxes with the utmost willingness, and stood beside me with a smile on her face, as much as to say: 'You will see what an entirely needless business you have undertaken!'

I lifted up some collars and cuffs. What could this be? Note-paper and envelopes with my monogram, E. C. L.-Edith Catherine Lester!

Hidden away among piles of winter clothing was a miscellaneous assortment of our property, some of which I had not missed as yet-small nicknacks out of the drawing-room, a volume of Sir Walter Scott, a pair of sleeve-links of my husband's, two of my best pocket-handkerchiefs, and, rolled up in an old newspaper, a pot of my strawberry jam! I turned indignantly to look at Jane, and denounce her as the thief she was; when, to my utter amazement, I saw she was staring at the plunder with an expression of such complete and stupefied astonishment, that a stranger would have supposed she had never seen the things before, and was puzzled to know how they came there. At the very bottom of the box was a small package of white paper, loosely tied round with thread. Opening it, I saw, to my joy, my missing ring.

"You wicked, wicked girl!' I said, as I slipped it on my finger. Now, what have you to say for yourself?'

'If I never speak another word, ma'am,' she returned undauntedly, 'I never saw those things before, and I never put them in my box.'

'You can hardly expect me to believe that,' I said, indignant at her falsehood and effrontery. They could not get into your box without hands.'

'I never put them there,' returned Jane, beginning to cry. 'I don't know who did; unless it's some wicked person who wants to ruin me. O ma'am, O ma'am !' she implored earnestly, 'do believe me when I say I never took them!'

"That is nonsense, Jane,' I said sternly. 'Telling a lie will not make better of it. Turn out your other box, and let me see what else of mine you have stolen.'

There proved to be nothing in it but caps and her Sunday hat. She never ceased to protest amid her tears that she had never touched my things, until I was quite exasperated at her hardihood. 'Now, Jane, you had much better confess without telling any more falsehoods. Lying will not do any good. If you will confess ''I won't confess to doing what I never did, ma'am,' she answered defiantly.

'Very well, then. I shall call the others, and show them these things, that they may know who is the culprit; and then you leave my service at once.'

So I rang for cook and Eliza, and, pointing to my belongings on the floor, said that the thief was found. Eliza offered to turn out her box, saying that it was only right that she should do so as well as the others. Of course there was nothing of mine in it; but it was much tidier than either of the others, with her treasured Bible and Prayer-book neatly wrapped in tissuepaper and lying on the top.

I then told Jane to come to me in the diningroom, where a most unpleasant scene ensued, for she stoutly maintained her innocence. I am rather cowardly, like a great many women, about prosecuting dishonest servants. Rather than appear as a witness against her, I would have condoned a great deal; and I did not like the idea of sending such a young girl to prison. mother I knew to be an honest, hard-working widow, who would be heart-broken at Jane's

Her

behaviour. So I told her that, on account of her previous good character and my respect for her mother, I had decided not to call in the police; but that she must leave the house immediately, and need never refer to me for a character; and I hoped my being so lenient would induce her to repent and reform.

She listened without the smallest softening, that I could see; and turned at the door to say: 'Well, ma'am, I can only say you've been deceived. Some day, you will know the true from the false.'

She departed. Kind Eliza helped her to pack her boxes, fetched a cab for her, and gave her a tract at parting, with, as cook afterwards told me, some excellent advice. I must say this made me admire and respect the parlour-maid more than ever. There are not many who will say a kind word to a detected thief.

Then came up the disagreeable problem of getting another housemaid at a moment's notice; but here, fortunately, Eliza came to my relief. She knew a girl, she said, a distant connection of her own, who was just leaving a situation at South Kensington. I wrote to her mistress, who gave her an excellent character; and in a few days she was installed in our house. She was not quite so prepossessing in appearance as Eliza, as she had rather a cast in her eyes; but she proved an excellent servant, and now that Jane had gone, I was not annoyed by petty pilferings.

It is not often that my good husband finds fault with anything in the house; but one evening, as we were sitting at dinner, he did take exception to the tarnished condition of our plate generally, and especially of one piece on the sideboard a large silver salver, which we used for a tea-tray on state occasions; two very massive cups; and a fine tankard, quite eighteen inches high, which had belonged to his grandfather. 'Yes, I know it wants cleaning badly,' I said. 'I intend to have it all done one of these days. The London atmosphere soon tarnishes it.'

We had a great deal of plate-most of it very old, and which had been in my husband's family for generations. As he was an only child, he had inherited it all. I had also a good many handsome silver articles among my wedding-presents. I hope I shall not be accused of boastful arrogance, when I say that, between us, we had almost more than we knew what to do with. It was a nuisance to keep clean, and a constant worry to me. We kept it all in the house. We had tried leaving it at our bank; but that method was very inconvenient when we were giving a dinnerparty and needed a number of extra articles. Also, my husband liked to have it to look at, as also to show occasionally some particularly old and valuable piece to some connoisseur-friend. So, though we had often been threatened by our friends with burglars, and warned that we should have our plate stolen, we continued to store it, except those articles in use, in a small room at the head of the stairs, next to our bedroom, where we must hear any sound there in the night. The plate was not in a safe, being so large in quantity; but we had had an especially strong oak-press, with double doors lined with iron, made expressly for it. The press was fitted with shelves and drawers lined with green

baize. Connected with it was an electric bell, which must infallibly ring if any unaccustomed hand essayed to open the outer lock. The locks themselves were of complicated construction; and we never left the house in the daytime without at least one servant in it. On the rare occasions on which I could persuade my husband to indulge himself with a few weeks of holiday, we always sent all the plate to the bank. I may add that the door of the plate-room itself was always kept locked and the key in my possession; and that the window was protected by heavy iron bars inside.

My husband laid but few restrictions upon me; but there was one point upon which he was resolute-nobody must ever go to the plateroom but me. No matter how trustworthy the servants might be, I was never to give them the keys, or even allow them to know how much plate we had. Charlie's firm belief was that at least three-fourths of the burglaries that occur were planned either by the servants or by associates and friends of theirs.

I must say I found the restriction sometimes rather tiresome, when I was busy preparing for a dinner-party, and the housemaid came to say that she wanted more spoons and forks and other articles for the table. It would often have been an immense relief to me to hand her the keys and say: 'I am very busy; get what is required yourself.' But I never did, although I might think Charlie over-cautious.

The very day after my husband had spoken being pouring wet, and the servants not having much to do, it occurred to me that I had better go to the plate-room and get out what silver required cleaning, and let them have it. It was always a tedious operation. So I went up-stairs, got out my keys, opened the press, and began work. It was more than a year since most of it had been cleaned, and I looked over every thing, determined to have it all done, and well done, in readiness for our next dinner-party. The articles which needed polishing I put down on the floor, for there was neither table nor chair in the room, nothing but the press.

'If you please, ma'am,' said a soft voice at my elbow, here is a letter the postman has just brought.'

It was Eliza. I must say that for half a minute I felt vexed to think that, no doubt hearing me stirring about, she had followed me in here. True, I had never told any of the servants not to come into that room, for I had not thought it worth while. However, here Eliza was; and I saw her gaze wander, very naturally, to the open press with its well-filled shelves, and the accumulation on the floor. 'O ma'am, what beautiful things!' she said admiringly.

"Yes, are they not?' I said. 'Dr Lester is very proud of his silver; for most of it has been a long time in his family. I want you and Sarah to clean the plate to-day. I will put what requires cleaning outside the door, and you can come and fetch it.'

Eliza went out with-I could not help fancying-just the slightest shade of unwillingness in her manner; and I carefully locked the door, after leaving some of the things outside. In dne time they were brought up-stairs again brilliantly

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polished, and I put them all away, feeling rather heroic for resisting the temptation to call in Eliza to help me. Had it not been for my pledged word to my husband, I certainly should have done so.

when he went out that he should not be long.' I understand he has a very large practice?' 'Very. And he is particularly busy just

now.'

as he

Two days afterwards, late in the afternoon, 'A most enviable profession, his,' remarked Eliza came to me in my bedroom with a glowing Mr Allardyce, gazing round the room face and handed me a gentleman's card: REV. spoke. To soothe pain-to relieve sufferingWENTWORTH ALLARDYCE, Oakwood Vicarage.' to awaken hope-I can imagine few things more 'It's my dear master-my dear late master, delightful to a man whose heart is in his I mean, ma'am,' she said, looking quite over-work.' joyed. He was in London, and he called to see how I was getting on; and he would like to speak to you, ma'am, if you are not engaged.' I went down to the drawing-room willingly enough. Eliza had often told me about this Mr Allardyce, who had been very kind to her; and I was really glad to see any one who was interested in so excellent a servant.

The clergyman was a handsome man of about thirty-five, with dark vivacious eyes and a pleasant smile. He was got up in the most correct style of High Church costume, with long straight coat, buttonless waistcoat, a round collar, a cross suspended to his watch-chain, and a flat felt hat.

'Mrs Lester, I believe,' he said, coming forward most courteously. I trust you will not think I have taken a liberty in calling to see a domestic who served me faithfully for three years, and in whom I shall always take a sincere interest.'

'I am very glad to see you, Mr Allardyce,' I said.

And I assure you it gives me great pleasure to make the acquaintance of a lady of whom I have heard so much. Eliza often writes to me, and is eloquent in her praises of you, and her gratitude for your kindness.'

'She is a very good girl,' I said.

'She is a good girl-a thoroughly good girl conscientious and sincere,' he answered, as if he felt pleased at my praise. As an inmate of my household she was admirable in every particular. I also had the pleasure of preparing her for her confirmation. That being the case, I was naturally anxious not to lose sight of her when she came to London.'

'She has often spoken of you to me, Mr Allardyce. She often praises your beautiful garden, and the pretty meadows near your vicarage. We poor Londoners envy you your privileges.'

'Yet this is a delightful part of London,' he said, with a glance out of the window.

"O yes, we like it very well. Only the summer is coming on, and we naturally yearn for the country. The parks are a poor substitute for it.'

'My garden is beginning to look very pretty now. You and Dr Lester must really run down to Oakwood-it is only an hour's journey from town-and gather strawberries for yourselves, and taste our country cream. I can promise you these simple pleasures at least, and a game at tennis. I should like you to see my roses." "Thank you; you are very kind.'

'Is Dr Lester at home? I hope I shall have the pleasure of making his acquaintance before I leave.'

'I expect him in every minute. He said

Eliza-all smiles and delight-now entered with afternoon tea, and while she handed it round in her peculiarly deft and pleasant way, Mr Allardyce talked to her.

'Your mistress says she is very fond of the country, Eliza, and some day she is coming to Oakwood, to eat strawberries and cream and sit under the trees.'

'Oh, how nice, sir!' cried Eliza.

'I think she would admire the roses. You remember that large bush in the middle of the lawn? The frost killed that in the winter.' 'Did it, sir? Oh, I am so sorry!'

'And poor old Nat Welsh, my gardener, is dead. Oh, and Mrs Allardyce told me not to forget to tell you that the Sunday-school is most flourishing. There are a hundred and-yes, a hundred and twenty children in it now.-I hope you keep up your good habits, Eliza, and go regularly to church, and read your Bible as you used to do at Oakwood?'

At that moment I heard my husband's latchkey in the door, and I stepped out into the hall. Mr Allardyce is here, and is anxious to see you,' I said, as he came in; and added, sotto voce, he is such a nice man! Do come and speak to him.'

Charlie followed me into the drawing-room, where Mr Allardyce gracefully came forward, while Eliza removed the tea-things. And then ensued a delightful chat of about an hour's duration. To give even an outline of the conversation would take too long; but I remember that we touched upon a great number of topics. Our guest seemed to have travelled much, both in England and on the continent; and he related some very amusing experiences for our entertainment. I could see Charlie was delighted with him.

'Are you making a long stay in town, Mr Allardyce?' he asked, as the hall-clock struck

six.

'No; my time is not my own, and I must return to-night.'

'We should be most happy to offer you a bed.'

'Thank you; you are very kind; but I promised Mrs Allardyce I would return to-night. She gets nervous in my absence, and imagines burglars and all sorts of horrors.'

'But you will stay and dine with us? Our hour is six.'

'Thank you; I should like to do so very much, if I can manage not to miss the half-past nine o'clock train at Waterloo, which I said I should return by.'

"I can promise that; I will send you in my brougham,' said my husband. And then Eliza came to say that dinner was on the table; and we went into the dining-room.

The meal was a very pleasant one, for our A knock at the door, and my husband opened guest exerted himself to be agreeable. We were it an inch or two to be informed by the both charmed with him. housemaid: 'Please, sir, you're wanted in the surgery.'

'You will excuse my remarking what very fine specimens of antique plate you have on your sideboard, Dr Lester,' said Mr Allardyce, when we were sitting at our modest dessert. 'I flatter myself that I am a connoisseur in old silver; and I never saw more splendid

designs.'

I confess I am rather proud of them,' said my husband, highly gratified, as he always was when anybody alluded to his hobby. Would you like to examine them?'

Our visitor rose with a graceful bow and smile to me, and went to the sideboard, where he handled the cups with evident appreciation. 'How massive they are! and how beautifully ornamented! I suppose they are Jacobean?'

'The date of the tankard is 1684; the cups are five years older,' said my husband, who was learned in Hall-marks, and knew the date of every piece of plate we possessed. (It may not be generally known that by means of letters, which represent figures, the precise date of any piece of Hall-marked silver may be ascertained.)

'Very fine indeed,' said Mr Allardyce. Even my neighbour, Lord Fitzgeorge, has nothing better. What a massive salver! Your coat of arms in the centre, I suppose?'

'Yes. All these things belonged to my grandfather. Since you so much appreciate such things, Mr Allardyce,' said my husband in a state of high gratification, 'I should like to show you a few other specimens I possess. I have a Queen Anne tea-service-genuine Queen Anne, dated 1712-which has been admired very much. We do not keep it in every-day use, and indeed we never leave more silver out than is absolutely necessary, on account of thieves. I will show you my plate-room and what I have there. But won't you take another glass of wine?'

'No, thank you,' said Mr Allardyce eagerly. 'I should so much prefer to see your plate. I have quite a passion for old silver.'

'Edith, dear, you have the keys,' said my husband. If you will go and unlock the door, we will follow you.'

I

It was still broad daylight, being June. went up-stairs and unlocked the doors, and then the two gentlemen came in. Our visitor was delighted as one thing after another was brought out. Charlie had never had such an appreciative critic before.

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A most beautiful and valuable collection,' said the clergyman after he had examined everything. 'But do you think it safe to keep so much plate in an ordinary dwelling-house?'

'You see

'Oh, perfectly,' said my husband. the bars on the window; and the doors are always kept locked. Besides, any one who incautiously touched the press must ring this bell,' he added, showing where it was and how to avoid ringing it. 'I suppose you have locks of complicated construction?'

'Very. Where are your keys, Edith ?-See, Mr Allardyce. This is the key for the inner door, and that for the outer. You perceive they are of very peculiar make, and they are never allowed out of my wife's possession.'

It was always the way when we had visitors. Charlie went rather reluctantly; and I had scarcely turned to Mr Allardyce to say I was sorry my husband had been called away, and I hoped his patient would not detain him long, when I heard Eliza's voice at the door, saying: 'If you please, ma'am, may I speak to you a minute?'

I asked Mr Allardyce to excuse me, and went out into the passage.

CHRISTMAS-TIDE.

On, how the aged faces glow
Around the cheerful fire to-night,
While whispering lover bending low
Thrills 'neath the smile of shy delight
That ripples o'er the gentle face,

Whose modest beauty charms him so,
And tempts him with its winning grace
To kiss it 'neath the mistletoe!

Pass round the bowl of sparkling wine;
Our toast shall be that happy pair;
May kindly fortune round them twine

Love's fairy garland; may they share
The joys that loving hearts may boast,
Unspoiled by envy, greed, or pride!
May they recall our hearty toast
With grateful joy each Christmas-tide!

Fill up once more, ye jovial band!

Our store is not exhausted yet;
Our best we place at your command;
And doubt not that our sole regret
Is that we cannot more bestow

On friend and kindred gathered here,
With looks that set our hearts aglow,

While sharing this our humble cheer!

Blithe hearts are bounding here and there,
In merry time to dancing feet;
Bright eyes are shining everywhere,

Where honest hands in friendship meet!
Sweet baby faces laugh between ;

White frosty beard, and hoary head,
Still shimmering through the silvery sheen,
As peep through snow the berries red!

The streets are cold, our hearth is warm;
Come, little waif, and be our guest!
Seek not to hide thy shivering form;
Our Christmas will be richly blest
When o'er thy wistful face shall steal
The smile of heavenly gratitude,
Which consecrates the festive meal
However coarse, however rude!

Ring on, ring on, ye joyous bells!

Ten thousand grateful hearts respond ;
For while your rapturous music swells,
'King Christmas' waves his magic wand
Above the loving hearts that greet

Each other round the ingle-side-
Blest birth of love, and friendship sweet,
Oh, happy, happy Christmas-tide!
FANNY FORRESTEL
Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Pater-
noster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH

All Rights Reserved.

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