position as the intended husband of his employer's daughter: and all these considerations served to goad his spirit. Oh! what a fearful passion is envy! and how constantly and sincerely should we offer up that petition which the Church in her wisdom has prescribed for the use of her children: "From envy, hatred and malice, and all uncharitableness, good Lord deliver us."

Woodville, being of a perfectly unsuspicious character, was some while, ere he detected the signs of Danville's hostile feeling towards him; and with all that charity which "thinketh no evil," endeavoured to quench the emotions which such an observation had begotten in his breast. Edward was really becoming more and more the object of respect and esteem, not only with his employers and to the mind of her who was to be his future companion in life, but to all the members of the circle into which he was introduced. His evenings, which for the most part were passed with the Compton family, or with some branches of their connexion,-evenings spent either in rational conversation, useful and interesting study, or innocent gaiety, always afforded pleasing reflection in the retrospect, and were anticipated with no small degree of delight.

Danville's leisure hours were spent far differently. His uncle, Mr. Newton, residing in a remote part of the sister Island, he was compelled to provide himself with lodgings in London; he obtained rooms in the city, but passed little of his time at home. When the business of the day was completed, he would wander forth, visit the theatre, the divan, the assembly-room, and other places of dissipated gaiety; after which he would return, jaded and wearied, to a short night of unwholesome slumber. While engaged in such pursuits, habits were contracted of a highly injurious nature, rendering him the sport of every unhallowed desire, and disqualifying him in a great measure, for the routine of his daily avocations. The amount of his lawful earnings was thus unlawfully expended, an immoral connexion formed, his health impaired, and the powers of his mind, and the faculties of his soul deranged and shattered.

"Fools make a mock at sin," said the proverbialist; and Frederick furnished a strict comment on the aphorism. The manner of passing his evening hours would afford him matter of conversation in the counting-house with Woodville, to whom he was necessitated occasionally to speak; and although, for fear of

creating in their minds a dislike to their clerk, Edward had kindly withheld from the merchants even the slightest hint of his habits and practices, he nevertheless hesitated not to express to the young man himself, his sense of regret at the improper course he was pursuing.

This remonstrance confirmed in the bosom of Danville his detestation of Edward, and he only waited for some opportunity of giving vent to his feelings of bitter and unjustifiable hostility, towards one who would have proved his best friend, as he had shown himself to be his most faithful counsellor,

CHAPTER XII.

"O Sir, to wilful men

The injuries that they themselves procure
Must be their schoolmasters."

SHAKSPEARE.

"He sees the native village where he dwelt
The house, the chamber where he knelt."

CRABBE.

IN one of the darkest and most dismal cells of the gaol of, sat a wretched criminal, waiting in agonizing suspense the arrival of his approaching day of trial; that criminal was Arthur Hutchinson.

It was the beautiful, joyous, and leafy month of June; all nature was free and gladsome; full blown roses sent forth their fragrant perfumes; the hills and valleys laughed for joy; "the time of the singing of birds had come, and the voice of the turtle was heard in the land;" the deep blue sky was reflected on many a

glassy stream; the summer's sun darted down his cheerful, animating rays by day, and the silvery moon sailed along the plains of heaven in her glory by night. Many hearts beat exultingly, many eyes beamed with pleasure; the voice of joy was heard rising from many a happy home; even the inferior creation took part in the general glow. The beast of the field rejoiced, and the tenants of the water sported with delight. The earth was filled with goodness; the heavens dropped down fatness. "Precious things were brought forth by the sun;" and lovely scenes were revealed by the moon.

And yet in the midst of all this gladness and beauty, this plenteousness and joy, a lonely, guilty man, is pining without the sun; a transgressor against the laws of his country is laid in "affliction and iron." To him the return of the lovely season brought nothing save the most bitter and terrible reflections, and more in accordance with his fearful state would have been the dark and dreary hours of gloomy winter; willingly would he relinquish the bright summers of his native land to enjoy once more his freedom (that greatest temporal blessing), though it were amid the sterile plains of a far off, desolate territory.