child; then a few bars of music copied out in his handwriting, some withered flowers, and lastly a note, the only note she had ever received from him. It was very short- "6 My dear Ruth-I have just come home, and am sorry to hear your father is ill, I will go and see him to-morrow if I can. Tell him from me to keep up his spirits till then. Yours There was no

occasion for Ruth to But still she glanced would allow. It was

very sincerely, Archibald North." read it over again; she had it by heart long ago. over it once more, as well as the fast fading light for the last time; it must be destroyed. There is a true saying that things are according to what we think them to be. The flower that was to the French prisoner like a visitation from a new world, that he watched early and late, that he talked to and learned from, was something very different from what it was to an ordinary person. And so the note that Ruth held in her hand, commonplace as it might be to everyone else, was very dear to her-dear, because it recalled to her mind the image of him who was in her eyes the embodiment of all that was true, and noble, and good-dear, because those lines were traced by him, and because they breathed something of his spirit. But that must be all forgotten now; that page of her life—the page that was filled with him-must be turned over, though it was agony and grief to do so, though it might wound her to the very heart's core. Another minute, another wistful, hasty glance, another loving touch, and the note was lying at her feet torn into a thousand fragments; the paper on which the music was written met with a like fate; and then the flowers, poor faded things, that had once been, when he gave them to her, bright, fresh, and beautiful, were crumbled between her hands, and then thrown to the winds, to be scattered at their pleasure. She remembered the kind words-the loving words, as she had fancied-that he said when he gave them to her; how pleased, how excited, she had been. And now that these poor memorials of that happy day were destroyed, she felt sorry for them, she wished them back again, till the thought of Beatrice occurred to her, and she wished it no longer. The brooch alone remained, and she could not bring herself to break it or to throw it away, so she remained holding it in her hand, irresolute what to do with it, when the sound of a step at the door made her hastily replace it in the box from which it had been taken.

"Ruth, Ruth," cried Lizzie's voice, accompanied by a series of knocks, "why on earth don't you come down to tea? They're all asking Let me in-let me in, and I'll tell you the greatest news you ever heard in your life."

for you.

"I don't feel inclined for tea-I would rather not go down this evening," said Ruth, opening the door.

"My dear child," said Lizzie, throwing herself into a chair, "you'll go down fast enough when I tell you what I have to say.

What do

you think

Beatrice, our cousin Beatrice, is actually and truly engaged

to Archibald North-that old man, old to her, at least!" "Is she?" said Ruth.

"Is that all you have to say? Why I was so amazed, I couldn't recover myself for half an hour. What she can be thinking of, I can't imagine. She, who might make such a splendid match, actually sitting down at one-and-twenty to be a quiet country doctor's wife. However, chacun à son gout-it wouldn't be mine, I know, though he may be wonderfully good, and clever, and all that sort of thing."

"What does papa say?"

"Oh, he's delighted, of course, says Beatrice is quite right, and that she's a girl after his own heart. I shouldn't wonder if the wedding would be here, what fun we should have, especially if cross-grained mother-step was out of the way. We should be two of the bridesmaids. Let me see what dresses I should choose-white grenadines, white cloaks and bonnets, with pink or green-or perhaps they would let us wear veils. There, I think that would be a very pretty costume, and very becoming, too. I wonder if old Tabby Tabiteau would come out in a new gown. She ought to, I'm sure, for I'm quite sick of that old grey thing. I think she got it for Archibald's christening."

"Run down, Lizzie, now, and say that I would rather not have any tea."

"Just as you please, but I think you're a great fool, not to come and see the fun. It is the best joke in the world to see those twoBeatrice, extraordinary deluded girl, so shy and nervous, but quite pleased with her conquest, and Archibald North, looking so absurdly happy his face is actually quite radiant. I've heard of the lion in love, but I never thought to see anything like it before. Did you ever think he seemed to have any particular fancy for Beatrice?"

"No," answered Ruth.

"Well it seems he had, ever since she came here, and now that she is going to take him, he is completely metamorphosed. I never saw such a change in any one. I could hardly believe it was sober, quietgoing Archibald North, that I have been looking at all my life. He is overflowing with amiability, and as to the way he looks at Beatrice, it's enough to make any one die of laughing. Do come down, Ruth." "No, thank you. Run down, Lizzie."

Ruth remained after Lizzie had left her for a long time with her face buried in her hands. She was beginning to realise it all now—she was beginning to feel what had really happened—the iron was slowly and surely entering into her soul.

50

CO-OPERATION.

THERE is nothing more unsatisfactory than reflecting on the numerous indisputably wise proverbs, saws, and sayings handed down as precious heirlooms and observing how little practical use we make of them. Words and appearances have had, and probably for a considerable time will continue to have, an obedient crowd of patient conservative followers, who confidingly listen to empty syllables, and fix their eyes with incurious glance on an accustomed external show of things. Few of us would venture on the rank blasphemy of denying the inherent truth of these noted dictums. Yet do we not constantly deny them in our "Conduct of Life." Their wordy jingle has been familiar to us from infancy-their spirit and philosophy almost a dead letter. To few, very few of us is it permitted to seize the underlying strength and worth, and make them our own for life's purposes-the charmed sword with which to clear a road to fortune and success. Thoroughly to understand and appreciate the strength and worth of a thing, though a giant step on the happy road, is unfortunately, with too many, but a first, and final, stage. The great and doubtful query always being what use will we make of hearty convictions and maxims of prudence on our journey. We start hopefully and cheerfully, with unbounded faith in some wise inherited talisman which we have taken as our guiding star. But soon against the rough waylaying obstacles our shield, with its blazoned crest, gets battered, inconvenient, and is thrown away. We have gone out armed, but wanting persistence and skill to use our weapons. What is, for instance, more continually in our ears continually exemplified most convincingly before our eyes than that old fable of the bundle of sticks, "Union is Strength." From the history of a nation to a game at chess, we wonderingly behold the magic power of that time-honoured dictum. Viewing the matter in a higher light it is strictly enjoined by our creed. How comes it, then, we are so loath to practise what in a spiritual and material sense we are all ready to admit is capable of yielding rich fruit? The cause is not far to seek. Jealousy, weakness, and all other imperfectness, wage a Titan war against faint and uncertain strivings. Only under the sharpest teachings of adversity-in the presence of the most imminent danger-does mankind become aroused to great facts, and hasten under the sheltering wings of great truths.

Co-operation, which every one knows is a working or banding together, until recently has been for the higher classes in this country rather a curious study for a few political economists, than a great working fact, vitally affecting us socially. We have been content to

hear startling reports through the medium of statistics, pamphlets, and Social Science gatherings, of what has been accomplished in far-away districts, never dreaming the day was so close at hand for our testing the marvellous panacea. A most strange consideration is that the great lesson has been taught us from below. A consideration highly suggestive, and deserving careful notice in the present critical position of affairs, political and social. Generally, teachings of the people are rough and little discriminative, if instructive and beneficial in the upshot-a curative dose when disease unchecked has reached a flagrant height. Were a proof wanting of the shrewdness, moderation, and sound sense pervading the superior working classes-England's backbone-we might well point to their recognition and successful practice of co-operation. It should be a source of the warmest satisfaction, that we have received from them a lesson indicative of peace and prosperity.

Hardly too much can be said condemnatory of waste-the besetting, most obstinate disorder, for all classes in all countries. We may fitly view it as the pivot whereon turn evils innumerable. The detection is comparatively easy, the only method of cure most hard, for the remedy can only be found in what is to most of us a bitter pill-" self-denial." A great deal has been said, and with truth, of the prodigious misexpenditure of the lower classes in England, and statistics have been issued from time to time, showing the vast sums thrown away each week in our great towns by working men on spirits and tobacco.

In one of the "Manuals for the Working Classes," edited by Mr. W. Chambers, and published some seven or eight years ago, it is stated

Mr. Samuel Smiles, in his work on Workmen's Earnings, says that in Manchester alone, with all its tokens of advanced taste, it has been estimated that about a million a year is expended by working people upon drink; in Glasgow about the same amount; in Newcastle about £400,000; and in Dundee, £250,000.

In the face of such astounding facts, we are in the habit of raising up our hands in horror-yet ever failing to see in the terrible revelation only a gross form of waste. We are not surprised at the heedless way of living all around us in our class-the omnipotence of that disastrous Moloch, credit. Superior education and refinement forbid our squandering means in the rude and deleterious form of spirits and tobacco, but in myriad other forms, for myriad unessential purposes, we spend lavishly, and set but a poor example of careful providence. Future financial crises-the rainy days of the better classes-are seldom provided for; and the culpable habit of living from hand to mouth, which we so severely censure in the lower grades of society, obtains to an extraordinary extent. For many years past, Speculation, like a Will-o'-the-wisp,

has been busy with his attractive and mischievous false fire, and lately we have seen a very general and deplorable plunge into the swamps. A sharp pinching of the pecuniary shoe was the natural consequence-so sharp that all petty pride vanished, and with a united voice society vehemently protested against the old rotten régime under which for centuries past they had been contentedly living. Going to the pith of the matter, it is rather amusing to note exclamations of astonishment at the miraculous awakening of intelligence, which tells us the very novel truth that it is an utter absurdity to pay more for anything than it is worth. On no subject recently discussed has more nonsense and illogical rhodomontade been talked than on that of cooperation. Merely regarding the question from a commonsense point of view, which, after all, is not very far removed from the "political economy" point of view-we can never for a moment suppose people will stultify themselves by selecting the dearest market to buy in when under their very noses a cheaper one has been created. The English people having benefited signally, after a long and doubtful contest, by the introduction of free trade, are tardy in seeking to fully develop the grand principle.

Like most other inventions and discoveries, time is required for the purpose, for those sections of the community whose interests for awhile must suffer in the further extensions are naturally staunch enemies to progress. Since everything is fair in war, puerile reasoning and wild indignation must be permitted at stormy protection-meetings where venerable heads of provision firms denounce the new movement, and prophesy destruction to society if three-pence in the shilling be saved. The foolishness of such protestations and their easy confutation is well illustrated by an anecdote just published in the newspapers. A certain bacon-dealer having undersold his brother tradesmen, was told by them he was selling at a price no man could afford to sell at. "In that case," replied the offender, "let me sell on in peace without any bullying or rattening, and I shall soon be ruined." Until present irritation be somewhat allayed it would be useless endeavouring to demonstrate how things will again right themselves; that articles being placed within reach of a poorer class of purchasers, and more extensively used by present purchasers, will ere long, vastly increase consumption, and so make the wide-spread small profits equal and exceed the old limited extortionate profits. We all know, as a matter of history, how English operatives kicked against machinery coming into vogue, how the irontoiler is now blessed as a benefactor. So again, when the Metropolitan Underground Railway was opened, omnibus proprietors groaned aloud as ruined men. The sequel proved they continued to have as much and more to do. Water will find its level. With as great certainty, as irresistibly will prices and articles now arrange themselves.