translation of the original! Then surely in such a doubtful position we should try to bear philosophically the smiles of some outside, who are not perhaps in an equally advanced state of doubt and discord and distrust.

But the vicar of Plimmouth Gum and his curate simplified matters amazingly : 'I have no doubt about it, not the least!' was very often on their lips. And in truth they were a law unto themselves, but not to one another—as the curate, I fear, has found to his cost. It happened thus:

On the first Tuesday in each month a meeting of the United-Prophecy-Interpretation-Association was held in the schoolroom at Plimmouth Gum, and on such occasions the reverend the vicar usually sat in the chair and took the lead; some said that he took everything into his own hands, and that no one else took any part in the proceedings. On the first Tuesday, however, in the last month that I spent at Plimmouth Gum the vicar was obliged to attend a great public meeting at the town of Eketer, which had been called by the executive committee of the Watch and Pray Society, to oppose the election of the bishop of the diocese as patron of the Diocesan Church Building Association. Thus it came to pass that, in the absence of the vicar, the Reverend Mr. Peter Narrow occupied the chair at the monthly meeting of the United-Prophecy-Interpretation-Association.

Now whether by an unlucky accident (which I think probable), or whether from malice aforethought, I am unable positively to state, but certain it is that the curate selected for the consideration of the assembled expounders the very prophecy which (in his own absence) had been unravelled the month before by his vicar. After denouncing as false and presumptuous, aye, and preposterous, every other explanation of this particular passage, Mr. Narrow proceeded to give an interpretation of it directly and violently opposed to that which, at the preceding meeting, the vicar had commanded his hearers to accept as the only correct one, at the peril of their immortal souls.

Poor Peter! You perhaps could explain why some six or seven weeks after this unhappy event I chanced by accident on an advertisement in the 'Record,' headed 'Wanted, a Curacy,' and inserted (unless I am very much mistaken) by no other than your honest self.

I felt then how cruel a thing it was that the curate had no appeal to the all-powerful Privy Council-the panacea for clerical ills.

ROUGH DIAMONDS.

THERE is a certain class of people in the great English nation (of which I always speak and write with sentiments of the most profound respect) which society (that mighty engine, &c.) has seen fit to denominate rough diamonds.'

And at the very outset of these remarks I feel a strange misgiving as to whether I can do justice to my subject, because I must confess that I have never been able to entertain that deep veneration for any man who is brutally rude which society feels for her rough diamond. From which remark the astute reader will gather the purport of this paper.

Now it appears that foremost among the virtues of a rough diamond is the fact of his 'always saying what he thinks,' and this in all soberness I have repeatedly heard mentioned as a great attraction, a most commendable trait, in his character. He always says what he thinks!' that is to say, he never for a moment considers the feelings of those to whom he addresses himself so that, not content with the pleasing behaviour of an ordinary acquaintance, who of cours points out your little weaknesses behind your back

your rough diamond insults a man to his face in the presence of his kinsfolk and friends.

'He always speaks his mind!' that is to say, he never restrains himself from giving expression to his (it may be) crude and ill-formed judgment, though it may hurt the prejudices or jar upon the susceptibilities of many among his hearers.

'He always says what he means!' that is to say, he never hesitates to express his aversion to any little plan or project to which all the rest of his party are inclined.

'He always gives you a direct answer!' that is to say, he will say 'no;' and thus upset a little arrangement to which every one else would have said 'yes.'

ever met.

Bolt Straitway, an acquaintance of mine, is fairly well-known among his own circle as a rough diamond. I think him perhaps the most unpleasant man I The great charms of his character are an entire absence of consideration for the feelings of others, and a certain raw goodness of heart which prompts him to do many a kind action in a most ungracious manner. For instance, when his daughter's governess, Miss Jut, left his house, he told her before a large assemblage of his family and friends that he had drawn a cheque for twice the amount due to her, as it might be some time before she got another place.'

Indeed, it is in their own families and towards those who are dependent upon them that you see a rough diamond to the greatest advantage. Birk Spiggit married an old friend of mine, Lucy Honeysuckle. Poor child, there is little enough of honey in the cup which she has prepared for her own drinking, and which I suppose she will resignedly drink to the bitter dregs, unless some noble prince, as in the fairy tales, wil! rescue her from the castle of despair where she dwells with her grim giant, Rough Diamond. Even in that saddest of all human compilations—an accumulated list of marriages from the Times- I fancy that poor Lucy's fate would be conspicuous. She can scarcely have been caught by the glitter of her diamond, for it was not well set- nay, it was not even cut-and had never been to the Continent (say Amsterdam) to complete its education, and obtain its full value in the great English Marriage Market-that gay and dazzling mart, where so many thousand fresh bright hearts, which can never be redeemed on this side the grave, are pawned annually to meet the imperious demands of what Satan, in one of his brightest moments, taught mankind to call 'necessity.'

And now I feel that I am led away by my subject; I entertain a noble desire to enter upon this great question of necessity'-to show what is necessary to a happy marriage, and what unnecessary; to prove that not love, not confidence, not moderation, nor any of the