Though this was said in a whisper, a third lady had heard every word that passed, and advancing towards the apparently best informed of the two speakers, said: "Excuse me, ladies, but is it possible that Paul Strangeways is not the eldest son?"

"Certainly not," replied the lady, "only they always put him forward as the eldest-but don't say I mentioned it—and of course he will ultimately inherit the property, considering his brother's condition."

The questioner turned pale: "It strikes me that the property is entailed," said she.

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Possibly," returned the lady carelessly; "if so, Paul will, perhaps, have a long time to wait, before he becomes rich-for lunatics seem to live for ever, as if out of spite."

And having uttered this wise saying, she thought no more about it. But her words had not fallen on a barren soil-they were destined to bring forth bitter fruits. Mrs. Prudence, the questioner, had not inquired into the matter out of mere idle curiosity. Young Strangeways was paying his addresses to her daughter, and the latter (who by the bye had not accompanied her mother to the dinner) was inclined to favour his suit. But the double drawback of madness in the family, and the entail, made the far-seeing mamma think it a duty to break off the match. And this she proceeded to do the very next day, by frightening her daughter with the alarming prospect of Paul's becoming a lunatic, and forthwith spiriting her away to make a tour on the Continent, and forget all about her ill placed inclination.

Of course Paul remonstrated by letter (for she had carefully avoided letting the Strangeways family know to what part of the Continent they had gone, and only her lawyer knew her address), but his intended merely replied that it was for the best they should not meet again; while Mrs. Prudence wrote a rather stinging letter to Mrs. Strangeways, observing that a sense of honour ought to have impelled her husband and self to have mentioned the terrible affliction that hovered over their house. It was in vain that an explanation was volunteered by Mr. Strangeways, sen., who stated that it was a son by his first wife (herself subject to fits of lunacy) who was born an idiot; and that his present wife's father, so far from having died mad, was a scientific man of great intellect, still living in the West Indies; and that consequently Paul could have no hereditary taint of madness to fear. Deep offence had been given, angry expressions exchanged, the young folks had grown estranged; and thus two hearts that might have been happy and united had each to go a different way to seek for some other partner through life, who probably never replaced what each had lost; and all this blight from idle words, spoken at random by one who repeated what she had picked up, without stopping to inquire whether there was even the shadow of a foundation for such assertions. O scandal mongers! what a deal you have to answer for!

A WELSH GATHERING.

"For modes of faith let graceless bigots fight,

His can't be wrong, whose life is in the right."

POPE.

"WAST ever at court, shepherd?" asks Touchstone of his gaping auditor, and assures him that if he has never been, his is a "perilous state" indeed. Gentle reader, have you ever seen, or, as say our French neighbours, "assisted at," a Welsh Association? If not, allow me to assume the office of chief initiator into the mysteries of a scene which, for mingled fun and pathos, has no equal. But first just a few words in preface.

Within the last ten years open-air preaching has become fashionable in England, and of its very great utility too much cannot be spoken. Good men and true, faithful servants to the Great Master, have looked forth upon the world, that great seething cauldron in which for ever the gloomy contents of want, sin, misery, sorrow, death, do "double and trouble," and have seen that as long as preaching is confined to Church or Chapel alone, much real good among the lowest classes could not be hoped for. Though the House of God is supposed to be the common vantage ground upon which the creatures of His kind care meet upon equal footing, though we hug unto ourselves the comforting idea, together with other ideas no less comfortable and no less fallacious, that as long as the "meeting-house" doors remain open, men and women will duly attend, we commit a grievous mistake.

Enter, for instance, either a church in one of the populous parishes of London, or a chapel in the most influential dissenting town, and what do you behold there? Not the pariah of society, not the waif and stray, who lives on from day to day utterly hopeless of the future, and little knowing, poor soul, where to-morrow's food may come from; not the sorrow-stained wanderer of the streets, with paint-smeared cheek and hollow eye. Nay, of this kind are assuredly not the worshippers: but those to whom the expression "well-to-do" may be justly applied, and who listen to the preacher's glorious words with snug complacency, with no dread fear of the ghastly phantom whom men fear as Poverty, and who take the preaching, the singing, and the service, as a species of entertainment provided by compliment for their weekly amusement; who go to church to yawn, stare, criticise; from thence, home to criticise the more, and affably discuss over their sherry the relative merits of the Rev. Boanerges Brimstone, and the Ven. Archdeacon Treacleaffirming mayhap of the former, that he "nearly frightened me out of

my wits, sir, begad, with his howling and threats of perdition, objectionable style of man is your blatant preacher"—while to the latter they pay the tribute of praise, in that he frightened them not, but spake honied words and kept them waiting but the fashionable quarter of an hour. Fully foreseeing then, that in-door worship would not answer the effect of making men think seriously, several of our mighty orators, “brilliant and shining lights" in the Church, went forth and preached in the theatres, in the corners of the streets, upon quays, amongst the shipping—anywhere, in fact, where the poor, who could not enter churches for their ragged, filthy attire, were likely to assembleand, at the same time, held meetings in the dead of night, whither were invited the daughters of sin, who throng the gas-lit pavements of London. How far this answered I cannot take upon myself to say, nor were I even furnished with statistics would I impose them on the reader, the purpose of this paper being to amuse, not to bore; though, seriously, one cannot be always trifling and joking, you know. This is a world of sober reality, not dreamy fiction, and if we do not sometimes put the question, "Quo tendimus?" it may fare hard with us at the last. The end will, must come, the hollow uselessness of Vanity Fair fade slowly away, the pipe and tabor and drum be no more heard in the streets. Sooth too, the time will come, when the guest shall open the fringed dinner napkin, and find therein a skull; shall quaff the goblet of Burgundy, and find that he has drunk blood. "Two women shall be grinding at a mill; the one shall be taken, the other left. The pitcher shall be broken at the well; sounds of woe shall be heard in the deserted city." Fuit Troja. There was a city once called Rome. There was a general once called Alexander. There was a canny king once known as Solomon. "To this end shall we come."

"Bah! why should you preach? why should you sermonize? are you better than the rest of us?" sneers some kind friend. Why indeed, save that a word sometimes dropped from the lips of a fool may save a wiser man; besides 'tis mighty pleasant to preach; and instruct, you apply a salve to good conscience, an opiate to lull its sting to sleep for a season. "Ay, there's the rub," even Hamlet the Dane, with his yellow locks and sad beautiful face, in considering the mystery of life, understood it till the finis came, and then he was at fault with his philosophy.

Ah, well may we strive, hand and heart may we strive, to keep this inward monitor of ours pretty clear. Let us conduct ourselves well and decently to our neighbours: when Hagar crouches down with her perishing darling 'neath the burning glaring sun to die, may our hand tender the cup of cold water; may we try and practise a little charity in common life, and not pass by the miserable "upon the other side," but Samaritan-like kneel down and administer the balm of healing words, and who knows but that it may be well with us at the last.

And all this time not a word of the subject on hand! I wonder if anything will cure me of the habit of digression. Habit they say, you

know, fixes a firm hold on its miserable victim, and my yoke seems no light one. I have been flying off at a tangent from fortune since the day that gave me birth, and instead of contenting myself decorously with the highroad, have wandered, like unto a vagabond, into the lanes and bye-ways, whence it is to be feared I have culled not too much good.

After having spent about three months in the pleasant little Welsh hamlet of Aberdyffy, where I had elected to pass the "Long" in a praiseworthy though somewhat futile effort to get up the necessary amount of "cram," that I might meet good Alma Mater's Inquisitors with a clear conscience, I at length found the place getting intolerably slow. Not that there was ever much novelty in it. The few people there acted just as people do in all places of the world. I had exhausted all the resources of the little retirement; had endeavoured but with shady result, to get up a Cricket Club amongst the lads of the village; had pretended an unusual fervour and interest in the singing schools; had risen early, and wandered late, to whip the purling brooklet with the hard name, and succeeded in pulling therefrom not many trout; had wasted my time in ardent flirtation with pretty Mary Wynne, mine host's daughter, in the which I am bound to say she had the advantage over me, seeing that I am but a sorry master of beaux yeux, and, have not the art of making "lovely woman" desperately fond of me. In company with the old innkeeper, I had listened to his interminable tales, chiefly concerning the power and doughtiness of his ancestors, varied by his own exploits during the period of green youth. I had made a species of grand tour round the island in a fishing smack and did not think much of the same, because when not frightfully sick I was always in danger of being drowned. Of all these delights had I drained the very dregs and was not satisfied. "Panen et Circences," was still my cry. My mind naturally philosophical, was not to be put off with trifles of this light sort. Besides, to crown all, the rain had commenced to assert its power, and the official, who is supposed to direct the water-works above, had turned in a liberal supply; and as rain is not particularly conducive to mad hilarity, especially in the sanded parlour of a country hostel, with a pond full of ducklings in front, "I only said 'I

Taking all this into consideration, I "concluded," as say our American friends, to leave the place of my retreat, and with this purpose fraught, made for mine host's daughter, who, seated by the fire, evidently was thinking of nought but the wonderful stocking she was engaged on. I hinted to the lady that my stay was about to approach its end, that in fact I should go the next day. Did her eyelash tremble; did her voice quiver, as she made answer? I thought so, but then I am vain some

times.

"You surely will not go this week, sir," said she; "you will lose the Association."

Never having heard of the term, I craved her pardon for my ignor

ance, and asked the meaning of this cabalistic word. She was too glad to explain of course.

"You know, sir, that father is a Methodist, and of course I go to meeting."

"And very proper," assented I with a grunt.

'Well, in times gone by when we had no chapels, and,, indeed, the cause itself was but small, the people had no means of attending to the preaching of our ministers but by meeting together, once a month, in some open-air place, and there they used to hold service. This has been kept up amongst us, since those good old days, and though we have chapels and plenty of accommodation now, they still hold these associations. You had better stay, sir," pleaded she, “I know you will be very pleased; and, besides, you will hear very excellent preachers," reckoning a whole string of them like beads on her finger.

Unable to resist her pleading eye, and not without a certain spice of curiosity to see one of these wonderful "associations," I changed my intention and stayed yet awhile. Soon did manifest tokens of the coming festival begin to make themselves visible. The little village seemed, in the words of that estimable hymn of Dr. Watts' ("the delight of our childhood, and our solace during age," as somebody calls them), to have shaken off dull sloth, and made desperate efforts at liveliness. The odour of viands cooking, "an' 'twere for the marriage feast," saluted my olfactory nerves agreeably all the day; vehicles seemed to be arriving without intermission to the little inn, conveying visitors, cleric and lay; loving couples on horseback, the husband in front, his better-half behind, trotted down the chief street; all the children, not knowing exactly what to make of it, set up a mighty shouting to express their satisfaction; while, from hidden drawers and " "presses," were produced wondrous pieces of finery calculated to astonish the beholder by their patterns. Ever and anon there would pass down the street a group of preachers, who, by their eloquence on the morrow, were to shake the village, looking now, sooth to say, as unclerical as the veriest laymen, and evidently liking their joke and their laugh as well as the most worldly. Nay, I actually discovered one lank-haired and youthful divine saying sweet nonsense, and evidently very pleasantly engaged with Mary Wynne. I looked at him with a bilious expression of face, and said "Go to now, young divine, with thy smooth hair and merry eye; is this the manner to teach people the way they should go?" Tush! perchance he meant no harm, so I was glad he did not understand my reviling. Besides, I do opine that the system is a radically incorrect one, which imposes upon the ministers of the Most High solemnity and asceticism in gait and conversation. No worse a Christian is a clergyman in my eyes, because he can run a "fiver" across the oval without panting, or ride straight in the ruck of the hounds across country. I do not see that because a man is a minister and attaches "Rev." to his name, that he should turn up his eyes, and turn down the corners of his mouth, and