wild, impotent threats, which were all equally disregarded, till, by degrees, feeling and perception failed him, and he heard no one. He fell senseless at the bottom of the engine, but, even then, his inanimate body continued to be whirled round as before; for Hanchen did not dare to trust appearances in such a villain, and would not venture to suspend the working of the mill, nor stop the mill gear and tackle from running at their fullest speed.

At length she heard a loud knocking at the door, and flew to open it. It was her master and his family, accompanied by several of his neighbours, all in the utmost consternation and wonder at seeing the mill-sail in full swing on a Sunday, and still more so when they found the poor child lying bound on the grass, who, however, was too terrified to give any account of what had happened. Hanchen, in a few words, told all; and then her spirit, which had sustained her through such scenes of terror, gave way under the sense of safety and relief, and she fell fainting in their arms, and was with much difficulty recovered. The machinery of the mill was at once stopped, and the inanimate ruffian dragged from his dreadful prison. Heinrich, too, was brought forth from the miller's chamber, and both were in a short time sent bound under a strong escort to Bonn, where they soon after met the reward of their crimes.

The story of this extraordinary act of presence of mind concludes by telling us that Hanchen, thus effectually cured of her penchant for her unworthy suitor,

became eventually the wife of the miller's eldest son, and thus lived all her life in the scene of her imminent danger, and happy deliverance.

MRS. GARNAUT.

BY WENDELL PHILLIPS.

MRS. GARNAUT was the second daughter of William and Ann Jones, and born at Swansea, Wales, on the 8th day of April, 1810. While she was at school, near Bath, her parents died, leaving to her care an elder sister then sinking in consumption, and a brother and three sisters younger than herself. To these she was father, mother, brother, and sister, watching over their interests and devoted to their welfare till years separated them to various fortunes. Subsequently she married Richard Garnaut, the son of a French emigrant, a mechanic of great taste and ability. They came immediately to America, and finally settled in Boston, where, not three years after her marriage, she lost her busband and eldest child. Left alone, with her infant, in a strange land, without means and with few friends, she manifested the same energy and trustfulness, the same putting aside of all regard for her own comfort and profit, which made her last years so efficient and beautiful.

After an interval, she connected herself with the Moral Reform Society of Boston, and laboured in its cause many years; and when worn out by the varied efforts which her restless benevolence added

to the care and confinement of the office she held, became the matron of the Home, established in Albany-street, for the shelter of orphan and destitute children. Exhausted by watching over the two infants of a woman who had died of cholera, with no hope of saving them, but with all the tenderness of a mother's love, she fell herself a victim to the disease, on Monday, the 3d of September, aged thirtynine years.

This is the outline of a long life crowded into few years.

The societies with which she was connected were devoted to special objects: not so her heart. Her ceaseless activity made light of cares which were enough for the whole strength and the whole twelve hours of others; and found leisure to seek out and relieve all kinds of distress. Hers was practical doing of good, and no service was too humble for her to perform. Children left in cellars by drunken parents, and brought to her so loathsome and diseased that other benevolent institutions, though rich in municipal bounty, refused to take them in, she received, not to give to domestics, (she had none,) but to wash, tend, care, and serve herself. Women and young persons for whom John Augustus could find no shelter elsewhere, he carried, without a doubt, to her; and in those many cases where a woman's influence and aid are indispensable, Mrs. Garnaut was his adviser and companion.

To the forsaken victim of seduction or temptation she has again and again given up her own room

and bed, hoping that, if under her eye, she could strengthen their faltering resolution, and give them back to reconciled families. Again and again deceived, she has gone on with loving patience, and been rewarded at last with abundant success. Women ruined by love of drink, and passing almost all their time in the House of Correction, fled to her for refuge from themselves; and lived usefully and virtuously after struggles and falls which would have tired out any heart and any faith but hers. In many towns are little ones whom her exertions have saved from utter neglect, or the worse influence of abandoned parents, and provided with homes and instruction. Insane girls, for whom she has found one shelter after another, from which morbid suspicions would drive them, always came back to her, and rested content while under her roof. The morning after her death it was pitiful to behold the bitter grief of homeless and friendless persons, gathered by the news, who felt they had lost both parent and friend. She died watching over what all saw were the deathbeds of children, from which so many fled, whose parents she had never seen and in this her death was the exact type of a life given, so much of it, to those who from vice or extreme youth could not repay her even with gratitude.

A young woman, she put aside all thoughts of herself, or danger to herself, in reaching any she sought to save. Strong in a good purpose, she entered fearlessly, alone, the most abandoned haunts of vice, ventured on shipboard at night, to snatch a victim

from certain ruin; and, plain in speech, feared neither station nor wealth in her rebuke.

Wherever Mrs. Garnaut was, might be said to be the vanguard of benevolent effort. Was her society devoted to children, still she could not shut her door to want, even in adults. Many years of devoted labour had made her known to a large circle of friendless beings, and in every new trouble they fled to her.

While engaged in moral reform she did as much for the intemperate, and gave her nights to sick chambers, where, save her unwearied love, none but the physician ever entered. Before the most loathsome disease, in the presence of the most resolute vice, neither her faith nor her love ever faltered. When others thought they had done enough to give up, she still persevered, forgiving seventy times seven; and the poor wanderer seemed to feel that there was one heart that would never be closed against her, and in every passing hour of virtuous resolution sought her, with full assurance of sympathy and aid, like a Ichild who knows that a mother's heart will never cease to hope and in many cases was her faith sustained. Much, doubtless, was owing to the fascination of a manner recognised by every one who came within its influence. It was the fitting expression of a heart overflowing with love for every human being.

Her own means, the little presents to her child, the compensation paid her, were used to enable the institution she controlled to go on; and they were