POPULAR YEAR-BOOK. June 23.-Midsummer Eve. THE observances connected with the nativity of St. John the Baptist commenced, says a recent journalist, on the previous evening, called, as usual, The Eve, or Vigil of the Festival, or Midsummer Eve. On that evening the people were accustomed to go into the woods, and break down branches of trees, which they brought to their homes, and planted over their doors, amidst great demonstrations of joy, to make good the Scripture prophecy respecting the Baptist, that many should rejoice in his birth. This custom was universal in England till the recent change in manners. "On the vigil of St. John Baptist," writes Stow in his Survey of London, "and on SS. Peter and Paul the Apostles, every man's door being shadowed with green birch, long fennel, St. John's-wort, orpin, white lilies, and such like, garnished upon with garlands of beautiful flowers, had also lamps of glass, with oil burning in them all the night; some hung out branches of iron curiously wrought, containing hundreds of lamps lighted at once.' This custom was designed to signify that St. John I was to be lantern of light to all people." Honest Master Stow also tells us that, upon Midsummer Eve, and the other "vigils of festival days," in June and July, "after the sunsetting, there were usually made BONFIRES in the streets, every man bestowing wood or labour towards them. The wealthier sort also before their doors, near to the said bonfires, would set out tables on the vigils, furnished with sweet bread, and good drink, and on the festival days with meats and drinks plentifully, whereunto they would invite their neighbours and passengers also to sit, and be merry with them, in great familiarity, praising God for his benefits bestowed on them." These "bonfires" appear to have been so named, because they were composed of contributions collected as boons, or gifts of social and charitable feeling. The custom of making them on Midsummer Eve has been practised in many nations, and is of remote antiquity. In medieval times it was designed to commemorate (as Durandus says) St. John the Precursor, who was a burning and shining light, and also to drive away dragons and evil spirits. Some writers have ascribed to it a Pagan origin. A learned Frenchman affirms that the "St. John's fire" was a Feu de Joie, "kindled the very moment the year began, for the first of all years, and the most ancient that we know of, began at this month of June. These Feux de Joie," he adds, "were accompanied at the same time with vows and sacrifices for the prosperity of the people, and the fruits of the earth. They danced also round this fire,for what feast is there without a dance?-and the most active leaped over it. Each, on departing, took away a firebrand, great or small, and the remains were scattered to the wind, which, at the same time that it dispersed the ashes, was thought to expel every evil. When, after a long train of years, the year ceased to commence at this solstice, still the custom of making these fires was continued by force of habit, and of those superstitious ideas that are annexed to it. Thus has the custom been continued and handed down to us." We have read how it was formerly observed by the Londoners. Barnabe Googe thus describes the manner of its general celebration in this country : "Bonfires great, with lofty flame, in every town do burn, And young men round about with maids do dance in every street, With garlands wrought of motherwort, or else with vervain sweet, And many other flowers fair, with violets in their hands, When thus till night they danced have, they through the fire amain, It has been affirmed that the leaping through or over the bonfires, alluded to in the above extract, is the oldest of all "known superstitions, and is identical with that followed by Manasseh." We learn that, till a late period, the practice was retained in Ireland. Borlase states that in Cornwall bonfires are kindled on the Eve of St. John Baptist and St. Peter's Day; and Midsummer is thence, in the Cornish tongue, called "Goluan," which signifies both light and rejoicing. At these fires the Cornish attend with lighted torches, tarred and pitched at the end, and make their perambulations round their fires, and go from village to village, carrying their torches before them. Brand relates that there was formerly a great bonfire on Midsummer Eve, on St. Stephen's Down, near Launceston, in the above county. A large summer pole was fixed in the centre, round which the fuel was heaped up. It had a large bush on the top of it. Round this parties of wrestlers contended for small prizes. "An honest countryman," says our author, "who had often been present at these merriments, informed me that at one of them an evil spirit had appeared in the shape of a black dog, since which none could wrestle, even in jest, without receiving hurt, in consequence of which the wrestling was, in a great measure, laid aside. The rustics there believe that giants are buried in these tumuli, and nothing would tempt them to be so sacrilegious as to disturb their bones." Sir Henry Piers, in 1682, observes that in Ireland, on the Eves of St. John Baptist and St. Peter, they always have in every town a bonfire, late in the evenings, and carry about bundles of reeds fast tied and fired. These, being dry, will last long, and flame better than a torch, and be a "pleasing, divertive prospect to the distant beholder; a stranger would go near to imagine the whole country was on fire." Another writer on the "Emerald Isle" remarks, "On Midsummer's Eve every eminence near which is a habitation blazes with bonfires, and round these they carry numerous torches, shouting and dancing." The Times newspaper of June 29, 1833, gives an account of a riot at Cork in consequence of some soldiers refusing to subscribe money towards the fires which were to be lighted on the vigil of St. John. It appears from Brand's collections that the Eton scholars formerly had bonfires on St. John's Day, and that such were recently, or still continue to be, made on Midsummer Eve in several villages of Gloucester and Devonshire, in the northern parts of England, and in Wales. "It was customary in towns," says a journalist before cited," to keep a watch walking about during the Midsummer night, although no such practice might prevail at the place from motives of precaution. This was done at Nottingham till the reign of Charles I." Every citizen either went himself or sent a substitute, and an oath for the preservation of peace was duly administered to the company at their first meeting at sunset. They paraded the town in parties during the night, every person wearing upon his head "a garland, made in the fashion of a crown imperial, bedecked with flowers of various kinds, some natural, some artificial, bought and kept for that purpose, as also ribands and jewels." At Chester also the annual "setting of the watch" (as it was called) on St. John's Eve was an affair of great moment, and continued for many years after the Great Rebellion. Part of the pageant on this occasion consisted of four giants, one unicorn, one dromedary, one camel, one dragon, and six hobby-horses, with other figures. In London, during the middle ages, the marching "watch," comprising not less than two thousand men, all in bright armour, paraded both on this night and on the eve of the feast of SS. Peter and Paul. This must certainly have been a splendid sight. In the procession were standard and ensign-bearers, | sword-players, trumpeters on horseback, archers in coats of white fustian. Their bows bent in their hands, with sheafs of arrows by their sides; pikemen in bright corslets, the waits of the city, and morris dancers, the lord mayor, and sheriffs, "pageants," giants, and con stables, each of whom wore a chain of gold, "his henchman following him, his minstrels before him, and his cresset light passing by him." These cressets, or torches, carried in barred pots on the tops of long poles, added to the bonfires in the streets, must have given the town a remarkable appearance in an age when there was no regular street-lighting. A London poet in 1616, looking back from that period, thus alludes to the spectacle: "The goodly buildings that till then did hide Adorn'd with shining gold and purple weeds, The civic custom mentioned in the last two of the above stanzas has been already described. Henry VIII., in 1510, went “into Cheape" disguised as a yeoman of the guard, to behold the marching watch on St. John's Eve, and was so well pleased with the ceremonial, that he came with Queen Catharine, and a noble retinue, to attend openly that on St. Peter's Vigil, a few nights after. This king, however, in the 31st year of his reign, prohibited this gorgeous pageant, probably from a dread of so great an array of armed citizens. It was revived in 1548 (for that year only) by Sir Thomas Gresham. lord mayor. This Eve seems to have been consecrated from the highest antiquity to the performance of mystic rites and some of the superstitions connected with it are of a highly fanciful nature. The Irish, we are told, believe that the souls of all persons on this night leave their bodies, and wander to the place, by sea or land, where death shall finally separate them from their earthly tabernacles. It is not improbable that this notion, and the opinion that to sleep on this vigil would ensure a wandering of the spirit, was originally universal, and was the cause of the wide-spread custom of watching or keeping awake on St. John's Eve; for we may well believe, observes a late writer, that there would be a general wish to prevent the soul from going upon that somewhat dismal ramble. In England, and perhaps in other countries also, it was believed that, if any one sat up fasting all this night in the church porch, he would see the spirits of those who were to die in the parish during the ensuing twelve months come to knock at the church door, in the order and succession in which they were to die. We can easily perceive a possible connexion between this dreary persuasion and that of the soul's midnight excursion. Grose relates that amongst a party who once sat up as above described, one fell into so sound a sleep that he could not be waked, and that whilst he was in this condition, his ghost, or spirit, was seen by his companions knocking at the sacred portal. The same antiquary states that it was supposed that if an unmarried woman, fasting on Midsummer Eve, laid a cloth at midnight with bread and cheese, and sat down as if to eat, leaving the street-door open, the person whom she was to marry would come into the room, and drink to her by bowing, after which, setting down the glass, with another bow, he would retire. It was usual on this vigil to gather certain plants which were supposed to have a supernatural character. Fern is one of those herbs which have their seed on the back of the leaf so small as to escape the sight. Our ancestors, from an extraordinary mode of reasoning, concluded "that they who possessed the secret of wearing this seed about them would become invisible." Young men would go out at midnight on St. John's Eve, and endeavour to catch some in a plate, but without touching the plant, an attempt which was often unsuccessful. Samuel Bamford, in his recentlypublished "Passages in the Life of a Radical," relates the following remarkable anecdote in relation to this practice, and states that he was told it by an actor in the events it records. A youth, named Bangle, of Old Birkley, was deeply enamoured of a young beauty, the daughter of a small farmer in the neighbourhood, and had been told by one Limping Billy, a noted seer residing at Radcliffe Bridge, that he had no chance of gaining power over the damsel unless he could take "St. John's fern seed," and, if he secured three grains of that, he might "bring to him whatever he wished that walked, flew, or swam." He agreed with two other persons, called Plant (Bamford's informant) and Chirrup, to gather the seed on Midsummer Eve; and accordingly, on the vigil in question, a little before midnight, the parties assembled in a deep valley, near the road to Manchester, ascending from Blackley, "greenswarded” and embowered in woods and plantations. The first word spoken was, "What hast thou !" "Mine is breawn an' roof," said Plant, in the Lancashire dialect, exhibiting a brown earthenware dish. "What hast thou?" he then asked. Mine is breet enough," said Chirrup, showing a pewter platter, and adding, What hast thou?" "Teed wi' web an' woof Mine is deep enough," 64 said Bangle, displaying a musty dun skull, with the cap sawn off above the eyes, and left flapping like a lid by a piece of tanned scalp, which still adhered. The interior cavities had also been stuffed with moss, and lined with clay kneaded with human blood; and the youth had secured the skull to his shoulders by a twine of three strands-of unbleached flax-of undyed wool,and of woman's hair; from which also depended a raven black tress, which a wily crone had procured from the maid he sought to obtain. "That will do," said a voice in a half whisper, from one of the low bushes they were passing. ward, if we turn now a spirit has spoken we are lost, Plant and Chirrup paused; but Bangle said, "Forwe are lost come on;" and they went forward. A silence like that of death was around them. Nothing moved either in tree or brake. Through a space in the foliage the stars were seen pale in heaven, and "a crooked moon hung in a bit of blue, amid motionless clouds." elements were aghast. Gasping, and with cold sweat All was still and breathless, as if earth, heaven, and the shake the fern with a forked rod of witch-hazel (this, and oozing on his brow, Plant recollected that they were to the other parts of this strange observance had been prescribed beforehand by Limping Billy), and by no means must touch it with their fingers; and he asked in a whisper, if the others had brought one. On learning to the contrary, he soon procured what was wanted. The fern," standing stiff and erect in a gleamy light," was now approached. "Is it deep nect (night)? said Bangle. "It is," answered Plant, They looked, and perceived by a glance that a venerable form, in a loose robe, was near them. Darkness came down "like a swoop." The fern was shaken; the upper dish flew to pieces; the pewter one melted; the skul emitted a cry, and eyes glared in its sockets; light broke; beautiful children were seen walking in their holiday clothes, and graceful female forms sang mournful and enchanting airs. The men stood terrified and fascinated and Bangle gazing, bade "God bless 'em." A crash followed; strange and horrid forms appeared from the thickets; the men ran as if sped on the wind "-they separated and lost each other. Plant, leaping a brook, east a glance behind him, and saw terrific shapes, some beastly, some part human, and some hellish, gnashing their teeth and howling, and uttering the most fearful and mournful tones, as if wishing to follow him, but unable to do so. In an agony of terror he arrived at home, not knowing how he got there. For several days he was in a state bordering on unconsciousness; and when he recovered, he learned that Chirrup was found on a neighbouring swamp, called the White Moss, raving mad, and chasing the wild birds. Bangle found his way to his abode over hedge and ditch; running with supernatural and fearful speed, the skull's eyes glaring at his back, and the nether jaw grinning and jabbering frightful and unintelligible sounds. He had preserved the seed, however, and having removed it from the skull, he buried the latter at the cross-road from whence he had taken it. He then carried the spell out, and his proud love stood one night by his bed-side, in tears But he had done too much for human nature; in three months after, she followed his corpse, a real mourner, to the grave. In addition to the awful St. John's fern, persons formerly gathered on this night the rose, St. John's-wort, vervain, trefoil, and rue, all of which were thought to have magical properties. They placed the orpine in pots and shells upon timber, slates, or trenchers, daubed with clay, in their houses, calling it a Midsummer man As the leaves were found next morning to bend to the right or left, the anxious maiden knew whether her lover would prove true to her or not." Young women also sought for what they called pieces of coal, but, in reality, certain hard, black, dead roots, often found under the living mugwort, with the intention of placing these under their pillows, that they might dream of their lovers. Some of these divinations are mentioned in the Connoisseur," a periodical paper of the middle of the last century:"I and my two sisters tried the dumb cake together. You must know, two must make it, two bake it, two break it, and the third put it under each of their pillows (but you must not speak a word all the time), and then you will dream of the man you are to have. This we did; and to be sure I did nothing all night but dream of Mr. Blossom. The same night, exactly at twelve o'clock, I sowed hempseed in our back yard, and said to myself,- Hempseed I sow, hempseed I hoe, and he that is my love come after me and mow! Will you believe me? I looked back, and saw him behind me, as plain as eyes could see him. After that, I took a clean shift and wetted it, and turned it wrong side out, and hung it to the fire upon the back of a chair; and very likely my sweetheart would have come and turned it right again (for I heard his step), but I was frightened and could not help speaking, which broke the charm. I likewise stuck up two Midsummer men, one for myself and one for him. Now if his had died away, we should never have come together; but I assure you his bowed and turned to mine. Our maid Betty tells me, that if I go backwards, without speaking a word, into the garden upon Midsummer Eve, and gather a rose, and keep it in a clean sheet of paper, without looking at it till Christmas day, it will be as fresh as in June; and if I then stick it in my bosom, he that is to be my husband will come and take it out." Gay, in one of his Pastorals, says―― "At eve last Midsummer no sleep I sought, A poem, published in 1786, notices the gathering of the rose, and wearing it on Midsummer Eve, as one of the modes in which a girl seeks to ascertain the sincerity of her lover's vows: "The moss-rose that, at fall of dew, (Ere eve its duskier curtain drew,) Was freshly gather'd from its stein, She values as the ruby gem; And, guarded from the piercing air, With all an anxious lover's care, She bids it, for her shepherd's sake, Await the new-year's frolic wake, When, faded in its alter'd hue, She reads the rustic is untrue! But, if it leaves the crimson paint, Her sickening hopes no longer faint ; The rose upon her bosom worn, She meets him at the peep of inorn, And lo! her lips with kisses prest, He plucks it from her panting breast." Our space will only allow us to allude to three or four other customs connected with Midsummer Eve. In Northumberland it is usual to dress out stools with a cushion of flowers. A layer of clay is placed on the stool, and therein is stuck, with great regularity, an arrangement of all kinds of flowers, so close as to form a beautiful cushion. These are exhibited at the doors of houses in the villages, and at the ends of streets and crosslanes of larger towns, where the attendants beg money from passengers, to enable them to have an evening feast and dancing. At Ripon, in Yorkshire, every housekeeper who, in the course of the year, has changed his residence into a new neighbourhood, spreads a table before his door with bread, checse, and ale, for those who choose to resort to it. The guests, after staying awhile, if the master can afford it, are invited to supper, and the evening is concluded with mirth and good huThe origin of this practice is unknown; but it probably was instituted for the purpose of introducing new comers to an early acquaintance with their neighbours. It closely resembles the ancient civic hospitalities of this season. mour. FRANK FAIRLEGH; OR, SCENES FROM THE LIFE OF A PRIVATE PUPIL. CHAP. VIII. It was not until I had proceeded the length of two or three streets, that I could collect my ideas sufficiently to form anything like a just estimate of the extraor dinary revelations to which I had so unexpectedly become a party-and no sooner had I in some measure succeeded in so doing, than the puzzling question presented itself to me, what line of conduct it would be advisable to adopt, in consequence of what I had heard. I asked myself, too, to begin with, what right had I to make any use of a private conversation, with which accident alone had caused me to become acquainted? Would not people say I had behaved dishonourably in having listened to it at all? But then again, by preserving Cumberland's secret, and concealing his real character from Oaklands, should not I, as it were, become a party to any nefarious schemes he might contemplate for the future? Having failed in one instance in his at-membering you had told me your letter was of importempt on Oaklands' purse, would he not (having, as I was now fully aware, such a strong necessity for money,) devise some fresh plan, which might succeed in its object, were Oaklands still ignorant of the real character of the person he had to deal with? And in such case should not I be answerable for any mischief which might ensue? Nay, for aught I knew, some fresh villainy might be afloat even now; what plan could Spicer have been urging, which Cumberland seemed unwilling to adopt, if not something of this nature, which might be prevented were Oaklands made aware of all the circumstances? This last idea settled the business. I determined to reveal every thing to Oaklands in confidence, and to be guided in my subsequent conduct by his opinion. Having once arrived at this conclusion, the next thing was to carry my intentions into effect with as little loss of time as possible. I consequently started off in a homeward direction as fast as my legs could carry me, and succeeded in reaching my destination in rather less than ten minutes, having, at various times in the course of my route, run against and knocked over no less than six little children, to the manifest discomposure and indignation of as many nursery-maids, who evidently garded me as a commissioned agent of some modern Herod, performing my master's work zealously. On arriving at home my impatience was doomed to be disappointed, for Oaklands, who had gone out soon after I did, was not yet returned. This delay, in the feverish state of anxiety and excitement in which I was, appeared to me intolerable; and, unable to sit still, I kept striding up and down the room, clenching my fists, and uttering exclamations of impatience and vexation; which unusual conduct on my part so astonished and alarmed the worthy Thomas, that, after remaining in the room till he had exhausted every conceivable pretext for so doing, he boldly inquired whether "I did not feel myself ill, no how?" adding his hope that "I had not been a exhaling laughing gas, or any sich rum-bustical wegitable?" after which, he favoured me with an anecdote of "a young man as he know'd, as had done so, wot conducted hisself more like a mad fool than a Christian, ever after." Perceiving at length that his attentions were rapidly reducing me to the same state of mind as that of his friend, he very considerately left me. | post office, as hard as my legs would carry me-but I was going to tell you, as I went down, I met Curtis of the -th, who told me their band was going to play in Park Square, and asked me to go with him to hear it, and I'm afraid that, as I stood in the crowd, my pocket must have been picked, for when I got to the post, I found that my letter, my pocket handkerchief, and I am sorry to say, your letter also had disappeared-so, retance, I thought the best thing I could do was to come home as fast as I could, and tell you." "By Jove," exclaimed Oaklands, "that's rather a bore though; there was my father's cheque for 300l. in it; I suppose something ought to be done about it directly." "Write a note to stop the payment; and-let me see-as it is too late for the post now, if you will make a parcel of it, I'll run down and give it to the guard of the mail, begging him to deliver it himself as soon as he gets to town,-the cheque can't be presented till to-morrow morning, so that will be all right." "What a head you have for business, to be sure!" said Oaklands; "but why should you have the trouble of taking it? I dare say Thomas will go with it, when we have done dinner, or I can take it myself." "Nay," replied Cumberland, "as I have contrived to lose your letter, the least I can do is to take the parcel; besides, I should like to speak to the guard myself, so as to be sure there's no mistake." While this was going on, it may be imagined that my thoughts were not idle. When Cumberland mentioned the loss of the letter, my suspicions that some nefarious scheme might be on foot began for the first time to resolve themselves into a tangible form, but, when I perreceived his anxiety to have the parcel entrusted to him, which was to prevent the payment of the cheque, the whole scheme, or something nearly approaching to it, flashed across me at once, and without reflecting for a moment on what might be the consequences of so doing, I said, "If Oaklands will take my advice, he will not entrust you with any thing else, till you can prove that you have really lost the letter, as you say you have done." Had a thunder-bolt fallen in the midst of us, it could scarcely have produced greater confusion than did this speech of mine. Oaklands sprang upon his feet, regarding me with the greatest surprise, as he asked, "If I knew what I was saying?" while Cumberland, in a voice hoarse from passion, inquired, "what the devil I meant by my insolence? what I dared to insinuate he had done with the letter, if he had not lost it?" "I insinuate nothing," was my reply; "but I tell you plainly that I believe, and have good reason for believing, that you have not lost the letter, but given it to your gambling friend and accomplice, Captain Spicer, who, in return for it, is to give you a receipt in full for the 2001. you owe him, and 507. down." On hearing this, Cumberland turned as pale as ashes, and leaned on the back of a chair for support, while I continued, "You look surprised, Oaklands, as well you may, but, when you hear what I have to tell, you will see that I do not make this accusation without having good grounds to go upon." "I shall not stay here," said Cumberland, making an effort to recover himself, and turning towards the door, "I shall not remain here, to be any further insulted; I wish you good evening, Mr. Oaklands." "Not so fast," said Oaklands, springing to the door, and locking it, "if all this be true, and Fairlegh would not have said so much, unless he had strong facts to produce, you and I shall have an account to settle together, Mr. Cumberland; you will not leave this room, till I know the rights of the affair-now, Frank, let us hear how you learned all this.” “Strangely enough," replied I; and I then gave him an exact account of all that had passed at the billiard-rooms, repeating the conversation, word for word, as nearly as I could remember it, leaving Oaklands to draw his own inferences therefrom. During the whole of my recital, Cumberland sat with his elbow resting on the table, and his face buried in his hands, without offering the slightest interruption, scarcely indeed After half an hour of anxious expectation, in the course of which I must have walked some mile or two over Dr. Mildman's parlour carpet, Oaklands and Lawless returned together. I instantly called the former aside, and told him I wished to speak to him alone, as I had something of importance to communicate to him. To this he replied that it was very near dinner-time, but that, if I would come up to his room, I could talk to him while he dressed. As soon as we were safely closeted together, I began my relation, but scarcely had 1 got beyond "You asked me to go to the billiard rooms, you know"-when a hasty footstep was heard upon the stairs, some one knocked at the door, and immediately a voice, which I knew to be that of Cumberland, asked to be let in, as he had something particular to say." "The plot thickens,” said Oaklands, as, without rising from his seat, he stretched out an immense length of arm, and opened the door. Hear what I have to say first," cried I-but it was too late, and Cumberland entered, breathless, and with his usually sallow complexion flushed with exercise and excitement. "The most unfortunate thing"-he began, and stopping to draw breath, he added, "I have run all the way from the appearing aware of what was going on, save once, when I mentioned the fact of the door between the two rooms being slightly open, when he muttered something about what cursed folly!" When I had finished my account, Oaklands turned towards Cumberland, and asked, in a stern voice, "What he had to say to this statement?" Receiving no answer, he continued" But it is useless, sir, to ask you the truth of what Fairlegh has said is self-evident the next question is, What's to be done about it?" He paused for a moment as if in thought, and then resumed "In the position in which I now stand, forming one of Dr. Mildman's household, and placed by my father under his control, I scarcely consider myself a free agent. It seems to me, therefore, that my course is clear; it is evidently my duty to inform him of the whole affair, and afterwards to act as he may advise. Do you agree with me, Frank?" "It is exactly what I should have proposed, had you not mentioned it first," was my answer. "For God's sake, Oaklands, don't," exclaimed Cumberland, raising himself suddenly; "he will write to my uncle,-I shall be expelled, it will be utter ruin;-have pity upon me,-I will get you back your money, I will indeed, only don't tell Mildman." "I have treated you up to the present time as a gentleman and a friend," replied Oaklands; "you have proved yourself unworthy of either title, and deserve nothing at my hands but the strictest justice; no one could blame me were I to allow the law to take its course with you, as with any other swindler, but this I shall be most unwilling to do; nothing short of Dr. Mildman's declaring it to be my positive duty will prevail upon me. But our tutor ought to be informed of it, and shall: he is a good, kind-hearted man, and if his judgment should err at all, you may feel sure it will be on the side of mercy. Fairlegh, will you go down and ask Dr. Mildman if I can speak to him, on a matter of importance, now, at once? you will find him in his study. Let me know when he is ready, and we will come down; for," added he, turning to Cumberland, "I do not lose sight of you till this business is settled one way or other." When I had told my errand, Dr. Mildman, who looked a good deal surprised, and a little frightened, desired me (on receiving my assurance that the business would not do as well after dinner,) to tell Oaklands to come to him immediately. To this Oaklands replied by desiring me to hold myself in readiness for a summons, as he should want me presently. Then, linking his arm within that of Cumberland, he half-led, half-forced him out of the room. In another minute I heard the studydoor close behind them. "Now, Fairlegh," said Dr. Mildman, when, in about a quarter of an hour's time, I had been sent for, "I wish you to repeat to me the conversation you overheard at the billiard-room, as nearly word for word as you can remember it." This I hastened to do, the Doctor listening with the most profound attention, and asking one or two questions on any point which did not at first appear quite clear to him. When I had concluded, he resumed his inquiries, by asking whether I had seen the parties who were speaking. To this I answered in the negative. "But you imagined you recognised the voices?" "Yes, sir." "Whose did you take them to be?" "One I believed to be Cumberland's, the other that of a Captain Spicer, whom I had seen when I was there before." "How often have you been there?" "Twice, sir; once about a week ago, and again to-day." "And have you the slightest moral doubt as to the fact of the persons you heard speaking being Cumberland and this Captain Spicer?" "Not the slightest; I feel quite certain of it." "That is all clear and straightforward enough," observed Dr. Mildman, turning to the culprit; "I am afraid the case is only too fully proved against you; have you anything to say which can at all establish your innocence?" "It would be of no use if I were to do so," said Cumberland, in a sullen manner; "it is all a matter of assertion; you choose to believe what they say, and, if I were to deny it, you would not believe me without proof, and how can I prove a negative?" "But do you deny it?" inquired Dr. Mildman, regarding him with a clear, scrutinizing look. Cumberland attempted to speak, but, meeting Dr. Mildman's eye, was unable to get out a word, and turned away, concealing his face in his handkerchief. This is a sad piece of business," said Dr. Mildman; "I suppose you mean to prosecute, Oaklands !" "I shall be most unwilling to do so," was the reply; "nor will I, sir, unless you consider it my positive duty. I would rather lose the money ten times over than bring such a disgrace upon Cumberland." "You are a kind-hearted fellow," replied the Doctor; "it really is a very difficult case in which to know how to act. As a general principle, I am most averse to anything like hushing up evil." "For Heaven's sake have pity upon me, Dr. Mildman," cried Cumberland, throwing himself on his knees before him; "I confess it all. I did allow Spicer to keep the cheque; he threatened to expose me, and I did it to escape detection; but promise you will not prosecute me, and I will tell you where he may be found, so that something may be done about it yet. I will pay anything you please. I shall come into money when I am of age, and I can make some arrangement. I don't care what I sacrifice, if I have to dig to earn my bread, only do not disgrace me publicly. Remember, I am very young, and oh if you knew what it is to be tempted as I have been ! Oaklands, Fairlegh, intercede for me; think how you should feel, either of you, if you were placed in my situation!"--" Get up, Mr. Cumberland," observed Dr. Mildman, in a grave impressive manner; "it is equally needless and unbecoming to kneel to man for forgiveness--learn to consider that position as a thing set apart and sacred to the service of One greater than the sons of men,-One, whom you have indeed grievously offended, and to whom, in the solitude of your chamber, you will do well to kneel, and pray that He who died to save sinners from their sin, may in the fulness of His mercy, pardon you also:"-he paused, and then resumed-"we must decide what steps had better be taken to recover your cheque, Oaklands; it is true we can send and stop the payment of it but if you determine not to prosecute, for Cumberland's sake, you must let off this man Spicer also, in which case it would be advisable to prevent his presenting the cheque at all, as that might lead to inquiries which it would be difficult to evade. You said just now, you knew where this bad man was to be found, Mr. Cumberland." "Yes, sir, if he is not at the billiard-rooms in F Street, his lodgings are at No. 14, Richmond Buildings," said Cumberland. Aye, exactly," replied Dr. Mildman; and resting his head upon his hand, he remained for some minutes buried in thought. Having at length apparently made up his mind, he turned to Cumberland, and said, "Considering all the circumstances of the case, Mr. Cumberland, although I most strongly reprobate your conduct, which has grieved and surprised me more than I can express, I am unwilling to urge Oaklands to put the law in force against you, for more reasons than one. In the first place, I wish to spare your uncle the pain, which such an exposure must occasion him; and secondly, I cannot but hope that at your age, so severe a lesson as this may work a permanent change in you, and that at some future period you may regain that standing among honourable men, which you have now so justly forfeited, and I am anxious that this should not be prevented by the stigma which a public examination must attach to your name for ever. I will therefore at once go with you to the abode of this man Spicer, calling on my way at the house of a legal friend of mine, whom I shall try to get to accompany us. I presume we shall have no great difficulty in procuring restitution of the stolen letter, when the culprit perceives that his schemes are found out, and that it is consequently valueless to him. Having succeeded in this, we shall endeavour to come to some equitable |