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—grown painfully wise, poor girl!—watched a Jewish-looking man hanging about the bouse, and noticing everybody that went in or out of it.

Now, sitting at Miss Leafs window, she fancied she saw this man disappear into the gin-palace opposite, and at the same moment a figure darted hurriedly round the streetcorner, and into the door of No. 15.

Elizabeth looked to see if her mistress were asleep, and then crept quietly out of the room, shutting the door after her. Listening, she heard the sound of the latchkey, and of some one coming stealthily upstairs.

"Hollo!—Oh, it's only you, Elizabeth!"

"Shall I light your candle, sir?"

But when she did, the light was not pleasant. Drenched with rain, his collar pulled up, and his hat slouched, so as in some measure to act as a disguise, breathless and trembling—hardly anybody would have recognized in this discreditable object that gentlemanly young man, Mr. Ascott Leaf.

He staggered into his room, and threw himself across the bed.

"Do you want anything, sir ?" said Elizabeth from the door.

"No—yes—stay a minute. Elizabeth, are you to be trusted?"

"I hope I am, sir."

"The bailiffs are after me'. I've just dodged them. If they know I'm here, the game's all up—and it will kill my aunt?

Shocked as she was, Elizabeth was glad to hear him say that—glad to see the burst of real emotion with which he flung himself down on the pillow, muttering all sorts of hopeless self-accusations.

"Come, sir, 'tis no use taking on so," said she, much as she would have spoken to a child, for there was something childish rather than manlike in Ascott's distress. Nevertheless, she pitied him, with the unreasoning pity a kind heart gives to any creature who, blameworthy or not, has fallen into trouble. "What do you mean to do?"

"Nothing. I'm cleaned , out. And I haven't a friend in the world."

He turned his face to the wall in perfect despair.

Elizabeth tried hard not to sit in judgment upon what the catechism would call her "betters;" and yet her own strong instinct of almost indefinite endurance turned with


something approaching contempt from this weak, lightsome nature, broken by the first touch of calamity.

"Come, it's no use making things worse than they are. If nobody knows that you are here, lock your door and keep quiet. I'll bring you some dinner when I bring up missis' tea; and not even Mrs. Jones will be any the wiser."

"You're a brick, Elizabeth; a regular brick !" cried the young fellow, brightening j up at the least relief. "That will be capi. tal. Get me a good slice of beef, or ham, or something. And mind you, don't forget! a regular stunning bottle of pale ale." "Very well, sir."

The acquiescence was somewhat sullen,

and had he watched Elizabeth's face, he

might have seen there an expression not too

/flattering. But she faithfully brought him

his dinner, and kept his secret; even though,

, hearing from over the staircase Mrs. Jones

'resolutely deny that Mr. Leaf had been at

j home since morning, she felt very much as

if she were conniving at a lie. With a pain

I ful, half-guilty consciousness she waited for

her mistress' usual question, "Is my nephew

I come home?" but fortunately it was not

asked. Miss Leaf lay quiet and passive,

j and her faithful nurse settled her for the

j night with a strangely solemn feeling as if

j she were leaving her to her last rest, safe

j and at peace before the overhanging storm

{ broke upon the family.

But all shadow of this storm seemed to

have passed away from him who was ita

cause. As soon as the house was still, As

j cott crept down and fell to his supper with

I as good an appetite as possible. He evea

became free and conversational.

, , Don't look so glum, Elizabeth. I shall soon weather through. Old Ascott will fork out; he couldn't help it. I'm to be his nephew, you know. Oh, that was a clever catch of Aunt Selina. If only Aunt Hilary would try another like it."

"If you please, sir, I'm going to bed." "Off with you, then, and I'll not forget the gown at Christmas. You're a sharp young woman, and I'm much obliged to you." And for a moment he looked as if he were about to make the usual unmannerly acknowledgment of civility from a young gentleman to a servant maid—viz., , kissing her—but he pulled a face and drew back. He really couldn't; she was so very plain.

At this moment there came a violent ring, and " Fire !" was shouted through the keyhole of the door. Terrified, Elizabeth opened it, when, with a burst of laughter, a man rushed in, and laid hands upon Ascott.

It was the sheriffs officer.

When his trouble came upon him, Ascott's manliness returned. He turned very white, but he made no opposition,—had even enough of his wits about him—or something better than wits—to stop Mrs. Jones from rushing up in alarm and indignation to arouse Miss Leaf.

"No; she'll know it quite soon enough. Let her sleep till morning. Elizabeth, look here." He wrote upon a card the address ,of the place he was to be taken to. "Give Aunt Hilary this. Say, if she can think of a way to get me out of this horrid mess— but I don't deserve it Never mind. Come on, you fellows."

He pulled his hat over his eyes, jumped into the cab, and was gone. The whole thing had not occupied five minutes.

Stupefied, Elizabeth stood, and considered what was best to be done. Miss Hilary must be told; but how to get at her in the middle of the night, thereby leaving her mistress to the mercy of Mrs. Jones? It would never do. Suddenly she thought of Miss Balquidder. She might send a message. No; not a message—for the family misery and disgrace must not be betrayed to a stranger— but a letter, to Kensington.

With an effort, Elizabeth composed herself sufficiently to write one—her first—to 'her dear Miss Hilary.

"Honored Madam,—Mr. Leaf has got himself into trouble, and is taken away somewhere; and I dare not tell missis; and I wish you was at home, as she is not well, but better than she has been, and she shall know nothing about it till you come.—Your obedient and affectionate servant,

"Elizabeth Hand."

Taking Ascott's latchkey, she quitted the house, and slipt out into the dark night, almost losing her way among the gloomy squares, where she met not a creature except the solitary policeman, plashing steadily along the wet pavement. When he turned the glimmer of his bull's-eye upon her she started like a guilty creature, till she rcmem

bered that she really was doing nothing wrong, and so need not be afraid of anything. This was her simple creed, which Miss Hilary had taught her, and it upheld her, even till she knocked at Miss Balquidder's door.

There, poor girl, her heart sank, especially when Miss Balquidder, in an anomalous costume and a severe voice, opened the door herself, and asked who was there, disturbing a respectable family at this late hour?

Elizabeth answered, what she had before determined to say, as sufficiently explaining her errand, and yet betraying nothing that her mistress might wish concealed.

"Please, ma'am, I'm Miss Leafs servant. My missis is ill, and I want a letter sent at once to Miss Hilary."

"Oh ! come in, then. Elizabeth, I think, your name is?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"What made you leave home at this hour of the night? Did your mistress send you?"


"Is she so very ill? It seems sudden. I saw Miss Hilary to-day, and she knew nothing at all about it."

Elizabeth shrank a little before the keen eye that seemed to read her through.

"There's more amiss than you have told me, young woman. Is it because your mistress is in serious danger that you want to send for her sister?"


* What is it, then? You had better tell me at once. I hate concealment."

It was a trial but Elizabeth held her ground.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am; but I don't think missis would like anybody to know, and therefore I'd rather not tell you."

Now the honest Scotswoman, as she said, hated anything underhand, but she respected the right of every human being to maintain silence if necessary. She looked sharply in Elizabeth's face, which apparently re-assured her, for she said not unkindly,—

"Very well, child, keep your mistress' secrets by all means. Only tell me what you want. Shall I take a cab, and fetch Miss Hilary at once?"

Elizabeth thanked her, but said she thought that would not do; it would be better just to send the note the first thing to-morrow morning, and then Miss Hilary would come home just as if nothing had happened, and Miss Leaf would not be frightened by her sudden appearance.

"You are a good, mindful girl," said Miss Balquidder. "How did you learn to be so sensible?"

At the kindly word and manner, Elizabeth, bewildered and exhausted with the excitement she had gone through, and agitated by the feeling of having, for the first time in her life, to act on her own responsibility, gave way a little, she did not actually cry, but she was very near it.

Miss Balquidder called over the stairhead, in her quick, imperative voice,—

"David, is your wife away to her bed yet P"

"No, ma'am.".

"Then tell her to fetch this young woman to the kitchen, and give her some supper. And afterwards, will you see her safe home? Poor lassie! she's awfully tired, you see."

"Yes, ma'am."

And, following David's gray head, Elizabeth, for the first time since she came to London, took a comfortable meal in a comfortable kitchen, seasoned with such stories of Miss Ualquidder's goodness and generosity, that when, an hour after, she went home and to sleep, it was with a quieter and more hopeful spirit than she could have be\ lieved possible under the circumstances.

The New Pensions In England.—Lord Palmerston has just distributed the civil list pensions of England; and among the pensioners is Charles Mackay, the poet, who is at present residing on Staten Island. The following is the list:—


Mr. Charles Mnckay, £1 00, in consideration of his contributions to poetry and to general literature.

Miss Emma Robinson, £75, in consideration of her many romances, historical plays, and other contributions to periodical literature, of admitted excellence.

Mr. Lcitch Ritchie, £100, in acknowledgment of his labors to enrich the literature of his country, and to elevate the intellectual condition of the poor.

Mr. Thomas Roscoe, £50, in consideration of his literary labors.

Mr. John Scymer, £100, in consideration of his contributions to literature, and of his career of usefulness at home, and of educational labors anions the natives of India, in spite of his being blind /rom within two years of his birth.

Mr. Isaac Taylor, £100, in public acknowledgment of his eminent services to literature, especially in the departments of history and philosophy, during a period of more than forty years.

Mr. John Wade, £50, in consideration of his contributions to political literature, more especially during the time of the Reform bill of 1832.


Miss Elizabeth Baly and Miss Mario Josephine Fauvct (a joint pension), £100, in consideration of the late Dr. Daly's long career in the public service, and of the merit of the scientific medical works of which he was the author.

Mr. Richard Cort, £50 (in addition to his former pension of £50), on account of the great

value and utility of his father's discoveries in the working of iron, and of his failure to derive any pecuniary benefit therefrom.

Dr. John Hart, Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland, £75, in consideration of his contributions to the science of anatomy and physiology, and of his being afflicted with blindness and broken health.

Mr. George Rainoy, £100, in consideration of his labors in the field of minute anatomy and physiology, and of the many works on the subject which ho has given to the public in the Transactions of learned societies without receiving any pecuniary remuneration.

Mrs. Janet Wilson and Miss Jessie Wilson, £100 (a joint pension), in consideration of the eminent services of the late Professor George Wilson, of Edinburgh, as a public teacher and a scientific man.


Mrs. Mary Cross, £100, in consideration of her late husband's merits as a painter, and of her straightened circumstances.


Mrs. Jane Fonblanquc, £100, on account of her husband having been forty-four years in the Consular service, nml of his death having been caused by an attack made upon him while at his post at Belgrade, by a Turkish soldier, when his family was left entirely unprovided for.

"Thet worshipped Devils, whose pictures remained in the days of Gildas, within and without the decayed walls of their cities, drawn with deformed faces (no doubt done to the life, according to their terrible apparitions), so that such ugly shapes did not woo, but fright people into adoration of them." — Fuller's Church llistory, b. 1, c. 1.

From The Spectator.

What are the effects of the intermarriage of blood-relations upon their offspring, and how those effects, if they exist, are produced, are questions which have often heen debated by physicians and physiologists. They are, moreover, questions which have considerable general interest, in consequence of their direct bearing upon practical family life.

Many of our readers know that the opinion of most of those who have paid any attention to this subject has tended rather to confirm the popular belief that such marriages are injurious; but they are, perhaps, not equally well aware that these opinions have been founded for the most part upon isolated facts and observations, and that it is only within the last fifteen or twenty years that any serious attempts have been made to give them a more solid foundation upon a mass of classified instances. Dr. Devay, of Lyons, in his Traite «?Hygiene des Families, and Dr. Bemiss, of Louisville, U. S., in a paper on the subject reprinted in the Journal of Psychological Medicine for April, 1857, have attempted to show by the method of statistics that such marriages lead to what the latter writ.r calls "degeneration of race," that is, that they are either unfruitful, or that their offspring are more than usually liable to diseases, amongst which idiocy and scrofula seem to be the most frequent. We intend in the present article to examine the conclusions arrived at by these authors by the help of the light thrown upon them by others. We shall probably show reason for doubting whether their conclusions are fairly borne out by the facts upon which they profess to be founded, and shall at the same time bring home to the minds of our readers the extreme difficulty which exists in deducing trustworthy conclusions from facts of so complicated a character, and the great caution required in applying the statistical method to physiological phenomena.

It is to be observed that the controversy, as it exists, is capable of being brought to a very narrow issue. No one denies or doubts that in many instances the marriages of cousins are followed by n variety of ill effects; the real point in dispute is whether their evils depend, as the authors we have mentioned maintain, upon an unknown law of nature which is broken by such marriages,

or whether they merely follow the ordinary laws of inheritance by which peculiarities and tendencies existing in the parent are transmitted, in a manner of which we are ignorant, to the child.

The distinction here drawn is by no means the trivial matter it may at first sight seem, inasmuch as it involves the question whether marriages between cousins are always, and of necessity, an evil, or whether they merely require the exercise of the same prudence which ought to be used in all other cases, if similar evils are to be avoided.

The former of these two views, then, is that held by the physicians to whom we have referred, and Dr. Devay expressly denounces the latter as altogether inadequate to account for the phenomena. Want of space prevents our entering upon an examination of these various statistics at length ; but we will take three points—viz., the fertility of the marriages, the infant mortality, and the lesions of the intellect amongst the offspring,—and compare the results given by the two sets of thirty-four and seventeen marriages given by Dr. Bemiss, respectively on his own and Dr. Howe's authority, and the one hundred and thirty-four marriages, the particulars of which are related by Dr. Devay. We find, then, that of the thirty-four marriages, seven were sterile and twenty-seven fertile; i.e., about one in every five were unfruitful; and the total number of children was one hundred and ninety-five, of whom fifty-eight died in infancy or childhood and one hundred and thirty-four grew up. Amongst the latter, ten were either actually defective ia intellect or likely to become so, there being four epileptic, two insane, and four idiotic; there were also two deaf and dumb. In the second case, that of the seventeen marriages, the number of sterile unions is not stated, but the total number of children was ninetyfive, of whom forty-four were idiots and one was deaf. In the third case, that of the one hundred and thirty-four marriages, the total number of children is not stated, but twentytwo we're sterile, or about one in every six, and amongst the offspring there appear one deaf and dumb child and not a single idiotic or insane individual. Now " similar causes," we have most of us learned, " produce similar effects," and the chief characteristic of these sets of statistics appears to be their extreme dissimilarity. In the matter of fertility, the first two sets exceed the average very considerably, and of the last we know nothing, and in respect of intellectual lesions the first and third contrast very remarkably with the second; of the latter, indeed, we may remark that it obviously proves too much, for no one even gathering his experience from a few isolated cases will believe that almost one-half of the children of cousins are idiotic. In each set of statistics, moreover, it is to be noticed that some one form of degeneracy predominates, and in each case a different form. Thus, in fortyseven cases of disease in the first set twentythree were scrofulous, in fifty-eight cases in the second set forty-four were idiotic, and in thirty cases of deformity or disease, in the third set, seventeen consisted in the development of supernumerary fingers.

It is difficult to believe that effects so very various are all the natural results of the same cause, and until we can obtain far more satisfactory evidence than is afforded by these statistics we shall be inclined to believe that very similar results might be shown to occur should any future physiologist choose to adopt marriages between persons with red hair or hooked noses, as his bete noire, instead of those between bloodrelations.. One writer, indeed, Mr. Anderson Smith, in a letter printed in the Lancet, for July 5th, has brought forward statistics of forty-one marriages between natives of different countries of Europe, with a view of showing that their effects, too, are of a most disastrous character. He finds that of their number ten were sterile; the whole only produced one hundred and six children, of whom fourteen were either idiotic, insane, or of weak intellect, and eighteen died in childhood—results on the whole woise than any of the others. Now we cannot say that we are prepared, upon the strength of Mr. Smith's statistics, to believe that any law of nature is broken by the marriage of a Frenchman or a German to an English wife, or rice versa; but the evidence for such a theory is, at least, as good as that upon which we are asked to believe that degeneracy of race, as it is called, is a natural consequence of the marriage of blood-relations. In practice, statistics such as these are liable to two- special sources of error, one arising from the hereditary character of many diseases, which renders it necessary

to investigate the history of parents and grandparents before pronouncing upon the cause of a special disease appearing in the offspring of a particular family; the other from the closeness with which family secrets are kept, and the consequent difficulty or Impossibility of pursuing such an investigation successfully. Only in one instance, as far as we know, has the number of cases made use of to support a conclusion similar to those which we have referred to been sufficient even in any degree to eliminate these sources of fallacy. It is stated that in France one-fourth of the inmates of the deaf and dumb asylums are the children or grandchildren of cousins; whereas, to correspond with the proportion of marriages between such relations there should be only onetwentieth.

The explanation of this fact probably is that we are totally ignorant of the antecedents in the parents, upon which mutism in the offspring depends; and hence, in each case, it comes upon us as a new phenomenon, which we had no reason to expect. It is at least probable that some day a connection may be found between mutism and some other totally dissimilar affection, such as is believed by many to exist between rheumatism and St. Vitus' dance. However this may be, it is certainly questionable logic to fix upon one amongst a complex mass of antecedents as the cause of a phenomenon which is itself absent in the majority of cases in which that phenomenon occurs.

There remains a class of facts which may be appealed to to correct the conflicting evidence on this subject thus obtained from observations upon man, that, namely, which is derived from the experience gained in the breeding of animals. Here, we think, it must be admitted that the whole weight of the evidence is against the popular view; for though it may be true that ill effects have been brought about by extremely close interbreeding continued through a scries of several generations, yet the pages of the herd-book and the stud-book prove, beyond a doubt, that the very best of our thoroughbred horses and short-horned cattle come of races in which close breeding has been carried to on extent which, in the human race, it is impossible that it ever should be. Dr. j Devay and other writers have tried to dis

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