seen him since. That's all I know of the transaction, and I can only publicly repeat my deep regret and shame that I should have been drawn into such a one."

"Drawn, however, without much scruple, as it appears," rebuked the judge, with a severe countenance. "Allow me to ask you, sir, when it was you first became acquainted with the fact that a theft had been perpetrated on the register ?"

Mr. George Prattleton did not immediately answer. He would have given much not to be obliged to do so: but the court wore an ominous silence, and the judge waited his reply.

"The day after it took place, Arkell, the college-boy, came and told me what he had seen, but

"Then, sir, it was your duty to have proclaimed it, and to have had steps taken to arrest your confederate, Rolls," interrupted the stern judge.

"But, my lord, I did not believe Arkell. I did not indeed," he added, endeavouring to impart to his tone an air of veracity, and therefore-as is sure to be the case-i -imparting to it just the contrary. "I could not believe that Rolls, or any one else in a respectable position, would be guilty of so felonious an action."

"The less excuse you make upon the point, the better," observed the judge.

For some few minutes Serjeant Siftem and his party had been conferring in whispers. The serjeant, at this stage, spoke.

"My lord, this revelation has come upon my instructors, Mynn and Mynn, with the most utter surprise, and

"The man, Rolls, is clerk to Mynn and Mynn, I believe," interrupted the judge, in as significant a tone as a presiding judge permits himself to

assume.

"He was, my lord, but he will not be in future. They discard him from this hour. In fact, should he not make good his escape from the country, which it is more than likely he is already endeavouring to effect, he will probably, next assizes, find himself placed before your lordship for judgment, should you happen to come this circuit, and preside in the other court. But Mynn and Mynn wish to disclaim, in the most emphatic manner, all cognisance of this man's crime. They"There is no charge to be brought against Mynn and Mynn in connexion with it, is there?" again interposed the judge.

"Most certainly not, my lord," replied the counsel, in a lofty tone, meant to impress the public ear.

"Then, Brother Siftem, it appears to me that you need not take up the time of the court to enter on their defence."

"I bow to your lordship's opinion. Mynn and Mynn and their client, Squire Carr, are not less indignant that so rascally a trick should have been perpetrated, than the public must be. But this evidence, which has come upon them in so overwhelming a manner, they feel they cannot hope to confute. I am therefore instructed to inform your lordship and the jury that they withdraw from the suit, and permit a verdict to be entered for the other side."

"Very good," replied the judge.

And thus, after certain technicalities had been observed, the proceed

ings were concluded, and the court began to empty itself of its spectators: the next cause, coming on, had no interest for them. For once the RIGHT had prospered.

The Reverend Mr. Wilberforce laid hold of Henry Arkell. "Tell me," said he, but not in an angry tone, "how much more that is incomprehensible are you keeping secret, allowing it to come out to me piecemeal?"

Henry smiled. "I don't think there is any more, sir."

"Yes there is. It is incomprehensible why you should not have disclosed, at the time, all you had been a witness to in the church. Why did you not?"

"I could not speak without compromising George Prattleton, sir; and if I had, he might have been brought to trial for it.'

"Serve him right too," said Mr. Wilberforce.

"It would have been an ungrateful return, sir, to the Reverend Mr. Prattleton, after all the kindness he has shown my family."

"Gratitude is a praiseworthy feeling, Arkell, but it should yield to justice. Had Mrs. Carr and her orphans lost their cause, through your not speaking, you would have reflected on yourself all your life. You ought to have thought of this."

"It is only within a day or two, sir, that I knew the leaf, taken out, had reference to Mrs. Carr's case: indeed, it was only yesterday evening that I heard it would be likely to cost her the trial. And I immediately went to George Prattleton and told him he must absolve me from the promise I had given him, or else I should speak without it."

"Then you gave him a promise not to betray him ?" hastily interrupted the master.

"Yes, sir; conditionally. The day following the scene in the church, I told George Prattleton what I had seen done. At first I could not decide how to act: had my father been in town I think I should have disclosed all to him: once I thought of telling you; then Mr. Prattleton; but it was impossible to tell any one, without betraying George. At last I decided to go to George himself, and I did so, and related what I had seen. Though he professed not to believe me, he wanted me to take an oath never to divulge it to any one. I would not do that: but I gave him my word not to disclose it, unless circumstances compelled me. He asked me to define what I meant by circumstances,' and I explained that should any mischief or injustice arise, through the theft, which my speaking would remedy, then I should speak."

"Like what has arisen ?" cried Mr. Wilberforce.

"Yes, sir. So yesterday evening, when George found I was determined, he himself told Mr. Prattleton, and called me in to confirm it: and then Mr. Prattleton made us go with him to Mr. Fauntleroy."

"Did your evidence in court to-day comprise all you saw and heard in the vestry?"

"Yes, sir; nearly."

"Nearly! What did you omit ?"

"I omitted nothing of what I saw, and but little of what I heard. It was only some conversation that passed between Rolls and George Prattleton: nothing that could affect the case either way, so I did not think myself obliged to mention it."

"I suspect what it was," said Mr. Wilberforce: "George Prattleton got paid for his services: and he would do the same again to-morrow, for money. I wonder Mr. Prattleton will have anything to do with him. Did you know it was Lewis who locked you up in the church ?"

"Not that same night. George Prattleton told me at the interview of the next day."

"And you generously screened him from punishment! like you now would screen George Prattleton to me. You are a good boy, Arkell," the master emphatically added, laying his hand upon his shoulder, "and will make a good man."

you

I hope so, sir: if I live."

"If you live!-what do you mean by that? By, the way," added the master, recollecting himself, "have you found any ill effects to-day from the fall ?"

"There is a dull pain in my head, sir: I did not feel it much in court to-day it is aching again now."

:

"Well, don't come to college until you feel quite equal to it,” concluded the master, walking away.

Henry was nearing his own home when he met a party: the dean and Miss Beauclerc, some friends of theirs, with Mr. St. John and his cousin, Lady Anne. Henry touched his cap to the dean, and took it off to Miss Beauclerc. The dean stopped him.

"What do you call yourself? A lion ?"

Henry smiled.

"I think you stand a fair chance of being promoted into one. Do you know what I wished to-day, when you were giving your evidence ?" "No, sir."

"That you were my own son."

Henry involuntarily glanced at Georgina, and she glanced at him: her face retained its calmness, but a flush of crimson came over his. No one observed them but Mr. St. John.

"I want you at the deanery to-night," continued the dean, releasing Henry. "No excuse about lessons now: your fall on Sunday has given you holiday. You will come?"

66 Yes, sir."

Georgina's eyes sparkled, and she nodded to him in triumph a dozen times, as she walked on with the dean.

Following in the wake of the dean's party came the Rev. Mr. Prattleton. Henry approached him timidly.

"I hope you will forgive me, sir. I could not help speaking."

"Forgive you!" echoed Mr. Prattleton; "I wish nobody wanted forgiveness worse than you do. You have acted nobly throughout. I have recommended Mr. George to get some employment out of the town, not to remain in it in idleness and trouble my table any longer. He can join his friend Rolls on the Continent if he likes: I understand he is most likely off thither."

So, taking one thing with another, it was a satisfactory termination to the renowned cause, Carr versus Carr.

STEREOSCOPIC GLIMPSES.

BY W. CHARLES KENT.

I. POPE AT TWICKENHAM.

BEYOND a hundred years and more,
A garden lattice like a door
Stands open in the sun,
Admitting fitful winds that set
Astir the fragrant mignionette
In waves of speckled dun:

Sweet waves, above whose odorous flow
Red roses bud, red roses blow,
In beds that gem the lawn-
Enamelled rings and stars of flowers,
By summer beams and vernal showers,
From earth nutritious drawn.

Within the broad bay-window, there-
Lo! huddled in his easy-chair,
One hand upon his knee,
A hand so thin, so wan, so frail,
It tells of pains and griefs a tale-
A small bent form I see.

The day is fair, the hour is noon,
From neighbouring thicket trills the boon
The nuthatch yields in song:

All drenched with recent rains, the leaves
Are dripping-drip the sheltering eaves,
The dropping notes among.

And twinkling diamonds in the grass
Show where the flitting zephyrs pass,
That shake the green blades dry:
And golden radiance fills the air,
And gilds the floating gossamer,
That glints and trembles by.

Yet, blind to each familiar grace,
Strange anguish on his pallid face,
And eyes of dreamful hue,

That lonely man sits brooding there,
Still huddled in his easy-chair,

With memories life will rue.

Where bay might crown that honoured head, A homely crumpled nightcap spread,

Half veils the careworn brows:

In morning-gown of rare brocade
His puny shrunken shape arrayed,
His sorrowing soul avows-

Avows in every drooping line,
Dejection words not thus define
So eloquent of woe;

Yet never to those mournful eyes
The heart's full-brimming fountains rise
Sweet tears to overflow.

No token here of studied grief,
But plainest signs that win belief,
A simple scene and true.

Beside the mourner's chair displayed,
The matin meal's slight comforts laid
The trimly board bestrew.

'Mid silvery sheen of burnished plate,
The chilled and tarnished chocolate
On snow-white damask stands;
Untouched the trivial lures remain
In dainty pink-tinged porcelain,
Still ranged by usual hands.

A drowsy bee above the cream
Hums loitering in the sunny gleam
That tips each rim with gold.
A chequered maze of light and gloom
Floats in the quaintly littered room
With varying charms untold.

Why sits that silent watcher there,
Still brooding with that face of care-
That gaze of tearless pain?
What bonds of woe his spirit bind-
What treasure lost can leave behind
Such stings within his brain?

He dreams of one who lies above,
He never more in life can love-
That mother newly dead:

He waits the artist-friend whose skill
Shall catch the angel-beauty still
Upon her features spread!

A reverent sorrow fills the air,
And makes a throne of grief the chair
Where filial genius mourns:
Death proving still, at direst need,
Life's sceptre-wand-a broken reed,
Love's wreath-a crown of thorns!