sides, I know that you have been engaged with your papers during the whole time that my examination of her has been carried on, and it would be only time lost to begin again." "Just as you please, sir," returned Mr Wilcox, resuming the examination of his papers; "but I believe I am quite aware of most of what has passed between you."

To this last observation Mr Huttonworth did not think it necessary to pay any attention, but raising his voice so as to be heard at a much greater distance from him than where Mrs Greenhill stood, he said, "Come forward, you most audacious of beggars! don't stand staring at us all as if we were so many wild-beasts, but tell us at once whether it is your intention to favour us with your company during the whole of the day."

"I shall be glad to go directly, sir," replied Mrs Greenhill, "if you will be pleased to give me an order for some sort of relief for my starving grandchildren. I am a stranger, sir, to almost all the gentlemen I see here; but there is one yonder-Captain Maxwell-who knows me." "Oh! He does, does he! Now then, perhaps, we shall catch a glimpse of light, at last, as to the nature of your right to establish a claim upon other folks' property. Beg pardon, Captain Maxwell; but be so good-will you?-as just to turn your eyes this way. Here is a respectable lady here who boasts the honour of your acquaintance, and we should be vastly obliged to you if you would be so good as to tell us what you know about her."

Thus called upon, Captain Maxwell bent for ward, and by doing so obtained a full view of the unhappy petitioner. “Mrs Greenhill?" said he. "Sure it can't be Mrs Greenhill-Is it?" "Yes, sir, I am Mrs Greenhill-," said the poor woman, faintly.

"I am very sorry to see you here, Mrs Greenhill; but it can't be by way of asking for any thing, neither. That's quite impossible; but it may be for somebody else, perhaps?"

"Yes, sir; it is for my five grandchildren and their destitute mother," she replied.

"Dear me! You don't say so. I am very sorry, indeed. But I should have thought, I must say, that you might have done something yourself to help them, instead of coming here. All I know, gentlemen, of this good lady is, that she has a very handsome pension from his Grace the Duke of Rochdale, and that she has always borne a most excellent character in the parish for respectability in every way; and I should almost as soon have expected to see my Lord Duke himself here to ask assistance as to sce her."

"There it is, you see," exclaimed Mr Huttonworth, with indignation, "from first to last, from the best to the worst, it is all the same. If one of them does but tumble down, and hurt the tip of his estimable toe, off they set for the board-husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, uncles and aunts-off they all come to the unfortunate board, and, in heart-breaking strains of the most profound misery, implore our honours to be so merciful as to let them live for a few weeks in idleness; all they want being paid for out of our freehold property.

Freehold, indeed! I bought my estate as freehold; but it was little better than a cheat to call it so. A better term, a great deal, would be beggar-hold property, as it seems to me, for the use of the beggars, and have only got just exactly what they please to leave us. And now, then. Madam Greenhill, by what this gentleman, whose testimony you called for, says of you, I really think that the best thing you can do is to tramp home again to the lane that you talk of, and spend a little of my Lord Duke's annuity in helping your grandchildren yourself: and so I beg to wish you a very good morning." "I have no longer my annuity," urged Mrs Greenhill, in a voice that shewed her courage and strength were sinking fast; "I have pledged it for the debts of my son."

"A very pretty story, indeed! Pray, gentlemen, what do you say to this? Here is an old vagabond, who has been handsomely pensioned by a nobleman for some service or other, God knows what; and for some cause or other, God knows what about that too, she makes away with it, and then comes bothering us. Do please, Mr Deputy Chairman, to send her off, will you? For to my request that she would be pleased to take her leave she pays not the slightest attention."

"Stay a moment, Mr Huttonworth, if you please," said Mr Dalton, who in the absence of Mr Rimmington, the clergyman of the parish, had been requested to act as chairman, “Stop one moment. if you please. I am sorry to say that I was listening to my friend Mr Lewis here, upon a little point of business that he wanted to speak about, and I did not perceive who it was you had got there. I know Mrs Greenhill perfectly well, and I know, too, that her son has been unfortunate; but it is no fauit of hers, gentlemen, as I take upon myself to assure you. I am sorry, to my heart, to sce her come here for assistance, but I am quite sure she would not come if she could help it, and I am, therefore, decidedly of opinion that she must not be sent away without relief."

This strong support renewed in some degree the courage of the unfortunate woman, and prevented her from obeying the mandate she had received to depart. It brought her also other assistance; for Mr Lewis, the attorney, who had transacted the business for giving security upon her annuity, seconded Mr Dalton's testimony in her favour, and declared, that as she had thought fit to apply to them, she ought not to be dismissed without a hearing.

This, of course, led to the rescuing her from the fangs of the pleasant and facetious Mr Huttonworth; her story was again asked for, and listened to with very business like patience, and though more than one prudent head was shaken at hearing of the number requiring relief, it was agreed, with tolerable unanimity, that it should be accorded, and she was told that, though a person provided for as she herself was, ought not to be considered as a pauper, or relieved as such, that the wife of her son, together with his children, might come into the house.

The spirits of Mrs Greenhill, which had been greatly cheered by the interest expressed for

her by Mr Dalton, sank again into a state of the most miserable despondence as she listened to this tremendous sentence. She was too kindhearted a neighbour not to know from the report of the poor around her what coming into the house meant. She knew that the little creatures she so tenderly loved would be in one part of the building, and their broken-hearted mother in another; she knew, also, that she should not be permitted herself to see cither the mother or the children; and, unable to endure the idea of carrying home to them this dreaded doom, she ventured to implore, instead of it, the very smallest aid that could enable them to exist, declaring herself still able and willing to contribute in some degree to their support, and particularly during the approaching confinement of her daughter-in-law, to have it in her power to save the union trouble, by attending her, without throwing the charge of doing it upon them. So ably did she plead, that the members of the board who knew her, and were therefore able to judge in a great degree of the value, to the poor woman who was to be relieved, of the services thus earnestly offered, every one of them espoused her cause,-excepting, indeed, the lawyer, who, though by no means a hardhearted man, felt it due to his consistency as a professional one, not to sanction any departore from the letter of the act, which it was their office to administer. But, with the exception of Mr Wilcox, who seemed to think that he had no right to interfere, there was not one of the many strange gentlemen from a distance, who formed the great majority of the board, but what had some strong word to say against what she pleaded. As for Mr Huttonworth, he declared that if the paupers were permitted to come and dictate to the board, not only their will, respecting their final determination to get something (to which, it must ever be remembered, they had not the slightest natural right), but also precisely the manner of it, however much that manner might be, in the very teeth of the law they were bound to administer, if the paupers, he said, were permitted to do this, he would immediately resign his place at the board. "Not," he added, standing up, that the important words might be heard to the most distant part of the room,-"not that I have any wish to escape from the duties which, in my opinion, every country gentleman is bound to fulfil; not for that reason would I resign, though, of course, the doing so would be an immense relief; but I would resign, if I found it impossible properly to perform those duties. Nay, I will do more, gentlemen, I will not only resign, but I will strongly recommend it to the Secretary of State for the Home Department, that no pauper shall ever be permitted to appear before a board, any members of which were likely to know them personally. It is that, gentlemen, that does all the mischief. Such it is now, at this present meeting, gentlemen. Who is it amongst us that flinches from doing their duty? Who is it that suffers themselves to be talked over by a canting old crone, that cares no more for the laws of the land than I do for the buzzing of that fly yonder? Who is it, I ask you, of all the gentlemen here

present, who would be ready and willing to let that old woman have exactly her own way, if the rest of us did not stand forward to prevent it? Why, just exactly the people that know her, to be sure. It is as plain as a pike-staff. It is influence, gentlemen,-local influence. You all of you the gentlemen of Deepbrook I mean-you, all of you, more or less, seem to care about her, and to value her, and to want to cosset her, just as if she was part and parcel of yourselves. Now, is there any thing, I would ask these very same gentlemen,-is there any thing in such feelings suitable to the strictly carrying into effect a strict law? I say it is impossible that the bill can work as it ought to work, as long as local acquaintance and neighbourly feelings have any opportunity of interfering. And that, gentlemen, is what I shall consider it as my duty to represent to the Right Honourable the Secretary of State for the Home Department, if I find that you act in such a manner as to render my doing so necessary. I would beg to know, sir," said the eloquent orator in conclusion, and specially addressing himself to the gentleman immediately opposite to him, whose eye he observed to be fixed upon him," I would beg to know, Mr. Wilcox, if you find any possibility of dissenting from a single word I have said?"

"Decidedly not, sir," replied Mr. Wilcox. "My opinion has ever been, that stern as some of the enactments of this bill appear, the severity of them, upon which you seem to lay so much stress, would in a very great measure disappear, were the centralisation part of it abrogated. If every parish had a receptacle, however humble, for its own poor, with no guardians but those who dwelt within its limits, and no commissioner to settle their doubts and difficulties, excepting the clergyman and the nearest magistrate, nothing at all like what has just past among us would be likely to recur."

The voice of Mr. Wilcox was low-toned, and did not make itself heard either by the deputychairman or the gentlemen near him, and therefore neither did nor could affect their decision, which, from respect to the opinions of the majority of the meeting, was very soon declared to be against affording Mrs. Greenhill's family any out-door relief. They may all come into the house," was the final resolution of the board, and having received it, the old woman left the room, and returned to her home.

It was this decision of the guardians of Deepbrook Union which so far subdued the spirit of Mrs. Greenhill as to induce her to present herself and her fallen fortunes before the friend of the Duchess of Rochdale. She had passed the night which succeeded her visit to the Union in meditating upon the comparative suffering that would arise from seeing poor Jane and her children "go into the house," and applying to the Rochdale family for assistance. Had the question related to herself alone, she would not have hesitated for a moment, as no misery, at least in perspective, could be so horrible to her as the idea of abusing the

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generous kindness of her patrons; but the penalty for indulging this feeling would not be paid by herself, but by her grandchildren and their miserable mother, and before this all other feelings yielded. The whole of this miserable story was recorded to Mrs. Buckhurst, before the old acquaintance parted; but this was only owing to the kindness of one heart, and the fulness of the other, for it was in no way necessary to the performance of

at

Mrs. Greenhill's errand; which was but to learn whether there was any truth in the report that "the family' were expected immediately Rochdale Castle. Mrs. Buckhurst, in answer to this inquiry, told her that she fully expected their arrival in a month; and with this information the unhappy nurse departed, doubting whether she was most glad or sorry to hear that she should have no letter to write, but have to tell her terrible story instead.

OR

any reader should think the title of my book an odd one, and mutter to himself, ". 3. D.-. S. D.!-what does that mean?" to him I beg, in Irish fashion, to answer by pating another question, "What does it not mean? These Roman initials for Pounds, Shillings and Pence, have a more extended meaning than could be treated of in a Preface,-a deeper bold upon human affections than many would like to own. There is magic in this triumvirate of letters, which, representing money, governs the world. Youth and beauty are slaves to age and ugliness, by £. S. D. Valour and good faith are beaten by cowardice and treachery, through . S. D. Wars have begun, and peaces have been bought, through £. S. D. National rights and national wrongs have been based on £. S. D. Where lies the root of most senatorial questions?--In £. S. D. The aspirations which stir our souls, under the name of ambition, are too often but the illuminated letters, £.S. D. In short, the golden fleece is branded with £. S. D.

In placing Irish Heirs and £. S. D. in juxtaposition, I have made an alliance quite in the spirit of a work of fiction, for, unfortunately,

the Pounds, Shillings and Pence are not, in reality, the invariable concomitants in Irish Heirships. Irish Heirs too often find themselves in the position of that particular one once described to an inquiring traveller by his Hibernian guide, who said that Mister Soand-So "was heir to five thousand a-yearthat was spent." But such are the heirs for the author.-There is nothing to be said of a man who inherits a fortune smoothly, lives a regu lar respectable life, and dies decently and quietly in his bed. Out on all such! Were the world made up of these, what an unromantic world it would be! As Irish Heirs seldom have the luck to be such uninteresting persons as these who have raised my indignation, they are the heirs after an author's heart; and as their patrimonies mostly departed with their forefathers, waifs and strays and money found must be considered legitimate Irish Heirships; and with this declaration I start with a tale of TREASURE TROVE, as the first of the series of £. S. D.; and, as I very respectfully present £. S. D. to the public, I hope they will generously return. S. D. to their obliged and grateful servant, SAMUEL LOVER.

Ir is about a hundred years ago that the hero of the following tale "lived, and moved, and had his being." He lived in the town of Galway, moved in the humbler walk of life, and had bis being from one Denis Corkery, an honest and wealthy trader in the ancient town aforesaid, and Molly his wife. This son of Denis, however, was christened Edward, in deference to his mother, who thought it more genteel than Denis,-but Denis took his revenge by never calling him anything but Ned.

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Ned, however, inherited, in the female line, a desperate hankering after all that belonged to the upper ranks. Even when a child, his very name sounded unpleasantly in his ear; he would mumble over "Corkery" to himself in disgust, and wish he was called Burke, or Blake, or Fitzgerald, or Macnamara. As he grew up, he looked wistfully after every well-mounted cavalier who pranced gallantly up the street, and the full-toned rumble of some grand family coach was music to him, while the sharp rattle of a

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