When the time came for the brothers to take
their leave and walk back towards Hammerham,
Mrs. Saxelby's spirits sank. It was a foretaste
of the parting with Mabel.

"Come and see mamma, sometimes, when
you can, Watty," said Mabel, taking his hand.
"She made no similar request to Clement; but
her mother added: "Oh, do come, both of you!
I am, and shall be, so thankful to see you."

"Will you please, Mr. Charlewood," Mabel
added, softening at the last moment, "to give
my kind love to little Corda? And will you tell
her, from me, to keep those other books I lent
her, and to take care of them for my sake?
They were given to me by some one whom I
loved very dearly. God bless you, Mr. Charlewood!
Adieu!"

"Au revoir, Mabel," said the young man, holding
both her hands, and looking gravely into
her eyes. "Au revoir!"

Thus Mabel Earnshaw and Clement Charlewood
parted.

                     END OF BOOK I.

           GENUINE LETTER OF THANKS.

THE following epistle, for the genuineness of
which we have authority to vouch, bears no
date, but is known to have been written about
the year 1770.

It is an interesting, because authentic,
evidence of the social position of the "Parson" in a
bygone day; who was hat in hand to his patron;
who thought it in no wise derogatory to his
cloth to dine in the servants' hall, to pay court to
the housekeeper, and make love to my lady's
"woman," or even to marry her, with my lady's
countenance and approval. A social position
admirably described by MACAULAY.

As concerns the letter itself, the mingled
simplicity and servility of the good man, its
author, his gratitude for favours conferred, and
his keen eye towards benefits to come, his
presentation of his family after the fashion of
modern mendicants of a lower class, his
prolixity and tautology (frightfully suggestive of
the sermons under which such of his parishioners
as understood English—they were,
probably, few, for he was a Welsh parson—groaned
on Sundays), these points, and other humorous
touches of character self-disclosed, make the
letter very curious and droll.

Reverend and Worthy, Indulgent and
Compassionate, Bounteous and very Valuable Sir.

The present you have sent me has laid me
under an obligation to write rather sooner than
I intended; and if I was not to seize the very
first opportunity that offered to return you
thanks after the reception of so considerable a
present, I should be guilty of such a piece of
insensibility and ingratitude as the very stones
(to allude to the dialect of Heaven) would
become vocal, and rise up and upbraid me;
especially as a few grateful expressions may be so
easily uttered without any expense obtained,
and the least that can be rendered to any person
by whom a favour is bestowed. No one is
more ready to acknowledge a benefit, nor,
perhaps, less able to make a retaliation, than
myself. I have it in my heart to do as much,
and in my power to do as little, as any man
living; however, as far as the efficacy and value
of thankful and affectionate expressions extend,
I am free to do the uttermost, and if it was
possible for a sheet of paper to contain, on the
one hand, and if it was not altogether unnecessary
on the other, I would give you as many
thanks as the clothes contain threads.

I thank you, dear sir, for the handsome and
very valuable black coat, I thank you for the
genteel blue coat, I thank you for the neat
cloth breeches, I thank you for the pieces you
have sent to repair them with, I thank you for
the beautiful wig, I thank you for paying the
carriage of the whole; I shall further add that,
by the present, you have animated and heightened
my affections, which your former hospitable
behaviour had before enkindled. Shall I tell
you I constantly and fervently pray for you,
and am daily forming a thousand wishes for
your present and future welfare? Dear sir, I
need only say you have won my heart by your
favours; I bless God for what you have done
for me, and am surely to conclude from this
instance of your bounty that you will be a great
friend to me and my family. Dear sir, I thank
you, and again I thank you. On Saturday last
I received your parcel. Immediately I had my
hair cut off, that I might have the honour on
the Sabbath to appear in your wig; and being
desirous to wear the black coat once, for your
sake, went to the meeting in it. My body was
never so genteelly arrayed since it came out of
the hands of its Creator; the clothes fitted me
well, and looked gracefully upon me. Dear sir,
I thank you, and again I thank you.

Was proud to tell Mr. Ashworth what a
present you had sent me; Mr. Ashworth seemed
quite pleased. Indeed, if anybody who had
seen me in my ragged and dirty apparel two
years ago, had seen me last Sabbath so decently
clothed in your things, would have been apt to
think me the reality of one of Ovid's Metamorphoses,
there being so striking a difference
between my past and my present appearance.
Dear sir, I thank you, and again I thank you.
To conclude, dear sir, you say in your last
letter, "I have sent you some clothes, if you will
not refuse them." Dear sir, what do you
mean? I am surprised at your expression. If
you had sent me an old pair of shoes or stockings,
should have been obliged and very thankful
for them, much more so for a present so large
and rich as yours, the value of which I so well
know, and I am persuaded they were never
yours for ten pounds. Dear sir, if at any time
you have an old garment to spare, hat or
anything else, I shall receive it with thanks, and
my family enjoy the benefit of it. What follows
I am ashamed to write, yet must own that your
present would have been more complete if you
had obliged me with a waistcoat along with it,