rising with a smile. Indeed, the captain spoke
with a mingling of fatherly kindness and authority,
which it was not easy to resist.

"Good night, and good rest to ye. Ye'll
awake in the Emerald Isle. I expect we'll be
in, about saven to-morrow morning."

A loud grating and clanking of chains, the
heavy tread of feet, and a confused noise of many
voices, roused Mabel from a dreamless sleep, and
she hastened to dress and go on deck. They
were in Kingstown harbour, lying close alongside
the quay, and the sun was shining
brightly on the dancing waters. Many times
afterwards Mabel looked at and admired the
beauties of that beautiful Bay of Dublin, but
now she scarcely saw or observed them, so
anxiously were her eyes employed in scanning
the faces on the quay above the vessel. Porters
and carmen were shouting and gesticulating
with wonderful vehemence, all talking together,
and at the full pitch of their lungs; leaning
over the iron railing were two or three gentlemen,
but Mabel could not fancy any of those to
be her cousin. She was beginning to fear that
he had not yet arrived to meet her, when she
heard Captain Duff's voice behind her, saying:
"Here she is; this is the young leddy;" and,
turning round, encountered the inquiring gaze
of two round merry blue eyes belonging to a
young man dressed in a loose coat and slouched
hat, and with the ends of his neckerchief fluttering
in the morning breeze. Mabel looked at
him doubtfully for a second, and then
inquired: "Are you Jack?"

"Of course I am Jack," replied the young
man, seizing her hand and shaking it heartily.
"I am Jack; but are you Mabel? That's
the question. Gracious, how you've grown!
How glad I am to see you! How are you?
Won't mother be delighted! Come along!
Where are your boxes? That black one, and the
little canvas-covered one? All right. You've
got no bandboxes, and that's a blessing! Wait
here one instant, and I'll get a porter directly.
Now then! Come along! The railway takes
us into Dublin, not two minutes' drive from
where we live."

Mabel, pausing a moment to say good-bye to
Captain Duff, and thank him for his kindness,
was surprised to see Jack interchange cordial
greetings with the old Scotchman.

"Oh, ay," said the latter to Mabel, "Mr.
Walton and I are auld acquaintance. I'm quite
comfortable about ye, now I know whose care
ye're consigned to. Make my best respects to
your mother, Walton. She's a fine person; a
very fine person." Which eulogium in the
captain's mouth meant something very different
from the interpretation most English people
would put upon it.

Mabel was hurried by her cousin into a
railway carriage, and soon rattled into a dingy
station. Then she confusedly descended several
stone steps to the street, was placed on one side
of an outside car, balanced by Jack on the
other side, and her trunks in the middle; and
after a short rapid drive, was deposited at the
door of a small neat house in a wide straggling
half-built square, and found herself in a cheerful
room with breakfast spread, a bright tea-
kettle singing on the hob, and, amidst a chorus
of "Here she is!" "Here's Mabel," "Darling
child," "Welcome, welcome!" was clasped in
the arms of Aunt Mary.

END OF BOOK II.

OLD STORIES RE-TOLD.

PETERLOO.

ON Saturday, the 31st of July, 1819, the
Manchester reformers, wishing to appoint
Orator Hunt "legislatorial attorney" for their
city, issued an advertisement in the Manchester
Observer inviting their friends to meet on the
9th of August in the area near St. Peter's
Church; the alarmed magistrates pronounced
the meeting illegal, and warned the citizens
on their peril to abstain from attending it.
Meanwhile, as the magistrates had refused to
attend to the petition from the reformers for a
meeting, the original promoters gave notice that
a meeting would take place in St. Peter's Field
on Monday, the 16th of August; Mr. Hunt in
the chair.

Before we proceed, let us look back a little.
There can be no doubt that the Spafields
riots of 1816, trifling as they were (for the thirty
thousand rioters did nothing but plunder a
baker or two and a gun-shop), had very
much alarmed the Tory party and Lord
Sidmouth, as they showed a restless discontent and
an angry impatience for reform—very natural,
as it seems to us now, but very irritating to the
Chinese politicians then. It must, indeed, be
allowed, that about this time the frequent arrests of
supposed conspirators had converted many
violent men into dangerous plotters; but broken-
down swindlers like Thistlewood were not the
men by whom our modem reforms were really
originated. The pressure of the old war still lay like
a heavy nightmare on the industry of England.
Firm after firm went down like card-houses in
1818 and 1819. The cotton-spinners who had
traded during high prices were ruined in great
numbers, and their workmen suffered with them.
On the 13th of July, 1819, when the Prince
Regent (a man at the head of the country, but at the
tail of the age) prorogued parliament, he spoke of
the disaffection in the manufacturing districts,
and propounded that great axiom still so popular
with the Anglo-Chinese politician, that no
disaffected persons, meeting under the pretence of
reform, had in reality any other object than the
subversion of the constitution. It was this
notion, highly convenient to all opposers of
progress, that set the unreasoning sabres going at
Peterloo. The proclaiming political opponents
as seditious and dangerous persons is one of
the most ingenious stratagems ever adopted by
the opponents of progress, and is a trick by
no means yet played out.

The manufacturing labourer is by no means
so stupid as the agricultural labourer, and he