situation; but from all I can learn, I can do
much better in America. I can there farm
a much better farm of my own. We can have
a much finer climate than this Peak country,
and our countrymen still about us. Now, I
want to know what makes a man's native land
pleasant to him?—the kindness of his
relations and friends. But then, if a man's relations
are not kind?—if they get a conceit into them,
that because they are relations they are to
choose a man's wife for him, and sting him
and snort at him because he has a will of his
own?—why, then I say, God send a good big
herring-pool between me and such relations!
My relations, by way of showing their natural
affection, spit spite and bitterness. You, dear
wife and sister, have none of yourn to spite
you. In the house we have peace and luv.
Let us take the peace and luv, and leave the
bitterness behind.'

There was a deep silence.

'It is a serious proposal,' at length said
Jane, with tears in her eyes.

'What says Nancy?' asked James.

'It is a serious proposal,' said Nancy, 'but it
is good. I feel it so.'

There was another deep silence; and James
Cheshire said, 'Then it is decided.'

'Think of it,' said Jane earnestly,—'think
well of it.'

'I have thought of it long and well, my
dear. There are some of these chaps that call
me relation that I shall not keep my hands
off, if I stay amongst them,—and I fain would.
But for the present I will say no more; but,'
added he, rising and bringing a book from his
desk, 'here is a book by one Morris Birkbeck,
—read it, both of you, and then let me know
your minds.'

The sisters read. On the following Lady-
day, James Cheshire had turned over his
farm advantageously to another, and he, his
wife, Nancy, and the old servant, Mary Spendlove,
all embarked at Liverpool, and transferred
themselves to the United States, and
then to the State of Illinois. Five-and-twenty
years have rolled over since that day. We
could tell a long and curious story of the
fortunes of James Cheshire and his family: from
the days when, half repenting of his emigration
and his purchase, he found himself in
a rough country, amid rough and spiteful
squatters, and lay for months with a brace of
pistols under his pillow, and a great sword by
his bedside for fear of robbery and murder.
But enough, that at this moment, James
Cheshire, in a fine cultivated country, sees his
ample estate cultivated by his sons, while as
Colonel and Magistrate he dispenses the law
and receives the respectful homage of the
neighbourhood. Nancy Dunster, now styled
Mrs. Dunster, the Mother in Israel—the
promoter of schools and the councillor of old and
young—still lives. Years have improved
rather than deteriorated her short and stout
exterior. The long exercise of wise thoughts
and the play of benevolent feelings, have given
even a sacred beauty to her homely features.
The dwarf has disappeared, and there remains
instead, a grave but venerable matron,—
honoured like a queen.

LETTER FROM A HIGHLY RESPECTABLE
OLD LADY.

GRACIOUS, Mr. Conductor (which is like an
omnibus) what a nice new journal you have
got! And 'Household Words ' too; that's
what I like! I've often thought that if the
world could hear my household words, some
people would be wiser for them. Sir, if you
are not above receiving advice and information
from an old woman, I will give you
some. I will just chatter to you as I do to
the boys and girls down in my part of the
country here, without any ceremony, I have
bought two pens and a quire of paper, and
I'll write down a few things; but my spectacles
are bad, and my pen is not over steady.

I may observe, in limmony, that you will
soon discover me to be a well educated woman.
I have lived a long life, and have always
picked up knowledge fast, taking four meals
of it a-day. Especially, you will find that my
medical attainments are considerable. I'm
not one of your women who go costing their
husbands a whole till-full of money every
year for doctor's bills. As a mother of a
family—and—though you wouldn't believe
it, Mr. Editor, if you was to look at me—I 've
had as many as eighteen,—I felt it my duty,
as the mother of a family, to acquire the
knowledge that was necessary for the
preservation of my children's lives. I have bought
or borrowed a large number of medical books,
and studied them so well, that if the dear
children had been spared me long enough,—
whereas thirteen died young, and one an
infant, which was quite owing to the nurse
having forgot to give it its Godfrey three
nights running,—if they had all lived, I should
have been surrounded by a very healthy
family, and they would have owed to me,
every one of them, their blooming looks. Of
the five that survive, Edward is delicate, and
Tom is rather daft, but the other three are in
strong health, and prove what a blessing it
was their mother took such care of them.

Some one of you gentlemen has been a
writing about Lucifer-matches. Lucifers,
indeed! Is that your improvement of the
people? Yah! If folks were wise they
would send Lucifer his matches back, and
not be indebted to him any longer for them.
None of us ever lost our jawbones over a
tinder-box in my young days. But you must
have improvements. Don't you know that you
pay for civilisation with health. Look at me.
I am eighty-two; but we used flint and steel
when I was young. Turn to the British and
Foreign Medical Review of a few years ago,
there you will see what I mean. There's
an account in it, of the new disease begotten
by lucifer-matches; by the phosphorus. It's