louder, "that if you had it you 'd pay it; but
what I say, is this;—it's a burning shame
that you haven't got it!"

Mr. Plumley entered the house with the
firm determination that not another ounce of
tea should be supplied to the family, on credit,
until his bill was paid. But as he passes the
kitchen door to go out, he cannot look the
servant in the face without saying, "Well,
Mary Anne; any orders this morning?"

Before Mary Anne can inquire of her
mistress, her master has returned to the
parlour. He is the picture of despair. Mrs.
Crample has much ado to keep up sufficient
spirit to cheer him. The younger children
retire, and a consultation begins as to what
can be done to obtain some respite from their
difficulties, and pay bills off by instalments.
"If," says the head of the house, "I could
only borrow a sufficient sum from my
stipend, it would relieve these poor, patient
tradesmen!"

Jane, who has read every advertisement
for governesses in the "Times" twice over,
here ventures to suggest that nothing could be
easier. "Look here, papa," she remarks, pointing
to the front page of the Supplement. "A
gentleman named N. G., who dates from
Cecil Street, Strand, London, addresses
himself particularly to clergymen; for the
advertisement is headed, 'To CLERGYMEN (AND
OTHERS) IN DIFFICULTIES.' He says he is
prepared to advance, by way of loan, any sum of
money, from ten, to ten thousand pounds, on
personal security."

The curate takes the newspaper from his
daughter, and scans the notification carefully,
over and over again. He cannot exactly make
out the signification of "personal security."
Mr. Carmichael Crample is a profound
Greek scholar. In mathematics and
theology he brought away high honours from
college. He can dissect a Pindaric ode, or
construe a crabbed passage from any of the
Latin Fathers, better than his bishop. But,
of the ordinary transactions of life he is as
innocent as his own baby. He does not
know the meaning of "personal security"; but
in order to learn, there will be no harm in
inquiring. Mr. Crample is sure, from the
very end and purpose of the advertisement,
that N. G. must be a benevolent rich man,
and will give a prompt and clear answer.

Mr. Crample immediately indited an epistle
to Cecil Street, Strand, London, to go by the
next post. It gave a candid statement of his
wants and wishes (viz., fifty pounds
immediately). It also set forth his income, to show
that he would be able to repay the loan
punctually by the instalments he proposed.
He concluded with a request that N. G.
would be kind enough to explain the exact
nature of the security required.

By the very next return of post there came
a letter, which the curate opened with a
trembling hand; and, having first glanced it
over silently, repeated it aloud to his anxious
wife, in a voice faltering with joy. It ran
thus:

"REV. SIR,

"Yours of yesterday came duly to
hand. Though we seldom negociate with parties
for small transactions; yet, under the particular
circumstances of your case, are not averse.

"Our system of doing business is always to
ascertain the perfect respectability of parties
before we undertake commissions, &c., and are
happy to state that (as a matter of business), we
bave made the necessary searches at Somerset
House, and find your living to be as you state.

"Time being, no doubt, an object, we enclose
a Bill of Exchange for amount required, viz:
fifty pounds, at two months; renewable, if not
quite convenient for you to meet, in whole or
part. You have merely to sign your name under
the word 'accepted' written across thereof, and
remit to us; with post-office order for our
charge for searches (as per account below),
stamp, &c., and we will forward you the amount,
less discount and commission, immediately.

"We are,

"ST. JOHN CLARE, THOMPSON, AND CO.

On the second morning, came another letter
from Messrs. St. John Clare, Thompson, and
Company. "Nothing," said Mr. Crample,
with a smile, "could be kinder than these
gentlemen; and I really marvel how, being
utter strangers, they can be so considerate.
They cheerfully agree to my last proposal.
All I have to do, is, to put my signature to the
document, and return it by post."

The villagers of Crookenden had, of late,
seen almost as little of their perpetual curate
as of their vicar; and when he did go abroad,
he appeared dejected and unhappy. The very
day, however, on which he sent off the
accepted bill, a change came over him. He
went out. He patted all the children on the
head; he looked in at the school; he promised
a little girl who read the list of hard names
in the Genealogical Chapter of Numbers without