system he has established is "a commonalty,
founded on fraternity and equality, on
education and work."

The American journals also afford a favourable
account of the progress of Nauvoo. It
will be a matter of philosophical interest to
see how a colony, founded on social impulses,
will advance in comparison with another
founded on religious ones.

THE HIGHEST HOUSE IN
WATHENDALE.

CHAPTER THE FIRST.

HIGH up among the mountains of
Westmoreland, there is a valley which we shall
call Wathendale. The lowest part of this
valley is some hundreds of feet above the
heads of the dwellers on the nearest mail
road; and yet, as if such a place of abode
was not near enough to the sky, there are
houses as high up as they can well be put, in
the hollows of the mountains which overlook
the dale. One of these small farmsteads is as
old-fashioned a place as can be seen; and
well it may be so; for the last owners were
fond of telling that the land had been in their
family for five hundred years. A stranger
might wonder what could carry anybody up
to such a place five hundred years ago; but
the wonder would only show that the stranger
did not know what was doing in the district
in those days. Those were the days when
the tenants of the Abbots of Furness used to
hold land in the more fertile spots, in
companies of four,— one of whom was always
to be ready to go forth to fight in the Border
wars. And those were the days when the
shepherds and herdsmen in the service of the
Abbey used to lead their sheep and cattle as far
up the mountains as they could find food,— to
be the better out of the way of the marauders
from the north. Besides the coarse grass of
these uplands, there were the sprouts of the
ash and holly, which were a good food for
the beasts. To be sure, there were wolves,
up in those lonely places; but they were kept
out by rough stone walls, which were run up
higher and higher on the mountain side, as
the woods receded before the tillage of new
settlers. The first of the Fells, who made
their boast of a proprietorship of five hundred
years, was probably a shepherd of the Abbots
of Furness; who, having walled in some of the
sprouting and sheltering wood on this upland,
and built himself a hut of stones in the midst,
became regarded as the tenant first, and then
the proprietor, like many of the dwellers in
the vales below. When the woods were
decayed and gone, the croft came under tillage;
and no tradition has told of the time when
the Fells did not yearly crop, in one way or
another, the three fields which were seen from
below, like little patches of green beside the
fissure which contained the beck (or brook)
that helped to feed the tarn (or mountain
pond) a quarter of a mile below.

There was grumbling in this mountain nest
about the badness of our times in comparison
with the old days;-- grumbling in a different
dialect from that which is heard in our cities;
but in much the same spirit. In this house,
people were said to be merrier formerly,— the
girls spinning and weaving, and the lads finding
plenty to do in all weathers; while the land
produced almost everything that the family
wanted,—with the help of the hill-side range
for the cows and sheep. A man had not to
go often to market then; and very rarely was
it necessary to buy anything for money, though
a little bartering might go forward among the
Dalesmen on occasion. Now —— But we shall
see how it was "now."

Mrs. Fell and her daughter Janet were
making oaten bread one December day;—a
work which requires the full attention of two
persons. The cow-boy appeared at the door,
with a look of excitement very unusual in him.
He said somebody was coming; and the somebody
was Backhouse, the travelling merchant.
The women could not believe it, —so late in
the year; but they left their baking to look
out; and there, sure enough, was the pedlar,
with his pack on his shoulders, toiling up the
steep. They saw him sit down beside the
barn, and wipe his brows, though it was
December. They saw him shoulder his pack
again; and then the women entered into
consultation about something very particular that
they had to say to him. As people who live
in such places grow dull, and get to think
and speak with extraordinary slowness, the
plot was not complete when the pedlar
appeared at the door. He explained himself
quickly enough;—had thought he would make
one more round, as the season was mild,—did
not know how long the snow might lie when
it did come,—believed people liked to wear
something new at Christmas; so here he was.
When would he take his next round? O! when
the weather should allow of his bringing his
stock of spring goods. He detected some
purpose under the earnestness with which he
was pressed to say when he would come. He
would come when the Fells pleased, and bring
what they pleased. He must come before the
first of April, and must bring a bunch of
orange flowers, and a white shawl, and—

"Two sets of the orange flowers," said Janet.

"What! two brides!" exclaimed Backhouse.
"Are they to be both married in one day?"

Mrs. Fell explained that there was to be a
bride's maid, and that Janet wished that her
friend should be dressed exactly like herself.
Backhouse endeavoured to prove that only
brides should wear orange flowers; but Janet
was sure her friend would be best pleased to
wear what she wore; and the pedlar remembered
that nobody within call of the chapel
bell would know any better; so he promised
all that was desired. And next, he sold half
the contents of his pack, supplying the women
with plenty of needle-work for the winter
evenings. Brides enjoy having a new