Prejudice upon prejudice died in its own
rottenness ; even " vested interests " began to
dread that they, like the flies of summer,
must perish when the corruption that begat
and fed them should be fully spent. Stationary
horse-ponds, drains that bubbled over the
pavement, a churchyard in which the dead
might have shaken hands with the living at
their first-floor windows, all found an unflinching
adversary in the new vicar. Low pothouses,
and other establishments even less
respectable, came summarily to an end.
Atheistic debating societies were shamed into
silence ; publications, in which cheap excitement
was combined with moral destruction,
were driven, as bad stock, into the filthiest
alleys, which even old St. Carrabas had viewed
with horror.

It would be a foolish exaggeration to
suppose, and a more foolish one to assert, that
these noble and mighty changes were wrought
all at once, or without much opposition—
opposition that at times would have daunted
the boldest. Several years had been spent
in this arduous, but most fruitful labour, and
yet day after day presented fresh objects for
assistance or reformation. Those who saw
the Reverend Botolph Fleming chatting at an
evening party, with a few select wits or first-
rate scholars of the day, little thought how
many hours of his daily life were spent
among those who were dead to wit or scholarship,
but whose minds were as precious as
those of the wittiest.

Thanks to human nature! this admirable
priest, this true, practical Christian, had
plenty of supporters in his glorious exertions.
Sensible merchants who had remained steeled
to misery, because they understood it not,
relaxed their hatred of poverty, and their
purse-strings also. Flippant people found
themselves look ridiculous when they
attempted to shirk the opportunities of doing
good which were presented to them.
Although the Rev. Botolph Fleming was too
experienced and too wise to spend a farthing
above his income, he drew handsomely from
his own means, and saw where, and for what
purpose, every farthing went. A spirit of
emulation was aroused, and no one marvelled
when a couple of handsome district churches
appeared in rapid progress. The common
phrase was, " Leave it to the vicar;" and, once
left to him, it was strange if a satisfactory
result was not produced. But then he always
chose an active churchwarden, active curates,
(he kept three, two of whom he paid out of his
own purse,) active schoolmasters, active
everybodies. With vestry speakers he never troubled
himself, and they troubled him but little.

But while we have been talking so long
about the vicar, we have forgotten his
daughter, who is really the object of our story,
—seventeen years old, with dark searching
eyes, dark glossy hair, of middle height,
faultless figure, and with a smile never
changing, save for a tear of pity. But this
is no joking subject, and many dashing young
gentlemen, who had more of dress than brains,
and who danced much better than they talked,
found it so, to the cost of, in some cases, four-
and-twenty hours' peace of mind.

For Margaret Fleming, besides being
provokingly pretty, was provokingly sensible and
clever. She did nothing ill. When a little
girl, she dressed her doll as well as she afterwards
dressed herself. She had never
displayed her juvenile scholarship by asking her
younger schoolfellows to spell C. I. R. C. U. M.
F. O. R. A. N. E. O. S. or I. N. C. O. N. T. R. O. V. E. R.
T. I. B. L. E., but yet she always said her lessons
well ; and when her mother died, and left her
only darling to comfort her noble husband,
her father became her teacher, and—we need
say little more.

Miss Margaret was, in fact, as active as her
papa; saw as much good and bad society, (we
speak conventionally, of course); waltzed
delightfully and sang delightfully at a party, and
was up early the next morning to visit some
infant, charity, or Sunday school. No one
ever heard her allude to the probable motive
of her leaving many an agreeable company at
an early hour ; but many a sick sufferer could
have told them. She belonged to no " select
sisterhood," for they would have abhorred a
young lady who wasn't afraid of dancing even
the Deux Temps. She did not adopt any
eccentricities of fashion, nor revive any play-
at-being-nun's sort of costume, but simply
wore whatever she thought became her, and
looked like what other young ladies wore.
She did not believe in tract-distributing, but
she never laughed at those who did ; she
was not great at fancy fairs, but she made all
her own clothes, thereby saving no small
proportion of her papa's liberal " clothes and
pocket-money " allowance, and distributing it
to a good purpose. Altogether, Miss
Margaret Fleming was as perfect a lady as her
father was a gentleman ; and despairing of
saying anything higher in her praise, we will
come to matters of fact at once.

Among all the many matters in which Miss
Margaret was her papa's best help, one, which
he had most at heart, was also her chiefest
care. This was what the newspapers called
a Refuge for the Destitute.

A rough, well-built brick and wood building,
of large extent, and admirable internal
division, bore this sad but grateful title.
Some worn-out stabling, and the warehouse
of an extensive dealer in rags, bones, and
bottles, had given place to the present structure;
and its cleanliness and cheerful look of
homely plenty, presented a painful but
welcome contrast to the poor objects who daily
and nightly sought its bounty.

But this " Refuge " was not merely an
ingenious attempt for driving the destitute and
profligate from one parish to another, or for
finding employment for the police, in default
of its answering that purpose. A rough,
wholesome, plain meal or meals, an equally