she had herself said so about the Cow Club at
B——. She had told many people how the
cottagers at B——, were now saved from all
danger of ruin by the loss of a cow—a loss fatal
to so many cottagers elsewhere. The farmers at
B——, who could ill afford to lose from nine
pounds to fifteen pounds at a stroke by the
death of a cow, had joined with the cottagers
in setting up a Cow Life-insurance. The club
employed a skilful cow-doctor. The members
paid in a small portion of the weekly profits
of their milk-selling; and had the comfort of
knowing that, whenever their cow died, they
would be supplied with another, or with a
part of the value of one, according to the
length of time, or the yearly amount they had
paid. Charlotte admitted that she had been
delighted with the scheme, but now asserted
that she was much more pleased about the
Quakers and their ship.

"Ha! Quakers?" said Mr. Ellison.

Yes; those Quakers, now, were the sort of
people whom Charlotte admired. So
unworldly! so trusting! There was a rich
India ship, belonging to some Quakers, lately
wrecked in the Channel, very near her port.
The whole cargo was lost. It had been a
total loss to the owners, because their
principles would not allow them to insure—to put
themselves out of the hands of Providence,
and speculate in "the stormy winds fulfilling
his word." That had been their statement;
and was there not something very beautiful
in it? Charlotte looked at her father for an
answer.

"Tell me, first, my dear," he replied,
"whether you admire Tasker, the shoemaker,
for refusing to have his children vaccinated,
saying that it was taking them out of the
hands of the Lord?"

Charlotte could not think of poor little
Mary Tasker, disfigured and half blind, and
not wish that she had been vaccinated; and
yet Tasker had acted in a resigned spirit.

"Well: exactly as much as you admire
Tasker, I admire your Quakers. I honour
their motive, but I am sorry for their
mistake—sorry that they refuse one safeguard
against worldliness."

"Worldliness, papa!"

Mr. Carey explained how the moral
dangers of commercial pursuits are in
proportion to their gambling character. Large
gains and great hazards must be more
engrossing to the mind, and more stimulating
to the passions than small and secure profits.
The great drawback upon commerce with
very remote countries is, or was, its gambling
character, from the variety and seriousness of
the risks, and the largeness of the profits laid
on to cover them. By means of insurance
against sea risks and other dangers, the
losses are spread over so large a number that
they cease to be losses, and become a mere
tax, such as men may willingly pay for
security. When a man has so introduced
moderation into his gains and his losses, as to
detach himself from "the cares of the world
and the deceitfulness of riches," he may listen
with a quiet pulse (as far as his own affairs
are concerned) to the wind roaring over the
sea, and need not be "afraid of evil tidings."
It was quite a new view to Charlotte that
her Quakers had been gambling, in fact, when
they should have been trading safely; but
she could not deny that it was so. Nobody
wished her to give them up, in regard to
their spirit of faith and trust; but nobody
could stand up for their prudence.

The most striking view to Charlotte was
that there is nothing accidental in storms and
tempests; and that it is only our ignorance
which makes us call them so. The realm of
Meteorology is, no doubt, governed by laws
as invariable as that of Astronomy. We
know this fact, though we, as yet, know little
of these laws. Something more we know:
and that is, the average of shipwrecks and
conflagrations, in a certain condition of
society; in the same way that we know the
average of men that will die, out of a certain
number, in a certain time: and it is this
knowledge of the averages which justifies the
resource of insurance in all the three cases.
When Mr. Ellison at length comprehended
that there were thousands of prudent men
now paying their mite to compensate him for
the loss of his new furniture, in case of its
being burned, on the simple condition of his
paying his mite also, he was so struck by
their neighbourly conduct, that he could
scarcely express his sense of it. The ladies
considered it impossible that he should feel
so strongly, and be heedless about the
condition on his own part. Mr. Carey shook
his head.

Mr. Carey was right. The wedding–day
came, and the insurance was not effected.
Joanna did not like to tease her betrothed
about worldly affairs. If the subject was
mentioned, and the train of thought revived,
he went into an enthusiasm about the benevolent
class of insurers: but he did not become
one himself.

            CHAPTER THE SECOND.

The wedding-day came and went. The
young people were married and gone. Mr.
Ellison's flock were assembled, almost entire,
in the parish church, for the first and last
time. In those days, dissenters could not
marry in their own chapels, or anywhere but
in church; and the present was an occasion
when the clergyman of the parish appeared
to great advantage, with his kind courtesy
towards his dissenting neighbours. The
whole affair was talked over from day to day,
during the wedding-trip of the Ellisons, in
the intervals of Charlotte's business in
preparing their house for their return. Then
began her sisterly relation towards the pastor
beloved by so many. Her reverence for him,
and her pride on Joanna's account, made her
consider his dignity (in spite of himself) on