more, but that I would see Mr. Grindlay, if
he would call on the following day.

"By-the-bye," I rejoined, as the young man
was leaving the room, " we said nothing about
wages ; what do you expect ?

" Whatever you are accustomed to give," he
answered.

"Very well; I'll speak to Mr. Grindlay
about it."

It was the situation he was anxious about,
clearly; not wages.

On the following morning Mr. Grindlay
came.

"You are well acquainted with this young
man? " I said.

"I have known him since he was that high,"
he answered, placing his hand on the table;
"and you can't have a better lad; that I'll
engage."

"He is honest and sober?"

"You may trust him with untold gold;
and as for wine or spirits, such a thing never
passes his lips."

"But he has been under your guidance,
Mr. Grindlay," I answered; " he is young; do
you think he will be able to stand alone?"

"I've no fear of him; none whatever," he
replied. " To say the truth, he had an awful
lesson before his eyes in regard to excessive
drinking. Such a lesson as he'll never forget."

"Indeed! " said I. " His father?"

Mr. Grindlay shook his head. I made no
further inquiry then; but agreed to engage
George Hammond.

At first, he was so anxious to please, and
so nervous lest he should not please, that he
tumbled up-stairs in his hurry to answer the
bell, and very nearly broke my best decanters.
His hand so shook with agitation, when
I had friends to dinner, lest he should be
found deficient, that I momentarily expected
to see him drop the plates and glasses on the
floor. However, we got through this ordeal
without any serious accident; and by
degrees I discovered that I had found a treasure
of fidelity and good service. He lived with
me for six years, and then, to my regret,
we parted; my only consolation being that
our separation was consequent on a plan
formed for his advantage.

During the first years, I knew nothing
more of George's history than I had gathered
from Mr. Grindlay's significant hint at our
only interview. I concluded that in that hint
the whole mystery was revealed. George's
father had been a drunkard, and his vice had
probably ruined a decent family. The
appearance of George's only visitor, his sister,
Esther, confirmed this view; she looked so
respectable and so dejected! She never came
but on Sunday, and then I was always glad if
I could spare George to take a walk with her.
After I had learnt his value, I gave him leave
to invite her to dine, and to remain the evening
with him, whenever he pleased. He told
me she worked with a milliner in Pall Mall;
and I observed that she always wore black,
which I concluded she did from an economical
motive. She seemed very shy ; and
I never troubled her with questions.

George had been, with us upwards of five
years, when we were visited by an old friend
whose home was on the opposite side of the
earth. He had returned to England, partly
to see his relatives, and partly to transact
some business respecting a small property he
had lately inherited. During his sojourn he
frequently dined with us; and, whilst at table,
we did not fail to ply him with questions
regarding his experiences in the colony he
inhabited. " The great difficulty of getting along,
as we call it," he answered, one day, " lies in
the impossibility of gathering people about
us, upon whom we can rely. I have made
money," he said, '' and have no right to
complain; but I should have made twice as
much if I had employed honest and intelligent
men."

"You should take some abroad with you,"
I replied.

"I purpose to do something of the kind,"
he answered, " and, by-the-bye, if you should
hear of any honest, intelligent young man,
who can write good plain English in a legible
hand, and who would not object to seek
his fortune across the water, let me know."

George was in the room when this was
said, and I involuntarily raised my eyes to his
face. When I read its expression, a twinge of
selfishness brought the colour to my cheeks.
"Now we shall lose him," I said; and we
did lose him. A few days afterwards, Mr.
Jameson, our colonial friend, told us that he
was afraid his conversation had been the
means of seducing our melancholy footman.
He had found an extremely well- written letter
on his table, signed " George Hammond,"
expressing a wish to accompany him abroad,
and dated from our house, which he had at
first imagined was a jest of mine. " But I
find it is from your servant," he continued;
"and I have told him that I can say nothing
until I have consulted you on the subject."

"I am afraid I can allege nothing against
it," I answered, " if he suits you, and wishes
to go. A more trustworthy, excellent person
you never can meet with."

"And what are his connexions? " inquired
Mr. Jameson; " for I would not be accessory
to taking any young man out of the country
without being sure that he was not doing
wrong in leaving it."

For this information I referred him to
Mr. Grindlay; with whom an interview was
arranged. Mr. Grindlay entered so warmly
into the plan, that he declared himself willing
to make some pecuniary advances to
promote it.

"It is not necessary," said Mr. Jameson.
"I shall be very willing to undertake all the
expenses of outfit and voyage."

"You are very good, indeed, sir. But,
added Mr. Grindlay, "George has a sister,
who would break her heart if he left her. She