is a good clever girl, and understands dress-
making and millinery, well. She works for
Madame Roland. I suppose she would easily
make a living in the parts you 're going to."

Mr. Jameson was quite agreeable that
Esther should be of the party; and Mr.
Grindlay undertook the charge of her outfit.
"But," said our friend, "before we proceed
farther, I must know who these young people
are; and that their friends have no reasonable
objection to our plan."

"They have no friends! " answered Mr.
Grindlay, shaking his grey head; " nobody
to make any objection, reasonable or otherwise;
but, as you are willing to undertake the
charge of them, sir, I think it would be only
right that you should know the exact truth."

This was the train of circumstances which
led to my acquaintance with the present story.

The parents of George and Esther Hammond
kept a small but respectable inn, in one of
the southern counties of England. The house
was not situated in a town, nor yet very far
from one, but it was a pretty rural spot, with
a bowling-green and garden; and it was a
common thing for the inhabitants of the
neighbouring city to make parties there on
Sundays and holidays, to dine and drink
cider; for which the house was famous. It
was, indeed, an extremely well-kept, clean,
comfortable, little inn, the merit of which
good keeping was chiefly referred by the
public voice to Mrs. Hammond: an
industrious, hard-working, thrifty woman.
She was generally reputed to be more than
thrifty. It was often remarked that when
Hammond himself was absent from home, the
tables were less liberally served, and the
charge higher, than when he was there to
moderate her besetting sin—the love of gain.
Still, she was an excellent wife, and a good
hostess; and she was devoted to her husband
and her two children, George and Esther.
In short, she was a woman who took everything
in earnest, and she loved her family, as
she worked for them, with all her energies.
She loved her children wisely, too: for she
was extremely anxious to give them the best
education she could afford; and, although, as
was consistent with her character, she kept
them somewhat rigidly she was essentially a
kind mother.

Hammond's character was different. He
was by nature an easy, liberal, good-natured
fellow, with a considerable dash of cleverness
and a very well-looking person. In youth he
had gone by the name of "Handsome George;"
and was still an universal favourite with his
friends and customers. The only disputes
that ever occurred between Hammond and
his wife, arose out of those agreeable qualities.
The guests were apt to invite the host into
the parlour to drink with them; and when
Handsome George once had his legs under
his own or anybody else's mahogany, he was
not disposed to draw them out for some time.
If this happened on a Sunday—when there
were more parties than one to attend—his
wife would get angry, and accuse him of
neglecting his business. The husband's
imperturbable good-humour, however, soon
allayed the irritation.

At length the time arrived when the two
children were to leave this pleasant home, to
learn something beyond reading and writing,
to which their acquirements had yet been
limited. They were accordingly sent away
to school.

As the business of Hammond's Inn was
not sufficient to keep it always lively, the
absence of the children was very much felt. The
mother was perhaps not less sensible of the
privation than the father; as many an
involuntary sigh testified. He lamented loudly;
and, when there was no business to engage
his attention, went listlessly about with his
hands in his pockets, or sat gloomily at the
door, puffing at his pipe, and spreading the
fumes of his tobacco over the jessamine and
wild roses that overran the porch. "When
company came, however, he was merrier;
and, when he was invited to " make one," he
was apt to drink more freely than formerly.

In process of time, however, a circumstance
occurred that diverted Hammond's attention
into another channel. A few convivial fellows
residing at Tutton, proposed to get up a club,
to meet every Saturday night; the winter
meetings to be held at an inn called the
King's Arms, in the town, and the summer
meetings at Hammond's Inn; the members to
be elected by ballot. To this last rule,
however, there was one exception, and that was in
favour of Hammond himself.

"It was no use ballotting him" they said;
"nobody would give him a black ball. He
was pleased with this testimony to his
popularity; and, in spite of some misgivings on
the part of his wife, he addressed his mind
heartily to the new project, and fitted up a
room, to be held sacred every Saturday night
for six months in the year to these convivial
meetings.

The chief originator of this scheme was
the host of the King's Arms, whose name
was Jackson. He was what is called a jolly
fellow; extremely fond of company, and able
to sing a good song. The other members
consisted of tradesmen residing in the town,
and some of the upper servants of the
neighbouring nobility and gentry. Amongst these
last was Mr. Grindlay.

Everybody concerned was delighted with
the new club; except, perhaps, the wives of
the clubbists, who did not look forward to
the Saturday nights with the same satisfaction
as their husbands. More than one
of them was heard to say that it was a good
thing Saturday came but once a week,
and that if it came oftener, she, for one,
wouldn't bear it. Hannah Hammond,
although not a woman to express her feelings
publicly, did not like his club, in spite of the
profits derived from it. She saw that Hammond