have been used to a roving life. You have
never been accustomed to live by rule. But
you must have courage. You must do
something. And then think, what a man you'll
be, when you have learned to earn your
living honestly. Isn't it worth trying? As
it is, you are hated by the world; because
you live a cowardly life, being afraid to do
work yourself, and meanly stealing the work
of other people."

Nobody finally consented to allow the
Philanthropist to find a situation for him.

The situation was found, after much trouble.
A good-hearted joiner consented to take
Nobody, to teach him his trade, and to give him
a few shillings per week, to begin with. The
boy was to sleep still in the Philanthropist's
house, that some control might be kept over
him after his work-hours. And, well-dressed
for his work, young Nobody left his patron's
house, cheerfully, during a few mornings, to
serve his new master. The Philanthropist
was delighted with the success of his
benevolent experiment.

"Here, at least," said he, triumphantly,
"is one young creature, snatched from the
unholy ways of life!"

The Philanthropist awaited the result
patiently: and in less than a quarter of a
year a result was worked out and explained
by the following letter.

LABURNUM COTTAGE, May 19th.

MY DEAR SIR,—- You were kind enough, to
recommend to me, about three months ago, a little boy,
who had been a crossing-sweeper, or something of
that description, and who had been very good, out
of his scanty earnings, to his poor mother. I tried
him, as I promised. He had two good suits of
clothes, my wife arranged a box of good linen for
him, and he lived from our own table. He went on
very well during three or four weeks, when he
began to sulk. Presently he made excuses for neglecting
his work, and then he feigned illness. My wife
petted him; and the more he was petted, the more
exacting he became. The crisis came only yesterday,
when he and the cook quarrelled desperately
because the young rogue would eat nothing but
muffins for his breakfast. Bread and butter, said
he, did not agree with him. I saw now clearly
through the boy's character, and I have just sent
him back to you. Regretting that our little experiment
has not had a happier termination, I am, my
dear sir,

Very truly yours,

ALFRED JOYST.

The Philanthropist explained the motives
of the poor little lad, by attributing them to
his gipsy spirit. He had grown up free as a
wild man in the woods: and he had been
suddenly caged. He had been touched, too,
by the Philanthropist's kindness; but he
could not stand the bars.

By-and-by Nobody came back to his
Philanthropist; but only out of a grateful
impulse to say, " How d'ye do, sir?" He never
meant to stay. The Philanthropist does
not at this time know what has become
of him; but he does not despair. Perhaps
Nobody will end in her Majesty's service,
as possibly not the worst member in her
Majesty's fleet.

CHIPS.

A SMOCK-FROCK PARLIAMENT.

THERE are a great many Parliaments in
England. A philosopher would say, that the
Anglo-Saxon is a representative creating
animal. The truth is, that with all our
reserves and all our conflicts of opinion, we
Englishmen do, on the whole, know how
to pull together. There are associations
forming national, municipal, parochial and
social parliaments; and, although dukes
and earls meet in parliament, so also do
ploughmen and carters. Very orderly assemblies
are the business meetings of men in
smock-frocks. I believe we may find an
uneducated class at each end of the social
scale, and a blockhead in cambric is not a
bit less formidable than a blockhead in brown
holland.

Let any one who is daintily afraid of what
he calls the masses go and attend a business
meeting of the Chorleywood Association.
Chorleywood is near Watford, Herts, and
there by help of the Reverend A. Scrivenor,
incumbent of the parish, and Mr. William
Longman, its most active friend, an association
of the labourers was formed about four
years ago, at first meaning no more than
a provision of allotment gardens. Owners of
gardens became members. Subscribers of
three shillings a-year, whatever their position
in life, became members,— rich and poor
subscribed and met together as associates
when prizes were given for the famous
gooseberries, and for the best kept gardens.
After the annual distribution of these prizes,
rich and poor supped together, and the
labourers' wives sat with their husbands,
giving the right home charm to the festival.

From cultivating cabbage-beds the association
passed on to the digging—without prejudice
to the cabbages—into members' heads
with monthly lectures in the winter months.
There are but a thousand people scattered
over the three miles length of country known
as Chorleywood, yet two hundred will come
to a lecture. There now lies before us in fair
print one of these lectures, the first of a series
on the History of England by Mr. William
Longman. Addressed to the simplest
understanding and so rapid that it passes in an
hour's talk from the earliest times to the end
of the reign of King John, it yet gives a
right general idea of the beginnings of our
country, and is full of attractive and amusing
detail.

Of such lectures students in smock-frocks
make some effort to carry away notes. Prizes
are offered for reports of them. Of some
lectures there may have been twenty