Popjoy would arrive, and preparing a severe
attack upon his carelessness and stupidity
in taking such a place, without a thorough
investigation of Mr. Gasper's flowery
statements.

About half-past eight, one of the children
(my little girl) ran out of the door, and by
the window, and shortly afterwards I saw Mr.
Popjoy coming over the gravel heaps,
looking very tired, with a great carpet-bag
in one hand, and a basket in the other. He
put these things down, to kiss the child, who
bounded towards him, delighted at his return;
and, for some reason, at that moment I forgot
all my indignation—the damp walls, the
nailed-up parlour, the ponds, and the Banded
Brothers of Freedom—and went to the door
to give him a welcome, as our little child had
gone before me.

The bag and basket, as I expected, contained
a curious mixture of food, all thrown
together,—meat, grocery, and fruit, with one
or two toys, and some pastry-cooks' pies for
the children. Those children who had gone
to bed seemed to be aware of the arrival, and
there was a commotion up in the loft (I cannot
call it a bedroom), until the expected
purchases were taken up and shown, with a
promise that they should be punctually
delivered in the morning.

I learned from my husband, by degrees,
over the supper table, that the General
Freehold Society of the Banded Brothers
of Freedom had turned out to be nothing
but a well-organised swindle, Mr. Gasper,
the leading rascal, having disappeared, and
the offices in town (where Mr. P. had called
that very day to ascertain why the workmen
were not completing our premises) being
cleared of everything except a dusty fixture
desk, and a few shreds of paper thrown into
the fireplace. My husband admitted he had
made a great mistake; but he did not tell
me he had drawn fifty pounds from his
employers, by Mr. Gasper's pressing request,
the whole of which had been handed over to
that crafty manager, with the idea of keeping
the carpenters and bricklayers in motion.
I did not find this out until some time afterwards,
when he got very shabby in his dress,
and I then discovered he was paying it off
by degrees out of his savings.

The next day I went to town with Mr. P.,
and, finding the house we had left a few
weeks before, still vacant, I took a lease of it
for one-and-twenty years. As we were
moving away from the Freehold Land
settlement, a few days afterwards, just as I had
locked up the empty house, and was turning
to follow the vans, I saw three gentlemen
standing by Mr. Popjoy, the eldest of whom,
a fat, red-faced man, seemed to be the
spokesman.

"My dear," said my husband, as I came
up, "will you see to this? There appears to
be a little difficulty."

"We are here," said the fat gentleman
pompously, "to demand possession of those
premises."

"Which," I replied, "I must respectfully
decline to give, without compensation."

"Compensation! " shouted the fat gentleman.
"Compensation! Are you aware that
you are squatters?"

"I am aware that my husband," I
answered, "has sunk between one and two
hundred pounds upon those premises, which
I intend to have back before I give up the
key. '

"Very well," returned the stout gentleman,
"very well; the whole thing—the whole
place—is a swindling, squatting settlement,
from beginning to end, and ought to have
been nipped in the bud. Jones, serve notice
of ejectment."

My husband received from one of the
other gentlemen, a piece of paper, which
we have carefully kept for many years. We
still retain the property at the gravel-pits,
which we visit, for amusement, now and
then; and the memory of the fat, testy
gentleman with the red face, has almost died
away. Perhaps he has died away also, and
his successors have lost my husband's
address.

             A SABBATH HOUR

I HAVE the privilege—and that is a
great privilege I am perpetually being
reminded—of residing in the most respectable
city of the most respectable nation in
the universe. "How will it look?" and
"What will they say?" are the questions
which it is so continually propounding to
itself, that it has forgotten, in many of its
internal, regulations, to consider "How will
it do?"

The indomitable virtue of its edicts, therefore,
contrasting themselves occasionally with
the weakness of our mortal nature, has
obtained for it; from some, the designation
of the City of Whited Sepulchres. I need not
say, however, that such persons (who are
rather numerous nevertheless) are by no
means taken any account of by our citizens,
but are spoken of by them with a pity that
is not very much akin to love, as The Godless.
Our city washes its hands of them—a moral
ablution at once so inexpensive and satisfactory
that it performs it on the slightest
provocation—and is pure. It was but lately
proposed by one of our rulers, that no vessel
shall be permitted to start upon the Sabbath
from our city's port, and when some unregenerate
member of the council suggested, that that
would not prevent the ship arriving upon the
Sabbath day at the ports of others, he was
met with the characteristic observation of
"that is their own look-out."

We do not indeed altogether object, I
think, to see the wicked misbehaving
themselves; it affords us a pleasant comparison,
imparts a certain sense of security, and