it was impossible to do any more business. Bessemer came no more to the smithy to be shod. In a few months the bailiffs swept away almost the whole contents of John's mansion, and ere long, gathering together the shattered wreck of their property, the blacksmith and his family retired to a low, poor part of the town, depending for a subsistence on John's diminished power and skill at the anvil, and on the arduous exertions of his faithful Margaret.

per

All, even now, might have gone well with John, had it not been for that wretched spark in his throat. But ever it burned, and glared, and scorched, and blistered him; and he never could be persuaded to forget it for more than two or three hours together. The attention of his wife, of his children, and of all the neighbours was continually being recalled to it, not only by the constant efforts he made to quench it, the unquenchable; but also by the remarkable way in which it lighted up his whole head, keeping his cheeks as in a state of petual inflammation, shining out especially all over his nose, bloodshotting his eyes, baking and cracking his lips, and parching all the interior of his mouth. The devices he resorted to, to quench it, were most pitiable. First he stuffed his mouth full of his children's school-books, which he tore up for the purpose; and this he did, caring only to appease the spark in his throat, and disregarding altogether the loss of his children's education through their inability thenceforward to present themselves at school. One day he would be cramming their Sunday clothes down his throat; the next he would be cooling the spark with pieces of their shoes and boots. Then he would select his own clothes, or his wife's, to thrust into his mouth, declaring that otherwise the spark would grow quite intolerable; until he had not a coat nor a garment of any kind. that was not a mere fabric of rags, and until his wife was so denuded that she was ashamed to go out into the streets, unless it were after nightfall.

If I were to describe minutely what varied materials all went the same way, in vain efforts to quench that terrible spark in the throat, I fear my readers would scout this narrative as being altogether incredible. Suffice it, therefore, to say, that beds and bedsteads, tables and chairs, bricks and mortar, house and home, all went by degrees the same miserable way; until his wife almost lay down to die in utter heart-brokenness and despair; and until, pitying their constant state of destitution and starvation, death came at length and took away to a kinder world poor little innocent Winifred and Walter. About the same time John Strongitharm fell under the care of the parish doctor in the Workington work

house; and ere long, in spite of all his faithful wife could do to prevent it, John's bones were rattled over the stones, as is usual with paupers owned by nobody.

After that, by the assistance of friends, poor Margaret was put into a little shop, and by hard work and tight pinching managed to maintain herself bravely till the end. Often have I seen her, making her way slowly up the easy-sloping path that enables even the aged and the feeble to reach the summit of the mountain that overlooks Workington-cum-Wearing. On the top stands a church, through the east window of which, on a clear day, it is possible to get a glorious view of the great Fairy Forest. In order to succeed in the effort to do so, it is necessary to take a leaf of the Waybook alluded to in a previous part of this paper; and rolling the leaf round so as to make a tube of it, to hold it up to the eye, after addressing some words of humble, heartfelt invitation to Him who is Lord of the township and the Forest, and holds them both in the hollow of His hand. Then, immediately overhead appear angels of God, who bring wonderful lenses in their hands. These lenses are made of condensed light, clear as crystal, and like unto a jasper stone most precious. Through a telescope thus made, would poor, bereaved, storm-tossed, yet faithful Margaret gaze; and by its aid see clearly that great and marvellous Forest, with its gate almost close to her, and ready in a very short time to acknowledge for ever the mastery of her now nearly-completed key. With tears of rapture she would greet the Forest of her youth, come again close within sight, having in it all that made it then delightful; and not only all that, but things unspeakable, which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive. There, also, in those glorious glades, or in the magnificent palaces and gardens, she could see from that mountain top her Winifred and her Walter, so near that she could even hear their joyous greetings, and behold them stretch out their arms to welcome their rapidly-approaching mother. Her husband she never sees, for the merciful owner of the Forest has so constructed it that no one who enters it lawfully can so much as remember a single one of those, however near and dear they may once have been, who have fully had the opportunity, and have failed to use it, of obtaining their true and rightful Forest key. For neither can any old unhappiness, nor the cause of it, be recalled by those winners of the key whom that Forest finally receives; because from their eyes all tears are wiped for ever; it is theirs to eat of the Tree of Life; and to them the Fairy Forest glorified is the Paradise of God.

'WHA

MRS. MAYFLOWER'S STORY.

THAT a face that woman has!' said my friend to me, as we were walking together one misty September morning between the overshadowing yews and hazels of Salterley Lane.

'You mean a fine face, I suppose ?'

Exactly. Not that she's what people call a handsome old woman; but there's something peculiar about her, and something, too, that reminds me of my mother, and she was one of the finest women I I should like to know her history.' ever remember.

That was just what I thought a day or two ago, so last night I persuaded her to tell it me, and the result lies in a slip or two of paper in my waistcoat pocket.'

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So, that's the reason you left us to finish the croquet game without and cheeks you! Ah, Master Richard, I've found you out! But don't you rosy think you're a queer young man to leave bright eyes for a spell with wrinkles and gray hair? I can't say I admire your taste, though in this instance I won't blame you. That old woman's me; and her very name's romantic-Mrs. face possesses even Mayflower! Out with her history, old boy-let's have it, pure and perfect, with a spice of the Arabian Nights in it!'

What! you haven't done with lollypops yet? I should have thought your wisdom teeth had rejected twist and toffy by this time. My old woman's history has no valley of diamonds or Aladdin's palace in it. But still she has had her magic lamp, if you will let me call a true affection by that name; and an acquaintance of hers has been haunted by a tyrannical old man of the sea as much as was ever Sinbad-a fatal companion that you and I had too much of once when we were shooting on the moors together five or six years ago. Do you remember?'

Isn't My friend Wood uttered a groan of disgust before he replied. Now do leave temperance alone, my dear fellow, for once. there enough of mist and dulness outside, without you pouring cold water into me by pailfuls by the recital of some horrid miseries that you choose to imagine proceed from those poor, dear, innocent charmers of existence, wines and spirits.'

Nay,' said I, is it my fault if miserable mortals find brandy a deceiver and wine a snare, and come to grief in consequence? You asked for the woman's history, and I gave you a hint as to its tenour. If I had dropped you unwarned into the purgatory of Now, I have saved you drink, I think you might have blamed me. any undue palpitations and trepidations, and, like a considerate Virgil, have told you beforehand what are the peculiar punishments and troubles you are about to meet.'

If Wood had been a Frenchman he could not have given a more expressive shrug of the shoulders than that with which he prefaced his On with you! I know you'll manage to pour the tale into me before the day is over, whether I will or no, so I may as well take But let me fortify the medicine at once, and have done with it. myself against its consequences.' And, with a laugh and a look of

Put the

mock defiance, he took from his side pocket a small flask of brandy, and was about to put it to his lips, when a voice close to us exclaimed, Would you kill yourself, body and soul, young man? bottle down! I've seen the evil of it! I've seen the evil of it!' We both started at the unexpected voice, and, turning round, saw an elderly woman of tall stature, bearing on her head a pitcher of water that she had apparently filled from the spring now gurgling by the roadside not far from us. As though anxious to avoid further observation, she passed quickly before us, and disappeared behind a shielding corner of hazels that guarded the entrance to some fields, before we recovered from our surprise sufficiently to speak. Like a vision of the night, she had come unheard and unheeded, and like a vision she passed out of sight, almost as soon as she was recognised. Wood watched her for a moment, and, when she was gone, turned to me and exclaimed in a loud aside, Talk of the- and he's sure to appear! Our friend at the cottage, by all that's queer!' It was in truth the woman we had just been talking about. We had left her a few minutes before, peacefully weeding in her garden; she had risen up from her work, and given us the pleasant country 'good morning,' that is so freely bestowed upon the greatest strangers; and we certainly had not expected to see her again so soon. But here she had been nevertheless, with rebuke upon her lips, and a certain air of quiet command in her eye, that was not to be resisted. Wood could not conceal his annoyance at her opportune reproof; but he slowly replaced the flask in his pocket, and then, as though ashamed of his obedience, asked me in a tone of banter Why I had called up such a horrid spirit to disturb his peace of mind? For,' he went on, I shall certainly not believe her to be anything else. A ghost at the theatre couldn't have managed it much better ! I raise my bottle to my thirsty lips. "Down!" says the hobgoblin, "Drink not! Beware!" And when I turn round to see the inconvenient ghost-presto! begone!-she is offvanished-mizzled--like the smoke of a chimney, and nothing of her left! Don't tell me she's a living woman, unless the gift of fern-seed is still in the world.'

6

'If you will look behind these nut trees, you will find the mystery made clear,' said I. Here's the homeward path across the cornfields; by this nearer way, no doubt, our ancient friend came to the spring. And see! there she is now, with her pitcher on her head, nearly half a field off; and though she certainly casts no shadow, for the very good reason that there is no sunshine, she has no unearthly look about her; and her pitcher is solid enough, every inch of it-good, well-baked, highly-varnished clay. Look, and be satisfied!'

Ah,' said my friend, shaking his head mysteriously, it's all very well to talk of well-baked clay, and so forth; but how am I to tell whether that patch of red and brown yonder, that you call a woman with a pitcher, is not a delusion of the senses-an airy nota phantasm? Begone, foul vision! we'll none of thee! Wi there to be no more cakes and ale in the world? Are we

have our flask of creature comfort on such a rhimy morning as this, because you choose to forbid it? Begone! I say, and drink your pitcher full of the cold, washy element if you will; but leave to me the bright, the strong, the cheerful helper and comfort of man, called alcohol! What would life be worth without it? Avaunt, spirit! and leave to me the brandy which I love! As a proof, witness this.' And the flask went to his mouth in earnest this time. 'Ah, that's something like!' (After a tolerably heavy draught.) 'That's what I call warming and comfortable! Take a drop, my dear fellow! You don't know how good it is! You will see the world through fresh spectacles-you will find life quite another thing. No? Then I'll have another, to keep the bottle in good humour. Why do you look so solemn? Don't you know that, like a bad boy, I always do just the opposite to what I'm told? It's so tempting to vex folk! your friend the old lady with the pitcher hadn't been quite so imperative, perhaps I should have obeyed her better; as it is, you see what happens.'

If

I said little in reply, reserving my fire for a better opportunity, knowing well that this humour of his was not a favourable one to work upon. We reached our place of destination about noon-a quiet mere among the hills, the home of certain fish that we had an ambition to catch. The mere was a fine, solemn sheet of water, lonely and silent as we could desire; and after a little preliminary wandering, we undid our fishing tackle, fixed our bait, and sat down under the shade of some gray willows. The mist had by this time partially cleared away, and its remains, ragged as an old curtain, hung trembling on the further edge of the water, leaving the sky above us blue and lustrous with the warm soft glow of autumn sunshine. We enjoyed with double zest this bright termination to a dull morning; and Wood, who was always more of a talker than a fisherman, began presently to moralise upon the gullible nature of fish in general, that permits them to be caught by the snare of a bright-bodied fly, a sham and a delusion, containing in its bosom a quarter inch of piercing, deadly steel, instead of a morsel of comfortable meat. "Talk of pity!' said he scornfully, after he had deposited a panting fish upon the grass, 'how can we pity such gross stupidity?' And as he said this, he threw his line afresh into the dimpling water, and fixed his bright, keen eye upon the float with the look of a man that feels himself superior to all the weaknesses of humanity as well as of fish. It seemed to me that his scorn was misapplied, and sat ill upon him; and I ventured to tell him so. The fish who has been saved from having the hook in his jaws more by hap than by cunning, should talk modestly of the mishaps of his companions. With all your wisdom, it seems to me you are in one respect own brother to that poor, dying grayling, and are as ready to snap at a painted fly as ever he was. The only difference between you is, that he is hooked and done for, and you are still at liberty. But how long will you continue so? especially as you are fond enough of the deadly bait to carry it always about you.'

'Peace, man of one idea!' he said, laughing. 'You put me in