done speaking, the girl's head rested weeping on her neck. You're wet and cold," she added, as her hand passed over the girl's apparel; "come, my lasses have got a good fire, and there's plenty of bread and butter on the table." The girl, passive from grief and exhaustion, was led by Mrs. Gussett across the shop to the door.

The honest drayman, evidently urged by an irresistible impulse, followed the staymaker, and just as she had reached the street, touched her on the arm.

"Bliss ye mum, and little Ned here'd say it if he could; bliss ye mum-recollect my name's John Mason, as lives Number 3 Thompson's Court, just down the street here; and if I can be doing yer a little sarvis at in'ny time, I'm the one." So saying, he reverently pinched the tip of his sou'wester, and allowed Mrs. Gussett and the girl to cross the street.

The very first thing she did when she was safe within her own warm kitchen, was to place the weeping stranger in her own chair, pull off her soddened shoes, rouse up the fire to its very highest glow, send off two of the apprentices, one for a new seed cake, and the other for a few slices of tongue and ham, which might, she thought, tempt the poor girl's appetite; and then, only then, when her own bonnet and shawl were fairly off, did she unfold the green baize, lift out the teapot, and place it on the teaboard before the astonished eyes of her apprentices. They would not have been more startled had a little cherub with fair wings come in when the door was opened, and now first discovered its angelic presence.

My dear," said Mrs. Gussett, much touched, "go on. I've lived so much in the world, and have had so much to do with people, as to make me a pretty good judge of truth. Go on! I believe every word you say."

"My name is Madeline Barlow. My father kept a china shop in Oxford Street, for the sale of the more beauti. ful descriptions of ware, such as porcelain vases, jugs, brackets, and ornamental services. Some unusually fine specimens of modern pottery made him acquainted with a young Staffordshire designer named Hay, who coming up to London to attend a course of anatomical lectures, frequented our house, and at last entered into partnership with my father, who was glad by this means to secure his valuable assistance. He became tenderly attached to me, and the love being mutual, my parents, whose only child I was, agreed with pleasure to our engagement. My extreme youth was the only circumstance which delayed our marriage. Meanwhile, many preparations were made against its occurrence; amongst other things, Edward Hay designed a tea-service, and as he was often going down on business to the Potteries, he had it fabricated under his own immediate care. At last, when finished, and our wedding day fixed, it was sent up to town. Two days before it came, my mother died suddenly, and our marriage was of course postponed. My father took the matter dreadfully to heart; and so neglected his business when Edward was absent, that it soon fell comparatively away, and upon the sudden pressure for the amount of a large bill, which he had, quite unknown to his family, been persuaded to become answerable for, his bankruptcy was declared. He was too honourable a man to save much

"No, no, you're very right. It's this poor girl's, who has kindly lent it to us for to-night." Good soul, she would not say she had bought it, for her heart told her some touching story was annexed thereto. "And so, with her leave, we'll make a cup of good strong tea in it, and whilst we drink it, see how beautiful these flowers are. But stop, Maria, the tray must never be so sloppy with this teapot on it. Fetch a cloth, and just set the butter on a plate. We must be tidy, if we can!"

Oh, the wonderful influence of beauty on the souls of all of us! Even here it could not come without instant effect over rudeness, disorder, and the uncomeliness of unrefined life; for never, in the whole five-and-twenty years of her mistress-ship, had Mrs. Gussett ever once cared about the sloppy teatray, or ever once given her apprentices such a lesson upon untidiness.

With a preciseness which set quite awkwardly upon her, the good-natured staymaker poured out the tea, and attended to the wants of her guest,-now helping her to slices of tongue and ham, bread and butter, and cake, and then stooping, with all her heart in the office, to see that she was getting warm and dry. With her bonnet and thin shawl thus off, the girl was seen to be even more youthful; but what Mrs. Gussett more especially noticed was, the beauty and trimness of her hair, and the neatness of her dress, though so much poorer than that of any one of her journeywomen. As soon as tea was over, Mrs. Gussett, with her own hand, washed and set by the beautiful teapot, and after that, going busily to work again for a couple of hours, closed by nine o'clock, and dismissing her apprentices and women, provided a nice little supper from a neighbouring tavern, spread it on a small round table before the fire, and then sat down beside her guest.

"I did not say much before my women," she said, kindly, "for" and here she stopped and looked into the girl's face.

"I'm sure you ought to know all my story," spoke the girl, as she raised her truthful face, and looked full well into that of the staymaker's, "for though a sad one, it is short. And please verify its truth by any means you like. Please good friend, do this!"

lodging, and tried to add to our scanty means by teaching; but his health became soon so broken, as to oblige me to throw up my engagements, for the purpose of attending to him wholly. Our poor resources, as you may well suppose, soon dwindled away, and we were obliged, as our means thus sunk, to remove from cheaper lodgings to cheaper lodgings; for it unfortunately happened, that Edward Hay had lost money by my father's bankruptcy, which compelled him to give up his furnace, and seek for some situation, and thus we were deprived of even his assistance. At length, extreme want necessitated us to take shelter with an old servant, who rented a little shop in a street close by. She did all she could to assist us, though her means were very scanty; but, just a few weeks before my father died, we lost even this shelter, as some wealthy relations hearing incidentally of her difficulties, removed her to her native village in some distant part of the country. I was now obliged to part piecemeal with our few remaining valuables. One by one, and as a last resource, the beautiful cups and saucers, and plates, and cream jugs, and a lesser teapot belonging to the teapot you've bought to night," (No,' interrupted Mrs. Gussett with the tears in her eyes, not bought, but borrowed to be taken care of.') were sold or pledged, chiefly at one place, however; and you may think this was a last resource, indeed, when I had to conceal my so doing from my father, who would have perished, rather than what he knew I prized so much should in any way be parted with ;—and oh! Mrs. Gussett," and here the poor girl sobbed as if her heart would break, "he died three weeks ago; and as I knew Edward was so very poor, I did not write to let him know, till after the funeral, and for this last sad office, even my clothes went. Nothing was left but this large teapot, which I have tried to save, because I know Edward prizes it as a model. But I came out to part with it to-night, to try and raise the fifteen shillings I owe for rent. Now you know all-I am alone, I have no friends but Edward, and-" and here, half suffocated by sobs, she bent down, and buried her face in the staymaker's lap.

When she had dried her own tears somewhat, for they had flowed from a deep and true fountain, Mrs. Gussett raised up Madeline with all the tenderness of a mother, and the natural goodness of her heart shone out divinely.

"You shall never want a home whilst I have one, my dear, and if you will not despise a humble friend like me, I'll be one to the best of my ability and power. For when, some thirty years ago, I was a shopwoman in Oxford Street, I well remember your good father and mother, and the many little civilities they showed me, for our shop was next to theirs. So, my dear, don't cry any more; you have got a home and a true friend, such as they are."

Mrs. Gussett was too politic to quarrel with her customer. "Well," said the broker, sitting down on a chair, placed near the tea-table for him, whilst he examined a little strip of paper in his hands, on which stood a column of figures, this order for the English Sally, and the Bernares, outward-bound to New York and Calcutta, is fifty dozen in all; so I suppose I must give you twenty dozen, and Dobbs in the next street the other thirty. That's how it must be, eh?"

66

"As you please, Sir," answered Mrs. Gussett. "I'm always obliged by your custom, whether little or much." She said no more; though in her heart, she wished over and over again, for the whole order, which, when known, would make her look so respectable in the eyes of her neighbours.

With a tact which seemed habitual to her, so that no one's feelings could be hurt by acts which by necessity were tacit reproof of disorder and untidiness, poor Madeline soon effected a comparative reformation in the dull, large, dirty kitchen of the staymaker. First, under the charming, gentle pretence, that do what one would, summer dust and winter smoke will discolour and destroy the tidiest things; she re-tied all the littered, ill-wrapped stock in fresh brown paper, and put them, labelled and numbered, in neat array, along the great shelf which ran round the kitchen. She covered the great leaded pincushions afresh, got a new ledger, and entered all the accounts, both debtor and creditor, in a beautiful clerklike style; trimmed the ragged geranium, made Mrs. Gussett some neat caps, and did so many little things of this sort, and so unobtrusively, besides reading out through the long evenings from some newspaper or book, as to make all the apprentices and journeywomen, in spite that she was better bred, and so neat, and so very pretty, regard her too much to feel envy, and Mrs. Gussett to declare that she had never been so happy before in her whole life.

Several weeks had gone by, perhaps eight or ten, and Madeline had been made happy in hearing from Edward, who had now, though trade was dull, obtained some employment in Worcester, when Mrs. Gussett's birth-day came round. This good soul had for years kept it as a little festival; but this year, on its very morning, a sudden order for twelve pairs of stays, for a ship about to sail, came in, and all hands had, therefore, to keep at work through the day, in the hope of getting done by early evening-time. Mrs. Gussett, however, determined that the tea should be a comfortable one; so, though no one could lose a minute, the great plum-cake was cut up, the dish of extraordinary ham set forth, one small apprentice wholly devoted to the art of toasting, the best tea-tray, the best tea-things, the real silver spoons and sugar-tongs, and cream-jug, like a great butter-boat, were brought out, and Mrs. Gussett, in a new cap, with happy looks, and the glorious teapot before her, begged Madeline to make

tea.

broker looking up, saw the grand cake, the best tea-things, and the beautiful teapot. "Bless me," he said, "what have we got here? Why I never saw such a thing in my whole life; and I have, first and last, seen a good deal of foreign china. It's quite equal to anything I ever saw in an import of Sevres or Dresden china. Well, it is beautiful.”

He now drew his chair nearer to examine it more closely, praised it much, asked many questions, and at last became so complaisant as to take Madeline's proffered cup of tea, and a slice of the excellent plum-cake. By-and-bye as he rose to go, he said, "with your leave, I'll step in again somewhere about eight o'clock, and bring with me, my friend Captain Jinks, who has a particular taste in these sort of things." Mrs. Gussett cheerfully consenting, the broker withdrew, though without saying another word about the order. At eight o'clock, and by the time the day's hard work was finished and cleared away, he returned, bringing with him the captain, who proved to be a very well-bred man, and owner of several merchant vessels. He had traded much in the Mediterranean, and with the French ports-had bought much foreign china upon speculation, and reserved the best of it to adorn a small bachelor's cottage of his own near Gravesend, which a maiden sister kept trim and neat during his voyages. He admired the teapot immensely-said it was a glorious work of art, and an honour to its modeller, talked much to Madeline, seemed intuitively to guess the love story, which made every flower upon it so precious, tasted the wine and plum-cake, and ended all, by inviting Mrs. Gussett and Madeline to Gravesend the very next Sunday. Mrs. Gussett was in her glory; in her whole life she had never felt happier; and when on rising to go, the broker said carelessly, "I think, Mrs. Gussett, you'd better have Dobbs's order into the bargain-that is to say, the fifty dozen pairs of stays according to the dates and particulars of this invoice," her triumph, her satisfaction, and her joy, were at a climax.

A merry night was made of it. Nevertheless, before the hour was late, Mrs. Gussett dismissed her young people, and retired with Madeline to their chamber. It was a large room, full of good furniture, amongst which were two great chests of drawers, and an old fashioned buffet. The latter Madeline had never seen opened; but now, even before taking off her cap, and in a way quite solemn and full of purpose, the good staymaker drew a bunch of keys from her huge pocket, and unlocking it, took out an old fashioned leather pocket-book, and came and sat down beside Madeline at the foot of the bed.

to do. Now, in the five-and-twenty years I've been in business, I've saved a nice bit of money. Perhaps, with what's in the bank, in public securities, and in the pocket-book here, I'm worth two thousand pounds or more. I've been thinking, therefore, my dear, and please don't say a word till I've done, if you was to get married to Edward, and have part of this money to set up in a nice shop with in this neighbourhood, what a good thing it would be. People, my dear, call this part of London low, but they don't know the good place it is for trade, or the plenty of ready money always flowing up and down. Now, my dear, I've got a mortgage on the two next houses; one is empty, and the other will be so in a month; and I was thinking, if the two were turned into one, a nice shop-front set in, and well stocked with china and glass, and you and Edward married and settled there, how happy I should be. And the folks about mightn't be a bit the worse, for seeing beautiful things before their eyes, and buying them instead of the ugly things at Moses's. For I don't know how it is, but me and my girls have been better since the night your teapot came. What's more, too, my dear, I'll buy a new table, cover, a new teatray, and we'll have the teapot used every night, for just see what an order it's got me. If it hadn't been for your teapot, Madeline, Dobbs would have had the thirtydozen order, I'm certain." Thus Mrs. Gussett proceeded till far into the night; explaining, talking, confiding to Madeline all her secrets, and so planning everything, and so insisting that Madeline should accede to all which she proposed, as to make the grateful girl's heart overflow with intense joy and gratitude.

"And please, my dear, don't say another word of thanks," said the good staymaker in conclusion; and as she embraced Madeline, "I love you very, very much, and everything I have is yours."

Drest in her best, and very mysterious in her procedings, Mrs. Gussett went next morning to her lawyer, from thence with him to the offices of a builder in Finsbury, and made all necessary arrangements, that the two above-mentioned houses should be immediately converted into one substantial dwelling, with a private door, a good shop, and every comfort and convenience. She on this very same day, too, without saying a word to Madeline, ordered new and appropriate furniture, and after some difficulty, found out an old foreman of Mr. Barlow's, and consigned to his care, under the control of her lawyer, the stocking of the shop when it should be finished. And now, from this time, whenever Madeline was abroad, and she had a spare half-hour, Mrs. Gussett might be found searching amongst all the long-hidden treasures of her buffet, and chests of drawers, and boxes, producing several pairs of sheets, yellow from long disuse, but just as new as when they came from the loom, damask table-cloths, Russia towels, curious old shaped silver tea and table-spoons, and many other things, all declaring that some great event was at hand. But she managed to keep the secret pretty well.

According to her promise, a new cover was bought for the large table, a teatray as well, the beautiful teapot brought carefully out every afternoon, and its use confided to Madeline. Though now quite smart and elegant since Mrs. Gussett had found so many "useless" (heaven bless this category of fictions) silk and chintz gowns and remnants of rich lace in her drawers, Madeline Barlow had too good a heart to assume any command over, or to dictate to others, though she had often to secretly lament over the untidy and slattern household. However, a change, though a very slow one, had been for some time taking place; and now that the teapot began to be used, and the teatray looked so neat, it was observable, that more care began to be taken in handing about the bread and butter, there was less upsetting of cups, and a trifle more courtesy in every action; besides, what was still better, the most untidy of the sempstresses were now, a few minutes before the tea-hour, to be seen

adjourning to the little washhouse, there to set their hair to rights, to wash hands, and, perhaps, producing a neat collar and ribbon from reticule or pocket, set it trimly on before the looking-glass. Even Mrs. Gussett herself, began to talk of an afternoon cap; and as she soon began to find, that many of her best customers now called usually about the tea-hour, and mechanics' wives stepped in just then to inquire the price of articles in the window, her second best cap was brought down stairs every afternoon, and put on by tea-time. (To be concluded in our next).

EDUCATION.

BY WILLIAM MARTIN, ESQ.,

Editor of the "Educational Magazine," and Author of the "Principles and Practice of Elementary Teaching," " Philosophy of Education," &c.

EDUCATION is all-important at the present moment in England. The power of the State is brought to bear upon the question for good or for evil. There will be no lack of quacks, no lack of nostrums, no lack of patronage,

and the spirit of centralization sits like a spider in his web, spreading his filaments in every direction. It is necessary for the public to keep watch.

The object of this department of the Journal will be to give the public information concerning the progress of education in this country, to propound the great principles upon which education should be conducted, and to offer to the teacher and to the parent practical information concerning the teaching and training of the young.

There is sufficient interest in these matters to engage every one. The disciplining of the human mind, the development of the affections, the regulation of the pas sions, is a work that bears upon every department of human knowledge, and therefore must be one well calculated to arrest the attention, and to create itself an appetite by what it feeds on.

With us, education has long had, and still has, a mere utilitarian principle, without any regard to the higher relationships with which we have to deal. We are not in it taught to devote ourselves to thought for thought's sake, and to render adoration to truth because it is truth, but rather to look at our acquirements only as they may turn to our temporal advantage. In every city, in every town, in every country village, the leading man in the place, the man who has the most reverence, is the man who has the most money. Our age has been called a golden age. Money is, alas, the main-spring of most actions-the first divinity of modern idolatry. In the present day, the most sublime conquests are made by the cunning speculator; to produce money is the universal aim of all our efforts, and the finest monument of our national architecture is the Bank.

But true education has not exclusive reference to the life of the body, nor is it merely the means of pushing our way in the world, but a principle of universality. Let the soul have elbow-room to propagate the reign of truth. Man born in relation to infinity, has infinite hopes, infinite desires; and Knowledge, expanded, ennobled, and sanctified by truth, bears him to the most elevated heights, and brings his fallen nature again towards heaven. In these higher regions of the spirit, education, in its true sense, becomes the sanctuary of the great discoveries of every age, of the glorious inspirations of every country, and of the imperishable thoughts of characters venerated throughout all time.

The possession and preservation of our more sensual and corporeal existence is not the end of society. The true end is the life of humanity, that life in which Divine love displays itself the most entirely-the life of the spirit; and it is the life of the spirit with which education has to do, has an atmosphere of good created by the development of its powers, and those capacities that lie deep in man. The being who only lives to satisfy the exigen

You may easily recognise the Old Trades man. He is portly, usually has a red face and a bald head; his hat is generally peculiar, and his umbrella or stick, which he adopts as per weather, immense. In his dress he is one, and unmistakable; fashion is his abomination, and in general he is encircled in a waistcoat of dingy black, antique cut, and pockets of considerable utility; he affects a coat of rather huge dimensions, with continuations that have no pretensions to straps or smartness. He carries himself with the conscious dignity of "a man who has got on in the world;" and if you happen to be a stranger, the beams from his eyes, every one of which passes through a film of the precious metal, or a retina of lease or freeholds, will darken the light of your countenance with supercilious glances, until he is aware of your "respectability," i. e. metallic or parchment substance.

Every man has a stumbling-block in his path; it may be a mole-hill or mountain, it is his objective point, the focus to which shifts every subject before he looks upon it, and the Old Tradesman's rock-ahead is "progress ;" that word is to him what "impossible" was to Napoleon, and "difficult," to Nelson, a lexicographical excrescence, a lot of letters that had got together by mistake, alphabetical rebels to be expunged from the language. He ever impresses upon his hearers the necessity of going into mourning for the "Good time going." He asserts that "things" are not what they were, and that the world is turned upside-down; and insinuates, that he is the only one who still maintains in this planet his proper and natural relation to the antipodes. He will ask you, with insulted feelings, whether there are any boys now? and if you answer in the affirmative, he will contradict, and tell you that boys isn't boys now-that they are all men before they are netuer-garmented.

If your ill-fate leads your tongue to utter a word about che" international league," or the "peace movement," you had better have trodden upon a giant's corn, or pulled a hair from a freed tiger's tail; he will ask imperatively, "what you know of war?" He remembers "the war-time," when he was a boy; there was plenty of business then.

If you mention taxation, he will affirm that he has no objection to it, to none but a property tax-it is only vagabonds, men of straw, who want such a vile tax. As for other taxes, like war, they always seem to him to bring business with them; and as for the next generation, as it is called, he does not know that the last generation has cared a brass button for him, and why should he care for the next. He has a contempt, bordering on aversion, for young men; not because they are young men, but because they have generally a leaning to young ideas. He will chuckingly tell you, that while the young men think the old ones fools, the old ones know the young ones are." Of his own family he seldom speaks, except it be to show what an exemplary parent he is; he has brought all his boys and gals up to work, and precious hard, too; it did them good, and they'd know how to take care of themselves, besides its being good exercise. As for "early closing," it was his opinion that it was intended to rob tradesmen; the age was all gone mad, and, although he said it with reverence, the parsons who voted for it were mad, too. Let all the work be done when it was to be done; and as for young men, if they worked when they were young, they need not do it when they were old-that was his motto.

With regard to social topics, the Old Tradesman handles them after his own peculiar fashion. He entertains a mortal aversion to "Sanitary Reform." He likes not the new-fangled name of the thing, and he likes still less its first expense; but his principal and main reason for hating it is, that no such thing was wanted or heard of when he was a boy. In fact, he has an instinctive affinity with dirt; it is, in his opinion, the initial of industry, and he judges of the distance of a tradesman from the Gazette by the absence of cleanliness from his windows.

He looks upon education as a kind of arsenic, which being dropped upon one of the working classes, poisons the whole generation; he cannot see what knowledge working men want, more than that of knowing how to get their living. He is for the improvement of the mind on practical principles-such for instance as the Wellerian system, which expands the infant intellect on pavements, and the genial gutter streams of London streets. Of authors he entertains the most profound contempt, and terms them legalised vagabonds, except when he happens to be in the book-trade, and then he treats them as mental mechanics, who grind their brains to make his bread.

The Old Tradesman has a few judicial periods in his life, as, when he serves on juries. He then feels the rights of an Englishman, and endeavours to recollect something he has read about trials by jury. Notwithstanding he is a juror, he troubles himself but little about the meaning of the term, or its responsibilities; and although he grumbles at the waste of time, he knows his importance; he has some indistinct idea about being superior to the judge, as the jury decides the cases; but he is somewhat in awe of the judge, and leans a little to his lordship's way of thinking in the summing up, because he has upon his books a few forensic customers, ergo, the judges, or even a barrister's opinion, has a marvellous influence. He has a substantial style of talking, and accordingly his brother jurors elect him foreman. He knows a rogue by the colour of his hair, and is frequently so acute a judge of character, that he will find the accused guilty, in his own mind, before the indictment has been read. In these cases, he fancies himself an instinctive Lavater.

The Old Tradesman has but small faith in railways, and less in California. He likes nothing but what is safe; his maxim is, that more money is saved than made. He is full of wise saws of the penny saved, and penny earning order; and what is more, he acts upon them. In politics he calls himself a Tory; he does not like the Whigs, because he has been told they once had something to do with a revolution; but Radicals are his abomination; he thinks they are workhouses let loose, headed by the kings of the beggars; and on the whole, he has the same opinion of Radicals, that little boys have of ogres and giants-that they are waiting to eat him up. Socialism he does not understand the meaning of, but fancies he should not dislike it, as the name sounds rather jolly. If an election takes place, he becomes inflated in mind and body, and talks loudly of his independence, at the same time clapping his hands upon his pocket significantly, and he further proves his freedom of suffrage by the splitting of his vote between the rival and opposition candidates; and he regards with