that he might leave the place at once if the cholera had been there. He was assured repeatedly that no case of cholera had ever occurred in the house, and accordingly took possession of the bed; but, in the morning, feeling some misgivings, he inquired of the neighbours on leaving the house, and was told that a man had died of cholera in that very room the previous morning, and that his corpse had only been removed for interment an hour before he entered the house. I really believe the poor fellow was frightened to death."- "To death," exclaimed Lady Monfort, " you do not mean that he is really dead!"-"I do indeed," replied Colonel Ormeston: "I did not leave him till he had breathed his last; and before I came away, our excellent clergyman had joined us." He could not have had time to enter his own house after he left you. Mrs. Hilton had already read the Bible to the man, and prayed with him; and when Mr. Clare appeared, we all joined in prayer, for the dying man retained his senses to the very last. Every precaution has been taken, and I cannot say that I think the disease is likely to spread in the town, for as I said before, and the medical men agree with me, the poor fellow has died as much from fright as from cholera; or rather the cholera seems to have been brought on by the dreadful panic which the mere idea of that disease seems to create in the minds of some persons."

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CHAPTER VIII.

A FURTHER ACCOUNT OF ARLING FORD.

THE cholera did not appear again in Arlingford; and after a few days the people began to regain their confidence. They had shunned Mrs. Hilton, and almost forsaken her husband's shop, and had looked very suspiciously upon Miss Grant, though she had not been permitted to remain with the dying man, being at that time in very delicate health. The family at the Priory began to see much more of Mr. and Mrs. Clare; and Lady Madalena was not ashamed to confess, that until she had become acquainted with the Clares, she had not an idea how much might be done by, and how much was required of the leading persons in a parish. Miss Ormeston was permitted not only to shake hands with the Miss Clares, but to accompany them to the school, and to teach a class of children there; and the good effect of her example was soon perceived; for Miss Maria Adams, and many others of like character, found out that they also could spare time to attend to the children of their poorer neighbours,

without any risk of catching all sorts of diseases or soiling their dress; and though their motive at first for attending the school was certainly not the most commendable, they soon reaped the benefit of doing so; for it was the plan of Mr. Clare to assemble the Sunday-school teachers, and to instruct them how they might best instruct others; and when they began to discover their own ignorance, they were well prepared to feel for the more deplorable ignorance of the poor; and when they were taught to know and to prize the wisdom of godliness, and Him, who is the wisdom of God, namely our blessed Redeemer, it became a delightful privilege to them to impart to others what they had themselves received.

Old Mr. Adams had made another journey from the north, to attend the christening of his daughter Katherine's second child. He indeed talked of passing the remainder of his days with her and her husband; for, while he was at Arlingford, his eldest son died after a short illness, and as he died unmarried, the old man felt that Katherine and his son William

had now the first claim upon him. Many persons commiserated him on his leaving his own home, and breaking up his long fixed habits in his old. age; but he told them with a smile that they spoke as if he was to live for ever in this world: that he had a house of clay to leave, perhaps at a short warning, and that however fixed his habits might be, they would be broken up by the last enemy

time quite unforeseen to him : and he bade them

all remember that the immortal spirit of man is but a tenant at will under God in the body. Mr. Adams saw with delight and with high approval the change that had taken place in the family of his son William during his absence; and he rejoiced to find that their chief friends and daily companions were Mr. Hilton and his wife. Indeed, every one who came within the influence of the Hiltons seemed to receive some benefit from their instructions or their example. Walter Grant, their apprentice, of whom but slight mention has been made, might, had it not been for them, have turned out an idle and worthless member of society. Much as he respected his uncle, the quaker, and his aunt Rachel, no one had any influence over him but Mrs. Hilton. He had, before he came to Arlington, been on the point of joining a troop of strolling players, and, after he had taken up his residence with the Hiltons, he had been very nearly led astray by the pernicious counsels and profligate example of Randal Thorncliff. After the departure of the latter, he had still been subject to flights of folly: he had taken to reading at every leisure moment the poetry of Lord Byron and Mr. Moore, till he fancied himself an unknown genius, and wasted his time in putting ideas, that were utterly common-place, into inflated language and wretched rhyme: he had even troubled Mr. Clare with the perusal of his absurd effusions, but Mrs. Hilton, with admirable good sense and real kind

ness, was the means of winning him to better things, and he is now a very well-conducted and useful member of society.

Many years had not passed away, when the following account of Emily Withers, the last account that ever reached Arlingford, was brought thither by a young man, a surgical student, who was visiting his friends in the neighbourhood. Randal Thorncliff, who was a man of first-rate talent, though always a worthless fellow, had risen very high in his profession. He was sitting one morning in the receiving-room of the hospital where he lectured, and putting down the names of the patients who applied on that, the appointed morning of the week, for admission. Few persons who had remembered him a handsome youth at Arlingford, would have recognized him then. His clear complexion had become sallow, his features sharpened, his bright hair had been long exchanged for a closefitting wig, and the expression of his whole countenance had become soured, perhaps partly from disease, the effects of which might be plainly seen in the yellow whites of his once fine and expressive eyes. He was in an unusually bad temper, having quarrelled that morning with his rich but vulgar wife, and signed, at her positive request, a deed of separation from her. He could not refrain from finding some fault with the piteous creatures whom he was admitting to the hospital. "And you," he said at last, to a pallid and emaciated woman