enlightened community like this. He's a man that's always talking about doing justice to all, and keeping up the reputation of the state, and a great deal more stuff of the same sort; but it's all humbug! nothing else; and he has an axe of his own to grind, just like the rest of us. And worse than

all, gentlemen, as you very well know, he's one of these tee-totallers, that are trying to coax free-born Americans to sign away their liberty, and make hypocrites of 'em. I'm a man that will never refuse to take a glass of grog with a fellow-citizen because he wears a ragged coat. Liberty and equality, I say-Hurrah for liberty and equality! three cheers for liberty and equality, and down with the tee-totallers!"

The orator had been so attentive to the tumbler, that the sincerity of the latter part of his speech at least could not be doubted, and indeed his vehemence was such as to alarm Seymour, who felt already somewhat ashamed of the cause he was bound to advocate, and who feared that a few more tumblers would bring Tim to a point which would render his advocacy unavailing. He therefore sought an opportunity of a few moments' private talk with the candidate, and ventured to hint that if he became so enthusiastic that he could not stand, he would have very little chance of sitting in the legislature.

Now, Mr. Rice liked not such quiet youths as our friend Seymour, and especially in his present

elevated frame did he look down with supreme contempt upon any thing in the shape of advice on so delicate a subject, so that Seymour got an answer which by no means increased his zeal in Mr. Rice's service, though he still resolved to do his best to fulfil the wishes of Mr. Hay.

Rice's conduct throughout the day was in keeping with the beginning which we have described, and such was the disgust with which it inspired Seymour, that he at length concluded to quit the field, and tell Mr. Hay frankly that it was impossible for him to further the interests of so unprincipled a candidate.

41

CHAPTER XXXVII.

It was sweet,

Yet sad, to see the perfect calm which blessed

His look, that hour.

MRS. HEMANS.

Touch us gently, Time!

We've not proud nor soaring wings;

Our ambition, our content,

Lies in simple things.

BARRY CORNWALL.

MR. HAY felt exceedingly vexed, and not at all well pleased with Seymour, and visited his anger upon him, as old gentlemen will do upon young ones sometimes, by saying some things rather hard to bear. Tim Rice had always been very much under restraint when in Mr. Hay's presence, and from his quickness and readiness as a business man had acquired no small share of his good gracesa sort of habitual liking which sometimes goes further with us than a better-founded esteem would do.

So Seymour was in disgrace all day, which called forth the sympathies of the fair Caroline, who was but a soft-hearted little thing after all, and prone to take part with misfortune in any shape. She told him that her father was really ill, as indeed any body might observe, and that he

was only a little cross now and then, and so good all the rest of the time that it made up for it and a good deal more, and such like maidenly topics of consolation; and Seymour was consoled; though evening brought intelligence of the complete defeat of Mr. Rice, and Mr. Hay was more pettish than ever. Mr. Rice had found listeners and cheerers during the lucid exposition of his sentiments, (which we were empowered to give through the kindness of an able reporter,) but when it came to the matter of actually putting into office a person of such accommodating views, the sober farmers had quietly cast their influence into the other scale, and elected a candidate who never made a stump speech in his life.

The very next morning, when Mr. Hay arose from the breakfast table and laid his hand on the great Bible as a signal for the commencement of family worship, that hand dropped powerless at his side, and he sank helpless, though not insensible, upon the floor. He tried to speak, wishing to reassure the terrified family, but no sound emanated from those revered lips, and in a few moments more he sank back with closed eyes and the pallor of death upon his countenance.

It was evidently an apoplectic seizure, and there was no physician within four miles. The agonizing distress of all may be conceived by those who have witnessed such scenes under such circumstances, but of these the dweller in the close

packed city can have but little idea. What then was the relief of Mrs. Hay, when Seymour asked to be allowed to bleed Mr. Hay, saying that he had learned the art with an especial view to such emergencies. He was hailed as a minister of mercy, and when he performed the office with ease, and when returning animation was the result, not a member of the family but could have knelt at his feet to bless him for the kind forethought which had prompted him to acquire so inestimable a knowledge.

When Mr. Hay was in some measure restored, it was found that his right hand was almost useless, and that he was otherwise much disabled by this sudden attack. Seymour attended him constantly, and was made to hear, oftener than he wished, the regrets of his kind old friend at thought of that day's pettishness.

"You were right, my boy, and I was wrong, but you must lay it all to the apoplexy. And here, you see, I am justly punished by being obliged to call upon you for aid all day long. But we are poor helpless creatures, and we who live in the wilderness, above all, must learn to bear with each other's infirmities, since no one knows whose turn may come next, and money will not buy what we need."

This is a truth which we are daily made to feel; mutual kindness is often our sole dependence, and the character of a good neighbor is the one most coveted.