tape,—he nevertheless felt some slight approach to hesitation and shame-facedness when he first hinted the expediency of this measure. But his embarrassment was instantly relieved by Mrs. Mowbray's cordial assurance that she rejoiced to hear such a manner of concluding the business was possible, as she knew it would give their "excellent minister" pleasure to see his cousin.

There is no Christian virtue, perhaps, to which a serious widow lady is so often called (unless she belong to that class invited by the "exemplary" in bevies, by way of charity, when a little teapot is set between every two of them,)—there is no Christian virtue more constantly inculcated on the minds of rich serious widows than that of hospitality; nor is there a text that has been quoted oftener to such, or with greater variety of accent, as admonitory, encouragingly, beseechingly, approvingly, jeremiadingly in reproach, and hallelujahingly in gratitude and admiration, than those three impressive and laudatory words,—

"GIVEN TO HOSPITALITY!"
During a snug little morning visit at the Park, at which only Mrs. Mowbray and Fanny were present, Mr. Cartwright accidentally turned to these words; and nothing could be more touchingly eloquent than the manner in which he dwelt upon and explained them.

From that hour good Mrs. Mowbray had been secretly lamenting the want of sufficient opportunity to show how fully she understood and valued this Christian virtue, and how willing she was to put it in practice toward all such as her "excellent minister" should approve: it was, therefore, positively with an out-pouring of fervent zeal that she welcomed the prospect of a visit from such a man as Mr. Stephen Corbold.

"It is indeed a blessing and a happiness, Mr. Corbold," said she, "that what I feared would detain me many days from my home and my family should be converted into such a merciful dispensation as I must consider your coming to be. When shall you be able to set out, my dear sir?"

"I could set out to-morrow, or, at the very latest, the day after, if I could obtain a conveyance that I should deem perfectly safe for the papers I have to carry."

Helen shuddered, for she saw his meaning lurking in the corner of his eye as he turned towards her one of his detested glances.

"Perhaps," said Mrs. Mowbray, hesitatingly, and fearful that she might be taxing his great good-nature too far,—"perhaps, upon such an urgent occasion, you might have the