her that she would like
to see what was going on, as Miss Croply would allow no looking out at
the low creatures; so nearer and nearer to the street did Lily wend,
till a boy--are not boys at the bottom of all mischief?--raised the
shout that she was wearing Mr Cloudesly's colours; the phalanx then
surrounded her, and improvised the triumph which we witnessed. The
_Tattleton Chronicle_ was remarkably full upon it. I think, till this
day, Lily is regarded as a devoted heroine by all the Tories of
Tattleton, for there are Tories there still. But we had a splendid
wedding at our church, under Mr Stopford's very nose, before he went
to parliament. I can vouch for old Tom and Miss Croply leading off a
country-dance the same evening in Prior Cottage; but it is
two-and-twenty years ago. There is a tombstone over the old man and
his wife. Miss Croply has left her bank deposit to three nieces.
Sommerset Cloudesly grew less fidgety long ago, and some people say
less genteel, but he brews the best beer, and makes the best cider now
in the county. There are ten children in the brick-house, but Mrs
Cloudesly looks as composed as ever; and when her husband reads to her
at work on the winter nights, as he dutifully does, in the newspapers,
she sometimes remarks, at the close of long parliamentary debates, to
which Sommerset was always partial: 'What trouble those people have in
that House of Commons, my love! Wasn't it really good for you that you
lost the Tattleton election?'

SAILORS' HOMES.

Our readers may probably have from time to time read allusions to
'Sailors' Homes,' without precisely understanding the nature of these
institutions. They are based on the fact that sailors, as a class, are
little better than children when ashore, and require to be providently
cared for, to save them from imposition and misery. The seaman when
afloat is so thoroughly accustomed to obey orders, and to be directed
and instructed in everything, that he never thinks for himself, and
never acquires the least forethought or capability of guiding himself
in any position apart from the active duties of his profession;
consequently, from time out of mind, he has been especially doomed to
be victimised on the land. No sooner has he been paid off after a
voyage, than he is--at least at all the great ports--beset with
'crimps,' 'runners,' and other land-sharks, who entice him to low
public-houses and lodging-houses, where he is plundered with suc