it, sir?"

"No, John," said Mrs. Avenel, placing her husband's arm within her own.
"You must lie down a bit, while I talk to the gentleman."

"I'm a real good blue," said poor John; "but I an't quite the man I
was;" and leaning heavily on his wife, he left the room, turning round
at the threshold, and saying, with great urbanity--"Any thing to oblige,
sir?"

Mr. Dale was much touched. He had remembered John Avenel the comeliest,
the most active, and the most cheerful man in Lansmere; great at glee
club and cricket, (though then stricken in years,) greater in vestries;
reputed greatest in elections.

"Last scene of all," murmured the Parson; "and oh well, turning from the
poet, may we cry with the disbelieving philosopher, 'Poor, poor
humanity!'"[U]

In a few minutes Mrs. Avenel returned. She took a chair at some distance
from the Parson's, and, resting one hand on the elbow of the chair,
while with the other she stiffly smoothed the stiff gown, she said--

"Now, sir."

That "Now, sir," had in its sound something sinister and warlike. This
the shrewd Parson recognized with his usual tact. He edged his chair
nearer to Mrs. Avenel, and placing his hand on hers--

"Yes, now then, and as friend to friend."

FOOTNOTES:

[T] It need scarcely be observed, that Jackeymo, in his conversations
with his master or Violante, or his conferences with himself, employs
his native language, which is therefore translated without the blunders
that he is driven to commit when compelled to trust himself in the
tongue of the country in which he is a sojourner.

From Fraser's Magazine.

AN INEDITED LETTER OF EDWARD GIBBON.

The following is an inedited letter of the celebrated author of _The
Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_. It is addressed to his friend M.
D'Eyverdun (who was at that time at Leipsig), and has lately been found
among a mass of papers in the house which M. D'Eyverdun possessed at
Lausanne, and where Mr. Gibbon resided several years.

_To M. D'Eyverdun, at Leipsig._

London, May 7th, 1776.

My long silence towards you has been occasioned (if I have properly
analyzed what has lately passed in my mind) by different reasons. During
the Summer there was indolence and procrastination; since the opening of
parliament the necessity of finishing my book, and at the same time of
subduing America. I have been involved in a multitude of public,
private, and literary busines