u."

WAIFE.--"I have no right to complain. I have behaved very ill to myself.
When a man is his own enemy, he is very unreasonable if he expect other
men to be his benefactors."

GEORGE MORLEY (with emotion).--"Listen, I have a confession to make to
you. I fear I have done you an injury, where, officiously, I meant to
do a kindness." The scholar hurried on to narrate the particulars of his
visit to Mrs. Crane. On concluding the recital, he added, "When again
I met you here, and learned that your Sophy was with you, I felt
inexpressibly relieved. It was clear then, I thought, that your
grandchild had been left to your care unmolested, either that you had
proved not to be the person of whom the parties were in search, or
family affairs had been so explained and reconciled that my interference
had occasioned you no harm. But to-day I have a letter from my father
which disquiets me much. It seems that the persons in question did visit
Gatesboro', and have maligned you to Mr. Hartopp. Understand me, I ask
for no confidence which you may be unwilling to give; but if you will
arm me with the power to vindicate your character from aspersions which
I need not your assurance to hold unjust and false, I will not rest till
that task be triumphantly accomplished."

WAIFE (in a tone calm but dejected).--"I thank you with all my heart.
But there is nothing to be done. I am glad that the subject did not
start up between us until such little service as I could render you, Mr.
Morley, was pretty well over. It would have been a pity if you had been
compelled to drop all communication with a man of attainted character,
before you had learned how to manage the powers that will enable you
hereafter to exhort sinners worse than I have been. Hush, sir! you feel
that, at least now, I am an inoffensive old man, labouring for a humble
livelihood. You will not repeat here what you may have heard, or yet
hear, to the discredit of my former life. You will not send me and my
grandchild forth from our obscure refuge to confront a world with which
we have no strength to cope. And, believing this, it only remains for me
to say, Fare-you-well, sir."

"I should deserve to lose spe-spe-speech altogether," cried the Oxonian,
gasping and stammering fearfully as he caught Waife firmly by the arm,
"if I suffered--suff-suff-suff--"

"One, two! take time, sir!" said the Comedian, softly. And with a sweet
patience he reseated himself on the bank. The Oxonian