The Forsaken.

"If thou fallest from thy high estate angels shall weep over thee."

I knew her in her guileless youth,

Ere sorrow touched her brow;

And from her face beamed joy and truth,-
Gaze on her features now!

She hangs her head in sullen care,

Her listless eye is sad,

The world, awhile so bright and fair,

In darkness now is clad.

And if she seek repose in sleep,

Or if in prayer would rest,

Strange visions in her dreams will creep,

And anguish rend her breast.

And morn, and noon, and closing day,
Or 'mid life's joyous stir,
She cannot in her fancy stray-
There is no change for her.

But lonely in her grief she pines,-
Or if a smile should cheer,
And, as a sunbeam, faintly shines,
It but precedes a tear.

And she will sit and weep alone;
Her bright young joys are fled,
The hopes that once in beauty shone
Are numbered with the dead.

And sad to see so young a form,
A mind once pure and fair,

A heart in blushing love so warin,
To breathe but dark despair.

And the fond hopes which youth had given

The promise of her years,

By falsehood's tongue is rudely riven,
And she remains in tears.

W. II.

Mary Hartley, or the Odd-Fellow's Wife;

A TALE OF A WORKING MAN'S FRIENDLY SOCIETY.

BY CHARLES HARDWICK.

IN FOUR CHAPTERS.-CHAPTER III.

About a week after the destruction of the cotton mill, Mr. Charles Allen was seated by the bed of Harry Hartley. For the first twenty-four hours after the accident, the kind-hearted surgeon had never left his humble friend, hourly expecting he would sink beneath his terrible sufferings.

The poor fellow was sadly mutilated. He had experienced a compound fracture of the left thigh, and his right leg was frightfully shattered. The weakness of the patient from loss of blood prevented the possibility of a successful amputation. His torture was continual and most intense; but he bore it bravely; no murmur escaped from his parched lips.

After pondering intently for some time, Mr. Allen gently relaxed his grasp from the poor man's wrist. His countenance brightened perceptibly, as he cautiously closed the chamber door, and descended to the little parlour below.

"You must avoid making the slightest noise for two hours at least," said Mr. Allen in a whisper; "I begin to hope that, with great care, your husband's temperate habits and good constitution may yet triumph over the injuries he has received. The inflammatory symptoms are considerably abated; and he appears to sleep soundly."

Mary Hartley was left alone. Tears of joy, and gratitude, and hope, coursed down her cheeks in a warm and plenteous stream; for the sorrowing woman possessed a large and loving heart. She could think of nothing now but her poor husband's kindnesses and virtues. She began to reproach herself for the distrust and suspicion which she supposed had prevented him from following the dictates of his better judgment with respect to the Friendly Society. She had never seriously thought about the matter; her fears alone had dictated her conduct, and truly, she had good reason to fear. But a week ago, she felt almost certain that her husband was an Oddfellow; and her dislike to the order strengthened the suspicion. Now, when she clearly saw how much she should stand in need of the benefits, and fervently prayed that he might have deceived her, the very intensity of her desire magnified the unwelcome doubt. Neither Harry nor the surgeon had said a word to her on the subject since the accident, and she dared not put the question to either the one or the other. The few pounds in the Savings Bank would soon be exhausted, and then she must once more wrestle with poverty and want! She feared little for herself; but the thought that her crippled husband and five young children must depend almost entirely upon her own labour for the means of existence, pressed heavily on her heart.

K

Yet there was one bright star shed a pure and holy light over this dark prospect! Her Harry was no drunkard now! Oh! how strong she felt when she thought of this! She could toil and fast, and never flag in body or spirit while Ilarry's kind word and look cheered her!

Nearly three months after the accident, Harry Hartley sat in an easy chair by the brook side, at the bottom of his little garden. It was a lovely morning, near the end of May. The faintest possible breeze gently shook the leaves and flowers, and breathed returning health upon the bloodless cheek of the invalid. How intensely happy was the expression of that pale thin countenance !

Mr. Allen had been for some time in conversation with his patient. "How fortunate it is you joined the club, Harry. There is yet hope that you may live without the necessity of accepting the cold charity of the parish. You will, however, have to depend more upon the exercise of your head than upon the labour of your hands for your future livelihood; but a steady man like yourself will not want for friends, I assure you."

"I am very grateful to all who have interested themselves in my behalf," replied the invalid; "and especially to you, doctor. I do not know what sort of employment I should have been fit for if it had not been for your kind teaching during the last two years. Alas! too many working men do not know the value of even a little education! But, doctor, I have long wished to ask you how the members attend to the lodge business since we removed from the public-house to the school-room. You know I feel greatly interested in the success of that experiment."

"I am very sorry to inform you that your high purpose and disinterested labour in that cause have not yet exhibited much fruit. I am afraid we have removed the lodge from the public-house but not the members!! They merely pay their subscriptions now, and then walk across the street to enjoy their pipes and glasses, without the wholesome restraint imposed by our laws. They neglect the important business of their society rather than forego their accustomed enjoyments! Ignorance, and error, and vice, left alone to their own influences, can but propagate their kind. Innoculation with purer matter is, I think, absolutely necessary in order to effect a healthier future development. Philanthropy in slippers, snugly reposing upon the rich velvet pile of a Turkish hearth rug, may propound unexceptionable moral maxims, and denounce, with amiable and eloquent indignation, the ignorance and vices of the untaught, ill-fed, and ill-clothed, lower orders; but where is the benefit resulting from such a course of action? Does it fill one famishing stomach; does it clothe one naked back; does it contribute a solitary ray of the required light to a single darkened intellect? No; true Philanthropy, like that of Howard, Wright, Vansittart, or Florence Nightingale, scorns not to stoop to the condition of the most depraved, illiterate, or suffering amongst mankind, in the fulfilment of their noble missions. In like manner, the true friend of the more provident working men, must condescend to accept their habits, as part and parcel of the condition in which they are at present placed by social necessity; or the seed sown, however excellent in itself, being unadapted to the soil upon which it is cast, will either perish, or produce a blighted and stunted crop, not worth, at harvest time, the necessary pains for its preservation. It is mere idleness to denounce the artisan, as less polished than his betters; and therefore to avoid contact with him, as though his humble garb, or native patois, possessed a contaminating influence. It is not enough to invite him to a rich intellectual feast, when he shall himself have become capable of appreciating and enjoying it; it is the patriot's and philanthropist's duty and honour, to teach, in the spirit of charity and brotherhood, his humbler fellowmen the value of moral habits, intellectual culture, and civilized deportment. Those true benefactors of mankind who

go forth to explore arctic seas, arid plains, tangled forests, or marshy swamps, do not spend their time and energy in uselessly denouncing the present condition of their fields of enterprise; but rather regard frozen limbs, parched throats, scratched skins, or soiled garments, as proofs of their courage and devotion to the cause they professed to serve. So must the true moral and social reformer look upon the present condition and habits of the people as established facts, and endeavour to make them subservient to his high purpose, and not fall back upon them as excuses for his own lack of zeal or industry. I am satisfied that practical philanthropists must continue for a long time to go where they can find the masses, if anything worth the name of success is to result from their benevolent exertions. When the people,' as a body, shall have remedied these great errors of habit, they will not require much assistance from others in their further moral and intellectual advancement."

Harry Hartley was grieved to hear this. He had had great faith and hope in both the wisdom and the practicability of his proposition, for it was mainly through his efforts that the experiment had been tried. He contented himself with merely observing, "Well, well, doctor, I suppose, as you sometimes say, we must work and wait."

Mary Hartley here appeared in the little garden. Her whole form and manner indicated the most profound grief.

"Oh, Harry, Harry! my heart will break!" she exclaimed wildly.

"Why, my dear Mary, what's the matter? I feel myself quite well and happy now. I have some good news to tell you, too. Whatever can distress you so?"

"Poor Grace Morley! She died this morning; and they have just taken her three poor helpless children past the lane end, in the overscer's cart, to the work house."

"Why, doctor, how's this?" exclaimed Harry; "I thought Tom Morley was a member of the lodge!"

"True," replied Mr. Allen; "he was a member, but his wife had so strong an objection to it, that he ceased to pay some time before his death!"

Mary Hartley stood a very statue! the personification of misery and despair.

Harry instantly read the whole of her thoughts. "Come here, Mary," he said, in his kindest tone; "I wish your forgiveness for one piece of deception which I have practised upon you, and then I shall be perfectly happy. I joined the Oddfellows' club about two years ago, and you would have received ten shillings per week during the time I have been sick, only I requested the doctor to take care of the money till I was well enough to tell you the truth myself. I know we had about fifteen pounds in the Savings Bank, and that you have not yet been in want of money. Let me see, doctor, I have been ill twelve weeks, so you will have six pounds to give her."

No, no, Harry, I won't touch it! I dare not take it! I feel I have no right to it!" hurriedly exclaimed the agitated woman.

"What, Mary! won't you forgive me?"

"Oh! Harry, Harry! how can you ask such a question? It is I who ought to beg your forgiveness!"

The warm tears flowed rapidly down the invalid's pale but happy cheek, as a flood of joy and hope swelled up from his secretly-rejoicing heart. "Oh, doctor, just explain to her that the money is really and truly her own," muttered Harry, almost suffocated by the active demonstration of his wife's affection.

"Mrs. Hartley," said the surgeon, you are as much entitled to this money as you were to any that you ever possessed. It is not given to you by the society as charity, but in payment of a just debt, honourably con

tracted. The widow of a peer of the realm, or of a wealthy tradesman, possesses not a better title to the amount assured on the death of her husband, than you do to the sick-pay,' promised, under specified conditions, by the Oddfellows' Lodge."

The wife, after a moment's pause, slowly extended her hand. She spoke not; but her very silence was far more eloquent than words.

Mr. Allen walked away, leaving the poor man and his wife to the uninterrupted enjoyment of their new-found happiness.

Harry Hartley's health continued to improve gradually, though slowly, during the warm months of summer and autumn. He was, however, incompetent to the performance of any severe or continued bodily labour. He consequently remained a charge upon the funds of the lodge.

On the Christmas-day following, Harry and Mary Hartley dined with Mr. Charles Allen.

"Well, Mr. Hartley, you have not yet told me what you think of doing in the way of business," said the surgeon.

"I have lately learned the value of capital, doctor," responded Hartley, with a laugh. "Heavy labour, in my crippled state, is now out of the question. Yet I am satisfied that if I could get into some little way of business, I have plenty of friends in Lingfield who would support me."

Very well," replied Mr. Allen; "I will see what can be done. How much do you think would enable you to commence in such a way as would insure the maintenance of your family?"

"Oh, twenty or thirty pounds would be quite enough!" modestly responded Harry. "But where can I hope to get such a sum? Indeed, I can't see that I ought to expect anyone to advance it; though if there was some kind wealthy man, who could have faith in me, oh! what a struggle I would make to prove he had not judged me wrongly."

"I know such a man, Harry!" smilingly replied Mr. Allen; so you may set about the affair as soon as you please. The district committee granted you, at the last meeting, a benevolent gift of £5 from the incidental fund. A friend, from what he has observed of your steady conduct and provident habits, is quite agreeable, without any security, to make the £5 into a sum sufficient to enable you to commence in some little way of business. This he will do through my hands. You will not, therefore, even know the name of the man who assists you. It is his fancy, and you must humour it."

A few weeks after the above conversation, Harry Hartley removed his family to a little shop situated near the "Bridge Foot," at the entrance to Lingfield. His stock consisted of a miscellaneous assortment of goods, suitable to the wants of a village population. Through Mr. Allen's influence, Harry was appointed agent to a large coal company. His steady and studious habits during the last two or three years, had fully qualified him for the situation; and the worthy surgeon continually visited him for the purpose of instructing him in the best method of keeping his

accounts.

By dint of the most untiring application, and an economy so severe that he denied to himself almost every personal gratification that involved expense, conjoined to an honourable determination to be self-dependent, if possible, the poor man contrived in twelve months to repay the whole of his borrowed capital. He never knew, with certainty, to whom he was indebted for the loan, though his suspicions constantly veered towards the true person, Mr. Charles Allen.