These men have you at a disadvantage, and more will be lost than gained in further contention with them."

"If I can't work the mill nobody else can,' said Ellis. "The property, as things now stand, has no actual value."

"I think you exaggerate the disadvantage," returned the lawyer. "During at least nine months of the year, you will have a full head of water. It is only during the dry summer season that a deficiency can occur. Don't look past this fact."

"I do look pastit," said Ellis. "What security have I against such scoundrels? They'll find some means to draw off the head, winter and summer. Honest men have no security. Law is on the side of rogues!"

The lawyer did not answer. Ellis went on: "I know that I have the right; and yet, in appealing to the law for protection, I am repulsed and punished. It is not enough that I suffer wrong: in seeking legal redress for that wrong I am spurned as the wrong-doer, and penalties laid on my shoulders. In the very effort to disentangle myself from the thraldom of an unjust aggression upon my rights, the law steps in, and, binding me hand and foot, throws me helpless at the mercy of my assailants; and then I am coolly advised to accept the humiliating alternative, of an abandonment of all to the wicked men who are seeking my destruction! But I tell you, sir, that while I have power to lift a hand I will not yield! If you were to offer me this day the full cost of my mill property I would not accept the tender. I shall hold it against them. This strife of interest is not of my seeking. I meant all fair and just; but, if fight is the word-if peace cannot be maintained except by giving up all, then I gird my loins for battle, then I draw the sword and fling away the scabbard."

"Take a word of advice," said the lawyer.
"Say on."

"Beware how you fight!"

"How I fight?"

"Yes."

resting on this, Ellis tried to push from his thoughts as much as possible everything connected with the wrongs he had suffered at the hands of his neighbours. But this was no easy work, for, in direct aspect, right over the creek, stood Wheeler's mill, and he could never lift his eyes without seeing the great waterwheel, which always seemed to glance at him with a spiteful and defiant air. Thus, bad blood was forever being stirred in his heart.

In the meantime work on the new road and bridge was in rapid progress, and it was a thing of almost daily occurrence for the farmers who came with their grists to refer to the period of its completion.

"You'll not have it all your own way long, friend Ellis," one would say, as he tried to beat down the miller's price for grinding. "The new bridge will be ready at Christmas." "Your neighbour opposite intends to run you off the track," another would remark; while from a third would come the annoying asseveration, that in a week after the new road and bridge were completed, he wouldn't have a grist in his mill.

These things were deeply galling. Ellis pondercd them night and day, a spirit of angry desperation gaining a stronger and stronger ascendancy over him. Those who had known him intimately for years were surprised to mark the change that had come over him. He was harder, and more irritable. All his cheerfulness of temper was gone. It had given place to a stern reserve that repelled almost every one. Half of his time he seemed lost amid gloomy thoughts.

At last the bridge was completed, and, according to prediction, the farmers' waggons, instead of stopping at Ellis's mill, commenced crossing by the new road. To check this, the price of grinding was reduced to Wheeler's schedule, which operated as a temporary diversion of trade back to the old channel. Wheeler was not the man to yield in this contest, which he had resolved not to abandon until Ellis was wholly ruined. So he dropped

But

"Thank you," he said, "I will take heed." It was now as late in the season as October; the summer and fall had been unusually dry, and, in consequence, Mr. Ellis had lost seriously through lack of water to grind, while his neighbour's mill rumbled away under a fair head all the time. But, rains having set in, a fair supply for both mills was beginning to come down, and as the water line commenced rising in Ellis's flume, and his great wheels to take a steadier and faster motion, a calmer and more hopeful state of mind began to exist. There was promise of a good winter's grinding, and,

their way across the new bridge. A few days afterwards a handbill was circulated extensively, on both sides of the creek, in which Ellis used some pretty strong language against both Wing and Wheeler, and closed by declaring that he would grind for any prices the farmers might choose to pay. Two things followed by way of retaliation: a libel suit, and an offer to grind without any charge whatever. So the wall of fate seemed to rise higher and close in nearer and nearer upon Ellis every day. Every arrow directed against his neighbours across the creek hurt himself; every blow aimed at them stunned him in its recoil. He grew blinder and more desperate.

The Coming Year.

Time hath sped on-another year Eventful closeth its career. Many a pang hath sear'd the heart, Many a sorrow play'd its part; Many a cherish'd wish prov'd vain (Yet cheerily we'll wish again); Grateful for much, to much resign'd, May Mem'ry spare the troubl'd mind, Recal the pleasures which have flown And make past joys once more our own. We'll stay the sigh-suppress the tear, And greet with smiles the Coming Year. The staff of Wisdom let us grasp, As Christians all, our Bible clasp ; There read the page wherein of yore Those pilgrims read-" who've gone before," God grant us aid! God give us strength Whate'er our earthly journey's length, And Faith shall guide, and Hope shall cheer The steps we tread-the Coming Year! New Year's Eve.

Athelwode.

FIRST AND SECOND CHILDHOOD.

BY MRS. ABDY.

They cannot know the excellence of human faith and love;

They cannot bless the mercy of the God who reigns above;

This beauteous world to them appears a drear, unvaried wild

I know not which I pity most, the grandsire or the child!

Yet, hold! perchance before that child a brilliant future lies;

His lot may happily be cast among the good and wise;

Soon may his dormant faculties awaken and expand

To greet the mighty march of Mind extending through the land:

And he may smile hereafter o'er the annals of the past,

Knowing how each successive age improves upon

the last.

Secrets of art and science that to us look faint and dim

May, in the course of future years, unfold their depths to him.

And he―that old, enfeebled man-they tell me that in youth

He walked devoutly in the ways of holiness and truth;

Alas! he is unable now to dwell on themes sub. lime,

But the cloud that wraps his spirit only wraps it for a time;

than ours;

to him.

Ye feeble pair, though frail your steps-though slow your lingering speech,

How fair appears the destiny apportioned to you each!

How closely Second Childhood seemed connected with the First!

One fine afternoon, about the middle of July, a gentleman of middle height, and rather thin, might be seen climbing up the cliffs at a small sea-side place named Worselby. He had on a straw hat, which had evidently just come out of the water; for, besides being covered with bits of sea-weed, it was still quite wet. In one hand he carried a walking-stick, in the other a large bundle of sea-weeds.

This was Mr. William Thorn. He had been very ill, and had come to Worselby for change of air. He was lodging at a little white house, about two hundred yards from the cliff.

Mrs. Lester, his landlady, was standing at the door, watching him.

"Well, Mr. Thorn," said she, "how do you like Worselby?"

"I don't know: I've not had time to judge yet; remember, I only came yesterday," replied he.

"Mr. Merton called while you were out, and left his card, which you will find on the table in your room."

"Who is Mr. Merton?"

"A gentleman in the neighbourhood. He has two children, who are called Magenta and Solferino."

Why?" asked Mr. Thorn.

"Well," said Mrs. Lester, "you see Mrs. Merton doesn't like vulgar names, she says, and as those colours were all the fashion when they were christened, she called them Magenta and Solferino."

"Has anybody else been? I expected a letter."

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Only an old beggar, asking for a copper; but I told him he'd brass enough without, and I gave him a piece of bread instead. What time will you have tea, sir ?"

"As soon as possible; and can you boil me a crab?"

"No, sir; I'm afraid I can't: our fire is only large enough to hold one thing at once. Too many pans spoil the fire' is a good old adage, sir."

Mrs. Lester was very fond of good old adages, as she called them; but she generally either mixed up two together, or else unconsciously made a new one.

Mr. Thorn's room was small, but very comfortable and pleasant. There was a splendid sea-view from the window. "Uncle Tom's Cabin," and the "Pilgrim's Progress" were on the table, and a large easy chair in a corner.

Mr. Thorn had scarcely been in his room five minutes, when a message came from Mr. Merton, to ask him to go and spend the evening with them. "Merton! I know the name very well,"

thought Mr. Thorn; "but I don't remember where I've heard it."

The Mertons lived very near to the railwaystation, in a large, but by no means pretty house: the drawing-room window looked into the street; so there was not a very extensive view. On one side of the house there was a good-sized garden, in which Magenta and Solferino were gathering gooseberries, as Mr. Thorn opened the gate leading to the house. "That's a nasty Thorn,' said Magenta, pricking her finger against a gooseberry-bush. "Hush!" said Sulfa, "it's a gentleman." "Will you show me the way to the door?" said Mr. Thorn, who saw no way of getting out of the garden.

"This way," said Solferino, walking over an onion bed, and striding over a short hedge at the bottom of the garden. "You shouldn't have come through that gate, the front-door is at the other side."

"Thank you. Is Mr. Merton in ?"

"I don't know," said Solferino, who was not the pink of politeness.

Just then the door was opened, and Mr. Merton came out.

"How d' you do, Thorn!" said he; "have you forgotten me? We were at school together."

"Oh, to be sure," said Thorn, "I remember; I thought I knew the name."

"Well, come in; my wife and Hector have gone away for a day, and Treacle and Brimstone have run wild."

“Treacle and Brimstone!" said Thorn."

"Yes; didn't you see them in the garden? We used to call Solferino Sulfa, for short; so Hector turned them into Treacle and Brimstone. But why have you changed your name?"

"Because the other was such an ugly one, it always reminded me of cold beef; and though it did very well for school days, I didn't admire it when I went to college. But how did you know I was here?"

"I saw you this morning, trying to catch a crab, and I knew you directly; but I couldn't stay then, so I called in the afternoon."

"There is a carriage at the door," said Mr. Thorn, looking out of the window.

"It is my wife and Hector," said Mr. Merton.

"Where are the children ?" said Mrs. Merton, as soon as she got into the house.

Magenta and Solferino immediately made. their appearance, their faces and hands covered with gooseberry juice.

"What have you been doing?" said Mrs Merton.

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Helping the cook to gather gooseberries," | said Solferino.

"What has become of the China doll I gave you this morning, Magenta ?"

Magenta pulled it out of her pocket, in a most dilapidated state.

"It looks as if it had gone to pot," said Hector.

Hector was Mr. Merton's brother; he was a tall, good-looking fellow, and a lieutenant in the Worselby rifle corps.

"Well, how went the cricket-match, Hector?" said Mr. Merton.

Oh, we won it," said Hector. "The Merrydale men never played so badly before."

"It was very hot," said Mrs. Merton. "We met a Mr. Pickles, and a very agreeable man he is."

"Is he any relation of yours, Thorn?" said Mr. Merton.

"I believe he is a half-cousin," said Mr. Thorn.

Please 'm, Miss French Merino has broken a wine-glass, with trying to balance it on the end of her finger," said the nurse, opening the door. "I never saw anything like those children," said Mrs. Merton, rushing out of the room, with a big music-book in her hand, intending to give Magenta a rap with it. She came back in a little time, saying Magenta was lost, and they'd looked all over the house, and couldn't find her.

"She surely can't have gone to the cliffs, and fallen over!" said Mr. Merton, jumping up and putting his hat on.

Mr. Thorn and Hector set off in different directions to look for her, stopping every one they met, to ask if they had seen a little girl without bonnet, with a torn pink frock. They had looked for her for inore than half-an-hour, when Hector suddenly remembered that she had once before been found at the railway station.

66 Have you seen anything of a little girl in a pink frock, without bonnet?" said Hector, to the first porter he met.

“Yes, I did, sir, just before the Merrydale train left," said the porter: "she has perhaps got into it."

"You're sure she's not in the station?"

"What did you come here for, Treacle?' said he.

"Don't Treacle me, if you please," said Magenta; "I came here to please myself.”

"You're not going to have any more gooseberries for a week to come," said Hector, who rather liked teazing her.

"I don't want any; I'm quite sick of them, I'm sure."

"I don't wonder," said Hector.

They had got nearly to the house, when the nurse met them; for Mrs. Merton had seen them from the drawing-room window.

"You are going to have a good flogging, Miss Magnesia," said she, as she carried her into the house.

"I don't care."

Mr. Thorn was very fond of geology, and the Worselby rocks wer every full of fossils. He had found two or three on the sands, which had fallen from the cliffs; but, as they were broken, Mr. Thorn thought he would take his hammer, and climb one of the rocks, in the hope of getting some perfect fossils.

"I shan't be home to dinner to-day, Mrs. Lester," said he, one morning, as she was clearing away the breakfast things. "I'm going to a large rock, half-way between here and Cockleby."

“Indeed!” said Mrs. Lester: "then you'll probably see Deborah Broom."

Deborah Broom was a fisherman's daughter, and she had lived for fifty years in a little thatched cottage, just above the rock to which Mr. Thorn was going; she was very eccentric, and sometimes walked to Worselby (which was quite three miles from her cottage) in the middle of the night, with bare feet and without a bonnet she supported herself by selling fish.

66

Can you lend me a bag, do you think?asked Mr. Thorn.

"What for?" said Mrs. Lester.

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To put fossils into."

"Are they some kind of fish?"

and Mrs. Lester provided him with a goodMr. Thorn explained to her what fossils were; her work-bag. sized coffee-bag; the only bag she had, except

"I'll

go and look," said Hector; and in the first coal-truck he found Magenta, coolly sitting on the top of a large coal, eating some squashed gooseberries, which she had found in her pocket. As soon as she saw Hector she screamed.

"How in the world did you get into that hole, Treacle?" said Hector, hardly able to keep from laughing.

I gave a boy a few gooseberries to lift me in," said she, with great dignity.

"Were they squashed ones, out of your pocket?

"Of course not." Hector lifted her out.

stuffed two great sandwiches into his pocket. coffee-bag before?" said Mr. Thorn. "I wonder if any one ever carried fossils in a

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know, as the good old adage says,” replied Mrs. Necessity is the mother of wiseheads, you

Lester.