may be my nephew's faults, I will not become a spy upon him. I will go with right English openness, and confront him with these charges. You shall accompany me, as witnesses of the past, and of what may then occur. He cannot be so bad as to deny all, in the face of those who will know the falsehood of that denial." "That is the proper plan," said Doctor Montague, "Give him a fair opportunity of exculpating himself, if he can. Truth is sure to rise uppermost, however he may attempt to keep it down," "I fear," said Mr. Montague, "when he finds what is going on, he will be too clever for us all. He will affect such an air of injured innocence, that you, Sir," (addressing the Squire,) "will be melted again into misplaced confidence, and will accuse us of being his prejudiced enemies." "Do not fear me," said the Squire, with much feeling, "I am getting stronger than I was, and can now bear almost anything." There was a noisy altercation in Charles Langford's chambers. He was heard exclaiming "this is a cruel calumny, and nothing but envy on your parts, and a desire to keep from me my uncle's property has induced you to take this step." "It is not likely that I to whom you owe large sums,-I who wait for the realisation of your expectations, to be paid, should entertain such a desire," said Mr. Montague. "And what interest in opposing you could I have?" asked Alfred, "seeing that your marriage with my cousin would have enriched her, and might have benefited I find you waited upon by a liveried footman-I see cards strewed about your room; cigars and fanciful pipes arrayed upon the side-board-whips or spurs in almost every corner-and various other things, the use or ornament of which I am at a loss to understand. And, more than all, your appearance now is so much altered, that I should scarcely know you. Those things across your lips-whether real or artificial I know not, but it strikes me that they have no business there and that the Charles I now see before me is not the Charles who from time to time has visited me at Windmere, and won my heart in another character." There was a pause after this plain but sensible speech, which completely embarrassed Charles, and baffled even his hypocrisy. He would have given the world for some one to have broken the silence, and to have attacked him in terms of violent abuse, to which he could easily have replied. The pause was a painful one to all. The crimson blood appeared and disappeared in Charles' face and the moment of conviction appeared to have arrived, when a startling, irregular knock, was heard at the door. Presently a loud disputation was heard. "I tell you, you cannot see my master," exclaimed the liveried attendant. "Put I vill!" screamed: a shrill and broken voice, in a tone of unmistakeable anger.. "Not all the gods shall keep me from seeing him, de villain !" The door was suddenly thrust open by a sharp blow from a fist, and Moses the Jew, staggered into the room. "Vare is he!-vare is de rogue!- de sheat wat swindle me out of my monish! Ah! dere you are; now, swindler, pay me my monish! give me pack my notes and my cold?" The bystanders drew back while the old man thrust himself forward, and shook two pieces of paper in Charles' face, with violent gesticulations. Charles hung down his head, he saw that his hour was come. "Wat do you say? Vy do you not speak wat have you done vid my monish? Pshaw-dis is trash-it is a cheat-it is a forgery!" D "Forgery!" exclaimed all "Yes, shentleman,-a forgery!—I charge him wid forgery! He, that vile cheat came to me. I, a poor old man-a ver' poor old man he came to me and took all I had in de vorld, saying dat his uncle had given him dese drafts." "It is false!" said Charles, determined to make a last effort to escape. "I deny that I ever saw this old wretch. He is a madman, to whom I have often given relief and this is but an expression of his insanity." "No, no, shentlemen! Cot knows dat I am not mad-I might have peen mad when I gave him all my monish for dis trash-dis rag-ah you vile swindler, give me pack my cold!" The poor old miser trembled with rage, a profuse perspiration stood upon his brow, and his white hair and beard were tossed in wild confusion as he shook his head frantically while appealing for justice. He turned round, and putting the papers into the Squire's hand, said: "He says I am mad-look at dese vill dey not show dat dere is his uncle's name, signed by anoder man's hand; and are not dese cheques from de pank upon vich dat coot old shentleman draws?" The Squire started back with horror. "It is too true," exclaimed he; "my boy-the child of my adoption is lost-my hopes in him are blighted for ever!" "Put you vill pay me my monish, vil you not?" exclaimed the miser. "I shall have it all again?" The Squire replied not, but buried his face in his hands, and wept. "O Cot, my monish! O Cot, my monish!" exclaimed the Jew; and suddenly overcome with a violent tremour, he sank upon the floor. He was immediately raised up and placed upon a chair, when Alfred performed the requisite medical attentions. "I fear he is dying," said Alfred. "He must be taken at once to the Hospital." Mr. Montague, Alfred, and the valet, assisted to carry the old man downstairs, and place him in a cab. As he was borne away, he muttered, with a feeble voice, "My Cot, my monish! my monish!" Mr. Lyndhurst and the Squire were left alone with Charles, and several moments elapsed before the silence which succeeded to this dreadful scene of excitement was broken. At length the Squire looked up, and said, "Charles, Charles, this is dreadful! What is to be done?" "Why, Sir," said Charles, with an air of great bitterness, as I am accused of such vile acts- and you all conspire against me-I withdraw from your presence, and will trouble you no more." So saying he hastily put on his hat, and left the house. "Take comfort," said Mr. Lyndhurst; an innocent creature has been saved from wrong-let us hope that the guilty one will be brought back to repentance.!" (Concluded at page 361.) A CAUTION TO BOYS. Boys, use no profane language, utter no word that will cause the most virtuous to blush. Profanity is a mark of low breeding; and the tendency of using indecent and profane language is degrading to your minds. Its injurious effects may not be felt at the moment, but they will continue to manifest themselves to you through life. They may never be obliterated; and when you grow up, you will find at your tongue's end some expression which you would not use for any money. And this expression was learned when you were a boy. By being careful on this point you may save yourself much mortification and sorrow.. "Good men have been taken sick and become delirious. In these moments they have used the most vile and indecent language. When informed of it, after a restoration to health, they had no idea of the pain they had given to their friends, and stated that they had learned and repeated the expressions in childhood, and though years had passed since they had spoken a bad word, the early impressions had been indelibly stamped upon the mind." Think of this, ye who are tempted to use improper language, and never let a vile word disgrace you. An oath never falls from the tongue of the man who commands respect. Honesty, frankness, generosity, and virtue are noble traits. Let these be yours, and we shall not fear. You will then claim the esteem and love of all. EVENINGS AT HOME; FIFTH EVENING (continued from p. 281). "HALLO! Hallo!" again cried the pilot, repeating his hunter's cry, and thereupon rolled a stone in among them. This roused them, they became furious and first attacked the stone, rolled growling on the sand, and put themselves in motion. The pilot approached some steps nearer, and Ivan and Gregory with him. Now they were only a few feet distant from each other, when the strongest of the bears raised himself up to a fearful height, and growling all the while, came on his hind paws toward the pilot. When only two paces off he reached forth his right forepaw to smite him down at a single blow. But the pilot, who had already placed his gun, seemed only to have waited for this moment; for he now advanced a quick long step forward, and ran his bayonet into the foe, even up to the mouth of the gun, between the forepaws. At the same time he fired off the gun. The sound frightened the other bear, and caused him to stand still; but hardly had he seen that his companion had fallen down with a dreadful roaring, and his white skin was stained with blood, than he came up closer, more furiously to revenge the bloody death of his mate. Now Ivan sprang forward; the bear, though somewhat smaller, yet was more raging and did exactly as the one before him. But Ivan had not observed the pilot's manœuvre in vain; for scarcely had the bear held out his paws, than he too felt the deadly steel in his breast. The contest, however, was not very easy. The bear, which Ivan had not probably struck as well as the pilot did his opponent, became continually furious, and pressed on Ivan, and hardly could he withstand the force of the beast. more Then Gregory sprang forward, and availing himself skilfully of an exposed place of the foe, drove his bayonet with tremendous force between the ribs. The bear turned round fearfully, reeled, tumbled down, and rolled about exactly as did the first bear, which lay, to all appearance, in the last struggles of death. Then he strengthened himself anew, and both beasts fell on each other with a dreadful and indescribable fury. Covered with blood, and growling, they thrashed around on the bloody earth, and tore themselves with their teeth, and so exhausted their strength, that the three friends had nothing more of fight to engage in. They left the beasts to kill themselves entirely, and removed themselves from the place of fight, but they were so exhausted and fatigued, that they hardly were able to get to the cavern, in order to obtain the bear's hide which they had left there the day before. After some hours they found the bears dead; and now they began, notwithstanding the cold, at once to skin the animals, and to cut up the flesh, a work which lasted several hours, but likewise was a good diversion to their minds. Loaded with the skins and the best pieces of the meat, they went to their hut. More than once they were obliged to go over the ground, which was not very distant, for the things to be carried were many, and yet they went out several times in order to carry a considerable quantity of wood from the bay to the hut. Now they justly believed their day's work was evidently done; they therefore seated themselves in the hut, around a good warm fire, and ate their supper, talking over their adventure with the two bears. "Now we will go about a very necessary business," said the pilot, "now we are best fitted for it, for we have toiled bravely." To Ivan's and Gregory's question, as to what he meant, he added: "We must acquaint ourselves more thoroughly with our household affairs, and for this purpose I will first of all prepare a light." JULIA. But where could the pilot get this? FATHER. You have forgot that on the table, before the dead man, stood a lamp. This the pilot caught up; a strip of cotton cloth, which he tore from his pockethandkerchief, was twisted up for a wick, with the fat of the bear in place of oil. and thus the lamp soon burned clear and bright. They could now look over the From the German of C. Hildebrandt, by whole space of the cavern, which reached E. G. Smith. far into the rock. MARIA. Then I would have searched everything carefully through. FATHER. Certainly our friends would not have left this behind, yet they had something to do more necessary. And what was this, Max? MAX. The examination of that paper. They might expect to find in it some important and pleasant news. FATHER. They truly found important information, but whether agreeable this may be learned from the account itself. With the greatest are Ivan unfolded the paper, which was written in the Dutch Janguage. The letters were beautiful, clear, and legible, and fortunately Ivan and Gregory well understood this language. MOTHER. A proof again, that men cannot learn too much. FATHER. The proof of this is yet further to be found in this history! Ivan read over the paper, and translated it to the pilot, who slightly, or scarcely at all, understood that language. It contained the sorrowful account of the unfortunate man whom our three friends had buried, as well as the fates of his ten companions in misfortune. MARIA. Companions in misfortune! But they found only a single corpse. FATHER. You will understand this when I have communicated to you the substance of the contents of that paper. It was to this effect: Twenty-five years before, a Dutch ship, named the "Good Hope," sailed with a number of others on a whale-fishing, and with its company reached the sixtieth degree of north latitude. The captain was of opinion that the fishery here would not prove so successful, and therefore concluded, against the advice of the pilot and the experienced sailors, to proceed on his way as far as possible northward, in the firm conviction that it would there be more favourable to success. In vain were all their warnings; the captain decided upon it, and ventured himself into the greatest dangers. Gus. Is it then so dangerous? FATHER. Not always. The Northern Ocean is sometimes more, and sometimes less covered with fields of ice. In the first case it is to be feared that great cakes would break off from the masses of ice, and woe then to the poor ship which is caught between them! It will be crushed together like a nutshell, and in the true sense of the word shattered to pieces. There is then no hope for the rescue of the unfortunate crew. To all these representations the captain paid no attention. He secretly left the squadron in the night, I mean the other ships in the company of which he had hitherto been, and sailed farther towards the north. But what those who understood the matter had foretold to him actually came to pass. For two days he had advanced with a favourable wind between the firm fields of ice, when the weather changed, the wind veered round, many cakes of ice were broken off from the monstrous mass, and before they had perceived it, shut up the return for the ship. JULIA. And so the heaps of ice dashed the ship in pieces? FATHER. NO! this was not the case. It was a special favour of Divine Providence that these masses of ice did not press close together, but rather kept an open space between them, and so formed, as it were, a little sea in which the ship sailed about as in an enclosed basin. Thus the poor men were now shut up as in a prison. For miles the enclosing dam extended itself; the ice continued to increase, the inner space was ever growing smaller, and a return was not to be thought of. To add to their desperation a thick fog extended itself over the whole region, in which they could hardly see the length of the ship. Now the captain repented of his folly. Now, first, he felt how unjustly he had treated himself and those under him, but it was now too late. After many days the fog dispersed, the air was clear, the sky was serene, and they observed that the space in which the ship moved had again considerably decreased. Then the ship's company concluded to send some to explore whether they could not discover some land near, or find even a place in which they could reach the open sea over the ice, and at least be able to convey a boat thither. Two men armed and furnished with food, left the ship. Fortunately they chanced to take the course in which, after the march of some miles, they actually reached land, and found in out a hollow a hut fallen away. Joyfully they hastened back to the ship, and brought to the crew the glad news, that they were distant only a few miles either from the northern coast of Norway, or from Nova Zembla. If this was really the case they could easily reach land in well-known regions, and from hence without great trouble get back to their native country. The ship was now fastened in the still basin, and, provided with many necessaries, the crew betook themselves for the land near by. The first thing which the captain did was to take the height and breadth of the land, and then he found to his great horror, that here was no Norway, or Nova Zembla; but that they were on the wild and inhospitable island of Spitzbergen. This discovery threw the whole ship's company into the deepest consternation; they felt that the cause of their misfortune was owing solely and alone to the captain's proud self-will, and, therefore, they loaded him with the bitterest reproaches. MARIA. But what good could that do? FATHER. So they soon thought, especially when they saw how much the captain suffered. They felt that it would be far better to aid each other in their hard fate. MAX. But were they then really so unhappy? For did not sometimes a ship come into that region? FATHER. It now frequently happens, but at that time scarcely ever, and those northern regions were more unknown than the interior of Africa. But to proceed : They willingly pardoned the captain, promised him a new obedience, and concluded to remain here and to make the best arrangements they could. They therefore began to unload the whale-ship; even the hull itself, the stern, the quarterdeck, mast and sail, were taken off and brought on a sled over the smooth ice to the land. The before-discovered hut was put into a better state, and this, together with the cavern close by it, was enlarged into a cellar, and thus now the poor men were obliged to spend their days in this zone so near the North Pole. JULIA. And they were not rescued not taken off? FATHER. No! The unfortunates here ended their lives, and none of them knew in what place or corner of the earth their ashes rested.. There were elevén men, who died one after another, without again seeing their friends. The last of them, even he whom our three friends had buried, was the captain himself, who had the sad but certainly not undeserved fate, to be obliged to survive all his crew, who had been rendered so unfortunate through his folly, and to bury them. 1. MARIA. How could he have managed with regard to the last corpse? MOTHER. Who can decide? FATHER. These unfortunate men spent five years here: the journal concluded with the account of the captain's own sickness. Probably he soon fell into a dangerous illness, and doubtless hunger, thirst, or want of care, hastened the death of the unhappy man. Besides, the deceased, with the exception of his self-will, must have been a good, brave, and especially a pious man. Many expressions in his paper prove this, as well as that all had spent their days in great good feeling, and particularly in the greatest industry. Gus. That is well. I would do so in such a situation! MOTHER. You are not under the .necessity of waiting for such a fate, as you find opportunity everywhere to subdue your selfishness and be complacent and affable. MAX. I wish I had the papers. They contain certainly the best information respecting the state of the country. FATHER. Yes, indeed. The captain himself was a very well-educated and informed man, who observed everything accurately, and had pointed out every peculiarity of the country in which he was compelled to live, for his own and for the instruction of others, by which means he became extremely useful to our three friends, Ivan, Gregory, and the pilot. Nothing there was wanting with respect to the situation and condition of the country; not only the small plants growing there were carefully described, but also he accurately distinguished the place where they were to be found, and the time in which they were to be sought. They found, too, accounts of the beasts, and the best instructions how to master them. Every cave and every fountain was marked out, and even a map of the district beauti |