126 



KIDD'S LONDON JOURNAL. 



After this, " Aunt Sarah " tackles the old 

 1 governor,' rates him most soundly, and 

 finally, but not unwillingly, gets her niece 

 and herself turned out of the house. The 

 result may be guessed. The young folks 

 very wisely get married as soon as possible, 

 and settle down. 



* * * * About a week afterwards, 

 the obdurate father received Mr. and Mrs, 

 Ainslie's wedding cards. Many things had 

 happened to the old gentleman during this 

 week. Soon after the departure of Emily 

 and her aunt, two of his sons had returned 

 from the bachelor's party, very much intox- 

 icated, leaving their brother and Mr. Benfield 

 in the hands of the law, for ringing bells, 

 wrenching off knockers, assaulting the police, 

 and other gentlemanly amusements. The 

 two who came home were exceedingly violent 

 and abusive to their father, when they found 

 that Emily was gone ; and in addition to 

 their disrespectful conduct and the trouble 

 he had about the other (who was summarily 

 sent to hard labor for two months), the old 

 man missed the gentle ministerings of his 

 daughter. While she was with him, he 

 would not have acknowledged that he owed 

 a single comfort to her presence, but now 

 that she was gone he felt the want of her 

 during every hour of his home life. 



His sister had thoughtfully put the address 

 on one of the cards, and the moment he read 

 it, the now repentant father ran as fast as 

 his portly figure would allow, to an omnibus 

 that was just starting, and which deposited 

 him shortly at the very door. Emily was 

 out for a walk with her husband, and when 

 she returned, Aunt Sarah met her at the top 

 of the stairs. 



" Shut your eyes and open your mouth, 

 and see what luck will send you," she said, 

 and making a sign to Mr. Ainslie to keep 

 silent, she led her niece into the drawing- 

 room, and placed her in her father's arms. 



" Papa ! dear, dear papa ! " the delighted 

 girl exclaimed, as she felt the well-known kiss. 



" Forgive me, my child," said the old man, 

 while the- tears trickled clown his cheeks ; 

 " I've been very unhappy since you left me, 

 and I've found out that you are worth the 

 whole lot of your rascally brothers, and they 

 shan't stand between you and me any longer, 

 my little Emily. I'm a hot-headed old fel- 

 low, I know, but 1 haven't a bad heart. Give 

 me your hand, William Ainslie ; I beg your 

 pardon for the wrong I have been led to do 

 you, but all shall be mended, all shall be 

 mended." 



" When you alter your will, brother ? " 

 asked Aunt Sarah, slily. " I'm afraid you 

 had not time to do it before you came away 

 this morning. Or perhaps you are now on 

 your way to the lawyer's to cut Emily off 

 with a shilling, as you said you would ? " 



" Sister," he said gravely, " when a man 

 talks in a passion, he generally talks nonsense. 

 So now, don't you throw those words in my 

 face again. I shall alter my will, and you 

 shall see it, and if it don't please you, the 

 deuce is in it, that's all. And then I hope 

 you'll come and keep house for me again. I 

 shall send all those boys out into the world 

 to work for themselves. They're not Jit to 

 stay at home." * * * * 



Who, after this, will ever run down maiden 

 aunts ? Who, so well as they, can serve us 

 "at a pinch?" "Long life to the whole 

 race ! " say we. 



SEASONABLE COMFOKTS. 



A Good Fire. 



What a blessing is a good fire, when it- 

 awaits us on our coming down stairs to 

 breakfast ! Let us state a case. 



It is a clear morning, or, as the reader 

 pleases, there is a little hoar frost upon 

 the windows, a bird or two coming after 

 the crumbs, and the light smoke from the 

 neighboring chimneys brightening up into 

 the early sunshine. We rise with an elastic 

 anticipation; enjoy the freshening cold water 

 which endears what is to come ; and even 

 go placidly through the villanous scraping 

 process which we soften down into the level 

 and lawny appellation of shaving. We then 

 hurry down stairs, rubbing our hands, and 

 sawing the sharp air through our teeth ; 

 and as we enter the breakfast-room, see 

 our old companion, the fire, glowing through 

 the bars, the life of the apartment ; and want- 

 ing only our friendly hand to be lightened 

 a little, and enabled to shoot up into 

 dancing brilliancy. 



The poker is applied, and would be so, 

 whether required or not; for it is impossible 

 to resist the sudden ardor inspired by that 

 sight; the use of the poker, on first see- 

 ing one's fire, is as natural as shaking 

 hands with a friend. At that movement a 

 hundred little sparkles fly up from the coal- 

 dust that falls within, while from the masses 

 themselves a roaring flame mounts aloft 

 with a deep and fitful sound as of a shaken 

 carpet. 



The utility as well as beauty, of the fire 

 during breakfast, need not be pointed out to 

 the most unphlogistic observer. A person 

 would rather be shivering at any time of the 

 day than at that of his first rising — the 

 transition would be too unnatural — he is not 

 prepared for it, as Barnardine says, when he 

 objects to being hanged. If you eat plain 

 bread and butter with your tea, it is fit that 

 your moderation should be rewarded with a 

 good blaze ; and if you indulge in hot rolls 

 or toast, you will hardly keep them to their 



