204 
KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 
—thought it very praiseworthy that she should 
try to do something for herself, but seemed 
nervously anxious that it should be out of their 
latitude and longitude. And so, day after day, 
foot-sore and weary, Emma reached home with a 
discouraged heart, and a sad conviction of the 
selfishness and hollow-heartedness of human 
nature. 
In one of these discouraging moods she recol- 
lected her old friend, Mr. Bliss. How strange 
she should not have thought of him before! She 
had often hospitably entertained him as she pre- 
sided at her father’s table; he stood very high in 
repute as @ pious man, and very benevolently 
inclined. He surely would befriend with his 
influence the child of his old, though fallen friend. 
With renewed courage she tied on her little- 
bonnet, and set out in search of him. 
She was fortunate in finding him in; but, ah! 
where was the old frank smile and extended hand 
of friendship? Mr. Bliss might have been carved 
out of wood, for any demonstration of either that 
she could see. A very stiff bow, and a very 
nervous twitch of his waistband, was her -only 
recognition. With difficulty she choked down 
the rebellious feelings that sent the flush to her 
cheek and indignant tears to her eyes, as she 
recalled the many evenings he had received a 
warm welcome to their hospitable fire-side, and 
timidly explained the purpose of her visit. Mr. 
Bliss employed himself, during this interval, in 
the apparent arrangement of some business papers, 
with an air that said, “if you were not a woman, 
I shouldn’t hesitate to show you the door ina 
civil way; but, as it is, though I may listen, that’s 
all it will amount to.” Like many other persons 
in alike dilemma, he quietly made up his mind 
that if he could succeed in irritating her suffi- 
ciently to rouse her spirit, he would, in all pro- 
bability, be sooner rid.of her; so he remarked 
that it was “ A very bad affair, that of her father’s ; 
there could be but one opinion about its disgraceful 
and dishonorable nature ; that, of course, she wasn’t 
to blame for it, but she couldn’t expect to keep 
her old position now; and that, in short, under 
the circumstances, he didn’t feel as if it would be 
well for him to interfere in her behalf at present. 
He had no doubt that, in time, she might ‘live 
down’ her father’s disgrace;” and so he very 
comfortably seated himself in his leather-backed 
arm-chair, and took up a book. 
A deep red spot burned on Emma Grant’s cheek 
as she retraced her steps. Her lithe form was drawn 
up to its full height; there was fire in her eye, 
and firmness and rapidity in her step that be- 
tokened a new energy. She would not be crushed 
by such selfish cowardice and pusillanimity; she 
would succeed—and unaided too, save by her 
own invincible determination. It*must be that 
she should triumph yet. 
“ Will is might,” said Emma, as she bent all 
her powers to the accomplishment of her purpose. 
When was that motto ever known to fail, when 
accompanied by a spirit undiscouraged by 
obstacles ? 
Never! True, Emma rose early, and sat up 
late. She lived on a mere crust. She was a 
stranger to luxury, and many times to necessary 
comforts. Her pillow was often wet with tears 
from over-tasked spirits and failing strength. 
The malicious sneer of the ill-judging, and the 
croaking prophecy of the ill natured fell upon her 
sensitive ear. Old friends, who had eaten and 
drunk at her table, “ passed on the other side ;” 
and there were the usual number of good, cautious, 
timid souls, who stood on the fence ready to jump 
down when her position was certain, and she had 
placed herself beyond the need of their assistance ! 
Foremost in this rank was the “ correct’ and 
“proper” Mr, Bliss, who soiled no pharisaical 
garment of his, by juxtaposition with any known 
sinner or doubtful person. 
At the expiration of a year, Emma’s school 
contained pupils from the first families in the city, 
with whose whole education she was intrusted ; 
and who, making it their home with her, received, 
out of school-hours, the watchful care of a mother. 
It became increasingly popular, and Emma was 
able to command her own price for her services. 
““Why don’t you send your daughter to my 
friend Miss Grant?” said Mr. Bliss, to Senator 
Hall; “she is a little protégée of mine—nice 
young woman !—came to me at the commence- 
ment of her school for my patronage. ‘The con- 
sequence is she has gone up like a sky-rocket. 
They call it the ‘ Model School.’ ” 
Condescending Mr. Bliss! It was a pity to 
take the nonsense out of him. ‘ut you should 
have seen the crest-fallen expression of his whole 
outer man, as the elegant widower he addressed, 
turning on him alook of withering contempt, said, 
“The young woman of whom you speak, sir, well 
be my wife before the expiration of another week, 
and in her name and mine, I thank you for the 
very liberal patronage and the MANLY ENCOURAGE- 
MENT you extended to her youth and helplessness, 
in the hour of need.” 
It is needless to add how many times in the 
course of the following week the inhabitants 
of , who had found it “ convenient” entirely 
to forget the existence of Miss Emma Grant, 
were heard to interlard their conversation with 
“My rrrenp Mrs. Senator Hatu.”—Alas! 
poor human nature ! 
If we be honest—a rare qualification is 
honesty now-a-days !—let us ask ourselves 
the question whether the condescending, 
patronising Mr. Bliss, is or is not a caricature 
ofhumanity? Is there not a Mr., Mrs., 
Miss, and Master Bliss, in nearly every so- 
called genteel (heartless) family in the 
kingdom ? 
And yet England is a Protestant country ! 
THE MUSIC OF FALLING WATER. 
IT love the sound 
Of falling water. It hath something in it 
Which speaks of the long past of infancy, 
And the bright pearl-like days of childhood ; and 
J fancy that I hear it murmuring 
Stories of red ripe berries ; and with glee, 
And with an innocent cunning, telling of 
Those secret nooks where thickest hang the nuts 
From their 0’erladen branches :—Oh, it speaks 
Of those far distant times, when all things were 
Treasures and joys, not to be bought with worlds; 
When a new pleasure. was a pleasure, just 
Because that it was new! J. S. Brae. 

