pplied the gains to clothe the orphan child of a deceased friend. She
was also to accompany her lover to the altar on Sunday, but had made it
a condition of her marrying him, that she should be allowed to continue
her supernumerary hours' work, for the benefit of the poor orphan. All
three had been exemplary in their attendance at church, as well as in
their general conduct. The fair patronesses presented each with a
handsome Bible, and with a complete, plain, but very neat suit of
apparel.

While these gifts were distributing, I whispered Sir John that one such
ticket as we were each desired to take for Squallini's benefit, would
furnish the cottages of these poor girls. "And it _shall_," replied he,
with emphasis. "How little a way will that sum go in superfluities,
which will make two honest couple happy! How costly is vanity! how cheap
is charity!"

"Can these happy, useful young creatures be my little inactive, insipid
Astons, Charles?" whispered Mr. Stanley, as we walked away to leave the
girls to sit down to their plentiful supper, which was spread on a long
table under the oak, without the green booth. This group of figures made
an interesting addition to the scenery, when we got back to the temple,
and often attracted our attention while we were engaged in conversation.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

The company were not soon weary of admiring the rustic building, which
seemed raised as if by the stroke of a magician's wand, so rapidly had
it sprung up. They were delighted to find that their pleasure was to be
prolonged by drinking tea in the temple.

While we were at tea Mr. Stanley, addressing himself to me, said, "I
have always forgotten to ask you, Charles, if your high expectations of
pleasure from the society in London had quite answered?"

"I was entertained, and I was disappointed," replied I. "I always found
the pleasure of the moment not heightened, but effaced by the succeeding
moment. The ever restless, rolling tide of new intelligence at once
gratified and excited the passion for novelty, which I found to be _le
grand poisson qui mange les petits_. This successive abundance of fresh
supply gives an ephemeral importance to every thing, and a lasting
importance to nothing. We skimmed every topic, but dived into none. Much
desultory talk, but little discussion. The combatants skirmished like
men whose arms are kept bright by constant use; who were accustomed to a
flying fight, but who avoided the fati