much as possible, especially not suffering it to throw any shadow over her intercourse with her husband, she entered freely into all the adventitious satisfactions of their position.

But these were indeed fortuitous, and soon yielded before the unsightly realities which forced themselves on their unwilling gaze. Not indeed that Meredith had ever been blinded to them, or had ever, from the first day, remitted his earnestly anxious quest for occupation. But hoping each day that something might arise, he had not been unwilling, at times, to close his eyes on that probable future which his inexperienced wife did not see so clearly, and on which he could not bear to enlighten her. But his little hoard was rapidly diminishing even with his utmost care, and his anxieties became daily and hourly more pressing.

He had passed through his college career honourably: he was esteemed far above mediocrity, though he had taken no

honours or obtained any prizes, which might give tangible proof of his success as a scholar; his moral character and conduct were unimpeachable. He had an honourable testimonial, too, to his character, signed by several of the superior members of the congregation, of the church where he had commenced that clerical career, so unfortunately interrupted for him, by the untimely death of the Rector. But this, though all that from the nature of things he could have, he found a very insufficient introduction for an inexperienced stranger like himself, in a field where competition is immense, and patronage all-powerful. He could but be patient and wait.

He wrote some trifling matters for newspapers, not without the idea of their being a step to more important literary occupation, but they had not that result, although, from their constant publication, he felt justified in supposing that they were favourably appreciated. Having a good deal of natural humour, and some

talent for rhyming, in a moment of happy inspiration one day, he threw off a jeu d'èsprit on government, which he sent to a leading newspaper, and early the next morning received a proof of it, with so flattering a note from the editor of the journal, that he and Emily seemed that day to tread on air, and they ate their scanty meal of cold meat and stale bread (to which their table had now, for some little time, been limited,) in high spirits and with hearty appetite.

At the earliest opportunity he called on this editor-a man well known, and of high repute in literary circles—and was most cordially welcomed by him. But whilst Mr. Meredith's productions were highly praised, his continued contributions earnestly requested, this gentleman, who knew the world well, from a kind motive, without doubt, took occasion in the course of his conversation to remark, that the journal with which he had the honour to be connected, was richly supported by

voluntary contributions, for which it never had made any remuneration. He then turned the conversation on literature generally, lamented the overplus of mediocrity in its ranks, as fatal to the success of those of a higher grade, and strongly deprecated the idea of any young man in these days adopting it as a profession. Poor Meredith!

It is useless, however, to pursue his career step by step, through this portion of his life these "untoward circumstances " were of perpetual recurrence; his disappointments never ending.

Nor was it possible, any longer, to shield Mrs. Meredith from their effects. Emily, though under the influence of strong excitement, working on an ill-regulated temper, she had married hastily, imprudently, and wrongly, was still a young woman of good sense, superior talent, generous heart, and lofty principle. She was enthusiastic in her admiration of every thing lofty and elevated, unmeasured

in her contempt for any thing paltry or mean. Her jealous affection for Mr. Meredith before their marriage, had been increased ten fold (though probably unawares to herself) by the sarcastic, unmeasured, and sooth to say most unjustifiable contempt hurled on him by her father, when their attachment was first made known to him. Independent of her feelings towards Meredith, as her accepted lover, Emily's chivalrous ideas of truth and generosity were outraged by the unmerited scorn and ridicule which were showered on him, merely, as it seemed to her, because he had presumed to fall in love with her. Mr. Dalton never knew, never guessed, how much his unjustifiable rage, unmeasured scorn, and vituperative passion, had precipitated his daughter's fate.

With an eye somewhat heavy, and a step becoming daily more languid, Emily sought her husband. He was seated in the little parlor, with his head hanging