“As witness, Miss Emmy—­witness to all—­but God forbid,” said the steward with solemnity, “I should ever live to see the proving of them:  no, Miss Emmy, master has done for me what he intended, while I had youth to enjoy it.  I am rich, Miss Emmy—­good three hundred a year.”  Emily, who had seldom heard so long a speech as the old man’s gratitude drew from him, expressed her pleasure at hearing it, and shaking him kindly by the hand, left him for the parlor.

“Niece,” said Mr. Benfield, having scanned the party closely with his eyes, “where is Colonel Denbigh?”

“Colonel Egerton, you mean, sir,” interrupted Lady Moseley.

“No, my Lady Moseley,” replied her uncle, with great formality, “I mean Colonel Denbigh.  I take it he is a colonel by this time,” looking expressively at the baronet; “and who is fitter to be a colonel or a general, than a man who is not afraid of gunpowder?”

“Colonels must have been scarce in your youth, sir,” cried John, who had rather a mischievous propensity to start the old man on his hobby.

“No, jackanapes, gentlemen killed one another then, although they did not torment the innocent birds:  honor was as dear to a gentleman of George the Second’s court, as to those of his grandson’s, and honesty too, sirrah—­ay, honesty.  I remember when we were in, there was not a man of doubtful integrity in the ministry, or on our side even; and then again, when we went out, the opposition benches were filled with sterling characters, making a parliament that was correct throughout.  Can you show me such a thing at this day?”

Chapter XXII.

A Few days after the arrival of the Moseleys at the lodge John drove his sisters to the little village of L——­, which at that time was thronged with an unusual number of visiters.  It had, among other fashionable arrangements for the accommodation of its guests, one of those circulators of good and evil, a public library.  Books are, in a great measure, the instruments of controlling the opinions of a nation like ours.  They are an engine, alike powerful to save or to destroy.  It cannot be denied, that our libraries contain as many volumes of the latter, as the former description; for we rank amongst the latter that long catalogue of idle productions, which, if they produce no other evil, lead to the misspending of time, our own perhaps included.  But we cannot refrain expressing our regret, that such formidable weapons in the cause of morality, should be suffered to be wielded by any indifferent or mercenary dealer, who undoubtedly will consult rather the public tastes than the private good:  the evil may be remediless, yet we love to express our sentiments, though we should suggest nothing new or even profitable.  Into one of these haunts of the idle, then, John Moseley entered with a lovely sister leaning on either arm.  Books were the entertainers of Jane, and instructors