i believe that most of the readers of "the channings" will not like this story less because its scene is laid in the same place, helstonleigh.

i narrate to you, as you may have already discovered, a great deal of truth: of events that have actually happened, combined with fiction. i can only do this from my own personal experience, by taking you to the scenes and places where i have lived. of this same town, helstonleigh, i could relate to you volumes. no place in the world holds so green a spot in my memory. do you remember longfellow's poem—"my lost youth"?

"often i think of the beautiful town,

that is seated by the sea;

often in thought go up and down

the pleasant streets of that dear old town,

and my youth comes back to me.

and a verse of a lapland song

is haunting my memory still:

'a boy's will is the wind's will,

and the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'

"i remember the gleams and glooms that dart

across the schoolboy's brain;

the song and the silence in the heart,

that in part are prophecies, and in part

are longings wild and vain.

and the voice of that fitful song

sings on, and is never still:

'a boy's will is the wind's will,

and the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'

"there are things of which i may not speak;

there are dreams that cannot die;

there are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,

and bring a pallor into the cheek,

and a mist before the eye.

and the words of that fatal song

come over me like a chill:

'a boy's will is the wind's will,

and the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'

"strange to me now are the forms i meet

when i visit the dear old town;

but the native air is pure and sweet,

and the trees that o'ershadow each well-known street,

as they balance up and down,

are singing the beautiful song,

are sighing and whispering still:

'a boy's will is the wind's will,

and the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'

"and deering's woods are fresh and fair,

and with joy that is almost pain

my heart goes back to wander there,

and among the dreams of the days that were

i find my lost youth again.

and the music of that old song

throbs in my memory still:

'a boy's will is the wind's will,

and the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'"

those are some of its verses, and what "deering" is to longfellow, "helstonleigh" is to me.

the birmingham stage-coach came into helstonleigh one summer's night, and stopped at its destination, the star-and-garter hotel, bringing with it some london passengers. the direct line of rail to helstonleigh from london was not then opened; and this may serve to tell you how long it is ago. a lady and a little girl stepped from the inside of the coach, and a gentleman and three boys got down from the outside. the latter were soaking. almost immediately after leaving birmingham, to which place the rail had conveyed them, the rain had commenced to pour in torrents, and those outside received its full benefit. the coach was crammed, inside and out, but with the other passengers we have nothing to do. we have with these; they were the halliburtons.

for the town which mr. halliburton had been desirous to remove to, the one in which his cousin, mrs. dare, resided, was no other than helstonleigh.

mrs. halliburton drew a long face when she set eyes on her husband's condition. "edgar! you must be wet through and through!"

"yes, i am. there was no help for it."

"you should have come inside when i wanted you to do so," she cried, in a voice of distress. "you should indeed."

"and have suffered you to take my place outside? nonsense, jane!"

jane looked at the hotel. "we had better remain here for the night. what do you think?"

"yes, i think so," he replied. "it is too wet to go about looking after anything that might be less expensive. inquire if we can have rooms, jane, whilst i see after the luggage."

mrs. halliburton went in, leading janey, and was confronted by the barmaid, a smart young woman in a smart cap. "can we sleep here to-night?" she inquired.

"yes, certainly. how many beds?"

"i will go up with you and see," said mrs. halliburton. "be so kind as not to put us in your more expensive rooms," she added, in a lower tone.

the barmaid looked at her from top to toe, as it is much in the habit of barmaids to do when such a request is preferred. she saw a lady in a black silk dress, a cashmere shawl, and a plain straw bonnet, trimmed with white. simple as the attire was, quiet as was the demeanour, there was that about mrs. halliburton, in her voice, her accent, her bearing altogether, which proclaimed her the gentlewoman; and the barmaid condescended to be civil.

"i have nothing to do with the rooms," she said; "i'll call the chambermaid. my goodness! you had better get those wet things off, sir, unless you want to be laid up with cold."

the words were uttered in surprise, as her eyes encountered mr. halliburton. he looked taller, and thinner, and handsomer than ever; but he had a hollow cough now, and his cheek was hectic, and he was certainly wet through.

the chambermaid allotted them rooms. mr. halliburton, after rubbing himself dry with towels, got into a warmed bed, and had warm drink supplied to him. jane, after unpacking what would be wanted for the night, returned to the sitting-room, to which her children had been shown. a good-natured maid, seeing the boys' clothes were damp, had lighted a fire, and they were kneeling round it, having been provided with bread and butter and milk. intelligent, truthful, good-looking boys they were, with clear skins and bright, honest eyes, and open countenances. janey had fallen asleep on a chair, her flaxen curls making her a pillow on its elbow. the boys crowded to one side of the fireplace when their mother came in, leaving the larger space for her; and william rose and gave her a chair. mrs. halliburton sat down, having laid on the table a book of common prayer, which she had brought in her hand.

"mamma, i hope papa will not be ill!"

"oh, william, i fear it. such a terrible wetting! and to be so long in it! how is it that he was so much worse than you are?"

"because he sat at the end, and the gentleman next him did not hold the umbrella over him at all. when it came on to rain, some of the passengers had umbrellas and some had not, so they were divided for the best. we three had one between us, and we were wedged in between two fat old men, who helped to keep us dry. what a pity there was not a place for papa inside!"

"yes; or if he would only have taken mine!" cried mrs. halliburton. "a wetting would not have hurt me, as it may hurt him. what place did they call that, william, where i got out to ask him to change?"

"bromsgrove lickey. mamma, you have had no tea!"

"i do not care for any," she sighed. hers was a hopeful nature; but something within her, this evening, seemed to whisper of trial for the future. she turned to the table, where stood the remains of the children's meal, cut a piece of bread from the loaf, and slowly spread it with butter. then she poured out a little milk.

"dear mamma, do have some tea!" cried william; "that's nothing but our milk and water."

she shook her head and took the milk. tea would only be an additional expense, and she was too completely dispirited to care what she drank.

"i will read now," she said, taking up the prayer-book. "and afterwards, i think, you had better say your prayers here, near the fire, as you have been so wet."

she chose a short psalm, and read it aloud. then the children knelt down, each at a separate chair, to say their prayers in silence. not as children's prayers are sometimes hurried over, knelt they; but with lowly reverence, their heads bowed, their young hearts lifted, never doubting but they were heard by god. they had been trained in a good school.

did you ever have a sale of old things? goods and chattels which may have served your purpose and looked well in their places, seem so old when they come to be exhibited that you feel half-ashamed of them? and as to the sum they realise—you will not have much trouble in hoarding it. had mr. halliburton known the small sum that would be the result of his sale; had jane dreamt that they would go for an "old song," they had never consented to part with them. better have been at the cost of carrying them to helstonleigh. their bedding, blankets, etc., they did take: and it was well they did so.

i feel almost afraid to tell you how very little money they had in hand when they arrived. all their worldly wealth was little more than a hundred and twenty pounds. debts had to be paid before leaving london; and it cost money to give up their house without notice, for their landlord was severe.

one hundred and twenty pounds! and with this they had to buy fresh furniture, and to live until teaching came in. a forlorn prospect on which to recommence the world! no wonder that jane shunned even tea at the inn, or any other expense that might lessen their funds! but hope is buoyant in the human heart: and unless it were so, half the world might lay themselves down to die.

morning came: a bright, sunny, beautiful morning after the rain. not, apparently, had mr. halliburton suffered. his limbs felt a little stiff, but that would go off before the day closed. their plans were to take a small house, as cheap a one as they could find, in accordance with—you really must for once excuse the word—gentility. that—a tolerably fair appearance—was necessary to mr. halliburton's success as a teacher.

"a dry, healthy spot, a little way out of the town," mused the landlord of the "star," to whom they communicated their desire. "the london road would be the place then. and you probably will find there such a house as you require."

they found their way to the london road—a healthy suburb of the town; and there discovered a house they thought might suit them: a semi-detached house of good appearance, inclosed by iron railings, and standing a little back from the road. a sitting-room was on either side the entrance, a kitchen at the back. three bedrooms were above; and above these again was a garret. a small garden was behind the house; and beyond that was a field, which did not belong to them. the adjoining house was similar to this one; but that possessed a large and productive garden. an inmate of that house showed them over this one, dressed as a quakeress. her features were plain, but her complexion was fair and delicate, and she had calm blue eyes.

"the rent of the house is thirty-two pounds per annum," she said, in reply to mrs. halliburton's question. "it belongs to thomas ashley; but thee must not apply to him. i will furnish thee with the address of the agent, who has the letting of friend ashley's houses. it is anthony dare. you will find the house pleasant and healthy, if you decide upon it," she added, speaking to both of them.

the latter name had struck upon mr. halliburton's ear. "jane!" he whispered to his wife, "that must be the mr. dare who married my cousin, julia cooper. his name was anthony dare."

mr. halliburton proceeded alone to the office of mr. dare, the gentleman you met at mr. cooper's; mrs. halliburton returning to her children at the hotel. they had decided to take the house. mr. dare was not at home. "in london, with his wife," the head clerk said. but the clerk had power to let the house. mr. halliburton gave him some particulars with regard to himself, and they were considered satisfactory; but he did not mention that he was related to mrs. dare.

the next thing was about furniture. the clerk directed mr. halliburton to a warehouse where both new and second-hand things might be obtained, and he proceeded to it, calling in at the "star" for his wife. she knew a great deal more about furniture than he. they did the best they could, spending about fifty pounds. a kidderminster carpet was bought for the best sitting-room. the other room, which was to be mr. halliburton's study, and the bedrooms, went for the present without any. "we will buy all those things when we have succeeded a bit," said mr. halliburton.