standing before the door of the public for an hour and more together. But just then he'd had an extra glass, and he wasn't in a mood to be spoken with. So he gives the poor beast a fierce kick, and a pull at his jaw, by way of freshening him up, and the cart goes creaking on up a hill by a winding road. I could hear it as I went on by a footpath as took me a short cut into the road again. Then the noise stopped all of a sudden; and when I'd got to the end of the path, there was Timothy Pinches looking anything but wise or pleasant, and cart and donkey had both come to grief. The side of the cart was burst right out; the donkey had fallen down and cut his knees badly; the potatoes was rolling down the hill; the flour had some of it come out of the sack in a great heap, and the vinegar and treacle was running slowly through it. When I looked at poor Timothy's face, and then at the break-down, I couldn't help laughing at him; but I gave him a helping hand, and I hope he learnt a useful lesson. You see, sir, it don't do to overtask a willing beast, nor to load a cart with more goods than it's meant to carry, specially if it ain't over strong. But they're making this very mistake with many of the young ladies just now--I don't mean anything disrespectful to them in likening them to a donkey-cart, but it's true. These young ladies themselves are overtasking their constitutions which God gave them, and they're loading their brains with more than them brains was designed to carry. The Lord hasn't given them, as a rule, heads fit to bear the strain as men's heads were made to stand. I'm sure of it; it's the opinion, too, of Dr Richardson, who has the best right of any man, perhaps, to speak on this subject, as he's studied it, I should think, as much or more than any man living. Now, sir, just look at your own dear child, Miss Clara,--why, it makes my heart sore every time I look at her; she ain't got the right healthy look in her face; her mind has got more to bear than ever her Maker meant it to have; and there's no reason, surely, why she shouldn't be as cheerful as a lark and as bright as the flowers in May." "Most true! Most true!" said the vicar sorrowfully. "I only wish Mrs Maltby and my daughter could see things in this light; but when I express my fears and misgivings on this subject, they tell me that I must not take a gloomy view of things, nor alarm myself needlessly. But perhaps, dear friend, you may be able to put in a word, I know your plain, homely good sense and observation will have weight with both mother and daughter." "I'll make bold to say a word or two to them on the subject," replied Thomas Bradly, "when next I get an opportunity." CHAPTER SEVEN. A SHADOW ON THE HEARTH.