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LEAVES FROM THE DIARY OF A…

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LEAVES FROM THE DIARY OF A WOEMG MAN. CHAPTER II.—APPRENTICESHIP. THE month of trial flew swiftly and happily away, and the end of it saw me bound for seven years, and Davie Dixon for five years, to learn a trade which had been the free choice of us both. My occupation was a real pleasure to me, and though often weary with long hours of labour during busy times, I was never tired of work. Naturally of a cheerful though not a sanguine disposition, I often found a pleasure in what Would have been a grievance to a mind differently constituted. Still there were real grievances, even for me, and some which marred the comfort of my fellow- apprentice not a little. The temper of our employer, though good and generous in the main, was variable as the weather. He would be harsh, sulky, and over- bearing at seasons when we least expected it; and, whether from a constitutional love of contradiction, or a small piece of malice, seemed always to make a point of opposing or thwarting any anticipated pleasure, whatever it might be. We found this to be so regular a thing that Davie and I were compelled at length to keep him from the knowledge of any fishing, cricketing, or bathing excursions, which he would else have prevented us from enjoying together, by finding Work for one or both of us after the regular hours. As we began at six in the morning, and usually finished at the same hour in the evening, we had many pleasant hours to spare in the long summer days. After work in the hot weather we used to leap the churchyard Wall, and scrambling down the steep on the other side to the river's brink, strip and plunge in, and revel at ease in the cool waters of the Exe. Here I learned to swim like a duck, and became so fond of the exercise. as to pursue it long after the first frost had whitened the ground. Oaoasionally we Would join the cricketers in the meadow opposite the grammar-school, where we were always welcome, as we carried good bats and balls of our own manufac- ture. I had a reputation as a hard hitter, and Davie as a famous longetop. At other times, and these were the pleasantest, we would join a party of Sally's female friends to a junketbing; this is nothing more or less than a trip to a farmhouse to eat curds and Whey covered with thick cream and sugar. Old Whit- ing would often go with us on these occasions, and, when he did, invariably added cakes and comfits to the repast, and paid for the whole generously. If a flute or a fife could be found among the party, these affairs were generally wound up with a dance upon the greensward, till the moon had risen, after which we walked home through the green lanes, start- ling the birds from their nests by our merry gossip. But I must not dwell upon such scenes as these. Time Wore on. Every fourth Sunday I passed regularly with my parents, carrying with me, as often as I could, some specimen of my progress in the art I was learning. Ere four years had elapsed I knew all that Whiting could teach me, as he himself acknowledged, and I had made, and sold in his shop, several articles of furniture which he had never before attempted to manufacture. He treated me now with marked con- sideration, and indeed would have allowed me more in- dulgence than it would have been right for me to take. Davie had not got on so well; though industrious, and obliging, and striving to do his best, he seemed to make Do progress after the first twelve or eighteen months. lie was a good hand at the box-work, and in forward- ing but failed always, more or less, in the finishing off; his joints gaped, his mitres would not come true, and his veneering blistered, and, worse than all, he began to lose heart. Sally Whiting was fond of flowers and gardening, and spent much of her time in tending the box-bordered beds in the garden, at the end of which was our workshop. I had often stopped whistling at my work to gaze at her as she stood or stooped among the flowers, herself the fairest of them all! It struck me, one July morning, that I would invite her to spend the next Sunday with me at home, to see our garden, which my father's skill had ren- dered both famous and profitable. I turned to her uncle directly the thought occurred, and asked his permission. "By all means, if you wish it," said he, and, putting his head out of the open window, called to Sally to come up into the shop. She was overjoyed at the promise of a holiday and a ride to our farm, of which she had often heard me speak, so the affair was settled at once. I should have asked Davie to join us, but could not do so, as it was a necessary regulation that one of us should always be on the spot. When Saturday came, and the market was finished, we started off merrily in the carrier's cart, which dropped us at the end of a lane which led to my father's house. We met my mother at the door. She was truly pleased to see us, and just then father came in to his supper-, and declared that! was doubly welcome this time, since I had brought my sweetheart with me. Now it happened that I had never thought of Sally as a sweetheart, or of a sweetheart at all, yet somehow I felt the notion to be something more than agreeable, and took no care to rebut the imputation. Seeing this, my mother took it as a matter of course, and was more tenderly kind to the new comer than I had ever before seen her to any one. The next day We took some pleasant walks in the neighbourhood, called on Davie's parents, where we supped, and Walked home together in the evening, and before we separated to our rest, I believe it is a fact which my wife is not for denying at the present moment, that we both made, if not the avowal at least the discovery, that we were not indifferent to each other. I made Davie my confidant in this business, as in all others, and received his jokes and gratulations on the subject with the same perfect good will as they were uttered. The time soon drew near for the termination of his apprenticeship, he having, as I mentioned before, two years less ta serve than myself. He was not, however, to be his own master immediately, but was to be turned over to a relative in London, who carried on a good business in a leading thoroughfare. He took his departure from Tiverton on the very day that finished his term, and, first visiting home, a week after set out on his journey to London. The two years that followed were perhaps the happiest of my life. Many serious and fine things have been said and written against early attachments, and the ghost of Mr. Malthus has been conjured up to terrify incautious youth, and warn them against the danger of early marriages. If my experience is worth anything—the experience of one plighted at eighteen and married at three-and twenty, and who, if it was a mistake, has not found it out at forty—all such philo- sophy is sheer moonshine and worse than useless. The proper time for a man to marry is just that at which he finds himself able to maintain a wife in such a state of comfort and respectability as that to which Bhe has been accustomed from a child,^ and the sooner he is "entangled," as the phrase is, with a virtuous and even-tempered lass, provided he has a fair and not too remote a prospect of settling, the better. The better for his health, the better for his intellect, the better for industry and energy of cha- racter, and best of all for the cultivation of moral and religious principles. At any rate I found it so, as there is no doubt thousands have done besides. Many a doubtful or equivocal act that the thoughtless young man may be led into, and many an imprudence of which such an one might be guilty, become sheer impossibilities to one who feels his whole being bound up with the happiness of another, who is dearer to him than life. Further, the first birth of a true attachment is the birth also of so many of the social and domestic virtues, that the sooner a man is the sabject or it the purer is his after career. Careful economy, watc titaLneaa of temper, self-sacrificing kindness (the reality of which politeness is the outward symbol), and a thousand other adornments of character, spring into being or develop themselves in greater perfection with the first dawnof serious affection. It is a preservative from a. beat of follies and vices, while its eventual consumma- tion is a perennial reward of abstinence from them. But I must not longer detain the reader with scones .1 which, however pleasant in remembrance, may be deemed foreign to the purpose of these papers. So I pass over these two delightful years-the evening walks through the verdant fields and shady lanes; the Sunday morning round to church, with the fairest garden flower in my button-hole, placed there by Sally's fairy fingers and the unreserved confidence on every subject that grew by degrees between us, and which completely sbut out the possibility of a mis- Understanding,. There is one thing I must yet mention and which I did not intend to allude to, but find that it must be done to render what has yet to be said intelligible. My master had a son, whom (like many other foolish parents) he was determined to bring up for the Church, and for whom he willingly made the greatest sacrifices. To this young man, who "visited us twiee a year for a month each time, I had a sort of instinctive aversion; and though I took pain s not to show it, knowing how unreasonable such feeling's usually are, I never could meet him with cordiality. Latterly, however, his behaviour to his cousin Sally, whom he treated with a flippant assumption of su- periority, rendered his presence a perfect plague to us both. Once, when a boy, during my first years, he had struck her in my presence, for which I gave him the Devonshire throw on the kitchen floor. Subse- quent disagreements on the same score had not im- proved our liking for each other, and more than the barest forms of civility Bever passed between us. Robert Whiting was preparing for college under a "crammer" of some reputation in Exeter, and his father anxious for his matriculation, proceeded with him to Oxford about six months after Davie left us. Before the lad had been at the university half a year I could perceive a great alteration for the worst in the temper of the old man. Every letter from his son, though they were not many, threw him into a fit of abstraction, followed by one of anger and vexation. He kept, however, the cause of his chagrin to himself, and as I never questioned his orders, however domi- neering, and knew his disposition tea well to allow it to annoy me, we got on pretty well. The last year of my apprenticeship was the first of wages, and by means of overtime and occasional jobs on my own ac- count, which were allowed me, I managed to save twenty pounds. Fifteen of this I left with Sally to be deposited in the savings' bank in her name, and with the remaining five in my pocket I set out, at the ter- mination of my apprenticeship, and after spending a pleasant though anxious fortnight with my parents, to seek my fortune in London. (To be continued.)

A STEAMSHIP ON FIRE ON THE…

[No title]

Money Market

The Corn Trade.

Meat and Poultry Markets.

Fruit and Vegetable Market.

A RAMBLER'S JOTTINGS. -----

OUR "CITY" ARTICLE. .