She could say nothing--the surprise of this departure overwhelmed every other feeling. She walked with him in silence-she listened to his words, and felt a vague sort of satisfaction in his expressions of attachment and fidelity; but she answered only by tears. Frank was the first to see the necessity of their parting. He accompanied her back to her aunt's, and Hester let herself in, as she had the key of the backdoor. He followed her into the passage-he clasped her to his heart, and turned hastily away. Hester was not aware that he was gone till she heard the door close after him; she wanted consolation—it would have been a relief to have spoken to any one-she felt half inclined to seek her aunt and confess the meeting, but her courage failed, and she hurried into her own little room, where she was soon lost in a confused reverie which blended her aunt's anger and Frank's departure together. Leaving her to the enjoyment (as people are said to enjoy a bad state of health) of her solitary and melancholy reverie, we will follow the worthy Mr. Lowndes out of church, who, leaving his wife to hurry home about dinner, declared his intention of paying Mrs. Hester Malpas a visit. The fact was, he had missed Hester from her accustomed place in church-thought that she was still kept prisoner to the house-and considering her to have been punished quite long enough, resolved to speak a word in her favour to her aunt. He knocked at the door, but instead of being let in with that promptitude which characterized all the movements of Mrs. Hester's household, he was kept waiting; he knocked again-still no answer. At this moment, just as Mr. Lowndes' temper was giving more way than the door, the servant girl came up, who had loitered longer on her way from church, arrived, and let them in together. She threw open the parlour door, but instantly sprung back with a scream. Mr. Lowndes advanced, but he, too, started back with an exclamation of horror. The girl caught hold of his arm, and both stood trembling for a moment, ere they mustered courage to enter that fated and fearful room. The presence of death is always awful, but death, the sudden and the violent, has a terror far beyond common and natural fear. The poor old lady was lying with her face on the floor, and the manner of her death was instantly obvious-a violent blow on the back of the head had fractured the skull, and a dark red stain marked the clean white cap, whence the blood was slowly trickling. They raised the body, and placed it in the large arm-chair, the customary seat of the deceased. "Good God! where is Miss Hester ?" exclaimed Mr. Lowndes. The servant girl ran into the passage, and called at the foot of the stairs -she had not courage to ascend them. There was at first no answershe called again—the door of Hester's apartment was opened slowly, and a light but hesitating step was heard. "Miss Hester, oh! Miss Hester, come down to your aunt." Hester's faint and broken voice answered,

Not yet, not yet-I cannot bear it."

Fatally were these words remembered against her. That evening saw the unfortunate girl confined in a solitary cell in Newgate. We shall only give the brief outline of the evidence that first threw, and then fixed the imputation of guilt upon her. It was evident that the murderer, whoever he was, had entered by the door: true, the window was open, but had any one entered through it there must have been the trace of footsteps on the little flower-bed of the small garden in front. The house, too, had been rifled by one who appeared to know it well, while

nothing but the most portable articles were taken-the few spoons, the old lady's watch, and whatever money there might have been, for not a shilling even was to be found anywhere. A letter, however, was found from Mr. Malpas to his sister, mentioning that Frank Horton, who had long been very wild, had been forced to quit the neighbourhood in consequence of having been engaged in an affray with some gamekeepers, and it was supposed that poaching was the least crime of the gang with whom he had been connected. The epistle concluded by a hope very earnestly expressed, that if, as common report went, Frank had gone up to London, he might not meet with Hester, and begging if he attempted to renew the acquaintance, a stop should be put to it at once. It was proved that Hester had met this young man several times in secret, the last in defiance of her aunt's express prohibition; that instead of going to church she had met him, and he had been seen leaving the house with all possible haste about the very time the murder had been committed, and he was traced to the river side. Two vessels had that morning sailed for America, but it was impossible to learn whether he was a passenger in either. Hester's own exclamation, too, seemed to confirm every suspicion, so did her terror, her confusion, and her bewildered manner. Every body said that she looked so guilty, and the coroner's inquest brought in a verdict for her committal.

It was a fine summer evening when Mr. Malpas and his family were seated, some in the porch of the cottage, while the younger children were scattered about the garden. There was an expression of cheerfulness in the face of the parents very different to the harsh, hard despondency of a twelvemonth since; and Hester, as her mother always prognosticated she would, had indeed brought a blessing on her family. Many an anxious glance was cast down the road, for to-day the post came in, and one of the boys had been dispatched to the village to see if there was a letter from Hester. The child was soon discovered running at full speed, and a letter was in his hand. "It is not my sister's handwriting," said he, with the blank look of disappointment. Mr. Malpas opened the epistle, which was from Mr. Lowndes, and broke kindly, though abruptly, his daughter's dreadful situation. The unhappy father sunk back senseless in his seat, and in care for his recovery Mrs. Malpas had a brief respite -but she, too, had to learn the wretched truth. How that miserable day passed no words may tell. Early next morning Mr. Malpas woke from the brief but heavy sleep of complete exhaustion; the cold grey light glared in from the window-he started from his seat, for he had never gone to bed—it was but a moment's oblivion, for the whole truth rose terrible and distinct. In such a state solitude was no relief, and he sought his wife to consult with her on the necessity of his going to London. He found only his other daughter, who had scarcely courage to tell him that her mother had already departed for town, and to give him the few scarcely legible lines which his wife had left.

The next evening, and Mrs. Malpas had found her way to the cell of her unhappy child. All was over-she had been tried and found guilty, not of the actual murder, but of abetting and concealing it, and the following morning was the one appointed when the sentence of the law was to be carried into effect. "This is not Hester!" exclaimed Mrs. Malpas, when she entered the cell and even from a mother's lips the ejaculation might be excused, so little resemblance was there between

the pale emaciated creature before her, and the bright and blooming girl with whom she had parted. Hester was seated on the side of the iron bedstead-her hands clasping her knees, rocking herself to and fro, with a low monotonous moan, which would rather have seemed to indicate bodily pain than mental anguish. Her long hair-that long and beautiful brown hair of which her mother had been so proud-hung dishevelled over her shoulders, but more than half of it was grey. Her eyes were dim and sunk in her head, and looked straight forward, with a blank stupid expression. Her mother whispered her name-Hester made no answer; she took one of her hands-the prisoner drew it pettishly away. That live-long night the mother watched by her child—but that child never knew her again, After some time she seemed soothed by those kind and gentle caresses, but she never gave the slightest token of knowing from whom they came.

Morning arrived at last. With what loathing horror did Mrs. Malpas watch the dim grey light mark the dull outline of the grated window ! The morning reddened, and as the first crimson touched Hester's face as it rested sleeping on her mother's shoulder, somewhat of its former beauty came back to that fair young face. She slept long, though it was a disturbed and convulsive slumber. She was roused by a noise in the passage-bolt and bar fell heavily; there was the sound of many stepsstrange dark faces appeared at the door. They came to take the prisoner to the place of execution! The men approached Hester-they raised her from her seat-they bound her round childish arms behind her. The mother clung to her child, but that child clung not in return. Mrs. Malpas sunk, though still retaining her hold, on the floor. With what humanity such an office permitted, they disengaged her grasp they bore away the unresisting prisoner-the door closed, and the wretched mother had looked upon her child for the last time.

It was about a twelvemonth after the execution of Hester Malpas that the family were seated again, on a fine summer evening, round the door of their cottage; but a dreadful alteration had taken place in all. The father and mother looked bowed to the very earth-the very children shrunk away if a stranger passed by. Mr. Malpas had inherited his sister's property, much more considerable than had ever been supposed; but though necessity forced its use, he loathed it like a curse. An unusual sight now-the postman was seen approaching-he brought Mr. Malpas a newspaper. He shuddered as he took it, for he knew Mr. Lowndes's handwriting again. He opened it mechanically, and a large "read this" directed his attention to a particular paragraph. It was the confession of a Jew watchmaker, who had just been executed for burglary; and, among other crimes, he stated that he was the real murderer of Mrs. Hester Malpas, for which a young woman, her niece, had been executed. He had entered the window by means of a plank thrown from the garden railing to the casement, when with one blow he stunned the old lady, who was reading. Mr. Malpas went no further-the thick and blinding tears fell heavily on the paper-he could not read it aloud, but he put it into his wife's hand, with a broken ejaculation, "Thank God, she was innocent!"

**The facts of the Jew committing the murder, and the old lady's niece being hanged, are perfectly true. It happened in Wapping some forty years since.

THE GOVERNMENT AND THE TRADES' UNIONS*.

Ir is just three years ago since the Whigs entered the cabinet with the decided approbation of ninety-nine out of every hundred men in the empire. When, in 1832, they were obliged to resign office, in consequence of the opposition of the Peers to the first Reform Bill, they were literally borne back to the seat of power upon the shoulders of the people. They have since done wonders in the way of legislation, and in the preparation of further improvements. Ireland pacified-the reduction of her enormous church establishment actually commenced-the monopoly of the East India Company overthrown-the West India slavery abolished-several obnoxious taxes repealed-public expenditure materially diminished-great improvements realized, greater still promised, in almost every department of the law-inquests going on into the state of the corporations, from which we may expect the most beneficial results-these are all, we may truly say, so many titles, on the part of the government, to the sincere and lasting gratitude of every person who feels a genuine interest in the welfare of the country.

The difficulties which the Whigs have had to contend against are known, in all their extent, only to those who are initiated in the secrets of the cabinet. There was hardly any measure of reform which they could propose sufficiently extensive to satisfy the growing wishes of the people, or sufficiently limited to disarm the hostility of the Peers. While the Radicals taunted them with making sacrifices of principle to the Upper House, that House itself characterised them as traitors to the crown and the constitution. Amongst themselves, it is well known that the elements of dissension exist in some force. As far as the property of the church is concerned, Mr. Stanley is a Tory of the old school. Lord Durham, to whose manly understanding and political courage we owe, in a great measure, the reform statute, quitted the cabinet under the pretext of ill health, but really because his views of church reform could never be reconciled with those of Mr. Stanley. Earl Grey has had the good fortune, by giving way upon some points, and by postponing others, to keep the ministry together, and to that fine Fabian policy by which his counsels have been inspired, we are indebted principally for all the conquests which the people have yet won from the aristocracy. Compelled, however, to preserve, as much as possible, a middle course between the extreme parties on each side, the Whigs may, on some momentous occasion-probably the taxes, or the reform of the English churchbe placed apparently in the wrong by both, so as to bring their power into the hazard of a sudden but irrecoverable termination.

The resistance that has been recently offered to the collection of the assessed taxes points to some of the numerous difficulties, which must seriously embarrass the government at no distant period. It is obvious that these taxes must be altogether repealed, for the country will not continue to pay them. The agricultural interest will next demand, and with equal reason and force, the total removal of the malt tax. If the

*We feel ourselves bound to lay before the public these remarks, from the pen of a very able correspondent. They will afford matter for serious reflection, even to those who may not fully subscribe to the opinions of the writer.

tax.

public establishments be preserved on their present scale; that is to say, if the royal family are to be maintained at the expense of half a million per annum-if pensions to the amount of another half million are still to be paid-if seven millions and a half are to be raised for the use of the army, and nearly six millions for that of the navy—and above all, if twenty-seven millions are to be created annually for the purpose of discharging the interest of the national debt-we should be glad to know whence the Chancellor of the Exchequer is to obtain funds adequate for those different claims, if he be obliged to relinquish the two classes of impost above mentioned? It is said that he must propose a property A property tax! Who is there that does not remember the indignant eloquence with which a revenue of that description was attacked at the close of the late war? It may as well be proclaimed at once, for it is the conclusion to which the country will eventually come, that a tax which will convert every collector into a spy-which will compel the gentleman of estate, and the merchant of capital, and the professional man even of limited practice, to disclose the actual net amount of his income to the state,-will never again be tolerated in England. Perhaps, indeed, if a powerful enemy were sailing up the Channel, our fleets having been previously swept from the seas-if our wives and daughters were threatened with pollution-our sacred homes put in danger of being levelled to the earth-our temples overturned-our troops flying in despair from the front of countless hosts flushed with triumph-perhaps, in such a case as this, our rent-rolls, our debentures, our mortgages, our books of fees, our incumbrances, and our gains, would be laid open without hesitation to the world; but no state of circumstances much short of this would ever reconcile the country to a property-tax. Modify it as the ministers may-hedge it round as they can with all possible safeguards for the personal liberty of the subject, still it must always be of an inquisitorial character, and therefore in decided opposition not only to the feeling of the times, but to the genius of the constitution.

What then, it remains to be asked, will the Ministers do? What can they do? A property tax will deprive them of the support of the country gentlemen and the capitalists, who will very justly look upon it as nothing more or less than a confiscation of their revenues for the benefit of the lower classes. The lower classes threaten to rise in open insurrection if the assessed taxes be not abandoned. Is there any party prepared to take into their keeping the helm of the state, who will at once disband the army, annihilate all pensions without exception, appropriate to the uses of the state the whole property of the church, and reduce the official salaries to the American scale? The Radicals say that they are prepared to do all this, and even much more. But who are the Radicals?

Have they any men of real weight and talent amongst them?

That a government must speedily be formed of individuals able and determined to redeem the country from its increasing difficulties, it requires no power of divination to foresee. The choice was three years ago between the Tories and the Whigs; before another session elapses, the choice must be between the Whigs and those who are disposed to act on Radical principles, unless both are prepared to surrender the vessel of the state to a new party, which has already acquired a considerable degree of strength, and is actuated by pretensions of the most formidable description.