THE DRAWING MASTER

A TRUE STOBY. Martia Hartstonge (of course a fic titious na:ne) had once held a vary high appointment in India, and, I verily be lieve, discharged the duties of his office conscientiously and uprightly. A b ter-intentioned nor more honourable man never existed. Under his do minion, however, certain faults were committed, for which he, as head of the Government, wa3 held responsible, and consequently, on his arrival in Europe, instead of being received with honours and congratulations, he had to undergo the heavy attacks of the press, and a persecution unequalled in the annals of history, unmatched in bitterness and personality. Disgusted with the world wounded in his finest feelings, the ex- Governor, determining on burying his miseries in the country, resolved that no prying eye should witness the evi dent indications of a mind ill at ease, alas! but too plainly depicted on his fine countenance. Martin Hartstonge, therefore, bought an estate in Glouces tershire and retired to it, determined, as far as possible, to shut out the world, and seek, in close retirement, for consolation in the bosom of his family.
