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Photographic

Sciences

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23 WIST MAIN srRHT

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Ain

6BEEN FASTDlli Al PICCMLT.

^ §OUl.

By WILLIAM BLACK,

autbok or "a frinoess or thulr," " uadcaf violet," "a dauobteb op hbtbt**
"the stbanqb adtentubes of a phaeton," etc.,

IN CONJUNCTION WITH AN AMERICAN WRITER,

THE LIBRARY

THE UNIVERSITY OF
BRITISH COLUMBIA

MONTREAL:

DiCWSON BROTHERS, PUBLISffETlS.

1878.

I i

Bfltond aoeording to Afst of Parllsment of Canada, In the y«arlS77|ligr

DAWSON BROTHERS.

la tb»OiBoe «f the Miniiter of Agri n ultef a.

SnVKNSON

You may bi

omen - folk

an had come

ive among u

ajor-domo o1

ho has neve

eanor, and t

lild, and a w

iw ; and no s

c says,

"Oh,thepo(

"That," it i

trned wiadoi

eath in his

r character

iibt condone

8he taliea nc

distant and

rophetess o

Think of t

I tor — who w

MOW a brisk

lors of a coil

alone there

world. Sh

fjuide her — '

'But why,"

nder — " whj

h a terrible

'ommon-aen

'The getting

after. How

t this young

', is at the pi

ival? W

niich as her

a vision, a ]

than I am

the real wo

back to the

will wonder

ch, and griei

may laugh

ther meek li

It I say is ti

I't see us as

e to bear tl

's the woma

pens once—

; she was t

i shone in h

cely good e

marries; a

surely, noi

» 1.

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCTORY.

You may be sure there was a stir among our
omen -folk when they heard that a young
an had come courting tiie Earl's daughter. We
ive among us — or over us, rather — a miniature
ajor-domo of a woman, a mere wisp of a thing,
lio has nevertheless an awful majesty of de-
eanor, and the large and innocent eyes of a
lild, and a wit as nimble and elusive as a min-
iw ; and no sooner is this matter mentioned than
e says,

" Oh, the poor child ! And she has no mother."
"That," it is observed by a person who has
rned wisdom, and does not talk above his
leath in his own house — " that is a defect in
r character which her future husband will no
ubt condone."

\iihe takes no heed. The large and tender eyes
distant and troubled. She has become a seer,
rophetess of evil things in the days to come.
" Think of tha child !" she says to our gent'e
itor — who was once being courted herself, but
now a brisk young matron blushing with the
iiors of a couple of bairns — "think of her being
alone there, with scarcely a woman friend in
world. She has no one to warn her, no one
guide her — "
But why," says our young matron, with mild
iider — " why should she want warning? Is it
h a terrible thing to get married ?"
;!ommon-sense does not touch the inspired.
' The getting married ? No. It is the awaken-
after. How can she tell — how can she know —
t this young man, if he really means to marry
, is at the present moment courting her dead-
it rival ? Whom has she to fear in the future
niieh as her old idealized self ? He is building
a vision, a phantom, no more like that poor
i than I am like her; and then, when he finds
the real woman after marriage, his heart will
bauk to the old creation of his own fancy, and
will wonder how she could have changed so
ch, and grieve over his disappointment. Yes,
may laugh" — this is a sudden onslaught on
ther meek listener — "but every woman knows
It I say is true. And is it our fault that men
t see us as we are u..til it is too late? We
e to bear the blame, at all events. It is al-
'3 the woman. Once upon a time — and it only
ipens once — she was a beautiful, angelic creat-
she was tilled with noble aspirations ; wis-
shone in her face ; I suppose the earth was
cely good enough for her ta walk on. Then
marries ; and her husband discovers, slowly
surely, not his own blunder, but that his

imaginary heroine has changed into an ordinary
woman, who has an occasional headache like oth-
er people, and must spend a good deal of her life
in thinking about shops and dinners. He tries to
hide his dismay; he is very polite to her; buc
how can she fail to see that he is in love, not
with herself at all, but with that old ideal of his
own creation, and that he bitterly regrets in se-
cret the destruction of his hopes ? That is no
laughing matter. People talk about great trage-
dies. The fierce passions are splendid because
there is noise and stamping about them. But if
a man stabs a woman and puts her out of the
world, is she not at peace ? • And if a man puts
a bullet through his head, there is an end of his
trouble. But I will tell you my belief, that all
the battles and wars that ever were in the world
have not caused the fifteenth part of the misery
and fagic suffering that have been caused by this
very thing you are laughing at — those false ideals
formed before marriage. You may laugh if you
like."

Indeed, we were not disposed to laugh. She
was really in earnest. She had spoken rapidly,
with something of an indigiuint thrill in her voice,
and a proud and pathetic look in her dark eyes.
We had, after all, a certain fondness fo." this gen-
tie oratoi ; and it was difficult to resist the eager
pleading of her impassioned words when, as now,
her heart was full of what she was saying.

Or was it the beautiful May morning, and the
sunlight shining on the white hawthorn and the
lilacs, and the sleepy shadow of the cedar on the
lawn, and the clear singing of the larks far away
in the blue, that led us to listen so placidly to the
voice of the charmer? A new-comer broke the
spell. A heavy-footed cob came trotting up to
the veranda ; his rider, a tall young man with a
brown beard, leaped down on the gravel, and
called aloud in his stormy way,

" Donnerwetter ! It is as warm to-day — it is as
warm as July. Why do you all sit here ? Come !
Shall we make it a holiday ? Shall we drive to
Guildford ?— Weybridge ?— Chertsey ?— Esher V"

The two women were sneaking off by them-
selves, perhaps because they wished to have a
further talk about poor Lady Sylvia and her aw-
ful lute ; perhaps because they were anxious, like
all women, to leave holiday arrangements in oth-
er L^nds, in order to have the right of subse-
quently grumbling over them.

" Stay !" cries one of us, who has been released
from the spell. " There is another word to be
said on that subject. You are not going to ride
rough-shod over as, and then sneak out at the
back-door before we have recover'^d from the
fright. This, then, is. your contention-" that *

GREEN PASTURED AND PICCADILLY.

vast number of women arc enduring misery be-
cause their husbands have become disillusionized,
and cun nut conceal the fact V And that is tho
fault of tlic husbands. Tlicy construct an ideal
woman, marry a real one, and live miserable
ever uftur, because they can't have that ima(;inu-
tive toy of their brain. Now don' I you think,
if this were true — if this wretchedness were so
wide-spread — it would cure itself y Have man-
kind i^une on blunu ^ring for age.t, because of tlie
non-urrivul of a certain awful and mysterious
Surrey prophetess V Wliy haven't women form-
ed a universal association fur the destructiua uf
lovers' dreams ?"

'• I tell you, you may laugh as you like," is the
calm reply, " but what I say is true ; and every
married woman will tell you it is true. Why
don't women cure it ? If it comes to that, wom-
en arc us foolish us men. Tho girl makes her
lover a hero; she wakes up after marriage to
find hira as he really is, and tho highest hope
of her life falls dead."

" Then we are all disappointed, and all miser-
able. That is your conclusion V"

"Not all, " is the answer; and there is a slight
change of tone audible here, a slight smile visi-
ble on her lips. " There are many whose imagi-
nation never went tWe length of constructing any
ideal, except that of a moor covered with grouse.
There are olIieM who have educated themselves
into a useful iudill'crcntism or cynicism. Unfor-
tunately it is the nobler nature; that suffer
most."

" Well, this is a tolerably lively prospect for
every girl who thinks of getting married. Pray,
Frau Philosophin, have you been constructing all
these liddle-stick theories out of your own head,
or have you been making a special study of Syl-
via Blythc y"

" 1 know Lady Sylvia better than most people.
She is a very earnest girl. She has ideals, con-
victions, aspirations — a whole stock in trade of
things that a good many girls seem to get on
very well without. If that poor girl is disap-
pointed in her marriage, it will kill her."

" Disappointed in hor marriage !" calls out the
young man, who has been standing patiently with
the bridle of his cob in his hand. " Why do you
think that already? No, no. It is the girl her-
self — she lives in that solitary place, and imagines
mere fuulish things — it is she herself has put that
into your mind. Disappointed ! No, no. There
is not any good reason — there is not any good
sense in that. This young fellow Balfour, every
one speaks well of liira; he will have a great
name some day ; he is busy, a very active man.
I hear of him in many places."

" I wisli lie was dead !" says my Lady ; and,
curiously enough, at this moment her eyes till
with tears, and she turns and walks proudly
away, accompanied by her faithful friend.

The young man turns in amazement.

" What have I done ? Am I not right ? There
is nothing bad that Balfoi"* has done V"

" There is plenty bad in what he means to do,
if it is true he is going to eiu rv olf Lady Sylvia
Blythe. But when you, Herr Lit iiti ;int, gave him
that tine certihcatc of character, I suppose you
did. ' know that people don't quite agree about
Mr. y .gh Balfour ? I suppose you don't know
that a good many folks regard him as a bullying,
overbearing, and portentously serious Scotchman,

a little too eager to tread on one's corns, and nol
very particular as to tho means he uses for hii
own advancement ? Is it very creditable, for ex
ample, that he should bo merely a wurming-paii
for young Ulynne in that wretched little Irisli
borough y Is it decent that he should apparent

ly take a pride in insulting the deputations that him— if h

come to him t A membur uf Parliament is sup
posed to pay sumo respect to tho pcuplo who
elected him."

Here the brown-visaged young man burst into
a roar of luugiitci

"It is splendid — it is tho best joke I havt
known. They insult him ; why should he noi
turn round and say to them, 'Do you go to tlu
devil !' He is (piile right. I udmiie liim. Sack
ernient ! — 1 would do that too."

So much for a morning gossip over the affair
of two ptuitio who were not much more thai
strangers to us. We hud but little notion thci
that we were all to become more intimately re
lated, our lives be'ng fur a space intertwisted h
the cunning bunds of circuinstuiice. The subjeut
iiowever, did nut at all depart f rum the mind n
our sovereign lady and ruler. We could wee tlia
her eyes were troul)led. When it was propfisu
to her that she shoidd make u party to driv
somewhere or other, she begged tlnil it might Ij
made up without her. We luilf suspected whitb
er she meant to drive.

Some hour or two utter that you might havi
seen a pair of ponies, not niueli bigger thai
mice, being slowly driven along a dusty lane tlm
skirted a great park. The driver was a lady
and she wus alone. She did not seem tJ pir
much heed to the beautiful spring foliage of ti.i
limes nnd elms, to tho blossoms of the ehestnutJ
nor yet to the bluelx'lls and prinnoses visible oi
the oilier side oi llie gray paling, where the youni
rabbits were scurrying into tht; hules in the banli:

There was a smart pattering uf liuofs behiiii
her; and presently slu; wus uvertakenby a youiii
gentleman of sunu^ fourteen years or so, who toi
off his tall hat with much ceremony, and politel
bade her goocl-niorning,

" Good-morning, Mr. John," said she, in return
" Do you know it Lady Sylvia is at hon>e y"

"I should think she wa.s," said the boy, as li
got down from his horse, and led it by the sid
of the pony-chaise, that he might the better con
tinuc the conversation. " [ should think st
was. My uncle's gone to town. Look here
I've been over to the 'Fox and Hounds' for
bottle of Champagne. Sha'n't we have some fun
You'll stay to lunch, of course V"

In fact, there was a bottle wrapped round wit
brown paper under his arm.

" Oh, Mr. John, how could you do that y Yi
know your cousin will bo very angry."

" Not a bit," said he, confidently. " Old Sylli
bus is a rattling good sort of girl. She'll c
clare I might have had Champagne at the hall-
which isn't true, for my noble uncle is an uncon
monly sharp sort of chap, and I believe he takt
tho key of the wine-cellar with him — and the
she'll settle down to it. She's rather serious, yo
know ; and would like to come the maternal ovc
you ; but she has got just as good a notion of tu
as most girls. You needn't be afraid about tin
Old Syllabus and I are first-rate friends ; we geto

"That
ate."

The inr
brat of a
of u man,
uous, lam

capitally together. You see, I dun't try to spoo 8he is youni

her, as many a fellow would do in my place,

fectly swe
the tiendi
would hav
than he v
years of 1
to know y
He had a
this simplt
the world
'out once
the place;
day, he wa
as if they
imploring
be came bi
" It's an
poor girl i
thing of t
more impc
don't supi
money — in
uji^but 1 1
get a towu-
iloesn't he
down old I
ably in Bru
sumcthing
VVIiy, she 1
got no moi
(luiry-maid.
tile Park s
do you thin
1 think
Park more
innucent an
"And till
The wlii/ic 1
cause my i
down, and
farm buildi
the biggest
overrun wit
gave him oi
was grumbl
my uncle, '
Biiy nothing
ful shame,
he keeps he

"But is
should man
" I can te
difficult evt
thoughtful <
men don't
girl has a li
Last year I
could see at
ers were be
thought of i
with a whol
"Yes, thi
grave answe
be no hurry

at the right

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

'a corns, and not
ho uHi-H for his
reUitublf, for ex
' a wtirniing-pni'
ulicd littlu Irish
iliuulU Hpparcnt
dupiitutiona timt
iirliumcnt id sup.
tlic people who

I man burst into

icst joke I hav
y Hliuiild ho no
lo you go to till
iiiii'c liiiu. Hiuik-

) over the affuin
luiicli uioru timi
Uttli! notion tlici
ire intinmtcly re
u intertwiHted li]
ICC. Till' rtubjeci
'rum tiie mind n
kVo I'ouid sec tlia
I it wiirt pioi)6g«
a piirty to driv
I lliiU it miglit b
suspected whitli

t you iniglit havi

lUfli bifrger tha

a ilusty huie tlia

•ivi".' was a lad

not sei'in tJ jm

ing foliage of thi

of tlic chestniiti

mroscs visible o

. wliiMV the youii!

oles iu tlie banlii

of liuofs behiii

■taltcn by a youiij

■s or so, who ton

lony, and politcl

id shp, in return
at home y"
id tlie boy, as li
i it by iho sid
it tlie better con
liould think sli
irn. Look here
d Hounds' for
have some fun

ipped round witl

do that? Yo
ngry."
tly." "OldSylli
girl. She'll d
;ne at the hall
lelc is an uncon
believe he takt

him — and tlie
.(her serious, yo
he maternal ovc
il a notion of f u
fraid about tha
■lends; we get o
un't try to spot
n my place."

" That la very sensible of you — very consider-
ate."

The innocence of those eyes of hers ! If that
brat of a school-boy, who wan assuminr; rlio airs
of u mull, could have analyzed the terutr, ingen-
uous, lamb-llku look which was directed toward
liiin — if he could have seen through those per-
fectly sweet and approving eyes, and discovered
tlie fiendish laughter and sarcasm behhid — he
would have learned more of the nature of women
than he was likely to learn in any half dozen
years of his idiotic existence. liut how was he
to know t He chattered on more freely than ever.
He had a tlrin conviction that he was impressing
tills simple country person with his knowledge of
the world and of human nature. She had been
hut once to Oxford. He had never even seen
the place ; but then, as he was going there some
(lay, he was justified in speaking of the colleges
as if they were all on their knees before him,
imploring him to accept a fellowship. And then
he came back to his cousin Sylvia.

" It's an awful shame," said he, " to shut up the
poor girl in that place. She'll never know any
tiling of the world: she thinks there's nothing
more important than cowslips and daisies. I
don't suppose my uncle is overburdened with
money — in fact, I believe he must be rather hard
uj) — but I never heard of an curl yet w ho couldn't
get a town-house somehow, if he wanted to. Why
doesn't he get another mortgage on this tumble-
duwii old estate of his, and go and live comfort-
ably in Brutoii Street, and show poor old Syllabus
something of what's rea'ly going ou in the world ?
Why, she hasn't even been prescited. She has
got no mure notion of a London season than a
(liiiry-niaid. And yet I think if you took her into
the Park she would hold her own there: what
do you think y"

' I think you would not get many girls in the
Park more beautiful than Lady Sylvia," is the
innocent answer. •

'And this old place ! What's the good of it?
The w'.ioic tnt;'te is going to wreck and ruin be-
cause my uncle won't have the rabbits killed
down, and he won't spend any money on the
farm buildings. And that old bailiff, Moggs, is
tlie biggest fool 1 ever saw : th» whole place is
overrun witli couch-grass. I am glad my uncle
gave him one for himself the other day. Moggs
was grumbling about the rabbits. ' Moggs,' said
my uncle, 'you let my rabbits alone, and 1 shall
Buy nothing about your couch.' But it's an aw-
ful shame. And he'll never get her married if
he keeps her buried down here."

" But is there any necessity that your cousin
should marry y"

" I can tell you it is becoming more and more
difficult every year," said this experienced and
thoughtful observer, " to get girls iniirried. The
men don't seem to see it, somehow, unless the
girl has a lot of money and good looks as well.
Last year I believe it was something awful ; you
could see at the end of the season how the moth-
era were beginning to pull long faces when they
thought of having to start off for Baden-Baden
with a whole lot of unsalable articles on hand."

" Yes, that ia a serious responsibility," is the
grave answer. " But then, you know, there need
be no hurry about getting your cousin married.
She is young. I think if you wait you will find
at the right moment the beautiful prince come

riding out of tho wood to carry her off, just aa
happens in the story-books."

" Well, you know," said this chattering boy,
with a smile, " people have begun to talk al-
ready. There is that big boor of a S(^otcli fel-
low — what's his name? — Balfour — has been down
here a good many times lately ; and, of course,
gossips jump at conclusions. But that is a little
too ridiculous. I don't think you will catch old
Syllabus, with all her crotchets, marrying a man
in the rum and sugar line. Ur is it calico and
opium ?"

" But I thought he had nover had any thing to
<lii with the firm? And I thought it was one of
the must famous merchant houses in the world ?"

" Well, I don't suppose he smears his hands
with treacle and wears an apron ; but — but it is
too ridiculous. I have no doubt when my uncle
has got all he wants out of him, he won't trou-
ble Willowby again. Of course I haven't men-
tioned the matter to old Syllabus. That would
be no use. If it were true, she would not con-
fess it : girls always tell lies about such things."

"There you have acted wisely; I would not
mention such idle rumors to her, if I were you.
Shall I take the bottle from you ?"

"If you would," said he. "And I shall ride
now; for we have little time to spare; and I
want you to see old Syllabus's face when I pro-
duce the Champagne at lunch."

So the lad got on his horse again, and tho
cavalcade moved forward at a brisk trot. It was
a beautiful country through which they were
passing, densely wooded here and there, and here
and there showing long .stretches of lioathy com-
mon with patches of black firs standing clear
against the sky, And the bright May sunlight
was shining through the young green foliage of
the beeches and elms ; the air was sweet with the
scent of hawthorn and lilac ; now and again they
heard the deep "joug, joug" of a nightingale
from out of a grove of young larches and spruce,

By-and-by they came to a plain little lodge,
and passed through the gates, and drove along
an avenue of tall elms and branching chestnuts.
There was a glimmer of a gray house through
the trees. Then they swept round by a spacious
lawn, and drew up in front of the wide-open door,
while Mr. John, leaping down from his horse,
rang loudly at the hall. Yet there seemed to be
nobody about this deserted house.

It was a long, low, rambling building of gray
stone, with no architectural pretensions whatso-
ever. It had some pillars here and there, and a
lion or two, to distinguish it from a county jail or
an asylum : otherwise there was nothing about it
to catch the eye.

But the beauty of Lady Sylvia's home lay not
in the plain gray building, but in the far-reaching
park, now yellowed all over with buttercups, and
studded here and there with noble elms. And
on the northern side this high-lying park sloped
suddenly down to a long lake, where there was a
boat-house and a punt or two for pushing through
the reeds and water-lilies along the shore, while
beyond that again was a great stretch of culti-
vated country, lying warm and silent in the sum-
mer light. Tlie house was strangely still ; there
was no sign of life about it. There was no an-
imal of any kind in the park. There was no
sound but the singing of birds in the trees, and
the call of the cuckoo, soft and muffled and re*

OnEEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

uioto. Tho very witidii hocuicU to dio down as
tliuy ni'ui'L'd tliu plitcu; tliuru was Hcarculy a rufltio |
in tliu truuH, It wuH liorv, tliuii, that tho Lady '
8ylvia had ^i-owii up; it wiih liuru thut hIio now
Uvud and wulkud and druanioi! hi tho secrucy and '
iiiluuuu of tbu utill wuudlund wuya.

Cn AFTER IL

TIIK MIHTIIKHH OK WIIXOWDY.

TiiK Lndy Hylvia nnwo with tliu curly dawn, and
drcHscd und Htoio nolHt'liMMJy down tlio Htair»i iind
through tliu grtMit HtoMu hall. Clad all in a pnio
bliiu, with u thin whitu Kannunt thrown round
her head und HJinuldurH, hIiu looked like a ^'hoHt I
as Mho paHrii!<i through Ihu nIi-i'imm^ house ; but I
ijhu waH no longer llku u ghimt when nhe went |
out on to thu high terrace, and stood there in the
blazu of a May morning. Ruther she might have
been taken for tho very typo of Englisili girlhood
in itH HweeteHt Hpring-time, and thu world can
Bhow notliing moro fair and nohio and gracious
than that. I'erhapH, aM her hoy cousin had said,
hIiu was a Irillu Hcrious in expression, for she
had lived nmeli alone, and shu had pondered,
in lier own way, over many things. But surely
theru was no uxuesM of gloom about tho sweet
yoimg fa(!D— its delicatu oval just catching tho
warm sunlight — or about tho pretty, half-parted,
and perha|)s somowhat too sensitive, lips ; nor
yet resting on tho calm and thoughtful forehead
that had as yet no wrinklo of ago or care. How-
ever, it was alwayH diilicidt to scan the separate
features of this girl ; vou were drawn away from
that by tho lrrusistil)lo fascination of her eyes,
and thero shone her lifu and soul. What were
they — gray, blue, or black y No ono could exact-
ly tell ; but they were large, and they had dark
pupils, and they were under long eyelashes.
Probably, seeing that her face was fair — and
even paler than ono might have expected — and
her hair of a light, wavy, and beautiful brown,
those eyes were blue or gray ; but that was of
little con»o(pience. It was tho story they told
that was of interest. And here, indeed, tliore
was a certain seriousness about her face, but it
was the seriousness of sincerity. There was no
cotiuetry in those tender and earnest eyes. Fa-
miliar words awpiired a new import when Lady
Sylvia spoko them ; for her eyes told you that
she meant what she said, and more than that.

It was as yet thu early morning, and the level
sunshine spread a golden glory over tho eastward-
looking branches of thu great clma, and threw
long sliadows on tho greensward of the park.
Far away tho world lay all asleep, though the
kindling light of the new day was shining on the
green plains, and on the white hawthorns, and on
this or thut gray house remotely visible among
the trees. What could be a fitter surrounding
for tills young English girl than this English-look-
ing landscape ? They were both of them in the
freshness and beauty of their spring-time, that
comes but once in a year and once in a life.

She passed along the terrace. Down below
her the lake lay still ; there was not a breath of
wind to break tho reflections of the trees on the
glassy surface. Hut she was not quite alone in
this silent and sleeping world. Her friends and
companions, tho birds, hud been up before her.

«ndent8 wi

W0O(

new all tl
ler eompan
ur exanipU
iHHsed tlir
luckbirds

She could hear tho twittering of the young >tar._
lings in their nests as their parents came and
went carrying food, and the loud and joyful " tirr
a-wec, tirr-a-wee, prooit, tweet !" of the thrushes,
and the low eurrooing of the wood-pigeon, anii
tho soft call of the cuckoo, that seemed to come

in whenever on interval of silence fitted. Th( ' .

swallows dipped and Hashed and circled over tlu ",") ,", ""
bosom of the Jake. Thero were blackbirds ea "*^'' * " **'
gerly but cautiously at work, with thoir short spas
modic trippings, on the lawn. A robin, perchei
on the iron railing, eyed her curiously, and seem
ed more disposed to approach than to retreat.

For, indeed, she carried a small basket, with
which the robin was doubtless familiar; and now
she opened it and began to scatter handfuls ol
crumbs on the gravel. A multitude of sparrows ;'^^° struuf!
hitherto invisililc, seemed to spring into life ^^ ""**-'''*
Tho robin descendeil from his percli. But 8h(
did not wait to see how hur bounties were shared
she had work further on.

Now the high-lving park and ground of Willow K"'" ! """ '
by Hall formed a dividing territory between twcffl",*? "";_' '
very different sorts of country. On tliu north
away beyond the lake, lay a broad plain of culti
vated ground, green and soft and fair, dottei
with clusters of farm buildings and scored by tal
hedge-rows. On the south, on tho other hand ' , , . ,•
thero was a wilderness of sanily heath and darii "|"'*"" i "
green common, now all ablazo with gorso aiu
broom ; black pine woods high up at the horizon
and one long, yellow, and dusty road apparcntlj
leading nowliere, for there was no trace of towi
or village as far as the eye could see.

It was in this latter direction that Sylvia Blyth(
now turned her steps ; and you will never knov

anv thine about her unless vou know somethini l'"^^'"-'''- ^

of these her secret haunts and silent ways. The.''

were her world. Beyond that distant line of (ii

wood on the horizon her imagination seldom carei

to stray. She had been up to London, of course

had staid with her father at a hotel in Arling

ton Street ; had been to the opera once or twice

and dined at some friends' houses. But of tli^

great, actual, struggling, and suffering world — o

the ships carrying emigrants to unknown landi ,

beyond the cruel seas, of the hordes driven dowij" •{ R'?""

to death by disease and crime in the scpialid den

of great cities, of the eager battle and flushei ""''e and b

hopes and bitter disappointments of life — wha

could she know ? Most girls become aenuaintei ^ *"". " C>'

■l . . ' iin A f'nii

igc

lere the su
led wilderi
lue hyaein
anipion, an
te to gatlii
lier dres)
liite and w

lie hummci

IS burning
le new brai
een, tlieir
diiiary fen
iree claws

uite ur.coiii'
lek pheasai
1st catching
stalked ai
)loi'e(i 1CII, I
cut <m agai
ce, and loo

■just one I)
sible. Tht
which was
Kir stood a
id carried 1
?t, let lier!:(
und liersell
ttste of heal
This was ^

It showing

rch-tree noi

at some time or other with a little picturcsqiK
misery. It excites feelings of pity and tender
ness, and calls forth port-wine and tracts. 1
comes to them with the recommendation of tli(
curate. But even this small knowledge of a bi
of the suffering in the world had been denied t(
Lady Sylvia ; for her father, hearing that she con
templated some charitable visitation of the kind
had strictly Torbidden it.

" Look here, Sylvia," said he, " I won't hav
you go trying to catch scarlet fever or somethini
of that sort. We have no people of our owi
that want looking after in that way ; if there are
let them come to Mrs. Thomas. As for sick chil
dren and infirm grandfathers elsewhere, you cai
do them no good; there are plenty who can-
leave it to them. Now don't forget that. Ani
if I catch either Mr. Shuttleworth or Dr. Grey al
lowing you to go near any of these hovels, I ca
tell you they will hear of it."

And so it came to be that her friends and d(

on. A coil
windmill, i
at again tl
rizon, and
She huinin
mctimes si
! alive with
rienccd bal
d f, I most :
rough the
was at on
rt of raggi
et long — til
T heavy loii
I for the mi
«ty rabbits,
ites of tliin
Now begai
t down in
en a rustli
irring; the

! the young ■Ur
ireiits came unc
and joyful " tlrr
of thu thruBhcH,
vood-pigcoii, auc

BUt'IUOd to COIDi

'0 blaukbirdti ea^
I thoir Mhort spa»
A

lan to retreat,
iiall basket, witli

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

«ndenta were the blrda and rabbita and squirrels
f t ; woodH and the heath ; and of thene Hlie
new all thu hauntH and habits, and tliuy were
ler companiunit in her lonely wanderin^i^. Look,
ur example, at thiH morning walk of liertt. 8liu
iHHtted throu^li Home dun^e Hhrubberloti — tiie
nee titted Th( ''"'•''''''''''^'* whooling away through the laurel
I circled over th( ''"''eH-until «he came to an open npace at the
(lgi> oi u wood where there wan a Hpacious dell.
Km'c the Hunlight I'cll in broad patches on a tun

A robin perched ^^''^ wiiderncsH of wild flowers — great muftscH of
iouslv and seem '"" ''y"''''"''w. "'"^ white Htarwort, and crimson
lan to retreat ampion, and purple ground-ivy. She utaid a nun-

te to gallier a small bouquet, which she placei
I her dresH ; but she did not pluck two snow-
iiitu and waxen hyacinths, for she had watclied
lieso strangers ever since she liad noticed that
le flowers promised to be white.

" HIiuuUl lie upbraid,
I'll own that he'll prevail,"

lie humnicil carelessly tu herself, as she went on

round of Willow|K«'" ; , ""•' ""«' ■*!'« «"« i" »■ sloping.glade, among
iiung larciies and beeches, with witliered bracu-
iis burning red in the scattered sunlight, wit',
le new brackens coming up in solitary stalks of
I'cen, their summits nut the tiddle-head of the
idiiuiry fern, but resembling rather the incurved
irce claws of a large bird. She paused for a

imiliar ; and now
ktter handfula ol
tudo of sparrows
spring into life,
perch. But sIk
tics were shared

lory between twc

On the north

ad plain of culti

and fair, dottei

and scoreil by tal

the other hand . e , . .1 • r . i- 1 ■

If heath and darll '*""^'"' ' *^'"' "'""« '•'« 1'"^'" '" '"'" "^ '"^'■. "'"^
i with fforsn nn( "'''■' ur.conscious of her presence, was a splendid
)ck pheasant, the bron/cd plumage of his breast
it*t catching a beam of the morning liglit. Then
L> stalked across the path, followed by his sober
)loreu \cn,and di.sappta""il into the ferns. Sli
ent on again. A S(|uirrel ran up a great beech
ee, and looked round at her from one of the

with gorse am
ip at the horizon
' road apparcntlj
no trace of town
d see.

:hat Sylvia BIythf
1 will never knov

lent ways. Thes
iistant line of lii
tion seldom caret
)ndon, of course
hotel in Arling
ra once or twici:
ises

ITcring world —
3 unknown land

know somethin' '«"'^^'>'-'*- ^ M ^^^} screaming through the wooii

Just one brief glimpse of brilliant blue being
sible. Then she came to a belt of oak paling,

which was a veiy dilapidated door; and by the
)or stood a basket much larger than that she
id carried frotn the Hall. She took up the bas-
;t, let herself out by the small gate, and then

But of till '""'' '""'**'''* '" '■''^' "P^'" sunshine before a wide
■aste of heath.
This was Willowbv Heath — a vast stretch of

des driven dowi "''•" K'?"'"' I'overed by dark heather mostly,

It showing here and there brilliant masses of
rse and broom, and here and there a srauU
rch-tree not over four feet in height, but gleam-

wine acquainto *? *'»'' " f^'""'""" of green over the dark com-
' Bon. A couple of miles away, on a knoll, stood

windmill, its great arms motionless. Beyond
at again the heath darkened ns it rose to the
rizon, and ended in a black line of firs.
She hummed as she went this idle song ; and
mctimes she laughed, for the place seemed to
alive with very young rabbits, and those inex-
rienced babes showed an agony of fear as they
d r'most from ander her feet, and scurried
rough the dry heather to the sandy breaks,
was at one of the largest of these breaks — a
rt of ragged pit some six feet deep and fifty
ct long — tliat she finally paused, and put down
r heavy load. Her approach had been the sig-
il for the magical disappearance of about fifty or
«ty rabbits, the large majority being the merest
ites of things.

Now began a strange incantation scene. She
t down in the perfect stillness ; there was not
en a rustle of her dress. There was no wind
irring ; the white clouds in the pale blue over-

the s(|ualid den
ittle and ttushe
Its of life — wha
!Coine acquaiiite(
little picturesqiK
pity and tender
and tracts,
mentation of tin
low ledge of a bi
d been denied t(
ring that she con
ition of the kind

"I won't hav
ver or somcthiii]
ople of our owi
vay ; if there arc

As for sick chil
sewhere, you cai
lenty who can-
)rget that. Am
th or Dr. Grey al
lese hovels, I cai

T friends and d(

bead hung motionless; the only sound «udiblo
was the calling of a peewit far away over tho
heath.

She \Nalted patiently in this deep silence. All
round and underneath this broken bank, in a
transparent shadow, were a number of dark
holes of various sizes. These were the apertures
for the gnomes to appear from the bowels of tliu
earth, And as she waited, behold ! one of those
small (uveriis became tenanted. A tiny head
suddenly ai)pcared, and two black eyes regarded
her with a sort of blank, dumli curiosity, without
fear. She did not move. Tho brown small
creature came out further; ho sat <lown, like ,t
little ball, on the edge of the sandy slope; liu
was just far enough out for the sunlight to catch
the tips of his lung cars, which thereupon shone
transparent, a pinky gray. Her eyes were caught
by another sudden awakening of life. At the
opposite side of the dell a head appeared, and
bobbed in again — that was an old mid experi-
enced rabbit; but immediately afterward one,
two, three small liodies cHiiie out to the edge and
sat there, a mute, watchful family, staring uiid be-
ing stared at. Then here, there, every v.liere,
head after head became visilile; a caiefi'.l look
round, a noiseless trot out to the edge of the hole,
a motionless seat there, not an ear or a tail stir-
ring. In tlie mysterious silence every eye was
fixed on hers ; she scarcely dmeil breathe, or
these pluiiitusmal inhabitants of the lower world
would suddenly vanish. But what was this
strange creature, unlike his fellows in ail but
their stealthy watchfulness and silent ways?
Hi! was black as midnight ; he was large and fat
and sleek ; he was the only one of the parents .
that dared to come out and make part of this
mystic picture.

"Satan!" she called; and she sprang to her
feet and gave one loud olap of her hands.

There was nothing but the dry sand bank, star-
ing with tliose empty holes. She laughed lightly to
herself at that instantaneous scurry ; and, having
ojieiied the basket, she scattered its contents —
chopped turnips — all round the place ; and then
set otf homeward. She arrived at the Hall in
time to have breakfast with her cousin, though
that young gentleman was discontentedly grum-
bling over the early houi-s they kept in his -un-
cle's house.

" Syllabus," said he, " are you going to stand
Champagne for lunch V"

"Champagne? — you foolish boy," said she;
" what do you want Champagne for ?"

" To celebrate my tleparture," said he. " You
know you'll be awfully glad to get rid of me. I
have worried your life out in tbiise three days.
Let's have some Champagne at luneb, to show
you don't bear raalicc. Won't ycu, dd Sylla-
bus ?"

" Champagne ?" said she. " Wine lb not good
for school-boys. Is it sixpence you want to buy
toffy with on the way to the station ?"

After breakfast she had her rounds of the
garden and greenhouses to make ; she visited
the kennels, and saw that the dogs had plenty of
water; she went to the lake to see that the
swans had their food ; she had a dumb conver-
sation with her pony that was grazing in the
meadow. How could the sweet day pass more
pleasantly ? The air was fresh and mild, the
skies blue, the sun warm on the buttercups of

GREEK PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

tho park — in fact, when fihe returned to the Ilall
iiho found timt lii'i- Hmnll l>ron/u 8hoeN and tht>
foot of litT drt'HN wuru ull duatud over witli ii ^'old
powder.

Hut tliix wtt!* not to !)(> an ordinary dny. Fir<>t
of ull hIic wum umitly tirn'Mt'd by tlio niVfiteriou:*
•disappcuranft' of Jolinuy Ulyllii', who, hIic wiim
afruiil, would misH hi^ train in (he ufternoon;
tiicn alio v/ixa delighted hy hlrt appouruneo in com-
pany with n visitor, wlio wuh easily perHuaded to
Btay to linich; then tliere wan a pretty (puirrel
over the production of that bottle of publie-liouHe
Chnnipa^ne — at wliieli tho ^irl turned, with a lit-
tle flush in her cheek, to lier visitor, whom shf
begjji'd to forj;ive till.'* piece of Hchool-hoyish fol-
ly. Then Mr. ilohn wii« bundled tdf in fhe wag-
onette to the station ; and slie and lier visitor
were left aloiu'.

What had Madame Mephistopheles to do with
this innocent ^irl V

"Oh, Lady Sylvia," she said, "how delij^htful-
ly quiet you are here! Each time I come, the
etillne.isi of the Hall and tlie jiark strikes me
more and more. It is a place to dream one's lilc
away in — ainoiif; the trees on the tine day-i, in the
library on the bad ones, I suppose you don't
wish ever to leave Willowby V"

"X — no," said the nirl, with a faint touch of
color in her face. And then jlie added, " Hut
don't you tliink that one 0M;.iit to try to iinder-
Btand what is (foin^ on o'ltsidt^ one's immediate
circle? One must bccoi;,L'so ijfiiorant, you know.
I have been reading tlio leading articles in the
Time.t latelv."

"Oh, indeed!"
•« " Yes ; but they only show me how very if!;no-
rant I must be, for I can scarcely lind one that 1
can understand. And 1 have been greatly di.sap-
pointed, too, with another thing. Have you seen
this book ?"

She went and fetched from an adjoining table
a volume, which she placed in her visitor's hands.
It was entitled The Heus of the Day on I'olity.

" There was a friend of papa's hern one even-
ing," said Lady Sylvia, demurely, " and we were
talking about the greatly different opinions in
politics that people lield, and I asked him how an
ignorant person like myself was to decide which
to believe. Then he said, 'Oh, if you want to
see all the pros and eons of the great political
'^uestion8 ranged opposite each other, take some,
such book as Uuxton's Iilecwo/the Day; then you
can compare them, and take which one strikes
you as being most reasonable.' Well, I sent for
the book; but look at it! It is all general prin-
ciples. It docs not tell mc any thing. I am sure
no one could have read more carefully than I did
the articles in the Times on the Irish Universi-
ties Bill. I have followed every thing that has
been said, and I am quite convinced by the argu-
ment ; but I can't make out what the real thing
is behind. And then I go to the book that was rec-
ommended to me. Look at it, my dear Mrs. .

All you can get is n series of propositions about
national education. How does that iielp you to
understand the Irish Universities ?"

Her visitor laughed and ptit down the book.
Then she placed her hand within the girl's arm,
and they went out for a stroll in the park, thrrugh
the long warm grass and golden buttercups and
blue speedwells.

" Why should you take such a new interest in

politics, Lady Sylria ?" said Madame McphistopI
eles, lightly."

" I want to take nn interest in what concern
so many of my fellow-creatures," saiii the gir

simply. "Is not that natural y And if I were rpot; wh
nutn," she added, with Home heightened color, "
should care for iu>tliing but politics. Think <i
the good one might do — tliink f the power on
might have ! That would be worth living for, thii
woidd be worth giving one's life fo|; — to be abl
to euro some of the ndsery of the world, an
make wise laws, and make one's country respeci
ed among other nations. Do you know, I can nu
understand how nu>n can pass their lives in pain
ing pretty pictures and writing pretty verses, whe
there is all that real work to be done — millions
their fellow-creatures growing up in ignorance an
misery — the poor bec(uniiig poorer every diiy, uiit
no one knows where the wreiehedness is ti^'cease
These were hue notions to have got into ti
head of an ingeiuious eoimtry maiden; and pc
haps that retiection occurred to herself loo, fi
she suddenly stopped, and her face was red. Hi
her kiml friend took no notice of this retirin

It there w

e small Ij

prevent

ten FrencI

uttered al
isteiice ill
es, slippei
ere Hnishc
I the table
" You wi
,"and ha
" Yes, Sii
ted, 'Ht
n below
tie e.\citei
" Very w
Take my
rs you hai
il'.i rose I
to thin lili
nv one Ilia
iiiiisei'oi
lit he WHS

modesty. On the contiitry, she warin'y approve id niiieli i
of her companioirs ways of thinking. Knglaii lee. The
was proud of her statesmen. The gratitude u d not at a

millions was the rcwanf of liii:' who devised wi;
statutes. What nobler vocation in life could the
be f<n' a man than philiintlii(i|.v cxalti.! to tli
raidi of a science V Hut iit the siiiie lime —

Ah ! yes, at the same time a Miiiiig girl mii
not fancy that all politicians were patriots, Soin
limes it was the meaner ambitions eoniiictiid wi'
self that were the oceasion of great piilihc ser
ice. We oiiiiht not to be disappointed on disco
Cling that our hero had sonie earthly alloy in h
compo.<itioii.

Inileed, continued this Mephistopheles, the lere was

ray eyes in
ho knew I
vehement
cak throii
nsidered
On tills (
1 the pre)
)nsiuered

was always a danger of allowing our iinaginati

conceptions of people to run too far. Young pi'

sons, more especially, who had but little practie

experience of life, were often disappointed becau

they expected too much. liiinian nature was on

human nature. Lady Sylvia now, for exainpl

had doubtless never tliought about nnirriage; b

did she not know how numy persons were gric

ously disii])pointed merely because they had beilie large to

too generously imaginative before marriage V noise of

" Hut how can any one marry without absolii sred, tliesi
admiration and absolute cimlidcnce ?" demand iglitly, wei
the girl, with some pride, but with her eyes ca lid, "(Jent
down

And there was no one there to interpose ai liite waist
cry, " Oh, woman, woman, eoine away, and let t liiskey, or
child dream her dream ! If it is all a mistake— |
it has to be repented for in hot tears and with

s check ei
elirows g
iivwil and
iit gave I'
111, of per;
iiir had till
e Scotch—
[ his birti
en overlai
iitleness—
leech of ai

aching heai-t — if it lasts for but a year, a mont cry sorry.

a day — leave her with this beautiful faith in lo
and life and heroism which may soon enough
taken away from lier.

CHAPTER III

THE MEMDKR FOIl nAI.I.INASCROON.

In the first-floor room of a small house in Pie
dilly a young man of six-and-twenty or so was hiAritating ai
ly writing letters. By rights the room should ha lie soul of
been a drawing-room — and a woman might hn " Sorr," i
made of it a very pretty drawing-room indeed raisteoat, '

les by my
I know.

business,
Thus ailii
r ten per-
le speeeli
iut how CO
uck parlor
ntieipated
illing fron
xford Uiii
retty fair

iilanie McphiHtopl
in wlint concern

It tliero were no flowers or truilinR crcupiTB in

ttiiiuil liuicony ; tlicre wcru no iiu'o I'lirtulim

|irt<vi'iit tlie NiiiiilKlit xtreiiinin^ tlirouKli tliu

rvH," Hiiiil tlio gir|)i>n Fronoli wiiulow.s I'lili on liiu worn iinil fadud

Anil if 1 wcro

inlit«'nc(i color, "
|M)litic!4. Think <

f I ho power on
ortii living for, thii
itc I'oj — to l)c ahl
of tliu world, an
'h country rcspcr
nil Unow, I cull nu
tiii'ir lives in pain
pretty vcrscH, who
i> iloui' — inillionx i

ill i);noniiii't>uii
)n'rcvcry liny, lint
cilncsH is tif'cca.sc.
Iiiivc ff>t into til
iiiiiidcii; and pt
to lii>rsi>lf too, fii
fiu'c wiis red, ii
cc of tiiis rctiiiii

URKEN I'AHTUHES AND IMCCADILLY.

I' wiiriii'y iipprovi'

liinliin^, Knglai

Till' >;iiilitiiiio

;> wlio ili'virtcd wi: s clii'ci* iMid ciiiii , mid llif s'iii;.'jiy diMl< Inown
I'lii'ows pivc simdmv mul iiiii'iisity to tlio
iivwd iiiiil iiii'ri'iii;.' jiiny cyi'S. Il «iiH u fiicu
lilt (iiivc fvidi'iii'c of lii'cii ii'sitlvc, of iviidy ac-
iii, of pci'sisiriu'c. And iilllioii;;li yoiin<; liul-
iiir liiid till- piitiiMit and steady drtui'iiiiiiation of

n inlil'i'coiild the
(tpv exalt.-,! to tl
le !<'iiiii' lime —
a Miiiii)? K'i'l <)">
I'lv patriots. Sum
oils coniK'Cted wil
' t;i'o!it piililic Her '. iiis liirtlirip;lit, iiiid aiiiiiiii;;li evm that hud

)poiiiteil on disco
eai'tlily alloy in li

phistoplielcs, tlic
mti onr iiiia<{iiiuti<

00 far. Yonnn pc

1 liiit little practio

inn iiutiii'c wuH on
now, for exiiinpr

pet; while this half sliiily, half parlor, hud
uttered ulioiit ill il uii tlic si|;iis of a liui'lielor'.s
istt'iico ill till! sliiipe of wooden pipes, tiiiie-ta-
e.a, slipper!), and ilie like, Wlieii tliu letters
I'i'e hnislicd the writer struck a bell bcforu liiiii
the liilde. ^ ills sei'vunt iippeared,
"You will piwi tlioho letters, Jackson," said
,"unil have u liunsoin rcudy for iiic ut li.lO."
" Yes, Sir," suid the nuin ; and tlicn he liesl-
teil. 'He); your pardon, Sir. Iiiit tlie gentle-
en licUiw are rullier iiiiputieiit. Sir — they uro u
lie excited. Sir."

" Very well," said the youn^ man, carelessly.
Tuko iiiy hiin down. Sluy, here uro some pu-
is you hud lii'lti'i' put in."
Iji.i rose and wi'iit lo net the papers — one or
o thill liliii'-liiiiiks and siiiiii' drafted liills — and
iw one iiiiiy p't ii lietter lonU iit llic .Meiiiher for
uHiiiiisri'iMHi. Ill' was nut over live I'eel ri>;lil;
It he was a Ihiiiv, liriii-fi'iiiiii'd yoiin^ man, wlio
III iiiiieli inori' I'hiinu'ter tliiii pii/ttiness in his
ice. Tile I'losi'ly croppi'd lieuid and whiskers
lilt at all eoiiri'iil the lines iif streii);tli alioiit

' Sniteh — or, let ii> say, nf tlii! Saxmi — ha |)art

en overlaid liy lie reticence of inaniUT iind tliu
iitleiiess — the almost hesitating gentleness — of
leccli of an Oxford don, any one could see that
leru wa8 something; Celtic- looking about the
ray eyea and the heavy cyebiows, and cveiy one
ho knew- Kall'oiir knew that sometimes a Hash
vehement eiitlnisiasni, or anger, or i=ciiin, would
isiipiiointcd Itccuii^euk through that siiuvity of manner which some
iisidered to be just a trifle tno Hiipercilions.
(hi tliit) oceusion Hugh Uuli'our, having inailo
liont niurriuge; ii I the prcparuliiiiis for his departure wiiicli he
persons were gric insidered to lie necessury, went down Rtuirs to
uiise they hud l»ei le large room on the ground-door. There was
foie marriage y noise of voices in that apartment. As he en-
ry without ttlisolii ircd, these angry sounds ceased; ho bowed
idcnce ?" demand iglitly, went up to the head of the room, and
with her eyes ca|iiil, " Oentl.'ini'ii, will you he sented V"

"SoiT," suid a smull nuiii, witii a large chwit, a

c to interpose a liite wai.stcoiit, and a face pink w itli anger or

hiskey, or both — "Sorr, 'tis twenty-three min-

tcs by my watch ye have kept us waiting — "

" I know," .said the young man, calmly ; " I am

Dry sorry. Will yon be good enough to proceed

I business, gentlemen V"

Thus admonished, the spokesman of the eight

I' ten persons in the room uiidns, ed liiin.-elf to

le speech wliieli he had obviously prepared.

ut how could lie, in the idyllic seclusion of the

uck parlor of a llallinascroon public-house, have

nticipateil and prepared for the interruptions

tiling from a young man who, whether at the

xford Union or at St. Stephen's, had acipiired a

retty fair reputation for saying about the most

ritating and contemptuous things that could vex

le soul of an opponent ?

"Sorr," said the orator, swelling out his white

le away, and let t
is all a mistake—
it teurs and with
lut a year, a mont
autitiil faith in In
iiuy soon enough

[II.

I.INASCROON.

mall house in Plci
venty or so was bii
le room should ha
woman might hn
wing-room uidced waistcoat, " the gentlemen" (he said giutlemcn,

hut never mind) — " the gentlemen who arc with
me this day are a deputation, a deputation, Sorr
of the electors of the borough oi H.illinuscioon,
which you have the honor, .Sorr, lo represent in
I'urliamcnl. We held a incctiiig, Sorr, as yoii
know. You were invited to attend that meeting.
Yon refiisi'd to attend that iiiei'liiig — although it
wus culled to consider your eoiidiiet us the re|)re-
scntutive of the Imroiigli of Ualliiiusi'iooii."
I Mr. Hulfoiir nodded; this young man did not
seem to be iiiueli iiiipiesscd by ilie desperate iia>
I tiirc of the situation.

' " .Villi now, Sorr," continued the orator, group-
ing his eoiiipiiiiioiis together with a wine of his
hand, " we have come as a de|iutution .o lay bo-
1 fore you certain farts nliiili your .inistitiieiits,
Sorr, hope will induce mhi to In'-e tliit eoiirse—
the only emiise, I may say — that 'iii hoiioiubltt
man could fuilnw."
[ " Very well."

"Sorr, you are aware that yon succeeded the
llonoruble Oliver <ilyiiiie in tlic representation of
the borough of Halliiiascioon. You are aw are,
Sorr, that when .Mr. (ilyiine eoiite.-ted llie bor-
oiigli, he siiiMit no less lliun .t'lii,«iiu in the elec-
tion — "

" I iiiii ipiite uwiiie of these facts," interiiiplcil
Halfoiir, .--peaKiiiu slowly and clearly. "I am
ipiite aware tlmi Mr. Illynne kept iLe v. hole con-
stituency dniiik lor three moiitlis. 1 am ipiite
awari! lliat lie spent all that iiioiiiy, fur 1 lioii't
believe there was a man of ymi i ;niie out of tho
election with cleiiii liaiids. Welly"

The orator was rather liisconceited, and gasp-
ed a little; but a iiiurmur of iinliuiiaiit icpiidla-
tlon from his cumpuiiions nerved him to a i'urlher
effort.

I . " Sorr, it ill liecomes you to bring such charges
I against the borough that bus | luceil you in I'lir-
liumcnt, uiid against the man ivho gave you his
seat. Mr. (Ilyniic was a gentleiiiiin, Sorr; ho
spent his money like a geiitleiiiaii ; and when ho
was unseated" (he siiid onsateil, but no matter),
"it was from no regard fui you, Smr, but from
our regard for liiiii fluil we retiiiiii'd urn to Par-
liumeiit, and have allowed you to .'^il tiicie, Sorr,
until ."iich times as a (leneiiil Klection will enablo
us to send the iiiiiii of our true clioicc to repre-
sent us at St. Stcplieii's."

There was a loud miiininr of approval.
"1 beg your p.iidon." said Halloiir. "I must
correct you on otic point. You ilon't allow mo
to sit in I'arliameiit. I sit tlieie of my own
choice. You would turn inc out if you could to-
morrow ; but you see you can't."

" I consider, Sorr, that in that slmmcless avow-
al—"

Here there wu.s a flush of light in those gray

eyes; but the inili.'^erei't orator did not observe it.

" — You have justiticd the action «e have taken

in calling on a public meeting to denounce your

conduct as the representative of Ballinascroon.

Sorr, you are not the representative of liallinu-

] sci'oon. 1 will make bold to say that you are

' sitting in the lionoialile House of Commons un-

I der false pretenses. You neglect our interests.

I You treat our commuiiications, our remonstrances,

I with an insulting indifference. The cry of our

' fellow-countrymen in |)rison — |)olitical prisoners

I in a free country, Sorr — is nothing to you. You

allow our tishcrics to dwindle and disappear for

i wuut of that help wliicU you give freely enough

1«

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

to yotir own country, Sorr. And on the great
Question that is maliin;; the pulse uf Ireland beat
as it lias never beaten before, that is making her
sons and her daughters curse the slavery that
binds them in chains of iron, Sorr, you have treat-
ed us with ridicule and scorn. When Mr. O'Hyrne
called upon you at the Reform Club, Sorr, you
walked past him, and told the menial in livery to
iuforni him that you were not in the club. Is
that the conduct of a member of the honorable
House of Commons, Sorr? Is it the conduct of
a gentleman?"

Here arose another murmur of approval. Bal-
four looked at his w.jtch.

"Gentlemen," said he, "I am sorry I must
leave you at 3.15; my train goes at 3.30 from
Paddington. Do I understand you that that is
ail you have to say ?"

Here there were loud cries of " No ! no ! Re-
sign ! resign !"

" — Because I don't think it was worth your
while to come all the way to London to say it.
I read it every week in the columns of that de-
lightful print, the BalUnasa-ooti Sentinel. How-
ever, you have been very outspoken, and I shall
be ecjually frank. You can't have all the frank-
ness on your .side, you know. Let me say, then,
that I don't care a brass farthing wh;U any meet-
ing in Ballinascroon thinks, or what the whole
of the three hundred and eighty electors think
about me. I consider it a di.sgrace to the Brit-
ish constilution that such a rotten and corrupt
constituency .should exist. Three hundred and
eighty electors — a population of less than live
thousand — and a man spends close on £11,000
in contesting the place ! Disfranchisemeat is
too good for such a hole; it should be burned
out of the political map. And so you took me'
as a Btop-gap. T'.iat was how you showed your
gratitude to Mr. Glynne, who was a young man,
and a foolish young man, aiid allowed himself to
be led by your precious electoral agents. Of
course I was to give up the seat to him at the
next General Election. Very well; I have no
objection to that : that is a matter between him
and me ; though I fancy you'll find him just as
resolved as myself not to swallow your Hoine
Rule bolus. But, as between you and nie, the
case is different. You wished to make use of
Die; I have made use of you. I have got into
the House ; 1 have learned something of its ways ;
I have served so far a short apprenticeship. But
do you think that I am going to give up my time
and my convictions to your wretched projects?
Do you think I would bolster up your industries,
that are dwindling only through laziness? Do
you think I am going to try to get every man of
you a post or a pension ? Gracious heavens ! I
dcn't believe there is a man-child born in the
town but you begin to wonder what the govern-
ment will do for him. The very stones of West-
minster Hall are saturated with Irish brogue;
the air is thick with your clamor for place. No,
no, thank you ; don't imagine I am going to dip
my hands into that dirty water. You can turn
me out at the end of this Parliament — I should
have resigned my seat in any case — but until
that time I am Hugh Balfour, and not at all your
very obedient servant."

For the moment his Celtic pulse had got the
better of his Saxon brain. The deputation had
not at all been prepared for this scornful out-

burst; they had expected to enjoy a monopoi
of scolding. Ordinarily, indeed, Hugh Balfoii
was an extremely reticent man ; some said li
was too proud to bother himself into a passi>'
about any thing or any body.

" Sorr," said the pink-faced orator, with a d
gpairing hesitation in his voice, "after the laii
guage — after the language, Sorr, wiiich we hav
just heard, my friends and myself have but oni
course to piu'sue. I am astonished — I am ai
tounded, Sorr — that, holding such opinions of tin
borough of Ballinascroon as those you have no
expressed, you should continue to represent tha
borough in Parliament

"I beg your pardon," said Balfour, with hi
ordinary coolness, and taking out his watch, "i
I must interrupt you again. I have but thrc
minutes left. Is there any thing definite tha
you wish to say to me?"

Once more there was a murmuring chorus ( iptions wit
" Resign ! resign !" lave knowi

I don't at all mean to resign," said Balfou ter after

it, or a doi
•se from tl
live?"

calmly

"Sorr, it is inconceivable," began the spokei
man of the iiarty, "that a gentleman should s
in Parliament to represent a constituency of whic
he has such opinions as tll0i^e that have falk
from you this day."

" I beg your pardon ; it is not at all incoucci
able; it is the fact. What is more, I mean t
represent 3'our precious borough until the end c
the present Parliament. You will be glad
hear that that end may be somewhat nearer thn
many people imagine; and again the bother come ' a penny-
from your side of the water. Since the goveri neas out o
ment were beaten on their Irish Universities Bi
they have been in a bad way ; there is no doul:
of it. Some folks s.ay there will be a dissolutio
in the autumn. So, you see, there is no sayin
how soon you may get rid of me.
will you return Mr. Glynne ?"

Again there was a murmur, but scarcely an ii
telligible one.

" I thought not. I fancied your gratitude fo •'^e, I belk
the £11,000 would not last as' long. Well, yo
must try to find a Home Rule candidate who wi
keep the town drunk for three months at
stretch. Meantime, gentlemen, I am afraid
must bid you good-morning."

He rang the bell.

"Cab there, Jackson?"

"Yes, Sir."

" Good-morning, gentlemen."

With that the deputation from Ballinnscroo
were left to take their departure at their ow i'* whirled
convenience, their representative in Parliameii "i; althou
driving off in a hansom to Paddington Station

He had scarcely driven away from the doo
when his thoughts were occupied by much mor
important affairs. He was a busy man. Th
deputation could lie by as a joke

Arrived at the station, Balfour jumped oul ^;>,*'J|1 ^^1
bag in hand, and gave the cabman cighteer
pence.

" What's this. Sir?" the man called out, affcc as it c\m
ing to stare at the two coins. ■} to see ."i

uld act ai

lich Balfou

" Don't be

walked of

e had a <

ing taken

m to get I

old collegi

'Balfour,'

ember th

imbridge, tl

' And you (

)3 or other

"Well, he

rs are at

at to do.

her. I w

'Oh," said

hke the n(

'Three, Mi
' Take you
3o these t
e went ba
t his wife c
' Did you (
!s of these
Balfour—

id is dyiuj
stories I
r or two.
ftnc on the

In that caa ^i'lg polif"
'sts have
sherry, wh
hasn't a i

I down in
thirty thoi
)rougliam.
•onxvi rich
;an with pi
ii'ite unco
tthful aiii
ply immer
had taken
of the bea

igbourne ;
even by a
the Oxfor(
middle-ag
ctacles. 1

Balfour turned.

" Oh,' said he, innocently, " have I made a mii
take? Let me see. You had better give ni
back the sixpence."

Still more innocently the cabman — never doubi • Balfour,
ing but that a gentleman who lived in Ficcadill

n time to d

'All right.

t."

le went to

Pic

enjoy a monopol
icd, Hugh Balfoii
an ; some said Ii
self into a passi<

orator, with a d
ce, " after the lau
)rr, wliich we hav
ysclf have but oni
oniHlicd — I am ai
iicli opinions of tin
liose you have no
e to represent tlia

Balfour, with hi
out his watch, "i

I liave but tlire
thins definite tha

GREEN PASTijRES AND PICCADILLY.

uld act as such — handed liim the sixpence,
lich Balfour put, in his pocket.
" Don't be such a fool next time," said he, as
walked off to get his ticket,
e had a couple of minutes to spare, and after
ing taken hU seat, he walked across the plat-
m to get an evening paper. He was met by
old college companion of his.
' Balfour," said he, " I wanted to see you. You
ember that tall waiter at the Oxford and
imbridge, the one who got ill, had to give up — "
' And you got him into some green-grocery busi-
)3 or other. Yes."

" Well, he is desperately ill now, and his af-
rs are at the worst. His wife doesn't know
at to do. I am getting up a little subscription
her. I want a couple of guineas from you."
" Oh," said Balfour, somewhat coldly, " I rather
like the notion of giving money to these sub-

irmuring chorus ( iptions without knowing something of the case,
lave known so many dying people get rapidly

i^n " said Balfou ter after they got a pension from the Civil
it, or a donation from the Literary Fund, or a
•se from their friends. Where does the worn-
live?"

began the spokci
lUloinan should s
nstitucncy of whic
■Q that have falk

but scarcely an ii

9 long. Well, yo
candidate who wi
hree mouths at
in, I am afraid

from Ballinnscroo

Idington Station
'ay from the doo
•led by much mot
I busy man. Th
ke

1 called

' Tiiree, Marquis Street, Lambeth."
' Take your seats, please."
3o these two parted, and Balfour's acquaint-
e went back to the carriage, in which he had
t his wife and her sisters, and to these he said,
' Did you ever know any thing like the mcan-
is of these Scotch V I have just met tliat fel-
Balfour — he has thirty thousand a year if he
a penny — and I couldn't screw a couple of

ot at all incouoei
is more, I mean t
i^h until the end c
u will be glad
lewhat nearer thn
in tlie bother come

Since the goveri neas out of him for a poor woman whose lius-
i\i Universities Bi
; there is no doul:
ill be a dissolutio
there is no savin
me

quis Street, Lambeth; make inquiries if woman
in great distress. Give ten |>!>undB. Make strict
inquiries."

" Now, Jewsbury, I am with you. I hope there
are no men coming to your rooms to-night; I
want to have a long talk with you about this Ju-
dicature business. Yes, and about something
more important eveti than that."

The Rev. Mr. Jewsbury looked up.

"The fact is," said the young man, with a
smile, " I have been thinking of getting married."

id is dying. Fancy! Now I can believe all

stories 1 have heard of him within ilio last

r or two. Ho asks men to dinner; liasCham-

;ne on the sideboard ; pretends he is so busy

In that cas( ^''ig politics that he forgets all about it ; hi.s

sts have to content tlienisclves with a glass
sherry, while he has a little claret and water.

hasn't a cigar in the house. He keeps one

your gratitude fol'-'^e, I believe — an old cob — for pounding up

i down in Hyde Park of a morning ; but on

thirty thousand a year he can't afford himself
)roiigliam. No wonder those Scotch fellows
ome rich men. I have no doubt his father
;an with picking up pins in the street."
ii'ite unconscious of having provoked all this
ithful animadversion, Balfour was already
ply immersed in certain Local Taxation Bills
had taken out of his bag. Very little did he

of the beautiful landscapes through which the
•ture at their ow i" whirled on that bright and glowing after-
;ive in Parliameii "i i although, of course, he had a glance at
igbourne ; that was something not to be miss-
even by a young and enthusiastic politician,
the Oxford Station he was met by a thin, lit-

middle-agcd man, with a big head and blue
ctacles. This was the Rev. Henry Jewsbury,

I four jumped oul ^-^^f-^^ ^®1'P"^ "^ Exeter.^^
cabman cighteei

' Well, Balfour, my boy," called out this cler-
(lan, in a rich and jovial voice, which startled
out, affcc ^^ i^ c.\me from that shrunken body, " I am
% 1 to see ,'ou. How late you are ! You'll just
n time to dine in hall : I will lend you a gown."
'All right. But I must send off a telegram

have I made a mii
id better give ni

le went to the office. This was the telegram :
man — never doubi • Balfour, Exeter College, Oxford, to E. Jack-
lived in f iccadillli Piccadilly, London : Go to three Mar-

CHAPTER IV.

ALHA HATER.

Tt was a singular change for this busy, hard-
headed man to leave the whiil of LoTidon life —
with its late nights at the Hoiise, its conversa-
tional breakfasts, its Wednesday and Saturday
dinner parties and official receptions, and so
forth — to spend a quiet Sunday with his old
friends of Exeter. The very room in which he
now sat, waiting for Mr. Jew.sbury to hunt him
out a gown, had once been his own. It over-
looked the Fellows' Garden — that sacred haunt
of peace and twilight and green leaves. Once
upon a time, and that not very long ago, it was
pretty well known that Balfour of Exeter might
have had a fellowship presented to him had he
not happened to be too rich a man. No one, of
course, could have imagined for a moment this
ai?ibitious, eager, active young fellow suddenly
giving up his wealth, and his chances of marry-
ing, and his political prospects, in order that ho
might lead a quiet student life within the shadow
of these gray walls. Nevertheless, that dream
had crossed his mind nioreth.in once: most com-
monly when he had got home from the House
about two in the morning, tirod out, vexed with
the failure of some pet piojcct, unnerved by the
apathy of the time, the government he supported
being merely a government of sufferance, hold-
ing office only because the rival party was too
weak to relieve it from the burden.

And indeed there was .something of the home-
returni.ig feelins! in his mind as he now slipped
on the academical gown and hurried across to
the great yellow-white hall, in which the under-
graduates were already busy with their modest
l)eef and ale. There were unknown faces, it is
true, ranged by tlio long tables; but up here on
the cross table, on the platform, he was among
old friends; and there were old friends, too,
looking over at him from the dusty frames on
the walls. He was something of a lion now.
He had been a marked man at Oxfnrd ; for al-
though he had never made the gallery of the
Union tremble with resonant eloquence (he was,
in foct. any thing but a fluent speaker), he had
abundant self-possession, and a tolerably keen
instinct of detecting the weak points in his op-
ponent's line of argument. Besides — and this
goes for something — there was an impress of
power in the mere appearance of the man, in his
square forehead, his firm lips, and deep -set,
keen gray eyes. He had an iron frame, too —
lean, bony, capable of enduring any fatigue. Of
course the destination of such a man was poli-
tics. Could any one imagine him letting his life
slip away from him in these quiet halls, mum-

GREEN PASTURES AND FICCADILLT.

blliig out a lecture to a dozen ignorant young
men in the morning, pacing up and down Addi-
son's Walic in tlie afternoon, and glad to see the
twiliglit come over as he sat in the common-room
of au evening, with claret and cherries, and a
cool wind blowing in from tlie Fellows' Garden V

It was to this quiet little low-roofed common-
room they now adjourned when diimer in hall
was over, and the uuder-graduates had gone noise-
lessly off, lilce so many rabbits to their respect-
ive burrows. There were not more than a dozen
round the polished mahogany table. The can-
dles were not lit; there was still a pale light
shining over the still garden outside, its beautiful
green foliage inclosed on one side by the ivied
wall of the Bodleian, and just giving one a
glimpse of the Radcliffe dome beyond. It was
fresh and cool and sweet in here ; it was a time
for wine and fruit ; there were no raised voices
in the talk, for there was scarcely a whisper
among the leaves of the laburnums outside, and
the great acacia spread its feathery branches into
a cloudless and lambent sky.

" Well, Mr. Balfour," said an amiable old gen-
tleman, " and what do the government mean to
do with us now ?"

" I should think, Sir," said Mr. Balfour, mod-
estly, " that if the government had their wiAih,
they would like to be drinking wine with you at
this moment. It would be charitable to ask them
to spend an evening like this with you. They
Lave had sore times of it uf lute ; and their un-
popularity is growing greater every day — why, I
don't know. I suppose they have been too mueli
in earnest. The Eiifilisli public likes a joke now
and again in the conduct of its alfuirs. No En-
glish cabinet should be made up without its buf-
foon — unless, indeed, tiie Prime Minister can as-
sume the pint oc'fiision ally. Insincerity, imperti-
nence, niahidministratiun — any thing will be for-
given you if you eiin make the House laugh. On
the other hand, if you happen to be a very ear-
nest pel son, if you are foolish enough to believe
that there are greiit wrongs to be righted, and if
you worry and bother the country with your sin-
cerity, the country will take the first chance — no
matter what services you have rendered it — of
kicking you out of ofliee. It is natural enough.
No one likes to be b(/tliered by serious people.
As we are all quite content, why should we be
badgere<l with new projects ? May I ask you to
hand me those strawberries ?"

The old gentleman was rather mystified ; but
Mr. Jewsbuiy was not — he was listening with a
demure smile.

"They tell me, Mr Balfour," said the old gen-
tleman, " that if there should be a General Elec-
tion, your seat may be in danger."

" dh, 1 shall be turned out, I know," said Bal-
four, with much complacency. " My constituents
don't lose many opportunities of letting me know
that. They burned me in effigy the otiier night.
I have had letters warning me that I had better
give Ballinascroon a wide berth if I happened to
be in that part of Ireland. But I dare say I shall
get in for some other place ; I might say that, ac-
cording to modern notions, the money left me by
my father entitles me to a seat. You know how
things go together. If you open a system of
drainage works, you become a knight. If you
give a big dinner to a foreign prince, you become
H baronet. If you could only buy Arundel Ca8<

tie, you would be an earl. And as I see all roun

me in Parliament men who have no possible clau penny. ^
to be there except the possession of a big foi '
tune — men who go into Parliament not to help i
governing the country at all, but merely to acquir
a social distinction to which their money entitle

them — I suppose I have that right too. Unfoi VVhen yo
tunately I have not a local habitation and a nam irn the i
any where. I must begin and cultivate som urself thi
place — buy a brewery, or something like thai le world
Regattas are good things : you can spend a goo^niselves.
deal of money safely on regattas — "

" Balfour," cried Jewsbury, with a laugh, " don'
go on talking like that."

em this

chance o
safely, I
" Always
ey were

"I tell you," said the young man, seriouslj wsbury's

" there was not half as much mischief done b artment,

the old pocket-borough system as there is by thi t still ol

money qualification. For my part, I am Toi sakness ii

enough to prefer the old pocket-borough^systen d loungir

with all its abuses. The patrons were meiTof goo pes and a

birth, who had therefore leisure to attend to put :)le. "
lie affairs — in fact, they had the tradition tha
they were responsible for the proper goverinnei
of the country. They had some measure of eUi

y of you
There wo
two fri

Mr.
"Now,"s
airs, and
moment t

cation, experience of other countries, on acquaiii I ; and I

ance with the political experiments of form(

times, and so forth. So long as they could pr

sent to a living — to a seat in the House, I mea

— a young fellow of ability had a chance, thou

he had not a penny in his pocket. What cham

has he now V Is it for the benefit of the counti

that men like and should be runniii

about from one constituency to another, gettiii

beaten every time, while such brainless and voit k at her

less nonentities as and are carried ti i could oi

lin in his
Who
u see, it m
if I can 1

umphantly into Parliament on the shoulders of

crowd of |)ublicans ? What is the result? Y«

are degrading Parliament in public estimatio

The average member has become a by-word. Tl

men who by education and experience are be rantageou

fitted to look after the government of a natic in he is

are becoming less and less anxious to deraci

themselves by courting the suffrages of a mo

while the li-less men who are getting into Pari

ment on the strength of their having grown rii

are bringing the House of Commons down to tl t is to be
level of a vestry. Might I trouble you for tho t he coul
strawberries?" iKl be of

The old gentleman had quite forgotten ab'o ly Sylvia
the strawberries. Fe had been listening intent tain peop
to this scornful protest When Balfour spo
earnestly — whether advancing a mere paradox
not — there was a certain glow in the deep-si' Balfour
e3-es that exercised a singular fascination ov i. You
some people. It -held them. They had to list< the last

f gigantK
oimes a I
nt to kno
ition. W
The youni
he leaned
lit in his i
" Jewsbur

me; it is
e connec
■ds. To

■ickv,

erable mi
'I am n(
nly. " I

whether they went away convinced or no.

" What an extraordinary fellow you are, B
four!" said his friend to him, as they were
their way from the common-room to Mr. JeA.his quest
bury's easy-chairs and tobacco. " Here you ha r about ?
been inveighing against the money qualificat
of Members of Parliament, and you yourself p
pose to get into the House simply on the strenj ; a good f(
of your money."

"Why not?" said the young man
constituents are satisfied, so am I. If that
their theory, I accept it. You called me no
of names because I took the seat those people

Ballinascroon offered me. I was reaping the h ttle more

vest sown by bribery and I don't know wli take wha

But that was their business, not mine. I met ry, she

made use of them, u I told a deputation fr y, it is

lis conip
impatici

herself—
ay tell yo
! a good f (
IS V— that
"If fl is friend
She has
Not open
I ; and tl

as I see all roun

e no possible claii penny. What I might have given, if there was

siun of a big foi
nent not to help i
it merely to acquit
leir money entitle
right too. Unfo
itation and a nan

as—'
fithalaugh/'don'

ng man, seriousi
1 mischief done b
1 as there is by th

the tradition th
proper governineii
nc measure of edi
mtries, an acquaiu

GREEN PATTURES AND PICCADILLY.

em this very forenoon. I have not given them

chance of my getting in again, and I could do
safely, I don't know."

Always the same !" exclaimed his friend, as
ey were going up the narrow wooden stairs.
ivhen you are a little older, Balfour, you will
irn the imprudence of always attributing to
nd cultivate soni urself the meanest motives for your conduct,
nething like thai ic world takes men at their own valuation of
can spend a goo emselves. How would you like other people to
y of you what you say yourself ?"
There was no answer to this remark, for now
c two friends had entered the larger of Mr.
wsbury's two rooms — a sufficiently spacious
artment, decorated in the severe modern style,
t still ofTering some compromise to human
r part, I am Tor sakness in the presence of several low, long,
et-borough systen d lounging easy-chairs. Moreover, tliere were
IS were meiTof goo :)e3 and a stone canister of tobacco on a small
e to attend to pul ile. Mr. Jewsbury lit a couple of candles.

" Now," said he, dropping into one of the easy-
airs, and taking up a pipe, " I won't listen for
moment to your Judicature Bill, or any other
and I won't bore you for a moment with
riments of formfly gigantid scheme for reforming the college

as they could pr
the House, I mea
id a chance, thoug
:ket. What chanc
inefit of the countt
should be runniii
to another, gettiii

suffrages of a mo
I getting into Parli

)mmon8 down to tl
rouble you for tho

/'Miues and endowing scientific research. I

lit to know more about wliat you said at the

ition. WiioisitV"

The young man almost started up in his chair

he leaned forward — there was an eager, briglit

lit in his face.

"Jewsbury, if you only knew this girl — not to
brainless and voic ik at her merely, but to know her nature ; if
are carried ti ii could only imagine — " Then he sank back
1 the shoulders of lin in his chair, and put his hands in his pock-
is the result? Y«|. " What is the use of my talking about her?

u see, it will be a very advantageous thing for
)me a by-word. TIB if I can persuade this girl to marry me — very
experience are be rantageous. Her father is a poor man; but
rnment of a nati( ;n he is an earl — I may as well tell you his
anxious to demc; iie; it is Lord Willowby — and he has got valu-

e connections. JA'illowby is not much in tlie

■I'ds. To tell you the truth, I dislike him. He

riiaving grown rii tricky, and meddles with companies — perliaps

t is to he forgiven hit i, for he h-.,..'t a penny.

t lie could be of use to me. And his daugliter

lid be of greater use, if slie were my wife,
iite forgotten ab'o liy Sylvia Balfour could get a better grip of
en listening intent tain people tlian plain Mr. Hugh — "

lis companion liad risen from his chair, and
3 impatiently pacing up and down the floor.
'Balfour," he cried o -t, "I am getting tired of
You know you are only shamming. You
the last man in the world to marry for those
eiablu motives you are now talking about."
'I am not shamming at all," said Balfour,
Illy. " I am only looking at the business side
n-room to Mr. JeAliis question. What other would you like to
CO. " Here you ha r about ? I don't choose to talk about the
herself — until you have known her; and then
ay tell you what I think about her. Sit down,
mply on the stren* a good fellow. Is it my fault that I am ambi-
ts ? — that I want to do something in politics ?"
"If Jlis friend sat down reo'^nedly.
She has accepted j ju r uc ^aid.
Not openly — not confessedly," said the yoimg
and then his breath began to come and go

V^hen Balfour spol
ig a mere paradox
;low in the deep-s
liar fascination ov
They had to list<
ivinced or no,
fellow you arc, B
im, as they were

oung man
;o am I. If that
^ou called me no e
e seat those people

[ was reaping the h ttle more rapidly. " But — but she could not
I don't know wli take what I have said to her — if she had been
, not mine. I mei ry, she would have sent me off — on the con-
Id a deputation ft y, it is only because I don't wish to annoy

her by undue precipitancy — but I think we both
understand."

"And her father?"

" Oh, I suppose her father understands too,**
said Balfour, carelessly. " I suppose I shall have
to ask him formally. I wish to Heaven he would
not have his name mixed up with those compa-
nies."

" The Lady Sylvii, — it is a pretty name," said
his friend, absently.

" And she is as sweet and pure and noble at
her name is beautiful," said Balfour, with a sud-
den proud light in his eyes — forgetting, indeed,
in this one outburst all his schooled reticence.
" You have no idea, Jewsbury, what a woman can
be until you have known this one. I can tell you
it will be something for a man that has to mud-
dle about in the hypocrisies of politics, and to
mix among the cynicisms and affectations and
mean estimates of society, to find at home, al-
ways by him, one clear burning lamp of faith —
faith in human nature, and a future worth striv-
ing for. You don't suppose that this girl is any
of the painted fripperies you meet at every wom-
an's house in London ? Good God ! before I would
■narry cne of those bedizened and microcephalous
playthings — "

He sank back in his easy-chair again, with a
shrug and a laugh. The laugh was against him-
self; he had been betrayed into a useless vehe-
mence.

" The fact is," said he, " Jewsbury, I am not
fi ir to London women — or rather, I mean, to those
iiondon girls who have beei. out a few seasons
and know a good deal more than their mothers
ever knew before them. Fortunately the young
men they are likely to marry are tit matches for
them. Tliey are animated by the same desire —
the chief desire of their lives — and that is to es-
cape the curse imposed on the human race at the
gates of Paradise."

" The curse was double," said his clerical friend,
with a laugh.

" I know," said Balfour, coolly, " and I maintain
what I say. There is no use beating about the
bush."

Indeed, he had never been in the habit of beat-
ing about the bush. For him, what was, was ;
and he had never tried to escape the recognition
of it in n haze of words. Hence the reputation
he enjoyed of being something more than blunt-
spoken — of being, in fact, a pretty good .specimen
of the perfervid Scotchman, arrogant, opiniona-
ted, supercilious, and a trifle too anxious to tread
on people's corns.

" Do you see," he said, suddenly, after a second

or two of quiet, " what Lady lias done for

lier husband ? She fairly curried him into olTice
on the strength of her dinners and parties ; and
now she has badhiaged hiai into a peerage. She
is a wonderfully clever woman. She can mal^a
a newspaper eiiftor fancy himself a duke. By-
tlie-way, I see the Prince has taken to the news-
papers lately ; they are all represented at his gar-
den parties. If you have a clever wife, it is won-
derful what she can do for you."

" And if you have a stupid wife, can you do
any thing for her?" inquired Mr. Jewsbury, to
whom all this business — this theatrical "busi-
ness" of public life — was '^ther unintelligible.

Balfour burst out laughing.

" What would you think of a cabinet minister

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

being led by the nose — what would you think of
Kb resigning the whole of his authority into the
hands of tlie permanent secretary under him —
simply because that secretary undertalces the duty
of getting tlie minister's wife, who is not very pre-
sentable, included in invitations, and passed into
houses where she would never otherwise be seen ?
She is a wonderful woman, that woman. They
call her Mrs. Halaprop. But Tommy Bingham
gets her taken about somehow."

The two friends smoked in silence for some
time ; the Irish Universities, the High Court of
Judicature, the Endowment of Research, may per-
haps have been occupying their attention. But
when Balfour spoke next, he said, slowly,

" It must be a good thing for a man to have a
woman beside him whose very presence will make
the world sweet and wholesome to him. If it
were not for a woman liere or there — and it is
only by accident they reveal themselves to you —
what could one think of human nature?"

" And when are you to see this wonderful rose
that is able to sweeten all the winds of the world ?"
his friend asked, with a smile.

"I am going down with Lord Willowby on
Monday for a few days. I should not wonder if
something happened during that time."

CHAPTER V.

POLITICS AND NKUITINOALEg.

TiiK Lady Sylvia was seated before a mirror,
and her nuiid was dressing her hair. The maid
was a shrewd, kindly, elderly person, who e.'tor-
oisod a good deal of control ovei" her young mis-
tress, iind at this moment she was gently rcn.on-
sti'iitiiiii witli her for her impatience.

" I am sure, my lady, tiiey can not be here for
half an hour yet," said she.

" And if I am too soon ?"■ said the young lady,
with just a ti'ille of petulance. " I wish to be too
soon."

Tiie maid received this admonition with much
coiiifiosiire, and was not driven by it into scamp-
ing iier work. The fact was, it was not slie who
was responsible for the hurry, if hurry there had
to be. Tliere was a book lying on the table. It
was a description of the three Kliunates of Tur-
kistan when as yet these were existing and inde-
pendent states. That was not the sort of book
that ordinarily keeps a young lady l:ite for dress-
ing ; but then there was a good deal of talk, about
this time, over tiie advance of General Kaufmann
on Khiva ; and as there was a member of the
House of Commons coining to dine with a mem-
ber of the House of Lords, they might very prob-
ably refer to this matter ; and in that case, ought
not a certain young lady to be able to follow the
conversation with something of intelligent interest,
when even that school-boy cousin of hers, Johnny
BIythe, could prattle away about foreign poliiics
for half an hour at a stretch ?

"Thank you, Anne," said she, meekly, when
the finishing touch was put to her dress ; and a
couple of minutes afterward she was standing out-
of-doors, on the gray stone steps, in the warm
sunset glow.

She made a pretty picture as she stood there,
listening and expectant. She was dressed in a
(ight-fitting, tight-sleeved dress of cream white

silk, and there was not a scrap of color, or rib.
bon, or ornament about it. She wore no jewelry;
there was not even a soft thin line of gold round
her neck. But there was a white rose in her
brown hair.

Suddenly she heard a sound of wheels in the
distance; her heart began to throb a bit, and
there was a faint flush of color in the pale and
calm and serious face. But the next minute that
flush had died away, and only one who knew her
well could have told that the girl was somewhat
excited, by the fact that the dark pupils of the
gray eyes seemed a trifle larger than usual, and
full of a warm, anxious, glad light,

She caught sight of the wagonette as it came
rolling along the avenue between the elms. A
quick look of pleasure flashed across her face,
Then the small, white, trembling fingers were
nervously closed, and a great fear possessed her
that she might too openly betray the gladness
that wholly tilled her heart.

" How do you do. Lady Sylvia ?" cried Hugh
Balfour, with more gayety than was usual with
him, as he came up the stone steps and shook
hands with her.

He was surprised and chagrined by the • old-B
ness of her manner. She caught his eyes but "'"* he sh
for a moment, and then averted hers, and she '^^•''i rnerelj
seemed to witlidraw her hand quickly from his ^y^^ when i
hearty and friendly grasp. Then why should she
so quickly turn to her father, and hope he

under the
beautiful i
glow in tl
cold, BO dii
the hall, h
had been t(
in reply wl
He could [
fended her
Mcchani
nothing h«
too absurd
she had be
in Parliami
hiuLSclf. ]
cliangc of
tiiat had hi
iiiun of go(
was not m
constituent
him in ans
with much
it would a[
(lid not at
evening. 1

not tired by his stay in London ? That was but
scant courtesy to a guest ; siie had scarcely said
a word to him, and her manner seemed either ex
tremely nervous or studiously distant.

Lord Willowby — a tall, thin, sallow-faced man,
who stooped a little — kissed her, and bestowed
upon her a ferocious smile. That smile of his
iordship'.s, once seen, was not to be forgotten
If Johnny BIythe had iiad any eye for the simili
tudes in things ; if lie had himself poured out u
glass of that mysterious and frothy fluid he had
bought at the " Fox and Hoiintis ;" if he had ol)
served how the fmtli hissed up suddenly in the
glass, and how it instantly disappeared again,
leaving only a blank dullness of liciuid — then liu
might have been able to say wliat his miele":
smile was like. It was a prodigious grin rathe

The dim
down stairs
■daughter in
ly furnished
n shadow I
:he window
;reat doors,
riiis, too, 1
'uum ; but '
igiit from
)f beautifu
iould look
iountry tha
mder the d
lad not lit
iglit was er
"My dear
»y, when thi
hree sorts

than a smile. It flamed and shot all over his '*" ' S^* '°

" Nothinp
le said, cai
laid the arc

Now here
continued a

contorted visage, wrinkling up his eyes and re
vealing his teeth ; then it instantaneously disap-
peared, leaving behind it the normal gloom and
depression of distinctly melancholy features,

" I hope vou enjoyed the drive over from the ■'

station ?" said Lady Sylvia, in a timid voice, to Ppareutly

Mr. Balfour; but her eyes were still cast down, a'k'ng free

He dared not tell her that he had not con he could t(

sciously seen a single natural object all the way ' V'"' *'''*'

over, so full was his heart of the end and aim of 'ri'seS of tl

the journey. " Oh, beautiful ! beautiful I" said he, <'"">t>7 I'fo

" It is a charming country. I am more and more ''.'•' '"'''7. '"^^

delighted with it each time I see it. Is not that— "^ 'iil'ties,

surely that is Windsor ?" »o^^ all ab

All over the western sky there was a dusk; '''ctlier it

blaze of red ; and at the far horizon line, above ffvativcs h

the dark blue woods, there was a tiny line of '^solution

transparent brown — apparently about an inch in oimtryontl

length — with a small projection just visible at ™J much

each end. It was Windsor Castle; but he did * "'^se m

not look long at Windsor Castle. The girl hd *'*'* couW

now turned her eyes in that direction too ; he ^^^^ of th(

had a glimpse of those wonderful clear dcpthd ■* "cr the

" *^ *^ ut an abst

of color, or rib<
roreno jewelry;
e of gold round
lite rose in her

»f wheels in the
lirob a bit, and
in the pale and
lext minute that

who knew her

1 was somewhat
k pupils of the
than usual, and
it

iiette as it came
>n the elms. A
acrosri her face,
[»g fingers were
ir possessed her
ay the gladness

I?" cried Hugh
was usual with
iteps and shook

led by the old

GREEN PASTURES AXD PICCADILLY.

under the soft dark eyelashes ; the pale, serious,
beautiful face caught a touch of color from the
glow in the west. But why should she be so
cold, so distant, so afraid ? When they went into
the iiall, he followed mechanically the man who
had been to'! jtf to wait on him. lie said nothing
in reply wl ..3 heard that dinner was at seven.
lie could nOb 'iderstand in what way he had of-
fended her.

Mechanically, too, he dressed. Surely it was
nothing he had said in the House? That was
too abiiurd : how could tliis girl, brought up as
she had been, care about what was said or done
in Parliament ? And then he grew to wonder at
hiiri-sclf. He was more disturbed by a slight
c'luuigc of manner in this girl than by any thing
that had happened to him for years. He was a
iiiuu of good nervL' and fair aelf-confidenco. He
wii.s not much depressed by the hard things his
constituents said of him. If a minister snubbed
him in answer to a question, he took the snub
with much composure; and his knowle(l<;e that
it would appear in all the papers nex>< morning
did not at all interfere with his dinner of th.it
vening. But now, had it come to this already,
'\\t his ev^cs but ''"'* ^® should become anxious, disturbed, rest

il hers, and she
luickly from his
, why should she
lid hope he •"•"'
? That was but
lad scarcely said
leemed either ex-
stunt.

illow-faccd man,
;r, and be-'towcJ
hat smile of hi^
to be forgotten
ye for the simili-
olf poured out a
thy fluid he had
;"■ if he had ob-
suddenly in the
appeared again,
i(iuid — then h
nhat his uncle's
;ious grin rathe
shot all over his
his eyes and re-
itaneously disap-
irnial gloom and
oly features.
re over from the

less, merely because a girl had turned away her
eyes when she spoke to him ?

The dinner gong was sonnd'ng as he went
lown stairs. He found Lord Willowby and his
laughter in the drawing-room — a spacious, poor-
y furnished chamber that was kept pretty much
u shadow by a large chestnut-tree just outside
he windows. Then a servant threw open the
;reat doors, and they went into the dining-room.
This, too, was a large, airy, poorly furnished
cum ; but what did that matter when the red
ight from the west was painting great squares
)f beautiful color on the walls, and when one
iould look from the windows away over the level
country that was now becoming blue and misty
uider the deepening glow of the sunset ? They
lad not lit the candles as yet ; the fading suu-
ight was enough.

" My dear fellow," remonstrated Lord Willow-
)y, when the servant had offered Balfour two or
hrce sorts of winC; he refusing them all, "what
san I get for you ?"

" Nothing, thank you. I rarely drink wine,"
le said, carelessly. "I think. Lady Sylvia, you
laid the archery meeting was on Wednesday ?"

Now here occurred a strange thing, which was
ontinued all through dinner. Lady Sylvia had

timid voice to PPareijtly surrendered her reserve. She

still cast down
he had not con.
bject all the way
e end and aim of
autif ul !" said he.
m more and more
it. Is not that—

ere was a duskj
•rizon line, above
18 a tiny line of
about an inch in
n just visible at
stle; but he di(i
e,

nlking freely, sometimes eagerly, and doing what
he could to entertain her guest. But wliy was
t that she resolutuiy refused to hear Balfour's
(raises of the quiet and beautiful influences of a
ountry life, and would have nothing to do with
I'chery meetings and croquet parties, and such
rivialities, but, on the contrary, was anxious to
;iiow all abo\it the chances of the government —
licther it was really unpopular — why the Con-
ervativcs had refused to take office — when the
Issolution was expected — what the appeal to the
oinitry on the part of minister.'^ would probably be V
So much for her. Her desire to be instructed
these matters was almost pathetic. If her
TheVirl ha^ ^'"^'^^ could not be said to beat with the great
iiVection too; h( '"'l^ «f t^e people that was not her fault; for
iful clear depths ^ "*' "^^ mass of her fellow-countrymen was
r e ^m un abstract expression that she saw in the

newspapers. But surely she could feel aiid give
utterance to a warm interest in public affairs
and a warm sympathy with those who were giv-
ing up day and night to ttie tiiankless duties of
legislation ?

Now as for him. He was all for the country
and green fields, for peace and grateful silence,
for quiet days, and books, and the singing of
birds. What was the good oi that turmoil they
called public life? What effect could be i)ro.
duced on the character by regarding cunstantly
that clamorous whirl of eager self-interest, of
mean ambitions, of hypocrisy and brazen impu-
dence and ingratitudK? Fur better, surely, the
independence and self-respett of a private life,
the purer social and physical atmosphere of the
still country ways, the simple pleasures, the free-
dom from care, the content and rest.

It was not a discussion ; it was a series of sug-
gestions, of half-declared preferences. Lord Wil-
lowby did not speak much. lie was a inelau-
choly-faced man, and apathetic until there oc-
curred the chance of his getting a few pounds
out of you. Lady Sylvia and Mr. Balfour hud
most of the conversation to themselves, and the
manner of it has just been indicated.

Mr. Balfour would know all about the church
to which this young lady went. Was it High
or Low, ancient or modern * Had she tried her
hand at altar screens ? Did she help in the Christ-
mas decorations? Lady Sylvia replied to these
questions briefly. She appeared far more inter-
ested in the free fight then going on between
Cardinal CuUen and Mr. O'Keeflfe. Wiiat was
Mr. Balfour's opinion as to the jurisdiction of the
Pope in Ireland ?

Mr. Balfour was greatly charmed by the look
of the old-fashioned inn they had passed. Waa
it the " Fox and Hounds ?" It was so picturesque-
ly situated on the iiigh bank at the top of the
hill. Of course Lady Sylvia had noticed the cu-
rious painting on the sign-board. Lady Sylvia,
looking very wise and profound and serious,
seemed rather anxious to know what were the
chances of the Permissive Bill ever being passed,_
and what effect did Mr. Balfour think that would
have on the country. She was quite convinced
— this person of large experience of jails, reform-
atories, police stations, and the like — that by far
the greater proportion of the crimes committed
in this country were the result of drinking. On
the other hand, she complained that so many
conflicting statements were made. How was one
to get to know how the Permissive Bill principle
had worked in Maine?

Lord Willowby only stared at first; then he
began to be amused. Where the devil (this waa
what he thought) had his daughter |)ickcd up
these notions? They were not, so fur as he
knew, contained in any school-room "Treasury
of Knowledge."

As the red light faded out in the west, and a
clear twilight filled the sky, it seemed to Balfour
that there was something strange and mystical
in the face of the girl sitting opjiosite to hitu.
With tho.^c earnest and beautiful eyes, and those
proud and sensitive lips, she might have been an
inspired poetess or prophetess, he imagined, lead-
ing her disciples and worshipers by the earnest-
ness of her look and the grave sweet melody of
her voice. As the twiliglit grew grayer withia
the room, this magnetic influence seemed to grow

> i

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY,

stronger and Btronp;er. He could hnve believed
there was a subtle light shining in tliiic ))ule faue.
He was, indeed, in something lilic a trance when
the servants brought in the candles; and then,
when he saw the warmer light touch this magic-
al and mystic face, and when he discovered that
Lady Sylvia was now less inclined to let her eyes
meet his, it was with a great regret he bade good-
by to the lingering and solemn twilight and the
Tision it had contained.

Lady Sylvia rose to withdraw from the table.

"Do you know," said she to Mr. Balfour, "this
is the most beautiful time of the day with us.
Papa and I always have a walk through the trees
after dinner in the evening. Don't let him sit long."

"As for myself," said Balfour, promptly — he
was standing at the time — " I never drink wine
after dinner — "

" And .vou never drink wine during dinner,"
said his host, with a sudden and fierce smile, that
instantly vanished. "Sit down, Balfour. You
must nt least try a glass of that Madeira."

"Thank you, I am not thirsty," said the youn-
fer man, with great simplicity. " Really I would
just as soon go out now — "

" Oh, Ity all means," said his host. " But don't
hurry any man's cattle. Sylvia will take you for
a stroll to the lake and back — perhaps j'ou may
hear a nightingale. I shall join you presently."

Of course it was with the deepest chagrin that
the young man found himself compelled to accept
T>f this fair escort ; and of course it was with the
rreatest reluctance that the Lady Sylvia threw a
' ght scarf over her head and led the way out into
<ie cool clear evening. The birds were silent
now. There was a pale glow in the northwestern
skies; and that again was reflected on the still
bosom of the lake. As they walked along the
high stone terrace, they caught sight of the first
treinhling star, far over the great dark masses of
th'5 elms.

But in her innocent and eager desire to prove
herself a woman of the world, she would not have
it that there was any special beauty about this
.still night. The silence must be oppressive to
him ; he would weary of this loneliness in a week.
Was there any sight in the world to be compared
to Piccadilly in the evening, with its twin rows of
gas lamps falling and rising with the hollow and
hill — and the whirl of carriages — the lighted win-
dows — with the consciousness that you were in
the very heart of the life and think" . , and ex-
citement of a great nation ?

" We are going up the week after next," said
the Lady Sylvia, " to see the Academy. That is
Wedneslav, the 21st ; and we dine with my uncle
in the evening." Then she added, timidly, " John-
ny told me they had sent you a card."

He did not answer the implied question for a
second or two. His heart was filled with rage
r.nd indignation. Was it fair — was it honorable
— to let this innocent girl, who knew no more of
London life or reputations than a child, go to dine
at that house? Must not her father know very
well that the conduct of Major the Hono*-able
Stephen Blythe, in regard to a betting transac-
tion, was at that very time under the considera-
tion of the committee of the County Club ?

There was a good deal of fierce virtue about
this yoimg man; but it ni.%y Ite doubted if he
would have been so indignant had any other girl
told him merely that she was going to dine with

her uncle — that uncle, moreorer, being heir-pre-
sumptive to an earldom, and not as yet convicted
of having done any thing unusually disreputable.
But somehow the notion got into Balfour's head
that tills poor girl was not half well enough look
cd after. She was left here all by herself, when
her father was enjoying himself in London. She
needed more careful and tender and loving guid
ance. And so forth, and so forth. The anxiety
young men show to undertake the protection of
innocent maidens is tonching in the extreme.

" Yes," said he, suddenly. " I shall dine Witt
Major Blythe on the 2l8t."

He had that very day written to say he would teruiiis
not. But a shilling telegram would put that »j ^y^j
right, and would also enable Major Blythe to bor jg ^ FrencI
row a five-pound note from him on the first poa. ,pg|,j ^ ^ ,
sible occasion. ^^^^^ ha^ke

And so these two walked together, on the higl ^^^, .„.onert
stone terrace, in the fading twilight and under md almost
the gathering stars. And as they came near to ^bhcv "
one dark patch of shrubbery, lo ! the strange si g|,g mi^j.
lence was burst asunder by the rich, full song ol .jq,, ^^jj .^

a nightingale ; and they stood still to hear,
was a song of love he sang — of love and youtl

what not ;
don't kiKiv
some of tl
reports. 1
actual and
rcction on I
]ilc in a £
them, how
tions with i
Shall I tell
These w
beautiful e
and hopes.

Icrstand.
This tir

and the delight of summer nights : how couh ^ „q{ ^^ jj
they but stand still to hear ? „„„„„„ ,^,

iii'iiy clean,
vii'iie neigh
iiid that by ]
ourpence —
le's rooms
n the comni

CHAPTER VL

A LIFE-PLEDGE.

Lord Willowby had fallen asleep. Througl ^i^^^^^ j^ ,
the white curtains of the window they could m ^ j,asi(e'^ .
him lying back in an epsy-chair, a newspape nornintr-lm
dropped on his knee. Why should they go in t _ti,^y \y„,^
wake him ? ~ ^^-^ ^^^^

The wan light was dying away from the bosoD „ j„ gnjoke
of the lake down there, and there was less of i ^ ^ ^^^ .j^^
glow in the northern skies.; but the stars wen pjii 5- „„ „'
binning more clearly now — white and throbbinj ^^g -j^ ^r
over the black foliage of the elms. The nightin i|jg ^ooms i
gale sang from time to time, and the woods wer g,,„ fairlv
silent to hear. Now and again a cool breez (p' - •'
came through the bushes, bringing with it a seen
of lilacs and sweet-brier. They were in no hurr
to re-enter the house,

Balfour was talking a little more honestly an
earnestly now ; for he had begun to speak of hi
work, liis aims, his hopes, his difficulties. It wa |] ^eahle
not a romantic tale he had to tell on this beaut |,j„| jj^
ful night, but his companion conferred romanc [p^gg j. '
upon it. He was talking as an eager, busy, pra< g^g Allev »
tical politician ; she believed she was listening t r^^^^ Lailv
a great statesman, to a loader of the future, t ppj,^|^ ^-^J
her country's one and only savior. It was of n ivorcd alio
use that he insisted on the prosaic and commoi
Tjlace nature of the actual work he had to do.

" You see. Lady Sylvia," he said, " I am on
an apprentice as yet. I am only learning how
use my tools. And llic fact is, there is not ©"Boiircd scor
man in fifty in the House who fancies that ai ^^ ^^ j.
tools are necessary. Look how on the most f
miliar subjects — tlio.se nearest to their own doo

they are content to take all their informatio enlv come

■\m flm nAn.'onariat*c] Thnv ViAmrAi* ^Kinlr r\f i^H. , ^.

" It is noi
er com pan
omewhat n
ill be quit*

"0h,"8ai

" I was w(
own there
aving a ba
hich the p

from the newspapers. They never think of
quiring, of pacing, for themselves. They woi

j out legislation as a mere theorem ; they have i ,rg jj-^

I idea how it is practically applied. They pa

I Adulteration Acts, Sanitary Acts, Lodging-hnu

1 Acts ; they consider Gas Bills, Water Bills, ai Jj n^ty

esently sh

-h

being heir-pre.
a yet convicted
y disreputable,
I3alfour'B head
U enough loolc
y herself, when
[ London. She
nd loving guid
1. The anxiety
le protection of
he extreme,
shall dine witli

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

light and undci
cy came near to

the strange si
"ich, full song o
till to hear.

love and youtl

what not ; l)iit it Is all done in the air. They
don't ki)f»v. Now I have been trying to cram on
gome of these tilings, but I have avoided otti'ial
reports. I Itiiow tlic pull it will give me to have
•dual and pwiconal experience — this ii* in one di-
rection only, you see— of the way tlie poorer peo-
]ilu in a great town live: how taxation affects
tlieni, how the hospitals treat them, their rela-
tions with the police, and a hundred other things.
Shall I tell you a secret. Lady Sylvia ?"

These were pretty secrets to be told on this
beautiful evening: secrets not of lovera' dreams
and hopes, but secrets about Gas Bills and Wa
to say he wouldjter Bills.

" I lived for a week in a court in Seven Dials,

ir BIythe to bor jg ^ French polisher. Next week I am going to

on the first pos jpend in a worse den — a haunt of tiiieves, tramps,

md hawkers; a very pretty den, indeed, to be

her, on the high [|,y property of the Ecclesiastical Commissioners,

ind almost under the shadow of Westminster

Abbey."

She uttered a slight exclamatfon — of depreca-
ion and anxious fear. But he did not quiwC un-
Icrstand.
- " Tills time, however," he continued, " I shall

jhts: how coul( ^ not so badly off; for I am going to live at a
mnuion lodging-house, and there the beds are
Mvuy clean. I have been down and through the
Mioie neighborhood, and have laid my plans. I
itid that by imyiii^eightpence a.night — instea(' of
burpence — I shnil have one of the married pc
tie's rooms to myself, instead of having to sleep
n the common room. There will be little trouble
isleep. Througl ^^Q^^^ it j g\^g^\ j,g ^ hawker, my stock in trade
.w they could se ^ jj^sket ; and if I disappear at three in the
lir, a newspapei noming — going off to Covent Garden, you know
juld they go in t( _tin>y won't expeet to sec me again till nine or
en in the evenini', when they meet in tiio kitch-
yfrom the boson ,„ j„ gmokc ami ihink beer. It is then I hope
ere was less of ^ ^^,^ ^\\ jj^g information 1 want. You see there
i\t the stors wen ^in ^e no great hardship. I shall bo able to slip
ite and throbbinj of,ie in the morning, get wasliei), nnd a sleep.
ns. The nightin '|,g rooms in these common lod'iing-liouses are
id the woods wer gpy f^jrly clean ; the police supervision is very
tin a cool breez tr-f-; "

ingwith it a seer ..jt jg not the hardship," said Lady Sylvia to
f were in no hurr gp companion, and her breath came nnd went
omewhat more ((uickly, " it is the danger — you
nore honestly aw .jn {,g ,|„jtp ,j|Q„g — among such people."
in to speak of hi « Qh," said he, lightly, " there is no danger at
ifficulties. It wa |] Besides, I have an ally— the great and pow-
;ell on this beaut rf,,! Mrs. Grace. Shall I tell you about Mrs.
onferred roman( (race, the owner of pretty nearly half of Happi-
i eager, busy, pra< ggg ^llev ?"

le was listening t ^^^^^ L^,ly gyj^j^ ^„„j^ l,g„p something of this
■ of the future, t p^^^j^ ^^jtj, t|,g pretty name, who lived in that
ior. It was of n n-ored alley.

•sale and commoi .. j ^(,3 wandering through the courts and lanes
k he had to do. ovn there one dav," said Balfour, " and I was
1 said, "I am on jyj„g ^ j,^^ time 6f it ; for I had a tall hat on,
ily learning how t |,jpj, the people regarded as ludicrous, and thoy
s, there is not 01 o„rcd scorn and contempt on me, and one or

fancies that ai ^o of the women at the windows above threw
»w on the most i ,i^gg ^^ jjjy jjj^t. However, as I was passing
to their own doo ,g joor, I saw a very strong-built woman sud-

1 their informatu ^^jy ^^^^ ^iit, and she threw a basket in ,0 the
never think of 1 ijjig ^f t^c lane. Then she went bade, and
elves. They woi .gggntly she appeared again, simply shoving be-
reiti; th^havei ,pg j^gj, — |jgj. j^j^j^^j ^.^^ gjg goUar — a man who
)plied. They^pa ^g certainly as big as herself. ' You clear out,'
.cts, Lodging-hou ,g g^^ij , ^J, ^ then with one arm — it was bare
3, Water Bills, ai ,(j pretty muscular — she shot him straight after

the basket. Well, the man wn'< a meek man,
and did not say a word. 1 saiil to her, ' Is that
your husband vou are treating so badly Y' Of
"ourso I kept out of the reach of her arm, for
wrj;nen who are quarreling with their husbands
are pretty free with their hands. But this wom-
an, although she had a firm, resolute face and a
gray mustache, was as cool and collected as a
judge. ' Oh dear no,' she said ; ' that is one of
my tenants. He can't pay, so he's got to get
out.* On the strength of this introduction I
made the acquaintance of Mrs. (rrace, who is
really a most remarkable woman. I suppose she
is a widow, for she hasn't a winjrlo relative in the
world. She has gone on renting house after
house, letting the rooms, collecting her rents and
her nightly fees for lodgers, and looking after her
property generally with a decision and ability
qu'te out of the ordinary. I don't suppose she
lo,5e8 a shilling in the month by bad de'i,ts. ' Pay,
or out you go,' is her motto with her tenants;
' Pay first, or you can't come in,' she says to her
lodgers. She has been an invaluable ally to me,
that woman. I have gone through the most
frightful dens with her, and there was scarcely a
word said ; she is not a woman to stand any non-
sense. And then, of course, her having amassed
this property, sixpence by sixpence, has made her
anxious to know the conditions on which all the
property around her is held, and she has a re-
markably quick and shrewd eye for things. Once,
I remember, we had been exploring a number of
houses that were in an infamous condition.
' Well,' I said to her, ' how do the sanitary in-
spectors pass this over ?' She answered that the
sanitary inspectors wero only the servants of the
Mciiieal OtH^er of Health. ' Very well, then,' I
said, ' why doesn't the Medical Officer of Health
act?' You should have seen the cool frankness
with which she looked at me. ' You see, Sir,' she
said, ' the Me<lie.al Officer of Health is appointed
by the vestry; and the?e houses arc the property

of Mr. , who is a vestry-man; and if he was

made to put them to lights, he might as well pull
them down altogether. So I suppose. Sir, the in-
spectors don't say much, and the Medical Officer

he doesn't say any thing, and Mr. is not

put to any troui)lc.' There is nothing of tliat
sort about Mrs, Grace's property. It is the clean-
est bit of whitewash in Westminster. And the
way she looks after the water-supply — But
really, Lady Sylvia, I must apologize to you for
talking to you about such uninteresting things."

" Oh, I assure you," said the girl, earnestly and
honestly, "that J ;ini deeply interested — intensely
interested ; but it is all so strange and terrible.
If — if I knew Mrs. Grace, I would like to^to send
her a present."

It never occurred to Balfour to ask himself why
Lady Sylvia BIythe should like to send a present
to a woman living in one of the -lums of West-
minster. Had the girl a wild liotion that by a
gift she could bribe the virago of Happiness Al-
ley to keep watch and ward over a certain (Quix-
otic young man who wanted to become a Parlia-
mentary Haroun-al-Raschid ?

" Mr. Balfour," said Lady Sylvia, suddenly,
" have you asked this Mrs. Grace about the pru-
dence of your going into that lodging-house ?"

" Oh yes, I have got a lot of slang terms from
her — hawkers' slang, you know. And she is to
get me my suit of clothes and the basket."

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

" But surely they will recognize you as having
been down tl.eru before."

" Not a bit. I tihull have my face plentifully
begrimed ; and tliere is no better dittguine fur a
man than hia taking off his collar and tying a
wisp of black ribbon round his neck instead.
Then I can smoke pretty steadily; and I need
not talk much in the kitchen of an evening. But
why should I bother you with these tliin),'s, Lady
Sylvia ? I only wanted to show you a bit of the
triiiiiing that 1 think a man should go through
before he gets up in Parliament with some de-
lightfully accurate scheme in his hand for the
amelioration of millions of human beings — of
whose condition he docs not really know the
smallest pr..'ticular. It is not the picturesque
side of legislation. It is not heroic. But then
if you want a tine, bold, ambitious flight of states-
manship, you have only got to go to Oxford or
Cambridge ; in every college you will find twenty
young men ready to remodel the British Consti-
tution in five minutes."

They walked once more up to the window;
Lord VVillowby was still asleep in the hushed
yellow-lit room. Had they been out a quarter of
an hour — holf an hour? It was impossible for
them to say ; their rapidly growing intimacy and
friendly confidence took no heed of time.

" And it is very disheartening work," he added,
with a sigh. " The degradation, physical and
mental, you see on the faces you meet in these
slums is terrible. You begin to despair of any
legislation. Then the children — their white faces,
their poor stunted bodies, their weary eyes — thank
God you have never seen that sight. I can stand
most things : I am not a very soft-hearted person :
but. — but I can't stand the sight of those children."

She had ".lever heard a man's sob before. She
was terrified, overawed. But the next moment
he had burst into a laugh, and was talking in
rather a gay and excited fashion.

" Yes," said he, " I should like to have my try
at heroic legislation too. I should like to be
made absolute sovereign and autocrat of this
country for one week. Do you know what I
should do on day number one? I should go to
the gentltmen who form the boards of the great
City guilds, and I would say to them, ' Gentle-
men, I assure you you would be far better in
health and morals if you would cease to spend
your revenues on banquets at five guineas a head.
You have had (piite as much of that as is good
for you. Now I propose to take over the whole
of the property at present in j'our hands, and if
I find any reasona'jl! becpiest in favor of fish-
mongers, or skinners', or any other poor trades-
men, that I will administer, but the rest of your
wealth — it is only a trifle of twenty millions or
so, capitalized — I mean to use for the benefit of
yourselves and your fellow-citizens.' Then, what
next ? I issue my edict : ' There shall be no more
slums. Every house of them must be razed to
the ground, and the situs turned into gardens, to
tempt currents of air into the heart of the city.'
But what of the dispossessed people? Why, I
have got in my hands this twenty millions to
whip them off to Nebraska and make of them
great stock-raising communities on the richest
grass lands in the world. Did I tell you, Lady
Sylvia," he added, seriously, "that I m-an to
hang all the directors of the existing water and
gas companies ?"

" No, you did not say that," she answered, with
a smile. But she would not treat this matter al-
together as u joke. It might please him to makg
f im of himself ; in her inmost heart she believed
that, if the country only gave him these unlimited
powers for u single year, the millennium would
ipHofaelo have arrived.

" And so," said he, after a time, "you see how
I am situated. It is a poor business, this Parlia-
mentary life. There is a great deal of wean and
shabby work connected with it."

" I think it is the noblest work a man could
put his hand to," she said, with a flush <m her
cheek that he could not see; "and the noblcncsi
of it is that u man will go through the things you
have described for the good of others. 1 don't
call that mean or shabby work. I would call it
mean or shabby if a man were building up a
great fortune to spend on himself. If that wui
his object, what could be more mean ? You go
into shuns and dens; you interest yourself in tli«
()oorest wretches that are alive; you give your
days and your nights to studying what you can
do for them ; and you call all that care and trou-
ble and self-sacrifice mean and shabby !"

"But you forget," said he, coldly, " what is m;
object. I am serving my ap|)rentice8hip. I wasit
these facts for my own purposes. You pay a
politician for his trouble by giving him a reputa-
tion, which is the object of his life — "

" Mr. Balfour," she said, proudly, " I don't know
much about public mcH. Vou may say what you
please about them. But I think I know a little
about you. And it is useless your saying such
things to me."

For a second he felt ashamed of his habit ol
self-depreciation; the courage of the girl was a
rebuke — was an a|ipeal to a higher candor.

"A man has need to beware," he said. " It if
safest to put the lowest construction on your own i^q^j n^ust

are the no

I will say i

almost sin(

the truth.

forgive me

the last of

She had

before him

80 that she

" If I ho

nient or tv

liun will br

shall I take

She put (

"lamafi

ly hear the

1 be to you-

—I have nc

to be all th

He took 1

" I have !

" Yes," s:

into his fac

hope and g(

be to vou al

"Sylvia,

and indeed

Bpeech beti

beautiful ni|

from time t

ing of the

uight wind i

By-and-bj

fralked arm

n their hca

■com. Lon

hair and n

"Bless n

imiles, " I h

His lords

conduct; it will not be much lower than that ol 1,^^ Y^Q bad
the general opinion. But I did wrong. Lady Syl
via, in talking like that to you. You have a greui
faith in your friends. You could inspire any muD
with confidence in himself-

Ile paused for a moment ; but it was not t(
hear the nightingale sing, or toli.'^ten to the whii
periiig of tlie wind in the dark elms. It was
gain couiago for a further frankness.

"It would be a good thhig for the public lif( laughter sa
of this country," said he, " if there were mor ent and n(
women like yon — ready to give generous encoui "~

j agement, ready to believe in the di.'^iiitcrestedncs
of a man, and with a full faith in the usefulnes
of his work. I can imagine the gouil fortune u
a man who, after being harassed and bullVtci
about — perhaps by his own self-criticism as niuc

Lor.n W
irliat had

)ieces. Th

hould go

L's ea. She h

hrough, Ba

irm and de

.At this ju
as by the opinions of otliers — could always lin^ould have
in his own home consolation and trust and con:
age. Look at his independence; he would Ij
able to satisfy, or he would try to satisfy, on
opinion that would be of more value to him tha
that of all the world besides. What would he cm
about the ingratitude of others, so long as he ha
his reward in hia own home ? But it is a pictun
a dream."

" Could a woman be all that to a man ?" tb
girl asked, in a low voice.

Y«m could," said he, boldly; and he stoppe
and confronted her, and took both her tremblin
hands in his. " Lady Sylvia, wiicr I have drcan
ed that dream, it was your face I saw in it. Yo

worn ctern
;ift he was
ndless pro

•I'dd guar
talfour was
'> the cool
iid a certa
'us, ])erha[
n.l he kne
athcr-in-la

" Lord \^

in. Yo

our daugh

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

are the noblest woman I liave known. I — well,
I will any it now — I love you, and have loved you
almost since the first moment I saw you. That is
the truth. If I have pained you — well, you will
forgive me after I have gone, and this will be
the last of it."

She had withdrawn her hands, and now stood
before him, her eyes cast down, her heart beating
go thnt she could not speak.

" If I have pained you," said he, after a mo-
ment or two of anxious silence, " my presump-
tion will bring its own punishment. Lady .Sylvia,
glinll I take you back to the Hull y"

She put one hand lightly on his arm.

"I am afraid," she said; and' ,ould but scarce-
ly hear the low and trembling words. " How can
1 bo to you — what you described 1 It is so much
—I have never thought of it — and if I should fail
to he all that you expect?"

He took her in his ari.is and kissed her forehead.

" I hove no fe. . Will you try?"

" Yes," she answered ; and now she looked up
into his face, with her wet eyes full of love and
hope and generous self-surrender. " I will try to
be to you all that you could wish me to be."

" Sylvia, my wifi'," was all he said in reply ;
nd indeed there was not much need for further
epeech between these two. The silence of the
beautiful night was eloquence enough. And then
from time to time they had the clear, sweet sing-
ing of the nightingale and the stirring of the
uight wind among the trees.

By-and-by they went back to the Hall; they
c I know a little nalked arm in arm, with a great peace and joy
rour saying such n their hearts ; and they re-entered the dining-
room. Lord Willowby started up In his easy-
1 of his habit of uimir ^nd rubbed his eyes.

" Bless me I" said he, with one of his violent
imiles, " I have been asleep.

His lordship was a peer of the realm, and hia
ord must be taken. The fact was, however,
wcr than that ()lfti,at he had not been asleep at all,
wrong. Lady Syl
You have a grcal
d inspire any min

tnswered, with
this matter aU
e him to makg
rt she believed
huse unlimited
lunnium would

, " you BOO how
ss, this Parliit
il of mean and

k a man could
a flush <m her
1 the noblcnesi
the things you
(tilers. 1 don'l
I would call it
building up a
i. If that wui
lean ? You go
, yourself in tli«
you give your
g what you can
t care and trou-
labby !'
ly, " what is my
ieuship. 1 want
L'S. You pay
ig him a reputu-
fo— "
y, " I don't know
ay say what yon

)f the girl was a
licr candor.
• he said. " It is
tion on your own

)ut it was not t(
isten to the whii
elms. It was i

kncss.

there were ^lol^
generous encoui

it to a man ?" th

CHAPTER VIL

A C0NrE.SSI0N or FAITH.

Lonn WiLLOWBT guessed pretty accurately
luit had occurred. For a second or two his

or the public lif( laughter sat down at the table, pale a little, si-

ent, and nervously engaged in pulling a rose to

lieees. Then she got up and proposed they

disintcrestednes hould go into the drawing-room to have some

in the usefulne.i ea. She led the way; but just as she had gone

c good fortune u Inough, Balfour put his hand on Lord VVillowby's

wed and bull'otui irm and detained him.

criticism as niml At this juncture a properly minded young man
■could always lim voiild have been meek and apologetic; would have
id trust and con: worn eternal gratitude in return for the priceless
ift he was going to demand ; would have made
ndless protestations as to the care with which he
oidd guard that great treasure. But this Hu<;li

ice; he would
ry to satif^fy, on
value to him tlu

/hat would he car Jul four was not very good at sentiment. Added
,80 long as he ha n the cool jmlgment of a man of the world, he
liut it is a picturi nj a certAin forbidiling reserve about liini which
MS, perhaps, derived from his Scotch descent ;
n.l he knew a great deal more about his future
atlier-in-law than that astute person imagined.
" Lord Willowby," said he, " a word before we

If; and he stoppe

Ijoth her tremblin o in. You must have noticed my regard for
riicr I have drean our daughter ; and you may have guessed what
I saw ID it. Yo|

it might lead to. T presume it was not quite dis*
pleasing to you, or you would not have been so
kind as to invite me here from time to time.
Well, I owe you an apology for having spoken
sooner than I intended to Lady Sylvia — I ought
to have mentioned the matter to you tirst — "

" My dear fellow," said Lord Willowby, seizing
his hand, while all the features of his face were
suddenly contorted into what he doubtless meant
as an expression of rapturous joy, "not another
word ! 0{ course she accepted you — her feelings
for you have long l)een known to me, and my
child's happiness 1 put before all other consider-
ations. Bulfour, you have got a good girl to be
your wife ; take care of her."

" I think you may trust me for that," was the
simple answer.

They went into the room. Not a word was
said ; but Lord Willowby went over to his daugh«
ter and patted her on the back and kissed her:
then she knew. A servant brought in some tea.

It was a memorable evening. The joy within
the young man's heart hud to tind some outlet;
and he talked then as no one had ever heard him
talk before — not even his most intimate friend ut
Kxeter, when they used to sit discoursing into the
small hours of the morning. Lord Willowby
could not readily understand a man's being ear-
nest or eloquent except under the influence of
wine; but Balfour scarcely ever drank wine.
Why should he be so vehement ? He was not
much of an orator in the House; in society ho
was ordiuarily cold and silent. Now, however,
he had grown indignant over a single phrase they
had stumbled against — "You can't make men
moral by act of Parliament" — and the gray eyes
under the heavy eyebrows had an intense ear-
nestness in thein as he denounced what he chose
to call a pernicious lie.

" You can make men moral by act of Parlia-
ment — by the action of Parliament," he was in-
sisting ; and there was one there w ho listened with
rapt attention and faith, even when he was utter-
ing the most preposterous paradoxes, or giving
way to the most violent prejudice ; " and the na-
tion will have to answer for it that proceeds on
any other belief. For what is morality but the
perfect adjus^tuient of the human orguuism to the
actual conditions of iife — the observance by the
human being of those unchangeable, inexorable
laws of the universe, to break which is death,
physical or spiritual, as the case may be ? What
have all the teachers who have taught mankind
— from Moses in his day to Carlyle in ours—
been insisting on but that ? Moses was only a sort
of divine vestry-man ; Carlyle has caught some-
thing of the poetry of the Hebrew prophets ; but
it is the same thing they say. There are the fixed
immutable laws : death awaits the nation or the
man who breaks them. Look at the lesson the
world has just been reading. A liar, a perjuror,
and traitor gets up in the night-time and cuts the
throat of a nation. In the morning you find him
wearing imperial robes; but if you looked you
would find the skirts of them bespattered with
the blood of the women and children he has had
shot down in the street. Europe shudders a lit-
tle, but goes on its way ; it has forgotten that the
moment a crime is committed, its punishment is
already meted out. And what does the nation do
that has been robbed and insulted — that has seea
tbose luaoceut women and children shot down

OREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

that tha mean ambition of a liar might be satii-
ileil y It iit quick to furKiveneis ; for it huli it-
self triui<u(l out ill gay KurmentR, and it haa mon-
ey put in itii iK)uket, iind It \» bidden to dance and
tie merry. Every thing la to be condoned now ;
for life haa become like a mankod ball, and it
doefl not matter what tliiovcB and awindlers there
miiy be In the crowd, lo long an there Is plenty of
briiliant liglitH and inuiilo and wine. Lady Sylvia,
do you know Alfred Kethvi'H ' Dor Tod alH Feind V
' — Ui'atli coiiiinx in toamitodown themankcrs and
the niUHicinukui'H at a revel f It does not mutter
much who or what \» the itutlrumenx of vengeance,
but the vengeance Ih tiuro. Wiien Franco waa pay-
ing her peiiulty — when the chuilu; wheels oi 'jod
w»re grinding exceeding hard — hIio cried at i\cr
enemy, ' You are only a pack of Iluns.' Well,
Attilu waH a Hun, a bnrbnrian, probably a 8up.!r-
atitioua mivage. I don't know what particular iort
of fetish he may have woishined — what blurred
image or idol hu hud in his mind of Uitn v ho is
past Hnding out ; but however rude or savage his
notions were, he knew that the laws of God had
been broken, and tlie time for vengeance had
come. The Hcourge of (Jod may be Attilu or anoth-
er : an eiiidemiu that slays its thousands because
II iiadon iius not been cleanly — the lacerating of a
niotlicr's heart when in her carelessness she has let
her child cut its finger with a knife. The penalty
liiis to bo paid ; aometimcs nt the moment, some-
times long after ; for the sins of the fathers are
visiteil nut only on their children, but on their
cJilldien's children, and ho on to the end, nature
uliiiming her Inexorable due. And when I go
down to the slums I have been talking to you
about, how dare I say that these wretched people,
living in squalor and ignorance and misery, are
only paying the penalty for their own mistakes and
criiiiesy You look at their narrow, retreating,
iiitinkcy-like forehead, the heavy and liideous jowl,
tlie tliiek neck, and the furtive eye; you tliiiik of
the foul uir they have breathed from tlieir infancy,
of tliu bud water and unwholesome food they have
consumed, of the dense ignorance in which ihey
have been allowed to grow up; and how can you
say that their immoral existence is uny thing but
inevitable y I am talking almut Westiniiister, Lord
Willowby. From sonio parts of these slums you
can sec the towers of the Houses of Parliament,
giittei'ing in gilt, and looking very Hne in'lced.
And if 1 dcclaieil my belief lliiit the immorality
of these wretched people of the slums lay as
mueli at the door of the Houses of Parliament as
Ht tiieir (»vn door, I sup()use people would say I
WHS a rabid democrat, pandering to the passions
of the poor to achieve some notoriety. But I be-
lieve it all the same, Wrong-doing — the break-
Inii, of the universal laws of existence, the subver-
sion of those conilitfoim which produce a settled,
wliolesome, orderly social life — is not necessarily
personal ; it may be national ; it may have been
continued tlirougli centuries, until the results have
been so stumped into the character of the nation
— or into tlie«:ondition of a part of a nation— tliat
they almost seem iucradicjible. And so I say that
you enn and do make people moral or immoral
by the uetion of Parliament. There is not an Edu-
cation bill, or a University Tests Hill, or an Indus-
trial Dwellings Dill you pass which has not its ef-
fect, for good or ill, on the relations between the
people of a country nnd those eternal laws of rii;ht
which are forever demanding fultillinent. With-

for. nok

out aome such fixed belief, how could any man
spend his life in tinkering away at these continual
experiments in legislation y You would merely
pass a vote trebling the police force, and have
done with it."

Whether or not this vehement and violenti;
prejudiced young man had quite convinced Lord
Willowby, it was abundantly clear that ho ha'
long ago convinced himself. His eyes were
" glowering," as the Scotch suy ; and he hud
gotten all about the tea that Lady Sylvia herself
hud poured out and brought to him. The fact
is. Lord Willowby had not paid much attention.
He was thinking of something else. He per
ceived that the young man was in an emotional
and enthusiastic moou ; and he was wondering
whether, in return for having just been present,
ed with a wife, Mr. Hugh Balfour might not '
induced to become a director of a certain
pany in which his lordship was interested, and
which was sorely in need of help at that
ment.

But Lady Sylvia was convinced. Here, indeed
was a confe:i!*ion of faith tit to come from
man whom she had just accepted as her bus
band. Ho had for the moment thrown off liL
customary garb of indifference or cynicism; hi
hud revealed himself; he hud spoken with car
nest voice and etn' ,.^ iurnest eyes; and to "
the words were as tlie words of one inspired.

" Have you any more water-color drawings
show nie. Lady Sylvia ?" he asked, suddenly.

A (|uick shade of surprise and disappoimment
passed over the calm and serious face. Slie
knew why he had asked. He had imagined thii
these public affairs must be dull for her. Hi
wished to speak to her about something more
within her comprehension. She was hurt; and
she walked a little proudly as she went to
the drawings.

" Here is the whole collection," said she, indif
fercntly. " I don't remember which of them
saw before. I think I will bid you good-nigh
now."

" I nm afraid I have bored you terribly," said
ho, as he rose.

" You can not bore me with subjects in which
I take so deep an interest," said she, with some
decision.

He took her hand and bade her good-night,
There was more in the look that passed between
those two than in a thousand effusive embraces.

"Now, Balfour," said his lordship, with unac-
customed gayety, " what do you say to changing
our coats, and having a cigar in the library?
And a glass of grog? — a Scotchman ought
know something about whiskey. Besides, you
' don't win u wife every day."
I It was Lord Willowby who looked and talkci
as if he hud just won a wife as the two men went
I up stairs to the library. He very rarely imokert,
' but on this occasion he lit a cigarette ; and
said he envied Balfour his enjoyment of that
wooden pipe. Would his guest try somethinp
: lioi ? No? Then Lord Willowby stretched oui
' his le^'s, and lay back in tlie easy-chair, apparent
! ly g'.catly contented with liiinscif and the world,
j Wiien the servant hud tiimlly gone, his lor
' ship said,

! " How well you talked to-night, Balfour!
, flush, the elation, you know — of course a mac
! talks better before his sweetheart than befori

le House of

tiHt speak (

exs side of

ced not bo

iiuge. Let

■icndly. I i

nghter, ani

The younp

ing his

f indigiiRtio

" You knoi

ontinued. '

1 don't e:

On the u

icli cases, y

age settlem

be HI, I should

coin liiiiwlancc.

mo-

tile

her

gel

you iiliuii

lip, with a g

inking — nn

cli young fi

iicc an im|

h;;c settlem

lok ratlier

avo to men

ani for an i

girl be betl

laced uii he

j:e her inu

1 1 li -note — s

uprise, the

|)(in a girl'^

(luld not ha

IIP. Of cou

)u imagine

KMi she opi

Ilall'our di

's gayety.

L'trayed an i

til in his

al elatic
ilatcd on tl
iiir's very
utters, he
Balfour In
retched ha

I don't
can to avji
sort you
" My dear
1 air of
ke."

"Ah! I td

is better

matters ;

d?al with.

eiit, of coi

ic whole at

"Oh, nati

lyly; but

of this

" You met

r man, sp

ime indiffe

I at once f

, I have n

ave allow

lod deal o:

that the

!, my lore

1 deal

low any th

he !ad(

rd-

Th(

eould anj roan
these continual

would merelj iimt Hpeak of what you miglit call the — the buiti-

force, and have km aide of your mairiage, well, I Huppoao we
ved not bo too technical or strict in our lan^

and violentlj imge. Let us be fiank with cucli other, and

convinced Lord -It-ndly. I am glad you are going to marry my

ir that ho had unghter, and hu doubtlusa aru you."
lis eves were

The young r,an said nothing at all. He was
and lii) had forAnoking hia p'pe. There was no longer any tire
y Kylvia herself
im. The fact
nuch attention
else. He per
n an emotiona

interested, and
Ip at that roo

Here, indceil,

come from tin

ted as her hun

I thrown oft \m

pnken with car
yes ; and to her
>ne inspired,

d, suddenly,

disappointment

ions luce. She

SREEN PASTURES AND PICCADU.LT.

\e Tlouse of Commons. And if you and T, now,

f indignntion or earnestness in his eyes.
" You know 1 am a very poor man," his lordship
sntinued. " 1 can't give Sylvia any thing."
"I don't expect it," said Uulfour.
" On the other hand, you are a rich man. In
w.i»4 wonderingBic'li cases, you know, there is ordinarily a mar-
it been present- a^rc settlement, and naturally, us Sylvia's guard-
ir might not be ii, I should expect you to give her out of your
' a certain com- hnnduncc. But then, Balfour," said his lord-

lip, with a gay air and a ferocious smile, " I was
linking — merely as a joke, you know — what a
cli young fellow like yourself might do to pro-
line an impression on a romantic girl. Mar-
h;;c settlements are very prosaic things; they
Kik rather like buying a wife; moreover, they
uvc to mention contingencies which it is awk

DP cynicism ; he anl for an unmarried girl to hear of. Wouldn't

girl be better pleased, now, if an envelope were
liicL'd on her dressing-room table the night be-
)(! her marriage — tlie envelope containing a

)lor drawings to mili-iiote — say for iloU.OOO? The mystery, the

ii|ii'i.si>, the deliglit — all these things would tell
|i(in a girl's mind ; and she would be glad she
(luld not have to go to church an absolute bcg-
id imagined tlml n'- Of courtie that is merely a joke ; but can't
dl for her. H( »» imagine what the girl's face would be like
something more lieu she opened the envelope V"

Hull'our did not at all respond to his compan-
she went to gctBn's gxyt'^.v- i" ^''^ drawing-room below he had
utiayed an unusual enthusiasm of speech. What
," said she, indif i^iu in his circumstances could fail to show a
hicli of them you lUural elation? But if Lord Willowby had cal-
you good-nigha|>latcd on this elation interfering with Mr. Bal-
lur's very tfobcr habit of looking at business
attors, he had made a decided mistake.
Balfour laid dowr. his pipe, and pu . his out-
retched hands on his knees.

I don't know," said he, coolly, " whether you
can to suggest that 1 should do something of
her good-night, le sort you describe—"

" My dear fellow !" said Lord Willowby, with
air of protest In was only a fancy — a
ke."

"Ah! I thought so,' said Balfour. "I think
is better to treat money matters simply as mon-

an terribly," said

lubjects in which
d she, with some

t passed between

Fusive embraces.

Iship, with unac

say to changing

in the library

tchman ought to ' matters ; romance has plenty of other things
y. Besides, you

he two men went
ry rarely imoked,

d^al with. And as regards a marriage settle-
cnt, of course I should let my lawyer arrange
)oked and talkcdje whole affair."

"Oh, naturally, naturally," said his lordship,
lyly; but he inwardly invoked a curse on the

igarette ; and he !ftd of this mean-spirited Scotchmaa
ijoyment of that " You mentioned £50,000," continued the youn-
!t try something 'r man, speaking slowly and apparently with
by stretched out <ne indifference. " It is a big sum to demand

I at once from my partners. But then the fact
I have never spent much money myself, and
v gone, his lord liave allowed them to absorb in the business a

lod deal of what I might otherwise have had,
that they are pretty deep in ray debt. Y'ou
of course a maillot my lord, I have inherited from my father a
eart than before ">d deal of pride in our firm, though 1 don't

low any thing about its operations myself ; and

they have lately been eitending the businr«fl both
in Australia and China, and 1 have drawn only
what I wanted for my yearly accounts. So I caa
easily have £00,000 from them. That in a safe
four per cent, investment would bring £2Uoo a
jear. Do you think Lady Svlvia would consid-
er—"

" Sylvia is a mere child," her father said. " Sho
knows nothing about r,uch things."

" If you |)referred it," said Balfour, generously,
" I will make it part of the settlement that tho
trustees shall invest that sura, suliject to Lady
Sylvia's directions,"

Lord Willowby's face, that had been gradually
resuming its sombre look, brightened up.

"I suppose you would act as one of the trust-
ees y" said Balfour.

His lordship's face grew brighter still. It was
quite eagerly that he cried out,

" Oh, willingly, willingly. Sylvia would havo
every contidence in me, naturally, and 1 should be
delighted to be able to look after the interests of
my child. You can not tell what she has been to
me. I have tended her every day of her life — "

["Except when you went knocking about all
over Europe without her," thought Balfour.]

" I have devoted all my care to her — "

[" Except what you gave to the Seven Per Cent.
Invcstinont Conpany," thought Balfour.]

"Slie woulti implicitly trust her affairs in my
hands — "'

[" And prove herself a bigger fool than I took
her to be," thought this mean-spirited Scotch-
man.]

Lord Willowby, indeed, seemed to wake up
again. Two thousand pounds a year was ample
pin-money. He had no sympathy witli the ex-
travagant habits 01 some women. And as Syl-
via's natural guardian, it would be his business
to advise her as to the proper investment.

" My dear lord," cried Balfour, quite cheerful-
ly, "there won't be the slightest trouble about
that; for, of course, I shall be the other trustee."

The light on Lord Willowby's worn and sunk-
en face suddenly vanished. But he remained
very polite to his future son-in-law, and he even
lit another cig rette to keep him company.

CHAPTER Vin.

UISLBADING LIGHTS.

The two or three anys Balfour now spent at
Willowby Hall formed a beautiful, idle, idyllic pe-
riod not soon to be forgotten either by him or by the
tender-natured girl to whom he had just become
engaged. Lord Willowby left them pretty much
to themselves. They rode over the great dark
heath, startling the rabbits ; or drove along the
wooded lanes, under shelter of the elms and limes ;
or walked through the long grass and buttercups
of the park ; or, in the evening, paced up and down
that stone terrace, waiting for the first notes of
the nightingale. It was a time for glad and wist-
ful dreams, for tender self-confessions, and — what
is more to the purpose — for the formation of per-
fectly ridiculous estimates of each other's charac-
ter, tastes, and habits. This roan, for example,
who was naturally somewhat severe and exacting
in his judgments, who was implacable in hip con-
tempt for meanness, hypocrisy, and pretense, and

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY,

who was JiiRt a trifle too bittiT and pluiii-Hpokcn
ill (.•ipri'HHiii); that (.'oiiteiiipt, had now ^niwn won-
dvrtiilly (joiiniJfratu to all luuiiaii fraiUivH, ^entlu
ill jiiil^nieiit, iiihI f;ou(l-natiiriM| in Hpi-euh. lie did
not at till uDii^idt'i- it iiuoi'Msiiry to toll hur what hu
thuii^lit ol' liiT fiithiT. illM tlurc'U virtue did not

f)ri'vi'iit his pi'oini^^iii;; to dine with huf iiiiclu. And
10 did not liinoy thai ho hiiiiHolf wuh Kuilty of nny
fi^ronn hv|i'ioi'i.-v in pi'otvndin)< tobu iiiiiiii'iMoly iii-
tc'i'L'rttod in Mil' foodiiiK of piffooiiM, tliu wucding of
ilowtti' hi'd.'-, llio I'oi'ordH of loual oriokot-inatolioi*,
and llio iiii'ili'Ciiiiiiii)} vitiit of the blHhop.

Diii'in^' iliii.c pk'usant duyH they hud talked, ag
lovers will ol' the nocesMity of abaohito oonHdeiice
bt'twirn wwoolhoiirt and mveotheart, between hus-
band and wife. To (;uard a^aiiiHt tlie sad inisini-
doistundiii);.-* of life, they would always be explicit-
ly frank with eaeh other, whatever ha|)pened. Hut
then, if you had reproaelicd lialfour with ooneoal-
ill); from his betrotlied his opinion of certain of
tier rolatiiiiis, he would probaiily have demanded in
liis turn wliat absolute eoiiHdenee was? Would
life be tolerable if every tiling wore to bu spoken V
A man comes home in the evening;: he has lust his
lawsuit — things have been bad in the City — per-
Imps he has been walkin){ all day in u pair of
ti^lit boots : anyhow, lie is tired, irri(al)le, impa-
tient. His wile meets him, and before letting
Iiim sit down for a moment, will hurry him olT to
the nursery to show him the wonderful drawings
Adolphiis has drawn on the wall. If he is abso-
lutely frank, he will exclaim, " Oh, get away ! You
and your children arc a thorough nuisance !" That
would be frankness : al)Rolute conlidencc could go
no further, lint the husband is not such a fool
— he is not so soUishly cruel — as to say any thing
of the kind. He goes off to get anotiier pair of
shoes; be sits down to dinner, perlia|)S a trifle
silent; but by-and-by he recovers his eciuanimity,
he begiua to look at the bri<;liter side of things,
and is presently heard to declare that he is (piite
Hure that boy has something of the artist in liim,
and that it is no wonder his mother takes such a
pride in him, for he is the most iotelligent child —
etc.

Moreover, it was natural in the circumstunces
for Balfour to be unusually gentle and concilia-
tory. He was proud and pleased ; it would hiive
been strange if this new sense of happiness had
not made him a little generous in his judgments
of others. He was not consciously acting a part ;
but then every young man must necessarily wish
to make of himself something of a hero in the
eyes of his betrothed. Nor was she consciously
acting a part when she impressed on him the con-
viction that all her aspirations and ambitions
were connected with public life. Each was try-
ing to please the other ; and each was apt to see
in the other what he and she desired to see there.
To put the case in as short a form as may be:
here was a gii'l whose whole nature was steeped
in Tennyson, and here was a young man who had
a profound admiration for Thackeray. But when,
under the shadow of the great elms, in the still-
ness of these summer days, he read to her pas-
sagos from " Maud," he declared that existence
had nothing further to give than that ; while she,
for hc.v part, was eager to have him tell her of the
squabbles and intrigues of Parliamentary life, and
expressed her settled belief that Vavifi/ Fair was
the clevei'est book in the whole world.

On the morning of the day on which ho was to

Stntitu iininiK

. Ill

ng'

leave, ho brought down to the brealtfatt-rooin
newspaper. He laughed ti he handed it to hvr

Thi« wu a copjr of the Ballinateroon
which contained not only an account of the ii
tervicw between Mr. Balfour, M.P., and a depui
tioii from his comitituents, but also a loading ii
tide on that ovunt. The Jiallimucro&n Smtini
waxed eloquent over tho matter. The Memlx
for BallinaHcroon was "a renegade Hcotchroai
whose countrymen were ashamed to send him t
Parliament, and who had had the audacity to ai
cept the representation of an Irish borough, whit
\u\il been grossly betrayed and insulted as the n
ward for its mistaken generosity." There was
good deal more of the same sort of thing; it
not much novelty for Balfour.

But it was new to Lady Sylvia, it was wii
flashing eyes and a crimsoned cheek that h
rose and carried the newspaper to her fathoi
who was standing at the window, Lord Willui
by merely looked down the column, and smiled

" Balfour is accustomed to it," said he,

" But is it fair, is it sufTorable," she said, wii
that hot indignation still in her face, " that an
one should have to grow accustomed to sui
treatment y Is tiiis the reward in store for a ma
who spends his life in the jiublie service? Tli
writer of that shameful attack ought to bo pro
edited ; he ought to be flned and imprisoned. ,
I were a man, I would horsewhip him, and I ii
sure ho would run away fast enough."

"Oh no. Lady Sylvia," said Balfour, though 1:
heart warmed to the girl for that generous c
poiisal of ids cause. " Vou must remember tli
he is smarting under the wrongs of Ireland, (
rather the wrongs of Ballinascroon. I dare sa
if I were a leading man in a borough, I shou
not like to have the member representing
borough simply making a fool of it, I can
the joke of the situation, although I am a Scoti'
man ; but you can't expect the people in the bo
oiigli to see it. And if my friend the editor
warm language, you see that is how he earns li
bread. 1 have no doubt he is ■» very good so
of fellow. 1 have no doubt, when they kick n
out of Ballinascroon, and if I can get in for son
other place, I shall meet him down at Wc!
minster, and ho will have no hesitation at all
asking me to help to get h.., son the Uovcrno
ship of Timbuctoo, or'Sonie such post."

Was not this generous? she said to hersvl
He might have exacted damages from this pa
man. Perhaps he might have had him impri
oned and sent to the tread-mill. But no. The
was no malice in his nature, no anxious vanit
no sentiment of revenge. Lady Sylvia's was ii
the only case in which it miglit have been i
marked that the most ordinary qualities of pi
dence or indiiTcrcnce exhibited by a young
become, in the eyes of the young man's
heart, proof of a forbearance, a charity, a
ness, altogether heroic and sublime.

Her mother having died when she was a mc
child. Lady Sylvia had known scarcely any gri
more serious than the loss of a pet canary, or
withering of a favorite flower. Her father prof e
ed an elaborate phraseological love for her, ai
he was undoubtedly fond of his only child ; b
he also dearly liked his personal liberty, and
had from her earliest years accustomed her
bid him good-by without much display of
tion on either side. But now, on this momiog,

kixil forwa

1 -xeiiK'' of
ba«k

town with
ir life tho i
iiuvthing ah
" Sylvia," H
() the wagi
is morning.
She started
lu hoped tl
wn merely

to Mr. Bal
It meet on t

Ho, as thoy
IS quite unu
;er the seri
used to t(
d to see he
ive through
ii'its.

And she w
r she kept
'/( up. It w
irrre to ice n

inc.
"Sylvia," si

no for a ni

II?"

" Yos," said

" llow oftei

1— I don't
" Would it I
iiiing?"
"Oh," she H
lie to mo .so
I must be.
r way, now

I iiiiist pro

1 will pi'ii

liiind to
Ii you shiil
nl tho lioiK
lliiiiisoroon.
riio train
to his 1
r heart wn>
■^11! con((uo
I people ab
liy's daugl
fCiiished pe

was prett;
ooii deal o
ly Lady S3
1 to a gent
St; and tl
tndly smile
car
there

was bein;
>ded coiml
der, dark
iuus mem
It was
lething ne
se of lonel
rt yeamir
ly — was a
light with
en ioning an)

_ nifl tieiilar 1
BWCC iut
goo

•ti

in.

OREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLT.

reakf«it-roon)

tndcd it to h«r

atcroon SmlvJ^mwtn ba«k alone

cuunt of the i

',, and a dopu

Imo a leading ti

iMcroon Senti

nvRffi h<>avln(^Rii of hear* iMMMRMd her. She

okwd forward to that drive t«> the itation with a

III! t«iiit'3 of foreboding; nhe thought of hereulf

for her father waa going up

town with Halfotir — and for the tiiiit time in

r life the solitude of the Hall acemed to her

)roi>tliing i*he could not bear.

Sylvia," Haid her father, when they had all got

The MembAto the wagonette, " you don't look very bright

;adc Scotchnia#iH morning."

Slii> i*tarted,and fluHhed with an anxious ahnmc.

I! iiiiduvity to aMie hoped they would not think she was ciut

borough, whic >wn merely becauHe she was going to bid good-

t to Mr. Balfour for a few duvH. Would they

It meet on the following Wednesday at her un>

of thing; itiu l'xV

Ho, as they drovo over to the station, the girl
it was wiilftH quite unuHually gay and cheerful. Khe was no
check that h\ rifterthoseriouHSyllubus whom her cousin John-
r to her fiitliei ' uitod to tcoHo into petulance. Balfour was
Lord Willot ml to sec her looking so bright ; doubtless tho
mn, and smiled Ivo through the sweet fresh air hud raised her
• Hiiitl he. liitH.

e," hIic Ritid, wii And she was equally cheerful in the station ;
r face, "that an r Hlie kept saying to herself, "/Tw/i up now.

iixlomcd to siK
II store for a ma
ic service V T
ought to bo pro
1 imprisoned,
ip him, and I i
ough."

ilfotir, though li
that generous c
wt remember tin
tigs of Ireland, (
oon. I dare hu
borough, I shoui

y) «/>. It M onlii Jive minuteit mm. And, oh ! if
urn to ue me cry — the lea»l bit — /should die of
ame,"

".*<_vlvin," said ho, when they happened to bo
^iic for a moment, " I suppose I may write to

liesitutioii at all
son the Govcriio
eh post."

;e8 from this poi
a had liim impri

" Yes," soid whe, timidly,
"llow often?"
I — I don't know," .onid .«lie, looking down.
Would it bother you if you had a letter every
lining?"

'•Oil," nlie snid, " you could never s<pnrp time to
(' to me so often os tlmt. I know how busy
representing tlBi must be. You niuit not let mo interfere in
of it. I can «( y «'iiy, now or nt any time, with your real work,
igh I am a Scotc m must promise tlmt to me."

I will promise tills to you," said ho, taking
lid the editor iisB' liunil to liid her f;i)oil-l)y, "tli:it my relations
I how he earns li

ill you sliiiil never interfere with my duties to-

» very good so nl tlie hononil)l(' iiml independent electors of

dicn tliey kick n llliiiiscioon. Will tlmt (lof"

an get in for son I'lie tniin eiime up. She diired not raise her

n down at Wesp's to his fuee as she sliook hands with him.

leiirt was beiitinjr liuiTiedly.

-< II! eon(|uered, iievertlieless. There wore sov-

I people about the station who knew Lord Wil

IC t$uid to hersei 'liy's daugliter; and as she was rather a dis-

^'uislied person in that neighborhood, and as
was pretty and prettily dressed, she attracted

But no. The ood deal of notice. But what did they see ?

ly Lady Sylvia bidding good-by to her papa

1 to a gentleman who had doubtless been his

;;iit have been i ^st ; and there was nothing but a bright and

no anxious vanit
ly Sylvia's was ii

y qualities of pr

li by a young ini ticular carriage in the receding train.

)ung man's bwuc

a charity, a goo

>lime.

en she was a mc

lis only child ; b
nal liberty, and '
accustomed her

ndiv smile in her face as she looked after that

iut there was no smile at all in her face as

was being driven back through the still and

[xled country to the empty Hall. The large,

der, dark gray eyes were full of trouble and

scarcely any gii liuus memories ; her heart was heavy within

pet canary, or tl . It was her first sorrow ; and there was

Her father prof ei lething new, alarming, awful about it. This

I love for her, ai se of loneliness— of being left— of having her

rt yearning after something that had gone

ly — was a new experience altogether, and it

ught with it strange tremors of unrest and un-

:h display of en soning anxiety,
on this momiogi

8ho hiid often read in books that tlic best cure
for care was hard work ; and as stMin as she got
back to the Hall Mhe set busily aliout the fulfl'l-
inent of her dailv luties. She f-uud, howeviT,
but little relief, riie calm of mind and of <h'cu-
pution had fled fi um lier. She was iigititted by
all manner of thoughts, fancies, 8unni>i'H, that
would not let her lie In peace.

Tliat letter of the next morning, for example,
she would havn to answer it. But how y Sho
went to. her own little sitting-riNim and securely
locked the door, and sat down to her desk. Sho
stared at the blank paper for several minutes be-
fore she dared to place sny thing on it ; and it
was with a trembling hand that she traced out
tho words, " Dmr Mr. liatfoui:" Then she pon-
dered for a long time on wliat slie should say tn
him — a difHcuit matter to decide, seeing she haii
not as yet received the letter which ►he wislied
to onswer. She wrote, " J/y drur Mr. Jkl/ntir,"
and looked at that. Then she wrote, wl'ili her

hand trembling more than ever, " Jhar J/ ,"

but she got no further tiutn that, for some lush
of color mounted to her face, and i^hc fMiI'lenly
resolved to go and see tlie head ganlener .ilioiit
the new geruniiims. Before leaving the n.om,
however, siic tore up the sheet of paper into very
small pieces.

Now the head gardener was a soured and dis-
appointed man. The whole place, he considered,
was starved ; such flowers as lie had, noiiody eaiiio
to see; while Lord Willowby had an ama/ingly
accurate notion of tlie amount wlilcli the sale of
tho fruit of each year ought to liring. He was
curt of speech, and resented interfeience. On
this occasion, moreover, he wiis in an III liunior.
Hut to Ills intense surprise ills young mislress
was not to be beaten olt by short answers. Was
lier ladyship in an ill humor too? Aiivliow, sho
very qiiiekly brought him to his senses; ami one
good issue <if tlint day'.x worry was tliat old HIako
was a great deal more civil to Lady .Sylvia ever
after.

"You know, Blake," said she, firmly, "you
Yorkshire people are said to lie a little too sliarp
with your tongue sometimes."

" I do not know, my lady," said the old man,
with great exasjieration, " wliy tho peo[ile will go
on saying I am from Yorkshire. If I liave lived
in a stiihio, I am not a hoarse. I am sure i liavo
telled your ladyship I was bourn in Dumfri(!s."

" Indeed you have, Blake," said Lady Sylvia,
with a singular cliange of manner. " Really I
had quite forgotten. I tliink you said you left
Scotland when you were a lad ; but of course y^u
claim to be Scotch. That is quite right."

She had become very friendly. She sat down
on some wooden steps beside liim, and regarded
his work with quite a new interest.

" It is a fine country, is it not ?" said she, in a
conciliatory tone.

" We had better crops where I was born .'han
ye get about the sandy wastes here," said the old
man, gruffly.

" I did not mean that quite," said Lady Sylvia,
patiently ; " I meant that the country genera../
\^a8 a noble country — its magnificent mountains
and valleys, its beautiful lakes and islands, you
know,"

Blake shrugged his shoulders. Scenery wtB
for fine ladies to talk about.

" Then the character of the people," said Lady

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

Sylvia, nothing daunted, " has always been so no-
ble iind independent. Look how they have fought
fur their liberties, civil and religious. Look ut
their enterprise — they are to be found uU over
the globe — the first pioneers of civilization — "

"Ay, and it isn't much that some of them
make by it," said Blake, sulkily ; for this pioneer
certainly considered that he had been hardly
used in these alien and unenlightened regions.

" I don't wonder, Blake," said Lady Sylvia, in a
kindly way, " that you should be proud of being
a Scotchman. Of course you know all about the
Covenanters."

" Ay, your ladyship," said Blake, still going on
with his work.

" I dure say you know," said Laily Sylvia, more
timidly, "that one of the most unflinching of them
—one of the grandest figures in that fight for
freedom of worship — was called Balfour."

She blushed as she pronounced the name ; but
Blake was busy with his plants.

"Ay, youi' ladyship. I wonder whether that
man is ever going to send the wire-netting."

" I will take care you shall have it at once,"
said Lady Sylvia, as she rose and went to the
door. " if we don't have it by to-morrow night,
I will send to London for it. Good-morning,
Bhke."

Blake grunted out something in reply, and was
glad to be left to his own meditations. But even
this shrewd senii-Sootchman seml-Yorkshireman
could not make out why his mistress, after shew-
ing a bit of a temper, and undoubtedly getting
the better of him, should ao suddenly have become
friendly and conciliatory. And what could her
ladyship mean by coming and talking to her gar-
dener about the Covenanters ?
• That first day of absence was a lonely and
miserable day for Lady Sylvia. She spent th ;
best part of the afternoon in her father's libiary,
hunting out the lives of great statesmen, and
anxiously trying to discover particulars about the
wives of those distinguished men — how they
qualified themselves for the fulfillment of their
serious duties, how they best forwarded their
husbands' interests, and so forth, and so forth.
But somehow, in the evening, other fancies be-
set her. The time that Balfour had spent at
Willowby Hall had been very pleasant for her ;
and as her real nature asserted itself, she began
to wish that that time could have lasted forever.
That would have been a more delightful prospect
for her than the anxieties of a public life. Nay,
more ; as this feeling deepened, she began lo look
on the conditions of public life as so many rivals
that had already inflicted on her this first mis-
erable day of existence by robbing her of her
lover. She began to lose her enthusiasm about
grateful constituencies, triumphant majorities
carrying great measures through every stage, the
Katiunal thanksgiving awarded to the wearied
statesman. It may seem absurd to say that a
girl of eighteen should begin to harbor a feeling
of bitter jealousy against the British House of
Commons, but stranger things than that have
happened in the history of the human heart.

CHAPTER IX.
love's trials.

he never h
oilette and
jady Sylvia

"Susan," said Master Johnny BIythe, to hi fetkV— it

sister — her name was Honoria, and therefore b

called her Susan — " you have got yourself up m

common smart to-night. I see how it is. Yoi •»' re-readii

girls are all alike. As soon as one of you catch lOi'don, unt

es a fellow, you won't let him alone ; you're al '"•'^<^ precio

for iiulling him off; you're like a lot of sparrow

V, ith one bit of bread among you."

"I don't know what you are talking about,'
said Miss Honoria, with proud indifference.

'Oh yes, you do," retorted Johnny, regardinj *''"-'•■ wo|dd

himself in a mirror, and adjusting his white tie

orcover, wli
Kit perilous
tinin.-iter
ut on som.-'

"You don't catch a man like Balfour stopping le people, a
down at Wil'owby three whole days in the mid "'"*'" their
die of the session, and all for nothing. Then ii ''"' election
was from Willowby he telegraphed he would corai
here to-night, after he had refused. Well, I won
der at poor old Syllabus ; I thought she was i
cut above a tea-and-coffee fellow. I suppose it'i
his £30,000 a year ; at least it would be in youi •' i""'* Ju''^'
case, Susan. Oh, I know. I know when yoi
part your hair at the side you mean mischief
And so we shall have a battle-royal to-night-
Susan V. Syllabus — and all about a grocer !"

Those brothers! The young lady whom Mas > herself the
ter Johnny treated with so much familiarity am ^^^^y f'ecnuL
disrespect was of an appearance to drive the fan ' ""d "■ I""''
cies of a young man mad. She was tall and slen
der and stately ; though she was just over seven
teen, there was something almost mature am nn'slied lioi
womanly in her presence; she had large daili iHi'wbyaiu
eyes, heavy-lidded ; big masses of black haii '' ■'" *''''.v w
tightly braided up behind to show her shapelj iidaied scai
neck ; a face such as Lely would have painted •'■'* being et

but younger and fresher and pinker; a chii "' became \

somewhat too full, but round with the soft con

tour of girlhood. She was certainly very nnlik

her cousin both in appearance and expression

Lady Sylvia's eyes were pensive and serious ; thii

young woman's were full of practical life am ■"! I'-i'l *-'■''

audacity. Lady Sylvia's under lip retreated some "ids with tl

what, and gave a sweet, shy, sensitive look to tin

rangers i)ri

fine face; whereas Honoria Blythe's under lip imnionplae

re dinner, i

id it was till

lattorof Mat

already ad

was full and round and ripe as a cherry, and wm
in fit accordance with her frank and even bole
black eye.

Mrs. BIythe came into the drawing-room. Sh
was a large and portly per.son, jmle, with paintei itcrprise, ar
eyelashes and unnaturally yellow hair. Low "-'■''-' ^^''i** ^
Willowby had no great liking for his sister-in

law; he would not allow Sylvia to go on a visii ' merely di

to her ; when he and his dini^rliter came to town

as on the present oceasioii, tliey stopped at a pii

vate hotel i'l Arlington Sticet. Finally, the head

of the house made his appoii ranee, Major Blytlu ipai'ditly Ii

had all the physique that his elder brother. Lord '""l a '"'"t

Willowby, lacked. He was stout and roseate oi otsteps on

face, bald for the most part, iiis eves a trifle
blood-shot, and his hand ineliiied to bo unsteady,
except when ho was playing pool. He wore dia-
mond studs; he said "by <iad ;" and he wai 'herasif;-
hotly convinced that Arthur Orton, who was then ""-' "" ""d
being tried, was not Arthur Orton at all, but 'stess. Bii
i>»»n» T:^i.K.^n..A ij» .....^.i. /..» *i.A ....... ...^.fl " How do

Roger Tichborne. So much for the youugei
branch of the BIythe family.

As for the elder branch. Lord Willowby was al
that moment seated in an easy-chair iu e room ii
Arlington Street, reading the evening paper, wliili
hia daughter was iu h«r own room, anxious ni

,s that porti
onieliow, sh

raven on hi
uii with he
louse of Coi
ohle institu

uuld go inti

ipi'ise.
And now
vat dread pi
si'over her s

le sliaiiic of
Tile Bivthi

)t there. St

lemed to he

ixioiis, pert

y on the p

IV accident

ic forgot th
y evenings

She was sti

r heart be;
ilfour. II(
Now Balfo

! stopped a
She never
I the floor,
aeed her t
d murmur

he never had been anxious before about her
oilettc uud the services of the faithful Anue.
iaJy Sylvia had spent a miserable week. A
V Blvthe to hi ''-'*-''' ^ — '' seemed a thousand years rather ; and

and tlierefore h
t yourself up ud
iiow it is. Yoi
>ne of you catch
done; you're al
II lot of sparrow

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

talking about,'
ulifference.
jhnny, regardini
ng his white tie
Balfour stoppin;
days in the mid
othing. Then il
sd he would conii
id. Well, I won
)ught she was i
I suppose it'i

a that |)ortentous period had to be got through
uniehow, she had mostly devoted it to reading
11(1 re-reading six letters she had received from
iondoii, until every i)hruse and every word of
hose precious and secret documents was on-
raven on her memory. She had begun to rea-
ou with herself, too, about her hatred of the
luuse of Commons. She tried hard to love that
(ihle institution ; she was quite sure, if only her

an intinite relief when he went on toward Mrs.
Blythe.

She was glad, too, when she saw that he was to
take his hostess in to dinner. Had they heard of
this secret, might they not, as a sort of blunder-
ing coinplimcnt, have asked him to take her in ?
As it was, she fell to the lot of a German gentle-
man, who knew very little English, and was anx-
ious to practice what little he knew, but who very
soon gave up the attempt on finding his companion
about tlie most silent and reserved person whom
he had ever sat next at dinner. He was puzzled,
indeed. She was an earl's daughter, and presum-

[ither would take her over to Ballinascroon, she j ably had -seen something of society. She had a

ivould be in youi •'•'i'JUs dangers and discomforts of that wild en-

know when yon
, mean misthicf
-royal to-night-
t a grocer 1"

•rpnsc.
\iid now she was about to meet him, and a
at dread possessed her lest her relatives should

iscovcr her secret. Again and again she pictured

h familiarity an(

was tall and slcn
I, just over seven
lost mature am

had large dark
s of black hall
how her shape
lid have painted

pinker; a chii
i'ith the soft con
ainly very unlili

and expression

ould go into every house, and shake hands with
le people, ^md persuade tlicni to let Mr. Balfour
main their representative when the next geu-
al election came round ; and slie wondered,
loreover, whether, when her lover went away on
uit perilous mission of his through the slums of
k't'stiniiister, she could not too, as well as he,
lit on soiii.-' mean attire, and share with him the

ladv whom Mas ' lierself the forth-eoniiiig interview, and her only

ilVty seemed to be in preserving a cold demean-

! to drive the fan ' ""^ '^ pertoct .-iiience, so that she should escape

iwing-room. Sh^
)nlc, with painte

aiae of being suspected
The lilythes lived in a small and rather poorly
iniislied house in Dean Street, Park Lane; Lord
illowby and his daughter had not far to drive.
h^ii they went into the drawing-room. Lady Syl-
uiaied scarcely look around ; it was only as she
;is being effusively welcomed by her aunt that
10 became vaguely aware that Mr. Balfour was
jt there. Strange as it may ai)pear, his absence
eiiied to her a quick and glad relief. She was
ixious, perturbed, eager to escape from a scru-
and serious • thii '." o" '''*^ P'"''' "^ 1"^'' I'elatives, which : he more
oraetical life' aiic *'^ half expected. But when she had sliakcii
ip retreated some ""^^ ^^'i^'' them all, and when the two or tliree
isitive look to t'.i< rangers present began to talk those staccato
Ivthe's under lip munonplaces which break the frigid silence be-
a ehcrrv and was i'*^ dinner, she was in a measure left to herself ; ipei
ik and "even bold "^ '' ""** ^'"^'^ t''"'^ — •'*>'■ heeding in the least the liundred guinea?
uitterof Master Johnny — she began to fear. Had
! already adventured on that Ilaroun-al-Haschid
iterprise, and been stopped by a gang of tliievesV
ilow hair. Low lere was a great outcry at tliis time about rail-
for his sister-ill- ^Y accidents; was it possible that — Or was
I to CO on a visit ' merely detained at the House of Commons ?
tor came to town '" foi'got that the House does not sit on Wednes-
stopped at a pri '-V evenings.

Finally the head ^"^ "'"^ standing near the entrance to the room,
ice. Major Blvthe iparcntly listening to Master Johnny, when she
der brother Loi-d '"'''l * kiiotk at the door below. Tlien slie heard
lilt and roseate of ot''fe))s on the narrow staircase which made
ills eves a tride "" heart beat. Then a servant announced Mr
!d to bo unsteady, »lf"U'"- Her eyes were downcast
ol. He wore dia- ^"^^ Balfour, as he came in, ought to have pass-
id •" and he wai ''*■''" '** if she had been a perfect stranger, and
ton who was then '"f on and addressed himself, iirst of all, to his
Orton at all, bu#st?£-s "■' ' " "" ••"=■- -' '"■ ■ '=•■ ■

for the youugei

But he did nothing of the kind.

pale, interesting, beautiful face and thoughtful
eyes; she must have received enough attention in
her time. Was she too proud, then, he thought,
to bother with his broken phrases y

The fact was, that tliroughout that dinner the
girl had eyes and ears but for one small group of
people — her cousin and Balfour, who were sitting
at the further corner of the table, ajiparently
much interested in each other. If Lady Sylvia
was silent, the charge could not be brought against
Ilonoria Blythe. That young lady was as glib a
chatterer as her brotlier. She knew every thing
that was going on. With the bright audacity of
seventeen, she gossiped and laughed, and address-
ed merry or deprecating glances to her compan-
ion, who sat and allowed himself to be amused
with much good-humored couiiiess. What were
poor Sylvia's serious efforts to attain some knowl-
edge of public affairs compared with this tliieiit
familiarity which touched upon every thing at
home and abroad ? Sylvia had tried to get iit the
rights and wrongs of a ((uestion then being talked
about — tlie propriety of allowing laymen to preach
in Church of England pulpits : now she heard her
cousin treat the whole affair as a joke. Tliere
was nothing that that young lady did not know
something about; and she chatted on with an
artless vivacity, sometimes making fun, sometimes
gravely appealing to him for information. Had
he heard of the old lady wlio became insane in
the Horticultural Gardens yesterday V Of course
he was going to Christie's to-morrow; they ex-
ected that big landscape would fetch twelve
What a shame it was for Lim-
erick to treat Lord and Lady Spencer so! She
positively adored Mr. I'limsoll. What icoiild peo-
ple say if the Shah did really bring three of his
wives to England, and would they all go about
with him ?

Poor Sylvia listened, and grew sick at heart.
Was not this the sort of girl to interest and amuse
a man, to cheer him when he was fatigued, to en-
ter into all his projects and understand him?
Was slie not strikingly handsome, too, this tall
girl with the heavy-lidded eyes and the clierry
mouth and the full round chin curving in to the
shapely neck? She admitted all these things to
herself; but she did not love her cousin any the
more. She grew to think it shameful that a young
girl should make eyes at a man like that. Was
she not calling the attention of the whole table to
herself and to him ? Her talking, her laughing,

"How do you do, Lady Sylvia?" said he, and i tlie appealing glances of those audacious black

! stopped and shook hands with her.

1 Willowbv was »t ^^^ never saw him at all. Her eyes were fixed

chair iu o.room it ' ^'"-' floor, and she did not raise them. But she

ening paper whilt?*'*'' '"^'' fumbling hand in his for a moment,

room anxious aiH''^ murmured something, and then experienced

eyes — all these things sank deeper and deeper
into the heart of one silent observer, who did not
seem to be enjoying herself much.

As for Balfour, he was obviously amused, and
doubtless he was pleased at the flattering attcn<

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

tion which this fascinating young lady paid him.
He had found himself seated next her by acci-
dent; but as she was apparently so anxious to
talk to him, he could not well do otherwise than
neglect (as Lady Sylvia thought) Mrs. Blythe,
whom he had actually tak(;i) in to dinner. And
was it not clear, too, that he spoke in a lower
voice than she did, as though he would limit their
convei'sation to themselves? Wliuii she asked
him to tell them all that was thought among po-
litical folks of tlic radical victories at the French
elections, why should he address the answer to
herself alone ? And was it not too bhamcless of
this girl — at least so Lady Sylvia thought — who
ought to have been at school, to go on pretending
that she was greatly interested in General Dor-
regaray, the King of Sweden, and such persons,
merely tiiat she should show off her knowledge
to an absolute straiigor?

Lady Sylvia sat tlicrc, with a sense of wrong
and humiliation burning into her heart. Not
once, during the whole of that dinner, did he ad-
dress a single word to her ; not once did he even
look toward Iter. All his attention was monopo-
lized by that bold girl who sat beside him. And
this was the man who, but a few daj-s before, had
been pretending that he cared for nothing in
the world so much as a walk through Willowl)y
Park with the mistress thereof; who had then no
thought for any thing but herself, no words or
looks for any one but her.

Lady Sylvia was seated near the door, and when
the lailies left the room, she was one of the first
to g(». Von would not have imagined that inidcr-
neitli that sweet and gracious carriage, which
cliarr.ii.'d all beholders except one ungrateful
young man, there was luirniug a fierce lii'o of
wrong anil shame aiul indignation. She walked
into the drawing-room, and went into a further
corner, and took a book — on the open pa.;^'. ;)f
which siie did not see a single word.

Tiio men came in. IJaU'our went over, and
took a seat l)eside her.

" Well, Sylvia," said he, liglitly, " I suppose you
won't stay here long. I am anxious to introduce j

you to Lady ; and tliere is to be a whole batch

of Indian or AtfTiian princes there to-night — their i
costumes make such a ditferenco in a room. When |
do you think you will go?"

She hesitated ; her heart was full ; had they
been alone, she would probably have bni-st into
tears. As it was, he never got any answer to his
question. A tall young lady came sweeping by
at the moment.

" Mr. Balfour," she said, with a sweet smile,
" will you open the piano for me ?"

And again Lady Sylvia sat alone and watched
the.se two. He stood i)y the side of the piano as
the long tapering fingers — Honoiia had beauti-
fully formed hands, every one admitted — began
to wander over the keys ; and the dreamy music
that i)egan to fill the silence of the room seemed
to lend something of imagination and pathos to a
face that otherwise had little in it beyond merely
physical beauty. She played well too ; with perfect
self-possession ; her touch was light, and on these
dreamy passages there was a rippling as of fall-
ing water in some enchanted cave. Then down
went both hands with a crash on the keys ; all
the air seemed full of cannonading and musketry
fire ; her finely formed bust seemed to have the
delight of physical exercise in it as those tightly

sleeved and shapely arms banged this way and
that ; those beautiful lips were parted somewhat
with her breathing. Lady S}lvia did not think
much of her cousin's playing. It was coarse,
theatrical, all for display. But she had to con-
fess to herself that Honoria was a beautiful girl,
who promised to become a beautiful woman ; and
what wonder, therefore, if men were glad to re-
gard her, now as she sat upright there, with the
fire and passion of her playing lending something
of heroism and inspiration to her face t

That men should: yes, that was right enough;
but that this one man should — that was the bit
ter thing. Surely he had not forgotten that it
was but one week since she had assigned over to
him the keeping of her whole life ; and was this
the fashion in which he was showing his grati-
tude ? She had looked forward to this one even.
ing with many happy fancies. She would see
him ; one look would confirm the secret between
them. All the torturing anxieties of absence
woidd be banished so soon as she could rc-assnre
her.self by hearing his voice, by feeling the press-
ure of his hand. She had thought and dreameij
of this evening in the still woodland ways, tnitil
her heart beat rapidly with a sense of her com-
ing hiipjiiness; and now this disappointment wu)
too bitter. She could not bear it.

She went over to her father.

" Papa," she said, " I wi.sh to go. Don't let
me take you ; I can get to the hotel by myself — '

(bat coold
was a bitti
when the n
mle and tii
leautiful, s
bat she sfa
WiUowbyE

len

".Mv liear child," said he, with a stare, "I le and Ann

BALromi

rd VVillo«

lidding him

still whe

,ext mornin

"What ii
mazement.

"You ouf
I can not t
ad some qu

"A quarn
bether his
im.

"Well," 81
)n't know,
lough I knc
)ing to Lad,
g would do

Oh, this i
id Balfour.
ust be clea
why, shall '
u will be b
Lord Willo

thought you jjartictdarly wanted to go to

House, after what Balfour told you about tli(
staircase and the llowers-

" I — I have a headache," said the girl. " I am
tireil. Please let me go by myself, papa."

"Not at all, child," said" he." " I will go when
ever you like."

Then she besought him not to draw attentioi
to their going. She woidd privately bid good
night to Mrs. Hlythe; to no one else. If he cam
out a couple of seconds after she left the room
he would find her waiting.

" Y<iii must ^ay good-l)y to Balfoiu'," said Loii
Willowl)y ; " he will be dreadfully disa])|)ointe(l.'
r " I doti't think it is necessary," said I^ady Sd
via, coldh'. " He is too nnich engaged — he won'
notice our going."

Fortunately their carriage had been ordenn
early, and they had no difliculty in getting bail
to the hotel. On the way Lady Sylvia did no
utter a word.

"I will bid yon good-night now, papa," sai
she, as soon as they had arrived.

He paused for a moment, and looked at her.

" Sylvia," said he, with some concern, " yo
look really ill. What is the matter with you V"

" Nothing," she saiil. " I am tired a little, an
I have a headache. Good-night, papa."

She went to her own room, but not to slecj
She declined the attentions of her maid, and lock
ed herself in. Then she took out a small pack( "owby, wit
of letters. » don't k

Were these written by the same man ? Sh ^^tly looki
read, and wondered, with her heart growing son '* there ii
and sorer, until a mist of tears came over 1h Ameno*:
ej'cs, and she could see no more. And then, Ik '•"'K *■' '
grief Incoming more passionate, she threw he f"> o TO
self on the bed, and burst into a ^\ild fit of cryin '"S 'h«' hei
and sotibing, the letters being clutched in li O'lW Jo ai
hand as if they, at least, were one posseesio

dragged
patient lov(
no to ingra
icn they di
ill improve

and anxic
rt of his s
rd Willowl
I to have
king more
It in the c(
should

which
wealth ?
pie, how CO
this project
IS of New
fas a certi
w York wo
I land for tl
■lid bo enor
I heard
tly.
'Well.wha

OBEEN PASTURES AND PICOADILLT.

this way and
ted somewhat
did not tliiuk
t was coarse,
le had to con-
beautiful girl,
il woman ; and
jre glad to re-
there, with the
ling Homething
lacey

I right enough ;
at was the bit-
rgottcn that itl
ssigned over to]
; and was tliia
iwing his graii-

this one even-
Hhe would seel
secret between
ies of absence

1 could re-asstire]
jcling the prePS-
lit and dreamcil
land ways, uiitill
nse of her com-
ppointment was

iiat conld not be token away from her. That
fu a bitter night— never to be forgotten ; and
vhen the next day came, she went down — with a
die and tired face, and with darlc rings under the
beautiful, sad eyes— and demanded of her father
bat she should be allowed at once to return to
f iUowby HaU, her maid alone accompanying her.

CH>J>TEB X.

BIFENTANOB.

BALFOtm was astounded when he learned that

..rd \Villowby and his daughter had left without

lidding him good-by ; and he was more astound-

still when he found, on calling at their hotel

lext morning, that Lady Sylvia had gone home.

"What is the meaning of itV" said he, in

lazement.

"You ought to know," said Lord Willowby.

I can not tell you. I supposed she and you had

lad some quarrel."

"A quarrel!" he cried, beginning to wonder

hcther his reason had not altogether forsaken

im.

" Well," said his lordship, with a shrug, " I

m't know. She would come home last night,

luugh I knew she had been looking forward to

iiig to Lady 's. And, this morning, noth-

g would do but that she must get home at once.

e and Anne started an hour ago."

" Oh, this is monstrous — this is unendurable,"

id Balfour. "There is some mistake, and it

ust be cleared up at once. Come, Lord Wil-

wby, shall we take a run down into Surrey V

m will be back by four or five."

Lord Willowby did not like the notion of be-

g dragged down into Surrey and back by an

patient lover; but he was very anxious at this

' T i\7 j.wf .r.wMB'ie to ingratiate himself with Balfour. And
vaieiv iiiu h""" .u„„ ,i!,i „„, „,.» L„ ti,„,„.i,» i.„ „;..i,t

) go. Don't IcJ
tel by myself — "|
ilh a stave,
lI to go to
1 you about tti(|

the gill. " I an
L'lf, papa."
" I will go when

draw attention

len they did set out, he thought he might as
ill improve the occasion. Balfour was disturb-

and anxious by this strange conduct on the
rt of his sweetheart; and he was grateful to
ird Willowby for so promptly giving hiin his
1 to have the mystery cleared up. He was
king more than usual. What wonder, then.
It in the course of conversation Lord VVillow-

should incidentally allude to the opportiuii-
s which a man of means had of multiplying

wealth ? If he had a few thousands, for ox-
ple, how could he better dispose of them than
this project for the buying of land in the sub-

s of New York ? It was not a speculation ;

as a certainty. In 1880 the population of
w York would be two millions. Tlie value of

land for the building of handsome boulevards

Id be enormously increased. And so forth.

'I heard you were--in that," said Balfour,

ly.
}|Wen, what do you think of it?" said Lord

lowby, with some eagerness.

I don't know," answered the younger man,

ently looking out of the window. " I don't

ik there is any certainty abouu it. I fancy

Americans have been overspending and over-

And then lii *'''^8 *•' f^ome time back. If that land were

ite she threw he 1"° " TO"r hands, and you had to go on

* . incr t\%A lioaw aaaAaamanta thou

else. If ho cam
he left the room

ilfoiiv," said I.di
llv disappointed
k-,"" .«ai(l Lady Sy
igaged— he won'

dd boon ordeiiH

V in getting ba

ily Sylvia did ii'

now, papa," sai|
J.

i looked at her,
lie concern, " yoj
atter with you V"
1 tired a little, an|
it, papa
but not to slec
or maid, and loc
;)ut a small packi

same man? Sti
icart growing son
irs came over hi
•e,

a wild fit of cryii
g clutched in
sre one posseesU

ing the heavy asBesnments they ley out there,
ould JO an uncommonly awkward thing for

" Tou toke rather a gloomy view of things thia
morning," said Lord Willowby, with one of hia
fierce and suddenly vanishing smiles.

" At any rate," said Balfour, with some firm«
ness, " it is a legitimate transaction. If the peo-
ple want the land, they will have to pay your
price for it : that is a fair piece of business. I
wish I could say as much — you will forgive my
frankness — about your Seven per Cent. Invest-
ment Association."

His lordship started. There was an ugly im-
plicatiou in the words. But it was not the first
time be bftd bad to practice patience with thi»
Scotch boor.

" Come, Balfour, you are not going to prophe-
sy evil all round ?"

"Oh no," said the •younger man, carelessly.
" Only I know you can't go on paying seven per
cent. It is quite absui-d."

"My dear fellow, look at the foreign loans
that are paying their eight, ten, twelve per
cent.—"

" I suppose you mean the South American re-
publics."

" Look how we distribute the risk. The fail-
ure of one particular investment might ruin the
individual investor: it scarcely touches the As-
sociation. I consider we are doing an immense
service to all those people throughout the country
who will try to get a high rate of interest for
their money. Leave them to themselves, and
they ruin themselves directly. We step in, and
give them the strength of cc-operation."

"I wish your name did not appear on the
Board of Directors," said Balfour, shortly.

Lord Willowby was not a very sensitive per-
son, but this rudeness caused hi:^ sallow face to
flush somewhat. What, then : must ho look to
the honor of his name now that this sprig of a
merchant — this tradesman — had done him the
honor of proposing to marry into his family?
However, Lord Willowby, it' he had a temper like
other people, had also a great deal of prudence
and self-control, and there were many reasons
why he should not quarrel with this blunt-spoken
young man at present.

They had not remembered to telegraph for the
carriage to meet them ; so they had to take a fly
at the station, and await patiently the slow rum-
bling along the sweetly scented lanes. As they
neared the Hall, Balfour was not a little per-
turbed. This was a new and a strange thing to
him. If the relations between himself and his
recently found sweetheart were liable to be thus
suddenly and occultly cut asunder, what possible
rest or peace was there in store for either ? And
it must be said that of all the conjectures he
made as to the cause of this mischief, not one
got even near the truth.

Lady Sylvia was sent for, and her father dis-
creetly left the young man alone in the drawing-
room. A few minutes afterward the door was
opened. Balfour had been no diligent student
of women's faces ; but even he could tell that the
girl who now stood before him, calm and pale
and silent, had spent a wakeful night, and that
her eyes had been washed with tears ; so that his
first impulse was to go forward and draw her to-
ward him, that he might hear her confession with
his arms around her. But there was something
unmistakably cold and distant in her manner that
forbade his approach.

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLT.

" Sylvia," he cried, " what is all tbia about ?
your father fancies you and I have quarreled."

" No, we have not quarreled," she said, simply ;
but there was a tired look in her eyes. " We
have only misunderstood each other. It is not
worth talking about."

He stared at her in amazement.

"I hear papa outside," she said; "shall we
join him ?"

But this was not to be borne. He went for-
ward, took her two hands firmly in his, and said,
with decision,

" Come, Sylvia, we are not children. I want to
know why you loft last night. I have done my
best to guess at the reason, and I have failed."

" You don't know, then V" she said, turning the
pure, clear, innocent eyes, on his face with a look
tliat had not a little indignation in it. It was
well for him tliat he could meet that straight
look without flinching.

"I give you my word of honor," said he, with
obvious surprise, " that I haven't the remotest
notion in the world as to what all this means."

" It is nothing, then 5"' said she, warmly, and
she was going to proceed with her charge, when
her pride rebelled. She would not speak. She
would not claim that which was not freely given.
Unfortunately, however, when she would fain
have got away, he had a tight grip of her hand ;
and it was clear from the expression on tiiis
man's face that he meant to have uu explanaliun
there and then.

So he held her until she told him the whole
story — the red blood tingling in her cheek tiie
Willie, and her bosom heavin^i; with that struggle
between love and wounded pride. He waited
until HJie had spoken the very last word, and
then lie let her hands fall, and stood silent before
her for a second or two.

"Sylvia," said he, slowly, "this is not merely a
lover's qunrrel. This is more serious. I could
not have imagined that you knew so Httle about
me. You fanoy, then, that 1 am a fresh and iii-
genuous youth, ready to have niy head turned if
a school-girl looks at me from under long eye-
lashes ; or, worse still, a philanderer — a professor
of the tine art of flirtation. Well, that was not
my reading of invL^elf. I fancied I had come to
man's est-jite, 1 fancied I had some serious work
to do. 1 fancied I knew a little about men and
women — at least I never imagined that any one
would suspect me of being imposed on by a girl
in her first sea. on. Amused? — certainly I was
amused — I ivas cven delighted by such a show of
pretty and artless innocence. Could any thing
be prettier than a girl in her first season assum-
ing the airs of a woman of the world ? could any
thing be more interesting than that innocent
chatter of lioisV though I could not make out
whether she had caught the trick of it from her
brother, or whether she had imparted to that
precocious lad some of her universal information.
£ut now it appears I was playing the part of a
guileless youth. I was dazzled by the fascination
of the school-girl eyes. Gracious goodness I why
wasn't my hair yellow and curly, that I might
have been painted as Cupid ? And what would
the inhabitants of Balliuascroon say if they were
told that was my character ?"

He spoke with bitter emphasis. But this man
Balfour went on the principle that serious ills
needed prompt and Lerious remedies.

" Presented to the Town-Hall of Tiallinascroon,'
he continued, with a scornful laugh, " a portraji
of H. Balfour, M.l'., in (he character of a phiL
derer I The author of this flattering and origii
likeness — Lady Sylvia Blythe !"

The girl could stand this no longer. She bui
into a wild tit of crying and sobbing, in the midei
of which he put his arms round her, and hush,
ed her head against his breast, and bade her
quiet.

" Come, Sylvia," said he, " let us have done will
this nonsense at once and forever. If you
until I give you real cause for jealousy — if yoi
have no other unliappiness than that — your lifi
will be a long and fairly comfortable one. N
speaking to you all through dinner t Did you c
pect me to bawl across the table, when you kuoi
very well your first desire was to conceal froi
those people the fact of our being engaged
Listening to no one but her ? I hadn't a chance
She chattered from one end of the dinner to thi
other. But really, Sylvia, if I were you, I wouii
fix upon jome more formidable rival — "

" Please don't scold me any mora," said slii
with a fresh fit of crying.

" I am not scolding you," he said. " I am
talking common-sense to you. Now dry yoi
eyes, and promise not to be foolish any more, a
come out into the garden."

After the rain the sunshine. They went oi
arm in arm, and she was clinging very closely
him, and there was a glad, bright, blushing huj
piness on her face.

Now this was the end of their first trouble, ai
it seemed a very small and trivial affair when
was over. The way was now clear before the
There wore to be no more misunderstanding
But Mr. Hugh Balfour was a practical persoj
not easily led away by beautiful unticipatio:
and the more he pondered over the matter,
those moments of (juiet reflection that followed '
evenings at the House, the more he became c
vinced that the best guarantee against the rec
rcnce of misunderstandings and consequent tr
ble was marriage. He convinced himself that
inunediate marriage, or a marriage as early as
cial forms would allow, was not only desirab]
but necessary ; and so clear was his hue of arj
ment that he never doubted for a moment
that it would at once convince Lady Sylvia.

But his arguments did not at all convince I
Sylvia. On the contrary, this proposal, wlii
was to put an end to the very possibility of
ble, oidy landed them in a further trouble,
he, being greatly occupied at the time — the 1'
liamentary session having got on into June
mitted the imprudence of making this suggest!
in a letter. Had iie been down at Willowby Hi
walking with Lady Sylvia in the still twilight, w
the stars beginning to tell in the sky and the i
beginning to gather along the margin of the I
he might have had another answer ; but now
wroU- to him that in her opinion so serious a s
as marriage was not to be adventured upon i
hurry; and she added, too, with some pardona
pride, that it was not quite seemly on his par
point out how they could make their honey-ui
trip coincide with the general autumn holi(
Was their marriage to anpear to be a merely t

lorely fati

limself. I

iveuing; h

ir; as he

for having

w the lei

) somewh

m — a tei)

nation gi

light soor

itter and

rieuMU (

be ttie c(

intion to t

iction in ii

iw temper

insitive pr

Then the

[romptedhi

iur.se /le w

the san:

Itely but fin

lie among t

it renderei

making i

■oscopic nil

w no reaso

lose of the .'

ir the opinii

tlioarraiigi

1" the discov

y other wa

'I't the vie\

irth. It wt

tie of arg>-ni

see her vrv

But to the I

e country tl

cl it seeiiH'

thdrawn

e world a

fie was

down and

ivds :

"Dearest!
ither than ,

Probably,
ce, lie won
i generous
tantly refii
! of feeling
oad.

rts try to

perilous

via began t

3 due to

m unmaid

so all-imp

idJiug day '

y were wa

iy got mar

le was far

le in which

i^day of he

io she ans

Triage, she

ial or accidental thing, waiting for its accompl ,j . .. '

ment until Parliament should be prorogued?
He got the letter very late one night, ' aen he

; but cLe (
wjdding J

Ttellinascroon,"
igh, " a portrait
!ter of a philan-

ing, in the midel
1 her, and hush
and bade her h

er. if you wai
jealousy — if yoi
1 that — your lif
itable one. No
lerV Did you CI
1, when you knoi
to coneeal frou
being engaged

GREEN PASTURES AND PTCOADILLT.

lorely fatigued, harassed, and discontented with
limsell. He had lost his temper in the House that
. . . j svening; he had been called to order oyHr. Speak-
ing and origuul ^. ^g jjg talked home he was reviling himself
or having been betrayed into a rage. When he

"^!?'"i» *v!! ^""1 a'' ^^^ '®"^'" 'y'"S <*" ^^^ **^'^' he brightened
ip somewhat. Here, at least, would be consola-
ion — a tender message — perhaps some gentle in-
imution given that the greatest wish of his heart
night soon he realized. Well, he opened the

s have done witl ^^^^J ^„^ ^^^j ;^ j^ie disappointment he ex-

lorienf id doubtless exaggerated what he took
a be the coldness of its terms. He paid no at-
ention to the real and honest expressions of af-

iction in it; he looked only at her refusal, and
aw temper where there was only .a natural and
ensitive pride.

Then the devil took possession of him, and
rompted liim to write in reply there and then. Of

hadn't a chancf |,„pj,g /^g would not show temper, being a man.

the dinner to tli
fere you, I woul
rival—"
mora," said sb

said. " I am onl

ish any more, an

. They went w
,ng very closely

vial affair when
dear before the
nisunderstaudii)
, practical perse

11 the same, he felt called on to point out, po-
tely but firmly, that marriage was, after all, only
lie among the many facts of life ; and that it was
ot rendered any more sublime and mysterious
y making it the occasion for a number of mi-
' roscopic martyrdoms and petty sacrilices. He
Now dry )o« ^^ ^^^ reason wiiy the opportunity oifered by the

ose of the session sho\ild not be made use of ; as

»r the opinion of other people on the seemlincss

' the arrangement, she would have to be prepared

- I ' "' tl'c Uiscovevy that neither on that point nor on

rht, blushmg hai ^y of,,^,. „..,^ |,g lij-^iy jo shape his conduct to

eet the views of a mass of strangers. And so
ir first Jtrouble,aii ^^ti, it was a perfectly sensible letter. The
le of ariT'Mnent was clear. How could she fail
see her error ?

But to the poor fluttering heart down there in
e country these words came with a strange chill ;

tiful anticipation ,(j ■^^ g^jemod to her that her lover had suddeidy

ver the matter,
jn that followed '
re he became co
i against the reci
id consequent tro
;ed himself that
•iage as early as
not only desirab
as his line of aig
for a moment I)
J Lady Sylvia,
it all convince La

possibility of tri
rther trouble,
the time — the T
on into June
king this suggest
n at Willowby H
ic still twilight, w
the sky and the u
Q margin of the la
nswer ; but now
lion so serious a s
[Iventured upon
ith some pardona

thdrawn from her to a great distance, leaving
e world around her dark enough. Her first im-
Ise was to utter a jiiteous cry to him. She
t down and wrote, with trembling fingers, these
)rds :

" De.\rest Huuh, — Tioill do whatever you phase,
ther than have you write to me like that.

" SVLVIA."

Probably, too, had she sent off this letter at

ce, he would have been struck by her simple

. d generous self-abnegation, and he would have

lis proposal, win it^ntly refused to demand from her any sacri-

e of feeling whatsoever, ikit then the devil was
road. Te generally is about when two sweet-
avts try to arrange some misunderstanding by
perilous process of correspondence. Lady
Ivia began to recollect that, after all, something
s due to her womanly pride. Would it not
im unmaidenly thus to surrender at discretion
so all-important a point as the fixing of the
dding day ? She would not have it said that
:y were waiting for Parliament to rise before
ly got married. In any case, she thought the
le was far too short. Moreover, was this the
10 in which a man should ask a woman to fix

seemly on his par . j^y ^f her marriage ?

ke their honey-m
iral autumn holi(
ir to be a merely

Id be prorogued ?
me night, 'ueahs

lo she answered the letter in another vtin. If
rriage, she said, was only one of the ordinary
ts of life, she at least did not regard it in that

ig for its accompl i,t ^t all. ' She cared for tittle-tattle as little as

; but cl.<) did not like the appearance of having
'. w;;dding trip arranged as if it were an excur-

sion to Scotland for grouse-Bhooting. And so
forth. Her letter, too, was clever — very clerer
indeed, and sharp. Her face was a little flushed
as she sealed it, and bade the servant take it to
the post-ofiice the first thing in the morning. But
apparently that brilliant piece of composition did
not afford her much satisfaction afterward, for
she passed the night, not iu healthful sleep, but
in alternate fits of crying and bitter thinking, UO'
til it seemed to her that this new relationship into
which she had entered with such glad anticipa-
tions was bringing her sorrow after sorrow, grief
after grief. For she had experienced no more
serious troubles than these.

When Hugh Balfour received this letter he was
in his bedroom, about eight o'clock in the even-
ing; and he was dressed for the most part in
shabby corduroy, with a wisp of dirty black silk
round his neck. His man Jackson had brought
up from the kitchen some ashes for the smearing
of his hands and face,
on the table hard by.

A cadger's basket stood

CHAPTER XL

DE proft:ndis.

A MORE rufBanly- looking vagabond than the
honorable member for Ballinascroon could not
have been found within the area of Loudon on
that warm June evening. And yet he seemed fair-
ly pleased with himself as he boldly took his way
across the Green Park. He balanced his basket
jauntily over the dirty seal-skin cap. He whistled
as he went.

It was his third excursion of the sort, and he
was getting to be »iuite familiar with his role. In
fact, he was not thinking at all at this moment of
tramps' patter, or Covent Garden, or any thing
connected with the lodging-house in which he had
already spent two nights. He whistled to give
himself courage in another direction. Surely it
was not for him, as a man of the world, occupied
with tiie serious duties of life, and, above all, hard-
headc'.l and practical, to be perturbed by the sen-
timental fantasy of a girl. Was it not for her
interest, as well as his own, that he should firmly
hold out y A frank exposition of their relations
now would prevent mistakes in the future. And
as he could not undertake to piny a Cupid's part,
to become a philanderer, to place a mysterious
value on moods and feelings wliich did not corre-
spond witti the actual facts of life, was it not wiser
that he should plainly declare as much ?

And yet this scoundrell)'-looking hawker de-
rived but little consolation from his gay whistling.
He could not but think of Lady Sylvia as she
wrote the lettev now in his pocket ; and in his in-
most consciousness he knew what that tender-
hearted girl must have sulfcieil in penning the
cold, proud lines. She had none of his pressing
work in which to escape from the harassing pain
of such a discussion. He guessed that weary
days and sleepless nights were the result of such
letters as that he now carried with him. But
then, she was in the wrong. Discipline was whole-
some. So he continued his contented trudge and
his whistling.

He crossed St. James's Park, passed through
Queen Anne's Gate, and finally plunged into a
labyrinth of narrow and squalid streets and lanea

OlEEH PASTURES AND PICCADILLT.

with which he seemed sufficiently familiar. It
was not a pieaeant quarter on thia warm night ;
the air wa<; clusc and foul ; many of the inhabits
uits of the houses — loosely dressed women, for
the roost part, who had retreating foreheads, heavy
jowls, and a loud laugh that seemed scarcely hu-
man — had come out to sit on the door-step or the
pavement. There were not many men about. A
few hulking youths — bullet-headed, round-shoul-
dered, in-kneed — lounged about the doors of the
Eublic-houses, addressing each other in tutj most
ideous language apropos of nothing.

The proprietor of the common lodging-house
stood nt the entry iu hiu shirt sleeves. He took
no notice of Balfour, except that, on bis approach,
he went along the passage and unlocked a door, ad-
mitted him, and shut the door agair • this door
could not be re-opened on the other siuo, so that
there was no chance of a defaulter sneaking off
in the night without paying his fourpence. Bal-
four went up stairs. The doors of the various
rooms and the rickety little windows were all wide
open. Til'- beds — of coarse materials, certainly,
but clean — were all formally made. There was
not a human being in the place.

He had a room to himself — about eight feet
square, with two beds in it. Ue placed his basket
on the bed ; and then went down stairs again, and
out into the back yard. The only occupant of the
yard was a grizzled and feeble old man, who was
at this niument performing his ablutions in the
lavatory, which consisted of three pails of dirty
water standing on a bench in an open shed. The
man dried his face, turned, and looked at Balfour
with a pair of keen and ferrety eyes, said nothing,
and walked otf into the kitchen. Balfour was left
in sole occupation of the yard, with its surround-
ings of tumble-down out-houses and diliipidated
bi'ick walls. He lit a pipe, and sat down on a
bench.

It was not a good time of the year for these re-
searciies, the precise object of which he had for-
merly exp'\ined to Lady Sylvia. The summer
weather draivs tran)ps, hawkers, and other branch-
es of oiir nomadic population into the country,
where they ''an cadge a bit for food, and where,
instead of having to pay for a bed in a hot room,
they CB" sleep comfortably enough beneath an
empty (.■ or by a hedge-vow, or in a new drain-
pipe. Nv.-vertheles9, a good many strange people
turned into this lodging-house of a night ; and Bal-
four, on his first appearance, had rather ingratiated
himself with them by pretending to have had a
drop too much, and insisting on standing beer all
round. As he muttered his.determination to fight
any man who refused to drink with him — and as
there was a brawny and bony look about the build
of his shoulders — the various persons present
overcame their natural modesty, and drank the
beer. Thereafter the new-comer ip^apsed into a
gloomy silence ; sat on a bench in a^mer which
was hidden in shadow ; and doubi>ess most of his
companions, as they proceeded to talk of their
experiences of unions, guardians, magistrates, and
the like — the aristocracy, of course, preferring to
talk of the money they had made in Iby-gone times,
when their particular trade or lay had not been
overrun with competition — imagined he was
asleep.

On the following night he was well received ;
and now he entered a little more into conversa-
tion with them, his share in it being limited to

occasional questions. But there was one man
there who, from the very first, regarded him with
suspicion ; and he knew that from the way in which
this roan followed him about with his watchfull
eyes. This was an old roan called Fiddling Jack,
who, with a green shade over his eyes, went about
Larobeth as a blind roan, accompanied by lm|
daughter, a child of nine or ten, who played the
violin and collected the coppers. Whether hial
care of the child was parental or merely prude
tial, he always brought her back to the lodging-
house, and sent her to tied by nine o'clock; th
rest of the evening he spent in the great kitchen,
smoking a black clay pipe. From the very fiisi
Balfour knew that this old man suspected somi
thing ; or was it that his eyes, being guarded f roi
the light all day, seemed preternaturally keci
when the green shade was removed ?

But the man whom Balfour most feared wi
another old man, who in former days had bee:
the owner of a large haberdashery business ii
the King's Road, Chelsea, and who had drun
himself down until he now earned his living hi
selling evening papers on one of the river pier
His brain, too, had given way ; he was now a hall
maudlin, amiable, harmless old man, whose tin
language and courteous manners hud got for hin
the title of " Mr." Now Mr. Sturt excelled ii
conversation, and he spoke with great propriet
of phrase, so that again and again lialfuur foiiih
himself on the point of replying to this old gen
tlcnian as he would have done to a member o
the House of Commons. In fact, his only siife
guard v;ith respect to Mr. Sturt lay in complct
silence.

But indeed, on this third evening of hia expio
rations, his heart was not in his woi k at all.
he Talked up and down the squalid yard, oc«
sionally noticing a ncw-comor oon;e in, his miii
was filled, not with any social or political pnit
lem, but v.ith a great compunction and ycainiiij
He dared not take Lady Sylvia's letter fi-om lii
pocket, but he tried to remember every word in it
and he pondered over this and tlie other phini
to see if it could not .somehow be construed iiii
an expression of affection. Tiun he began t
compose his answer to it ; and that, he lieterniinoi
would be a complete abandonment of the po.«iti(
he had taken up. After all, was not a great d
to be granted to the- woman cue loved ? If <
was unreasonable, it was only the privilege of
sex. In any case, he would argue no longei
he would try the effect of a generous Burn
der.

Having come to this decision, which affordi
him some internal comfort, he bethought hinise
of his immediate task ; and accordingly he wal
ed into the kitchen, where a number of the hd
<««« had already assembled. An excess of courtc n„„,j
is not the order of the day in a common lodgin „;„,,. " ^""^'^
house, and so he gave no greetmg and receiv |ajs%h
none. He sat down on a rickety stool in tl jjjijp^ '"'i^
great dusky den; and while some of the od ^ m'^„]
looking folks were having their supper, he lit > ^^ ]{„p!"°
other pipe. But he had not sat there five mi ^^^^ ^ "
utes when he had formed a distinct opinion tb ^ij j| . ^ *
there was an alteration in the manner of th« <j;|,yii«^
people toward him. They looked at hiro askane M ^. '
they had become silent since the moroent of 1 ^i^^ , . ."
entrance. Moreover, the new-comers, as tli ^„r^^'^ ?^ ,
dropped in, regarded him curiously, and inrarial " . ' '"°"
withdrew to the further ead of the bigapartme ^^ the"b*

he crowd.

When th

in a low

So con

that he i

of these |

room ab(

read Lad

this decii

yard, tool

his pocke

went up f

8P<all and

Ho hat

woman ru

was a sta

bust, keer

gave a tru

"ForG

hurriedly,

drinking i

down on j

basket; ri

" But wl

atubbornlv

mit to tt e

why.

"It's all

Lord, I'll ]

an angry Ic

a buz-man-

"Awhai

"He say

and the bo

very night.

ing to them

"Lookh.

removed a

him, and t(

am a peace

play duck

"For Gc
you're a
Sir, off you
He seem
pistol into
went down
no unusual
to unlock
passage.
But he
was met by
beasts; an(
able crowd
and were d
circle. He
and stood
of way that

GKEPN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

When they Rpoke, it was among themB Ives, and
iu a low voice.

So conscious did lie in time become of all this
that he resolved he would not spoil the evening
of these poor folks ; lie would go up to that small
room above. Doubtless some secret wish to re-
read Lady Sylvia's letter had some influence on
this decision ; at any rate, he went out into the
yard, tool< a turn up and down with his hands in
his pociicts ; and then, with apparent carelessness,
went up stairs. He sat down on the edge of the
8P.11II and rude bed, and tooli out the letter.

Ho had not been there live minutes when a
woman rushed into the room, greatly excited. Site
was a stalwart woman, with an immensely broad
bust, keen gray eyes, and a gray mustache that
gave a truculent look to her faci.

" For God's sake, get out o' this. Sir !" she said,
hurriedly, but not loudly. " The boys have been
drinking at the Blue Tun, and they're coming
down on you. Look sharp. Sir. Never mind tlic
basket ; run for it — "

" But what's the matter, Mrs. Grace ?" said he,
stubbornly, refusing to rise. He could not sub-
mit to tie ignominy of running without knowing
why.

" It's all along o' that Fiddling Jack — by the
Lord, I'll pay him out !" said the woman, with
an angry look. " He's been about saying you was
a buz-man — "

"A what?"

" He says it was you got Billy Rowland a lifer ;
and the boys arc saying they'll do for you this
very night. Get away now, Sir. It's no use talk-
ing to them ; they've been drinking."

" Look hero, Mrs. Grace," SH'd b^, calmly, as he
removed a false bottom from the basket beside
tim, and took out a six-chambered revolver, " I
am a peaceable person ; but if there's a row, I'll
play ducks and drakes with some of them."

"For God's sake, don't show them that, or
you're a dead man," said the woman. " Now,
Sir, off you go."

He seemed in no great hurry ; but he put the
pistol into his breast pocket, put on his cap, and
went down stairs. There was no sound at oil —
no unusual excitement. He got the proprietor
to unlock the dividing door, and went along the
passage. He called a good-night to Mrs. Grace.

But he had no sooner got to the street than lie
was met by a great howl, like the roaring of wild
beasts ; and then he saw before him a consider-
able crowd of people who had just corac along,
and were drawing round tiie entrance in a semi-
Icircle. He certainly turned pale for a moment,
lid stood still. It was only in a confused sort
f way that he perceived that this hoarsely mur-

uriii"; crowd was composed chiefly of women —

iigoos witii biire lieads and arms — and louts of

Is about nineteen or twenty. He could not
distinguish tiieir cries ; lie only knew that they
ivcre mingled taunts and menaces. What to do
knew not, while to speak to this howling
naas was on the face of it useless. What was
this about "Billy Rowland," "Scotland Yard,"
'Spy," " Buz-man," and the rest?

"What is it you want with meV" he called
kloud; but of wtiat avail was his single voice
jigainst those thousand angry cries ?

A stone was flung at him and missed him. He
law the big lout who threw it dodge back into
lliu crowd.

" You cowardly scoundrel I" he shouted, making
an involuntary step forward. "Gome out here
and I'll fight you — I'll tight any one of you. Ah I
skulk behind the women, do !"

At this moment he received stinging blow on
the side of the head that sent him staggering for
a yard or two. A woman had crept up by the
side of the houses and pitchrd a broken piece of
tile at him. Had she thrown it, it must have
killed him ; as it was, it merely cut him, so that
instantaneously the side of his head and ucck
was streaming with blood.

He recovered his footing; the stinging pain
awoke all the Celtic ferocity in him ; he drew out
his revolver, and turned to the spot i om whence
his unexpected assailant had attacked him. There
was one terrible moment of hesitation. Had it
been a man, lie would have shot him dead. As it
was, he paused ; and then, with a white face, he
throw his revolver on the pavement.

He did not quite know what happened next,
for he was faint from loss of blood, and giddy.
But this was what happened. Tlie virago who
had pitched the piece of tile at him, as soon as
she saw tlie pistol lying on the pavement ut-
tered a screech of joy, and sprang forward to
seize it. The next moment she received a sting-
ing blow on the jaw, which sent her reeling sense-
less into the gutter; and the next moment Mrs.
Grace had picked up the revolver, while with her
other hand she caught hold of Balfour as with
the grip of a vise, and dragged him into the pas-
sage.

"Run!" she said. "The door is open! Through
the yard — there is a chair at the wall. Don't stop
till you're at the Abbey !"

She stood at the narrow entrance and barred
the way, the great brawny arm gripping the re-
volver.

" Swelp me," she shouted — and she knew how
to make herself heard — " swelp me God, if one
of you stirs a foot nearer, there'll be murder here
this night! I mean it. My name's Sal Grace;
and by the Lord there's six of you dead if you
lift a hand agtrinst me !"

At the same moment Balfour, though he felt
giddy, bewildered, and considerably weak about
the knees, had bolted down the back yard until
he came to the brick wall. Here he found a
rickety cane-bottomisd chair, and by its aid he
managed to clamber over. Now he was in an
open space of waste ground — it had just been
bought by the government for some purpose or
other —and, so far as he could see, it was closely
fenced all round. At length, however, lie de-
scried a hole in the paling tliat some children had
made, and through that he managed to squeeze
himself. Presently he was making his way as
fast as he could through a scries of slums ; but
his object was less to make straiglit for the Ab-
bey than to rout out the policemen on his way,
and send them back to the relief of his valiant
defender, and this he most luckily and successful-
ly accompiished. He liad manugod, too, during
his flight, to partly mop up the blood that had
streamed from the wound in his liead.

Then he missed his way somehow, for other-
wise a very few minutes' running and walking
mu.st have taken him either to the Abbey or the
Embankment ; and now, as he felt faint, he stag'
gered into a public-house.

" Well, my man, what's the matter with you ?"

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

said the burly {xiblican, as ho caw this new-conicr
sink down on a i)onuh.

" Some water — some brandy," said Balfour, in-
voluntat'ily putti",; his hand up to tho sido of his
head.

" (tood Lord ! youVo 'ad tho worst of it, my
lad," said the publican — ho was familiar with the
results of a fico figiit. "Here, Jim, get a pail o'
water, and let this chap put his 'eud in it. Don't
you let that blood get on the floor, my man."

The cool water applied to his head, and tho
glaf<9 of brandy, vile as it was, that ho drank,
pulled Balfour together. lie rose, and the pub-
lican and the pot-boy were astonished to find tho
difforencn in tiie appearoncc of this coster's face
produced i)y the pail of water. And when, on
Icavini;, he gave the pot-boy half a crown for his
attention, what were they to make of it?

By some means or other ho finally managed to
waii'li'i' into Victoria Street ; and here, with some
diHItiilty, he persuaded a cabman to drive him up
to I'iecndilly. Ho was secure himself, and ho
had littl'' fear for the safety of Mrs. Grace. lie
knew the authority wielded over the neighborhood
by that stalwart Auia/.on ; and in any case he had
sent her sutHcicnt police aid.

He got his man to wash that ugly cut along
the siile of Ills head bcfiu'o sending for a surgeon
to have it prDiierly dressed.

"Will yo ' i.iok at your letters. Sir ?"

"No, not lo-iiight," he said, for he was feeling
tired.

But on second thoughts he fancied ho might as
well "'ui his eye over the envelopes. He started
on finding there one from Lady Sylvia. Had she
then written imniuUiatcIy after the dispatch of her
la?t y

"7J(vi)r.i< I/ufffi," the girl wrote. "It will be
when i/oH jilrmr. I can not hear quarreling with
you. Your Si/lvia."

As he read the simple words — he was weak and
feverish — his eyes became moist. This girl loved
him.

CHAPTER XIL

HAVEN AT LAST.

The cut Balfour had received was merely a
flesh-wound, and not at all serious ; but of course
when Lady Sylvia heard of tho adventure in West-
minster, she knew that ho must have been nearly
murdered, and she would go to him at once, and
lior heart smote her sorely that she should have
Innm selfishly thinking of her own plans and
wishes when Ihis noble champion of the poor
was adventuring his /ery life for the public good.
Slie knew better than to believe the gibing ac-
count of tho whole matter that Balfour sent her.
He was always misrepresenting himself — playing
the part of Mophistopheles to his own Faust —
anxious to escape even from the loyal worship and
admiration freely tendered him by one loving heart.

But when she insisted on at once going up to
London, her father demurred. At that moment
he had literally not a five-pound note ho could
lay his hands on ; and that private hotel in Ar-
lington Street was an expensive place.

" Why not ask him to come down here for a
few days ?" Lord Willowby said. " Wouldn't that
be more sensible ? Give him two or three days'
rest and fresh air to recover him."

wi rendere(

Mr. Balfo

utlier's and

le otfendcd

hank you.

Iiu accompi

(lu occasio

insure of

)iic the lesi

"I am, m

lerely.

" He wouldn't come away just now, papa," aaid
Lady Sylvia, scrioubly. " Ho won't let any thing
stand between him and his public duties."

" His publiu duties I" her father said, impatient-
ly. ' h'lSitubliu fiddle-sticks t What are his pub-
lic duties V — to shoot out his tongue at tho very
people who sent him into Parliament!"

" Ho has no duties to </iem," she said, warmly.
" Thoy don't deserve to bo ropresente i at all. I
hope at the next general election he will go to
some other constituency. And if ho does," she
added, with a flush coming to her cheeks, " I know
one who will canvass for him."

" Go away, Sylvia," said her father, with a smile,
" and write a lino to tho young man, and tell him
to como down hero. He will bo glad enough.
And what is this nonsense about a house in this
neighborhood y — don't you want to see about that
if you are going to get married in Augtist? At
the same time, I think you are a couple of fools."

" Why, papa y" she demanded, patiently.

" To throw away mon;!y like that ! What more
could you want than that house in Piccadilly?
It could bo mado a charming little place. And
this nonsense about a cottage down here — roses
and lilies, I suppose, and a cuckoo clock and a
dairy ; you have no right to ask any man to throw
away his money like that."

Lord Willowby showed an unusual interest in
Mr. Balfour's affairs; perhaps it whs merely be.
cause he knew how much better use ho could
have mado of this money that the young people
were going to sciimndcr.

" It is his own wish, papa."

"Who put it into his head?"

"And if I did," said Lady Sylvia, valiantly,
"don't you think there should be some retreat
for a man harassed with the cares of public life?
What rest could he get in Piccadilly? Surely it
is no unusual thing for people to have a house in
tho country as well as one in town ; and of course
there is no part of tho country I cotdd like as nd now at
much as this part. So you see you are quite nd sorrows
wrong, papa ; and I am quite right — as I always
am."

" Go away and write your letter," said her fa-
ther.

Lady Sylvia went to her room, and sat down
to h(.»- desk. But before she wrote to Balfour

ijttio did
biwarded t«
iiinster; bn

, and know
lines and si
ut to see th
iument, or ti
ire, or to we

jail delive
I'iends have
uiiies, and v
le placed on
leat pride i
asket is pro
re only to b(
riends, and i
I unknown t
lat all tho H
ttire was pre
n earl's dau
ontains — am
igliest treas
uly's own hi
ML She ^
bout and
pstivity, whc
111 and rerei
lay at least
ith an earl'i

In due tin

1 the varioi
which the
nanimity of
utilo the otl
ia's father
ad just boi

sho had another letter to write, and she seemcil ome little pi
to bo sorely puzzled about it. She had nevei It was a h

written to Mrs. Grace before; and she did not t its fuUes'.

know exactly how to apologize for her presump' allinascrooi

tion in addressing a stranger. Then she wished e rendered

to send Mrs. (Jraco a present; and the only thinj ime day af

she could think of was lace — for lace was abou jy landseip

the only worldly valuable which Lady Sylvia pes rcenest ; th

sessed. All this was of her own undertaking ic pink die

Had she consulted her father, he would have said iveot winds

"Write as you would to a servant." Had shi ipicturesqt

consulted Balfour, he would have shouted witl le backbon

laughter at tho notion of presenting that domi » old-fashii

neering landlady of the Westminster slums wit! igether thoj

a piece of real Valenciennes. But Lady Sylvii le scent of

set to work on her own account ; and at lengtl mr wonden

composed the following message out of the ingen ija peacefu

uous simplicity of her own small head : lour of her

>r the first

" WiLLowiiT Hall, Ttutdaff morning, ig^r ambit

" Mt dear Mrs. Grace, — I hope you will pai i, of accur

don tho liberty I take in sending you these fe^ milered to i

lines, but I have just heard how nobly and bravel

w, papa," Bald
let any thing
liities."
lid, impatient-
at arc liis pub-
ic at tlio very
lit!"

Huid, warmly.

iitei at all. I

ho will go to

ho doos," she

lecks, " I know

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

8ft

mil rendered aselstancc, at great risk to yourself,
n Mr. liult'our, who Is a paiticular friend of my
atiier's and mine, and I thought you would not
)« offondcd if I wrote to say how very heartily we
liiink you. And will yci please accept from us
lie accompanying little parcel? it may remind
oil occasionally thut though we have not the
ilcaHure of your personal acquaintance, we are
nine the less most deeply grateful to you.

I am, my dear Mrs. Grace, yours very sin-
^^rely, Sylvia Blytue."

iiittle did Ralfour know of the packet which he
orwiii'ded to his valiant friend down in West-
iiin»tcr; but Hoppiness Alley speedily knew of
t, and knows of it to this day. For at great
iiiies and seasons, when all the world has gone
lit to see the Queen drive to the opening of I'ar-
iiiinent, or to look at the ruins of the last great
ire, or to we'corae the poor creatures set free by
, jiiil delivery, and when Mrs. Grace and her
riends have got back to ti.a peace of their own
loines, and when pipes have been lit and jugs of
le placed on the window-sill to cool, then with a
rent pride and vainglory a certain mahogany
aaket is produced. And if the uses of a tichii
re only to be guessed at by Mrs. Grace and he:'
riends, and if the precise value of Valenciennes
) unknown to them, what matters ? It is enough
jat all the world should know that this article of
ttlre was presented to Mrs. Grace by an euil and
n earl's daughter, in proof of which the casket
Diitains — and tnis Mrs. Grace regards as the
igliest treasure of all — a letter written in the
uiy's own hand. She docs not show the letter
xi'If. She does not wish to have it fingered
bout and dirtied. But at these high tiroes of
pstivity, when the lace is taken out with an aw-
iil and reverent cure, the envelope of the letter
lay at least be exliibited ; and that is stamped
ith an earl's coioin't.

In due time Bali'our went down to Willowby,
nd now at last it seemed as if all the troubles
B you are quite nd sorrows of these yo'-.ng people were over.
1 the various glad preparations for the event
) which they both looked forward, a generous
niinimity of feeling prevailed. Each strove to
utdo the other ir. conciliation. And Lady Syl-
ia's father smiled benignly on the pair, for he
ad just borrowed £300 from Balfour to meet

sr, with a smile,
,n, and tell him
! glad enough,
a house in this

see about that
I August ? At
jupic of fools."
ttticntly.
t! What more

in Piccadilly?
le place. And
wn here — ro9C3
DO clock and a
ly man to throw

isiml interest in
wiis inevely be.
!• use he could
le young people

lylvia, valiantly,
be some retreat
8 of public life?
iiUy? Surely it
I have a house in
1 ; and of course
' I could like as

5ht — as I always

ter," said her fa

n, and sat down
prote to Balfour

She had nevei

for her presumiv
Then she wish»i
nd the only thinf
ir lace was aboui
Lady Sylvia pes
wn undertaking

and she seeraec ome little pre^jsing emergency.

It was a halcyon time indeed, for the year was

and she did not t its fulles'. and sweetest, and the member for

allinascroon was not hampered by the services
rendered to his constituents. One brilliant
line day after another shone over the fair Sur-
!y landsc ipes ; beech, ash, and oak were at their
roenest ; the sunlight warmed up the colors of
10 pink chestnut and the rose-red hawthorn, and
would have said ureet winds played about the woods. They drove
vant." Had shi > pictures-iue spots in that line of hill that forms
ive shouted witl le backbojie of Surrey ; they made excursions
mting that doiiii » olJ-fashiimed little hamlets on the Thames;
inster slums witl igether they rode over the wide commons, where
But Lady Sylvii le scent of the gorse was strong in the air. Bal-
it ; and at lengtl mr wondered no longer why Sylvia should love
out of the ingen lia peaceful and secluded life. Under the gla-
lour of her presence idleness became delightful
)r the first time in the existence of this busy,
IHiesdaif morning, jger, ambitious man. All his notions of meth-
lope you will pai i, of accuracy, of common-sense even, he sur-

ng you these fe'
nobly and bravet

nilered to this strange fascination. To be un-

reasonable was a virtue in a woman, if it wa.f
Lady Sylvia who was nnroasonal le. He laughed
with pleasure one evening when, in a strenuous
argument, she stated that seven times seven wcro
fifty-six. It would have been stupid in a servant
to have spilled her ten, but it was pretty when
Lady Sylvia's small wrist was the ciiiiso of that
misha|t. And when, with her serious, timid eyes
grown full of feeling, sho pleaded the cause of
the poor sailor sent to sea in rot ton ships, he felt
himself ready then to go into the House and out-
Plimsoll Plimsoll in his enthusiasm on behalf of
so good a cause.

It was not altogether love in iillencss. They
had their occupations. First of all, she spent
nearly n whole week in town choosing wall-col-
ors, furniture, and pictures for that house in Pic-
cadilly, though it was with a great shyness she
w.-nt to the various places and expressed her
opinion. During that week she saw a good deal
more of London and of London life than com-
monly came within her experience. For one
thing, she had the trembling delight of listening,
from behind the grill, to Balfour making a short
speech in the House. It was a terrible ordeal for
her; her heart throbbed with anxiety, and sho
tore a pair of gloves into small pieces unknow<
ingly. But as she drove home she convinced
herself with a high exultation that there was no
man in the House looked so distinguished as
that one, that the stamp of a great statesman
was visible in the square forehead and in the
firm mouth, and that if the House knew as much
as she knew, it would be more anxious to listen
for those words of wisdom which were to save
the nation. Balfour's speech was merely a few
ri marks made in committee. They were not of
gr.'al importance. But when, next morning, sho
eageily looked in the newspaper,-!, and found
what he had said condensed into a sentence, she
was in a wild rage, and declared to her father
that public men were treated shamefully in this
country.

That business of refurnishing the house in
Piccadi"^ had been done perforce; it was with
a far greater satisfaction that she set about dec-
orating and preparing a spacious cottage, called
The Lilacs, which was set in the midst of a pretty
garden, some three miles from Willowby Park.
Here, indeed, was pleasant work for her, and to
her was intrusted the whole management of the
thing, in Balfour's necessary absence in town.
From day to day she rode over to see how the
workmen were getting on. She sent up busi-
ness-like reports to London. And at lust she
gently hinted that he might come down to see
what had been done.

" Will you ride over or drive?" said Lord Wil-
lowby to his guest, after breakfast that morning.

"I am sure Mr. Balfour would rather walk,
papa," said Lady Sylvia, " for I have di-scovored
a whole series of short-cuts that I want to show
him — across the fields. Unless it will tire you,
papa y"

" It won't tire me at all," said Lord W^illowby,
with great consideration, "for I am not going.
I have letters to write. But if you walk over,
you must send Lock to the cottage with tho
horses, and ride back."

Although they were profoundly disappointed
the: Lord Willowby could not accompany them,
they set out ou their walk with an assumed cheer-

URKRN I'ASTUREU AND PICCADILLY.

fulnoii wliloh MAtnud to ooncual their inward
grief. It wttH July now ; bu' the inorninK wuh
fresh nntJ cool after the nJKht't rain, and there
wan a plouHunt noutliurly breeze blowing the tit>e<;y
oloudH Hui'OHM the blue HJty, bo that tlieru wai« un
abundance of light, motion, and color all around
them. Tiio elniM were ruHllinK and Hwaying in
the park ; tlio roolcM were cuwing ; in tdie dls>
tance tliey Haw a cloud of yellow Hmolce arive
from the roud oh thu frcHh breeze blew ucroBS.

Hhe led him away Ity Heuret puthn and wooded
lanes, with hero and tliure a stilo to croHS, and
hero and thore a HwliiKirif; k'^^^ ^c open. Siie
was anxiourt lio Mhould Itnow intimately all the
Burroundinf<M of his future home, and ithe seemed
to bo familiar with thu name of every furm-houBe,
every turnpike, every clump of trees, in tlie neigh-
borhood. Hliu knew tlie various plants in the
hedges, and lie profuMsod himself profoundly in-
terested in learning their names. They crossed
a bit of common now; ho had never known be-
fore how beautiful the flowers of a common were
— the pul)\ lumon-oolorcd hawk-weed, the purple
thyme, the orange and crimson tipped bird's-foot
trefoil. They passed through waving fields of
rye; he liad never noticed before the curious
sheen of gray produced by the wind on tho^c bil-
lows of grcon. They came in sight of long un-
dulations of wheat ; no vowed he had never seen
in his life any thing so beautiful as the brilliant
scarlet of the poppies wheru the corn was scant.
The happiness in Lady Sylvia's face, when he ex-
pressed himself delighted with all these things,
was something to see.

They came upon a gypsy encampment, appar-
ently deserted by all but the women and cliiidren.
One of tiie voungor women immediately came out
and l)egan the usual patter. Would not the pretty
lady have her fortune told f She had many hap-
py days in store for her, but she had a little tem-
per of her own, and so forth. Lady Sylvia stood
irresolute, bashful, rather inclined to submit to
the ordeal for the amusement of the thing, and
looking doubtfully at her compani(m as to wlieth-
er he would approve. As for Balfour, he did not
pay th» Klightest heed to the poor woman's jar-
gon. His eyo had been wandering over tlie
encampment, apparently examining every thing.
And then lio turned to the woniun, and begun to
<|ucstion her witli a directness that sturticvl her
out of tier trade manner altogether. Khe an-
swered hira simply and seriously, though it was
not a very direful tale siio liad to tell. When
Balfour hud got all the information he wanted,
he giive the woinun half a suvereign, pnd passed
on with .his companion ; and of course Ludy Syl-
via said to liorHclf that it wus the abrupt sincer-
ity, tlie force of character, ^n this man that com-
pelled sincerity in others, and slie was more than
ever convinced tliut tho like of him was not to
be found in the world.

" Well, Sylvia," said ho, when they reached The
Lilacs, and hud passed through the fragrant gar-
den, " you have really made it a charming place.
It is a place one might paws one's life away in —
reading books, smoking, dreaming day-dreams."

" 1 Itopu you will ulwiiys tind rest and quiet in
it," said she, in a low voice.

It was u long, irregular, two-storied cottage,
with a veranda along tin; (runt ; and it was pret-
ty well smothered in wliile roses. There was not
much of a luwu ; for tho ground facing tho French

windows had mostly been out up into flower bodi
— beds of turquoise blue forget-me-nots, of wliit«
and speckled clove-pinks tliat sweetened all thi
air around, of various-hued pansies, and of whiti
and purple columbine. But the strong point ot
the cottage and the garden waa its roses. Then
wore roses every where — rose-bushes in the vuii
oils plots, rose-trees covering tho walls, roses in
the tiny hall into which they passed when the old
h.ousckeeper made her appearance. " I'll tell you
who ought to live here, Sylvia," said her compaiv
ion. "That German fellow you wero telling ui
about who lives close by — Count von Rosen. 1
never saw such roses in my life."

Little adornment indeed was needed to maki
this retreat a sutHciently charming one ; but all
the same, Lady Sylvia liad spent a vast amount
of care on it, and her companion was delighted
with the skill and grace with which the bare matfr
rials of the furniture which he had only seen in
the London shops had been arranged. As the;
walked through the quaint little rooms, they did
not say much to each other ; for doubtless their
minds wero sufficiently busy in drawing picture!
of the happy life they hoped to spend there.

Of course all these nice things cost money.
Balfour had been for some time drawing upon
his partners in a fashion which rather astonished
those gentlemen ; for they liad grown accustomed
to calculate on the extreme economy of the youne
man. One moiming the head clerk in the firm of
Balfour, Skinner, Oreen, k Co., in opening tho let-
ters, came upon one from Mr. Hugh Balfour, in
which that gentleman gave formal notice that he
would want a sum of £60,000 in cash on the Ist
of August. When Mr. Skinner arrived, the head
clerk put the letter before hira. He did not turn
pale, nor did he nervously break the paper-knift
he held in his hand. He only said, " Oooid Lord I"
and then he added, " I suppose he must have it"

It was in the second week in August that Mr,
Hugh Balfour, M.P. for Ballinascroon, waa mar
ried to Lady Sylvia BIythe, only dauglfiter of the
Earl of Willowby, of Willowby Hall, Surrey ; and
immediately after the marriage the happy paii
started off to spend their honey-moon in Germany,

CHAPTER XIIL

FIV8-ACE JACK.

Wk will now let Mr. Balfour and his young and
charming bride go off together on their wedding
trip — a trip tliat ought to give them some slight
chance of becoming acquainted with each other,
though a certain profound philosopher, reMdent
in Surrey, would sav that the glamour of in>pos-
sible ideals was still veiling their oyea — ami we
will turn, if vou please, to a very different sort of
traveller, wl. . just about the same time was> rid
ing aking a cattle trail on the high-lying i.nd
golden-yellow plains of Colorado. This was HiK>k.
skin Cliarlie, so named from the suit of gray l-uck-
skin width lie wore, and which was libi;rall;
adorned with loose fringes cut from the leather.
Indeed, there was a generally decorative air aouut
this herdsman and his accoutrements, which gava
him a half Mexican look, though the bright sun
tanned complexion, the long light brown hair, and
' the clear blue eyes were not at all Mexican. There
waa a brass tip to the high pommel iu front of

Into flower bcdi

[ie-not8, of wliiti
vvctcned all thi
ic8, and of whiti

Hti'oiig point oj
tH roBes. Then
sheH in the vurl-
walls, roses in
icd when the old
0. " I'll tell you
aid her compan-

were telling ui
t von Rosen. 1

needed to maki
ing one ; but nil
t a vast amount
n was delighted
ill the bare niatfr
lad only seen in
ingcd. As the;
rooms, they did
■ dou)>tless their
irawing picturei
ipeud there,
igs cost nionej,
e drawing upon
ather astonished
own accustomed
my of the young
irk in the firm ot
opening the Ict-
Iiigh Bulfour, in
al notice that he
cash on the lal
irrivcd, the head
He did not turn
the paper-knift
i," Good Lord!"
e must have it"
August that Hr,
croon, was mar
daughter of tha
all, Surrey; and
the happy paii
oou in Germany.

u! his young and

n their wedding

lem some slight

ivith each other,

sopher, rendent

imour of in^pos-

r oycs — aniJ w»

liffercnt sort of

le time was rid'

high-lying ind

This WHS Bu

uit of giay buolC'

was libiiralij

rom the leather.

trative air ai>uut

ents, which gave

the bright sun

brown hair, and

Mexican. Ther«

mel in front of

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

him, round which a luao was coiled. He wore
huge wooden stirrups, which looked like salrata J
with the hnels cut out. The rowela of his spurs
were an i.'tch and a half in diameter. And the
wiry little pony he rode bad Iwth mane and tail
lung and flowing.

It is a pleasant enough morning for a ride, for
on these high-lying plains the air is cool and ex-
hilurating even in the glare of the sunHliinc. Tlio
profipect amund him is pleasant too, though Buck-
sl<iu Ciiarlie probably dues not mind that much.
He has long ago got accustomed to the immeas-
urable breadth of billowy prairie land, the low
yclluw-brown waves of which stretch away out
into the west until they meet with the range of
tlio Rocky Mountains — a wall of ethereal blue
standing all along the western horizon, tiere and
tlicro showing a patch of shining white. And
he is familiar enough, too, with the only living
objucts visible — a herd of antelope quietly gra)!-
hig in the shadow of some distant and low-lying
bluffs ; an occasional chicken-hawk that lifts its
heavy and bcspecklcd wings and makes away for
the water in tlic nearest gully ; and every where
the friendly little prairie-dog, standing up on his
hillock like a miniature kangaroo, and coolly star-
ing at him as he passes. Buckskin Charlie is
not hungry, and therefore takes no interest in
natural liistory.

It is a lung ride across the plains from Eagle
Creek Ranch to New Minneapolis, but this impor-
tant place is reached ut last. It is a pretty little
hamlet of wooden cottages, with a brick school-
house, and a small church of the like material.
It has a few cotton-wood trees about. It is irri-
gated by a narrow canal which connects with a
tribuvary of the South Platte.

buckskin Charlie rides up to the chief shop of
this hamlet and dismounts, leaving his pony in
charge of a lad. The shop is a sort of general
store, kept by one Ephraim J. Greek, who is also,
as a small sign indicates, a notary public, convey-
ancer, and real estate agent. When Buckskin
Charlie enters the store, Mr. Greek — a short, red-
faced, red-haired person, who is generally address-
ed as Judge by his neighbors — is in the act of
\reigliing out some sugar for a small girl who is
at the counter.

" Hello, Charlie !" says the Judge, carelessly, as
he continues weighing out the sugar. " How's
things at the ranch ? And how is your health?"

"I want you to come right along," says Char-
lie, without further ceremony. " The boss is just
real bad."

"You don't say!"

Charlie looks for a second or two at the Judge
getting the brown paper bag, and then he says,
impatiently,

" He wants you to come right away, and he
wop't stand no foolin' — you bet."

But ihe Judge is not to be hurried. He asks
I' is smat? customer what else her mother wants,
«nd then he turns leisurely to the sun-tanned
n essenger.

" 'Tain't the fooist time, Charlie, the Colonel has
hccn bad like that. Oh, I know. I knowed the
(.'olonel before you c'.er .set eyes on him — yes, Sir.
I knowed him in Denver, when he was on'y Five-
Ace Jack. But now he's the boss, and no mis-
take. Reckon he's doin' the big Bonanza busi-
ness, and none o' your pea-nut consarns — "

Here Buckskin Charlie broke in with a number

of words which showed that he was intiroatelj
familiar with Scripture, and might have led one
to suppose that ho meant to annihilate the dila*
tory Judge, but which, us it tinned out, were only
intended to emphatiMi IiIm Htiitument that tha
Colonel had bratulcd IHOII culvex at the ranch
last year, and hud also got up 20f)(t head from
Texas. B^ the time this piece of information
had been delivered and received, the wants of tho
small girl in front of the counter had been satis-
tied ; and then the Judge, having gone out and
borrowed a neighbor's pony, set forth with his
impatient coiiipuniun for Eiiglu Creek Ranch.

On the way they had a good deal of familiar
talk about the boss, or the Colonel, as he was in-
differently called ; and the Juilg«>, now in a friend*
ly mood, told Buckskin Charlie some things he
did not know before about his master. Their
conversation, however, was so saturated with
Biblical lore that it may be advisable to give
here a simpler and plainer history of the owner
of Eagle Creek Ranch. To begin with, he was an
Englishman. He was latrn in Cumberland, and
as a young fellow achieved some little notoriety
as a wrestler: in fact, that wea all the work hia
parents could get out of him. It was in vain
that they paid successive sums to have him ap-
prenticed to that business, or made a partner in
this; Jack Sloano was simply a ne'er-do-well,
blessed with a splendid physique, a high opinion
of his own importance, and a distinguished facil-
ity in wheedling people into lending him money.
Such was his position in England when the rush
to California occurred. Here was Jack's oppor-
tunity. His mother wept bitter tears when she
parted with him ; but nobody else was affected
to the same extent.

As a gold-digger Jack was a failure, but he
soon managed to pick up an amazing knowledge
of certain games of cards, insomuch that hia
combined luck and skill got for him the compli-
mentary title of Five-Ace Jack. Whether he
made money or not at this profession does not
appear, for at this point there is a gap in his his-
tory. When his relatives in England — among
whom, I regret to say, was a young lady inci-
dentally alluded to in the first chapter of this
story — next heard of him he was in Texas, em-
ployed at a ranch there. No one ever knew what
had made the social atmosphere of San Francis-
co rather too sultry for Five-Ace Jack.

Then the Pike's Peak craze occurred, in 1869,
and once again Jack was induced to join the gen-
eral rush. He arrived at Denver just as the bub-
ble had burst. He found a huge icultitude of
people grown mad with disappointment, threat-
ening to burn down the few wooden shanties and
canvas tents that then constituted the town, and
more especially to hang incontinently an esteem-
ed friend of the present writer, who had just is-
sued the first numbers of the Rockif Mountain
Netm. Then the greot crowd of bunmiers and
loafers, not finjing the soil teeming with nug-
gets, stampeded off like a herd of buffalo, leav-
ing a few hardy and adventurous spirits to ex-
plore the neighboring caiions, and find out by
hard work whether or not gold existed there in
paying quantities. Jack Sloane remained behind
also — in Denver. He started what was called a
whiskey saloon in a tent, but what was really a
convenient little gambling hell for those who had
grown reckless. Times grew better. Rumors

ORBEN PA8TURES AND PICCADILLY.

camo donrn from tlie mountains that tho gulch
ami plui'vr minuH wliich hud been opuiivd were
giviiifj a full' yield ; huru mid there — uh, fur exam-
ple, ill the Clear Creek Cuflou — u vein uf rotten
(|iiiirtz hud been Htruek euntaiiiiiiK free gold in
sui'|)i'i.sing rieliiie88. Now «i>3 Juek'o time. Ho
opened a keno and faro bank in a wooden ahnnty,
and he eliarged only ten per eent. on the keno
wiiiiiinKri. IIo wuH uii udept at cuehru and poker,
and Wilt) alwaya willing to lend a huiid, IiIh chief
peoiiiiurity being that he invuriul)ly ehoHO thut
side of tiiu table whieli enabled hint to fuee the
door, 80 that ho might not be taken unawares by
an unfriendly Hhot. He drove a roiiHiiig trade.
The miners eame down from " the Roekiett" with
their bii^s of gold-dimt ready open to pay for a
frolin, and Five-Ace Jack received a liljcral per-
centage from the tliree-eard-nionto men who en-
tcrtikiiied these innocent folkn. Dut for a sad
ocuiilent Jack might have remained at Denver,
and become an exemplary member of Bociety.
He might have muriied one of tlie young ladies
of accommodating manners who had even then
managed to wander out to that Western town.
He and blie might at the present moment have
been regarded as one of the twelve "Old Fami-
lies" of Denver, who, beginning for tho most part
a.s he began, are now demonstrating their respect-
ability by bulMing churches like mad, and by
giving balls which, in the favored language of tho
place, are described aa " ((uite the toniest things
going." But fortune hud a grudge against Jack.

There was an ill-favored rascal called Bully
Bill, who was coming in from the plains one
day, wlun he found two Indians following him.
To shoot tirst, and ask the Indians' intentions
afterward, was the rule in these parts; and ac-
cordingly Bully Bill flrcd, bringing one Indian
down, tlie other riding off as hard as he could
go. The comtueror tlionght he would have the
scalp of his enemy as a proof of his valor ; but
he was a bad hand at the business, and as he
was slowly endeavoring to get at the trophy, he
found that the other Indian liud mustered up
courage, and was coining back. There was no
time to lose. He simply lieweil the dead Indian's
head off, jumped on his pony, and, after an ex-
citing chase, reached the town in safety. Tlien
he carried the head into Five-Ace .Tack's saloon ;
and as there were a few of the boys there, ready
for fun, they got up an auction for that ghastly
prize. It wa.s knocked down at no less a sum
than two hundred dollur.s — a price which so fired
the brain of Bully iiill that he went in wildly for
playing cards. But Five-Ace Jack never played
cards wildly, and ho wa.s of the party. He ob-
served that not only did Bully Bill lose steadily,
but also that his losses seemed to vex him iimch ;
and, in fact, just as the last of the two Iiiindred
dollars was disapiiearing, he was surprised and
deeply pained to tind that Bidly Bill was trying
to cheat. This toudieci Jack's conscience, and
ho remonstrated ; wliL'reupon there was a word
or two, and then Jack drew his shooter out and
shot Bully Bill through the head. Tlicy respect-
fully jilaced the boiiy on two chairs, and Jack
called for some drinks.

This incident ought to have caused no great
trouble ; for at that time there was no Union
Pacific Railroad Company — a troublesome body,
which has ere now impeached judge, jury, and
prisoner, all in a lump, for a conspiracy to defeat

tho endi of Juiticc, wlicn nemo notorioui cfPender
Iiu8 got off icot-frce. Dut Dully Dill had three
brothers up in tho mountains ; and Jack was of
opinion that, if ho remained in Denver, his niinj
would bo troubled with many cures. However, h«
hud amassed a good deal of money in th!: gam-
bling hell of his ; and so he was ubie to persuade
a few of his meaner dependents to strike their tentii
along with him, and go out into tho wildorucss,
He wandered over the plains until he saw a good
pluco for a ranch — not a stock-raising ranch, but
a place to accommodate the droves of pilgrims
wlio were then slowly and laboriously making their
way to tho West. He built Ins ranch about a
hundred yards buck from tho wugou route, and
calmly awaited custom,

But even in these peaceful solitudes, if all sto.
ries be true — and we in England heard nothing of
Jack Sloane for many years — he did not (piite de-
sist from his evil ways. Finding, first of ail, that
many of the wagon parties went by without call-
ing in at his ranch, he and his men dug a largo
pit right across the route, so that the drivers luul
perforce to turn aside and come right up to his
hostelry. Tlicn ho stationed a blacksmith a niilo
or two down the road, for tho greater conven-
ience of the travellers, who were always glad to
have the feet of their mules and oxen examined.
It was very singular, however, that between tho
blacksmith's shop and .Jack's ranch so many uf
the animals should go lame; but what did that
matter, when Jack was willing to exchange a per-
fectly fresh team for the tired team, a little con-
sideration of money iicing added ? It is true that
the lame oxen became rapidly well so soon aa
they were left in Jink's possession ; but was not
that nil the more lucky for the next comers, who
were sure to find soincthiiig wrong with their
tennis lietwcen tlie Iducksmith's shop and Eaglo
Creek Itaiichy

Another peculiarity of this part of the plains
was that the neighliorlioud seemed to bo infested
with Indians, who, whether they were Utcs or
Avinpalioes, showed a surprising knowledge as to
which wagon trains were supplied witli the most
v.iimble cattle, and never stampeded an indiffer-
ent lot. These attacks were made at night, and
doubtless the poor travellers, stunned by the yells
of the red men and the tiring of guns and re-
volvers, were glad to escape witli their lives. But
on one occasion, it is rumored, an Indian would
appear to have been hurt, for he was heard to
exclaim, in a loud voice, " Iloly Jabem ! me fut !
mcful .'" Neither the Utes nor the Arrapahoes,
it was remembered, pronounce tho word " foot"
in that fashion, even when they happen to know
English, and so it came about that always afl/cr
that tliere were ugly rumors about Eagle Creek
Ranch and the men who lived there. Rut not
even the stoutest bull-whacker who ever crossed
the plains would dare to say a word on this sub-
ject to Five-Ace Jack ; he would have had a bul-
let through his head for his jiuins.

And now we take leave of "Five-Ace ilack,"
for in his siihsef|uent history he appears us "Col-
onel Sloane," " t!ie Colonel," or " tho boss." As
he grew more rich, he became more honest, as
has happened in the case of many worthy people.
His flocks and his herds increased. He dosed
the ranch as a place of entertainment — indeed,
people were beginning now to talk of all sorts of
other overland routes ; but he made it tho centre

' A vant Btn<
iidud with g
IS master w
«t was ulwn
lis MUM a wet
iiit corner o
lister, and p;
^gones bcin
III! or two II
line pnssesse
ey were no
(iiiiised well
e cuino und
opped at tl
ank petroU
itili' at thut
wtcliy, then
ve- Ace Jack
IS as briiliai
mid iniike it
iii'cli with a

I'ared to r(

ciivcr; ho w

s mines, or

M'iUmen.

It was towa

III Judge (ii

car, lieiiutifii

le goldcn-yel

ass anil lloi

.yol'Colorad

IIS inclosed I

iig wall of n

uiicly-looki

Mitnil purtioi

ii'ii the Ind

|u'l< and his

vui'iiigthep

lii'iivy logs

laiiclied out

siu'ils, pens

ilistuiitially

)lton wood f

lectfully of

nstiiig itsel

luiltteil, \\o\\

ihit defeats

irt of a ho;

way, fancies

nving to I

iSillu of it.

Tlie ('oloiic
s hogs nor i
' cattle roan
111! long, mil
iiiii; the bli
L'l'spiration;
lutig the CO
id all his wi
ipi'oaching 1
sympathy, I
ss ill laiiguii
liii Charlie v
liting-dc-k,
fiiriiitiire
ukiiig a \w\\
oceeded to
He was noi
e had had tl
iti'lope steal
imiiig thirst
u.-i, on his bi

lorioui offender
Bill had tlirce
nd Jauk wai of
vnv«r, IiIh niitid
I. Ilowuvor, h«
17 in til!: Kitin-
blu to persuade
itrikctlivirtvntD
tho wildortictH,
ho Huw a gooil
xing ruiK'h, but
vfn of pilgrirai
il) milking their
runcli ulioiit a
igou route, anil

tudp», if all sto.
pnni nutliing uf
lid not i|iiituitc.
first of ail, tliiit
by without cuii^
ion dug a lurgo
tliu di'ivei'H luiii

riglit up to Ills
it'kHuiith a niilo
HieuttT conven-

ulwiivH giad to
oxiMi examined,
at between tlio
leli 80 many uf
: nluit did tliat

im, n iittlc con-
It is truetlmt
veil so soon an
n ; but was not
ixt comers, who
ong witli their
aliop and Euglo

rt of the plains
il to lie infested
' were Utcs or
cnowledge as to
I witli tlie most
ded an indifTcr-
le at niglit, and
ncd by the yeils
if guns and re-
tlieir lives. Jiut
n Indian would
c was heard to
'abcmf me flit!
he ArrapahoeH,
le word " foot"
uippen to know
at always afl^r
lut Eagle Creek
licrc. lint not
lio ever crossed
}rd on this sub-
liavc had a bul-
1.

^ive-Acc Jack,"
ppears ns " Col-
tlie boss." As
nore honest, as
wortliy people,
ed. He closed
iimcnt — indeed,
'x of all sorts of
de it the centre

OREEN PASTURES AND PIOC.VDILLY.

' a TAUt ftock-rearinR farm, which he siiperin-
iidud with great asitiduity. He was an impori-
iit luaHter with his herderit — the phynieal force
,al was always ready to give ctTect to his dceitf-
iiH was a weaj)on that stuck upriglit in the south-
ii*t corner of his trowsers ; but ho was a just
ititter, and paid his men punctually. Moreover,
r-)((ines being by-gones, he had made an cxciir-
im or two up into "the Kockies," and had be-
iine possessed of one or two ndnes, which, though
ey were now only paying woriiing expenses,
(iiiiiHed well. Time Hies fast in the We.Mt; pco-
c come and go rapidly. When Colonel Hloano
opped at tho (irand Central of Denver, and
aiik petroleum-Champagno at four dollars a
It ill' lit tliat pretentious, dirty, aiul disagreeible
jsii'irv, there was no one to recognize him as
ve- Ace Jack. He was cleanly shaved ; his linen
iH us lu'iiliant as Chinese skill and Colorado air
mill iniiko it; he could have helped to build a
uieli witli any of them. Hut somehow ho nev-
cMfcd to remain long within tliu precincts of
I'livcr; he was eitlier up at Idaho, looking after
< mines, or out at tlie ranch, looking after his
I' Isuien.

It was toward this ranch that Buckskin Charlie
il Judge (ircek were now riding, on this cool,
I'lir, h)-iiutiful morning. All around tliem shone
le !{iil(leu-,veii(iw pvaiiie, an immeasurable sea of
ass mill ilowei's ; above tliein shone the clear

Dxehunge a per- '> "'^ Colorado ; far away on their right the world

IS inclosed by the pale, transparent blue of the
11^ wall of mountains. Eagle Creek Ranch was

ioiiely-litoking place as they neared it. The
Mitial portion of tlio buildings spoke of the times
lirii tliu Indians— the real Indians, not Five-Ace
ii'k anil his merry men — were in the habit of
('tiling tlie plains ; for it was a block-house, built
I' lu'iivy logs of pine. Hut from tiiis initial point
liiiu'lied out ail sorts of buildings and inclosures

KiuMJs, pens, stables, and whatnot, some of them
ilistiintiully erected, and others merely maile of
)tton wooii fence. Out tliere they speak disre-
it'i'tfuliy of cotton wood, because of its habit of
cisting itself into extraordinary shapes. It is
liiiitti'il, however, by tlie settlers that this very
iliit defeats the most perverse ingenuity on the
irt of a hog; for the hog, intent on breaking
way, fancies he has pot outside the fence, whore-
', owing to tliu twisting of tlie wood, he is still
side of it.

Tiie ("oIoiK'l liiy in his bed, thinking neither of
s lioi^s nor (il Ills pens, nor yet of his vast herds
' entile roaming over the fenceless prairie land.
liH long, miisuuiar, bony frame was writliing in
liii ; tlio black, disheveled hair was wet with
ispiiafion ; tlie powerful hands clutched and
rung the coarse bedclotliing. But the Colonel
lid all his wits about him ; and when Mr. Greek,
ipidacliing him, began to offer some expressions

synipatiiy, he was bidden to mind liis own busi-
ss ill language of quite irrelevant force. Buck-
liii Cliariie was ordered to bring in his master's
litiiig-dc'k, which was tlic only polished piece

fnniituie in the ranch. Then the Colonel,
akiiig a iiowcrful effort to control his writhings,
•oceeded to j;ive his instructions.
He was not going to die yet, the Colonel said,
e had had these fits before. It was only a tough
iti'Iope steak, followed by a hard ride and a con-
lining thirst too hastily quenched. But here he
ud, on his back ; and as he had nothing else to

do, ho wanted tho Judge to put down on papor

his wishes ami intentions with regard to his prop-
erty. The Colonel ailmitted that lie was u rich
man. Himself could not tell what head of cattio
he owncil. He had two placer mines in tho Clear
Creek Caflon ; and he had been offered twelve
thousand dollars f(u- the eeU'lirateillicile of Ht.Joo,
up near Oeorgetown. He had a house at Idaho
Springs. He had a share in a bank at Denver.
Now the ('olonel, in short and sharp senteiiees, in-
terrupted by a good deal <d' wriiliiii'^ and hard
swearing, said he would not leave a Inass fiutliing
— a red cent was wliiit he actually mentioned —
to any of his relatives wlio had known him in
England, for the reason that tliey liiu^w too niiieh
about him, and would be only loo glad that lio
was gone, But there was a ' (iiiiig girl who was
a niece of his. He doub''"' ulielliei' ', • had ever
seen him ; if she had, it must have W 'u u u n she
was ii child. lie had a pliologiapli ui 1,"', how-
ever, taken two or three veins bel'ore, and she wb»
a good lookinir lass. Well, he did not mind leav-
ing Ills property to her, iimler one or two condi-
tions. There he pmiscd I'"'' a time.

Five-Ace Jack was a ciiiiiiiiig person, and lie
liad brooded over this matter dining iimny a lone-
ly ride over the plains. He ilid not want hia
money to go among tlio.-o relatives of his, who
doubtless — tliciiigli tliey heard but little about liim
— regarded him as a common seoundiel. But if
he could get this pretty niece of his to eoiii" out
to the fur West witli her hiisbaiiil, iniglit iliey
not be induced to remain tliere, ami liold and re-
tain that property that hud cost the owner so
much troulile to pull togeilicrV If iliey disliked
the roughness of the iiiiieli, could any thing bo
more elegant ti:,,n the wliile wooden villa at Idaho,
with its veranda and green blinds V Tlieii he con-
sidered \',iat it was a long way I'or her to come.
If she liad children — and she miiilit have, for it
was two or three years since lie licurd she woa
married — the trouble and anxiety of bringing them
all the way from England would dispose her to
take a gloomy view of tlie place. Surely it waa
not too liard a condition tlint, in consideration of
their getting so large a property, this young Bell
and her husband sliould come out, free from in-
cumbrances of all sorts, to iive one year in Col-
orado, either at Idalio or ut Eagle Creek Ilancb,
just as they chose ?

Both the Colonel and the Judge were haehidors ;
and it did not occur to eitlier of them, when that
condition was put down on paper, that a young
woman on this side of tlie water could bo so fool-
ish as to get up with flashing eyes and say — as
actually happened in less than a year afterward
— that not for all the cattle in Colorado, and not
for all the gold in the Rocky Mountains, and not
for twenty times all the diamonds that were ever
gotten out of Golconda, would she leave her poor,
dear, darling, defenseless children for a whole
year. Just as little did they think, when tills
memorandum was finally handed over to the
Judge to be drawn out in proper form, that any
proceeding on the part of Five-Ace Jack, of Eagle
Creek Ranch, could have the slightest possible in-
fluence on tiie fortunes of Lady Sylvia Balfour.
Jack was a Colorado ranchman ; Lady Sylvia waa
the daughter of an English earl.

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

CHAPTER XIV.

FIRST IXPERIKNCE8.

Marriage is in legal phr.ase the " highest con-
HJderation ;" even the culd and unromantic eye
of the law perceives that tlie fact of a woman giv-
ing liersulf up, body and soul, to a man, is more
tliuu an equivalent for any sort of marriage set-
tlement. But at no period of the world's history
was it ever contemplated that a woman's imme-
diate duty, on becoming a wife, was forthwith to
efface her own individuality. Now this was wliat
Lady Sylvia Jelibera' '.-ly set about doing in the first
flush of her wifely devotion. As she luid mar-
ried the very source and fountain-head of all
earthly wisdom, what use was tliere in her retain-
ing opinions of her own 'i Henceforth she was
to have always at her side the lawgiver, the arbi-
ter, the infallible authority ; she wuidd surrender
to his keeping all her beliefs, just as she implieilly
surrendered lier trunks. She never thought twice
about her new dresses : what railway guard could
withstand that terrible, commanding eye?

Now little has been said to the point in these
pages about Ualfoin- if it has not been shown
that he was a man of violent prejudices. Per-
haps he was not unlike other people in that re-
spect, except in so far as lie togk little pains to
conceal his opinions. But if there was any thing
likely to cure him of prejudices, it was to see them
mimicked in the faithful and loving mirror now
always by his side ; for how could he help laugh-
ing at the unintentional distortions y lie had
been a bitter opponent of the Second Empire while
that bubble still glittered in the political atmos-
phere; but surely that was no reason why Lady
Sylvia should positively refuse to remain in Paris ?

" Gracious goodness !" said he, " have you ac-
quired a personal dislike for thirty millions of
people ? You may take my word for it, Sylvia,
that as all you are likely to know about the French
'■" by travelling among them, they are the nicest
people in the world, so far as that goes. Look at
the courtesy of the officials ! look at the trou-
ble a working-man or a peasant will take to put
you in the right road ! Believe me, you muv go
further and fare worse. Wait, for example, till
^'ou make your first plunge into Germany. Wait
till you see the Germans on board a Rhine steam-
er — their manners to strangers, their habits of
eating — "

" And then ?" she said ; " am I to form my opin-
ion of the Germans from that? Do foreigners
form their opinion of England by looking at a
ateamer-load of people going to Margate V"

" Sylvia," said he, " 1 command you to love the
French."

" I won't," she said.

But this defiant disobedience was only the cu-
rious result of a surrender of her own opinions.
She was prepared to dislike thirty millions of
human beings merely because he had cxpi '>8sed
detestation of Louis Napoleoti. And when he e>id-
ed the argument with a laugh., the laugh was not
altogether against her. From that moment he de-
termined to Ki'iiie every opportunity of pointing
out to her the virtues of the French.

Of course it was very delightful to him to have
for his companion one who came quite fresh to
all those wonders of travel which lie close around
our own door. One does not often meet nowa-
days with a young lady wlio has not seen, for ex-

ample, the Rhine under moonlight. Lady Syl<
had never been out of England. It seemed

ver by the b
ouse on the
he clear, col

her that she had crossed interminable distaua be days pass
and left her native country in a different plan And, on th

altogether, when she reached Brussels, and b Ingland thei

could not understand her husband when he si lat could clt

that in the Rue Montagne de la Cour he had i olute hush c

ways the impression that he had just stepp hose wander

round the corner from Regent Street. And si clitics in unl
tried to imagine what she would do in these i

mote places of the earth if she were all by h( > aesumeat

self — without this self-reliant guide and compi or herself —

ion, who seemed to care no more for the awf f the tired

and mysterious officials about railway statio er in Englai

he was betl
liing about

handoned h
ler glimpses
if the existei
late friends
lone in the

and the entrances to palaces than he would forti

humble and familiar English policeman

great deeds of chivalry were poor in her eyes coiihe "proposei

pared with the splendid battle waged by her hi do, in these

band against extoition ; the field of Waterloo w

nearly witnessing another fearful scene of bloo

shed, all because of a couple of francs. Then

Rhine, on the still n oonlight night, from the hi

balcony in Cologne, with the colored lights of t

steamers moving to and fro — surely it was lltirring the

alone who was the creator of this wonderful seen loonlight b

That he was the creator of some of her delight bout Nonnc

it was probable enough. o her as he

Finally they settled down in the little villa] ]g before,
of Rolandseck; and now, in this quiet retrei or this ne^
after the hurry and bustle of travelling was ov xprcssion t;
and gone, they were thrown more directly ( i in snatche
each other's society, and left to lind out whetb snd Scotchv
they could find in the companionship of cai lood. lie
other a sufficient mean.s cf passing the tin :new nothii
That, indeed, is the peril of the honey-moon p dIv as echo
riod, and it has been the origin of a fair amou ow ; and y(
of mischief. You take a busy man away fro liing of fori:
all his ordinary occupations, and you tak^ eat them t
young girl away from all her dumestic ami otli licsc old ph
pursuits, while as yet neither knows very mu iijrgest tliei
about the other, and while they have no commi ras of her t'
objects of interest — no business alTaiis, nor hoii
affairs, nor children to talk about — iind you oxpe
them to amuse each other day after d.iy, and d
after day. Conversation, in such circumstano
is apt to dwindle down into very small rills i
deed, unless when it is feared that silence may
construed into regret, and then a forced effort
made to pump up the waters. Moreover, Rolan Ir this, ngai
seek, though one of the most beautiful places
the world, is a place in which one finds it despi
alely hard to pass the time. There is the chari
ing view, no doubt, and the Balfours had corn
room^, whence they could see, under the cha
ging lights of morning, of mid-day, of sunset, ai
moonlight, the broad and rushing river, the pi
ture^.que island, the wooded and craggy height le forgot t
and the mystic range of the Drachenfels. 11
the days were still, sleepy, monotonous. Balfoi iate this fa
seated in the garden just over the river, wou r; the feeli
get the Kolnische or the Allgemeine, and glati
at the brief telegram headed " (JrossbrittannieiAat had ye
which told all that was considered to be worl is nature,
telling about his native country. Or, togetht od the res
they would clamber up through the warm vin rho have tl
yards to the rocky heights by Roland's Towi
and there let the dreamy hours go by in watcHurred to hi
ing the shadows cross the blue mountains, in fi
lowing the small steamers and the greater raf
as they passed down the stream, in listening
the tinkling of the cattle bells in the valley b
low. How many times ft day did Balfour ca

Oh, Raw ye

Ami f-ixvj
CroHfcd six:

Sought hI
Ilcr liair it

Dark is t
Red, red Ik

VVIiero ci

Ilor liosver

Tied up
And courti,

Men's iai
Blie waves

Wi' her I
And her ch

My bonn

:|.i

Like
Is

And
Ue

iRht.
Ilcl.

Lady Syl
It sucmed
minable
a different plan
Brussels, and
)and when he
la Cour he had

had just
. Street. And s
uld do in these
e were all by
guide and
lore for the awl

railway
in he would fort

policeman,
or in her eyes
waged by her
Id of Waterloo w
ful scene of
francs. Then tl
ight, from the hi
)lorcd lights of t
—surely it was
lis wonderful
le of her delight

n the little vi
tiiis quiet
ravelling was o«

more directly
o tiiid out w
anionship of cai
passing the
he honey-moon i
u of a fair umou
sy man away fre
, and you tak'
iluuiestiu ami otli
■ knows very mu
ly have no commi
!s atfaii'S, nor hoii
ut — iind you oxpe
' after d.iy, and d
uch circumstanci
very small rills i
that silence may
n a forced effort

Moreover, Rolii
beautiful places
one tinils it despi
riiere is the chan
lalfours had corn
D, under the cha
■day, of sunset, ai
liing river, the pi
.nd craggy heiglil
Drachenfela,

■ate I

vit

lotonous. fialfoi
er the river, wou
emeine, and
(i

idered to be
itry. Or, togethi
gli the warm
py Roland's Towi
rs go by in
3 mountains, in fi
d the greater raf
tam, in listening
Is in the valley b
r did Uulfour ca

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

4»

ver by the swinging ferry to the small bathing-
ouse on the other side, and there plunge into
he clear, cold, rushing green waters ? Somehow
distanc^e days passed.

And, on the whole, they passed pleasantly. In
Ingland there was absolutely nothing going on
liat could claim any one's attention ; the tirst ab-
olute hush of the recess was unbroken even by

steppi hose wandering voices that, later on, murmur of
olitics in unfrequented places. All tlie world had
one idling ; if a certain young lady had wished
a assume at once the rSle she had sketched out

compi or herself — of becoming the solace and comfort
f the tired legislator — there was no chance for

statin er in England at least. Perhaps, on the whole,

be was better occupied here in learning some-

bing about the nature of the man with whom

coi he proposed to spend a lifetime. And here,

DO, in these quiet solitudes, Balfour occasionally

bandoned his usual bantering manner, and gave

blofl er glimpses of a deep under-current of feeling,

f the existence of which not even his most inti-

late friends were aware. When they walked

lone in the still evenings, with the cool wind

tirring the avenues of walnut-trees, and the

scci loonlight beginning to touch the mists lying

bout Nonnenwerth and over the river, he talked

her as he had never talked to any human be-

illa ig before. And curiously enough, when his love

retre( or this newly found companion sought some
xprcssion that would satisfy himself, he found
t in snatches of old songs that liia nurse, a Low-
hetb^nd Scotchwoman, had sung to him in his child-
ood. He had never read these lyrics. He
tiniBnew nothing of their litvrary value. It was
nly as echoes that they came into his memory
ow ; and yet tliey satisfied him in giving some-
ling of form to his own fancies. He di(l not re-
eat them to her; but as he walked with her,
lese old phrases and chance refrains seemed to
ii{.'gest tliemsolves quite naturally. Surely it
fas of her that this was written:

Oh, Paw ye my wee tiling, and Baw yc my ain thing,

And saw ye my Inn? ](iv(! down <>ii you liia?
Crowed hIi«; the inuadow y«8ti'ee« at tlie ulouming.

Sought i^ho llie buriiio whuru ll.nvers lhenaw-tr<;e?
Her huir it im Ihit wliiti;, hur skin it is niilk wliite,

Dark is the hliie o' lier >>aft-rolliii' e'e,
lied, red lier ripe jlpx, and sweeter tlian rosea—

Where could my wee thlug wander frae me?"

Ir this, again :

Ilnr liower casement Is lattlccHl wi' flowers,

Tied up Hi' siller thread,
And courtly sits iihe in the midst.

Hen's landing eyes to I'eed ;
81ie waves flie ringlets frae her clieck

Wi' iier milky, milky lian';
And lier cheeks seen) touched wi' tlie finger o' God,

My bounic Lady Ann."

forgot that he was in the Rhine-land — the

ery cradle of lyrical romance. He did not asso-

this fair companion with any book wliatev-

; the feelings that she stirred were deeper down

glan han that, and they found expression in phrases

rossbrittannien bat had years and years ago become a part of

wurSis nature. He forgot all about Uhland, Heine,

the rest of the sweet and pathetic Fingers

ho have thrown a glamour over the Rhine Val-

ly; it was the songs of his boyhood that oc-

watcHurred to him.

" Like dew on the gowan lying
Is the fa' o' her fairy feet;
And like the winds in sammer rigldng,
Uer voice la low and aweeL"

The lines are simple enough. Perhaps they are
even commonplace. But they suHiced.

It must be said, however, that Balfour was the
reverse of an effusive person, and this young wife
very speedily discovered that his bursts of tender
confidences were likely to be few and far be-
tween. He was exceedingly chary of using en-
dearing phrases, more especially if there was »
third person present. Now she had been used to
elaborate and studied expressions of affection.
There was a good deal of histrionics about Lord
Willowby. He got into violent rages with his
servants about the merest trifles ; but these rages
were as predetermined as those of the First Na-
poleon are said to have been ; he found that it
answered his purpose to have his temper feared.
Un the other hand, his affection for his daughter
was expressed on all occasions with profuse phra-
seology — a phraseology that was a trifle mawkish
and artificial when heard by others, but which
was not so to the object of it. She had grown
accustomed to it. To her it was but natural lan-
guage. Doubtless she had been taught to believe
that all affection expressed itself in that way.

Here, again, she tried to school herself. Con-
vinced, by these rare moments of self-disclosure,
that the love he bore her was the deepest and
strongest feeling of his nature, she would be con-
tent to do witii'^ut continual protestation of it.
She would have no lip-service. Did not reticence
in such matters arise from the feeling that there
were emotions ami relations too sacred to be con-
tinually flaunted before the public gaze? Was
she to distrust the man who had married her, be-
cau.se he did not prate of his uiTcction for her
within the hearing of servants ?

The reasoning wa« admirable ; the sentiment
that prompted it altogether piaiBCwortliy. But
before a young wife begins to efface her person-
ality in this fashion, she ouglit to make sure that
she has not much personality to speak of. Lady
Sylvia had a good deal. In those Kurrey solitudes,
thrown greatly in on herself for coini)aiiionsliip,
she had acquired a certain seriousness of charac-
ter. She had very definite conceptions of the va-
rious duties of life; she had decided opinions on
many points; she had, like other folks, a firmly
fixed prejudice or two. For her to imagine that
she could wipe out her own individuality, as if
it were a sum on a slate, and inscribe in itr< stead
a whole series of new opinions, was mere folly.
It was prompted by the most generous of mo-
tives, but it was folly none the less. Obviously,
too, it was a necessary corollary of this effort at
self-surrender, or rather self-effacement, that her
husband should not be made aware of it ; she would
be to him, not what she was, but what she thought
she ought to be.

Hypersubtleties of fancy and feeling? the re-
sult of delicate rearing, a sensitive temperament,
and a youth h.,ient much in solitary self-com-
munion ? Perhaps they were ; but they were real
for all that. They were not affectations, but facts
—facts involving as important issues as the sim-
pler feelings of less complex and cultivated na-
tures. To her they were so real, so all-important,
that the whole current of her life was certain to
be guided by them.

During this pleasant season but one slight
cloud crossed the shining heaven of their new
life. They had received letters in the morning;
in the evening, aa they sat at dinner, Lady Syl-

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

via suddenly said to her husband, with a sort of
childish iiiippiiioss in her face,

" Oh, Hugh, iiow delightful it must be to be n
very rich person ! I am eagerly looking forward
to that first thousand pounds — it is a whole thou-
sand pounds all at once, is it notV Then you
must put it in a bank for me, and let me have a
check-book."

" I wonder what you will do with it," said he.
" I never could understand 'vhat women did with
their private money. I suppose they make a pre-
tense of paying for their own dress ; but as a
matter of fact they have every thing given them —
jewelry, flowers, bonnets, gloves — "

"I know," said she, with a slight blush, "what
I should like to do with my money."

" Well V" said he. Of course she had some ro-
Tnantiu notion in her head. She would open a
co-operative store for the benefit of the inhabit-
ants of Happiness Alley, and make Mrs. Grace
the superintendent. S'le would procure "a day
in the country" for all tlie children in the slums
of Seven Dials. She would start a fund for
erecting a gold statue to Mr. Plimsoll.

" You know," said she, with an embarrassed
smile, " that papa is very poor, and I think those
business matters have been harassi'ig him more
than ever of late. lam suie, Hii:rh '?ar, you
are quite right about women not m ■;uiiig money
of their own — at least I know I have never felt
the want of it much. And now don't you think
it would please poor papa if I were to surprise
him some morning with a check for a whole
thousand pounds ! I should feel myself a mill-
ionaire."

He showed no surprise or vexation. He mere-
ly said, in a cold way,

" If it would please you, Sylvia, I see no objec-
tion."

But immediately after dinner he went out, say-
ing he meant to go for a walk to some village
on the other side of the Rliine — too distant for
her to go. He lit a cigar, and went down to the
ferry. The good-natured ferryman, who knew
Balfour well, said " 'n Abend, Heir." Why should
this sulkj--browed man mutter in reply, "The
swindling old heathen !" It was quite certah'
that Balfour could not have referred to the 1
friendly ferryman.

He walked away along the dusty and ?ilo .;
road, in tlie gathering twilight, pufiiug his cigii;
fiercely.

" At it alread}'," he was saying to himself, bit-
terly. " He could not let a week pass. And the
child comes to me with her pretty ways, and
says, ' Oil, won't you pity this poor oW swindler «'
And of course I am an impressionable young
man ; and in the first flush of conjugal gratitude
and enthusiasm I will do whatever slie asks; and
so the letter comes within the very first week !
By the Lord, I will stop that kind of thing as
soon as I gel buck to London !"

He retiM'ned to the hotel about ten o'clock.
Lady Sylvia had gone to her room ; he went
there, and found her crying bitterly. And as
she would not tell him why she was in such
grief, how could he be expected to know? He
thought he had acted very generously in at once
acceding to her proposal ; and there could not be
the slightest doubt that the distance to that par-
ticular village was much too great for her to at-
tempt,

CHAPTER XV.

A N£W ACQUAINTANCE.

At breakfast next morning. Lady Sylvia ajv
peared as cheerful as possible. She was quitt
talkative, and was more charmed than ever with
the beauties of the Rhine. No reference waj
made to that little incident of the pre- 'ous even-
ing.

She had been schooling herself as usual. Wai
it not natur'l for him to show some resentment
at this foolish school-girl notion of presenting a
.4'1000 bank-note to her father? Her husband
could not be expected to share in her romantic
notions. He was a man of the world. And had

that her eye
he was to 1
Ijeautiful pi
through a n

" Uillo !"

ping on boa

if there isn'

"Who is
impulse was
jer.

"Oh, the
four, who a
ia a Parliam
that's been
and every th

he not shown his generosity and unfailing con. '"^^ ''ji"?.*!

sideration in not only assenting to her proposal,

but in going off to conceal his natural disapprov. iDost to avo

al ? Her woman's eyes had been too quick ; that

was all.

On the other hand, Balfour, delighted to find
his young wife in such good spirits, could not
think of reviving a matter which might lead to a
quarrel. She might give her father the thou,
sand pounds, and welcome. Only he, Balfour,
would take very good care, as soon as he goi
back to England, that that was the kst applica
tion of the kind.

Now, the truth was, there had been no such
application. Lord Willowby had written to hi;
daughter, and she had received the letter; bul
there was not in it a single word referring to
money matters. A simple inquiry and a simple
explanation would h.ave prevented all this un
pleasantness, which might leave traces behind it.
Why had not these been forth-coming? Wiiy
indeed ! How many months before was it thai
Balfour was urging his sweetheart to fix an earlj
day for their wedding, on the earnest plea that
marriage was the only guarantee against mis-
understandings? Only with marriage came p;r.
feet confidence. Marriage was to be tiie perpot
ual safeguard against the dangers of separation,
the interference of friends, the mischief wroiigii
by rumor. In short, marriage was to bring aboiii
the millennium. That is the belief that has got
Into the heads of a good many young people be.
sides Mr. Hugh Balfour and Lady Sylvia BIythe,

I'ut as they were now quite cheerful and
' ' a?od with each other, whatmore was wanted
Anr . was a bright and beautiful day; and soon
i'. . Ucamcr would be coming up the river to take
them on to Coblentz, that tliey might go up tlie
Moselle. As they stood on the small wooden
pier. Lady Sylvia, looking abroad on the beautiful
panorama of crag and island and river, said to
lier husband in a low voice,

'Shall we ever forget this place? And the
still days wo spent here?"

" I will give you this advice, Sylvia," said ho.
" If j-ou want to remember liolaudseck, don't
keep any photograph of it in England. That
will only (leaden and vulgarize the place; and
you will {rradiially have the photograph dispos-
sessing your memory picture. Look, now, and
remember. Look at the color of the Rhine, and
the shadows under the trees of the island there,
and the sunshine on those blue mountains).
Don't you think you will always be able to re-
member ?"

She did not look at all. She suddenly turned
away her head, for she did not wish him to see

NCE.

Lady Sylvia ajv

She was quitt

:d than ever with

reference was
lie pre- 'ou3 even.

f as usual. Wai
some resentmeni

1 of presenting a
? Her husband
in her romantic

world. And liad
id unfailing con.
to her proposal,
atural disapproT. most
n too quick ; that

lowi

delighted to find
ipirits, could not
h might lead to a
father the thou.
)nly he, Balfour,
soon as he got
the last applica.

id been no sucb
id written to hii
I the letter; but
ford referring to
liry and a simple
ited all this un
traces behind it.
-coming? Why
sfore was it tliai
irt to fix an earlj
jarnest plea that
itee against mis-
irriage came p ;r.
to be the perpot
rs of separation
iiischief wrought
as to bring about
;lief that lias got
young people be-
ly Sylvia Blytiie,
to cheerful and
lore was wanted!
ul day ; and soon
I tiie river to take
migiit go up the
le small wooden
I on tlie beautiful
md river, said to

)lace? And tlie

Sylvia," said he,

olandscck, don't

England. Tiiiit

tlie place; and

otograph dispos

Look, now, ami

f the Rhine, and

tiie island there,

blue mountains,

s be able to re-

suddenly turned
wish him to see

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

hat her eyes had filled. It was not the last time
ihe was to look at Rolandseck — or rather at the
beiiutiful picture that memory painted of it —
hrough a mist of tears.

" Uillo !" cried her husband, as they were step-
ping on board the Kaiser Wilhelm, " I'm hanged
if tliero isn't Billy Bolitho!"

" Who is he V" said she, timidly. Her first
impulse was to shrink from meeting any stran-
ger.

" Oh, the best fellow in the world," said Bal-
four, who appeared to be greatly pleased. " He
is a Parliamentary agent. Now j'ou will hear all
that's been going on. Bolitho knows every body
and every thing ; and, besides, he is the best of fel-
s himself."

Mr. Bolitho, with much discretior, did his ut-
to avoid running against these two young
people ; but that was of no i' ;e. Balfour hunted
Lim up, and brought him along to introduce him
to Lady Sylvia. He was an elderly gentleman,
with silvery white whiskcr.i, a bland and benevo-
lent face, and remarkably shrewd and humorous
eye.'*. He was very re.fpectful to Lady Sylvia,
lie renuirked to her that he had the pleasure of
knowing her father ; but, as Balfour put in, it
would have iieen hard to find any one whom Mr.
Bolitho (lid not know.

And liow strange it was, after these still days
in the solitude by the Rhine, to plunge back again
into English j)()litics ! The times were quiet
enough in England itself just at the moment; but

•t'lit events had recently been happening, and
these iitt'onled plenty of matter for eager di,scus-
sion and speculation. Lady Sylvia listened intent-
ly : was it not part of her education ? She heard
their guesses as to the political future. Would
the Piinie Minister be forced to dissolve before
the spring ? Or would he not wait to see the ef-
fect on the country of the reconstruction of the
cabinet, and app^'ar in PVbruary with a fascina-
ting budget, wliici. would charm all men's hearts,
and pave the way for a triumphant majority at
the general election? All this she could follow
pretty well. She was puzzled when they spoke
of the alleged necessity of the Prime Minister
seeking re-elcetion on assuming the ofHce of Chan-
cellor of the E.xehequer ; and she did not quite
''now what league it was that was likely to oppose
— according to rumor — the re-election at Birming-
ham of a statesman who had just been taken into
the cabinet. But all this about the chances of a
dissolution she could understand pretty well ; and
was it not of sufficient interest to her, consider-
ing that her husband's seat iu the Hon^'j was iu
peril ?

But when they got into the pcrmmid of poli-
tics she was lost altogether. There were rumors
of a still further reconsiiuction of the ministry ;
and the chances of appointments falling to such
and such people brought out such a host of de-
tails about the position of various men whose
names even were unknown to her that she got not
a little bewildered. And surely this garrulous,
bland old gentleman talked with a dreadful cyn-
icism about public affairs, or rather about the
men engaged in them. And was not his talk af-
fecting her husband too ? Was it true that these
were the real objects which caused this man to
pose as a philanthropist and the other to preside
at religious meetings ? She began to find less and
less humor in these remarks of Mr. Bolitho. She

would like to have carried her husband away from
the sphere of his evil influence.

" I suppose now, Balfour," said he, " you have
been taking a look round * You know, of course,
that Ballinascroon will make short work of you?"

" Yes, I know that," said the other.

" Well," said Mr. Bolitho, " they say that we
sha'n't know what the government mean to do
until Bright's speech in October. I have a sus-
picion that something besides that will happen in
October. They may fancy a bold challenge would
tell. Now, suppose there was a dissolution, where
would you be V"

" Flying all over the countrj', I suppose — Eves-
ham, Shoreham, Woodstock, Harwich, any where
— seeing where I could get some rest for the sole
of my foot."

" If r were you," said Mr. Bolitho, " I would not
trust to a postponement of the dissolution till the
spring. I would take my measures now."

"Very well, but where? Come, Bolitho, put
me on to a good thing. I know you have always
half a dozen boroughs in vou'- pocket."

"Well," said Mr. Bolitho to Lady Sylvia,
with a cheerful smile, " your husband wishes to
make me out a person of some importance,
doesn't he? But it is really an odd coincidence
that I should run across him to-day ; for, as it
happens, 1 .lui going on to Mainz to see Eugy
Chorley, and that is a man of whom you might
fairly say that he carries a borough iu his pocket
— PJnglobury."

" That's old Ilarnden's place. What a slianio it
would be to try to oust the old fellow !" said Bal-
four.

" Oh, he is good for nothing," said Mr. Bolitho,
gayly. "Ii(^ ought to.be in a Bath-chair, at
Brighton. Besides, he is very unpopular; he
has been spending no money lately. And I sup-
pose you have got to oust somebody somewhere
if you mean to sit in the House."

" But wiiat are his politics ?" said Lady Sylvia
to this political pagan.

" Oh, nothing in particular. Formerly, if there
was a free fight going on any where, he was
sure to be in it — though you never could tell on
which side. Now he limits himself to an occa-
sional growl."

"And you would have my husband try to turn
out this poor old gentleman ?" said Lady Sylvia,
with some indignation.

" Why not ?" said Mr. Bolitho, with a cha;'ming
smile. "How many men has Harnden turned
out in his time, I wonder? Now, Lady Sylvia,
you could be of great use to your husband if you
and he would only come straight on with me to

Mainz. Mr. Chorley and his wife are at the

j Hotel. He is a solicitor at Eng'ebury; he is the
; great man there, does all the parochial business,
I is a friend of the Duke's — in short, he can do
I what he likes at Englcbnry. Your husband
; would have to conciliate him, you know, by put-
' ting a little business in his way- buying a few
farms or houses on speculation and selling them
again. Or, stay, this is better. Eugy wants to
sell a few acres of land he himself has. i be-
lieve he stole the piece from the side of an out-
of-the-way common — first had a ditch cut for
drainage, then put up a few posts, then a wire to
keep children from tumbUng in, then, a couple of
years after, he boldly ran a fence round and
cleared the place inside. I suppose no one dared

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

to interfere with a man who had the private af-
fairs of evci V one in the parish in iiis hands. Well,
I Uiink Mr. i horley, when he sees all this fuss go-
ing on about inclosures, sometimes gets uneasy.
Now your hu..l/aud might buy this laud of him."

"For what purpose, pray?" demanded Lady
Sylvia, with some dignity. "Do I understand
you that this land was stolen from the poor peo-
ple of the village ?"

" Yes," said Mr. Bolitho, coolly. " And your
husband could give it back to them — make a pub-
lic green of <t, and put up a gymnasium. That
would have t\. be done after the election, of
course."

"And how do you propose that I should aid
my husband ?" asked Lady Sylvia. Balfour, who
was listening in silent amusement, could not un-
derstand why she grew more and more chill in
her demeanur.

" Oh," snid Mr. Bolitho, with a shrewd smile,
" you will have to conciliate Mrs. Chorley, who is
much the more terrible person of the two. I am
afraid. Lady Sylvia, you don't know much about
politics."

" No," said Lady Sylvia, coldly.

"Of course not — not to be expected. She
won't be hard in her catechising. But there are
one or two poiuts she is rather fierce about. You
will have to let the English Church go."

"To let the English Church go?" said Lady
Sylvia, doubtfully.

" I mean as a political institution."

" But it is not a political institution," said Lady
Sylvia, (ii inly.

" I mean as a political question, then," said Mr.
Bolitho, blandly. " Pray don't imagine that I am
in favor of disestablishment. Lady Sylvia. It is
not my business to have any opinions. I dare
not bolonj? eitiier to the Reform or to the Carl-
ton. I was merely poiniing out that if Mrs. Choi--
ley s(<uaks about discstabiishincnt, it would not
be wortii your while to express any decided view,
supposing you wore not inclined to agree with
her. Tiiat is all. You see, Mrs. Chorley is the
daughter of the grea; ymtkcress, Mrs. Dew— of
course you have heard of herV"

"No, 1 have not," said Lady Sylvia.

" Dear me ! Before your time, I suppose. But
she was a delightful old woman — the dearest lit-
tle old lady! How well I r«uiember her! Siie
used to live in Biounisbiuy Square, and she had
supper parties every Tuesday and Friday even-
ing; it is five-and-tliirty years ago since I went
to those parties. Mrs. Dow was a widow, you
know, and she presided at the table; and when
supper was over she used to get up and propose
a series of toasts in the most delightful prim and
precise manner. She was a great politician, you
must understand. And many men used to come
there of an evening who became very celebrated
persons afterward. Dear me, it's a long time
since then ! But I shall never forget the little
woman standing up with a glass of toast and wa-
ter in her hand — she did not drink wine — and
gi\ ing the health of some distinguished guest, or
begging them to drink to the success of a bill be-
fore the House; and we always drank her health
before we left, and she used to give us such a
pretty little old-fashioned courtesy. Mrs. Chor-
ley," added Mr. Bolitho, with a grim smile, " is not
quite such another."

" But do you mean," said Lady Sylvia, with some

precision, " that because Mrs. Chorley is the daugb.
ter of a Quakeress, I am to pretend to wish for
the destruction of the Church of England — mj
own Church V

" My dear Lady Sylvia !" cried Mr. Bolitho,
with a sort of paternal familiarity, "you must
not put it in that way."

But here Balfour interposed ; for he perceived
that she was becoming a trifle warm, and a young
husband is anxious that his wife should acquit
herself well before his friends.

" Look here, Sylvia," he said, good-humoredly,
" I suppose neither you nor I have any very keen
personal interest in that question. No doubt the
Church of England will be disestablished in time,
and before that time comes it will be well to pre-
pare for the change, so that it may be effected
with as little harm and as little harahness as pos.
sible. But the severance of the connection be-
tween Church and state has nothing to do with
the destruction of the Church ; it is a political
question ; and if Mrs. Chorley or any body else is
so constituted as to take a frantic interest in sucli
a thing, why should any other person goad her
by contradiction ? The opinions of Mrs. Chorlc;
won't shift the axis of the earth."

" You mistake me altogether, Hugh," said Ladj
Sylvia. " I have not the slighest intention of en-
tering into any discussion on any topic whatsoever
with Mrs. Chorley."

Of course not- She already regarded Mi-s-
Chorley, and all her views and opinions, no mat-
ter what they were, with a sovereign contempt.
For was it not this unholy alliance into which
her husband seemed inclined to enter, that was
the cause of his speaking in a slighting, indiffer-
ent manner about subjects which ougiit '- I'.ave
been of supreme importance to him V And the
cheerful and friendly face of Mr. Bolitho pleased
her no longer.

"Are we going on to Mainz, then ?" she asked
of her husband.

"I think we might as well," said he. "There
ciin be no harm in seeing tliis potentate, at all
events. And we can go up the Moselle another
time."

So he abandoned, at a moment's notice, that
voyage up the beautiful river to wliich she had
been looking forward for many a day, merely that
ho should go on to see whether, he could bribe a
solicitor into betraying a constituency. She knew
that her noble husband could never have done
this but under the malign influence of this god-
less old man, whose only notion of the British
Constitution was that it offered him the means of
earning a discreditable livelihood. And she, too,
was *n tnke her part in the conspiracy.

" You know. Lady Sylvia," said Mr. Bolitho,
with a pleasant smile, " there is one thing will
conciliate Mrs. Chorley more than your agreeing
with her about politics ; and that is the fact that
you are your father's daughter."

She did not quite understand at first. Then it
dawned upon her that they hoped to bring Mrs.
Chorley into a friendly mood by introducing that
political termagant to the daughter of an earl
Lady Sylvia, who had retired into her guide-book,
and would listen no more to their jargon of poli-
tics, resolved that that introduction would be of
such a nature as Mrs. Chorley had never experi-
enced before in the whole course of her miser-
able, despicable, and ignominious life.

It was 1
there was
ready, beca
ordered, th«
outside, tha
repast. M
turned out
cooked; so
thing else,
in the grei
about ten
ting-room
dered.

There wa
to have got
against Mr.
gotten by t
different
and tender
now though
liquid lustr(
her sweet n
haunt of ai
when Mr. oi
Sng about t
the apartm
Mr. Bolitho
via Balfour
lent about t
to awaken
Mrs. Chork
woman, wit
and decided
over her sil
with the yoi
She was si
would not 1
Siie would I
for Lady Sy
Slio did no
listening, in
of her hus
mercenary
constituenc

One thin]
her husban
flattery or 1
lay all the <
ncss that tt
ncs9 of otl
was in very
Eug>?nius C
audacity,
horsy -looki
face wrinkl
rately clipp
neck-tie, wi
was 8hrew(
very respec
distrusted j
what price
stared.

"My fri(
a careless
there, Mr. <
If I were 1
garden, wo
vastly grat

Here Mr

>rIeTistbedaugli.
;tend to wish for
of England — m;

lied Mr. Bolitho,
irity, "you must

for he perceived
irm, and a young
fe should acquit

good-humoredl;,
ve any very keen
1. No doubt the
;ablisl)ed in time,
ill be well to pro.
may be effected
larshness aa pos-
e connection be-
thing to do with
it is a political
' any body else ia
3 interest in such
person goad her
9 of Mrs. Chorlcj

lugh," said Lady
, intention of en-
topic whatsoever

' regarded Mrs.
ipinions, no mat-
ireign contempt
ancc into which
I enter, that was
ligliting, indiffer-
I) ought »- have
hiinV And tiie
Bolitho pleased

en ?" she asked

lid he. "There
puleutate, at all
Moselle another

nt's notice, thai
which she had
day, merely that
le could bribe a
)ncy. She knew
L'ver have done
ice of this god-
of the British
m the means of
And she, too,
iracy.

id Mr. Bolitho,

one thing will

your agreeing

ia the fact th»t

first. Then it
I to bring Mrs.
itroducing that
ter of an carL
ler guide-book,
jargon of poli-
>n would be of
never experi-
! of her miser-
life.

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLT.

CHAPTER XVI.

IHC 00N8PIRAT0II&

It WB8 late when they arrived at Mainz, and
there was some little delay about getting supper
ready, because, s quarter of an hour after it v/am
ordered, they heard the squealing of a young cock
outside, that being the animal destined for their
repast. Moreover, when the fowl appeared, he
turned out to be a tough little beast, only half
cooked ; so they sent him away, and had some-
thing else. For convenience* sake they supped
in the great, gaunt, empty Speise-s&al. It was
about ten o'clock when they went up to the sit-
ting-room on the first floor which they had or-
dered.

There was thus plenty of time for Lady Sylvia
to have got over the first fierce feeling of wrath
against Mr. and Mrs. Chorley, which had been be-
gotten by the cynicism of Mr. Bolitho and the in-
dilTerenoe of her husband. Surely those large
and tender blue-gray eyes — which her husband
ponr thought had more than ever of the beautiful
liquid lustre that had charmed him in the days of
her sweet maidenhood — were never meant as the
haunt of an incontroUable rage? And, indeed,
when Mr. and Mrs. Chorley, who had been wander-
ing about the town on foot, were brought up to
the apartment at that late hour of the night by
Mr. Bolitho, and introduced to Mr. and Lady Syl-
via Balfour, there was nothing hideous or repel-
lent about the political Gorgon, nothing calculated
to awaken dismay or disgust. On the contrary,
Mrs. Chorley, who was a tall, motherly- looking
woman, with a fresh-colored face, gray hair, thin
and decided lips, and blue eyes that stared at one
over her silver spectacles, was more than friendly
with the young girl. She was almost obsequious.
She was sure Lady Sylvia must be so tired ;
would not Lady Sylvia have a cup of tea now ?
She would be so pleased if she could do any thing
for Lady Sylvia. Lady Sylvia sat proud and cold.
She did not like to be fawned upon. She was
listening, in indignant silence, for the first efforts
of her husband and Mr. Bolitho to cajole this
mercenary solicitor into betraying an English
constituency.

One thing she might have been sure of — that
her husband would not be guilty of any tricks of
flattery or hypocrisy to gain his end. His faults
lay all the other way — in a bluntness and direct-
ness that took too small account of the sensitive-
ness of other people. And on this evening he
was in very good spirits, and at once attacked Mr.
Eug'inius Chorley with a sort of gay and friendly
audacity. Now Mr. Chorley was a little, dapper,
horsy -looking man, with shrewd, small eyes, a
face wrinkled and red aa a French rennet, accu-
rately clipped whiskers, and a somewhat gorgeous
neck-tie, with a horseshoe in emeralds in it. He
was shrewd, quick, and clever ; but he was also
very respectable and formal, and he disliked and
distrusted jokes. When Balfour gayly asked him
what price Englebury put upon itself, he only
stared.

" My friend Bolitho," continued Balfour, with
a careless smile, " tells me you've got some land
there, Mr. Chorley, of no particular use to you.
If I were to buy that, and turn it into a public
garden, wouldn't the inhabitants of Englebury be
»»8tly grateful tome y"

Here Mr. Bolitho etrack in, yery red in the face.
D

" Of course you undentand, Chorley, that is
mere nonsense ; we were having a joke about it
OP the steamer. But really now, you know, we
may have a general election in October ; and Mr.
Balfour is naturally anxfous to fix on some bor-
ough where he may uave a reasonable chao'^e, as
Ballinascroon in sure to bid him good-by ; and I
have heard rumors that old Harnden was likely to
retire. You, as the most important man in the
borough, would naturally have great influence in
selecting a candidate."

It was a broad hint — a much franker exposi-
tion of the situation than Mr. Bolitho at all liked ;
but then the reckless audacity of this young man
had compromised him.

"I see," said the small, pink-faced solicitor,
with his hands clasping his knee ; and then he
added, gravely — indeed, solemnly — "You are
doubtless aware, Mr. Balfour, that your expressed
intention of giving the inhabitants a public gar-
den would become a serious matter for you in the
event of there being a petition y"

" Oh," said Balfour, with a laugh, " I aha'n't
express any intention. You would never think
of repeating a private chat we had one evening
by the Rhine. The people of Englebury would
know nothing about it till long after the election ;
it would only be a reward for their virtuous ton-
duct in returning so admirable a representative
as myself."

Mr. Chorley did not like this fashion of treat-
ing so serious a matter; in the conduct of the
public affairs of Englebury he was accustomed
to much recondite diplomacy, caucus meetings,
private influence, and a befitting gravity.

" There is a number of our people," said he,
cautiously, "dissatisfied with Mr. 'Arnden."

" Parliament really wants some fresh blood in
it," urged Mr. Bolitho, who would have been glad
to see a general election every three months; for
his Parliamentary agency was not at all confined
to looking after the passage of private bills.

"And his connection with Macleary has done
him harm," Mr. Chorlev again admitted.

" Oh, that fellow !" "cried Balfour. " Well, I
don't think a man is responsible for the sins of his
brother-in-law ; and old Harnden is an honest and
straightforward old fellow. But Macleary ! I know
for a fact that he received £300 in hard cash for
talking out a bill on a AVednesday near the end
of this very session. Let him charge me with h-
bel, and I will prove it. Thank goodness, 1 am
free in that respect. I am not hampered by hav-
ing a blackguard for a brother-in-law — "

He stopped suddenly, and Lady Sylvia, looking
up, was surprised by the expression of his face, in
which a temporary embarrassment was blended
with a certain angry frown. He hurried on to
say something else ; she sat and wondered. What
could he mean by this allusion to a brother-in-law ?
He had no ^rother-in-law at all. She was recalled
from thcjC bewildered guesses by the assiduous
attentions of Mrs. Chorley, who was telling Lady
Sylvia about all the beautiful places which she
must visit, although Lady Sylvia treated these at-
tentions with but scant courtesy, and seemed much
more deeply interested in this electioneering plot.

For it was as a plot that she distinctly regard-
ed this proposal ; and she was certain that her
husband would never have been drawn into it but
for the evil influence of this worldling, this wily
serpent, this jester. And what was this that they

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

were saying now ? — that Englebury had no poli-
tics at all ; that it was all a matter of personal
preference; that the Dissenters in that remote
and rustic paradise had not even thought of rais-
ing the cry of disestablishment; and that Balfour,
if he resolved to contest the scat, would have a
fair chance of success. Balfour had grown a trifle
more serious, and was making inquiries. It ap-
peared that Mr. Chorley was not much moved by
political questions ; his wife was a Dissenter, but
he was not. Very probably Mr. Harnden would
resign. And the only probable rival whom Bal-
four would in that case encounter was a certain
Reginald Key, who was a native of the place, and
had once represented a neighboring borough.

"Confound that fellow!" said Mr.Bolitho; "is
he back in England again? It doesn't matter
which party is in power, they can't get him killed.
They've sent him, time after time, to places that
invalid every Englishman in a couple of years ;
and the worse the place is the better he thrives
— comes back smiling, and threatens to get into
Parliament again if they don't give him a better
appointment. What a nuisance he used to be in
the House ! But certainly the feeblest thing I
ever knew done by a Liberal government was
their sending him out to the Gold Coast — as if
twenty Gold Coasts could kill that fellow ! Don't
you be afraid of him, Balfour. The government
will get him out of the way somehow. If they
can't kill him, they will at leas;, pack him out of
England. So you think, Chorley, that our friend
here has a chance ?"

Mr. Chorley looked at his wife : so far the ora-
cle had not spoken. She instantly answered that
mute appeal.

" I should sny a very good chance," she ob-
served, with a friendly smile, " a very excellent
chance; and I am perhaps in a better position to
sound the opinions of our people than my hus-
band is, for, of course, he has a great deal of busi-
ness on his iianJs. No doubt it would be a great
advantage if j'ou had a house in the neighbor-
hood. And I am sure Lady Sylvia would soon
become very popular : if I may say so, I am sure
she would become the popular candidate."

Surely all things were going well. Had this
important ally been secured, and not a word said
about disestablishment? It was Lady Sylvia
who now spoke.

" I must beg you," saiil the girl, speaking in
clear tones, with her face perhaps a trifle more
proud and pale than usual — " I must beg you to
leave nie out of your scheme. I must say it
seems to me a singular one. You meet us, who
are strangers to you, by accident in a foreign
country ; and without consulting the gentleman
who is at present your member, and without con-
sulting any of the persons in the town, and with-
out asking a word about my husband's opinions
or qualiflcations, you practically invite him to
represent the constituency in Parliament. All
that happens in an hour. Well, it is very kind
of you ; but it seems to me strange. Perhaps I
ought not to ask why you should be so kind.
There has been a talk about presenting a public
green to the people ; but I can not suppose you
could be influenced by so paltry a bribe. In any
case, will you be so good as to leave me, at least,
out of the scheme ?"

All this was said very quietly, and it was with
a sweet courtesy that she rose and bowed to them

and left the room ; but when she had gone thi
looked as if a thunder-bolt had fallen in the mid
of them. Balfour broke the silence ; he was
surprised as the others, but he was far mo
deeply vexed.

" That shows the folly," said he, with an ang
look on his face, " of allowing women to n
themselves up in politics — I mean unmani
women — I mean young women of no experiiin
who take every thing au grand siriatx. I
sure, Mrs. Chorley, you will allow me to apologi
for my wife's conduct ; she herself will be sor
enough when she has time to reflect."

" Pray don't say another word, Mr. Balfoui
Mrs. Chorley replied ; but all the bright frieiii
ness had gone from her face, and she spoke cold:
" I have no doubt Lady Sylvia is a little tired
travelling — and impatient ; and, indeed, my In
band and myself ought not to have intruded oi
selves upon her at so late an hour. I have
doubt it is eleven o'clock, Eugenius ?"

Her husband rose, and they left together. Tl
Mr. Bolitho put his hands into his pocket
stretched out his legs.

•' The fat's in the fire," said he.

For a second Balfour felt inclined to pici
fierce quarrel with this man. Vv^as it not he w
had led him into this predicament ? and what
he care for all the constituencies and soliciti
and agents that c-cr were seen as compared w
this desperate business that had arisen betw
him and his young wife ?

But he controlled himself. He would not c
show that he was vexed.

" Women don't take a joke," said he, ligh
" Besides, she knows little about actual life,
is all theory with her; ard she has high noti
about what people should be and do. It wa
mistake to let her know any thing about elcci
affairs."

" I thought she was deeply interested," s
Mr. Bolitho. " However, I hope no harm is di
You will see old Chorley to-morrow before t
leave; he is a decent sort of fellow; he w
bear a grudge. And from what he says, it
pears clear to me that Harnden does really ni
to resign ; and Chorley could pull you throng
he likes — his wife being favorable, that is.
no more at present about the buying of that 1
of his. I am afraid he felt that."

Bolitho then went, and Balfour was left &l
He began pacing up and down the room, bi
the end of a cigar which he did not light,
could not understand the origin of this outbi

"II

"W(

•close t(

little nn

"Id

should

"Tlu

were nc

have CO

remainc

some in

"Ho>

said, wi

you in t

to see 3

mined t

their ur

that you

ally mea

his trust

"My

don't un

world, ai

say. I (

bit of lai

been spc

innocent

could be

would n<

ward. L

giving M

acquaintc

"I kn

cheeks.

your frie

that I, u

scheme."

" Your

matter-of

mistakabi

you have

had of go

"Ishoi

"Do y(
Bstonishm

tive girl of having such a temper. Where
she got the courage, too, that enabled he

speak with such clear decision ? He bega you mean

wonder whether he had ever really discov tijat I sho
what the character of this girl was during i There

quiet rambles in tne by-gone times. ,jy husbm

He went into her room and found her seatc ]o heed

an easy-chair, reading by the light of a sol
candle. She put the book aside when he enti
He flattered himself that he could deal with
matter in a gentle and friendly fashion : he w
not have a quarrel in their honey-moon.

" Sylvia," said he, in a kindly way, "It
you have successfully put your foot in it
time."

She did not answer.

" What made you insult those people so }

liament
soul wtw
Well,
me to be
as my ow

"Oh,
business-l
cruelly,
back soor

will go
plenty for

He had never suspected that placid, timid, s( jn Londor

tc
ihe spoke

"If thi
lot wish
ng your f
ie of use
y to intei
;etting th
)i'al)le tha

He pau
adly euoi

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

she had gone thi
fuUen in the m\i

silence ; he was J
he was far mol

" I hope I did not insult them," she said.

*' Well," he said, with a laugh, " it was getting
■close to it. 1 must say, you might have shown a
little more consideration to friends of mine — "

"I did not regard tlicm as friends of yours. I
should be sorry to do that."

" They were, at all events, human beings ; they
were not black beetles. And I think you migiit
have considered my intcru.st a litti<; bit, and have
remained silent, even if you had conjured up
some imaginary jaiise of offense — "

"How could I remain .silent?" she suddenly
said, with vehemence. "I was ashamed to see
you in the society of such people ; I was ashamed
to see you listening to them ; and I was detei-
mined that I, for one, would not be drawn into
their unblushing conspiracy. Is it true, Hugh,
that you mean to bribe that man ? Does he re-
oily mean to accept that payment for betraying
his trusty"

" My dear child," said he, impatiently, " you
don't under.^tand such things. The world is the
world, and not the paradise of a school-girl's es-
say. I can assure you that if I were to buy that
bit of land from Ciiorlcy — and so far it has only
been spoken of as a joke — that would be a very
innocent transaction as things go; and there
could be no bribing of the constituency, for they
would not know of the public green till after-
ward. Bribery? There was more bribery in
giving Mrs. Cliorley the honor of making your
acriuiiintance — "

"I know thut," said the girl, with flushed
cheeks. " I gathered that from the remarks of
your friend Mr. Bolitlio. And I was resolved
that I, at least, would keep out of any such
scheme."

"Your superior virtue," said Balfour, in a
r thing about elect matter-of-fact way, " has assorted itself most un-
mistakably. I shall not, be surprised to find that
you have killed off the best chance I could have
had of getting into the next Parliament."

" I should be sorry to see you get into any Par-
liament by such means," she said ; for her whole
soul wim in revolt against this infamous proposal.

" Well, at all events," said he, " you must leave
me to be the best judge of such matters, as far
as my own conduct is concerned."

"Oh, I will not interfere," she said, with a
business-like air, though her lienrt was throbbing
cruelly. " On the contrary. If you wish to get
back soon, in order to look after this borough,
I will go whenever you please. Tiiere will be
plenty for me to do at The Lilacs while you are
in London."

" Do you mean," said he, regarding her with
that enabled he astonishment, " when we return to England, do
iision ? He bega you mean that you will go down to Surrey, and
;ver really discoyjthat I should remain in Piccadilly ?"

There was a voice crying in her heart, "

niy himband — m;i Imsband!" but she would pay

nd found herseate no heed to it. Her face had got pale again, anil

i he, with an anj
ng women to uj
[ mean unmanii
a of no experi'.iK
and sintta. I
low me to apologi
crself will be soi
reflect."

word, Mr. Balfoui
the bright friend
nd she spoke cold
a is a little tired
ind, indeed, my lii
) have intruded oi
n hour. I have
genius ?"
left together. Tli
nto his pocket a

dhe,
, inclined to pick
\(^as it not he w
ment ? and what
encies and solicit
en as compared w
, had arisen betwi

, He would not c

ike," said he, ligh
ibout actual life,
she has high noli
je and do. It wa

jply interested,"
lope no harm is d
)-morrow before t

of fellow ; he w

what he says, it
den does really ni
d pull you throng
rorable, that is.
le buying of that '
, that."

lalfour was left al
lown the room, bi
he did not light,

ligin of this outbi
at placid, timid, 8(

temper. Where

the light of a sol
aside when he eutf
le could deal with
idly fashion : he w
• honey-moon,
kindly way, "It
t your foot in it

i those people so?'

she spoke cahnly,

"If that were convenient to you. I should
lot wish to be in the way if you were entertain-
ng your friends — I mean the friends who might
id of use to j'ou at Engleburv. I should be sor-
■y to interfere in any way with your chances of
jetting the seat, if you consider it right and hon-
)i'able that you should try."

He paused for a moment, and then he said,
ladly enough — "Very well."

CHAPTER XVn.

THE HOMB-COUINO.

Or course they did not quarrel. We Hto In
the nineteenth century. Tolerance of opinion
exists in the domestic circle as well as elsewhere ;
and no reasonable man would like his wife to be
that vague and colorless reproduction of her hus-
band which Lady Sylvia, all unknown to Balfour,
had striven to be. She ought to have her own
convictions; she ought to know how to govern
her own conduct ; nay, more, he would allow her
lO do as she pleased. There was but one condi-
tion attached. " You shall have your own way
in every thing," said the man in the story to hia
wile: "but you can't expect to have my way
too." Lady Sylvia was welcome to act as she
pleased ; but then he reserved the same liberty
for himself.

This decision he came to without any bitter-
ness of feeling. He was quite anxious to make
all possible excuses for her. Doubtless she pre-
ferred Surrey to Piccadilly. It is true, he had
looked forward to her being a valuable helpmeet
to him in his political life ; but it was perhaps
expecting too much of her that she should at
once interest herself in the commonplace inci-
dents of an election. He would be well content
if this beautiful, tender-eyed creature, whose ex-
cessive sensitiveness of conscience was, after all,
only the result of her ignorance of the world,
were to wait for him in that sylvan retreat, reac'v
to receive him and cheer him with the sweet so-
licitude of her loving ways. And in the mean
time he would try to make their companionship
as pleasant as possible ; he would try to make
this journey one to be remembered with pride
and gratitude. If there were one or two sub-
jects which they avoided in conversation, what of
that?

And as soon as Lady Sylvia heard that the
Chorleys and Mr. Bolitho had left Mainz, she be-
came more tender and affectionate than ever to-
ward her husband, and woidd do any thing to
meet his wishes. Learning that certain of his
political friends were at the moment at Lucerne,
she offered to go tliither at once, so that he
might have something to interest him apart from
the monotony of a wedding trip ; and although,
of course, he did not accept the offer, he recog-
nized her intention, and was grateful to her.
Was it not enough occupation for him to watch
the effect on this ingenuous mind of the new
wonders that she saw, as they went on to
Schaffhausen, and the Tyrol, and Verona, and
Venice ?

In their hotel at Venice, Balfour ran ngainst a
certain Captain Courtenay, with wlioni he had a
slight acquaintance. Tliey had a chat in the
evening in the smoking-room.

"Seen Major Blytiie lately?" said Balfour,
among other tilings.

" No," answered the other, somewhat coldly.

" You don't know, I suppose," asked Balfour,
quite unconcernedly, " how that business at the
C Club came off?"

The young man with the fair mustache eyed
him narrowly. It is not a safe thing to tell a
man evil things of his relatives, unless you know
how they stand with regard to each other.

" Yes, I do know— eh — an unfortunate bufli-
aess — very. Fact is, Blytbe wouldn't explain. I

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

suppose there was some delay about the posting
of that letter; and — and — I have no doubt that
he would have paid the money next day if he had
not been bullied about it. You see, a man docs
not like to be challenged in that way, supposing
he has made a triHing mistake — "

" Yes," said Balfour, nodding his head in ac-
quiescence ; " but how was it settled ?"

" Well," said the other, with some embarrass-
ment, "the fact is — well, the committee, don't
you know, had to enforce the rules — and he
wouldn't explain — and, in fact, he got a hint to
resign — "

" Which he took, of course."

" I believe so."

Balfour said nothing further ; but in his mind
he coupled a remark or two with the name of
Major the Honorable Stephen BIythe which that
gentleman would have been startled to hear.

Then he went up stairs to the sitting-room, and
found Lady Sylvia at the open casement, looking
out on the clear, blue-green, lambent twilight.

" Well, good wife," said lie, gayly, " are you be-
ginning to think of trudging home now? We
ought to see a little of The Lilacs before all the
leaves are gone. And there won't be much to
keep me in London now, I fancy; they are get-
ting more and more certain that the government
won't bring on the dissolution before the new
year."

She rose, and put a hand on each of his shoul-
ders, and looked up into his face with grateful
and loving eyes.

"That is so kind of you, Hugh. It will be so
pleasant for us to get to know what home really
is — after all these hotels. And you will be in
time for the pheasants: I know several people
will be so glaci to have you."

Of course the merest stranger would be de-
lighted to have so disliiiguished a person as Mr.
Balfour come and shoot his pheasants for him ;
failing that, would she not herself, like a loyal
and dutiful wife, go to her few acquaintances
down there and represent to them the great honor
the.v might have of entertaining her husband ?

"I see there is to be a demonstration on the
part of the ugrioultural laborers," said he, " down
in Souiersetsliire. I slioui'l like to ^fce that — I
should like to have a talk with so.iie of their
leaders. But I am afraid we could not get bnck
in time."

" My darling," she protested, seriously, " I can
start at five minutes' notice. We can go to-night,
if you wish."

" Oh no, it isn't worth while," said he, absently.
And then he continued : " I'm afraid your friends
the clei'gymen are making a mistake as regards
that question. I don't know who these leaders
are ; I should like to know more precisely their
character and aims ; but it will do no good to call
them agitators, and suggest that they should be
ducked in horse-ponds — "

" It is infamous !" said Lady Sylvia. She knew
nothing whatever about it. But she would have
believed her husband if he had told her that St.
Mark's was made of green cheese.

" I mean that it is unwise," said he, without
any enthusiasm. " Christ meant His church to be
the church of the poor. The rich man has a bad
time of it in the Gospels. And you may depend
on it that if you produce among the poorer classes
the feeling that the Ohuruh of Sngland is on the

side of the rich — is the natitral ally of the squireg;
landlords, and other employers — you are driving
them into the hands of the Dissenters, and hast-
ening on disestablishment."

" And serve them right too," said she, boldly,
" if they betray their trust. When the Church
ceases to be of the nation, let it cease to be the
national church."

This was a pretty speech. How many weeks
before was it that Lady Sylvia was vowing to up.
hold her beloved Church against all comers, but
more especially against a certain malignant icon-
oclast of the name of Mrs. Chorley ? And now
she was not only ready to assume that one or two
random and incautious speeches represented the
opinion of the whole of the clergymen of En-
gland, but she was also ready to have the con-
nection between Church and state severed in order
to punish those recusants,

" I am not sure," said Hal four, apparently tak-
ing no notieo of this sudden recantation, " that
something of that feeling has not been produced
already. The working-man of the towns jeers
at the parson ; the ngricidtural lalrarer distrusts
him, and will grow to hate hiiii if he takes the
landlord's side in this matter. Now why docj
not the Archbishop of Canterbury seize the occa-
sion ? Why does he not come forward and say
'HolO a bit, my fiicnds. Your claims may i)e
just, or they may be exorbitant — that is a matter
for careful in(|uiry — and you must let your land
lords be heard on the other side. But wliatevor
happens, don't run away with the notion that
the Church has no sympathy with yoti ; that the
Church is the ally of your landlord; that it it
the interest of your parson to keep you poor, ill
fed, ill lodged, and ignorant. On the contrary,
who knows so much about your circumstance!*!
Who more fitting to become ihe mediator be
tween you nrd your landlord V You miiy prefer
to have leaders tnun your own ranks to fight your
battles for you ; but don't imagine tliat the |)ars()n
looks on uneoneerncd, and, above all, don't c.<
peet to lind him in league witli your opponents.'
Some Uiisehief could be avoided that way, 1 think. "

"Hugh," said slu;, with a sudden burst of en
thusiasin, " I will go down to Soiuersctshire with
you."

" And get up on a chair an(l address a crowd,"
said he, with a smile. " I don't think they would
understand yoiu' sjiecch, many of them."

" Well," said she, " perhaps I shall be better
employed in making The Lilacs look very pretty
for your return. And I shall have those slippcii
made up for you by that time. And, oh, Hugh— I
wanted to ask you — don't you think we slioulJ
have those cane rocking-ehaiis taken away from
the smoking-room, now the colder evenings are
coming in, and morocco easy-chairs put iu tlicii
stead »"

" I am sure whatever you do will be right,'
said he.

" And papa will be back from Scotland then,'
said she. " And he writes me that my uncle an
his family are going down for a few days ; and i
will be so pleasant to have a little party to mee
us at the station — "

The expression of his face changed suddenly,

"Did you say your uncle?" said he, withi
cold stare.

" Yes," said she, with innocent cheerfulness
" it will be quite pleasant to have some friends t

welcome

And Ik

the Hull,

see the i

"Nod

via, if an

may ace

leave me

Shekx

ation in

firm.

"Wha

"Only

prefer nc

cle is the

"Why

"lam

enough f(

with who

tliaa that

mind; I

think it n

acquainta

drop."

"Do y(
becoming
not to see
out haviuj
"I wish
in quite a
will (ill y,
uncle's de
characteri:
puloub ace
"Iund(
or in her :
you, of all
for bis po
cle is pool
"Pardo
lack of m
to a sort
say— as w
let that p
As I unde
some awk
ing— at tt
that he hi
" Who
"Capta
"Theg
" Yes."
"Have
uncle ?"s
"I thin
have said
"And}
nation in
my relatii
story told
do I knon
he tell wl
his havin
Hugh, yot
" Now,
;'Youkn(
interfere i
action. I
and his f
ate with ;
I, for one
society."

y of the squirea^
you are driving
inters, and bast-

•aid she, boldly,
tien tlie Church
cease to be tho

ow many weeks
18 vowing to up-
; all comers, but
malignant icon-
ley? And now
tlint one or two
represented tlie
ergymcn of En-
a tmve the con
severed in order

, apparently tak
cnntation, " that
t been produced
the towns jeers
l«borer distrusts
if he takes the
Now why doc}
■y seize the ccca-
brward and sny
' claims may lie
-that is a matter
ist let your laud
!. But wliatever
tlie notion tiiut
til you ; that tlie
illui'd; that it it
icep you poor, ill
[)n the contrary,
' circumstances y
he mediator lie-
You may prefer
uik;* to tight your
ictliat the parson
we all, don't ex-
your opponents.'
liatway, Itiiink."
Idcn burst of en-
iiuersetsliirc with

iddress a crowd,"
tliink they woulJ
)f them."
1 shall be better
i look very pretty
ive tliose slippers
\nd, oh, Hugh— I
think we should
taken away from
ildcr evenings art
hairs put iu thcii

lo will be right,'

m Scotland then,'
that my uncle am
i few days ; and ii
ttle party to mee

Ranged suddenly.
'* said be, with

lent cheerfulness I
bve Boine f rieads t

GHEEX PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

welcome us, after our long stay among strangers.
And I know pupa will want us to go straight to
tho Hull, and dine there ; and it will be so nice to
see the dear old place — will it not?"

" No doubt," said he. And then he added, " Jvl-
via, if any iuvitatiou of that sort reaches you, vc't
may accept for yourself, if you wish, but please
leave me out of it."

She looked up and perceived the singular alter-
ation in his look ; he had become cold, reserved,
firm.

" What do you mean, Hugh ?" she cried.

"Only this," said he, speaking distinctly. "I
prefer not to dine at Willowby Hall if your un-
cle is there. I do not wish to meet him."

" Why?" she said, in amazement.

" I am not a tale-bearer," he answered. " It is
enough for me that he is not the sort of person
with whom I wish to sit down at table. More
tlian that — but I am only expressing an opinion,
mind ; I don't wish to control your conduct — I
think it might be better if you were to allow your
acquaintance with your uncle's family quietly to
drop."

" Do you mean," said she, with the pale face
becoming slightly flushed, " that I am to resolve
not to see those relatives of mine any more — with-
out having a word of reason for it ?"

" I wished to spare you needless pain," said he,
in quite a gentle way. " If you want to know, I
will < 3ll you. To begin with, I don't think your
uncle's dealings in regard to money matters are
characterized by that precision — that — that scru-
puloub accuracy — "

" I understand," she said, quickly, and the col-
or in her face deepened. " But I did not expect
you, of all men iu the world, to reproach any one
for his poverty. I did not expect that My un-
cle is poor, I know — "

" Pardon me, Sylvia, I never made your uncle's
lack of money « charge against him : I referred
to a sort of carelessness — forgetfulness, let us
flay — as regdrda other people's money. However,
let that pass. The next thing is more serious.
As I understand, your uncle bus been involved in
some awkward business — arising from whist-play-
ing — at the C Club ; and I hear this evening

that he has resigned in consequence."

"Who told you that?"

" Captain Courtenay."

" The gentleman who is staying in this hotel ?"

" Yes."

" Have you any thing else to say against my
uncle ?" she demanded.

" I think I have said enough ; I would rather
have said nothing at all."

" And you ask me," she said, with some indig-
nation in her voice, " to cut myself adrift from
my relatives because you have listened to some
story told by a stranger in a coffee-room. What
do I know about Captain Courtenay ? How can
he tell what explanation my uncle may have of
his having resigned that club? I must say,
Hugh, your request is a most extraordinary one."

"Now, now, Sylvia," he said, good-naturedly.
*' You know I made no request ; I do not wish to
interfere in the slightest way with your liberty of
action. It is true that I don't think your uncle
and his family are fit people for you to associ-
ate with ; but you must act as you think best.
I, for one, don't choose to be thrown into their
society."

Now Lady Sylvia never had any great affec-
tion for her aunt, and she was not likely to hold
her cousin Hunuria in dear remembrance; but,
after all, her relatives were her relatives, and she
became indignant that they should be spoken of
in this wuy.

" W hy did you make no objection before ?
Why did you go and dine at their house ?"

He laughed.

" It suited ray purpose to go," said he, " for I
expected to spend a pleasant evening with you."

" You saw nothing wrong in my visiting them
then."

" Then I had no right to offer you advice."

"And now that you have," said she, with a
proud and hurt manner, " what advice do I get ?
I am not to see my own relations. They are not
proper persons. But I suppose the Chorleys
are : is that the sort of society you wish me to
cultivate ? At all events," she added, bitterly,
" my relatives happen to have an A or two iu
tiieir possession."

'' Sylvia," said he, going over and patting her
on the shoulder, "you are offended — without
cause. You ran see as much of your uncle's
family as you please. I had no idea you were so
passionately attached to them."

That ended the affair for the moment; but
during the next few days, as they tiavulUd by
easy stages homeward, an ominous t^ileucu pre-
vailed as to their plans and movements subue-
quent to their reaching England. At Dover she
found a telegram awaiting her at the hotel ; with-
out a word she put it before her husband. It
was from Lord Willowby, asking his daughter by
what train she and her husband would arrive, so
that the carriage might be waiting for them.

" What shall I say ?" she asked at length.

" Well," said he, slowly, " if you are anxious to
see your relatives, and to spend some time with
them, telegraph that you will be by the train
that leaves Victoria at 6.15. I will take you
down to The Lilacs ; but I must leave you there.
It will suit me better to spend a few days in town
at present."

Her face grew very pale.

" I don't think," she said, " I need trouble you
to go down with me. I can get to Victoria by
myself. 6.15, 1 think you said ?"

Slie rang for a blank telegraph form.

" What are you going to do ?" said Balfour,
struck by something peculiar in her manner.

" I am going to telegraph 'o papa to meet me
at the station, as I shall be alone."

" You will do nothing of the kind," said he,
gently but firmly. " You may associate with what
people you please, and welcome ; only there must
be no public scandal as regards the relations be-
tween you and me. Either you will go on with
me to Piccadilly, and remain there, or I go down
with you to The Lilacs, and leave you to go over
to the Hall if you wish to do so."

She telegraphed to her father that they had
postponed their return to The Lilacs, and would
remain in town for the present. She bought a
shilling novel at the station, and silently and as-
.siduously cried behind it the greater part of the
journey up to town. Arrived in London, the
poor martyr suffered hersel to be dragged away
to that lonely house in Piccadilly. It was a sor-
rowful home-coming.

Then the cup of her sorrows was not jet full.

(JREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

With an iiiliumnn ornolty, her hu»bf.r,d (having
had \m own oniU Huivtul) Hoiight to niii'.'c li^ht
of thu wholu mutter, All tliiit cvenini^ he tried
to ti'UMu hur into a ittnllo of reconciliation , but
)ior wrongs luy too luuivily upon her. I'o had
even the brntnlity to ank her wht'tlier she could
invito the Chorli-yH to dinu with them on the fol-
lowing Friday ; und whether they had not better
f;et a new densdrt Horvico for thu occasion. He
did well, Hho thought, to mention the Chorlcys.
Thcac were the people ho coUHidered it fit thr;t
fihe Hhould meet: hor own relatives he ^ould
debar.

CHAPTER XVIII.

TIIR HOMTITDKH Ot KVRRET.

Parmauknt was not dlMsolvcd that autumn,
and there wiix no need that Englebury and its
twin electorH, Mr. and Mrs, Cliorle/, should inter-
fere with the liiippineHH of Mr. and Lady Sylvia
Halfour. lioth the yotnifx people, indeed, would
have scouted the notion that any fifteen dozen
of Charleys could have noHscsscd that power.
Surely it was pii:isil)le for tiiem to construct a suf-
liciently pleuHunt uuxlm vivmdi, even if they held
somewhiitilifferent vlewi4 about political matters.

Itiit lon^ before the crisis of a gcnenil election
occurred, Hu^'li Halfour had managed to thinic
out very seriously several questions regarding
the relations between hlniMulf and his young wife.
He was determined that he would bo largely gen-
erous and coniiiderato to her. Wlien he saw how
tenderly dcvottid to him she was, when he got to
know moro of those clear perceptions of duty
and obedience and unhesitating unselfishness that
governed her conduct, when he saw how that
swuutncss und atrangu sincerity of manner of
hers charmed every one who was introduced to
her, surely ho had every reason to be generously
considerato. It is true that ho had dreamed some
sentimental dream of u helpmeet who would be
constantly at his side in the rough work of the
world ; but was not that his own folly ? It was
a pretty notion, doubtless, but look at tho actual
facts. Was it d(>sirablo that this tenderly nur-
tured, sensitive girl should plunge into the ani-
mosities and anxieties of political life ? Her first
slight aciiuttintance, for example, with the ways
of a borough election had only shocked and
pained hor; nay, more, it had very nearly pro-
duced a quarrelbetwcen Idm and her. This kind
of risk was quite unnccossary. Ho laughed at
the notion of her being an enthusiast for or
against the nirmiiigham League. How c\ VI she
bs deeply interested in the removal of Sii. ws-
bury School, or in Lord Kimberley's relations
with the Pacific Railway, or in the expedition of
the Dutch against Acheen? Would he gain any
more knowledge of the working of the London
vestries, supposing ho dragged her dainty little
foot tlirough the hideous sluriis of the great city ?
At this moment ho was going off for a riding ex-
cursion, after the manner of Cobbett, through
Somersetshire. He wanted tj find out for him-
self — for this man was no great enthusiast in
politics, but had, on the other hand, a patient de-
sire to satisfy himself as to facts — what were the
actual conditions and aspirations of agricultural
life there, and ho wanted to find out, too, what
would be the chances of a scheme of sanitary re-

form for the rural districts. Now of what possi-
ble good could Lady Sylvia bo in inspecting pig-
geries y The thing was absurd. No, no. Her
place was in the roomy phaeton ho had broughi
down from town for Iter, behind the two beauti-
ful black horses which she drove with admirable
nerve and skill. She formed part of a pretty
picture as we used to see her in these moist and
blustering November days. Black clouds behind
the yellow elms ; the gusty south wind whirling
the ruddy leaves from tho branches; a wild glare
of light shining along the wet road until it gleam-
ed like a canal of brilliant silver; and in the
midst of this dazzling radiance the small figure
perched high on the phaeton, clad all in furs, a
scarlet featlier in her hat, and the sweetest of
smiles for known passers-by on the fresh yoimg
face. Was it any wonder that he left her to her
familiar Surrey lanes, and to the amusement of
ordering her small household of The Lilacs, and
to the snugncss of her father's library in the
evening, he going off by himself to that hum-
drum business of prying about Somersetshire
villiiges?

He was away for about ten days in Somerset-
shire. Then he wrote to her that he would re-
turn to London by way of Englebury ; and she
was not to expect him very soon, for he might be
detained in London by a lot of business. It would
not be worth her while to come up. His time
would be fully occupied ; and she was much bet-
ter down in Surrey, enjoying the fresh air and
exercise of tlie country.

He hud not the slightest doubt that she was
enjoying herself. Since her marriage she had
not at all lived the secluded life she had led at
the Hall. Many a night there were more car-
riages rolling along the dark and muddy lanes
toward The Lilac3 than had driven up to the Hall
in the previous month. Balfour was the most
hospitable of men, now that he had some one to
take direction of his dinner parties ; and as those
parties were necessarily and delightfully small,
there was nothing for it but to have plenty of
them. The neighbors were convinced there never
had been a more fortunate match. Happiness
shone on the face of the young hpuse-mistress as
she sat at the top of the table which had been
fiorally decorated with her own hands. Her hus-
band was quite openly proud of her ; he took not
the slightest pains to conceal the fact, as most
yoimg husbands laboriously and ineffectually do.
And then tho wonderful way in which he pro-
fessed to be interested about those local matters
which form — aias ! — the staple of talk at rural
dinner parties 1 You would have thought he had
no care for any thing bej'ond horses, dogs, and
pheasants. He was grieved to hear that the par-
son's wife would not countenance the next charity
concert; but he was quite sure that Lady Sylvia
would win her over. He hoped it was not true
that old Somebody or other was to be sold out of
Something farm, after having occupied it for forty
years; but feared it was too true that he had
taken to drink. And one night, when he heard
that a neighboring master of harriers had inti-
mated that he would cease to hunt if he were not
guaranteed a sum of £2000 a year, Balfour de-
clared that he would make up whatever deficit
the subscription might show. He became popu-
lar in our neighborhood. He never talked about
politics ; but gave good dinners instead.

Indeed, tl
nt i|iiito ra
illi his I

|llll).'llt, to

III! of hum
nilortby II
as u very i
rlilcli he dt
1)1111 culls !
IV ordinari
lis man, wi
I'S, could t
nil drawiiif
liii^ to SOI
oiinj; wife <
lier off'
e would be
lection, anc
1 tho close

10118 — WUH

) many fric
)litudes, so
At all eve
fc sufllicien
iiys been h
i;; or riding
lilt things '
lany friends
OL'l{ or two
nil but th
111 that hei
mid be desi
When La(
oiild return
lehiiry, and
le was sitti
lie Lilacs,
ftuiriooii, th
iirels and
oil) the ser
3311 re. She
tuu back.
She read
ss, and fol
. Then sh(
?e(ile-work,
ai'ing out a
rough the
e strangely
jandonmen
ilf on a coi
id bhrst int
•oud, hurt
as in vain
ay the part
le saw her
irther from
id hopes w
r personal
id the barri
ivious and
those bea
make thei
ady a wido
Then this
lier turn
rainst thosi
isband and
lip days, sh
resentme;
'<: that it t
ver's thoug

if what poRsi-
Hpcuting pig-
No, no. Her
liad broughl

two beauti-
ith p.dmirable
t of a pretty
>se moist and
clouds beliind
mad whirling
; a wild glare
until it gleam-
'; and in the
B small iigure

all in furs, a
ic sweetest of
5 fresh young
eft her to her
tmiiscment of
lie Lilacs, and
library in the
to that hum-
Somersetshire

i in Somerset-
, he would re-
lury; and she
ir he might be
ess. It would
up. Uia time
vas much bet-
fresh air and

; that she was
riage she had
ihe had led at
ere more car-

1 muddy lanes
up to the Hall
was the most
d some one to
; and as these
;htfully small,
lave plenty of
;ed there never
h. Happiness
use-mistress as
hich had been
ids. Her hus-
r ; he took not
! fact, as most
leffectually do.
which he pro-
e local matters
f talk at rural
.hought he had
rees, dogs, and
ir that the par-
he next charity
lat Lady Sylvia
it was not true
> be sold out of
pied it for forty
le that he had
when he heard
rriers had inti-
t if he were not
•ar, Balfour de-
rhatcver deficit
e became popu-
er talked about
Mtead.

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

Imlccd, there were ono or two of us who could
nt nuito reconcile Mr. HalfourV previous history
•iili his present eoiidiHit. You would have
i(Miu'l)t, to hear him speak, that iiis highest no-
II (if human happiness was shooting rulililts on
niltiwby Heath, although, as every one knew. Ir-
is a very indifferent shot. Then the fashion in
liii'h he drove round with his wife, paying after-
(1(111 calls ! (Jentlonien who pay aftt 'iioon calls
V (irilinarily more amiable than busy ; and how
lis man, with all his eager ambitions and activi-
ri, could dawdle away the afternoon in a few
nil drawing-rooms iu the country, was a strange
liii^ to some of us. Was he so proud of this
oiiiij; wife of his that he was never tired of show-
ig her off? Or was it — seeing that by-and-by
e would be away in the hurry and worry of an
cction, and perhaps locked up for six months
I the close atmosphere of the House of Coiu-
lons — was it that he wIsIumI Lady Sylvia to have
! many friends as possible down in these rural
ilitudcs, so as to lighten the time for her ?
At all events, she seemed to enjoy her married
fe sufficiently well. This neighborhood had al-
iiys been her home. She was within easy driv-
i; or riding distance of the Ilall, and could see
lilt things were going straight there. She had
any friends. When her husband left her for a
'ct?l{ or two to her own devicr-., ne had no doubt
; all but that her time would be fully occupied,
1(1 that her life was passing as pleasantly as
)iii(l be desired.
R When Lady Sylvia got that letter, saying he
oiild return fi'oin Somersetshire by way of En-
eliury, ond would remain a few days in London,
le was sitting at one of the French windows of
ho Lilacs, looking out on a dismal December
ftuinoon, the rain slowly drizzling down on the
iirels and the wet gravel-paths. She took it
oin the servant, and opened it with much com-
amve. She had been schooling herself for some
me back.

She read the letter through with great calm-
;s^, and folded it again, and put it in lier pock-
Then she thought she would go and get some
;o(lle-work, for it was a melancholy business this
aring out at the rain. But as .she rose to pass
irough the room, the sensitive lips began to trem-
c strangely ; and suddenly, with a passionate
)andonmcnt of despair and grief, she tlirewiier-
ilf on a couch, and hid her face in the cushion,
id bhrst into a long and bitter fit of crying The
poud, hurt soul could no longer contain itself. It
as in vain that she had been training herself to
ay the part which he had seemingly allotted her.
le saw her husband being removed further and
irther from her ; his interests and occupations
d hopes were becoming more and more a mat-
r personal to himself ; their lives were divided,
id the barrier was daily growing more hopelessly
ivious and impassable. Was this, then, the end
those beautiful dreams of what marriage was
make their future life together? Was she al-
iady a widow, and forsaken?
Then this wild fit of despair and grief took an-
lior turn, and her heart grew hot with anger
rainst those things tiiat had come between her
isband and herself. Once or twice, in her court-
lip days, she had entertained a passing feeling
' resentment against the House of Commons,
ir that it took away from her so luncli of her
ver'g thoughts ; but now a more vehement jeal-

ousy possessed her, and she regarded the wholo
business of public life as a conspiracy against do-
niestic happiness. The Chorleys ? Xo, not tho
Chorleys. These people were tooconti'inptible to
come between her hii: 'landand herself, lint they
were a part, and an ugly representative part, of
that vulgarizing, distracting, hateful political life,
which was nevertheless capable of drawing a man
away from his wife and home, and hlling hi»
mind with gross cares and mean ambitions. The
poor, sp(iile(j, hurt child felt in her burning heart
that the British Constitution had cruelly wronged
her. She regarded with a bitter anger and jcal.
ousy the whole scheme of representative govern-
ment. Was it not those electioneeiing people,
and the stupid laborers of Somersetshire, and the
wretched newspapers that were writing about
dozens of subjects they did not understand, who
had robbed her of her husband ?

A servant tapped at the door. She jumped up,
and stood there calm and dignified, her back to
the window, so that her face was scarcely visible
in the shadow. Tho man only wanted to put
some coals on the fire. After he was gone. Lady
Sylvia dried her eyes, sat down once more at the
window, and began to consider, her lips a trifle
more firinly put together than usual.

After all, there was a good deal of womanly
judgment and decision about this girl, in spite of
all the fanciful notions and excess of sensitive-
ness that had sprung from her solitary musings.
Was it seemly that she should fret like a child
over her own unhappiness ? Her first duty was
her duty as a wife. If her husband believed it
to be better that he should fight his pubUc life
alone, she would do her best in the sphere to
which she had been relegated, and make his home
as pleasant for him lus she could. Crying, because
her husband went off by himself to Englebury ?
She grew ashamed of herself. She began to ac-
cuse herself with some indignation. She waa
ready to say to herself that she was not tit to be
any body's wife,

Full of a new and eager virtue, she hastily rang
the bell. The man did not fall down in a tit when
she said she wanted the phaeton sent round as
soon as possible, but he gently reminded her
ladyship that it was raining, and perhaps the
brougham — But no; her ladyship would have
the phleton, and at once. Then she went up
stairs to get dressed, and her maid produced all
soits of water-proofs.

Why so much haste ? Why the eager delight
of her face ? As she drove luiskly along the wet
lanes, the rain -drops were running down her
cheeks, but she looked as happy and comfortable
as if it had been a breezy day in June. The
horses splashed the mud about ; the wheels swish-
ed through the pools. In the noise, how could
the man behind her hear bis young inistiess gay-
ly humming to herself,

"Should he upbraid,
I'll own that he'll prevail?"

He thought she had gone mad, to go out on a
day like this, and no doubt i:ki ie some remarks
to himself when he had to jump down into the
mud to open a certain iron gate.

Now there was in this neighborhood a lady who
had for many a day been on more or less friendly
terms with Ln.dy Sylvia, but who seemed to become
even more intimate with her after her marriage.
The fact is, Mr. Balfour appeared to take a great

GREEN' PASTL'RES AND PICCADILLY.

liking to this penion, and wa* continually having
his wifo and her brougiit together. Thone who
know iicr wcli are fainiiiKr with her tricka of
manner anil thinking — Iter woiHliip of ilixliopx,
her Hcorn of liti«biUi(J8 in general, and her de-
meanor of awful dignity, which has gained for
her tlio Rtyle and title of Our Moat Hovureign Ludy
Kivefoot-three ; but tiiere is no denying the fact
that there ix about her eyes a certain patiietic,
aflTeutodly innocent look that has un odd power
over those who do nut know her well, and that
invites those people to an instant friendliness and
confidence. Well, this was the person whom Lady
Bylvia now wished to see ; and after she had taken
off her wet water-proofs in the hall, and dried
her face, she went straight into the drawing-
room, and In a minute or two wan joined by hur
friend.

" My dear Lady Sylvia," cried her Most Gra-
cious Majesty, kissing the young thing with ma-
ternal fondness, " what could have brought you
out on such a day — and in the phaeton, too?"

(jady Sylvia's cheeks were ([uite rosy after tlie
rain. Her eyea were bright and glad. She said,
blithely,

" I came out for the fun uf it. And to beg you
to give mc a cup of tea. And to have a long chat
with you."

Surely these were sufficient reasons. At least
they satisfied the elder woman, who rang for the
tea, and got it, and then assumed a '<<e and con-
fidential air, in order to hear the -jssions of
this gushing young creature. I < formed

some awful project of going up ^ ..aon on a
shoppinc; excursion in the absence of her hus-
band y or had the incorrigible Blake been grum-
bling as usual, and threatening to leave ?

Nothing of the kind. It was the elder woman
who was to be lectured and admonisbed^n the
duty of wives, on the right of husbands to great
consideration, and so forth, and so forth. Of
course the lecture was introduced by a few play-
ful and preliminary bits of gossip, so as to re-
move from the mind of the listener the notion that
it had been premeditated ; nevertheless, Lady Syl-
via seemed to be very earnest on this matter.
After all, said she, it was the lot of women to suf-
fer. Those who seemed to be most fortunately
placed in the world had doubtless their secret
cares ; there was nothing for it but to bea'r them
with a brave heart. A wife could not lessen the
anxieties of her husband by sharing them ; she
would more probably increase them by her wom-
anly fear and exaggeration. It was not to be ex-
pected that a woman should be constantly inter-
meddling in affairs of which she could not possibly
be a fair judge. A great many wives thought
they were neglected, when it was only their ex-
cessive vanity that was wounded : that was foolish
on the part of those wives. U.s.w. Lady Sylvia
talked bravely and gladly. She was preaching
a new gospel ; she had the eagerness of a con-
vert.

Her listener, who, notwithstanding that sham
dignity of hers, has a great deal of womanly tact
and tenderness, merely listened, and smilingly
agreed. But when Lady Sylvia, after refusing
repeated entreaties that she should stay to din-
ner, drove away in the dusk and the rain to her
solitary home, it was observed that her friend was
unuaually thoughtful. She scarcely said any thing
at all during dinner ; although once, after an in-

terval of profound silence, the startled ua all hf

asking, abruptly,

'■ Why does not Mr. Ralfour Uke Lady 8ylTit
up to his bouse in Piccadilly t"

CHAPTER XIX.

TIIU OANDIOATI.

On that same afternoon Mr. Hugh Balfour wu
also out driving — in u dofraiit t— and his compan-
ion was Mr. Bolitho, whom liu had picked up at
an out-of-the-way station, and was conducting to
Englebury. It was a dismal drive. There wiu
not the rain here that there was in Surrey, but Id
its place there was a raw, damp, gray mist timt
hung about the woods and fields, and dripped
from the withered briers in the hedges, and c(jv.
ered the thick top-coats of the two men with i
fur of wet. Neither cigar nor pipe would keep
alight in this cold drizzle. Balfour's left hand,
the fingers cloned on the spongy reins, was ttiur-
oughly benumbed. Even the bland and cheerful
Billy Bolitho had no mure jokes left.

"I suppose," said Balfour at last, amid thi
clatter of the cob's hoofs on the muddy road — " I
suppose we might as well go up and see the Chor-
leys this evening ?"

" I would rather say the morning," answered
Mr. Bolitho, looking mournfully out from between
the points of his coat collar at the black stump
of his cigar. " Chorley is one of those uncom-
fortable people who dine atwut five and havi
proyers at nine."

It was wrong of Mr. Bolitho to make this ran-
dom charge against the Englebury solicitor, for
he knew absolutely nothing about the matter.
He was, however, thoroughly uncomfortable. Hi
was cold, damp, and hungry. Ho had visions of
the " Oreen Man" at Englebury, of an ample din
ner, a warm room, and a bottle of port- wine.
Was he going to adventure out again into thii
wretched night, after he had got thoroughly tlr;
and comfortable, all because of a young man wlm
seemed to pay no heed to the requirements of di
gestion V

It was quite dark when they at last drove over
the bridge and up into the main thoroughfare of
Englebury, and right cheerful looked the blazing
shops of the small town. They passed under tbi
sign of the " Green Man" into the spacious arch'
way; the great be'l summoned the hostler from
out of the gloom ; they jumped down and stamped
their feet ; and then they found themselves face
to face with a very comely damsel, tall and sIuD'
der and dark of face, who, in the absence of her
sister, the landlady, wanted to know if the gentle-
men would order dinner before going up stairs to
their rooms. As she made the suggestion, slii
glanced up at a goodly row of joints and fowls
that were suspended from the roof of the central
hall, outside the capacious, shining, and smiling
bar.

" You order the dinner, Bolitho," said Balfour.
" I'm going to see that the cob is looked to."

" Confound the cob !" said the other ; but Bal-
four had already disappeared in the darkness. S«
he turned with great contentment to the distin-
guished-looking and gracious young person, and
entered into a serious consultation with her. Mr,
Bolitho was not in the habit of letting either

UR££N I'ASTUHEH AND PICCADILLY.

lUrtlad ut tU b;
tak« Ltd; SyWii

ri.

[uKh Balfour wu
-and hilt compan-
md picked up at
iiri uoiiduoting to
live. There wm
in Surrey, but in
p, gray iiiiat that
Idi), and dripped
hedgt'8, and cov.
two men witli t
pipe would keep
Ifoiir'fl left hand,
y reini>, was tliur
and and cheerful
I left.
It Ia8t, amid tb«
muddy road — " 1
and see the Chor

rning," answered

out from between

the black stump

of those uncum-

tt five and bavi

lo make this ran-
)ur7 solicitor, for
t)out the matter,
comfortable. lii
Ele had Tisions o(
of an ample din-
tic of port-wine
t again into thii
>t thoroughly drj
& young man wlio
quircments of di-

It last drove over
t thoroughfare ol
toked the blazing
passed under tbi
ie spacious arch-
the hostler from
own and stamped
I themselves fac«
lel, tall and slun-
le absence of her
low if the gentle-
;oing up stairs t«
! suggestion, slit
joints and fowls
>of of the central
ung, and smiling

0," said Balfour.
s looked to."
) other ; but Bal-
;he darkness. So
mt to the distin-
ung person, and
m with her. Mr.
of letting either

cobs or country aolicitors stand in the way of his

liiniior.

And a very sound and substantial dinner it
wttH that tiiey had in the snug little room uri the
tirst Hour, after they had got on some dry cloth-
ing and WiM'e growing warm again. TIiitu was a
brink (ire blazing in tlie grate ; there were no few-
er than four candles in the room, two on the tabic
and two on the mahogany sideboard, tialfuur
luuglied at the busineits-liko manner in which Mr.
Uulillio ploughed his way through the homely
feast ; but he was sharply hungry hinittelf, unil
he so far departed from his ordinary habits as to
call for a tankard of foaming stout. The agree-
able young lady lierxeif waited on them, although
she did not know as yet that one of the strangers
winhed to represent her native town in Parlia-
ment. She seemed a little surprised, however,
when, at the end of dinner, the younger gentle-
man asked whether she could send him up a clay
pipe, his own wooden one havuig gone wrong,
l^lie had overheard the two friends talking about
very grout persons indeed as tliougli they were
pretty familiar with them, and a fourpeiiny cigar
from the bar would, she considered, liuve been
mure appropriate. But the utlier gentleman re-
deemed himself in her eyes by ordering a bottle
of the very best port-wine they had in the bouse.

"Gracious goodness!" cried Balfour, with a
loud laugh, " vv'iut do you mean, Uolithoy"

"I mean t» make myself comfortable," said
the other, doggedly.

"Oh, it is comfortable you call it," remarked
the younger man. " Well, it is a good phrase."

" Yes, I mean to make myself comfortable,"
said Mr. Boiitho, when he had drawn in his chair
to the tire, and lit a cigar, and put a glass of port
on the mantel piece, "and I also mean to give
you some p.Jvice — some good and excellent ad-
vice— wliich is all the more appropriate since you
may b« said to be begiiming to-day your canvass
of the borough of Engiebury. Well, I have had
to do with a good many candidates in my time ;
but I will say this for you, that you are just about
the last man in the world I would choose to run
for a seat if I had any choice."

"That is cheerful, at any rate," said Balfour,
who had lit his long clay, and was contentedly
stretching out his legs to the tire. "Uo on."

" I say it deliberately. If you get in at all, it
won't be through any action on your own part. I
would almost ratlier tight the election for you in
your absence. Why, man, you have no more no-
tion of conciliating any body than an arctic bear
has. Don't you know you are asking a great fa-
vor when you ask people to return you to Parlia-
ment? You don't suppose you can clieek every
constituency as you cheeked those poor wretches
at Ballinascroon y"

"My dear philosopher and friend," said the
culprit, " I am not aware of having ever address-
ed a word to any elector of Engiebury, barring
your Mr. Chorley."

" I don't me.in here or now," said Boiitho, who
thought he would read this young man a sound
lesson when he was about it. "I mean always
and every where. A man can not get on in pol-
itics who blurts out his opinions as you do yuur.s.
You can't convince a man by calling him a fool.
You have been spoiled. You got your first seat
too easily, and you found yourself independent of
the people who elected you. If you bad had to

conciliate your constituency as some men have, it
would have been UHcinl practice for you. I tell
you a member of Parlianicnl lan nut atfurd Ui li«
continually declaring liis npinionN, as if he had all
the wisdom in the world — "

Here the culprit, far fioni being meek and at-
tentive, burst out Ijiiigliing,

"The fact is, Uolitho, all this harangue moans
that you want me to be civil to Churley. Doesn't
it, now T"

Mr. Uolitho, being in a pleasant humor, sufTcrod
a shrewd, bland smile to appear about the cor-
ners of his mouth.

" Well," said Bal >ur, frankly, " I mean to be
enormously civil to t'd Chorley — so long as ha
doesn't show uu with , 'juie humbug. But mind
you, if that old thief, who wants to sell the
borough in order to ge^ a good price for hit
tilched Cummon, begins to do the high virtuous
business, then the ease becomes altered. Civil f
Oh yes, I shall be civil imioukIi- But you don't
expect me to black his ii(H>tH y''

" You see," said Mr. liuiitlio, slowly, "you are
in rather an awkward position with regard to
tliese two people — 1 wiii tell you that honestly.
You have had no communication with them since
you first saw them in Germany f

" No, none."

" Well, you know, my gay young friend, you
pretty nearly put your foot in it by your chatHiig
old Chorley about selling the piece of green. Then
no sooner had they got over that tlian Lady Syl-
via — You know what I mean."

Balfour looked a bit annoyed.

" Leave Lady Sylvia out oi' it," said he. " .Slio
does not want to interfere in tlieso things at ail."

"No," said Mr. Boiitho, cautiously; "but you
see there is the effect of that — that remark of lu-rs
to be removed. The Chorleys may have forjjoL-
ten ; they will make allowances — "

"They can do as they like about that," s;.i 1
Balfour, bluntly ; "but Lady Sylvia won't umuii.j
them again. Now as to tlie bit of couii,iii.< 'i"

" Well, if I were you, I would say uolh. <i!- about
it at present."

" I don't mean to, nor in the future either."

" You don't intend to make him an oHer y"

" Of course not."

Mr. Bulitlio looked at the young man. Had ho
been merely joking whi-u he scorned to entertain
seriously the project of bribing Mr. Chorley by
purcliasing his land from him ? Or Iiad suiuu
new and alien infiuence thwarted his original
purpose ? Mr. Boiitho instantly thoujjlit of Laiiy
Sylvia.

" Perhaps you are right," said he, after a sec-
ond or two. ' Chorley would be sliy of taking
an offer, aftor ym Imd directly described the
thing as bribing the town. But all the nmro
you sliould be conciliatory to him and his wife.
Why L..ould they tight for youV**

"'l don't 'know."

" What have you to offer them?"

" Nothing."

" Then you are asking a great favor, as I said
before."

" Well, you know, Boiitho, Engiebury has its
duty to perform. Y'ou shouldn't make it all a
matter of private and personal interchange of in-
terests. Engiebury has its place in tlie empire ;
it bHS the proud privilege of singling out a faith-
ful and efficient person to represent it in Parlia-

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

inent ; it has its relations with the British Con-
stitution ; and when it finds that it has the
opportunity of returning so distinguished a per-
801 as myself, why shouldn't it jump at the
chance? You Iiave no faith in public virtue,
Bolitho. You would buy land, and bribe. Now
that is wrong."

" it's all very well for you to joke about it,"
said Mr. Bolitho, rather gloomily, " but you'll sing
a different tune if you find yourself without a
seat after the next general election."

On the following morning they walked up
through the town which Mr. Balfour aspired to
represent, toward Mr. Chorley's house. It was a
bright morning after the rain ; the sun shining
pleasantly on the quaint old town, with its hud-
dled red-and-white houses, its gray church, its
high-arched bridge that spanned a turbidly yel-
low river. Mr. Chorley's house stood neui' the
top of the hill — a plain, square, red brick build-
ing, surrounded by plenty of laurels and other
evergreens, and these again inclosed by a high
brick wall. They were ushered into a small
drawing-room, stuffed full of ornaments and smell-
ing of musk. In a few moments Mr. and Mrs.
Chorley entered together.

Surely notliing cou'd be more friendly than
the way in which they greeted the young man.
The small, horsy-looking solicitor was prim and
precise in his manner, it is true ; but then he was
always so. As for Mrs. Chorley, she regarded
the young man with a pleasant look from over
her silver spectacles, and begged him and Mr.
Bulitho to be seated, and hopei^ they had had an
agreeable drive on that bright morning. And
when Mr. Bolitho explained tliat they had arrived
on the previous evening, and had put up at the
" Green Man," she was good enough to express
her regret that they had not come right on and
accepted the hospitality of herself and her hus-
band for the night.

"But perhaps," said she, suddenly, ahd with
an equally sudden change in her manner — " per-
haps Lady Sylvia is with youV"

" Oh dear no !" said Balfour, and he instantly
changed tlie subject by beginning to talk about
his experiences dowu in Somersetshire, and how
he had heard by acejilent that Mr. Bolitho was in
the neighborhood of Englebury, and how he had
managed to pick him up. That alarming look of
formality disappeared from Mrs. Chorley's face.
Mr. Ciiorley suggested some sherry, which was
politely declined. Then they had a talk about
the weather.

But Balfour was not a timid roan, and be dis-
liked beating about the bush.

" Well, Mr. Chorley," said he. '' how are your
local politics? Government vc.y unpopular? Or
rather I should ask — as interesting me more near-
ly — is old Harmien still unpopular ?"

" Mr. 'Arnden is not very popular at present,"
said Mr. Chorley, with some caution. " He does
his duty well in Parliament, no doubt ; but, after
all, there are — certain courtesies which — which
are due to one's constituents — "

" Exactly," said Balfour. " I have discovered
that in the case of the place I represent. The
courtesiee that pass between me and the people
of Ballinascroon are almost too beautiful. Well,
what about the chance of a vacancy at the next
general election ?"

In reply to this blunt question, Mr. Chorley re-

garded the young man with his shrewd, watchful,,
snmll blue eyes, and said, slowly,

" I don't know. Sir, that Mr. 'Arnden has any
intention at present of resigning his seat."

This guardedness was all thrown away on Bal-
four.

" What would be my chances," said he, curtly,
" if I came down and contested the seat ?"

Here Mrs. Chorley broke in. From the moment
they had begun to speak of the next election, the
expression of her face had changed. The thin
lips were d %wn more firmly together. Instead
of the beaming maternal glance over her specta-
cles, there was a proud and cold look, that was at
once awful and ominous.

" If I may be allowed to speak, Mr. Balfour,"
said she, in lofty accents, " I would say that it is
rather strange that you should mention any such
proposal to us. When we last spoke of it, you
will remember that some remarks were applied
to us by Lr.dy Sylvia, which were never apologized
for — by her, at least. Have you any explanation
to make ?"

There was a sudden flash of fire in the deep-set
gray eyes. Apologize for his wife to such people
as these ?

"Explanation?" said he; and the tone in
which he spoke caused the heart of Mr. Bolitho
to sink within him " If Lady Sylvia spoke hast-
ily, that only convinced me the more of the folly
of allowing women to interfere in politics. I
think the business of an election is a matter to
be settled between men."

There was a second or two of awful silence. A
thunder-bolt seemed to have fallen. Mrs. Chorley
ro.se.

" I, at least," sai J she, in majestic accents, and
with an indescribable calm, " will not interfere
in this election. Gen i'.omen, good-morning. Eu-
genius, the chaise is at tii? d"c:."-

With that she walked in a stately manner out
of the room, leaving the burden of the situation
on her unfortunate husband. He looked rather
bewildered ; but nevertheless he felt bound to as-
sert the dignity of the family.

"I mu.st say, Mr. Balfour," said he, -ather
nervously, "that your language is — is unusual.
Mrs. Chorley only asked for — for an expressioa
of regret — an apology which was only our due
after the remarks of — of Lady Sylvjp"

By this time Balfour had got on his feet, and
taken his hat in his hand. AH the Celtic blood
in his veii.s was on fire.

"An apology!" he said. "Why, man, you
must be mad! I tell you thut every word my
wife said was absolutely true ; do you expect her
to send you a humble letter, begging for your for-
giveness ? I apologized for her nastiness at the
time ; I am sorry I did. For what she said then,
I say now — that it is quite monstrous you should
suddenly propose to use your influence in the bor-
ough on behalf of a mrvn who was an absolute
stranger to you ; and if you imagined that I was
going to bribe you by buying that waste land, or
goin" to bribe the borough by giving them a pub-
lic gi-een, then get that notion out of your head
as soon as possible. Good-morning, Mr. Chorley.
Pray tell Mrs. Chorley that I am very sorry if I
have h>irt her feelings; but pray tell her too
that my wife is not conscious of having said any
thing that demands an apology."

And so this mad young man and his companion

Eiit out, and
)j;lel)iiry in t
in vain tin
teou-3 prayei
? He w(
ittoniless pit
K)lo{;ize for a
le election ?
ere ten thous
" I tell you I
iJ the despt
mediately g
is wife will ^
ink of contei
lorley combii
Nature had
iigh Balfour
"I tell youi
13 neither to
mething had
u in turn thr
me ; and, wl
eau to win it

AI
" BOLTTIIO,"

mpanions wi
in train, " wl
in ft to her t
' annoyed to
'Cteil with ai:
c bettor out
Now Mr. Be
liding princi
sy-2oin'j; gen
here, or at lei
aroely have :
iind in whic
igluly, some
'cn involved
i|)et\i()U3 ten
it!) the rulin<
"I don't th
tliiit I am lili
"What do 3
t out to wall
"Oh, well, y
iientary agcr
ee, " I have
ct nie if I an
e as a rathe
n, who is 11
ibery and co
re from her
nsidered me
econspiracv
"Yes, I thi
ugli, " and I
e author of
IS all a joke
Iking about i
"inp;mird is
that soit, a
have said m
fiiet," he at
«h my wife 1
? squabble."
''Quite righ

«rd, watchful^

iden has any
I seat."
awayon Bal-

lid he, curtly,
seat y"

1 the tnornent
b election, the
d. The thin
ler. Instead
T her specta-
:, that was at

ttr. Balfour,"
say that it is
ion any such
ke of it, you
were applied
er apologized
f explanation

I the deep-set
> such people

the tone in
f Mr. Bolitho
i spoke hast-
B of the folly
t politics. I
I a matter to

111 silence. A
Mrs. Chorley

accents, and
not interfere
orning. £u-

' manner out
the situati(/n
ooked rather
bound to xs-

i he, -ather

—is unusual.

n expression

^nly our due

his feet, and

Celtic blood

y, man, yon
sry word my
lu expect her
: for your for-
itiness at the
he said then,
IS you should
ce in the bor-
an absolute
id that I was
raste land, or
: them a pub-
of your head
Mr. Chorley.
iry sorry if I
tell her too
ring said any

is companion

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

Eiit out, and walked down the main street of
));lel)iiry in the pleasant sunshine. And it was
in vain thnt Mr. Bolitho tried to put in his
teou-3 prayeis and remonstrances. The bor-
ii-h ? He would ;;cc the borougli sink into the
ittoniless pit before he would allow his wife to
lologize for a speech that did her infinite honor !
le election ? He would fight the place if there
ere ten thousand Chorleys arrayed against him !
" I tell you you have gone stark staring mad,"
iJ the despairing Mr. Bolitho. " Chorley will
mediately go over to Harnden — you will see.
is wife will goad him to it. And how can you
ink of contesting the seat against Harnden and
lorley combined ?"

Nature had not conferred a firm jaw on Mr.
iigh Balfour for nothing.
"I tell you in turn," said the young man, who
13 neither to hold nor to bind, simply because
mething had been said about his wife — " I tell
11 in turn that I mean to contest the seat all the
mc; and, what is more, by the Lord Harry, I
ean to win it 1"

CHAPTER XX.

AT A CERTAIN CLUB.

" Bolitho," said Mr. Hugh Balfour, as the two
mpanions were preparing to leave for the Lon-
in train, " when you see my wife, don't say any
inft to her about this affair. She would only
annoyed to think that she was in any way con-
'Cteil with such a wretched wrangle. Women
c bettor out of these things."
Now Mr. Bolitho was somewhat vexed. The
liding principle in life of this bland, elderly,
sy-ioinc; gentleman was to make friends every
here, or at least acquaintances, so that you coiild
aroely have mentioned to him ti borough in En-
iinil in which he did i '>t know, more or less
iglitly, some man of intiuence. And here he had
)cn involved in a quarrel — all because of the
ipptiiDUS temper of this foolish young man —
itii the ruling politician of Englebury !
"I don't think," said he, with :. wry smile,
tliiit I am likely to see Lady Sylvia."
" What do you mean ■"' Balfour asked, as they
t out to walk to the station.
"Oh, well, you know," replied the astute Parli-
nenlary agent, with tliis sorry laugh still on his
ee, " I have a strong suspicion — you will cor-
ct nie if I am wrong — that Lady Sylvia looks on
e as a rather dangerous and disreputable per-
n, who is likely to lead you into bad ways —
ibery and corruption, and all that, i am quite
re from her manner to me at Mainz that she
nsidered me to be the author of an abomina-
c conspiracy to betray the people of Englebury."
"Yes, I think she did," Balfour said, with a
ugli, " and I think she was right. You were
e author of it, no doubt, Bolitho. But then it
i-s all a joke ; we were all in it, to the extent of
lidng about it. What I wish to impress on your
iiinf!; mird is that women don't understand jokes
that soit, and — and it would have been wiser
have said nothing about it before Lady Sylvia.
fiit't," he added, with more fiiinness, " I don't
»h my wife to be mixed up ic any electioneer-
? squabble."
'' Quite right, quite right," responded Mr. Boli-

tho, with grave suavity ; but he knew very well
why Mr. Hugh Balfour had never asked him to
dine at The Lilacs.

" Now," said Balfour, when they had reached
the station and got their tickets, " we shall be in
London between six and seven. What do you
say to dining with me * I shall be a bachelor
for a few evenings, before going down to the coun-
try."

Mr. Bolitho was nothing loath. A club dinner
would be grateful after his recent experience of
rural inns.

" At the Oxford and Cambridge, or the Reform ?
Which shall it be ?" asked the young man, care-
lessly.

But Mr Lolitho regarded it as a serious mat-
ter. He was intimately acquainted with the cook-
ing at both houses — in fact, with the cooking at
pretty nearly every club in the parish of St
James's. After some delay, he chose the Reform ;
and he was greatly relieved when he saw his com-
panion go off to telegraph to the steward of the
club to put down his guest's name in the books.
That showed forethought. He rather dreaded Mr.
Balfour's well-known inditference about such mat-
ters. But if he was telegraphing to the steward,
surely there was nothing to fear.

Aiid when at length they reached London, and
had driven straight on to the club, the poor man
had amply earned his dinner. He had been
cross-examined about this person and that per-
son, had been driven into declaring his opinion
on this question and that, had been alternately
laughed at and lectured, until he thought the rail-
way journey was never going to end. And now
as they sat down at the small white table Mr.
Balfou'- was in a more serious mood, and was
talking about the agricultural laborer. A paper
had just been read at the Farmers' Club which
would doubtless be very valuable as giving the
employers'' side of the question; did Mr. Bolitho
know where a fr.li report of that address could
begot?

Mr. Bolitho was mutely staring at the framed
bill of fare that the waiter had brought to the
table. Was it possible, then, that Balfour had
ordered no dinner at all ? Was he merely going
to ask — in flagrant violation of the rules of the
club — for some hap-hazard thing to take the place
of a properly prepared dinner ?

"Will you have some soup? Do you ever
take soup?" asked his host, absently; and bia
heart sank within him.

" Yes, I will take some soup," said he, gloom-

il.V-

They had the soup. Mr. Balfour was again
plunged in the question of agricultural labor. He
did not notice that the waiter was calmly standing
over them. '

"Oh," said he, suddenly recalling himself —
" fish ? Do you ever take fish, Bolitho ?"

" Well, yes, I will take some fish," said Mr. Boli-
tho, somewhat petulantly : at this rate of waiting
they would finish their dinner about two in the
morning.

" Bring some fish, waiter — any fish — salmon,"
said he, at a venture ; for he was searching in a
handful of papers for a letter he wished to show
his guest. When he was informed that there
was no salmon, ho asked for any fish that was
ready, or any joint that was ready ; and then he
succeeded in &iding the letter.

GKEEX PASTURES

They had Bome fish too. He was talking now
about the recently formed association of the em>
ployera of labor. He absently poured out a glass
of water and drank some of it. Mr. Bolitho's
temper was rising.

" My dear fellow," Balfour said, suddenly ob-
serving that his guest's plate was empty, "I
beg your pardon. You'll have some joint now,
won't you? They always have capital joints
here; and it saves so much time to be able to
come in at a moment's notice and have a cut. I
generally make that my dinner. Waiter, bring
some beef, or mutton, or whatever there is. And
you were saying, Bolitho, that this association
might turn out a big thing?"

Mr. Bolitho was now in a pretty thorough-going
rage. He had not bad a drop of any thing to
drink. In fact, he would nut drink any thing
now — not even water. He would sooner parch
with thirst. But if ever, he vowed to himself —
if ever again he was so far left to himself as to
accept an invitation to dine with this thick-head-
ed and gloweringeyed Scotchman, then he would
allow them to put strychnine in every dish.

If Mr. Bolitho had not got angry over the
wretched dinner he was asked to eat, he would
frankly have reminded his host that he want-
ed something to driuk. But his temper once be-
ing up, he had grown exceedingly bitter about
the absence of wine. He had become proud.
He longed for a glass of the water before him,
but be would not take it. He would wait for
the satisfaction of seeing his enemy overcome
with shame when his monstrous neglect was re-
vealed to him.

Temper, however, is a bad substitute for wine
when a man is thii-siy. Moreover, to all appear-
ance, this crass idiot was likely to finish his din-
ner and go away without any suspicion ttiat he
had grievously broken the laws of common de-
cency and hospitality. He took a little sip of
water now and again as innocently as a dipping
swallow. And at length Mr. Bolitho could bear
it no longer. Thirst and rage combined were
choking him.

" Don't you think, Balfour," said he, with an
outward calm that revealed nothing of the wild
volcano within — " don't you think one might have
a glass of wine of some sort?"

Balfour, with a stare of surprise, glanced
round the table. There certainly was no wine
there.

" My dear fellow," said he, with the most ob-
vious and heart-felt compunction, " I really beg
your pardon. What wine do you drink ? Will
you have a glass of sher;y?"

Bolitho was on the point of returning to his
determination of drinking nothing at all; but the
consuming thirst within was too strong for him.
He was about to accept this offer sulkily, when
the member for Ballinascroon seemed to recollect
that he was entertaining a guest.

" Oh no," he said, anxiously ; " of course you
will have some Champagne. Waiter, bring the
wine list. Tiiere you are, Bolitho ; pick out what
you want, like a good fellow. It was really very
forgetful of me."

By this time they had got to the celery and
cheese. Mr. Bolitho had scarcely had any din-
ner ; his thirst had prevented his eating, and his
anger had driven him into a most earnest and
polite attention to his companion's conversation.

AND PICCADILLY.

ntea somet

ButwhentheChampagnearriTed,andhehaddn inions wen<

the first glass at a draught, nature revived wit Now when

him. The strained and glassy look left his e; luse in Pic

his natural bland expression began to app* inecessary

He attacked the cheese and celery with vi{ td telegrap

The wine was sound and dry, and Mr. Boli ways left

had some good leeway to make up. He b^ m, as he in

to look on Balfour as not so bad a sort of fell iring his si

after all ; it was only his tremendous earnestn

that made him forgetful of the smaller tliii

around him

aa Jackson
"Hallo, Ji
" Yes, Sir.

ou, Sir, up 8
He went u
ID letter,
hat formal
nd dutiful,
le he might

" And so," said he, with a dawning smile bra go to get th
ing over his face, " you mean to go, unaided t
alone, and fight the whole paction of your e
mies in Englebur}' — the Chorleys, old Harnc
Reginald Key, and the bunting parson — all
gether?"

" Well," said Mr. Balfour, cheerfully, " I sha'

try it if I can see an easier chance elsewhere. B > dine with

I am not afraid. Don't you see how I should i le servants

peal to the native dignity of the electors to r e should no

and assert itself against the political slavery tl he could (

has been imposed on the borough ? Bolitho, { ad got old

glcbury shall be free. Eiiglebury shall suffer le house,

longer the dictation of an interested solicitor." ortant busi

"That's all very well," said Mr. Bolitho; "b is visit to J

Chorley owns half the Englebiiry Mercury." nt short hii

" I will start the Eiwltbury Banner." us amusin;

" And suppose Haruden should resign in hi n So-and-so

of Key ¥" cut her two

" My dear friend, I have heard on very go f rabbits,

authority that there is not the least chance 'lump on

Key being in England at tiiat time. The govci toard schoo

meut are sure to tiy the effect of some other n icfik — and i

larious place. I have heard several consulslii He put tl

and island governorships suggested ; but you i welling on

quite right — lie is a hard man to kill ; and 1 1 n<l t)aiik int

lieve their only hesitation so far has been owii " Poor old

to the fact that there was no sufficiently dcu( aiifrlit up tl

place open. But they will be even with him sen ' tliiiJ is her

er or later. Then as for your hunting parson ii'isolf tip ir

I could make friends with him in ton minutes. And indec

never saw a hunting parson ; but I have a siiva lunsc in wl

ing liking for him. I can imagine him — a loi ery empty

cheeked fellow, broad-shouldered, good-humon »ay from 1

a famous judge of horseflesh and of port-wii noiu than n

generous iu his way, but exacting a stern d vovr proud

cipline in exchange for his blankets and juii o him that

at Christmas. He shall be my ally — nut i icxtcanvasi

enemy." ip theo ies

"Ah," said Mr. Bolitho, with a sentimeni litive mind

sigh, " it is a great pity you could not persua [iH" traffic ol

Lady Sylvia to go down with you. When a a 'eeall some

didato has a wife — young, pretty, pleasant-ma )aclielor da

nered — ^it is wonderful what help she can gi he House, i

him." :hii>u at Ex(

" Yes, I dare say," said Balfour, with a slig leii"g with

change in his manner. " But it is not Lady S) mramer ev€

via's wish — and it certainly isn't mine — that si l>y Park. I

should meddle in any election. There are soi Mger comp
women fitted for that kind of thijig (doubtle»ciests and
excellent women in their way), but she is not o(;>ving whic
of them, and I don't particularly care that si
should be."

Mr. Bolitho felt that he had made a mistal
and he resolved in future not to mention Li
Sylvia at all. This wild adoration on the part
the young man might pass away ; it might en
pass away before the general election came on,
which case Balfour might not be averse from haj
ing her pretty face and serious eyes win him ovi
a few friends. In the mean time Mr. BolitI

e jumped

own the n

He woul(

nd vain r(

|was, Was

lomething

"he herself

had

lUDconunon

red, and he had d
ature revived wit

lendous earnestn
the smaller tiiii

iug parson — ^all
licerfully, " I sha'

mgh?

bury shall suffer

.'rested solicitor."

I Mr. Bolitho;

ury Meretir^."

Banner."

>uld resign in fai

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLT.

Died something about a cigar, and the two com-
inions went up stairs.

Now when Balfour drove up that night to his
y look left his e Ause in Piccadilly, he was surprised to see an
n began to apjx inecessary number of rooms dimly lighted. He
I celery with vi{ id telegraphed to the housekeeper, whom they
ry, and Mr. fioli ways left there, to have a bedroom ready for
ake up. He bej m, as he intended to have his meals at his club
>ad a sort of felli iring his short stay in town. When he rang, it
aa Jaukson wiio opened the door.
" Hallo, Jackson," said he, " are you here ?"
" Yes, Sir. Her ladyship sent us up two days
awning smile bre&o to get the house ready. There is a letter for
111, Sir, up stairs."

He went up stairs to his small study, and got
rleys, old HnrndAc letter. It was a pretty little message, some-
hat formal in style, to be sure, but affectionate
nd dutiful. Lady Sylvia had considered it proba-
le he might wish to have some gentlemen friends
nee elsewhere. I > dine with him while in town, and she had sent
ee how I should) le servants up to have every thing ready, so that
the electors to r e should not have to depend entirely on his club,
olitical slavery tl he could get on very well with Anne, and she
Bolitiiu, 1 ad got old Blake over from the Hall to sleep in
36 house. She added that as he might have im-
ortant business to transact in connection with
is visit to Englcbury, he was on no account to
lit short his stay in London prematurely. She
■as amusing herself very well. She had called
n So-aiul-so and So-and-so. Her papa had just
out her two brace of pheasants and any number
leard on very go f rabbits. The harriers had met at Willowby
he least chance 'lump on the previous Siiturdny. The School
time. The govci loard school was to be finished on the following

of some other
several consul.shi
lested ; but you
1 to kill ; and I
far has been o\v

sven with him sw
r hunting parson
I in ten minutes,
but I have a aim
agine him — a I'oi
red, good-humon

eek — and so forth
He put the letter on the table, his eyes still
welling on it thoughtfully; and he lit his pipe,
ml sank into a big easy-chair.

Poor old Syllabus," he was thinking — for he

sufficiently dea( a'.i<:lit up this nickname from Johnny BIythc

'tills is her notion of duty, that she should shut

ii'isolf lip in an empty house !"
Anil indeed, as he lay and pondered there, the

louse in which he was at this moment seemed

ei'v empty too ; and his wile, he felt, was far

way from him, separated from him by something
and of port-wii nore than miles. It was all very well for him to
ictiiig a stern d ;row proud and reserved when it was suggested

him that Lady Sylvia should help him in his
my ally — not i lext canvass ; it was all very well for him to build

ip tlieo ies to the effect that her pure, noble, sen-
ifith a sentimeni litive mind were better kept aloof from the vul-
:ould not pei'sua ;ar traHie of politics. But even now he began to
foa. When a a 'ccall some of the dreams he had dreamed in his
etty, pleasant-ina >aeliclor days — in his solitary walks home from
help she can gi he House, in his friendly confidences with his old

ihuiu at Exeter, and most of all when he was wan-
four, with a slig icring with Lady Sylvia herself on those still
it is not Lady Si luromer evenings under the great elms of Willow-
n't mine — that a )y Park. He had looked forward to a close and
. There are eoi sugcr companionship, an absolute identity of in-
f thipg (doubtle tcrests and feelings, a mutual and constant help-
but she is not oi giving which had never been realised. Suddenly
arly care that si ic jumped to his feet, and began to walk up and

down the room.
1 made a mistali He would not give himself up to idle dreams
; to mention Lai nnd vain regrets. It was doubtless better as it
tion on the part ^tia. Was he a child, to long for sympathy when
ay ; it might en Bomething unpleasant had to be gone through f
cction came on, She herself had shown him how her quick, proud
e averse from haH-. 'i* ^ had revolted from a proposal that was no
eyes win him orf unconuuon thing in public life ; better that the
time Mr. BolitI

should preserve this purity of oonscience tBan that
she should be able to aid hun by dabbling in doubt-
ful schemes. The rough work of the world was
not for that gentle and beautiful bride of his ; but
rather the sweet content and quiet of country
ways. He began to fret about the engagements of
the next few days to which he had pledged him-
self. He would rather have gone down at once to
The Lilacs, to forget the babble and turmoil and
v«xations of politics in the tender society of that
most loving of all friends and companions. How-
ever, that was impossible. Instead, he sat down
and wrote her an affectionate and merry letter, in
which he said not one word of what had happen-
ed at Englebury, beyond recording the fact of hia
having been there. Why should he annoy her by
letting her suppose thr.t she had been mixed up
in a squabble with such a person as Eugeuius
Chorley?

CHAPTER XXL

HIS RETURN.

It was with a buoyant sense of work well done
that Balfour, on a certain Saturday morning, got
into a Hansom and left Piccadilly for Victoria Sta-
tion. He had telegraphed to Lady Sylvia to drive
over from The Lilacs to meet him, and he pro-
posed tiiat now he and she should have a glad
holiday-time. Would she run down to Brighton
for the week preceding Christmas V Would she
go over to Paris for the New- Year? Or would
she prefer to spend both Christmas and New-
Year among the evergreens of her English home,
with visits to neighboring friends, and much ex-
citement about the decoration of the church, and
a pleased satisfaction in giving away port-wine
and fiannels to the properly pious poor ? Any-
how, he would share in her holiday. He would
ride with her, drive with her, walk with her ; he
would shoot LoT-d Willowby's rabbits, and liavrj
luncheon at the HtxW ; in the evening, in the warm,
hushed room, she would play for him while he
smoked, or they wouhl have confidential chatting
over the appearance and circumstances and dis-
positions of their friends. What had this tender
and beautiful child to do with politics? She her-
self had shown him what was her true sphere ; he
would not have that shy and sensitive conscience,
that proud, pure spirit, hardened by rude associa-
tions. It is true, Balfour had a goodly bundle of
papers, reports, and blue-books in his bag. But
that was merely for form's sake — a precaution,
perhaps, against his having to spend a solitary
half hour after she had gone to bed at nights.
There could be no harm, for example, in his put-
ting into shape, for future use, the notes he had
made down in Somersetshire, just as occasion of-
fered. But he would not seek the occasion.

And all things combined to make this reunion
with his wife a happy one. It was a pleasant
omen that, whereas he had left London in a cold
gray fog, no sooner had he got away from the
great town than he found the country shining in
clear sunlight. Snow had fallen overnight; but
while the snow in Buckingham Palace Road was
trampled into brown mud, here it lay with a soft
white lustre on the silent fields and the hedges
and the woods. Surely it was only a bridal robe
that Nature wore on this beautiful morning — a
half-transparent robe of pearly white that caught

«2

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

here and there a pale tint of blue from the clear
ekica overhead. Uc had a whole bundle of week-
ly newspapers, illustrated and otherwise, in the
carriage with him, but he never thought of read-
ing. And thou<;li the wind w,\» cold, he let it
blow ii-eely through the open windows. This was
better than hunting through the rookeries of
London.

He caught sight of her just as the train was
Blowing into the station. She was seated high in
the phaeton that stood in the roadway, and she
was eagerly looking out for him. Her face was
flushed a rose-red with the brisk driving through
the keen winu ; the sunlight touched the firmly
braided masses of her hair and the delicate oval
of her cheek ; and as he went out of the station-
house into the road, the beautiful, tender, gray-
blue eyes were lit up by such a smile of gladness
as ought to have been sulHcicnt welcome to him.

"Well, old Syllabus," said he, "how have you
been V dying your eyes out V"

" Oh no, not at all," shvj said, seriously. " I
have been very busy. You will see what I have
been doing. And what did you mean by sending
the servants down again V"

" I did not want to have you starve, while I had
the club to fall back on. Where the — "

But at this moment the groom appeared with
the packages he had been sent for. Balfour got
up beside his wife, and she was about to drive off,
when they were accosted by a gentlemanly-look-
ing man who had come out of the station.

" I beg your pardon — Mr. Balfour, I believe?"

" That is my name."

" I beg your pardon, I am sure ; but I have an
appointment with Lord Willowby — and — and I
can't get a fly here — "

" Oh, I'll drive you over," said Balfour, for he
happened to be in an excellent humor: had he
not been, he would probably have told the stranger
where to get a fly at the village. The stranger
got in behind. Perhaps Lady Sylvia wuuld, in
other circumstances, have entered into conversa-
tion with a gentleman who was a friend of her
father's; but there was a primness about his
whiskers and a certain something about his dress
and manner that spoke of the City, and of course
she could not tell whether his visit was one of
courtesy or of commerce. She continued to talk
to her husband so that neither of the two people
behind could overhear.

And Balfour had not the slightest conscious-
ness of caution or restraint in talking to this
bright and beautiful young wife of his. It seem-
ed to him quite natural now that he should cease
to bother this loving and sensitive companion of
his about his anxieties and commonplace labors.
He chatted to her about their favorite horses and
dogs ; he heard what pheasants had been shot in
Uphill Wood the day before ; he was told what
invitations to dinner awaited his assent ; and all
the while they were cheerfully whirling through
the keen, exhilarating air, crossing the broad bars
of sunlight on the glittering road, and startling
the blackbirds in the hedges, that shook down
the powdery snow as they darted into the dense
holly-trees.

" You have not told me," said Lady Sylvia, in
a Bomewhat measured tone, though he did not
notice that, "whether your visit to Englebury
was successful."

" Oh," said he, carelessly, " that was of no im-

portance. Nothing was to be done then. Iti
be time enough to think of Englebury when i
general election comes near."

Instead of Englebury, he began to talk to I
about Brighton. He thought they might di
down there for a week before Christmas,
began to tell her of all the people whom he kn
who happened to be at Brishton at the mome
It would be a pleasant variety for her ; she woi
meet some charming people.

" No, thank you, Hugh," she said, somcwl
coldly ; " I don't think I will go down to Briglii
at present. But I think you ought to go."

"I?" said he, with a stare of amazement,

" Yes ; these people might be of use to yt
If a general election is coming on, you can i
tell what influence they might be able to <;:
you."

" My dear child," said he, fairly astonished lli
she should speak in this hard tone about ctiti
quite innocent people in Brighton, " I don't h
to see those people because tliey might be of i
to me. I wanted you to go down to Briglii
merely to please you."

" Thank you, I don't think I can go down
Brighton."

"Why?"

"Because I can not leave papa at preseu
she said.

"What's the matter with him?" said Balfoi
getting from mystery to mystery.

" I can not tell you now," she said, in a
voice. " But I don't wish to leave The Lilacs
long as he is at the Hall ; and he has been gui
very little up to London of late."

" Very well ; all right," said Balfour, cheerf
ly. " If you prefer The Lilacs to Brighton, so
I. I thought it might be a change for you — tl
was all."

But why should she seem annoyed because
had proposed to take her down to Brigliioi
And why should she speak despitef ully of a nu
ber of friends v,'ho would have given her a ni(
hearty welcome ? Surely all these people coi
not be in league with the British House of Co
mons to rob her of her husband.

In any case, Balfour took no heed of tli(
passing fancies of hers. He had registered
mental vow to the effect that, whenever he coi
not quite understand her, or whenever her wist
clashed with his, he would show an unfailing oi
sideration and kindness toward this tender s(
who had placed her whole lilt^iu his hands, i
that consideration was about to be put to i
test of a sharp strain. With some hesitation ;
informed him, as they drove up to the Hall, tl
her uncle and aunt were staying there for a d
or two. Very well ; there was no oi)joctiou
that. If he had to shake hands with Major t
Honorable Stephen BIytlic, was tiu're not i-o
and water at The Lilacs ? But Liidy Sylvia pi
ceeded to say, with still greater dillidence, tl
probably they would be down again in about t
days. They had been in the habit of spcmii
Christmas at tlia Hall ; and Johnny and Honoi
had come too ; so that it was a sort of aniii
family party. Very well; he had no object!
to that either. It was no concern of his wlu
Major Blythe ate his Christmas dinner. I)
when Lady Sylvia went on to explain, with
m'easing hesitation, that herself and her husba
would be expected to be of this Christmas ga

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

done then. It
iiglebury when i

>gan to talk to I
; they might d
re Christmas,
pie whom he km
on at the mome
for her ; she woi

fie said, somcw
J down to Briglii
)ught to go."
>f amazement
be of use to vi
ig on, you can
It be able to <::

irly astonished tli
tone about cciti
iton, " I don't wa
ley might be of t
down to Bright

I can go down

papa at present

lira ?" said Balfot

Jry.

siie said, in a

leave The Lilacs

1 he has been gui

1 Balfour, cheert

! to Brigliton, so

ange for you — tl

nnoyed because
own to Brigluui
spitefully of a nu
e given her a nit
these people cot
:i8h House of Co
nd.

no heed of tin
had registered
whenever he cot
henever her wisl
w an unfailing a
rd this tender s(
in his hands.
, to be put to I
some hesitation .>
ip to the Hall, tl
iiig there for a i
as no oiijcction
uds with Major t
as thf're not t^o
ut Liuly riylviu p
Iter (iillidcnce, tl
again iu about t
habit of speniii
ohnny and Hono
8 a sort of anni
3 had no object!
ncern of his wli
tmas dinner. 1
to explain, with
;lf and her husba

«ring, Ur. Balfour mentally made use of a phrase
which was highly iniproper. She did not hear it,
of course. They drove up to the Hall in silence ;
and when they got into the house, Balfour shook
hands with Major Blythe with all apparent good
nature.

Lord Willowby had wished the stranger to fol-
low him into the library. In a few moments he
returned to the drawing-room. He was obviously
greatly disturbed.

" You must excuse me, Sylvia ; I can not pos-
sibly go over with you to lunch. I have some
business which will detain me half an hour at
least — perhaps more. But your uncle and aunt
can go with you."

That was the first Balfour had heard of Major
Blythe and his wife having been invited to lunch
at his house ; but had he not sworn to be grand-
ly considerate? He said nothing. Lady Sylvia
tinned to her two relatives. Now had Lord Wil-
lowby been going over to The Lilacs, his brother
inii^ht have ventured to accompany him ; but Ma-
jor Blythe scarcely liked the notion of thrusting
Lis head into that lion's den all by himself.

" My dear," said the doughty warrior to his
wife, " I think we will leave the young folks to
thuniselvcM for to-day — if they will kindly excuse
iirt. You know I promised to walk over and see
that mare at the farm."

Balfour said nothing at all. He was quite con-
tent when he got into the phaeton, his wife once
more taking the reins. He bade good-by to Wil-
lowby Hall without any pathetic tremor in his
voice.

"Hugh," said Lady Sylvia, somewhat timidly,
"1 think you are prejudiced against my uncle;
I am very sorry — "

"1 don't look on your uncle," said Balfour,
with much coolness, "as being at all necessary to
my existence, and I am sure I am not necessary
to his. We each of us can get on pretty well
witiiout the other."

"But it is dreadful to have members of one
family iu — in a position of antagonism or dislike
to each other," she ventured to say, with her heart
heating a trifle more pidly.

" Well, yes," he said, cheerfully. " I suppose
Major Blythe and I are members of the same
family, as we are all descended from Adam. If
that is what you mean, I admit the relationship ;
but not otherwise. Come, Sylvia, let's talk about
something else. Have you seen the Von Rosens
lately'-"

For an instant she hesitated, eager, disappoint-
ed, and wistful ; but she pulled her courage to-
gether, and answered with seeming good-will.

"Oh yes," she said. "Mr. Von Rosen called
yesteru.iy. And the strangest thing has happen-
ed. Aw uncle of his wife has just died in some
distant place in America, and has left a large
amount of property to Mrs. Von Rosen, on condi-
tion she goes out there some time next year, una
remains for a year at the house that has bejn
left her. And she is not to take her child .en
with her. Mrs. Von Rosen declares she won''- go.
She won't leave her children for a whole year.
They want her to go and live in some desert place
just below the Rocky Mountains."

" A desert !" he cried. " Why, don't you know
that the neighborhood of the Rocky Mountains
has been my ideal harbor of refuge whenever I

tiis Christmas ga thought of the two worst chaucea that can befall

one y If I were suddenly made a pauper, I should
go out there and get a homestead free from the
government, and try my hand at building up my
own fortunes. Or if I were suddenly to break
down in health, I should make immediately for
the high plains of Colorado, where the :iir is like
Champagne ; and I would become a stock-raiser
and a mighty hunter in spite of all the bronchitis
or consumption that could attack one. Why, I
know a lot of fellows out there now ; they live
the rudest life all day long — riding about the
plains to look after their herds, making hunting
excursions up into the mountains, and so forth ;
and in the evening they put on dress-coats to din-
ner, and have music, and try to make themselves
believe they are in Piccadilly or Pall Mall. Who
told her it was a desert V"

" I suppose it would be a desert to her without
her children," said Lady Sylvia, simplj'.

"Then we will go over after luncli and reason
with that mad creature," said he. " The notion
of throwing away a fortune because she won't go
out and live in that spler<iid climate for a single
year !"

What the result of this mission of theirs w«>s,
need not be stated nt present. Enou!;h tlmt Bal-
four and his wife, having spent the host part of the
afternoon with these neigliboring f I'icnds of theirs,
went home to dine by tiiemsclves in the evening.
And Balfour had been looking forward during
this past fortnight to the delight of having his
wife all to himself again; and he had pictured
the still little room, her seated at the piano, jicr-
haps, or perhaps both seated nt the tire, and ail
troubles and annoyances hunted out into the cold
winter night. This was the now plan. When
he looked at her — at the true, sweet, serious,
trusting eyes, and at the calm, pensive, guileless
forehead — he began to wonder how he could ever,
in his selfish imaginations, have thought of hav-
ing her become a sort of appanage of himself in
his public life. Would he wish her to become a
shifting and dextrous wire-j). "er, paying court
to this man, flattering anotiicr, patronizing a
third, all to further her husband's interests ?
That, at all events, was not what he wished her
to be now. He admired her for her couiageous
protest against that suggested scheme for the
bribing of Englebury. Not for a hundred seats
in Parliament would he have his wife make in-
terested professions of friendship for such people
as the Chorleys. The proper place for the high-
souled young matron was the head of her own
table, or a seat by the fire in her own drawing-
room ; and it was there that he hoped to gain
rest, and swoct encouragement, and a happy I'or-
getfulness of all the vulgar strife of the outside
world.

" Sylvia," he said, suddenly, at dinner, " why
do you look so depressed ? What is the matter
« :th you V"

" Oh, nothing," she said, rot-.sing herself, and
making an effort — not very succes.^fid — to talk
about this American trip. Then she relapsed into
silence again, and the dinner was not a cheerful
feast.

" Are you tiie*! ?" he asked again. " Perhaps
you had better go and lie down for a while."

No, she was not tired. Nor did she go, as was
her wont after dinner, into the next room and bo-
gin to play a few of the airs and pieces that lie
Uked. She eat down by the firs opposite hiniL

GREEN PASTURES AND PIGCADILLT.

Her face ww troubled, and her eyes distant and

' Come, Sylvia," he said, as he lit his pipe,
"you are vexed about something. What is it?
What is the trouble ?"

" I am not vexed, really. It is no matter,"
she again answered.

Well, as his motto was " Live and let live," he
was not bound to goad her into confidences she
was unwilling to make ; and as the enforced si-
lence of the room was a rather painful and lugu-
brious business, he thought he might as well have
a look at one or two of the papers he had brought
down. He went and fetched his uiig. He sat
down with his back to the light, and was soon
deep in soiue report as to the water supply of
London.

Happening to look up, however, he found that
his wife was silently crying. Then he impa-
tiently threw the book on the table, and demand-
ed to know the caus"* Perhaps there was some
roughness in his voice ; but, at all events, she sud-
denly flung herself down before him, and buried
her face on his knees, and burst into a fit of wild
sobbing, in which she made her stammering con-
cession. It was all about her father. She could
not bear to see him suffering this terrible anxie-
ty. It was killing him. She was sure the man
who had come down in the train had something
to dc with these pecuniary troubles, and it was
dreaJful to her to think that she and her bus-
bar d had all they could destine, while her father
was driven to despair. All this and more she
sobbed out like a penitent child.

Bulfour put his hand gently on her soft brown
hair.

" Is that all, Sylvia ?" he said. " If it is only
money your father wants, he can have that. I
will ask him."

She rose — her eyes still streaming with tears
— and kisaprt him twice. And then she grew
gayer in spirit, and went and played some music
for him while he smoked his pipe. But as he
smoked he thought, and his thoughts were rather
bitter about a man who, wanting money, had not
the courage to osk for it, but had degraded his
daughter into the position of being a beggar for
it. And as Mr. Balfour was a business-like per-
son, though he had not been trained up to com-
merce, he determined to ascertain exactly how
Lord Willowby'a affairs stood before proffering
him this promised help.

CHAPTER XXII.

FRIENOS AND NEIGHBORS.

Therk was a brisk fire in the breakfast-room
at The Lilacs, and the frosty December sunlight,
streaming through the window, touched the white
table-cloth with a ruddy and cheerful glow. A
man of about thirty, tall, stalwart-looking, with a
huge brown mustache and a partially cropped
beard, light blue eyes, and a healthy complexion,
stood on the hearth-rug with his hands compla-
cently fixed in his pocket. This was Count— or
rather, as he had dropped his courtesy title since
settling down in England, Mr. — Von Rosen, who
had served as lieutenant in the Franco-German
war, ar.d had subsequently fr)'<%n in love with
and married a young English la»/, who had per-

is licttcr sti
Bult'our will
Lady Syl
iLpart from
[>f hers, she
a the anius
ifu. She St
)e very ugre
tud then slu
iij; that lett
"What d<
"Oil yes,'
lome reverii
{usen. It \
f, liowever,
;o, ihouf^h II
iri', us 1 liavi
hittfiilig to
iiU(.'h wurk i
ant iJiuusun
II, I .siipi

(lllL-iC'l to L

lis case t'oi'
wo men at i.
I) lii.s wil'i', '
I) run ilow n

■uaded bim to make England his home. He wai
a young man of superfluous energy, of great good |^" ^^^ ^
humor and good spirits, who made himself i
nuisance to the neighborhood in which he lived
by the fashion in which he insisted on other peo.
pie joining him in his industrious idleness. For
example, he had on this very morning, at seven
o'clock, sent a letter to Mr. Hugh Balfour, of
whose arrival at The Lilacs he had only heard on
the previous night, urging him to join a certain
shooting party. Lady Sylvia was to drive over
with them, and spend the day with two ladies
whom she knew. He himself would call at nine,
And so he stood here with his hands in his pock-
et, apparently quite contented, but nevertheless
wondering why English people should be so late
with their breakfast.

"Ah," said he, with his face brightening, as
Balfour entered the room. " You are ready to
go f But I have to beg your pardon very much,
My man says you were not awake when he
brought the letter ; it was stupid of him to send
it to your room."

"On the contrary," said Balfour, as he me
chanically took up a handful of letters that were
lying on the table, " I have to beg your pardon
for keeping you waiting. I thought I would put
on my shooting boots before coming down. Lady
Sy via will be here presently. Come, what do you ""^ "" ^ ' I"
say to having some breakfast with us?"

He was scanning the outside of the various en'
velopes with something of an absent air. There
was nothing meditative about the German ex
lieutenant. He had once or twice allowed his
highly practical gaze to fall on a certain game
pie.

" A second breakfast ?" said he. " Yes, per-
hap.\ it is better. My first breakfast was at sii.
And m tiiese short days it is foolishness to waste
time at the luncheon. Oh yes, I will have some
breakfast. And in the mean time why do you
not read your letters V

" Well, the fact is," said Balfour, " my wife
thinks I should have a clear holiday down here,
and I have been wondering whether it is an;
use—"

But quite mechanio:iiiy, while he was speaking,
he had opened one of the letters, and he paused
in his speech as he read its contents.

" By Jove," said he, partly to him i\i and part-
ly to his companion, " they must be pretty certain
that I shall be in the next Parliament, or the;
would not offer to put this in my hands. Per-
haps they don't know that I am sure to be kick-
ed out of Ballinascroon."

At this moment Lady Sylvia entered the room,
and that young lady wenc up to the German lieu-
tenant in the most winning and gracious way — for
he was a great friend of hers — and thanked him
very prettily for the trouble he had taken about
this invitation.

" Trouble V" he said, with a laugh. " No, no.
It is a good drive over to Mr. Lefevre's, and I
shall have nice company. And you will And him
such a fine fellow — such a good, fine fellow — if
you will meet him some night at our house. Lad;
Sylvia ; and your husband will see, when we be-
gin the shooting, that there is no selfishnees in
him at all — he will pre'er that his friends have
more sho<>ting than himself, and his keepers the;
know that too —and my wife she says if you will
be so good as to stay with her all the day, we

All till' _
lii'v had silt
k'lurc auswi

lilCilll,'!' liu \
;■ OlIlLT lililt

iiiiit'wlnit |i:
" i tiiiiik i
no .siiuii^ei'
ivsuiit time
"Why sin
".'^i; near
me |irou(l
liai'v' niii;k
1 ii time to
"On, well,
I iliil nut n
le fi^'ht ;
li:i hill wo
imovor, I
I iJiice. V
r. Ijclevre
otfei' y I
lei' i;\- your:
It was by I
< notice his
' |i:iiu and
:• iliii not (J
Jfc that fe
uii ill a see(
" Hy-tiie-w
I London tc
«ill telegrii
iih; and to
tie arrange
)t linished i
" I do not
ate idler.
ou liave (in
And so the
!(i to go ovt
d I'cmain u
the dog-ca
ed. When
a bonny c

will come back that way in the aftcrnoun — and it
is liettcr still, a great deal ':uttcr, if you and Mr.
Balfour will stay to dine witli us."

Lady Sylvia, was very pleased and grateful.
Apart from her personal liking fur these friends
ai Iters, she was glad to find her hui<band taking

the aniuscnaents and interests of this country

GREEN PASTURES
home. He wai
gr, of great good
nade liiniself i
t which he lived
ed on other peo-
8 idlent:d8. For
oming, at seven

ugh Balfour, of „ ^„ . , , . ,, ,r ,. , • . .

id only heard on '^'-'- '''"' ^'*"^ ""^' '"''• """ Rosen s plan would
to ioin a certain "^ ^""^y agreeable to her if it suited her liusbanu ;
Kuii then she turned to him. He was still regard-
tlia*, letter.

' Wiiat do you saj', Hugh V" she asked.
'Oil yes," he answered, as if startled out of
ionic reverie. "That is very kind of vou, Von
[{o^en. It would be a delightful day. The faet
, iiowever, I aiu not quite sure that I ought to
(I), though nothing would give nie g.eater pluas-
rc, U.S I have just got an olfer here that is rather
altuiiug to a yoinig iiieiuber who has not done
juili work in the House. It is lather an inij)or-
aiit measure they propose to [tut into my hands.
iV( II, 1 suppo.se 1 shall only Ije f^ort of jii.iior

(iiiiiSL'l to Lord ; but at least 1 could got up

lis case for liim. Well, now, 1 must see these
wo men at once. Sylvia," he continued, tui'ning
Ills wifi', " if I ask these two fiicnds of mine
nm down here to-morrow to dinner, I suppose
(III null 1 put tliem ui) lor the night;-'"

the glad iiglit had gone from her face.
iny had sat oowa at the tabic by this (iiiic; and
i.'luic answering liiiu, she asUea .Mr. Voii liosen
iutlier he would not help himself to soniclhiMg
iiiier that was near him. Tiien she said, in a
)iiii'rtiial p'.ecise fashion,

i tiilnk it wiiiild looli rather singular to ask
ivo siiangers down iicre for a single night at the
resent ti'ne.''

" VVhy singular V" said lie, with a staie.
''Si; near Ciiristnias.'' she conlimu'd, in the
nie proud and cold wi; •, "people are supposed
1 h.i> \' nia;ie up 1 lieir fa aily parties. It is scaree-
a lime to Invite sua" ;ers."
" Oii, well," said he, w ith a good-natured laugh,
1 dill not mei.n to of.' Mid you. I dare say you
e right; an evening devoted to talking about
is l)di would not have been lively for you.
owever, I must see my two patrv)ns, and that
: once. Von Ho.sen, would you mind saying to
r. I.efevre how much I thank him for his friend-
utfcr y I fear 1 must let you liave your drive
icr i!\- yourself."

It was by the merest accident tliat he happened
notice his wife's face. When he saw the look
pain and disappointment that passed over it,
did not (piite know what he had done to pro-
ne that feeling, but he altered his determina-
uii ill a second.

" By-the-way," said he, " I might as well go up
Lon(k)n to-morrow. Yes, that wH' be better,
will telegraph to them to dine wi' ne at tlie
111), and to-day I can give up to yo. .r first-rate
tie arrangement. Come, Von Rosen, you have
t liiiished already V"

" I do not wish to waste time," said that invet-
ate idler. "The daylight is very short now,
ou have finished too ?"

.\iid so they set out. Lady Sylvia having proni-

wl to go over to Mrs. Von Rosen during the day,

id remain until the evening. As they drove off

the dog-cart, Balfour seemed rather preoccu-

led. When he remarked, "Things have come

a bonny cripus !" what was his companion to

AND PICCADILLY.

join
IS to drive over
with two ladies
auld call at nine,
inda in his pock,
but nevertheless
ihould be so late

brightening, as
ou are ready to
rdon very much,
iwake when he
d of him to send

four, as he me
letters that were
beg your pardon
jght I would put
ling down. Lad;
ome, what do you
ithusV"

»f the various en-
isent air. There
the German ex-
wice allowed his
1 a certain game

he. " Yes, per-
kfast was at six,
(lishness to waste
I will have some
time why do you

ilfour, " ray wife
liday down here,
hether it is an;

he was speaking,
s, and he paused
lents.
him dlf and part-
be pretty certain
rliament, or they
my han(ls. Per-
sure to be kick-

mtered the room,
the German lieu-
;racious way — for
and thanked him
had taken about

laugh. " No, no.
Lefevre's, and I
you will iind him
d, fine fellow— if
b our house, Ladj
see, when we be-
no selfishness in
his friends have
I bis keepers thej
e says if you willl
ir all the day, we

make of that absurd phrase? Von Rosen did
not know the story of the small boy iu northern
parts who was found bitterly sobbing, and dig.
ging his knuckles into his eyes; and who, on be-
ing asked what Was the matter, replied, in lan-
guage which has to be .softened for southern ears,
" Things have come to a bonny cripus ; I only
called my father an old fool, and he went and
kicked me behind." It was the introductory
phrase of this insulted boy that Calfonr used.
"Things have come to a bonny cripus," saiil he.

They drove along the crisp and crackling road.
The hoar-frost on the liedges was beginning to
melt; the sUnlight had draped the bare twigs in
a million of rainbow jewels ; the copper-colored
sun slio"'j over the black woods and the dank
green iields.

"Women are strange creatures," said Balfour
again ; ir.id this was a more intelligible remark.

" V»'liy do you say that y" asked the simple lieu-
tenant, who had noticed nothing at ureakfast be-
yond the coffee and the game |iie.

" I do believe," said Balfour, w ith a smile which
was not altogether a glad one, "that my wile is
beginning positively to hate every body and everv
tiling connected with Pa-liamont and [loliiits;
and that is a lively look out for me. You know
I can't go on staying down here. And yet I
shouldn't wonder if, wlicn Parliament meets, she
rehised to go up to London.''

" Xo, no, no," said the lieutenant; "there you
are very wrong. It is not reasoiiuble — not at all
reasonable. Slic may like the coiintiy heller;
but it is no; reasoiiiihle. That is what 1 tell my
wife now. She declares she will not go In liv,- in
America for a year, and leave her cliildrc-ii ; and
I say to her, 'You will think again about that.
It is a great tioiible that you will leave your chil-
dren ; it will be a great sorrow for a lime; but
what will you think of yourself after, if v<,u do
not do what is right for them '? When tliey grow
up, when tlity want money, what will ymi ililnk
if you have thrust away all that properly — and
only for a single year's al)sence?' "

"And has your wife proved reasonable'? has
she consented to go y" asked Balfour.

Von Rosen shrugged his shoulders.

" No — not yet. But I will not argue with Lor.
I will leave her to think. Oh, you do not know
what a woman will do, if she thinks it is for the
good of her ch'ldren. At present it is all 'Oh,
never, never! Leave my darling little girl, so
that she won't know me when I come back y Not
for all the money in America!' Well, that is
natural too, though it is foolishness. Yon (.oiild
not like to have your wife with too !im;,1 i liciit.
And I say to her, 'Yes, I will not ask you. We
are not so very poor that you must suli'er great
pain. If 3'ou will give up the Ameiicau pro|)er-
ty, give it up, and no more to be said.' But I
know. She is reasoning with lierself now. She
will go."

" Dc you think she wi.l?" said B.ilfour, thought-
fully. "Do you think she will give up so mucli
of her own feeling if she thinks it right ?"

"Know?" said the tall young German, with
one of his hearty laughs. " Yes, I know that
very well. Oh, there is no one so sensible as my
wife — not any one tfiat I know any where — u'
you can show her what is right. But if you ask
rac what I think of her uncle, that will cause so
much trouble all for his nonsense, then I think

GREEN PASTURE^; AND PICCAOILLY.

lie waH a most wrctdiod ft-llow — a most wietclietJ
and |)iiiul)li' IVlldw,"

Ili'fo own. 'red an iinintcHi^iliU' f;i'o\vl, wlioilier
ill (■oi'iiiiiii <>!' Kii^lisli |iliri.siM)li(^'y lii.-i cuiiipanioii
could not say ; liia doiilit'c.-s t||L' niiittci'i'd words
wt'ie not polite. AiiotI'L'i' man would lu'oliubly
liiive ^ivi'li additional i'oivo to tliis expression of
fi'idiii'4 l>y twiti'liinj; at tiio ivins; but Von Koscn
ni'vi'i' vttntod his iii)ii' on a liorst'.

Tiicy had a capital day's spui't, althuu;^li lial-
fonr, who was cxidcntly tliinkin^ of any tirm<; in
till' world ratliiT than pheasants, ral)bits, and
haivs, shot very l);idly indeed. Their iuneheon
was l)i'ou>,dit to them at a farm-house, tlie mis-
tress of the farm fjivini; tiiein the use of her sa-
cred parlor, in whii'li all tlio curiosities of orna-
ment and natural history contributed by three
geiieralioiis were relii^iously stoied. They <;ot
back to Von Rosen's house about six ; just in
timi- for a enp of tea and u chat before dressing
for an early country dinnei'.

Surely, one or two id' us who were sittin;; round
the lalile that evening; must have tliou;iht — surely
these two young people ought to have been hap-
py enough, if outward circnmstanees have any
thing to do with content (d' mind. There wa.s he,
in the prime of youthful hiaiiliood, wiili strength
written in every outline of the lioiiy frame and in
every lineament of the tirm, resolute, and sullieient-
ly lianilsome head, rich beyond the possibilities of
care, and having before him all the liopefulness
iiiid stimulus of a distinguished public career;
she, viuug, liigli-born, and beauiiful, with those
porious and shy eyes that went straight to the
lieart of the person she adilressed and secured
lier friends every where, also beyond the reach
of sordid cares, and most evi lently regarded by
lie.' liu. baixl with all alfection and aduiiration.
^Vll;U trouble, otiier than mere imaginary non-
sense, could enter into these linked lives? Well,
tliere was pn^sent at this dinner tliat Cassaiidia
of mar; led life who was ineiitioiied in the tirst
chapter of this highly moral and instructive tale,
and slie would liave answered these (piestioiis
quickly enough. She would have assumed — lor
Bhe knew nothing positive about the matter —
tliat these two were now beginning to cncountei'
the bitter disillusionizing experience of post-nup-
tial life. The liusbund was beginning to recog-
nize the fact that his wife was not quite the glo-
rious creature he had imngined lier to be; ho
was looking back with a wistful regret to the
perfectly false ideal of her he had formed before
marriage; while she, having dreamed that slie
was marrying a lover, and liaving woke up to
find she had only married a husl)and, was sutTer-
ing untold and secret misery because she found
her husband's heart transferred from her real
Bclf to that old ideal picture of herself which lie
had drawn in the dream-like past. This was
what she would have said. This was wliat she
was always preaching to us. And we generally
found it best in our neighborhood to give her
Most Gracious Majesty her own way ; so that this
tlieory, as regarded the conjugal relations of near-
ly every body we knew, was supposed to be strict-
ly accurate. At least nobody had the temerity to
question it.

"Lady Sylvia," said this very person, "why
don't yoii ever jjo up to London ? Mr. Balfour
mui't ibink he is a bachelor again when he is all
by himself in Piccadilly."

" I don't like Fiondon much," said Lady Sylvii
witli great composure. " Resides, my liiisbun
chiefly there on business matters, and 1 siioiil
only be in the way."

" Rut you take a great interest in polities," ol
served this inoiiitresH, who (loubtless cims'dera
that she was udiiiiiiistering some wholesome
cipline.

" .My wife may take some interest in politics,'
saiil llulfour, " but she has no great love for puli
tieians. 1 confess they are not picturesque or
teresting persons, as a rule. I am afraid the
worlilly wisdom, their callousness, is a tride shock
ing."

'' Well, at all events," said our Most rirncioii
Lady— for she was determined to put in a litlli
bit of remonstiaiiee, though she would gravr
have rebuked any body else for daring to do so-
" you have not iiiiich political work to distriic
your attention at present, I'arliament not sittinj
and all that exeilemeiit about a dissolution liavi
passed away."

"My dear Mrs. ," said lie, with n lnu;i

"now is the worst linu! of all; for a good mii
of us don't know whether we sliall lie in tlie iiis
Parliament, and we are trying what we can do
make our calling and election sure. It is a di:
agreeable business, Icit necessary To-morrow
for example, 1 am going to town to see two gtii
tlemeii about a bill they pi'o]iose I should intr
duce; lint 1 shall have io ask them first what
the betting itl/out my being able to get into I'ui
liament at all. My present constituents hiiv
proved very ungrateful, after the unfailing atiiii
tioii and courtesy 1 have lavished upon tlicin."

Here the (ieimaii ex-soldier burst into a grw
roar of laughter, as if there was any thing aniii:
iiig ill a young man's throwing contninely on
number of peisons who had done him the hoiii
of I'etuniing him to the llousi; of C'oinmons.

Rut, after all, it was not our business at lli
little dinner party to speculate on the liidilo
griefs that might neeouipany the outward geo
fortune of these two young people. We
more palpable trouble near at hand, as was n
vealed by an odd little aecitleiit that eveniii;
Our hostess had u great atfection for two boistci
ous young lads, who were the tions of the aiigi;
little woman just referred to, and she had invi
them to come into the dining-room after
Surely n inollier ought to teach these brats not
make remarks on what does not concern them
Now, as we were talking in an aimless fashi^
about the Ashantee war, the recent elections, an
what not, a sudden sound outside stilled us
silence. It was the children of the church
who had come up to sing us a Christmas card
and the sound of their voices outside in the sli
night recalled many a vivid recollection,
awoke some strange fancies about the
year. What were most of us thinking of then
This young ass of a boy all at once says, "
Auntie Bell, where will you be next Christmas
And do they sing Clii istnias carols far away i
America V" And Auntie Rell, being taken ratln
aback, said she did not know, and smiled ; but
smile was not a glad one, for we knew that su<~
tears had started to the soft and kindly eyes,
were not quite so happy as we went home
night. And when some one remarked to
mother of those boyn — But there, it is no use
monstrating with women.

dis iiv

in ii«

t)()d.

On the tnoi

lalfour woulc
»vor with w
; out. It w
lint he shoiil
tvf Christinai
OHIO trumpc

^lit have I

iirlit have r

is life must

avo recalled

crest in publ

single day'f
rert by a p
as, after all,
0. He had
ictory over hi
How her to
aving been w
laiiily chosen
c would niak
le. And so,
I by, he sa

"Ry-the-wa;
y the Hall at
lat trouble —
■perhaps ho

Well, she di

"And I shi
orrow forenc

But as he d
ruction of \\
I amiably di
lioin he cor
longly — to I

Ip from Lai
iiir said to h
If and his w
s opinion of
ft'w thousaiK

him ; it wa:
ifc should n

money coul
When he re
r and Mrs. I
Id return <
an at
He looke
s son-in-law
companied I
"The fact
the point, "
because si
e about busi

nslf vou ah

, I don't I

who

fere ; but n

to vou — "
;'Ah! theg
illowby, witi
ughter had
pression of

or instinct

drove ovei
my do

a Icecii, a
has no m<
^d at this

itc )iili

dosser lokiiig i

ml
did

an
comin pecially

dde iJ-
V
tb nized

luring toilo>
work to distriu'
iiiciit Dot sittiiii;
ifi^olutioii liiivi

ic, witli a liui;j

GKEEN PASTURES AND PICCAOILLY.

•»

CHAPTER XXni.

A CONFICSStON.

atd Lady Sylvii

*, my huHlniiid I

rs, mid 1 slioul . , . , . , . , ,

On the morninR of liw departure for London,

i in nolitifB"ub lnlf'^U'' would take no notice of the marked dia-

tless consMltici »vor with which Lady Sylvia regarded his set-

! wliolciiunic (lis ing out. It was hard on the poor cliild, no doubt,

hut he Bhould leave her in the midst of these

ireHt in politics' cw Christmas holidays, and all for the sake of

cut love for pdii "'"O trumpery Parliamentary business. lie

icturesnne or in 'in'it have remonstrated with her, it is true ;

aiu afraid tliiii ii!-''>t have reminded her that she knew what

is a tride shock i'' '''<^ must be when she married him; might

ave recalled her own professions of extiunio in-

ir Most rmieiou ■res't in public affairs; might have asked her if

to nut in a lilil sinf?'" day's absence — which, ho had tried to

e woidd gravil ff't l>y ^ proposal which she had rejected —

as, after all, such a desperate business. Hut
He had no wish to gain an argumentative
ictoryover his beautiful young ;i'ife. He would
lluw her to eherit'h that con.solatory sense of
aving been wronged. Nay, more ; since she had
iiiuly chosen to live in a world apart from his.

for a good man c would make her life there as happy as jwssi
lall be in the iiix li'' •'^'"1 >'"i '*** '"-' Ifwsed her in bidding her
hat we can do K niHlby, ho said,
ure. It is a di;
,ry. To-morrow
II to see two gcii
^e I sliould inti'
hem first what i
; to get into I'ui
'oustitucnts liar
e unfailing attiu
hI upon them,"

" I{y-the-way, Sylvia, I might as well go round
vtlie Hall and see your father. If he is in all
lat trouble — this is Christmas-time, you know
-perhaps he will let me help him."

Well, she did look a little gratefid.

"And I shall be down as soon as I can to-
orrow forenoon," he added.

but as he drove away from Tln^ Lilacs in the
ruction of Willowby Hall, he did not al all feel

iiist in'.o a grw ' amiably disposed toward his wife's father,
any thin" anui! li"'" he conjectured — and conjectured quite
contunidv on longly — to have been secretly soliciting tliis
(• him the hoiu ;lp fi'om Lady Sylvia. But at all events, Hal-

ur said to himself, the relations between him-
If and his wife were of more impoicance than
s opinion of Lord Willowby. The s.critice of
ft'w thousand poiuids was not of mucn concern
him ; it was of great concern to him that his
lie should not remain unhappy if this matter
money coidd restore her usual cheerfulness.
When he reached the Hall, he found that Ma-
r and Mrs. Blytlie had left the day before, but
.d she had invite said return 'ir Christmas. Lord Willowby was
Dom after dessei loking an after-breakfast cigarette in the libra-
He looked surprised when Balfour entered ;
s son-in-law \}\ 1 not often paid him a visit un-
n aimless fashio coinpanied bj ..ady Sylvia.

jf Commons.

business at tlii
e on the hiddt
llie outward g(io
leople. We lia

hand, as was n
.■nt that eveniiij
n for two boistci
oiis of the augii

these brats not I
ut concern the

.•ent elections, an
ide stilled us inl

' the church clioi t because she imagines you are in some trou-
, Christmas carol
jutside in the sti
recollection, an ' .

bout the coniin pecially when I have not been solicited to in-
rfere ; but really, you know, if I can be of serv.

blinking of then

t once says, "01 (toyou— "

next Christmas
sarols far away
(ciiig taken ratli(
id smiled ; but tb

I kindly eyes. V

The fact is," tid Balfour, coming straight
the point, " Sylvia is rather distressed at pros

c about business matters. Slie thinks I ought
aslf you about it, and see if I can help you.
ell, I don't like interfering in any one's affairs.

" Ah ! the good girl — the dear girl !" said Lord
iliowby, with that effusiveness of tone that his
ugiiter had learned to love as the only true
pression of affection. " I can see it all. Her

knew that audde ider instinct told her who that man was whom

tt drove over the day before yesterday ; she rec-

i went home tb tiiised my despair, my shame, at being so beset
remarked to tl & leech, a blood-sucker, a miserable wretch
ere it is no use t 'o has no more sense of honor — "

And at this point Lord Willowby thought fit

to get into a hot and indignant rage, which in
no measure impo.sed on his son-in-law. Balfour
waited patiently until the outburst was over.
Perhaps he may have been employing his leisure
considering liow a man could be besui by a leech ;
but inadvertently he looked out of window at his
horses, and then he thought of his train.

" And indeed, Balfour," said his lordship, al-
tering his tone, and appealing in a personal and
plaintive way to his son-in-law, " how couhl I speak
to you about these matters V All your life you
have been too well off to know any thing about the
shifts that other men have sotnetimes to adopt."

" My dear Lord Willowby," said Balfour, with
a smile, " I am afraid it is those very shifts that
have led you into your present troubles."

"If you only knew — if you only knew," said
the other, shaking his head. " But there ! as my
dear girl is anxious, I may as well make a clean
breast of it. Will you sii down V"

Balfoiu' sat down. Ho was thinking more of
the train than of his father-in-law's atlairs.

" Do you know," said Lord Willowby, with
something of a |)atlietic air, " that you are about
the last man in the world to whom I should like
to reveal the cause of my present anxieties. You
lire — you will forgive me for saying so — apt to
bo linirsh in your judgments ; you do not know
what temptations poverty puts before you. But
my dear girl must plead for nio."

Balfour, who did not at all like this abject tone,
merely waited in mute attention. If this revela-
tion was to lie protracted, he would have to take
a Inter train.

"About a year n J a half ago," saiJ his lord-
ship, letting his eyes rest vaguely on the arm of
Balfour's easy-ehair, " things had gone very badly
with me, and I was easily induceil into joining a
speculation, or rather a series of speculations, oil
the Stock Exchange, which had been projec'-.;d
l)y several friends of mine who Inul been wit'.i me
in other undertakings, Tiiey were rieli men, and
could have borne their previous losses ; I was a
poor man, and — and, in short, desperate. More-
over, they were all business men, one or two of
them merchants whose names are known all over
the world ; and I had a fair right to trust to their
prudence — had I not V"

" Prudence is not of much avail in gambling,"
said Balfour. " However, how did you succeed V"

"Our operations (which they conducted, mind
you) were certainly on a largo scale — an enor-
mous scale. If they had come out successfully, I
should never have touched a company, or a share,
or a bond, for tiie rest of my life. But instead of
that, every thing went against us ; and wliile one
or two of us could have borne the loss, others of
us must have been simply ruined. Well, it oc-
curred to one or two of tlie.=e pers(uis — I must
beg you to believe, Balfour, that the suggestion
did not come from nie — that we might induce
our broker, by promises of what we should do for
him afterward, to assume the responsibility of
these purchases and become bankrupt."

A sudden look of wonder — merely of wonder,
not yet of indignation — leaped to the younger
man's face.

" My dear fellow," pleaded Lord Willowby, who
had been watching for this look, " don't bo too
rash in condemning us — in condemning me, at
all events. I assure you I at once opposed this
plan when it was suggested. But they had a

•8

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

gmat nmny rcaHonH to advance againRt niino. It
wiirt iiiiikiii({ nti(> mail liaiikriipt iiiittcud o/ several.
Tlii'ii nil u'liii.i would the Iohhuh full? Why, on
tlic jiiltlii'i,<, who iti'u the real gaiiiblerH of the
Stoi'U i'ixc'haiiKc, and who can easily HuiTer a few
\WM'H when pitted aKiiiiiHt their eiiornions gains."

" Kilt how wiiH it poHHilde V" exulainied iiulfuur,
who liiid not yet recovered from hin amazement.
•'Kiii'cly the joIiIutk could have appealed to the
inan'H IiooI<h, in which all your nainuet would have
been found,"

" I a^Hiiii' you, Halfoiir," said his lordship, with
a lool( of eiirni'st sincerity, "tliat so iniicli whs I I
opposed to tile sclieme t'liat I don't loiow liow !
that dillleiilly was iivoiiled. Perhaps he hud a |
new set of hooks prepared, and biii'ned the old
ones. IVi'hiips he had from the outset been in-
duced to enter his own name as tlie purchaser of !
the viiriolis stocks."

" Hill that would have been worse and worse — !
a downi'ij;lit conspiracy to swinille from tlie very [
beirimiiii^. Wliy, Lord \Villowl)y, you don't mean
to siiy timt you allowitd yoiirseli to be iissdciiited '
Willi siieli a — well, perhaps 1 had better not give !
it a niimr." ' I

" .My (iiiii' Hiilfoiir," siiid his lordship, returning '
to liis piillidic lone, "it is well for you that you j
have iii'Vcr ."iiI'lVicil Iriiiii the temptations of puv- |
erty. 1 IVnred yoin' jiKigmeiit of my coiidiiet |
would be Imrsli, Voii see, you ilon't tiiink of the
e.xlciiiiMtiii^; circiiiiisliiiiccs. I knew not'iiiij; of I
this |iliiii wlieii I went into llie co|)aitiie;'sliip of
speciilutioii — I can not, even say tliat it existed.
\'i rv well ; when my paitiicr.-' came to me and
showed me a selieiiie tJiiit would save tlieiii from
ruin, WHS 1 openly to deiiouiic(! and lietray them
iiici'i ly because my own eouscieiice did not exact-
ly approve of the menus they were adopting;?"

" io I'oniloiie a felony, even with tlie purest
and liinlicsi motives — "said Hiilfoiir; and witii
tinil Lonl Willowliy siidilinly rose from his eliiiir.
'i'liiii sii!}{li' phiMSe had toiiclied liiiii into reality.

" Look here, Hiilfour — " said lie, angrily.

Hill ilie younger man went on with great calm-
ne.--' to explain that he had probably been too
hasty in using these words before hearing the
wlioic story, lie begged Lord Willowby to re-
gard him (Hiilfour) as one of the public: wliat
would the public, knowing nothing of Lord Wil-
lowby's private character, think of tlie whole
transactiiiii V And then he prayed to be allowed
to know how the atrair had ended.

" 1 wish it inm ended," said Lord Willowby,
mibsiding into iiis chair again, and into his cus-
tomary gkmiiiy expression. " This man appears
to consider us as being ((uito at his mercy. They
have given him more money than ever they proiii-
iBcd, yet he is not satisHcd. He knows quite
well that the jobbers suspected what was the
cause of his bankruptcy, though they could do
nothing to him ; now he threatens to disclose the
whole buHiness, und set them on us. He says
he is ruined as far as is practicable ; and that if
we don't givis him eiioiigli to retire on and live
at his ease, ho will ruin every one of us in pub-
lie reputation. Now do you sec how the case
stands V"

He saw very clearly. He saw that he dared
not explain to his wife the story he had been
told ; und lie knew she would never be satisfied
until he had advuneed money in order to hush
up u gigantic frauX What he thought of this

dilemma can easily be surmised ; what ho saiij
about it was simply nothing at all.

"And why should he come at me?" said Lonl
Willowby, In an injured way. " I have no nidii.
ey. When ho was down here the day before yes.
terday, he used the plainest threats, iiut what
can I do y"

" I'roseeute him for attempting to obtain moncjr
by threats."

" But then the whole story would come out."

" Why not — if you can clear yourself of all
complicity in the mutter y"

Surely this was plain, obvious good sense. But
Lord Willowby had always taken this young man
to be a ))ersoii of poor imagination, limited syin-
patliies, and cold practical ways, It was all vuiy
well for him to think that the case lay in a nut-
shell. He knew better. He had a sentiment of
honor, lie would not betray his compaiiinn^.
In order to revenge himself on this wretciu'J
worm of a blood-sucker, would he stoop In lio-
come an informer, and damage the fair rcpiita.
tions of friends of Ids wiio had done their lii'<t
to retrieve his fallen fortunes?

He dill not frankly say all this, but ho hintcJ
at soiiK'thing of it.

" Your gi'iicrosity," said Balfour, apparently
willi no intention of sarcasm, "may be very lia-
ble; but let us see exactly what it may lead to.
What I'.oes this man propose to do, if he is iioi
pi'i'! sullicient money y"

'"Oil, he threatens every thing— to bring
action against us, t<; give the jobbers inl'ormalidn
wliicli will enable them to bring an action, aiitl
so fortli."

" Tlii'ii your friends, at all events, will liavi'
pay a large sum; and both you and they will
ruined in cliaiacter. That is so, isn't it ?"

" I don't know aliout character," said this iiimr
hunted creature. " I think I could make soiiif
defense about that.''

"I don't think your defense would affect tlie
public verdict," said this blunt-spoken son-in-hnv

" Well, be it so !" said his lordship, in despcr
ation. " Let us say that the general voice
business men — who, of course, never employ any
stratagems to ^'ct out of predieainents in tluir
own alfairs — will say tliat we conspired to com.
mit a fraud. Is tliat plain enoiigli laiigiiuirc!
And now perhaps you will say that the threat is
not a siitticieiitly serious one y"

"I will say nothing of tlie kind," said Balfmir,
quietly. " The whole ease seems much more
rious than any one could have imagined. Of
course, if you believe you could clear yourself,
say again, as I said before, bring an action against
the man, and have the whole tlung out, whoever
suffers. If you are disinclined to take tlii||
course — "

" Well, suppose I am V"

" In that case," said Balfour, rising, " will yoii
give me a day or two to think over the affair?"

" Certainly ; as many as you like," said LorJ

I Willowby, who had never expected much from

the generosity of this son-in-law of his.

! And so Balfour gi)t into his trap again, and

; drove on to the station. Nothing that had hup-

])ened to him since his marriage had disturbeil

; liini so much as the revelation of this story. He

I had always had a certain nameless, indefinable

I dislike to Lord Willowby ; but he had nevet

suspected him capable of conduct calculated to

iiriiig dislion(
ciiuiigh, ill till
pioii was that
iilniost inevit;
via. Slie liai
lidicved in 1
tiiiii. In the
III licr ears, v
it, and chall
ai.'-oy

Tiiat eveni
frii'iiiis dined
ft more or le.>i
it was propoi
of his lieing
fli'ction. Sti
this talk wit
iilistrueted, a
iisst'iited to a
sary todispiil
iiu'iiibi'r of 1
liiiiiself was
to tlie couiitr
I am going t
shall be thro'
liiivs into tlu
liiother. An
singular felie
ofthcmost pi

TlIKRE is T

ptiictcst virt
lint, curiousi;
hiinself conf
liiainls — that
i/iiiil Willow
fnl Cransacti(
iiliiiuld dine i
nl' doubtful II
lii'dtlicr, he 1
iiig to the la
That was a i
iiig a few fi
a wiiole evil
tile company
listed. Bill
Kitlier CO
tli'.iuirlit to (
scniunlons a
ly lia.'sli aiK
tliiisc who wc
iionncL'd aiiti
nam docs i
nimlily his CI
Thcii,"tlieve
ridsiiic, whic
lie had lent
lie ddi'iid li
K'lcil Lord W
I'V, to go into
iiiit do tliat.
niock liiimili
lowby was (
this precioui?
entangled in
cd or condoii
at all, it was

; what ho saH

rie ?" said Lord

hiive no inon-

lay before vcs.

itH. liut what

obtain inonc;

Id come out.
yourself of all

od senso. Rut
this younp; man
n, limited syin.

It was till vwj
>e lay in a nut-

a !«iMitimeiit of
is compaiii(>ii4.

tills wretelii'J
le stoop (II lie-
lie fair ri'puia.
lone their iii'st

but ho hiiitd

)ur, apparently
lay bf V(iy nu-
ll may lead to.
do, if he is im

■to briiii^ iiii
ers inl'(»nnaliiiii
an UL'tion, aiitl

its, will have to
iiid they will
isn't itV"
," said this pimr
iihl make soiu

rould affect tlie
)ken son-iii-hiiv
Isliip, in desjiiT-
eiieral voice of
iver employ iiiiy
liuients in tiitir
nspii'ed to coiU'
lU^li laii^iia^e!
lat the threat h

I," said Balfiiiir,
! much move .?e-
imagined. 01
clear yourself,
n action against
ng out, whoever

1 to take tlii||

•islng, " will you
er the affair?"
like," said I.on
ited much from
of his.
trap again, and
ig that had Imp-
J had disturbeJ
this story. He
less, indefinable
he had nevet
ict calculated to

GIIEEX PASTURES AND rit'C.'.l

liriim dishonor on the family name. And oddly
('nullah, in this cmcrf^eiiey, his greatest appivlieii-
^i()ll was that he iiiiglit not be able to eoiieeal the
iilinost inevitable public scandal from Lady Syl-
via, She had always loved her father. She hail
liclieved in his reduiiduiil expiessions of ailVe-
tliiii. In the event of this great scandal eoiniiig
t(i lier ears, would she not indigiiiuitly repudiate
it, and challenge her liusbund to re|)udiate it
also y

Tiiat evening, by appointment, Balfour's two
fi'ii'iids dined with liiiii at his eluli; and they had
a iiiDie or less discursive chat over the bill which
it was proposed he should inlroiluce in the case
of his being reseated at the following general
election. Strangely eiioiiLrli, he ilid not enter into
this talk wii,h any particular /.est. He seemed
abstracted, absoibeil; several times he vaguely
assented to an opinion which he found it neees-
sii V to dispute directly afterward. For what the
iiienibcr of Hallinasi'roon was really saying to
liiniself was this: "To-morrow I go down again
tti tlie country. My wife will want to know what
I am going to do about her father's affairs. I
shall be thrown a good deal (lining the next few
(lavs into the society of Lord Willowby and his
linither. And on Ciiristmas-day I shall have the
singular felicity of dining in the company of two
of the most promising scoundrels in this country."

CHAPTER XXIV.

CHRISTMAS SKNTIMENT.

TiiKRE is no saying what a man, even of the
."trictest virtue, will do for the sake of his wife.
Hut, curiously enough, when Hugh Balfour found
himself confronted by these two disagreeable de-
mands — that he should lend or give a sum to
iiiivd Willowby in order that a very disgrace-
ful iransaetion should be hushed up, and that he
should dine on Cliristnias evening with that peer
of doubtful morals and his still iiim'e disreputalile
liiDtlier, he found far more dilliciilty in assent-
ing to the latter than to the foriiicr proposition.
That was a matter of a few moments — the writ-
ing a few figures on a clicck ; this was spending
a whole evening, and Christmas evening too, in
the company of people whom lie despi.sed iiini ile-
tcsteil. IJui w hat will not a man do for his v, ifc ?

Killier eoiicossion was a siilliciently lilitor
(Iraiirht to driiil:. He had iilvays b xn ki'dily
Fcnipnloiis about money matters, and iii)pati>'nt-
ly liu'.sh and e«nteiii|itiioiis iu his jiKlgiiieiit o!'
those who were otlieiwise. He had iornicd a (iio-
iioinieod antipathy ULrainst Lo'.'d ^Villowl)y, and a
nian does not care to ^traiM his conscience or
luiiilify his creed for a ])ei'Soii whom he disliloes.
Then, thevc was the possibility of a iiublic dis-
I'losme, which would probalily reveal the fact that
he had lent Lonl Willowby this money. Could
le (lefi'ud himself l)y saying that he liad coun-
seled Lord Willowby, bel'oie leiuling him the mon-
ey, to go into court and clear himself V He would
Hot do lliar. When he gave that advice, with
niock Immility, he knew perfectly that Loid Wil-
lowby was only prcvaiieating. He knew that
this precious father-in-law of his was hopelessly
entangled in a fraud which he had cither concoct-
ed or condoned. If this money were to be lent
at all, it was franl. to be lent in order that the

man who ilncaii'iieil (o inform slioii!! In- lioiight
over to hold lii.^ pi a<'>'. lint llieii wiiat is it that
u young and dcvoird liusliund will nut do for hid
wife?

Moreover, the nu)re distressing of the two de-
mands had til be met first. Lord Willowliy t(dd
him that his partners in that scheme of cheating
the jobbers liad resolved to meet on the Hrst of
the new year to consider what was to be done;
so that in the mean lime Balfour could allow his
conseieiice to rest, so far as the money was con-
cerned. But in the mean time came Christmas;
and he told his wife that he had no objection to
joining that family party at the Hall. When he
said that lie had no objection, he meant that he
had about twenty dozen, which he would over-
rule for her sake. And indeed Lady Sylvia's de-
light at his consent was beautiful to see. She
spent day after day in decorating Willowby Hall
with evergreens; she did not altogether neglect
The Lilacs, l)Ut then, you see, there was to be no
('hristmas party there. She sang at her work ;
she was as busy as she could be ; she even wish-
ed — in the fullness of her heart — that her cousin
Honoria were already arrived to help her. And
Balfour? Did he assist in that pretty and idyllic
pastime? (dldly enough, he seemed to take a
greater inten-st than ever in the Von Rosens and
some neighbors of theirs. He was constantly over
among us; and that indefatigable and bu,<y idler,
the (leriiuin ex-lieiiteiiant, and he were to be seen
every day starting off on some new business — a
walking-match, a run with the thistle-wliippers,
a sale of hay belonging to the railway; in fact,
any thing that did not lead those two in the di-
rection of Willowby Hall. On one occasion he
suddenly said to our Queen T ,

" Don't you tliiiik Christmas is a terribly dull
business 'y"

"We don't find it so," said that smiling per-
s 111 ; " we find it terribly noisy — enough to ruin
one's nerves for a week."

" Ah," said he, " that is (piite different. I can
understand your enjoying Cliristnias when you
have a eiiildieii's |)arty to occupy the evening."

"1 am sure," said our Sovereign Mistress, who,
to do lier jdstiei', is always ready with little kind-
nesses — " I am (|uite .-lire we should all be so
glad if you and Lady Sylvia would come over and
spend tile evening with us ; wo would make Lady
Syhii the presiding fairy to distri'tnte the gifts
fi'diii tlie Cliristmiis tree. It is the most splendid
oM" we have ever had — "

" You are very kind," said he, with a sigh. "I
wish I could. There is other joy in store for me.
1 have to dine with some of my father-in-law's
relatives, and we shall have an evening devoted
to bad wine and the Tichbonie case."

And at length Cliristinas-day eaine round; and
then it appeared that Mr. Balfour was ex[ucted
to go from ehiiiTh to Willowby Hall and remain
there until the evening. This, lu' considered, was
not in the bond. He had managed to make the
acquaintance of a certain clergyman in the neigh-
borhood of Knglebury ; and this worthy prison
had just forwarded him the proof-sheets of an
essay on some public question or other, with a
meek request tloit Mr. Balfour would glance over
it and say whef er the case of the enemy had
been fairly and tully stated. This was coura-
geous and honest on the part of the parson, for
Mr. Balfour was on the side of the eneniy. No*

fJllEEN TASTIKKS AND 1M('('AI)ILI-Y.

aa thin article was to he [Mililislicil in » tmindily
inaKiizlne, was it not <il' iriciit iiiiiKHiiiiu'c timt tlic
answer ^>lll)llUI lie rctMiicil at nine y It Liiiiv
Svlvia wimlil ;;(> (Hi to tiic Mall wiili licr |>a|iu, lit',
liall'oiii', woiilil iviuni to Tiii' l.ilurs, ;;i't liiirt liil
of lii>iiu'SH ovi'c, anil join tlic ^ax laiiiily puitv iii
I'.c ..'vi'niiij;. I.ady Sylviii nci'ini'tl rather tlisap-
;iointeil that tills eler^yinan slioiiid liave tleftriveil
liur hiisliaiid of tliu |ilensiire of t<|)eii(lin}{ the
^ lioie liay in tlie soeieiy of her relatives ; liiit she
eoMsented to thi^ arian^enient, and lialfutir, willi
iniieh eonteni, spent Ciiristnias-day by hiin>elf.

And then, in the hush uf the still and saered
exeninf;, this huppy family parly met round the
Ciu'lslnias board. It was a pleasant picture — for
the bare dinin^-ruoin looked mo lun};er bare, when
it was laden with srailet berries and ^reen leaves,
uikI Lord Willowby coulil not protest against a
waste of candles ou such a id^ht. Then, with his
beautiful youii^ wife presidiiij{ at the head of the
table — herself the pei feet type of gentle Kn^llsh
noiiiiinliood — ami llonoria Ul}llie's merry black
eyes doiii;^ their vei'y best to faseinale and enter-
tain liini, why slioild this uujjrateful Scotch boor
have resolved to play iliu part of Apennintnsy Of
eoui'se he was ouf.vardly very civii — nay, I'ornntl-
ly courteous; bu; theie was un air of isolation
iibout hiui, as if he were sitliuf; there by an ex-
ercise of con.-'iaihi. IK; rarely took wine any
win . ' when he did, he alm(i>t never noticed
what lie drauii : wiiy was it, llierelore, that Ik?
now tasted e\ery thii:;_% and put the fflass dov, n
as if he were calculating^ whither sililden death
niif^lit not ensue':' And when Major Hiythe, aft-
er talkiiij! very loudly for some time, mentioned
the word " Tiehborne," why should this man ejac-
ulate — apparently to himself — "<) ^ood Lord!"
in a tone that somehow or other produced u dead
silence.

" I'erlmpa it is no matter of enneern to you,"
said M.ijor lilythe, with as iniieli ferocity as he
dared to assume toward a man w ho ini^lit possi-
bly lend him money, "that an inauccnt puiiiuii
Bhould be so biutiilly treated?"

"Not much," said Halfotu", humbly.

" I dare say you have not followed the case
very closely, Hnlfour," said his lordship, interven-
inj; to ))revent a di>pute.

"No, 1 have not," he said. "In fact, I would
much rather walk the other v.ay. But then," ho
added, to Miss lloe.oria, who was seated by him,
"your papa must ni>t imagine that 1 have not an
opinion as to who the (JIannant really is."

"No I" exclaiuied llonoria, with her splendid
eves full of tlieatrieul interest. "Who i.s he,
then ?"

" I discovered the secret from the very begin-
ning. The old i)ro|)hecies have been fulKlled.
The ravens have Hown away. Frederick Uarbu-
rossa has come back to the world at last."

" Frederick liarliarossa y" said Miss llonoria,
doubtfully.

" Yes," continued her instructor, seriously.
" His other name was O'Donovun. He was a
Fenian leader."

" Susan," called out her brat of a brother, " he's
only making a fool of you ;" but at any rate ♦he
Borry jest managed to stave off for a time the la-
evitable tight about the fat person from the colo-
uies.

It was a happy family gathering. Balfour was
BO pleased to see a number of relatives enjoying

themselves top-ther in lliio manner tImt he wmil
not lor the world have the parly split itself in;,
two after diimer. Uetnaiii to drink .Madeira \\lii]
the lailies were nolii;^ to sing their pious ('liii>i
mas hymns in the other room? Never! Miijur
lilylli(> sail! by gad he wasn't going into iIk
dniwing-room just yet; and poor Lord Willowli
looked helplessly at both, not knowing whieli t
yield to. Natuially, his duties us host prevailcil
He sat down with his brother, ami offered liiii
some Madeira, which, to teii the truth, was vcr;
good indeed, for Lord Willowby was (die of tlii
men who think they can condone the poisoiilin
of their guests during dinner by giving them
decent glass of wine afterward. iJalfour wriii
into the drawing-ro(mi and sat d'j«n by his wife,
llonoria having at her request goiut to the piaiiu.

"Why don't you stay in the diningrooin,
Hugh V" said she.

"Ah," said lie, with a sigh, "Christmas evrn.
ings are far too short for the joy they eoutaiii
1 did not wish the happiness of this family giitl:
ering to be too much llavmed with Tiehboriie,
What, is your cousin going to sing now —

oil, liow sweet It Is to 8eo
bivtiireii dwell In eiiiiill) t

or some such thing y"

She was hurt and olTended. He had no ri
to scoff at her relaiive.'i ; bi'caiise if there was iini
discordant element in that gathering, it was hiiii'
self. They were civil enoiigii to him. They wei
not (|uarieling among tlieiiiselves. If there wat
any interference with the thoughts and feeliiii;:
appropriate to Christmas, he was the evil spl
who was disturbing the emotions of tliose pioiu
souls.

Indeed, she did not know what demon had got
possession of him. He went over to Mrs. Hlytlio,
a woman whom slie knew he heartily dislike
and sat down by that majestic three-decker, aiiJ
paid her great and respectful attention, ili
praised Ilonoria's playing. He asked to wluii
college tlicy meant to send Johnny when tliii
promising youth left school. He was glud to Sf
the Major looking so well and hearty: did lie
take his morning ride in the Park yet? Mi
lilythe, wlio was a dull woman, nevertheles.-i I
her suspicions; but how could she fail to
civil to a gentleman who was complaisance pe
soniliiid?

Ills spirits grew brighter and brighter; he w;
quite friendly witli Lord Willowby and his youngii
brother when they came in from the dining-room.
Lady Sylvia deeply resented this courtesy, becaii?
she thought it arose from a sarcastic apjireciatiun
of the incongruity of liis iiresence there ; wlierciu
it was merely the result of a consciousness that
the hour of his release was at hand. He had done
his duty; he had sacriticed his own likings foi
the sake of his wife ; lie had got through this din-
tasteful dinner; and now lie was going back tos
snug room at The Lilacs, to a warm tire, an easy
chair, a pi|ie, and a friendly chat.

But who can describe tlie astonishment of these
simple folks when a servant came in to say that
Mr. Balfour's carriage was at the door y Only ten
o'clock — and this Christmas night !

" Surely there is some mistake, Hugh ?" said liu
young wife, looking at iiiin witli great surprise.
" You don't wisli to go home now y"

"Oh yes, child," said he, gravely. "I don'l

or timt he wmilj
H|)lit itHclr in;,)

l< Mii(K'ini wli.
'ir pioiiH Cliiisi,

N'i'vit! Miiji
piiiiH into ill,

Lord Williiwlii
lowing wliiili \:

host iircviiilcj
iiiul ofTerod liim

tnidi, wan V

wits (IIIU of tli«

tlio |)oiHoniii||
y niviiin tlit'iii »
liall'oiir wi'iii

L»W II \)\ ll'lH Wifo,

iiu; to tliu |iiiinu.
lu (liiiiiig-ruoin,

("liristnmH ovon.
>v tlifv foiitaiii,
his I'liniily pull

with Ticlihoriie,

in now —

8(>0

lilt) I

He hiul no ri;;lii
it' there was nut
rin^, it was him'
!iilii. Thcywi'ii;
s. If then,' waj
ills and ftH'liiii.'i
s tiic evil s|iini
id uf those iiidiM

it demon luid f^oi
!r to Mis, Hlvllif,
hi'urtily dishliiii,
lliree-dfcker, uiiJ

uttcntion. lie
i usiied to wliai
hnny when tliat
u wuH ^lud to see

huartv : did
I'arii yet? Mi>
iii'vertlii'les.s ImJ
I siie fail to In
jinplaisuiic'c poi

luightcr; hewiii
yundhi8}'oiiii;;ur
tlie diniii^-i'oum
jotirtesy, beuaiiiie
stie apin-oeiutiun
J there ; wlieioiu
iiiseiuiisiio.ss tliat
id. He hud (lone
own liliiii^H
through tliis dis-
I going buel< toi
irm tire, un eus}'

lishincnt of those

lie in to say tliat

door y Only ten

It!

Hugh?" said iiii

1 greut surprise,
vy"
ively. "I don't

(iKKKN PASTl RKS AND I'UrADILI.Y.

Runt tn harp yon l<nocked up. It linH hern n Innp;
iliiy for you to-day."

Sill* suid not another w ird, hut got up Hiid
went to the door.

"(Niiiie, Sylvia," saiij her father, who liad open-
n\ the door for her, "you niiist give lis anntlier
hiiiir anyway : you are not very tired y tShull I
tell liiiii to take the horses out again y"

" No, thank you," naid slie, coldly. " I think I
will pi now."

" I am sorry," said Hiilfour, when she had gone,
"to break up your charming Christinas party;
but llio fact is, Sylvia has been very fatigued ever
ninee she put up those evergreens; and I am
rather afraid of the night air for her."

He did not explain what was the difference be-
tween the night air of ten o'clock and the night
air of eleven «»'clock ; for presently lindy Sylvia
cnine down Htnirn again wrapped up in furs, and
jlie was cHcortud out to the carriage with great
foieniony by her father. She was silent for a
time after they drove nway.

" Hugh," she said, abruptly, by-nnd by, " why
do you dislike my relatives so' ^md if you do
dislike them, I think you might try to conceal it,
for my sake."

" Well," said he, " I do think that i.i rather un-
grnluful. I thought I went out of my way to be
civil to tliein all round to-night. I think I was
mi)st tremendously civil. What was it, then, tl at
displeased you y"

She did not answer; she was opprcs.scd by bit-
ter thoughts. And when he tried to coax her
into conversation, she replied in monosyllables.
In this manner they reached The Lilacs.

Now before leaving home that evening he had
l!iven private instructions that a pretty little sup-
per was to be p epared for their return ; and
when Laily Sylvia entered, she found the dining-
ruum all cheerfully lit up, a lire blazing, and actu-
al oysters (oysters don't grow on the hedge-rows
of Surrey, as some of us know) on the table. This
wus how he thought he and she might spend their
first ('hristnias evening together, late as the hour
wiis; and he hastened to anticipate even the dili-
gent Anne in helping his wife to get rid of her furs.

" Now, Syllabus," said he, " come in and make
yourself comfortable."

" Thank you," said .she, " I am a little tire 1. I
tliiiik I will go up stairs now."

"Won't you come down again?"

" I tliink not."

And .so, without any great sen.ic of injury, niul
forgetting altogether the supper that was spread
out on tiie table, he shut himself up alone in the
still dining-room, and lit his pipe, and took down

Imok from the lilirary. Soon enough these
temporary disappointineiits were forgotten ; for
it was a volume of Keats he had taken down at
hap-hazard, and how could a man care what hap-
pened to him on the iirst Christmas evening of
his married life, if he was away in the dream-
land of " P^ndymion," and removed from mortal
cares?

Major Blythe and his family remained at Wil-
lowhy Hall for some few days ; Lady Sylvia nev-
er went near them. Nay, she would not allow
the name of one of her relations to pass her lips.
If her husband mentioned any one of them, she
changed the conver.sation ; and once, when he pro-
posed to drive over to tlie Hall, she refused to go.

On the other hand, she endeavored to talk pol-

ities to her husband, in a ftiff and fureecl way,
whieli nnlv :>ci ved to ui-lrc-s him. lie reliion.
stinted uilh her gi'lllly— for, imleed, he was nitlier
disappointed liiiit hi- li ihesl eiideiivoix to plcjise
her hail liorne so little fli.it — but hlie nidy gieW
more reserved iu tone. .Vinl lie cuiild iint iiiider.
staiitl why she should loituir hei-elf by this eoni.
|iulsory eonveisiilion alioiit |ioliiies, rmeign ami
domestic '.vheii he saw elearly that her deie-ta-
tioii of every tliirg connected with his public life
increased day by day, until — merely to save her
pain — he could have wished that there was no
such place as Knglebury on the map of Knglaiid.

He told her he had spoken to her father about
these pecuniary troubles, and olTeied to assist
him. She said that was very kind, and even kis.s.
ed him on the forehead, as sln' happened lo Im
passing his chair; but not even that would in-
duce her to talk about her father or any thing be-
longing to him. And, indecil, he himself eonhl
not be very explicit on the point, more especially
as every thing now pointed to his having to lend
Lord Willowby money, not to hush up a fraud,
but '>o defend a criminal prosecution.

About the third week in January all Knglaiul
was startled by the announcement that there was
to be an immediate dissolution of rarliament, and
that a general election would shortly IVdhnv, Ital-
foiir did not seem so perturbed as might have
been expected ; he even appeared to liiid some
sense of relief in the sudden news. He at oiieo
grew active, bright, eager, and full of a hundred
schemes, and the first thing he did was, (d' course,
to rush up to London, the centre of all the hurry
and disturbance that prevailed. Lady Sylvia nat-
urally remained in Surrey ; he never thought for
a moment of dragging her into that turmoil.

CHAPTER XXV.

VICTORV!

TnERK was not a moment to lose. All England
was in confusion — local ooniinittocs hastily as-
sembling. Parliamentary agents down in West-
minster wasting their substance on shilling tele-
grams, wire-pullers in Pall Mall pitifully begging
for money to start hopeless contests in tlie inter-
est of the party, eager young men fresh from
college cmisiilting their friends as to which im-
pregnable seat they should assault witli a de-
spairing courage, and comfortable and cldeily
members dolefully shaking their heads over the
possible consecpienccs of this precipitate step,
insomuch that the luncheon claret at their club
had no longer any charms for them. Am) then
the voluble i)artisnns,theeiithusiasts, the believe;. s
in the great liberal heart of Engiand, how liitie
did they reck of the awful catiistioplie impeiiding !
The abolition of the income tax would rally wa-
vering constituencies. The recent rever.ses at the
poll were only the result of a tein|)orary irrita-
tion ; another week would give llie govcrnnu-.it
an overwhelming majority. Alas! alas! Tliesu
confident professions were balm t'> many an anx-
ious heart, this or the other luckle.s wight seek-
ing all possible means of convincing himself that
his constituents could not be so cruel as to ou.-'t
him ; but they did not prevent those constituents
from arising and slaying their representative,
transforming him from a living and moving mem-

GREEN PASTURKS AND PICCADILLY.

ber of Parliament into a wandering and discon-
solate voice.

Balfour had to act and think for himself in this
crisis ; Mr. Bolitho was far too bu.'<y to attend to
such ii paltry place as Englcbury, even if lie had
been williiifi; to join in what he regarded as a
Quixotic .nivcnture. And now a strange tiling
happened. Ualfoiir liad long been of opinion that
his wife's notions of wliiit public life should be
were just a little too romantic and high-strung
to he priictieable. It was well she should have
thcin ; it was well that her ignorance of the world
allowed liur to imagine them to be possible. Hut,
of course, a man living in the denser and coarser
atmosphere of politics had to take human nature
as he found it, and could not afford to rule his con-
duct liy certain theories which, beautiful enough
in fiuMuselvi.-^, were merely visionary.

Oddly enough, however, and probably uncon-
sciously, he did at tliis : loraent rule his conduct
by Lady Sylvia's sentiments. It is true that, when
he first talked about that business of buying the
filched eonimon from Mr. Chorley and subse-
quently pieseiiting it to the Eiiglebury (leoplc, be
appeared to treat the wiiole affair as a joke ; but,
ail the same, he had expressed no great disap-
proval of tlie scheme. It was only after Lady
Sylvia's indignant protest that he came to consid-
er that pro])oHal as altogether detestable. Fur-
ther, when Uiilitlio suggested to hiiii that he
should try to oust the member then sitting for
Englebury, he saw no reason why he siioidd not
ti" to do so. Had not Uarnden himself led sim-
ilar assaults on seats deemed even more a per-
sonal pe'.c|uislte than his own? Harnden was
used up, WHS of no good to either party, liad
spoken of retiring: why sliould no( the seat be
eoiitoted y Tliis was Balfour's o})inion at the
time, anil he himself could not have told when he
had altered it. All the same, as he now hurried
up to London, he I'elt it would lie mean to try to
oust this old gentleman from iiis seat: if Harn-
den dii! not mean to resign, he, Balfour, would
make a rush at some other place — Evesham,
Shorehain, Woodstock, any quarter, in fact, that
was likely to covet the glory of returning so (i -
tingiiislied and independent a persim as himself.

And in his straightforward fashion he went
direct to this old gentleman, whom he found in a
little and old-fasliionod but famous club in St.
James's Street. The member for Englebury had
once been a fine-looking man, and even now there
was something striking about the firm mouth,
aquiline nose, keen eyes, fresh color, and silvery
hair; but tlie tall form was bent almost double,
and the voice was querulous and raucous. He
came into tlie "mall side room with Balfour's card
in his hand ; he bowed slightly and stiffly ; and
in tliat second had keenly studied his adversuiy's
face, as if he would read every line of the char-
acter impressed op it.

" Sit down,"' said he.

Balfour sat down, and appeared to consider for
a second or so how he would open the conver.sa-
iicTi. The two were familiar with each other's
appcirance in the House, but iiad never spoken.

"I suppose you know, Mr. Harnden, that they
raeai. to turn me out of Hallinascroon."

" Ves, I do — yes" said the old gentleman, in
a staccato fasliion. "And you want to tin'u me
out of I'^lnglebury ? Yes — I have heard thiit too."

"I thought of trying," said Balfour, frankly.

" But now I have made up my mind not to stand
unless there is a vacancy. There was a talk of
your resigning. I have called now to ask you
whether there was any truth in the rumor; if
not, I will let Englebury alone."

" Ay," said the elder man, with gruff emphasis;
" Chorley— that fool Chorley— told you, didn't lie?
You are in league v/ith Chorley, aren't you ? Do
you think that fellow can get my seat for youy"

" I tell you 1 don't mean to try. Sir, unless you
intend to give it up of your own free-will. Chor-
ley 'i Oh no ; I am not in league with Chorley ;
he and I had a quarrel."

" I didn't hear about that," said the old gentlo
man, still regarding his enemy with some re-
serve. "I haven't been down tliere for a long
time now. And so Chorley was humbugging
yon, was he ? You thought he had put yo'.i in
for a good thing, eh y Don't you believe that
ass. Why, he made some representations to me
some time ago — "

At this point Mr. Harnden suddenly stopped,
as if some new light had struck him.

" Ha, that was it, was it ? You quarreled with
him, did you ?" he said, glancing at Balfour 4
quick, shrewd look.

"Yes, I did," said Balfour, "and I swore I
would fight him, and you, and every body all
round, and win the seat in spite of any coalition.
That was vaporing. I was in a rage.'"

Mr. Harnden stroked Iiis hands on his knees
for some little time, and then he laughed and
looked up.

" I believe what you have tolil me," he said,
staring his enemy full in the face. "I sec now
why that presumptuous fellow, Chorley, mada
overtures to me. To tell _\ou the truth, I thought
he wanted me to spend more mon-v, or some-
thing of that sort, and I sent him about his busi-
ness. Well, Sir, you've done the best thing you
could have thought of by cjming straight to uie,
because I will tell you a secret. I had prepared
I a nice little plan for disliing both vou and
I Chorley."

I And here the old gen'lcman laughed again at

! his own smartness. Balfour was glad to find

him in this pleasant humor: it was not everj

one, if all stories be true, that the member lur

Englebury received so iilcasantly.

"I like the look of you," said Mr. Harnden.
bluntly. "I don't think you would play an;
tricks.'"

" I am very much obliged to you," said Bal-
four, dryly.

" Oh, don't you be insulted. I am an old man :
I speak my mind. And when you come to m^
time of life — well, you'll know more about elec-
tioneering dodges. So you've quarreled with
Chorlev, liavc you V"

" Yes."

" H'm. And you believed he would have given
you my seat ?"

" I thought with his help I might have won it
— that is, if his representations were true. 1 was
told yon weren't very popular down there, Mr.
Harnden."

"Perhaps not — perhaps not," said the old man.
" They grumble because I speak the truth, in Par-
liament and out. But don't you make any mis-
take about it — all that would disappear if another
man were to contest the seat. They'll stick t«
me at an election, depend on that, Sir."

d not to stand
was a talk of
)w to ask you
the rumor; if

ruff emphasis;
you, didn't he?
en't you ? Do
seat for you V"
Sir, unless you
ee-will. Ciior-
with Chorky;

the old gentle-
with some re-
ere for a long
i humbugging
ad put yo',1 in
u believe that
ntatious to uie

ik'uly stopped,
im.

quarreled with
; at Balfour a

mJ I swore I

every body all

t' any coalition.

ge.'"

'■ on his kncca

i laughed and

mo," he said,
. " I see now
Chorley, mada
;ruth, 1 thought
on-v, or soiiie-
aboiit his bu.si-
best thing you
strai^lit to uie.
I had prepared
both you and

ughed again at
s glad to find
was not every
le member for

I Mr. Ilurndeii.
ould play any

you," said Bui-

im an old man :
)u come to my
ore about elec-
juarrelcd with

)uld have given

;ht have won it
;re true. I wiw
uwn there, Mr.

lid the old man.
le truth, in Par-
make any mis-
•pear if another
rhey'll stick to
, Sir."

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

" Then you propose to remain in Parliament,"
said Balfour, rising. " In that case I need not
vaste your time furtlier."

"Stay a minute," said the old man, curtly.
"I told vou I meant to dish you and Chorley."

" Yes."

" Yon and I might dish Chorley, and you might
have the seat."

Uiiltbur was not an eniolional person, but he
was a young man, and desperately anxious about
his (M.iuees of being returned ; and at this abrupt
pioiio^ul his heart jumped.

"Tliere is something about that fellow thac
acts on me like a red rag on a bull," continued
tills irascible old man. " lie is as cunning as a
fox, and as slippery as an eel ; and his infernal
twaddle abo\it the duties of a member of Parlia-
ment — and his infernal wife too! Look here:
you are a yiiung niim ; you liave |)lenty of energy,
(io down at once to Englebury ; issue an address ;
pitL'li it high and strong about corrupt local in-
tiiu'Mce and intimiiiatioii ; denounce that fellow,
and call on the elecors to free themselves from
tiiL' tyranny of dictation — you know the sort of
l)Uiici)nil)e. Tiiat will drive Chorley over to me."

" You are excessively kind. Sir," said Balfour,
will), despite iiis disappointment, could not help
bursting out into a laugh. " I have no doubt
that would be excellent sport for you. Hut, you
:-i.'e, I wa:it to get into Parlianieut. I can't go
skviarking about Englebury merely to make a
fool of .Mr. Chorley."

"Tlicre's a good deal of the greenhorn about
you." saiil tlie eld gentleman, testily, for he did
not like being laughed at, " but tiiat is natural at
your age. Of course I nu'an to resign. I liad
thoug'iit of resigning in favor of that boy of fjord

S 's, wlu) is a clever lad, if he would give up

Fiench radicals and atheism. But I will resign
in your favor, if you like — at the last moment —
after Chorley has been working for me like the
hound he is. And what do you say to that,
yoang man ?"

Mr. Ilarnden rose, with a proud smile on his
face. lie was vain of his diplomacy; perhaps,
too, it plea.sed him to patronize this younger man,
to whom a .seat in the House was of such infinite
tunseiiuence.

"I|lo I understand, Sir, iii.it you meant to give
-|i vour seat in any case?" Balfour asked.

' Crtainly I diij," said the other. " If I wish-
il t(, retain it, do you tliink I should be afraid
of you — f mean of any candidate that Chorley
"I'lld brio/ forward V No, no ; don't you believe
liV such stulf Tlu; people of Englebury and I
hii.e had our <)uarrels, but we are good frienos
at li(/.t/>m. It will be a very disgraceful tiling
if they don't give me a handsome piece of plate
when I retire."

".My dear Sir," said Balfour, with saturnine
simplicity, " / will take care of that."

"And I am not going to spend a penny in a
bogus contest, mind that. But that is not your
business. Now go away. Don't tell any body
you have seen me. I like the look of you. I
think you have too many opinions; but as soon
as you get into some small office — and the gov-
ernment might do worse, I will say — you will get
I'ured of that, (iood-day to you."

There is a telegraph office at the foot of St.
James's Street. Balfour walked right down there,
and sent a message to his friend Jewsbury ut Ox-

ford : " Cotne down at once to the 'Green Fox,' Eiu
fflebiiri/. Home fun (/ohi</ OH." Then, finding ha
could just catch the afternoon train, he jumped
into a Hansom, and drove to I'addinglon Station.
He arrived at Englebury without even a tiioth-
brush; but he had 1 is check-book in his pocket.

The Hev. .Mr. Jewsbury arrived the next day,
and the business of the election began at once.
Jewsbury was in the secret, and roared with
laughter as he heightened the imngency of the
paragraphs which called on the electors of En-
glebury to free themselves from political slavery.
And Balfour laughed as heartily when he found
himself lashed and torn to i)ieces every morning
by the Jinf/kbiin/ Moriirn, because he looked
forward to the time when tiie editor of that im-
portant organ mi>;ht li've to change his tune, in
asking the sitting niendier to obtain the govern*
ment advertisements ioi him.

It was a fierce fight, id be stu'o ; and Mr. and
Mrs. Chorley had sueli faitii in their time-honored
representative that they called on tiu'ir fellow-
townsmen to raise r> sum to defray .Mr. Harnden'9
expenses. Then, on the night before the elec-
tion, the thunder-bolt fell. Mr. Harnden attend-
ed a meeting of his frien<is and supporters. Ho
thanked them most cordially for all they had
done on his behalf. The weight of years, he
said, was beginning to tell on him ; nevertheless
he had been loath to take his hand from the
plough ; now, however, at the last moment, he felt
it would be a mistake to task their kindness and
forbearance longer, iiut he felt it a privilege to
be able to resign in favor of an opponent who
had throughout treated him with the greatest
courtesy — an opponent who had already made
some mark in the House — who would do credit
to tiie borough. Tiiat the consiitiiency was not
divided in its opinions they would prove liy voting
for Mr. Balfour like < ne man. He called for
three eheers for his antagonist ; and the meeting,
startled, bewildered,, but at the same time vague-
ly enthusiastic, positively roared. • Whether Mr.
Chorley, who wai- op the plalfDciii, joined in that
outburst could noi well be iinide out. Next day,
as a matter of <'0Ui.;c, Mr. Hugh Balfour was
elected member cf Parliament for the borough of
Englebury; and he straightway telegraphed off
this fact to his wife. Perhaps she was not look-
ing at the newspapers.

Well, he was only a young man, and he was
no do-jbt proud of his success as he hastened
down to Surrey again. Then every thing prom-
ised him a glad home-coining; for he had learn-
ed, ill passing through London, that the charge
against Lord Willowby and his fellow-speculator.^
had been withdrawn — he supposed the richer
merchants had joined to buy the man off. And
as he drove over to The Lilacs he was full of
eager schemes. Lady Sylvia would come at once
to London, and the house in Piccadilly would lie
got ready for the opening of Parliament. It
would bo complimentary if she went down with
him to Englebury, and called on one or two peo-
ple whose acquaintance he had made down there.
Surely she would be glad to welcome him after
Ills notable victory ?

But what was his surprise and chagrin to find
that Lady Sylvia's congratulations were of a dis-
tinctly formal and correct character, and that she
did not at all cuter into Lis plans fur leaving The
Liiac^i.

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

" Why, Sylvia," said he, " surely you don't liate
Eiigk'bury Himply because you disliked the Ciior-
li'vs y Choi'ley has been my sworn enemy all
throiifrh this fight, and I hav 'inote him hi;' and
tiiiKh."

" I scarcely remember any thing about the
Chorleys," she said, indifferently.

"But why would you rather live down here?"
said he, in amazement.

" You know you will be every night at the
House," she siiid.

"Not more than other members," he remon-
strated. ' 1 shall have three nights a week free."

" Anil then you will be going out among jieo-
ple who arc altogether strangers to me — wlio will
talk about things of which 1 know nothing."

"My dear eiiild," said he, "you don't mean to
say you iiiteiid to live down here all by yourself
Auring the tinu- Parliament is sitting? You will
go mad."

" I have told you before, Hugh," said she, " that
I can not leave papa while he is so poorly as he
is at present. You will have plenty of occupa-
tion and amusement in London without me; I
must remain here."

There was a flash of angry light in the deep-
set gray eyes.

"If you insist on remaining here," said he,
"bee.iMse yoin' father chooses to go pottering
fibimt afiv':- iliose rabbit.* — ''

Tli.'i\ III' c.ieeked himself. Had he not vowe I
to liiiiisi'lf again and again that he woulii l)e ten-
derly considerate to this gentlesouled creature
who hud r !aced the happiness of her life in his
hands ? Jf she had higher notions of duty than
he could very well understand, oiigiit he not at
least to respect them V

"Ah, well, Sylvia," said he, patting her on the
shoulder, "perhaps you are right. But I am
afraid you will find it very dull."

CHAPTER XXVL

THE CRISIS.

Things had indeed "come to a bonny eripus;"
and he was altogether unaware of it. lie was
Taguely conscious, it is true, that his nuirried life
was not tlie married life he had looked forward to ;
and be was sorry that Lady Sylvia should insist (ui
moping herself to death in that solitary house in
Surrey. Hut then if her sense of diity to her ail-
ing fatliei' dennnded tin- saentice, he could not
interfere; and there was some compensation for
her in the beauty of the sunnner nu)nths that
were now filliny; hec garden wilh flowers. As
for liiniself, he lei no op|iortuuity slip of pav-
ing her small and khidly attentions, ile wrote
to hei every day. When he happened to have
an idle for(!noon, he woidd stroll into Christie's
atui buy some knickkn.iek for her. Lady Sylvia
had never haci the elm nee of gratifying tier woni-
anlv |)i!ssion foi' old eiiiua; but now thiit Halfoui'
had (lisi overed her wciikness for such things, she
had them in abundance. Now it w.-is a Dresden
milk jiii:, now a couple (d" Creil plates, again a
Sevres jurdini{>re, thin was sent as a little token
of remembrance ; w- ie he scarcely ever went
dow nn Saturday nioi mng without carrying with
him t-'-...^- similar bit of frail treasure, glad that
he knew of something ihat would interest her.

In the mean time he was intensely busy with his
Parliamentary work ; for, not having been in oftiw,
and liavingno hope of ofKi'e, the tremendous over,
throw of his party at the general election had in
! no way damped his eager energy.

When the blow fell, it fouiul him quite unprc.
' pared. One afternoon he received a telegram
from his wife asking him if he could go down thai
' evening. It was a most unusual sununons; for
she was scrupulously earefid not to interfere with
his Parliamentary duties; but of eotn-se he im.
mediately hastened down to The Lilacs. He was
more sm'prised than alarmed.

Ht.' went into the drawing-room, and found his
wife standing there, alone. The light of the sum.
iner evening was somewhat dimmed by the multj.
tudc of leaves about the vei mda; but his fii'st
gianee told him that she w;i-. deadly pale, and he
saw that she was app.acntlv -' ■ oriing herself
by the one hand that eaughtth. .e cd'the tahlo
" Svlvia," said he, in dismav, " » :iat is the mat.
, ter?"'

" I am sorry to have troubled you to cnine

()nwn," she said,, in a voice that was strangelv

! calm, "but I could bear this no loi'ger. 1 think

j it is better that we two should sepa.ate."

He did iu)t (piite understand at first; he only
felt a little cold about the heart. The next nin-
i ment she would have fallen backward had he mn
I caught her; but she ((uiekly recovered h' • If,
' and then gently put his hainis away from her.
j "Sylvia," said he again, "what is the matter
' with you V"

He s;;i ,!■ 1 at the white face as if it were that
of a iiKidv.oman.

" 1 mean what I say, Hugh," sheanswcred. "I
have thought it over lor monihs back. It is no
, hasty wish or lesolve.'

"Sylvia, \oii must lie out of your senses," lie
exclaimed. "To separate! Why? For what
reason ? Is it any tiling that I have done?"

He wished to take her hand; she withdrew a
■step.

" The sooner this pain is over, the better for
both of us," she said ; and again the treii. 'i
hand stnight the support of the table. " We ii
tieen separated — we are .separated now — except iii
name. Oin- married life has beCn a mistake. I
do not think it is either your fault or mine ; Imt
the punishment is more than I can bear. I can
not any longer suffer this — this pretense. Let iia
separate. We shall both b > free to live our own
livi's, without [>retending to the world to be what
we are not — "

■ My darling!" he exclaimed ; but somehow tlie
warmth of his protest was chilled by that impas-
sive demeanor: it was no outburst of temper that
had summoned him down from London. " Syl-
via ! why won't you tell me your reasons? What
is it you want altered ? 1 have tried in every way
tc niiilic your life just as you wisliei' it — "

" 1 know yon have," she said ; " 'im have been
Uiinlness itself. Hut it is not a thins to be rca-
siiiu'd about. If you do n<it know already how
far we are apart, how can ! tdi ynn ? We ought
never to have married VV'e have not a single
thought or feeling, a sresle npinion, occupation,
or interest, in comnim I h-.'.vv tried to bear it —
tiud knows how i h^ive Tied, night and day, to
school myself into lieiievetc tthat it was only the
natural way of the world I i-»n not believe it;
I can not belicTe that anv other woman has suf-

Iv liusy with lii?
iiftlieeii in oHiw,
remendous over-
1 election hail in

lini quite unpre-
ived a telegiam
iild go down tiiai
siminions ; for
to intei'feie with
if course he ini.
Lilacs. lie was

n, and found his
lifjht of the siuii.
Ksi bv the nnihi.
ill ; but his lirsi
idly pale, and lie
'ivliiii: liersflf
.■(ifthetalilo.
nat is the mat-
ed you to cnine
it was straiifroly
loiv^er. 1 think
pa.ute."
It first; he only
. The next mo-
ward had he not
covered h' -if,
vay from lier.
at is the matter

? if it were that

10 answered. "I
i back. It is no

your senses," he
liy? For what
iiave done?"
she withdrew a

ir, the bettn for
in tlie trciii 12
iible. "Well.
I now — except m
in a mistake. I
dt or mine ; Imt
2an bear. I cm
retense. Let us
i to live our own
vorld to be what

but pomehow tl)e
d l)y that inipa:*-
St of temper that
London. '' Syl-
reasons? What
•led ill cvtiy way
di(" it — "
" lou have been
thing to be rca-
ow already how
iiu? Weoupht
ive not n sinfrle
iiion, occupation,
ried to bear it—
ijrht and day, to
; it was only the
I not believe it;
woman has suf-

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

fered what I have sntfered, and now I must speak.
Your life is in your work. I am only an incuin-
hrance to you — a something apart from yourself
and your interests, tliat denuinds attentions which
uie paid by you as a duty. I wish to release you,
and to release myself from a life of hypocrisy
which I can not any longer bear. Have I said
iiMiugh V"

He stood for a moment or two absolutely si-
loiit : he never forgot those moments during his
life.

" You have said enough," he answered, calmly ;
and then he absently turned to the window. Tlie
daylight was going; the hush of the evening had
fallen over the birds; there was not a leaf stir-
ring. " Yes, you have said enough. You can
nut expect me to answer what you have said, at
(ince. Apparently )'ou have been thinking about
ii lor some time. I must think about it too."

lie took up his hat, which he had mechanically
placed on the table beside him, and passed out
inii) the garden. His face had a strange gray
liMiIv on it; the eyes were sunken and tired.
i'ldliably he himself scarcely knew that he open-
cil the great wooden gate, went out into the road,
liiiil then by-and-by chose a familiar path across
till' fields, where he was not likely to meet any
(iiif. He did iu)t seem to care whither his wan-
iif.ing steps led him. His head was bent down,
ami at first he walked slowly, with the gait of
line who was infirm or ailing ; but presently he
i|iiickened his pace, his maimer became more
iitivous and excited, occasionally he uttered u
Hiiid as if he were addressing some one in an ini-
aiiiiiary conversation.

The woods grew darker; the first stars came
out. Far awiiv thiie was tlie sound of a cart
liriiig driven lioiiie in the du.-k ; but all around
hliii was still.

Then he came to a stone bridge over a small
river; aiul here he paused for a time, leaning bis
iiiiiis <m the parapet, and staring down — without
H'ciiig aiiv tiling — at the black water. How could
iie see any thing? For the first time since he
liail reached manhood's estate In- was crviiig bit-
terly.

He was now a good many miles from home;
liiit his wanderings iiad lirought him no relief.
It was all a nivstery to him; lie knew not what
111 do. How could he move by any piteous ap
I'ral that eold re.solve? It was no mere whim
or fancy he bad to ileal with, but something at
iiiiee sTnuig and siilitle, a conviction of slow
growth, i ptapose that desinri- liad rendered iii-
tiexible. But the origin of it V His brain refused
to act; lie irond-"''ed wliether lie too were going
mad.

Now a short disiauee from this river there
-iitwl .1 houHe tluiit lie knew ; and as he ainilesslv
IwBMj tf) wfraee his xfeps, he [mssed the gate.
There »as a light burning in one of the rooms;
the window was open ; he heard a faint sound of
music. Suddenly it occurred to him : Surely Lady
Sylvia, before she had come to this terrible re-
Holve, must have spoken, in however indirect a
fashion, of her manner of life, to some sympa-
thetic woiTian friend; and to whom more likely
than this kind person for whom she had profess-
ed so great an admiration and love? tl<^ went
nearer to the house ; she was alone in the room,
playing some sufficiently sorrowful melody to
'herself. In his desperation and bewilderment,

he determined that he would demand the counsel
of this kind friend, who would at least under-
stand a woman's nature, even sujiposing that she
was not in Lady Sylvia's eontideiiee. He was too
anxious and perturbed to think twice. He en-
tered the house, was at once shown into the
drawing-room, and there and then told the whole
story to his startled listener.

And it was with a meat interest and sympathy
that she heard the story, for she could not fail
to observe that once or twice tears started to the
young man's eyes as he tried to find some excuse
in his own conduct for Lady Sylvia's resolve;
and, moreover, she had a great liking for the
young wife whose griefs and troubles had just
been revealed to her. But what was the young
man's surpri.se to find that this gentle and kindly
lady, as he hurriedly told his brief story, began
to grow monstrously angrv, and when he had fin-
ished was quite wrathful and indignant. There
were no tears in her eyes ; but there were tears
in her voice — of proud and pathetic remonstrance.

" The cause of it !" she exclaimed, with the beau-
tiful dark eyes, it must be owned, a trifle moist.
" If she had some real .sorrow to think of, she
would have no room in her head for these morbid
notions. Look at the other young wife who is our
neighbor — my greatest friend and companion —
who has bravely made up her mind to go and live
for a whole year in America without those young
children that are the very life of her life. That
is a trial, that is a sorrow that demands some
sympathy ; and if Lady Sylvia had some real grief
of that kind to undergo, depend on it she would
not be torturing herself and you with her imag-
inary disappointments. Her disapjiointments!
W hat is the truth ? She is too well off. She has
been too carefully kept aside from any knowledge
of the real misery that is in the world. Her no-
tion of human life is that it should become just
what every body wants it to be. And her euro
for her fancied troubles is separation from her
husband ? Very well. Let her try it."

And here, of course, she did cry a bif, as a wom-
an must; but Balfour did not at all resent her
angry vehemence, although it was far from com-
pliineiitary to his young and unhappy wife.

" Yes," said she, with a passionate indignation,
" let her try it. You can not argue her out of
lii-r folly ; let her have her will. Oh, I know the
dreams that young girls have — and that is her
excuse, that she has never known what life is. It
is to be all rose-color. Well, let her try her own
remedy. Perhaps she would like to see what real
trouble is : a young mot'.er tearing herself away
from her children, and gi ing to a distant country,
where she can not hear lor weeks if one of them
were to die. I can tell ; on, if she came with us,
it might be possilile to diow her something of
what human beings have really to suffer in this
world — the parting of emigrants from their home
and their kindred, the heart-breaking fight for
money — "

" But why should she not go with you ?" he
said, eagerly. " Do you mean that you are going
with the Von Rosens ?"

She paused ; and the nimble wit within the
beautiful little head was busy with its quick im-
aginings. She had not thought of this as a prac-
tical proposal when she held it out as a wild
threat. But why not — why not? This woman
was velK-'ineiit in her friendships when they were

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

once fornied. What woiilil slie not do to purge
the mind of this young wife of fancies begotten
of indolence and too good fortune '! Tiiere was
sonic color in her face. Her breath came and
went a trifle (|uickly.

" Why not, to be sure V" said she ; and she re-
garded the young man with a strange compassion
in her eyes. " 1 do thinU if you trusted her to us
for a time — if she would go with us — we could do
her some good. I think we could show her some
things. I think she might he glad enough to al-
ter her decision — yes, glad enough."

" But a year is a long time," said he, staring ab-
sently at the open window and the black night
and the stars outside.

" Hut we are not going for a year," said she;
and it was clear that now she was most anxious to
attempt this soul-cure. " We are only going to
accompany our friends on their outward trip, and
see them cond'ortaljly settled — comfortably, in-
deed ! when that poor girl has to leave her ciiil-
dren behind ! If there was any righteousness in
the law, they would give her the land and the mon-
ey at once, and pay no attention to that ridicidous
will. Oh no, .Mr. IJaU'oui-, we shall only be going
for a three months' trip or so; but we shall see
niiiny tlii'igs in that time, ami I think I could
speak a little now and again to Lady Sylvia. Dis-
tance does a great deal. I don't think she will
i-c sorry when we turn and begin to get home
\vj.M\\ to England. 1 don't think you will ever
hear another word as long as you live about sep-
aration."

liis face had brightened wonderfully.

" Do you know what a great favor it is you are
oiTcring me V" he said.

" Oil no, not at all," said she, eagerly. " We
ait' going for a pleasure excursion. It is a mere
holiday. We shall have a sharp wrench when
wx' hid good-l)y to the Von Kosens, but Lady !^yl-
via will have nothing to do with that. And she
will see ])lenty to amuse her, and the cliiinge will
do her health good."

Well, this young man was gratefii! ei.ough t<i
her; but he was not at all av.aii' of wliat she
hat. Jone for his sake. What hail become of all
those pet theories of hers about the false ideals
formed before marriage, and of the inevitable
disappointment on the discovery of the truth aft-
er nuirriage? This — if the hnndliatiiig confes-
sion must be made to the indulgent reader — was
the idi'litieal Surrey ))rophetess and seer who used
to go about telling us that nearly every body who
was married was wretched. The man had dow-
eied his sweetheart wilii iiualitii'S she never pos-
sessed ; after marriage he learned the nature of
the woman who was to be his life companion,
and never cca.-ed to look back with an iulinite
loiitiing and sadness to that iuiaginary woman
wiiii whom he hiui fallen in love. The girl, on
the other hand, married her lover with the no-
tion that he was to be always heroic and luu-
lovi'r; when lis she woke up to fuid that she had
only rniiiried a husband, who rejiarded hei' luit
as life itscll', but as only one of tiie fuets (d' life.
These \\ e knew to be lier pet theories. When
this yoHU'^ man came to tell her of his troubles,
why did not this Fran I'hilosophin, as we called
her, fall back on her favorite theories, as afford-
ing all the explanation that he needed y The
fact is — though it re(pnres a good deal of cour-
age to put ihe words down — the heart of this

person was much more trustworthy than her
head. It was a very lovable and loving lieurt,
answering quickly to any demand for sympathy,
and most firmly tenacious of friendships. When
she was told that Lady Sylvia was in trouble-
when she saw that this young husband was in
tiouble — her iiddle-stick theories went to the
wimls, and her true woman's heart gave prompt
and sure answer. She was a little nettled and
indignant, it is true, for she had had, for some
evenings before, mysterious fits of crying in qui-
et corners of the house over this journey we were
about to undertake ; but her indignation had only
made her frank, and she had spoken bravely and
honestly to Hugh Balfour. Yes, he had more to
thank her for than he imagined, though his grat-
itude was quite sufficiently sincere and warmly
expressed.

The tender-hearted little woman hehl his hand
for a moment at the door.

" I shall not speak a word of this to any hu-
man being," said she — just as if she had no hiis.
band to whom she had sworn allegiance — "until
you tell me that I may, and then 1 hope to hear
rhat Lady Sylvia has accepted my offer. Don't
argue with her; you nnght drive her into a sort
of verbal obstiiuicy. Don't ask her to change
her decision ; she has not come to it without
much heart-rending, and she can not be expected
to abandon it for the sake of a few sentences.
Accept it ; the cure will be more permanent."

"Thank you, and God bless you!" said he;
and then he disappeared in the night.

"What if she should object V" lie asked him-
self, as he hurried on through the darkness, liiii
only guidance buing from the stars. He had been
so stunned and bewildered by ilie announccmciU
of her resolve that he had never even thought of
what she would do further — whether she would
prefer to go back to Willowby Hall, or to remaiu
in sole possession of The Lilacs. Either alterna-
tive seemed to him to lie a sulliciently strange
ending to the dreams that these two had dreamed
togi'ther as they walked on that lonely terrace
of a sunnner night, listening for the first notes
of the nightingale, and watching the nnirshaliiiji
of the innumerable hosts of heaven. To go back
to her father: to be left alone in that Surrey cot-
tage.

He found her in the same room, calm and ap-
parently self-possessed; but he saw from her
eyes that she liad given way to passionate grief
in his ab.-ionce.

"Sylvia," said he, "if I thought you had sent
for me from any hasty impulse, I should ask you
to let me rea.-^on with you. 1 see it is not so.
You have made up your mind, and I must respect
your wish. Hut I don't want to have any public
scandal attaching either to your name or nnne;
and 1 believe — wiiether you believe it or not —
that you will repent that decision. Now I am

going to ask a favor of you. The s mean

to accompany their friends the Von Kosens to
their new home in .Vmerica, and will then return
— probably they will be away about three months.
They have been good enough to offer to take you
with them. Now, if you really believe that our
relations are altogether so wrong that nothing is
left but separation, will you consent to try three
months' separation first V I will not seek to con-
trol your actions in any way ; but I think this ii
reasonable."

rthy than her
1 loving heart,

for sympathy,
dships. When
IS in tioublu—
usband wus in
went to the
It gave prompt
tic nettled uiid

had, for suiiie
f crying in qui-
ourney we were
nation had only
[en bravely uiid
he had more to
hough his gi'ut-
re and warmly

n held his hand

this to any hu-

he had no hiis-

giiince — " until

I hope to hear

ly offer, Don't

her into a sort

her to change

to it without

not be expected

lew sentences.

permanent."

vou!" said he;

ight.

lie asked him-

ic darkness, \m

He had been

I' announcement

even thou^'ht of

'tlier she would

all, or to I'cmaiu

Either alternu-

liciently sfranire

wo had dreamed

t lonely terrace

r the first notes

the marshalini;;

en. To go back

that Surrey cot-

m, calm and ap-

saw from her

passionate gritff

ht you had sent
should ask you
ee it is not so.
il 1 must respect
luive any public
name or mine;
ieve it or not —
)n. Now I am

'lie s mc^ui

Von Rosens to
will then return
It three months,
ffer to take you
jelieve that our
that nothing is
cut to try three
lot seek to con-
1 1 think this it

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

The mention of her friend's name brought
nmc color to the pale, thoughtful, serious face,
ind her bosom heaved with her rapid breathing,
18 he put this proposal before her.

" Yes," she said, " I will do what you wish."

" And your father ?"

" I have not spoken to my father. I hope you
will not. It is unnecessary."

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE ISODARS.

It was an eager and an anxious time with our
women -folk, who began to study the weather
charts in the newspapers, and to draw from
thence the most dismal forebodings. The a:.
was full of isobars : we heard their awful tread.
Areas of low pressure were lying in wait for us;
the barometer curves assumed in imagination the
form of mountainous waves, luring us to our
doom. Aiid'iiien we had a hundred kind friends
writing to warn us against tliis line and tliat line,
until it hecaiui' quite clear that, as we were to be
drowned anyhow, it did not matter a brass far-
thing which line we selected. And you — you
most amiable of persons, who gave us that piece
of advice about choosing a stail)onrd berth — our
blessings on yo,i I It was an inp:eiiious specula-
tion. When two vessels meet in mid-Atlantic —
which they are ''onstantly doing, and at full speed
too- -it is well known that they are hound to jiort
their helm. Very well, aigiitd our sympathetic
adviser, porting tlie lielni will iiake your steain-
ei' sheer off to starboard, and ti:o other vessel, if
therr is to be a collision, will coii.e ciasiiing down
on the port side : hence take your Iterih on tlie
etai hoard side, for there you will be at least a
trilh' safrr. It was a grain of comfort.

Ihit there was one of us who feared none of
tlu'.^e things, and sl;e was to be tiie commander
an,l comptroller of the exiieditioii. She would
have faced a dozen of the d(iul)le-feathered ar-
rows that appeared in the weather charts. " Be-
ware the awful isobar!" we said to her. "Be-
ware the awful fiddle-sticks!" she flippantly an-
swered. And on the strength of her having done
a bit of yachting now and again, she used sol-
eaiiiiy to assure Lady Sylvia — on tlio.«c evenings
ehe spent with us tlien, talking about the prepa-
rations for the voyage — tiiat there was nothing so
deliglitful as life on the sea. The beautiful light
and changing color, the constant whirling by of
the water, the fresh breezes tingling on the
dieek — all tliese she described with her eyes
a;;low ; and the snug and comfortable evenings,
too, in the ruddy saloon, with the soft light of
the lamps, and cards, and laughter. Here ensued
a battle royal. The first cause of this projected
trip of ours was a dear friend and near neighbor
called Mrs. Von Rosen — though we may take the
lihiM'ty of calling her Bell in these pages — and in
the days of her maidenhood she onoe made one
of a party who drove from London to Edinburgh
by the old coach-road, stopping at the ancient
inns, and amusing themselves not a little bv the
way. This young lady now stoutly co'.itesied
that life in a yacht was nothing to life in a phae-
ton ; and for her part she declared there was
nothing half so bcmitiful as our sunny English
landscapes, fw i' ■ '-i the heart of the still

country, as one drove through them in the sweet
June days. It was the rude-.spoken German ex-
lieutenant who brought ridicule on this discus-
sion by suggesting that the two modes of travel-
ling might be combined ; apply to Father Nep-
tune, livervstttble keeper, Atlantic.

Lady Sylvia was indeed grateful to her kind
friend for all the attentions shown her at this
time. Of course it was as a mere pleasure-e.x-
cursion that we outsiders were permitted to speak
of this long journey by land and sea. We were
not supposed to know any thing of th.at cure of
a sick soul that our sovereign lady had under-
taken. Balfour was busy in Parliament Lady
Sylvia was very much alone, and she had not
been looking well of late. These her friends
happened to have to make tliis trip to America:
the opportunity of the double sea voyage and of
the brisk run through the continent on the other
side was not to be thrown awaj'. This was the
understood basis of the agreement. We were
not supposed to know that a coiirageows little
woman had resolved to restore the happiness of
two wedded lives by taking this poor petted
child and showing her the kingdoms of the earth,
and the hardship and misery of human life, and
what not. As for Lord Willowby, no one knows
to this day whellier that reticent peer suspected
any thing or not. He was kind enouuii to sny,
however, that he was sure his daughter was in
good hands, and sure, too, that she would enjoy
herself very much. He deeply regretted that he
could not ask to be allowed to join the party.
We deeply regretted that also. But we had to
conceal our grief. After all, it was necessary
his lordship should stay at home to keep down
the rabbits.

The command went forth — a p;oclamation from
the adminil-iii-ciiid' ot the expedition that all
ceremonies of leave-takir.g we:e to be performed
within-doors and at lioiiie, and that she would on
no account allow any friend or relative of any
one ofithe party to present hiuiself or herself at
Euston Square station, much less to go on with
us to Liverpool. She was very firm on this point,
and we guessed why. It was part of her never-
failing and anxious thouglitfulness and kindness.
She would have no formal parting between Bal-
four and his wife take place under the observa-
tion of alien eyes. When Lady Sylvia met us at
the station down in Surrey, 'he was alone. She
was pale and very nervous; but she preserved
much outward calmness, and professed to be
greatly pleased that at last we had fairly started.
Indeed, we had more compassion for the other
young wife who was with us — who was being torn
away from her two children and sent into banish-
ment in Colorado for a whole long year. Our
poor Bell could make no effort to control her
grief. The tears were running hard down her
face. She sat in a corner of the carriage, and
long after we had got away from any landmark
of our neighborhood that she knew, she was still
gazing southward ttirough these bewildering tears,
as if she expected to see, somewiiere over the
elms, in the ro.seate evening skj-, some glorified
reflection of her two darlings whom she was leav-
ing behind. Her husband said nothing, but he
looked more savage than ever. For the past
week, seeing his young wife so desperately dis-
tressed, he had been making use of the most aw-
ful language about Colonel Sloane and his flocks

GREEN PASTLUKS AND I'lCCADILLY.

and herda and ininea. The poor Colonel Imd done
his best. He Imd left his wealth to this girl Hini-
ply beuiiuse he fiineicd she knew less alioiit his
life than most of her other relatives, and might
cherish some little kindly feeling of gratitude to-
ward him. Instead of |mying for masses for his
soul, he only asked that tliis young nieue of his
should remember him. Well, there is no saying
what her subsequent feelings with regard to him
may have been, but in the mean time the feel-
ings of her husband were most pronouneed. If
he prayed for the soul of l''ive-Aee Jaek, it was
in ail odd sort of language.

The homeless look about that big hotel in Liv-
erpool ! th(! huge trunks, ol)viously Auieriean, in
the hall and round the doors ! the unsettled peo-
ple wandering around the rooms, all intent on
their own private seliemes and interests ! What
cure had they for the childless mother and the
widowed wile, who sat — a trille mute, no <loubt —
at our little dinner table, and who only from time
to time seemed to remember that they were starl-
ing away on a pleasure-excursion V Tiie manager
of the trip did her best to keep us all cheerfid,
and again and again referred to the great kind-
ness of the owners of our noble ship, who had
taken some little trouble in getting for us adja-
cent cabins.

The \n)\t day was hot and sultry, and when we
went down to the side of the river to have a look
at the ship that was to carry our various fortunes
across the Atlantic, we saw her through a vague
silvery haze that in no way diminislicd her size.
And, indeed, as she lay there out in mid-stream,
she seemed more like a floating town tlian a
steamer. The bulk of her seemed enormous. Here
and there were smaller craft — wherries, steam-
launches, tenders, and what not; and they seem-
ed like so many tlies hovering on the surface of
the water when they came near that majestic ship.
Our timid women-folk began to take courage.
They did not ask whether their berths were on
the starboard side. Tliey spoke no more •f col-
lisions. And as Queen T , as some of us call-
ed her, kept assuring them that their apprehen-
sions of seasickness wei'e entirely derived from
their experiences on board the wretched and de-
testable little Chamiel boats, and that it was quite
impossible for any reasonable Christian person to
think of illness in the clean, bright, beautiful sa-
loons and cabins of a tirst-class transatlantic
steamer, they plucked up their spirits somewhat,
and did not sigii more than twice a minute.

It was about three in the afternoon that we
stepped on board the tender. There was a good
deal of cerebral excitement abroad among the
small crowd. People stared at each other in a
nervous, eager manner, apparently trying to guess
what had brought each other to such a pass. Leav-
ing out of view the cheery commercial traveller,
who was making facetious jokes and exchanging
pocket-knives and pencils with his friends, there
was scarcely a face on board that did not sug-
gest some bit of a story, and often that seemed
to be tragic enough. There was a good deal of
covert erymg. And there was a good deal of bois-
terous racket in our quarter, chiefly proceeding
from our yotmg German friend, who was deter-
mined to distract the attention of his wife and of
her gentle companion from this prevailing emo-
tional business, and could think of no better plan
than pretending to be angry over certain charges

in the hotel bill, the delay in starting the tender
; olT, and a dozen other ridiculous trifles.
j Then we climlied up the gangway, and reaclied
, the deck of the noble and stately ship, passing
along the row of the stewards, nil mustered up in
' their smart uniforms, until i' made our way into
I the great saloon, which wii > a blaze of crimsou
cloth and shiriing gold and crystal.

"And this is how they cross the Atlantic!" ex-
claimed Queen T , who treasured revengeful

feelings against the Channel steamers.

But that was nothing to her surprise when we
reached our three cabins, which wc fouiul at tlie
end of a small corridor. The yellow sunlight —
yellowed by tiie haze hanging over the Mersey-
was shining in on the brightly painted wood, liio
polished brass, the clean little curtains of the
berths; and altogether showed that, whatever
weather we might liave in cro*<ing, nothing wm
wanting to insure our comfort — not even an elec-
tric bell to each berth — so far as these snug and
bright little eal)ins were concerned. Von Kusen
was most anxious that wo should continue om- ex-
plorations of these our new homes. He was most
anxious that we siiould at once begin unpaeklM!;
the contents of our smaller bags and plju'ln;^
them in oi'der in our respective cabins, Wliul
had we to do on deck ? We had no relatives w
friends to show over the ship. Tliere was notli-
ing but a crowd up there — staring all over tlie
place. We ought to nuike those preparations at
once; .so that we should have plenty of time suh-
se((Uently to secure from the purser good seats at
tiie dinner table, which should remain ours dur-
ing tlie voyage.

A loud bell rang u|) on deck.
"Confound it!" cried the lieutenant, as if he
would try to drown the noise with his own voice.
" i have brought my latch-key with me ! What
do I want with a latch-key in America V"

But when that bell rang, our Queen T turn-
ed — just for a moment — a tiille pale.
I " Lady Sylvia," said she, " would you not like to
; go up on deck to see tlie ship get up her anchor!'"
i We knew why she wanted the young wife to
go on deck, and were inwardly indignant tha,
' tlie poor thing should be sulijected to this gratu-
itous cruelty. Was she not suffering enough her-
self, that she should be made the spectator of the
sutTerings of others"/ But she meekly assented,
and we followed too.

It was a strange scene that this crowd on deck
; presented, now that the ringing of another bell
had caused a good many of the friends and rela-
tives of passengers to leave the large ship and
take their stand on the paddle-boxes of the tend-
er. At first sight it seemed rather a merry ami
1 noisy crowd. Mcs.sages were being called out
from the one vessel to the other; ecpially loud
i jokes were being bandied ; missiles, which turii-
I ed out to be keepsakes, were being freely hurled
! through the air, and more or less deftly caught.
I But this was not the aspect of the crowd that
I the monitress of Lady Sylvia wished to put be-
i fore her eyes. There were other ceremonies go-
ing on. The mute hand-shake, the last look, the
one convulsive tremor that stopped a flood of
tears with a heart-breaking sob — these were vis-
ible enough. And shall we ever forget the dazed
look in the face of that old man with the silvery
hair as he turned away from bidding good-by to
a young woman, appccntiy his daughter? He

GUEEX PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

7»

rtint;; tlto tcudet

tritles.

Hy, aiiU reaulicNl

\y sliip, ])as.siiig

niustt'rt'il lip ill
idf our way into
laze of oriiiisou
il.

It' Atlantic !"px-
iired rovt'iigol'ul
iiiers.

irpviso when we
vvf foiinil at till'
■llow suiilii^ht—
LT the Mersey —
liiited wood, tin;
eiirtaiiis of the

tiiat, whatever
ni;^, iiotliiiij; was
lot even an elec-

these siiii"; and
'd. Von Kosen
eontinne our ex-
s. ile was most
)ef;in unpuekiiii,'
ij;s aiul plueini;

eahins. Wluit
1 no relatives or
ri'.ere was notli-
iuf; all over tlie

preparations at
Illy of time suli-
'vv jrood seats at
einain ours dur-

[tenant, as if he
1 his own voiee.
ith me! What

■ turn-

•en T-
ale.

d you not like to
) her anchor!'"
youiifc wife to
ndi};nant tlia>
il to this f^ratu-
iij; enouj^h her-
peetator of the
eekly assented,

crowd on dock
of another bell
lends and rela-
lai'^e ship and
ses of the tend-
er a merry and
ing called out
; equally loud
es, which turn-
n; freely hurled
deftly caught,
the crowd that
lied to put be-
eeren 101 lies go-
e last look, the
ped a flood of
tliese were vis-
jrget the dazed
rith the silvery
ing good-by to
aughter ? He

did not seem quite to understand what he was
doing. One of the officers assisted him by the
iirni as ho stepped on to the gangway ; he looked
at him in u vague way, and said, "Thank yoii —
thank you. (Jood-by," to him. Then there was
a middle-aged man with u bit of black cloth
round his hat. Hut why should one recall these
nmiiieiits of extreme human misery V If it was
iiut'cssary that Lady Sylvia should drink this bit-
ter draught — it it was necessary that she should
Iwve pointed out to her something of what real
and di'tinite sorrows and agonies have to be borne
ill life — why should these things be put before
any one else V The ease of Lady Sylvia, as every
woman must perceive, was ((uito exceptional. Is
it lor a moment to be admitted that there could
lie in England any other woman, or, let us say,
any small number of other women, who, being
far too fortunately cireumstanced, must needs
funstriiet for themselves wholly imaginary giiev-
aiu'cs and purely monomania"' d wrongs, to the
distress e(nially of themselves and their friends V
TIk' present writer, at all events, shrinks from
the responsibility of putting forward a;." such
iill('s.'iilion. Ile never heard of any such women.
Laily Sylvia was Lady Sylvia ; and if she was ex-
ci'litionally foolish, she was undergoing exception-
al iiunishment.

Indeed, she was crying very bitterly, in a
stcahliy way, as the great ship cm which we
stood began to move slowly and majestically
down the river. TIk- small and noisy tender had
steamed back to the wharf, its occupants giving
us many a farewell cheer so long as we were
within ear-shot And now we glideil on through
it thick and thundery haze that gave a red and
lurid tinge to the coast we were leaving. There
Wiis a talk about dinner; but surely \>e were to
he allowed time to bid good-by to England?
Farewell I farewell ! The words were secretly
uttered by many an aching heart.

It was far from being a joyful fea.it, that din-
ner, though Von Rosen talked a great deal, and
was loud in his praises of every thing — of the
quick, diligent service and pleasant demeanor of
the stewards, of the (piality of the hock, and the
profusion of the carte. The vehement young
man had been all over the ship, and seemed to
know half the people on board already.

"Oh, the captain !" said he. " He is a famous
fellow — a tine fellow — his name is Thompson.
And the purser, too, Evans — he is a capital fel-
low ; Imt he is in twenty places at once. Oh, do
you know, Lady Sylvia, what the officers call their
.servant who waits on them V"

Lady Sylvia only looked her intpiiry : the pale,
beautiful face was dazed with grief.

" Mosquito I — I suppose because he plagues
them. And you can have cold baths — salt-wa-
ter — every morning. And there will be a eon-
cert, in a few evenings, for the Liverpool Sea-
man's Home. — Bell, von will sing for the con-
cert?"

And so the young man rattled on, doing his
best to keep the women-folk from thinking of
the homes they were leaving behind. But how
cool I they help thinking, when we got up on
deck after dinner, and stood in the gathering
dusk ? England had gone away from us alto-
gether. There was nothing around us but the
ushing water, leaden -hued, with no trace of
phosphoresjcnt tire in it ; and the skies overhead

were dismal enough. We staid on deck late that
night, talking to each other— about every thing
except England.

CHAPTER XXVIIL

Tllli LAST LOOK.

All around us the great unbroken circle of the
sea, overhead the jialer color of the morning sky,
and this huge lloating palace of 151)0 tons crash-
ing its way through the rolling waves of a heavy
ground-swell — that was what we found when we
stepped out on to the white and sun-lit deck.

" What cheer, Madame toliiiiibus ? .\nd how
goes the log?" cried the lieutenant, making liiii
appearance at the top of the eompaiiionway.

Madame Cohimbus had been uj) betimes — in
order to make sure of her bath — and was now en-
gaged in private eoiiversatiou with Liidy Sylvia.

" We are a point west by north of iSen .Nevis,"
she answered, i)romptly, " but the Irish coast is
not yet in sight."

Tlie latter half of her statement was true, any-
how ; there was not evi'ii the faint cloud of au
island visible all around the dark blue h<u-izon.
And so we set out on oar march up and down the
deck, which hud been strieily enjoined upon us by
our admiral-in-ciiief, but which was oecasioiiallT
interfeii'il with by a iuich that sent this or that
coupie living toward the hand-rail. Ami we were
all full of our new experiences; of the strange
sensation of phiiiiiing through the night at this
terrible speed, of the remarkiilile ease v.iili which
articles could be taken out of portniaiilciu-, aii.l
of the absolute impossibility of getting theiu put
in again so as to secure something li!ie order in
our respective cabins. It was a brilliant morn-
ing, with a fresh and delightful brei'Ze; but so
blue was the sky, and so blue was the sea, that
the eyes, becoming accustomed to this intense i)lue,
saw every thing on board the ship as of a glow-
ing brown or red, while the huimin faces we look-
ed at in passing were simply a blaze of crimson.
Then we went below to breakfast, and instituted
a sort of formal acquaintance with two or throe
folks who had been, the previous evening at din-
ner, absolute strangers to us.

That forenoon, as we sat on deck with our books,
which were seldom looked at, we eonhl not under-
stand why Queen T was so fiercely opposed

to our going ashore at Queenstown for an hour or
two. As the pale line of coast now visible on the
hotizon came nearer and more near, she seemed
to regard both Ireland and the Irish with great
disfavor, though we knew very well that ordinarily
she had a quite remarkable affection for both.

" What is Queenstown ?"sai(l she. " A squalid
little phiee, filled with beggars and trades-people
that prey on the ignorance of Americans. They
give you baskets of fruit, with brown paper filling
up half. They charge you — "

" Why, yon have never been there in your life !"
exclaimed our Bell, with staring eyes.

" But I know, all the same 1" was the retort.
" Haven't Americans told me again and again of
their first experiences of Irish hospitality ? And
what is the use of being at all that trouble of go-
ing ashore to look at a miserable little town ?"

" Madame," said the lieutenant, with a loud
laugh, " I do think you are afraid we will not come
buck if we ouce are on the land. Do you think

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

'^<

we will run away ? And the company — will they
give uf hack our passage-money ?"

Sliu I'clapned into a proud and indignant silence ;
we know iiot how Qiieenstown had managed so
grievo'iniy to offend lier.

And now wo drew near the point at which we
were to bid a real farewell to our native land ;
and as we slowly glided into the broad, bright
bay, Queenstown gave us an Irish welcome of
laughter shining through tears, of sunlight strug-
gling through Heecy clouds of rain, and lighting
up the beautiful green sliorcs. TIhtc was a beau-
tiful green, too, in the water of the bay, which
was rippled over by a liiilii westerly breeze. Well,
we reniaiued on Iki.imI, iiltor all. We were in-
formed by our ailuiiriiliii-ehief that now, when
the ship was almost empty, and certainly still,
was an excellent opportunity for setting our cab-
ins to rights, and putting away every tiling we
should not re(|iiii'e on the voyage. What was
tlien.' to SIT l)y lemainiug on deck V A (piiet bay,
a gi\'in shore, and some white houses — that was
all. Those of us who rebelled, anil iu.-.isted on
rcmaiiiinj; on deck, she treateil with silent scorn,
i^lie was successful, at least, in carrying Luily .Syl-
via wiih ler below.

And yet it must be confessed that we were nil
of us glad to get away from (jueenstown. We
wishcil to feel that we had really started. Wast-
ing time in waiting for mails is not an exciting
occu|iation, at (^ucenstown or elsewhere. When,
thercl'(ir(>, the tender came out from the shore,
and iliscliarged her human and otluu' cargo, and
when the order was given to let go the gangway,
we were glad encuigh — all ol' us, perhaps, except
one ; for w hat iiieaut that slight exclamation, and
the inadvertent step foi ward, as this last means
of eoMMMUuieation was withdrawn V But there was
a fricii.'ly hand on ln'r arm. The child looked on
in mute despair as the great vessel began to move
through the water. There was a good deal of
clieeiing as we now, and finally, set out on our
voyage; she did not s< em to hear it.

And now we were ,)ut on the Atlantic, the land
gradually receding f.im sigiit, the great ship forg-
ing ahead at full ■■pC'd ihiough the rnsinng waves,
the golden ,";'.>ry of tlie afternoon shining on her
tall masts. They were getting out some sail* too ;
and as the string of men were liauling up the
heavy gaff of the nii/.zen try-sail, one tall fellow,
the leader of the choir, was singing so that all
could hear,

"Oh, it's Union Square as I ctianced for to pass,
Yo, heave, ho !
Oh, it's tliere I met a bonniu young lass:"

while the idiotic refrain,

"Give a man time to roll a man down,"
Bounded musically enough with its accompani-
ment of ii;',pning canvas and rushing waves. And
there were rcpc-tpioits got out, too, and the more
energetic slif/vol-board ; while those who scorned
Buch vain delights were briskly promenading the
deck with an eye to dinner. And then, at din-
ner, the sudden cry that made every one start up
from the table and crowd round the nearest port-
hole to look out on that extraordinary sunset —
the sea a plain of dark ami rich purple, almost
hard in its outline against the sky; the sky a
pure, dazzling breadtli of green — a sort of olive
green, but so dazzling and clear that it burned
itself into the memory, and will forever remain
there — with a few lines of still more lambent

Rold barred across the wc«t. That flro of color
had blinded all eyes. When we returned to our
seats we could Hcarccly hoc each other.

" What n beautiful night we shall Inivc !" said
Lady Sylvia, who was doing her best to be very
bravo and cheerful — because, you see, it was our
common duty, she considered, to cheer up tlio
spirits of the young mother who had left her two
children behind her—" and what a pity it is, my
dear Mrs. Von Kosen, that you did not bring your
guitar with you ! Half of the charm of the vov.
age will be lost. And you know it will be niooii.
light tonight— you might have sung to us."

" I am like Mrs. S 's little girl," said our

Bell, " whom they used to bother so before visit,
ors. She said, one day, in the most pathellc
voice, ' I wish I didn't know no songs: and llu'u
I shouldn't have to sing none.' But the guitar
has been |>ut away lor a long tithe now. That
l)elongc(l to llie days <d' romance. Do you know
any Scolch songs, |,ady Sylvia V I have goiio
mad about them lati'ly."

" I believe it was once renuirked of you. Bell,"
says one of us, " that your I cart was like a mai;.
nelized neeille, always turning toward the nortli.
But what we want to know is where you are ga-
ing to slop. Cumberland liallads used to lie
enough lor you; then you got to the Borders;
then to the Lowlands; and now you are doulit-
less among the clans. Docs a. / body know if
there are stirring lunes in Iceland, or any ]'ol/:x.
Ihdcv to be picked up alimit the luirll) pole?
Nevei'lheless, we will lake w hat you like to give
us. We will pardon the aliseiiee of tiie giiita;'.
WluMi the moon comes out, we will take up tlio
rugs on deck, ami get into a nice shadowy enr-
ner, and — and what, is that about 'Above — "below
—all's wellV"

" We are indeed well off," says our grave mon-
itrcss, "that we have nolliing to thiidi aliout bat
i..>onliglit and singing. What I am thankful for
is t lat the clear night will lessen the chances of
our running down any unfortunate snnill vessel.
Ah ! you don't know, Lady i^ylvia, how often tliat
ha()pin;-< — and nobody ever hears of it A huge
ship like this would simply cut down one of these
smaller vessels to the water's edge and go dean
over her. And of course the greatest danger of
our doing so is near land. Think of the poor
men, after being months at sea, perhaps, aihl
within a day or set of meeting their wives and
families again, finding this huge monster crash-
ing dowu'on them! I trcmblu when I hear peo-
ple speak (d' the vessels anchored on the New-
foundland Banks, and the fogs there, and the
great steamers going on through the night. A
collision is nothing to us — I suppose we should
scarcely feel any shock at all — but it is certain
death ',o the unhappy wretches who are out there
at the tishing. Well, it is part of the risk of their
calling. Tliey have to support their families some-
how; and I suppose tlieir wives know each time
they leave the land that they may never be heard
of again. I wonder whether these poor men ever
think that they are hardly used in life. No doubt
they would |)refer to belong to a fine club ; and
their wives would like to drive about in carriages.
But I sui)posc they have their compensations.
The home-coming must be pleasant enough."

" But do wo go riglit on through a fog, all tlie
samef" asked our Bell, in some alarm.

" At a reduced speed, certainly ; and people

.Viid won't
iircst V "

It was quit
»v voice tha
nous, melan
bout the boi
er lai.», the <
'e." VV!\y s
id of evii 01

imtic 1

lat fire of color
returned to our
)ther,

mil liiivc !" Hdid
best to bo very
see, it was our
» cheer up tlio
uid left her two
a pity it is, my
not bring your
ivm of the voy.
it will be moon,
iiig to us."
fjirl," said our
so before visit-
most piltlU'lif

lings : and tlu'ii

lidt the guitar

me now. Tlint

Do you kiiow

i Imve gone

'd of yo\i, Boll,"
ivii.s like u nini;-
wiini tliv! noitli.
lere you inv {.m
ids use, I to 1)0
to the Hordei's;
you lire doiilii-
■ body know if
d, or any JV/.<-
lie north pole?
you like to give
(' of the guitiiv.
iviil take up tlio
X' i-hiulowy e(ir-
Above — below

GREEN TASTUUEK AND PICCAUILLY.

our grave nion-
tliiidi about but
iim thankful for
the ehanees of
te small vessel.
how often tliiit
of it A huj,v
wn one of these
;e ttud go eleaii
atest danger of
nk of the poor
, perhaps, aiiil
heir wives ntiJ
monster crash-
hen 1 hear peo-
d on the New-
there, and the
the night. A,
pose we shoulil
lit it is certain
10 are out there
the risk of their
r families sonic-
know each time
never be liearJ
! poor men ever
life. No doubt
fine club; and
lut in carriages,
compensations,
nt enough."
;h a fog, all tlK
farm,
ly; and people

luy that the booming of the foghorn at night la
one of the most horrid sounds in the world."

You never thought of that danger, Lady Syl-
via," said Bell, with a smile, " when your — when
Mi: Balfour and you used to speak (>i' going round
ilie world in a steam-yaeht. By-tiie-way, I sup-
piisc that steani-yaeht that came out with us has
:i)t back to yueenstown by this time."

yueen T glanced quickly and nervously at

hrr.

" I hope so," said Lady Sylvia. " It was very
friendly of the people to escort us n bit on our
»iiy. I suppose they knew some one on ftoard.
I'liit I did not see any one waving a good-by to
llioiii when they left."

" Oh," said (jiieen T , carelessly, " I have no

Joiibt they only eaine out for a run."

When we went on deck we found the last glow
if the twilight fadinir out of the iiorthweslern
kits. We were all alone on the iiioviii;.; world
)f waters, the liugi^ iiu'tallie-luicd waves break-
over in iiiiisseH of white foiiiii that wer(! elear-
y visible in the semi-darkness. Ihit by this time
w had grown so aeeiistomed to tlu; monotoMdiis
miiiil of the rushing wavi'S that it wns iilniosD

II' eiiiiivalent of silence ; so that any other sound

-tlie striking of the bells every half hour in the
ii.ri'ing-1'oom, for exiiiiiple, and the repetition by

n' inaii at the look-out — was startlingly clear
ml distiiut. We ;;(it our chairs brought togeili-
1, iiiid the shawls sjuciid out, and formed a little

iiiiip by ouisclves, whose falkiiig, if we were so
iK'liiied, eoiild not well be overheard. IJiiit there

IS not miieli talking, soiiieliow. Peiliiiiis that
luiiiotonous rushing of the water had a drowsv

Ifict. I'eiliaps we were trying to find out the
laiiics of the |iale, elear ;;tais overhead, f;ir lie-

lul the tall masts that kept swaying this way

111 that as the vessel rose and fell on the long
liues. Or were we wiuidering whether the man
I tlie look-out, whose form was duskily visible

liiist the clear, dark sky, coiilii make out some
mull and ilistaiit speek — some faint gliiniiier of a
ifllit, perhaps — to tell us that wo were no' ipiite

)iio in this awful world of waters':'

Then the stars grew paler; for a new glory bc-
iiii to fill the lamlient skies, and the white deck

;:iii to show blaek shadows that uioved on the
iivery surface as the ship rose to the .vaves.

"iJo you remember that inoon!ig!it night at
ii'iisniere ?" says Queen T to her friend.

.Viid won't you sing us ' The Flowers of the
orest V "

It was quite another song that she sang — in a
)\v voice that mingled curiously with the inonot-
nous, melancholy rush of the waves. It was
bout the bonnie young Flora who " sat sighing
er lai.a, the dew on her plaid an' the tear in her
W'ly should she have picked out this bal-

d of evii oiueu for our very first night on the

ihuiticy

SliK looked at a boat wi' tlie breezes that swung
Away on the wave like n l)ir(l u' tlie main ;

An' aye us It lessened slie si'iht'd an' she sung,
'Farewell to the liid 1 ahull ne'er sue at;ain.'"

-rliaps her conscience smote her. Perhaps she
wnght it was hardly fair to suggest ti. this poor
auiig thing who was thrown on our care that the

nel parting she had just undergone wi;s a final
lie. At all events, as she began to sing this
liior song, it seemed to some of us that she was

'viiig a clear leap across a long interval of time,
F

and imagining herself aomehow as already return*
iiig to English shores. For she sang —

" Uect, ye wild storms, In the caves of your slumbers I

How your drrnd howling a hiver ularius!
Waiiken, yo breezes, row Koiitly, ye IiIIIowm,

And witft my dear laddie unco iiiuir to niy iirmgl
Bat oh ! it' he's lalthless, uud minds na his .s'lninle,

Flow still between us, thou wide roarlii;,' inaiiit
May I never sen it, iimy I never trow II,

llut, dyiiifc', huliovo that my Willie's my alu !"

Perhaps it was only our idle fancy, on thir be'.ii-
tifiil and pensive night, that coupled iiell's s-Iei.-
tioiis with the fortunes of our guest ; but, all
the same, one of us — who is always toiK','>rly
thoiiglill'ul in such small matters — suddenly call-
ed out,

" Come, Bell, we shall have ii'i more siul lO.ig^i.
Who was it tliat used to sing 'The Hiae^ >/ Mar'
with a Huslieil face, as if all ili" olans fi'rui ,J(;hii
O'Oroat's to Airlie were inar.-haling t.iido.' her
leadership':'"'

Bell is an obliging person. S'le saiii; that song,
and niiiiiy anoilier; and there was an i leinpl at
a modest duet or two; while the ^'easi less roar
of llie waves went on, and we w:itehed the moon-
light <)uivor and gleam on the liiirryiiig waters.

"Oh, my (iear," says t^ueeii 'l' , putting her

hainl (111 tlie head of her old friend and ooiiipau-
ioii, who was iKStled at her feet, ''this is not at
all like oros:-iiig llie t'lianiiel, is it'?"

"Not niiieli," says Bell. "I am already con-
vineed that my iiiieostors were Vikin;;s."

Nor was it at all like crossing the Channel when
we went below for the night — [lassing the g.'^'t
ruddy sm'.oo'i, with it-; golden lamps and hu-jiied
ropo>o — and sought out the privaey of one ((iiiet
and neat little eabins. Uiit iiere an aet of re-
tribiuive jaslice had to be adininisteied. Tl oro
were two people standing alone in one of these
cabins, amid a v.iUl confusion of slippers, dioss-
ing bugs, and elotlios-biushes. Says the one to
the other, sternly,

" What did you moan by that suspieious glance
when the steam-yaeht was ineutionod':'"

"What steam-yacht'?" says she. innocently;
but in the dusky light of the lamp her face is
seen to flush,

" You know very well."

Ileie her lingin s iieeome somewhat nervous ; and
a piteous and guilty look comes into the eyes.

"Do you luenu to deny that Balfour was iii>that
boat, that you knew he was to be in it, and that
you dared to kee[i the knowledge from his wife '?"

'' And if he was," says she, with her lips be-
ginning to quiver, " how could 1 tell her V It
would have driven the poor thing inad with pain.
How could I tell her?"

" I believe you have a heart as hard as the
nether millstone."

And perhaps she had ; but it was certainly not
her own sorrows that were making the tears run
down her face, as she pretended to be busy over
a portmanteau.

CHAPTER XXIX.

MID-ATLANTIC.

Those glad days ! — each one a new wonder as
our tremendous speed drove us into successive
and totally different worlds of light and color.
The weather prophets were all at fault. Each
morning was n. surnrise. There might have beeu^

8'i

(;|{KK\ PASTURED AND I'ICCAUlLLf.

f<ir (';;;) 'ii|ili', ii |iliin;'iM'!: iitid roiuiiif^ duiiiitr t\w
lil|ilil, l!iiii I(p!i| ii-i iIii'Ii' wih a liit oi' si'ii n<\ ; tini
WllU Ciiillil llil\'(' illlll^llll'il lii't'iil't'IlMliil lllc brill-
illllt MM I lliii^'liilirrlil lii'iililv of ihis \vt'«l('il_v sjili'
— til" .".'11 lulling' llldll^ ill lii(iilMl;iilliHis Wii r-
Jlic wild MiiiHsi',-( (if fpi IV ."(iriiiiiiii^' liijili into ilu-
iiir I'i'Diii llii' Imiwm (if llii' !-iii|i, till' lipid I'iiiii-
liows I'lii'iiii d Ipv till' t<iiiiliij(lit .■itiikiii;^ en tliii-'e
t(>wciiii|f i'!imdH, llii'ii 11 riittlc ii.s of iiiiisliclrv
(it'll iis tiny fi'li (III (lie mill-lit niid Hti'i'iiiiiin;;
d('cl>-i'.' And if ilii'ii' vi'ii' two olistiiiiUc yoiiiiji
ct'Oiiiiiii'^ who wiiiild lint lit nil I'oiisi'iit to stiiiid
ill till' liinidii'd ('oiii|.iiiii(iiiv,ii\ — if tlicy would in-
Hilt on li>iviii{L; tlii'ii' iiioniiiiL; iniiicli up mid down
till' pliiujiinji d('rli<, with llu' <;ilt-w:it('r riiniiiii':;
down till ii' I'l'ddi'iii'd fiiii's — iiinl tiu'V not tiii'u'
rt'Wiii'd? Tlii'V wi'ic till' di.-iiovcrcrH of tin/ fnct
that «!■ were iiiniiiii),' ii race. Wliat were tliosL'
blai'li (iliji'i'tM tliat li'iipi'ii deal' into tin,- sniilii:lit,
iind Went liiadl'oi'i'inii-t a;,'iiiii into tlio rusliiiu:
viivfs? Uiii' itfi"i' tin- otiici' till' nii'iTv dnlpliiiis
Hpi'iiiii.'" into till' iiir and vaiii-<liL'd aiiaiii, and wi'
wow [.'ntifiil III tlii'in for tliis frii'iidly oscoii
Tiii'y (UTc HiH'liilili' fcliow-i, t'l'isi' doli'lnns — not
lilu' 111!' wliiili'H, wliiili |,"'n(i;dly licpi ,n\.iy soino-
wlii'i'c iir'ir till' lioi'l/on, wlii'ii! liii'y toiild only lie
iiiH'li' out Ipv till' I'l'ciini'iit .j.'t of wliilL' IVinin.

And thru, aL'iiiii, it ininht iiiivi' jiccn tla- vt'i'V
next iiioi'iiiii;^ tliat we found tin' woil 1 of waivr
ami >li> i.."iiwii Htill and diTaindilic, ihi' idod liy
a iny-i'c calin, Tiic sea liki' xiC^t fold^ of silk,
dull, ^lllolllll, iiiid hir'li'i'li'vs, a wastu of luudrr
and dciicatr (j;imv.-i, lii'iikcn only liy the fiiintr^t
sliadouiJ wliiTc tile low waves roiled, tiie sky
iiijiitiy clondi'd ovei' and also gray, with lines of
yi'llowi-li ii;!;lit tlat H''" iiui'i'owei' iiid naimwer
as they iieared the lioi i/oii ; and li. le t'.ie only
lilt of eolor in tin) va^.'iie and shadowy picture — a
sh:iip, liiild, elear line of blue all roiiiui tiie edj^e
of I lie woi'ld, wlicro tlio |)ule Hoa and the pale
sky met.

And so we went on day after day, and the
hells tolled tlie half houi's, and the ^?ong sound-
ed foi' nieuls, and the monotonous eliorus of the
sailoi's —

'■ SrI tlMW f»n'CWl'Il,

My liiiinili' yiiiiiiii glil,
l'"oi' I'm liiMliiirriii- till! Itio Ornn'"—

told ns of llie holy-sloniiij; of the deeks. There
was mthi'i' more eai'dplayiii;.' tlnin reading;, theie
was It jjjoiid deal of peifnnetory walking; somc-
tiiiies there was a nous,' or two in tli" long saloon
of an evening. And liy tiiis time, ton, people had
got to Know each other, and eacli other's names
and eireuinstunees, in ii most surprising manner.
The foinial "(Jood-inorning" of the first day or
two liad developed into " And how are yon this

morning, Mr. Y" The smallest civility was

Hudieient warranty for tlie opening of an ae-
(|uainlanei'sliip. Ladies freely took any proffer-
ed arm for that inevitable promenade before din-
ner — all except one, and she the most remarked
of all. What wan it, then, tliat seotned to sur-
round her, that Hcenied to keep her apart ? A
certain look in her faeeV-^she was not a widow.
Hor manner y — she was almost anxionsly court-
eous to every one around her All sorts and
conditions of men wore eager to bring her chair,
or pick lip hor dropped book, or bid other pas-
sengers stand aHJde to let her piiga tlirough the
coinpanionway ; and all the elderly women — to
judge by tliolr looks— seemed to bless her ia

tlicir hearts for her swcot face, and all the ym
woiinii appeared to be cuii-iderably interestei
her various eostimies; but somehow slie in
no familiar ai'i|uaintanees. Tliey migiit cl
leiige our bright laced Hell to make up a i If ai
rope-ipioits ; and that brave lass, though siic »
dom landed moie than two out of tlie dn/.
'if (pioils on the peg, would set to work vviih
will, her ryes bluer than ever with the blue IIl;!
from the ■■^ea, the sunlight touching the eoiisi.nn
gliidne.-s of her face. Hut when our be til'iil|
pale, sad gui'<t ciiine near to look on, they i,ii!v
modelled their wilil laughtin' sumcwhat. Tiny
did not challenge Inr. Jl wa.s not she wlioiii
they expi'cted to [lencil down the score on tin
white p.iiiil of tlie veiitiiiition ^haft. But tlirnj
was not one of these brisk and active eoiiMiar.
eial jieiitli'iiii'li (who were the most expert pip.
foiiiirrs) who wou! I not instantly stii|) the giiiiie
in order to dart away aiiij get a elniir for lie,
that modest sinilu of thanks was siillicient re.
ward.

There was a young lady who sat near iw m
dinner, a very pretty young lady, who had cuinj
all the way from San Fiiiiieisco, iiini was reium.
ing home after a lenglh;'iied stay in f^iirope, li
was ipiite i videiil lliat she and her fi iciids in -i
havj staid some time in (J;>iieva, and thai they li;i'l
sucenniijed to the teinptalions of tiie place,
scemcil to be greatly struck by Laily Sylvia's a|)-
[learalice, and for the first day or two paid iiiuie
attention to her than to her meals. Now on ilie
third d;ix, iinau'iiie our astonishment — for small
things bceoMic great on lioard ship — on finJiiii;
the|iretty young San l''i'aiii'iscaii come m to br.'.ik
fast without a scrap of jcweliy either round \i-
tii'ck or on her hands. She had even diseank'
tiie forelingcr ring — an ojial surrounded with ili*
monds -which we liad unaniniously declareil to Ik
beautiful. Moreover, she never wore any jewilr)
during the rest of that voyage. Why was tlii:
Wearing jewelry, even (Jeiievau jewelry, is a liaiin nv. There
less foible. Is there any magnetism radiaiiiiji o'^\^\ [„> j.(j_
from a human being that is capable of destroying <ii|rr|it to m
liiaeelets and finger-rings, or, at least, of reiideiiii' ,1 if 1,^^ ]„,,
them invisible? These are the mysteries of lilt )||'( niake 1

Hut indeed we had moie .serious matters t( Ifhybeeom
tliiuk about, for we had with us a- stern moni nn ii dirty li
tress, who did not fail to remind us tliat existence, jt voun" wc
even on board a traiisatlaiitie steamer, is not al \^\^\ g],g ,ij
composed of dry ("iiainpagiie and rope -quoits [Jn, youni'
She had made iheaci)iiaiiitauceof the purser, am tat all dret
from him she had olitained piutieiilars re^MiJ ,\ netive v
ing some of the many emigrants on board. Tli [,m] that he
[liteous tales she told us may have received a toud red up coii
liere and there from an imagination never of tli jliln.ti ■ a^j
dullest, l)ut they sounded real enough, and it wa in.r such a
very clear that they went straight to Lady Sylvin'i uiissin" hei

heart. Was it not possible, she anxiously asked wdTolly

to do somelliiiig for this poor man wdio was dyiii! mQ,} to be
of eonsnmption, and who, eonscions of his doom fp,. ehildre
was making a struggle to have a look at his tw tpsake all
sons out in .Montana before the sunken eyes final ] swx'cts ol
ly closed ? W nar, wo had to do for liiin, a day o ^,[ s^xJoon st

two afterward, was to attend his funeral. Tli Jn ^^ q,

weighted corpse, wrapped round with a union ndous speef
jack, ^ya8 borne along by the sailors to the ster niis.sed all f
of the ship, and i liere a number of the passei s true durii
gers congregated, and stood with uncovered hea Hole" or
to hear the short burial service read. It was no rkablv abst
a pathetic scene. The man was unknown to ui ^ succumb
but for that brief hiat of his dying wish. Tli r the Ncwi

fild winds
jf rhe wort
(Diiw'thing i
Ihc corpse |
10 blank li
nun had nc
There wa:
lii'li, for tl
iiiil tliere t'
iMiiu'ouseit
mm above.
iiiriosity till
ric'iid to rej
nth a grea
lOMiingshe
rlio aiipean
ml II couple
!i'l L:idy Sy
oiiiigthing.J
vtod. Shi'
Ir. K.vaiis, a
went to tl
"Hut wh,\
ll'iiilil they 1
Mill philosi
Look at t!
oiis, her iinl
oiinn who
a hiisbai
ii:n;' must b
tmgiiie he ni
tiller witho
lover tliero
11' I saw the
fed up he
decks ; S(
'; and d»
been wa.-
ii'r now, p
otii lip on tl
) sympathy

and all tlio ymiii?
tildy iuti'ri'>Ui|

Ill'llDW fillC Ih ,|,

lit'v iiii;,'lit >.!i,ii
iiiiki' up II I li' III
s, tli()u;ili hiiic
lilt of lliu (1m
I lo wdi'U wiih 1
ill) till! Iiiiii- li
liiiij^ lliu ri" -l.iiil
R'li (jiir 111' 'iliil,
ook oil, llii'N '.Illy
suniewliiit. Tliry
is not sill' \N liuia
tlio MMi'i' on ilie
^lmt■l. But lln'ie

ill lU'tive fOMlllIlT

must i'X|H'rt |ii'i'.
tly stop till- jiMiiie
I a ili.iii I'lii' In
was siillicioiit r

OREEV PASTUUES AND PICCADILLY.

lio silt near ii< ii'

llv, will) Il'lil I'llllli

I), airl was rcl'ini
ay ill Kiirii|ii', It

lllM' i'lil'lllls III -I

, iiiiii tliai tlu-y Inn:

i(f tiiL' plai'i'. >'ie

Laily Sylvia's a|>

or two paid iimie

L'als, Now on ilie

ilmiont — for simi

1 sliip — on fin liii?

n I'oiiu' into lii'j.ili

V I'itlu'r roiiml li

III I'voii iliscani

fiM windd and tho ni^hitiR wav. s drowned most
(f rhu words of tlip Hcrvii-e. And yet tlu'U' wax
(Diiw'tliinK Htranp' in tiic Hiiddi'iini' < wilii I'liii-h
(■ I'drp-Jf pliint^od down and ilisapinari'd, and in
iho lilank loniiliiifris of the sia tlicrfaftcr. Tiiu
nan had ni'itlii'r friend nor ri'lative on board.
There was an open space on the lower deck into
licji, for the freer air, the enii';iants often cnine;
,nil there they folli»wed tlirir doniestii' piiisnits
iHilMcoiiseio'H HA hei < of lieinj; lookr I do-.' ii upon
mm altove, Surely i( was with no iinpt tiiient

iiri'isity that our (jiieen T f'utrht her >.'entle

rii."iid to rei^ard the^ie pnir people; I'lither it was
(ith a f;reat syinpiitliy uid fi M-nilline^s. ()tii>
loniinjj she drew her attt>ntioii Ik ayoiin;; tvoiimn,
ilin iqipeared to lie also a yoiiiij; mother, for slie
iiiila eoil|)leof children liawdlin^^ahiur lier heels ;
I Laily Sylvia was greatly distresst'd ili it those
ouii;^ thini^s should h' so dirty and o'lvii- i-ly nei:;.
"■teil. She was for srU'liii'^ for lln- iiivahialil'!
Ir. Kvaiis, and l)e'.;4iiiL» him to take soni" little
U'.'ient to the mo! her.

Hut why should they lie dirty? And why
limiM iliey lie liejjfleete I y" deiniiude I that lierc.'
Bcial philosoph-r, whose lieiijht is live foot three,
lidok at the mother; look at her tawdry rib-
oiis, her nnkniiipt hair, her dirty face. She is a
omm wlio has l'"!. no womatily piide. If she
[i< a hnsliand, (iud hi'lj) him! Fancy what his
lime must lie. If he has irot rid of lie-', I should
iiiiriiie he must lie L;lad ; he rouM keep the house
t';iii"r without her. Hut look at that yoiin;; woin-
lover there — I know she has a youin? family too,
ir I saw them this moi'iiinr. See how she has
i,ki'(l up her dres.s so that she can <.ni over the
leeks; si'c how she has carefully liraideil her
lir; and do vou sei' how all tlio-e tin thiiiifs she

iiisly (Icelaied to I
r wore any juwi
, Why was thin!

rounded with iliii^< 1,^.,. II washiuij; are shiniiir^ hriLrhty and look
lur now, polishinfl; that knife, and puitiii',' the
nth up on tli" rope to dry. For my part, I hiiv
I sympathy for U'lmeii who are sipialid and
I jewelry, is a hanujrty". There is no <: ason in the world whv they
fiietisiii radialiii!
able of destroyiiij
least, of reiideiiiii
mvstories of lilt

1 lis that exi.steiiL'e,

wild 1)(! so. A woman — and especially a wife
iiii;ht to make the best of her circumstances;
1 if her husband does drink and ill-use her, she
•rn't make him any the more ashamed of hini-
rions niattcis t< If by bccomiiii; a slattern, and drivinj^ him away
\- stern mom uia a dirtv house. I am "oiii'' down to speak to

It youiif? woniiin who is polishing; the tin ,ju!:;s."

tcanier, is not al .\i„j gi,e di,!^ t,,,,^ m,il became acipiainted with

and ropc-qnoiti the younf^ wife'.s c'.rcnnistaiices. These were

of the purser, aii( i ^^^ i{\\ ih-eadful or pathetic. She was a lirisk

nticiilars rcfrarJ d active younf^ Irishwoman, who was verv

s on board. Tin i,,,! that her husband in New York had at la t

ve received a toud red up enoun^h money to send for her and her

tion never of tli i|,i,.,'n ; and her only" fear was that. New York

enouj^h, and it wa ii^r ^^^,\^ ^ ijjj, place, there miftht be a chance

ht to Lady Sylviai missing; her husband on Roinj; ashore. Queen

le anxiously askd — wholly re-assured her on this point, and

nun who was dyini rjro,! to be allowed to make the acipiaintance

ions of his doom |io|. children, and of course she p;ave them a

a look at his tw >p,ake all round, with a whole heap of fruit

sunken eyes final i sweets obtained by illicit means from the

) for him, a day o of saloon steward.

his funeral. Tli [),i_on— on, night and day, with this tre-
nd with a union mlous speed. Even our women-folk now had
lailors to the stet missed all fear of bein,<» ill. On one niorninj;,
ber of the passei , tme, during a pretty stiff gale in the "Dev-
th uncovered hea Hole," or "Rolling 'Forties," they were re-
! read. It was in rkably abstemious at breakfast, but not one of
as unknown to ui „, succumbed; and now tln't we we-e getting
dyiug wish. Tb ,, the Newfoundland Banks, thev waxed val-

iant. Tlioy declared that croRsing the Atlantic
was mere child's play compared to crossing tho
Channel. Hell grew learned about sipiare-saiU
and try. sails, Mid had picked up all ihe choruses
of the sailors. "(livc a man time to mil a man
down," is not at all a proper sentiinent for li
young liidy ; liiii a j: "eat deal is admissible at sea.

Then we had a Uilorons dir of rain, and thcro
were more hinldlcd groups tliiui i ver in the sniok-
iiig-rooni playing poker, and iiioie discoiisohito
groups than ever at llu' top of the companion-
way looking out on the leaden sky and the lead-
en sea. Moreover, as the day waned, fog camo
on ; and that evening, as we sat in tlie saloon,
there was ominous convcr-ation aboard. Wo
heard the dull booming of the fog-horns as wo
sped through the night. Was not our courso
somewliat too noitheily? What about Icebergs?
Tonard morning should we not be dangiu'ousljr
near Cijii Hiee — not darei roii-ly for ourselves,
but for tlh inehored seliooiiers and smacks on
the «;rcat .iaiik, any oee of which wiuild be
jiloughed down by this huge vessel, with only
perhaps one shiiek of agony to tell what liiid
hiippeiied y It w .IS a gloomy (.•veiling.

Hut then, the iie.M moiiiing! AVIiere W(is the
fog'::' A (loiiie of clear blue sky; a sea of dark
blue, with the ciisp white c "sts of tli(> riinuinj»
waves; a fresh, invigorating westerly breeze.
And now surely we were gctiing out of the re-
gion of iitiknowii and monotonous waters into
something delinite, human, approachable; for it
was with II great interest and gladness that tho
early risers I'oiuid all around thiun the anchored
schooners, and it was with even a grcalci inter-
est that we drevN near and passed a rowing boat
lull of nil 11 whose bron/eil faces were sliiiiing
red in the sun.

" These are the poor fellows I told you about,"
said our admiral and coiiiiiiander-iii-ehief to her
friend. ''Think of the daii'-'er they iniM be in
on a feu'iry night — think of their wives and chil-
dren at home. I should not wonder if their
wive-' were glad to see them when they got back
to shore !"

"It is dreadful — dreadful," said Lady Sylvia;
and pc'haps it was the new e^cileinciit of seeing
these stiange faces that made her eyes moist.

We had to pass still another long, beautiful
day, with nothing iironnd lis visible but the blue
sea and the blue sky ; but if the honest truth
must be told, we were not at all impatient to find
bt"ore us the far low line of the land. Indeed,
we looked forward to leaving this life on board
ship with not a little regret. We were going far-
ther, perhaps to fare worse. We had become a
sort of happy family by this tiiii(?, and hud niado
a w hole host of friends, whom we seemed to have
known all our lives. And one of us was rather
proud of her skill at rope-ipioits, and another
was mad on the subject of sea-air, and another
— his initials were Oswald Von Rosen — was deep-
ly inteicsted in the raffles and betting of t!ie
smoking-room. What would the next day's run
be? What would the number of the pilot be?
Woidd that ancient mariner have a mustache or
not y There was a frightful amount of gambling
going on.

The next morning our admiral insisted that
there was a strong odor of sea-weed in the air,
and seemed proud of the fact.

" Madame Columbus," said our German friend.

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

'i
f

■I

Hcriously, *' it ia a happy oracn. I do not think you
could prevent a mutiny much lonRer — no; tlio
men Huy tlu ro ih i-.r niicIi pliico m America ; tliey
will not ho deceived ; they will return to Spain.
The crow o! Oie I'inla are in revolt. They do
not core any mo."e for tiie presence of ihone hirdH
— not at all. If wt^ do not hco land soon, they
will kill you and j;o home,"

Hut the eonliiience which we placed in our ad-
miral was soon to be jiistilied. Far away on the
Boutheiii horizon we at length dcMcried a pilot-
IxMit ll.viiit; the flat? of prolt'erei' as,^l.stance. We
hailed Willi Jot the appearance of this small ves-
nel, which the savafie iidiiiliitants of the nearest
coast had doiilitless sent out to welcome the pi-
oneers (d' civilization; and we rejiarded wirh awe
and reverence the siihlime featiM'cs of Maiiunic
Columbus, now irradiiited with triii!n|)h. As for
the wretched creatures who had been mutinous,
it is not for tills hiiiid to cliionicle tlu; sudden
chaiiife ill their mimuer: "They iniplorecl hei',"
Huys u >,'reiit historhm, "to pardon tiieir ijj;no-
raiu'c, incredulity, mid insolence, which hail cre-
ateil so niiieli inineces>ary dis(|iii('t, and had so
often obsiniet' d the prosecution of lu-r well-con-
ceiled plan ; and pn.-.siii^, in the wiinuth of their
adiiiiraiion, from on,' extreme to unothcr, they
now proiioiuieLil iier whom they li:id so lately re-
viled and threateii'il, to be a person inspired by
Heaven with siifii'.eiiy and lortiliide more than hu-
man, in order to ai i'(iiii;ili.»li a ile>ij,n so far l)cyond
the ideas and eo;i:(|iliiiis of all former af^es."

Strau'.'er still, the iiiitlve whom v,e took on board
this friendly boat was found to be clotlied, iind
he spoke a iaiiu'ui'.p' which, alth()a;,'li not Knjjlish,
was Intel. i,Lril)U'. We ref.'ai'de<l liiiii with jireat
curiosity; but there was notiiin;? savafie or un-
couth in his manners, lie had riiif^s in his ears,
and he smoked a shoi't clay pipe.

Of coiuse our excitement all that day was
great, and tiicic was a wild scene in the sniokinji;-
room in the eveniuj; — a nioek tiial by jury having
produeeil a fjood many botMes of wlii-key in the
way (d' fines. The sonj^s were licartv and luiur.se.
We lallKM a rii.i,'.

On the followinj; morninj? ticiv was something;
to make one rub one's eyes. It was a loni;;, biint,
jmie blue thiiiL', streteliinf; aloiij; the western
iiorizoii, and haviiifi the appearance of a huf^e
whale lying l)askiii;? in tin; mist of the early sun-
light. We called aloud to tho.se who were be-
low. That blue line in the yellow mist was —
America !

CHAPTER XXX.

LANDED !

There was excitement enough, to be sure.
Every one was on deck, eagerly regarding the land
that was momentarily drawing nearer And who
were these ladies whom we now saw for the first
time? Surely they could not have been ill all
the way across the Atlantic ? Or had they not
rather given way to an abject terror of the sea,
and hidden themselves close in their berths in
order to get a sort of ostrich safety ? And the
gentlemen who attended them, too — whence had
they procured such a supply of tall hats? We
resented the appearance of that ungainly article
of costume. We had grown accustomed to the
soft and delicate colors of sea and cloud ; this

And non

Viii k lay li
laming (he
mv sun wai
Hf had nev
llle blaek
iiiit lloalit

ln|l of thi'l

It han.lki

.Sow till!

iiwliil isoba

i\ oiii' pi'a_\

iilhiMtie s;e

llitll a lle:n

T'.\o sov.re
into tile ha
I'Vi'ii then li
iM.ili,unity a:
iilintit the M
iiuiel in a el
iiilo a iaiiyii
till!.' baek t(i
>l:i>ill(l be til
'ir never ((
liiit there w

l.,V soil, Mill

m;; III' one |i
iviiiai'kabic
iiH'iit thai, b
we were bell
niliiis that I

Ruddcn black patch struck a blow on tho 070 ; It
watt an outrage on tho harmonious atmoMphciic
effects all around us.

For now wo were slowly Bteamlng over the
bar, in the ollllnesH of the suminur morning; luid
the beautiful olive green of tho water, iiu(|
tho great bay before us, and tho white-sailiij
schooners, and the long Hcnucirele of low givi'
hills were all softeiu-d together with a mist nl
heat. Tlie only sharp point of light was cIih
at hand, where the promontory of Sandy Undk
blazing in sunlight, jutted out into the rippling
water, it was all liki; a dream as we slowl)
glided along. The pale hills looked spectral am
remote: we preferred not to know their niiiiu'
And then, as we drew near the Narrows, our lilii<'
eyed Ik'll could not conceal her astonishment 11
delight. Surely, slu; said, we had missed our w
somewhere, uiul got baek to the wrong side
the Atlantic! The Wdoded lii'ls coming close
the sea; the villas on the slopes, half hidden ii
soft green foliage; the long line of sandy slioiv
the small yachts riding at anchor in the eli'ii
and rippling water — why, surely, surely, she s.ii
we had just come down the Clyde, and hail p
to Dunoon, or Inelliin, or tlu; Kyles of Hute. \V
knew (piite well that one (d' these yachts was ili
AijIii'm. Wc knew perl'cetly that if we win
walking along the shore there, wc should inert
thickset little man in smart blue uniform, ul
would say,

" Ay, ay, mem, and will you be goiiig for a siildiariot, and

to-day, mem ? Mr. , it is away up the liill ilii,<i, und ih

lie is to-day; and he will hi; penting all the duv
and the wind it is ferry good to-day, mem, I'er
run down to the Cumbiaes and back, mem."

And what would our Hell answer? She wuu!
say,

" Dear Captain Archie, we will go on board I
A;ihtm at once, and go to the Cumbracs, and I'l

ther than that. We will leave .Mr. paiiili

up in the hills for ever and ever, until he coint
down a Uii) V^an Winkle. We will go far bcvuii
the ('uinbracs, to Loch Uaiiza and Killiraii;i
Sound, to the Sound of Jura aiul Loch Uuy, n
wc will listen to the singing of the mermaiil
Colonsay. And I pledge you my word, Capt
Archie, that we will never once in all the voyiiji
begin to cry because we are not bounil for Idaho.

But these idle dreams, begotten of the morniii
mist and the sunlight, were soon dispelled. W ireen casenn
came to anchor off Staten Island. We reganle n\ houses v
the natives who boarded us from the small stetin in^' ailaiithti
er with great interest and wonder; they werci nvepers abo
like ordinary human beings as possible, and di ivnod will
not seem at all depressed by having to live in very when
place some three thousand miles away from at ,lmnlless sk
where — which was our first notion of Ameiie tmnants wii
Then wc had to go down into the saloon, and ; And surely t
through the form of swearing we had no fori* 'iiter — the I
den merchandise in our luggage. It was a ted
ous process ; but we did not fail to admire tb
composure of one stout little gentleman, wli ['ujilds deccn
passed the time of waiting in copying out 011
large sheet of paper a poem entitled " Love."

"The love that sheds its mortal ray,"

the verses begun. He had stumbled across tliei

in a book out of the saloon library, and they hil

been too much for his kindly heart. Happily! lid once tell

had his copy completed before the great ship wi quality in iv

got into the dock.

til a liouui

inkier.

"(iiaiioiif
III}.' on to til
ttmicoiit on
nil- ihiin ('I'd

" Madame
Ills teeth eii
iriip of iiboiil
"ilie Ainei'l
.'iiiiiplainl;
■II."

lint what
.Viii'iieu'r
ill Aviieriea a
Viii'k II s<irl
«'i' were — in

.\nd nlreai
for thit
iigon the li
'ii.%v at one(
ive fight be

"Ah, it is

uistake.. Tl

w on the e jo ; Iv

iouH atmoHplu'iic

saniltif; ovor tht
cr muiniiiK ; and
tlio Miitur, iim
tlio whito-suiki
rc'lo of low niwn
■ Willi a m\M (I
r li^lit was c'Id'i
' of Siinily Houk,
into tliu ri|))iliii;
mi iiH wt» hIowI
iked Hpectriil luv
now tlu'ii' naiiiv
uirrow.'*, our liliii'
iistoiiiriliinciit nil
id rn'wHod oiir «,ii
ho wi'oiiR Hid
i« eoiiiin^ I'losi'ti
us, lialt' hiddrii ii
o ol' sandy hIkih'
ulioi' in till' iliM
r, Kiirt'ly, sill" >.iil
Ivdo, iukI liiid p>
/ifs of Hiitf. \V(
';U' yui'iits was tli
that if ue wu
wu should iiu'i't
iluo uniform, »l

ntiii;:; all tlio (lay
to-day, nii'in, Un
I liauk, iiioin."
iwory She wuu

<:uia:N rASTiRKs and piccadu.ly.

And now the diiskr, stci'pli'd nm«is of N'l-w
YmU lay h( I'oro us, and (•\|ict|s ivnc fa','i riy
iiiiiiiili); ttu' |iiili('i|ial luiililiiius t.i !^ti'ati;.'t'i>, ami
tile sun was laatiii^ lii .oily on u.-- «icli a lir.il

f had iK'Vt'i' csin'ilL'nii I at sr:i. Tlicro was a

lllc hiai'k crowd of |K'<i|>Ii' on tlio wharf; lliis

II lit tliialiii{ i>aliu't' si'i'iiii'il liiaiin^' down on tlii'

ln|i "f tlicni. And siindy it was |iri |iosh'i(iiis

l!i:il haiidki'irhii'fs sliiiiild lie wavi'd aircaiiy.

Now tin; pi'o[du who had wiiiiud us of lln-
iiAliil isolnirs, and ),'L'nci'ally ri'iMiMinifiidi'd us In
.;iv our |ii;iu'is bcfoi'i! st('|ipiii;^ on hoard a tiaiis-
iillantii' sii-anii'i', had also hariowrd tia' sduU
nitli a di's^iipiioi of ihc dilliciillii's id' lalidili;;.
T'Ao Hov, reigns was tlio loa>t tip to hi' slipped
into till' hail Is td llie I'usloindiousi' otiiii r, and
.vrii then he ini.uli!, liiiii upon us wllii a lieiidi.>li
iiuili'.'iiity a. Ill siiutei' oiii' iiinoieiit naiiliolics all
iiliiiut tiie Mliaif. TliMi what alioiil jrcttin;; to a
iiuti'i in a eity that has no eiihs? .■<(ioiild »e;',i i
into a iiilpyiiiiih of iiMin-wny rars, and I'lid hy^v't-
liii|j: hiK'k to the sliaiiirr and dciiiaiidin;; tliaf we

iiiilld he t liven to I/im'i|ioiiI loi'liiaiiliV \\'('ll,
'II' ni'Vei' i|iiile kiKiv. hov.- it, was all liiaiia:.'!' I ;
liut thi'l'e Wii^ no ^o,iiiiiiiajj;e, and i.o tip;iiii;^ of
,i;.\Miit, and nolh.iiij, lait tlio iiiosi foiiiial op^n-
in;,' id' one poi'l'iliaiitcail out of a dozen ; and si'eii
niiiiiikahle livllity, swiflir.'ss, and ^i.nd iiiTan;,;o-
iiH'iit that, lu'fori' we eoiiid wholly unilirstand it,
we were hi'iii;^' wliiilc 1 away in a liiii,'i' liotil niii-
iiilms that had liifjh spi'iii'rs like a (.iforj.;.' 1\'.
le f^oiiif; for a sai tliaiiot, and thai ploii!;iieil tliidiiLili tlio lldcii
away up the liill dii.-i, and then ,s|)iuiiir iiji on tlm tiaiii-way tails
ivitli a hoiind.tliat (luiij; us about like pease imi

iiddiT.

" ( i i'aiioiis<5:oodness I" ci'ied Queen T , eiiiij;-

iii>; on to the window, so that .she should not be
limiirout on tiie olhei '^ide; "this i,-. nioie ilalij,'ei'-
Diis ihaii ei'ossins a dozen Atlaiiiies !''

" Madame," said our (ieraian eoinpiitlioll, with
his leelli rlinehi'd, and his hands keepilij; a ti^',lit
t'lip of about a dozen ha!;s, ninbi'elhu^, am! shawls,
"llie Ainei'ieans siiIV'T a 1,'ieat, deiil fioni liier-
cimiplaint; tliat is why they kiep tlioir stieuts

11 f!;o on board
'iiinhraeB, and Uv

Mr. painli'i

ev, until he eoint
will (JO far beyoii
'.a. and Kilbiaii
ml Loeli Diiy, an
>f the mermaiil
my word, Capt

bound for Idaliu

laving to live in
les away from ai
otioii of Ameiic
the Hiilooii, niul ;

copying out on
ititled " Love."

mortal ray,"

Uitt what was the use of his talkinii; iiliont
Aiiii'iieaV A boobv emild have sueii wo were not

in all the voyaj in Aiiiciiea at all. We had expeeU'd to lind New

__ ink a sort of ovcrfirow n Livc.iiool , but here

:en of the moriiin wo were — in I'luisI I'aris every whore — in the
on dispelled. W jreeii easeinents of the window, the plaster-fiont-
id. We regni'ils .'ci houses with Mansardroofs, the aoiioia-li.oU-
in the small stean i:i>; lulaiithiis aloiif; the pnvenients, the trailiiif;
der; they werea i'ioo|iers about the baleoiiios, tlir doors of earvod
possible, and (li miod witli white ni'tal hnndlis. I'.iris, I'aris
vi'iy where — in the hot dry air am! the pale ami
I'lmidless si\y, in the f^aiidy .shop fronts and res-
taurants with I'.irisian letteiiii;; on the siuns.

, -, .\iul surely tlii.'S too, is a Parisian hotel that we

we had no fortiii 'titer — the bi;; and .irilt saloons, the bedrooms
5e. It was a td ii'iivily furnished in dark red velvet, an odor of
iail to admire tb uliaeeo every where, and bl;i(> eloiuLs and pink
gentleman, nil Cupids deeoratiiis the staireasc!

And already we are involved in oui' fir.st qiiar-
•I'l, for til It vehement Genni n has been iiisist-
n;; on the Irish |u)rters briiifiinq up all oiir lujr-
!ai;e at onee; and as there has been a sort of

rary, and they hi

the great ship w

mbled across tli« we H(;!it below, he comes funiin::; up stairs

._ lil _.l.» 11 A1 ?i •_*..-_ 11 l-_ ll.-.l. _i. A

"Ah, it is tine," .«ay3 he, " what an American

icart. Happily 1 lid once tell me. He said, ' Yon think it 'u all

jqiiality in my country V No, no ; that is a great
nistakc. . The obsequiousness,' said he, 'that

marks till' relations between the waiter at a ho-
ti'l and till' lAiiet at a hotol, that is shoekin;; —
shoekiii;.'. Ili'i tlioii,' wild he, 'the ob.sei|Uiou.'4-
liess i,- ••.!! i/u llio sidi' of the ^T'losl.' "

We did not III lieve fur a iiioiiioiit that any .•iieh
Aiiiei'ioan evor cxi^-toi!, thoii;.h all natiuns, ox-
eei't till' Soololi, have a eiiiiiiiinii liiek of saying;
e\il tliili;^-! "f tlioinsolvi s. Wc bolioved that this
yoiiii;; in in hi I iiiipndi'iuly inv.'iitod the story to
exeiisc his oM'ibeiiriii,'; and blnstoriii;; lioatiiioiit
of throe poor dinviitindden sons of Krin, who,
wlion tlioy did briiij^- up our portniaiitoaus, showed
how they ii'\ollod iij-'ainst this i;;iioble .-.liive y by
piti'hini; tlioiu down atiyhow. Tlioy had .air re-
spoetfiil >yniiiathy ; but we dared not olVor llieni
the coiiiiiioii eonsolatiiiii <d' a piece of motley,
'I'lioy wi'i'o doubtless, as their biariiif^ showed
llielii to be, the deseeiidniits of kinj.'S.

There is one distressing; peeiiliiirify of Anierl-
eaii hotels whioli has never been reinaiked upon
by any travellor, ami that i.s their extreme insta-
bility of foiindiitioii. As we were i'ii;.;iii;eil in
oponiii^ our poi Inianteaiis to <.;et some eostumeit
II. ore h;;il,ib!e for the lirevailiiif; heat, tlioso
l'';onili loii!\iie; beii.'i leiis, with tliiir till and
narrow wimin.Ns slioltered by wImio easi-inents,
and their soiiil ooiiohes and eiL-y-eliiiirs all eov-
('led with tiiiil oiimson Vein t wliioh is a swei!t
Milaee in .luiy — our bediooiiis, 1 say, kept oscil-
lating iliis wiiy iiiid lliat, so that we could scarce-
ly keep our feet. The pas.-ii;ies, too! After u
|.;reat de.il of kiinckiii'.: and cailiiif;, wi' nni.^teiej
up our party to l'o down to luiielieon, and then
we foinid the Ion;; lobliy swaun;; liitlier and
thiliier far more violiiuly than the saloon of the
bi;;- ship had iloiie in the " KolHii;; Ku'.lics." We
dared nol eo down the staiis wiilioiit elin/in;^ on
to each o,her We bo;.'an to l)i''ieve that tlio
eity of New Voik must be built like a water-
li(-ii's nest, which rii'cs and falls with the rise
and fall of the si ream Jl seemed very hard, in-
deid, fiiat we should have siieeessfiilly crossed
the Atliiiitie wiiliout expciiciioiiii; any diseoin-
I'oif, o.ily to hml oiiiviel ."S heaved about in this
fashiiiu. It was ol.-crve!, however, that this
sti'iiK;;e eondiicl <iii the part ol the iiolel gradual-
ly oca -I'll lis we .s.it at luneheiiii, so that we were
happily alloivcd t^i exaiiiiiie the ehar.icteri.sties of
the Anierloall fiilnily at the next table — the first
ili>tiiictive ^'loiip of natives we had seen on shore.
They fully biHe out all we had heard about this
coiinrry. Tiie elilo.U 'iaimhter was raliier pretty,
but sallow and iinlu'iililiy, and she drank a fii^^lit-
fiil (luantily of iced water. The niaiinna was
sliriinl^en and shrivelod — all eyes, like a young
crow — and seemed alljioted with a profound mel-
ancholy. The jiapa devoted hiinseif to his news-
pa jier an 1 his tooiii-pick. And there w>'re one or
two yoini;.'er eliililri'ii, noisy, tiirbiilent, petted,
and impertinent. All lliese well-known eharac-
teri-ties we poreeiied at a .i;laiiee. It is true, wo
afterward discovered that the family was En-
fflish ; but that was of little aeeonnt.

We went for a drive in the hot, clear, brilliant
afternoon. Paris — P.iiis — Paris every where.
Look at the cafes, with their small marble ta-
bles ; look at the yoiin^ men in straw hats, who
are continually cliewinj;; the end of u damp cigar
that won't keep alight; look at the showy net-
tings of the small, wiry, long-tailed horses, and
the spider-wheele 1 vehicles that spin along to the
Bois de — to the Central Park, that is. Of course

■%■■•■

:.ij.
-*

GUEExV PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

when we meet one of those veliicles we ket p to
the I'iglit hiiii(i — nny Ixxly could hiive I'orctotil
that. And licrc is t!io Park it.self — a vury beau-
tiful pai'lv iixici'd, with cc'con folingc, windin;^
roiids, orii:i!iuii(ul wuteis, .'^tMtiu',-, fouiitniiis.
Thciri i;i a h:ind pliiyiiij;; down thcii^ in the .■<!iade
<if th(> ti'w-. And lu'ie i.s a i>ro:id paved thor-
oii;»iifare — a pninicnado — with a nun inur of tr.li<-
inj;, and a pU'vaihiig odor of eig.'.roltes. Of
coni'.^e it is Ofl'-'nlinch the band is ijjayiii!:;; aM<l
it is pleasant (.'nou/ii to lake a seat ut tliis point
of tlie Uuis and look at the people, and listen to
the music, and observe the glare of the sini!i,y;ht
on tlie greensward beyond and on the crystal
shoots of the fountains. And the plashing drops
of the foinitains have a music of their own.
What is it they are singing and saying and
laugliing ?

" Tflnt qn'oii le ponrrn, Inrirette,
0?i He damiicrn, Inriral
Taut qu'Dii lo pourra,
L'on trinqiiera,
Clmntera,
Aiinura
La llllcttc.
Tni'f qn'on Ic iioiirm, Inrirette,
On HO (hiiniioni, liirira!"

"How do }on like Iicing in Paris?" says Lady
Sylvia, with a gontio smile, to her companion, the
German ex-iieutcMant..

'' I do not like thinking of Paris at all," said
ho, giavoly. " 1 have nut seen Paris since I saw
it from Ver.-aillcs. And there arc two of my
friends buried at Versailles."

And what was making our ; lad-faced Bell so
serious too? She -had not at all expressed tiiat
adnjiriitioi! of the thoroughfares we had driven
throu;ili wliie'ii was fairly dtnianded by tln'ir hand-
some build', gs. \Vas she rather disappointed by
the French look of New York ? Would she rather
have had the good honest squalor and dirt and
smoke of an English city? Sh was an ardent
patriot, w(; iiU know. Of all the writing that ever
vas written, there was none could stir her blood
like a piece that was printed in a journal called
«hc Lxaiiii'in; and that begins .

" First drink u hoiiltli, lliia solemn night,
A lieiiltli 10 Kns:!uii(l, every u'liest ;
Tin! nianV tlie liest eiisiiMi|i()lite
Wlio )i)vt» his native ciiuntry best."

Was it lieeaiise she had nin.'ried a German that
she used to repeat, with suen bitterness of scorn,
that bitterly scornful verse that goes ou to say :

"Hflr frantic city'ti flnsliint!: lienta

Hut fire, to hliist, t!io Impes of men.
Wtiy cliJiiige ttie titles o. your streets?
You fools, you'll want faem al' again!"

But it was surely not because she had married a
German that, when she came to the next appeal,
the tears invariably rushed to her eyes:

"Gipantic (liui;,'litor of the West,

Wo (IriiiU to tlii'c! across llie flood;
Wi^ know tliee iinil v. ■ love itiee hest,
For art thou not of Rritisli blood?
Should war's mad liliist acuin bo blown,

Permit .'ot tliou tlie tyrniit powers
To flebt thy mother heri; nioiie,
But let thy hrondBidef* roar with ours I
Hands all round !
God the tyrant's eanso onfoundl
To our dear kinsmen of tli. West, my friends,

And the great i\nnie of England round and round !"

And wns our poor Bell grieved at heart, now that
she had crosacd the three thousand niilea of the
Atlantic, to find that, the far daughter of the West

: had forsaken the ways of her old-fashioned m.ith.

er, and had taken to I>"reneh finery and to siii);.

ing —
! "Tnnt <]n'on le imnrrn, lariri^tto,

yii\ se danmern, Inririi!"

" My dear child," it is necessary to say to hor,
"why should you be so disa|)puinted ? They
that New York changes its aspect every five
years; at pre.ient she has a French fit on. Lor,
i don changes too, but more slowly. Twenty yeiirs
: ago every drawing-room was a blaze of gilt an^
rose-color ; people were living in the time of Louis
XIV. Five years ago Kensington ami St. Jolui
Wood had gel ou to the time of yueen Anno;
they fixed yon oii peniieiitial seals, ami gave Vdu
your dinner in the dark. Five years hence Kuii.
siugton and St. John'.s Wood will have become
Jiipancsc — I foresee it — I predict it; you wii;
present ne with a pair of gold peacocks if it isii'i
so. And why your disajipoititineiit? If you don't
like Paris, we will Jeave Paris. To-morrow, if \ou
please, we will go up the Rhine. The beauty of
this Paris is that the Hliiiu! tlows down to it*
very wharves. Instead of taking you away out
to Chalons, and whipping yon on to Bar-lc-din
and Nancy, and making you hop across the Vosua
— the Vogcscn, I beg your pardon — we will under
take to transoort you in about twenty minutes
for the triHiti; sum of ten cents. Shall it be so':'''
" I am not so stupid as to be disaiipointed with
New York yet," snid our Bell, rather gloomily

She called it New York. And she still believcJ
it was New York, tliough we went ni the evening
to a great hall that wa- all lit up w itli small cut
ored lam])s ; and the itaiul was playing Lecoci|;
iiiid the same young men in the .^traw hats were
promenading round and round and smoiiing ci:
arettes, ;u.d smart waiters were bringing glasMij
of beer to the small tables in the; boxes. Then
we got back to the Imiel, not a little tired witb
the long, hot, p;ircliing day ; and we went to.hcJ
— pereh.inee to dream of cool English rains anj
our Surrey heilges, and the wet and windy cloui^p I'mthiii.'-'ju
blowing over from the sea. ^^^„ ,„oiin,,

lo this Atla
preen ailan
timst ; ami
rtill and su
(ind embai 1
fteamcr.

to this kir
tinowingd
u separate
pcnse won

Anil all!
()■>. writing
did that in
er strove t
inuniciitioii
when the 1
account of
particular
the wonder
of iiiformi
would miic
between t«
cusion she
cuiint of tl
ohvio'.isly (
fof Yoioiff
were genet
never jiarai
Till, she sp
place of lit
were in the
ways be loo
That was n
this, the sn
tery, her te
archway wl
—that was
upon thons
who had la
ed through
New Work
their loss of
•aid she, v
Aiueiica, a
bad been
Cidmly accp

And at 1(
contained a

CEIAPTEK XXXI.

(illOSTS AND VISION.S.

Of course we did not run away from New York ^]^^, in-j,;,,) (

merely because our good Bell was of o'pinion tliiil
the city had something too imieh of a French look
We had many e.xcellcni. friends pressing their hos-
pitalities on US; we had many placed to visit
and then Queen T must needs insist on tel-

cgraiihing to England that letter.^ should be sent
o\it to us by a particuhir steamer. Letters ! No
doubt when Columbus landed on the shores of
San Salvador, and foimd a whole new world await |J)o|.^. and n
ing his explorations, his first impulse wa.s to sil mystic drea
down anu ry because he could not hear whether p.,|.t of ^^m
his mothe.-in-l iw's cold was better.
She was most economical, too, nbout that tcl

egram. She woidd not have Lady Sylvia seiidi Wimt fs t|

separate message.

" A couple of words extra will do," she said,

" and they will undei tand to go over to the Hall riip )„,y
and let your father — and Mr. Balfour too^kno«

that you have arrived safely. Why should yoi py „f ,, p.

send a separate message ?

Why, indeed 1 The young wife was gratefii j i'npses ol

grateful ar
archways, ii
passage of
breeze, and
drinks. Ui
chairs and
nut nmch
Bwiftlv stea

pa
ncitlier the

i.e anv riv

ba;ie that k
for them

river ought

l,MI

e SKV IS

GlliiLN I'A^TLUCri AND I'lCCADILLV.

l-fashioncd moth,
ncry and to sing

larirrtte,

•a!"

iiry to say to her,
liiitcd'' Tlli'V s;i;
ispoct every live
nch (it oil. Lull.
ly. Twenty yoari
l)l;ize of gilt ,111
> the time of Lmiis
on and St. Jolm':
; of Queen Ann
Mils, iind <i,AVii vdu
years hence Kwi.
will have heeome
diet it ; you will
leaeocks if it isn'i
rut? If you doii'i
To-morrow, if \ou
J. Ttie beauty c(
Hows down to its
inp; U)u away out
on to Bar-le-(liij
I across the Vosiit.j
jn — we will under-
It twenty miniitH
. Shall it be so?'
disaiipointeJ with
■atlier fjlooniily
d she still believe,
int in the eveniii;
up with small col-
s playiu}; Leuotq;
le .^traw iiats were
anil smoiiiiif; ei;*-
1 l.rinj:;inn glasMi
the lioxes. Then
I little tired witli
id wc went to.hcd
iiif;Usli rains aiv
and windy clouiy

Id thi.s kind friend of hers for so considerately
tlii'owins dust in our eyes. Why should she si'iid
;i separate iiiessa';(' to iier husband, when the ex-
pfiise would be ho desp.'rate y

Anil ailliouj;h t^ueen T lavished her time

(!■< wridu;.; letters to her lioys at home, she always
did that ill tiie ]uivify of her own room, and rath-
er strov(> to hide o" to make little of these com-
iiiunieations with Enj;land. Columbus himself,
when the kinji and queen iisked him to give an
aecouiit of his travels, eoiild not have been more
particular than this new discoverer in describing
the wonderful things she had seen. The amount
of information cuiiveyed to those boys — who
would much rather have had a sovereign sewn up
between two cards — was enormous. On one oe- j
casion she was caught giving them a precise ae- 1
count of the Conslituti<m of the United Slates,
ol)vio'isly cribbed from Mr. Nordlioff'S I'olilicx
for Young Avimmiis. But then these budgets
were generally written at night, and they were
never jiaraded ne.\t day. When, before Lady Syl-
Tia, she spoke of lingland, she treated it as a
place of little account. Our necessary interests
were in the things around ns. One could not al-
ways be looking back and indulging in sentiment.
That was more to bo pardoned — and as she said
this, the small philosopher was down ut the Bat-
tery, her tender eyea gazing wistfully at a certain
jicliwiiy which barred our view of the ^ea beyond
—that was more to be pardoned to the thousands
upon thousands of sad-lit'arted men and women
who had landed at this very point, who had pass-
ed through that archway, witli their hopes of the
New World but feebly comiiensatiug them for
llieirlosa of home and kindred and friends. This,
naid she, was the most interesting spot in all
America, and the most pathetic. And as she
bad been two whole days on this continent, we
Ciilmly aciiuicsccii.

And at length the arrival of our letters, which
contained a vast amount of important news alioiit
nothing at all, relieved the anxious hearts of the
two mothers, and set us free. We l)id farewell
to tills Atlantic i'aris, with its hot |)avenieiits, its
green ailanihus-trees, its dry air, and intolerable
tliirst; and at about three o'clock on n strangely
H\\\ and sultry day we drive down to the wluirf
mid embaik on a large and cuiioiisly constructed
steamer. Jhit no sooner have we got out on to
the broad bosom of the river than we find how
grateful are these spacious saloons, and lofty
archways, and cool awnings, for now the swift
passage of the boat produces something like a
breeze, and for a time we cease to brood on iced
drinks. Under the pleasant awning we have our
}r.s should bo seiil (hairs an.l books and fruit; but the books are
r. Letters! No not much regarded, for, as we noiselosly and
Bwiftly steam up against the eurrt.i't, it appears
s new world await- more and more certain iliat we have got into some
mpulse was to sil mystic dream-land which can in no wise be any
not hear whether part of America, and that this river is not only
neither the Hudson nor the IJhine, liut wholly iiii-
e any river seen out of a vision of the night.
What is the meaning of the extraoniinary still
ba:'.e that kills out natural coloivs, au'' substitutes
for them the ineie plianiasmagoiia of things y
,0 over to the Hall fhe low and wooded hills that here bound the
(iilfour too — kno« fiy,.,. ought to be green ; they arc, on the confi.i-
Why should yoi rv, of a pale opalesque bli'ie and white. The
I'Mii' sky is faintly obscui'cd; we can only catcii
wife was gratefu .inipses of white villas in these dusky wood.> ;

IONS.

ly from New York
as of opinion thai
1 of a French look,
pressing thoir hos
y placeii to visit
ceils insist on tel

tter

ao, nbout that tol-

,ady Sylvia send i

vill do," she said,

all around is a sort of slumberous, strangely hucd
mist; and the only definite cohu' visible is the
broad patln 'ay of sunlight on the stream, and
that is of a leep and ruddy broii/e where the rip-
ples flash. We begin to grow opiiressi'd by this
strange gloom. L-^ ii not sdMiewliere in this neigh-
borhood iliat the iiios! "deevilish cantrips" are
still performed among the lonely hills, while the
low thunder booms, and unearthly figures appear
among the rocks? Should we be surprised if a
ghostly barge put off from that almost invisible
,sliore, bringing out to us a company of solemn and
silent mariners, each with his horn of schnapps,
and his hanger, and his ancient beard? Will
they invite us to an awful carouse far up in the
sombre mountains, while our hair turns slowly
gray as we drink, and the immcasurabh! years go
sadly by as we regai'd their wild 'aces? "Bell!
Bell !" we cry, " exorci.se these Dutch fiends ! Sing
lis a Christian song ! Quick — before the thunder
rolls !" And so, in the midst of this dreadful
.■stillness, we hear a sweet and cheerful sound, 'ind ■
our hearts grow light. It is like the ringing of
church bells over fields of yellow corn:

"Fuiiitly as tolls the evciihig chime—"

the sound is low, but it is clear and sweet as the
plashing of a fountain —

"Our voices keep tune, and our oars keep time."

And, indeed, there are two voices now humming
the subdued melody to ns —

"Soon as the woods on shore look dim.
We'll sing at St. Ann's our purling; liymii.''

Surely the mists begin to clear, and the sun is
less spectral over those dusky hills? Hendriek
lIuil<on — Vanderdecken — whatever in the dcvir.s
name they call you — be off, you and your ghastly
crew! We will not shake hands; Imt we wish
you a safe return to your gloomy rocks, and may
your barrels of schnapp.s never be empty! We
can see (hem retire; there is no expression on
their faces ; but the black eyes glitter, and they
stroke their awful beards. The dark boat cross-
es the lane of bronzed sunshine; it become:', more
and more dusky as it nears the shore; it vanish-
es into the mist. And what is this now, close at
hand ?—
"Saint oE this tii?cn isle, hear our prnyeis —
Oh, f,'rant us cool lieaveiis and iavorini; airs!"

Vanderdecken, farewell! There will be solemn
laughter in the hills to-night.

But there is no romance about this German
cx-lieiitenaut, who exhibits an unconscionable
audacity in talking to any bodv and every boi'.y,
not excepting the man at tin; wiivci himself, and
of course "he has been asking what this s'raiige
atiiiospheric phenomenon meant.

" 11a !" he says, coming along, "do you Ixiiow
what it is, this strange mist ? It is the forest.' on
(ire^for miles and miles and miles — away over
in New .lersey and in IVnnsylvauia, and it has
b 'cn going on for weeks, so that the whole air is
filled with the smoke. Do you smell it now "
And tliere is not enough wind to curry it away:
no, it lies about here, and you think it is a thun-
der-storm. But it is not always — I mean every
where; and the capt.iiii says tliere is not any at
West I'oint, which is very good indeed. And it
Is very beautiful there, every one says; and the
hotel is high up (m the hill."

In the mean time this mvstical river had been

GREEN PASTl'JtES AXD VICCADILLY.

gettiiif; hroador, iiiitil it suddenly jiixsentod itself
to us ill the form of a wide and apparent ly cireu-
lar lake, siirrounded with mountains, ttie wooded
slopes of w'lieh dcseonded abniptly to the shores,
and were there lost in a wilderness of roeks and
bushes. Do you wonder that Bell called out,

" It is the Holy Loch ! Shall we go ashore at
Kilniun ■"'

And then the river narrowed again, and the
waters were very green ; and of course we be-
thought ourselves of the Rhine, flowing rapidly
along its deep gorge.

Or was it not rather one of the shores of the
Lake of (Jeneva ? Look at the pieturescpie little
villas stuck over the roeks, amidst the bushes and
trees, while the greens seem all the more intense
that the sun out there in the west has become a
rayless orl) of dusky and crimson fire — as round
and red and dull a thing as ever appeared in a
Swiss lithograph. It never seenud to occur to
any of us that, after all, this was not the Holy
Loch, nor the Rhine, nor the Lake of Geneva, but
simply the river Hudson.

And yet we could not help reverting to that
Rhine fancy when we landed on the little wooden
l)ier, and entered a high hotel omnibus, and weie
dragged by two scraggy horses up an exceeding-
ly steep and dusty road to a hotel planted far
above the liver, on the front of a plateau and
amidst trees. It was a big, wide hotel, mostly
tiuilt of wood, and with verandas all round ; and
there were casements to the bedroom windows;
and evi'iy wliere in the empty and resounding
corridors an odor as of food cooked with a fair
amount of oil. We threw open one of these
casi'uieuts. There was a blaze of fire in the
west. The woo. led hills were of a dark preen.
]"ar b'liiw us flowed the peaceful river, with a
faint mist gathi'ring on it in the shadows.

Then by-aiid-by we deseended to the large,
bare-walled, bare-floored, but brilliantly liglitecl
saloon, iu which the guests were assembling for
dinner; and now it was no longer the Rhine, for
the first object that struck the eye was the sharp
contrast between the dazzling white of the ta-
bles and the glossy lilack faces and heads of the
waiters. From this time forward, it may here
1)0 said, we began to ac(iuire a great liking for
those colored folk, not from any political sym-
pathy, for we were but indifferently tierce poli-
ticians, but simply because we found Sambo, so
far as we had ilie honor of making his acquaint-
.ince, remarkaliiy good-natured, attentive, cheer-
ful, and courteous. There was alway.s an cle-
ment of surprise about Samlio, the solemn black
bullet head suddenlv showing a blaze of white
teeth, as he saiil " Yes, Sah !" and " Yes; malim !"
and laughingly went off to execute orders which
he had never in the least understood. There
was so much of the l»ig baby about him, too.
It is (piite certain that (^ueen T deliberate-
ly made the most foolish blunders in asking
for things, in order to witness (he suppressed
and convulsive amusement of these huge chil-
dren ; and that, so far from her being annoyed
by their laughing at her, she was delighted by it,
and covertly watched them when they thought
they were unobserved. She was extremely tickled,
too, by the speech of some of them, which was a
great deal nearer that of Mr. Bones, of St. James's
Hall, than she had at all expected it would be.
In fact, in the privacy of her own clianiljcr she

endeavored once or twice — But this may be
read by her boys, who have enough of their
mother's wicked and irreverent ways.

Then, after dinner, we went out to the chairj
on the wide and wooden balcony, high up here
over tlie still-flowing river, in the silence of the
hot, still, dark night. A gray haze lay along the
bed of the stream ; the first stars overhead were
becoming visible. Far away behind us stretched
those dusky hills into which the solemn Dutch-
men had disappeared. Were they waiting now
for the first glimmer cf the moon befoi'e coming
out to begin tl oir ghostly carouse? Oould we
call to them, over the wide gulf of space, and
give them an invitation in our turn ? "Ho I ho!
Vanderdeeken — Hendrick Hudson — whatever
they call you — uome, you and your gloomy troop,
down the hill-sides and through the valleys, and
we will sing you a song as you smoke your clays!
The dogs shall not bark at you ; and the children
are all in bed; and wlien you liave smoked and
drank deep, you will depart in peace I Ho! ho!
—Ho! ho!"

Could we not hear some echo from those mys-
tic hills y — a rumble of thunder, perhaps?

" Listen !" called out our Bell — but it was not

the hoarse resjionse of Vanderdeeken that she

heard — ''there it is again, in among the trees

i there. Don't you hear it? Katv-did ! Katy-did!

Katy-di<l !"

And by-and-by, indeed, the hot, still night air
became filled with these calls in the dark; and
as we watched the moon rise over the hills, our
fancies forsook the ghostly Dutchmen, and were
busy about that mysterious and distant Katy,
whose doings had so troubled the mind of this
poor anxious insect. What was it, then, that
Katy did that is never to be forgotten? Was it
merely that she ran away with some gay young
sailor from o\ "r the seas, and you, you misera-
ble, envious, cci.iorious creature, you must neeils
tell all the neighbors, and give the girl no peace?
And when she came back, too, witli her husband
the skipper, and her five bonny boy.«, and when
ihey both would fain have settled down in their
native village, she to her spinning-wheel, and he
to his long clay and his dram, you would not even
then let the old story rest. Katy-did ! Katy-did !
And what then ? Peace, you chatterer, you tell-
tale, you scandal-monger, or we will take you to
be the im])risoned spirit of some deceased and
des])icable siandc! t. condenmed forever to haunt
the darkness oi wv night with your petulant,
croaking cry.

Ho ! ho ! ^ lerdeeken ! Can not you send us
a faint halloo? The moon is high over the hills
now, and the wan light is pouring down into the
valli;ys. Your <lark figures, as you come out from
the rocks, will throw sharp shadows on the while
roads. Why do you draw your cowls over your
face ? The night is not chilly at all, and there is
no one to see you as you pass silently along.
Ho! ho! VanderdcckiMi! The night is clear. Our
hands shall not tremble as we lift the bowl to you.
Can not you send us u fuint halloo ?

" Saint of this green isle, hear our prayers—
Oh, grant H» cool henvens and favoring aira!
Hlow, breezes, blow! the Btroam rung fast,
The rnpiilH are near, and the daylight's pustl"

Or is it the tiaklmg of the sheep bells on our

!ut this may be
iiough of their
rays.

lit to the chairj
y, high up here
e silence of tiie
ze lay along the
i overhead were
ind us stretched
solemn Dutch-
ey waiting now
1 befoi'c coming
ise? Oould we
f of space, and
rn V " Ho ! hot
son — whatever
ir gloomy troop,
the valleys, and
loke your clays !
md the children
ive smoked and
;ace! Ho! ho!

From those mys-
porhaps V
-but it was not
Icckcn that she
mong the trees
•-did! Katy-did!

t, still night air

the dark ; and

er the hills, our

linien, and were

J distant Katy,

le mind of thij

s it, then, that

ottcn ? Was it

ome gay young

ou, you misera-

you must needs

; girl no peace f

til her husband

boys, and when

1 down in their

;-whiH'I, and he

woulil not even

lid ! Katy-did I

ittcrcr, you tell-

vill take you to

deceased and

orever to haunt

your petulant,

not you send us
h over the hills

down into the
I come out from
vs on the white
owls over your
ill, and there is

silently along,
it is clear. Our
he bowl to you.

ir prayers—
favoring airs !
rung fast,
yliglifs past I"

!p bells on our

GREEN PASTURES JiSD PICCADILLY.

Surrey downs, with the sunlight shining on the
.-|iire of the church, and the children walking
hetwcen the hedges, the blue sky over all ? Or
is it the clear, sweet singing of the choir that we
hear — falling on the grateful sense like the cool
plashing of running watery (Jlooniy iihantoms
have no place on our Suricy downs ; the air is
blight there; there is a sound us. of some one

singing.

■»»»»»•

Katy-did! Katy-did ! Was it on such a nijrht
as this that she stole away from her home, and
looked pale and troubled as she tied along the
lonely road to the side of the stream ? See how
the moon lights up the dusky sides of the liills,
and touches the rounded foliage oV the woods,
and flashes a bold line of silver across the broad,
smooth river ! There are othe • lights dc wn there,
too — the colored lights of moving boats. And
will she step on board with a (piick, hurried,
trembling foot, and hide her pale face and stream-
ing eyes in her lover's arms V Farewell, farewell
to the small, empty room and its flowers ; tare-
well to the simple life and the daily task ; for the
great, eager, noisy world lies all ahead, unknown
and terrible. Swiftly speeds the boat through
the moonlight and the mist — there is no sound as
it iioes — not even a faint and parting cheer from
Vanderdecken and liis merry men as they sol-
emnly gaze down from the hills.

It is the lieutenant who rouses us from our
dreams.

" Lady Sylvia," says he, " you know the Rhine
—were you ever at RolandseekV Do not you
think this place is very like Rolan<lseck ?"

For a second or two she could not answer.
Had she ever been to Rolandseck on the Rhine !

CHAPTER XXXIL

OCB UANCH- WOMAN.

Far away in the north, where the sea is — the
real sea, not the decoction of chalk we liavj
aroun<l most of our southern Engli.sh shores — the
small boy sits on the I'ocks, over the clear deep,
and carefully baits his hook (live a penny from
the village grocer). As soon as he has hidden
the bine barb with a crisp white bit of cockle,
or with a slice from a spout-fish, or with a mus-
sel of tawny orange and brown, he lowers it
into the beautiful water, where nothing is as yet
visible but the wavering outline of the rocks, and
the moving purple of the sea-weed, and mayhap
the glimmer of a star-fish on the sand at un-
known depths below. Then suddenly, from the
li(iuid darkness around, comes sailing in, with
just one wave of its tail, a saithe ! — and the eager
eyes of the fisherman follow every movement of
his prey, ready to prompt the sudden twitch.
But now the fish begins to play the hypoci'itc.
He does not at all make straight for the tempt-
ing morsel suspended there, but glides this way
and that by the side of it, and under it and over
it, pretending all the while to pay no attention to
it whatsoever. Occasionally he seems to alter
his mind ; he makes a dart at the bait, coming
right on with his eyes staring and his moutli
agape, and then, again, the* youthful fisherman
says something about vkh-un-dhiaoul as he sees

the narrow green back of the saithe shoot down
again into the deeps. But the doom is near and
certain.

Now this was the way in which our Bell pro-
ceeded to take possession of that tempting proji-
erty that was waiting for her at Colorado. She
^ was never tiled of sngge.'^ting that we should go
; to this plaei; and tliat place, rather than that her
■ legitimate curiosity should be satisfied as to her
! new home. Her eyes went down to New Or-
leans, and then went up to Montreal, but were
' scarcely ever turned due west. And when we,
j who rather feared that .she was proposing these
diversions for our sakes alone, reiiioustrated with
her, and pointed out that she would have aiiiplo
\ opportunity of visiting the great lakes and (."ana-
da on her way back at tlie expiry of her year of
j banishment, you should have seen the liglu tiiat
came suddenly into her face. She seemed already
to imagine herself free.
I "Take a roundabout way home?" exclaimed
i the young matron, v.ith proud eyes. "I think
\ not. The moment my year is out, you will see if
I don't come home straighter than any crow that
ever flew. If I could only go up to the top of
the mountains — and spread my w iiigs there — and
make one swoop across the plains, and another
swoop across the Atlantic — "

"Stopping at New York, jf course, for a
biscuit."

" — you would see how soon I should be in
England. Just fancy the first evening we shall
spend all together again. Lady Sylvia, you will
come to us that eveniiigV"

" I hope so,' said Lady Sylvia, with a startled
look — she had been dreaming.

And so, in pursuit of these idle vagaries we
left West Point and ascended the Hudson a bit
by boat, and then landed and got into a train
which most kindly kept by the side of the river
as it whirled us along. The carriage was a com-
fortable one, with arm-chairs on pedestals by the
window-s and with small tables for our books,
fruit, and what not ; and while the lieutenant
had passed along to the smoking-car to have a
cigar .nnd some iced drink on tills blazing hot
day, the women-folk amused themselves by spread-
ing out on the talile a whole store of trinkets be-
longing to a youthful merchant attached to the
car, and by selecting a vast number of perfectly
useless presents for people at home. It was an
agreeable occupation enough, to connect the
names of those who were far away with those
bits of ivory and photograph frames and puzzli.'s ;

and Queen T faithfully undertook 'o deliver

all these little gifts with appropriate ...essages.
The representation that they were going to carry
those trumpery things about with them all over
America, that their boxes would be encumbered,
that the things themselves would be lirokeii, and
that the proper time for purchasing presents was
just before sailing from New York, met with that
absolute indifference which was generally accord-
ed to the advice of a person who had by this time
subsided into the position of being a mere chron-
icler of the doings of the party, and who had
found out that in this land of liberty it was as
uns.ife for him to open his mouth as it was in
his own home in England.

" My dear Lady Sylvia," said Que^n T , as

this Swiss-looking railway-car was rumbling along
toward Saratoga through a dusty and wooded

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

IJiiflulo Jack, '
would pay ii') lict
via was licai li to
woman in connii
res|)C'L't ratJHT t'

doullt luaiil r-ollll!

country timt looked parched enough under the
blue sky, " I giioss I feel just real mean."

Laily Sylvia's eyes asked what thiij extraordi-
nary languafri! meant.

"Don't you?'" she continued. "Here are we
going into Saratoga in the company of a ranch-
woman, a farmeress, a stock-raiser, a bowie-kiiifor.
Wliat was it tin; judge said in New York about
Saratoga ':' — timt we should lind there ' a blazu of
wealth, heauiy, and culture such as was not to be
found in any capital in Europe ^ and of course it
would have been Had enough in any case for us
sinii)le country-folk to go into sucli a whirl (if
fasiiionable lilo ; liut witli one of the w lid desper-
adoes of Colorado — v.Iiat will they lliiiik of usV"

" I guess you want a tarnation lickin',"' said the
stock-raiser, calmly. " Duffalo Jack, where's my
oowhiilc';'"

ing immersed in time-tables,
o her nonsense ; but Lady Syl-
that ihe conduct of a ranch-
o Saratoga was deserving of
riilicule, for she would no
.ng of nuiiniers before going
back to her bowie-knives and cattle. ,

What, tiieii, was this l)ig, busy town through
which we drove, with its broad thoroughfares,
deep dust, green tree", and huge hotels?

We loo' at the jewelers' shops and the caj'i.i
and the promenadci.-, and one cries out, " iladcu-
Baden !"

We catch a glimpse of some public gardens and
colored lamps and avcriucs, a''d unothci calls out, '
" It is Kreu/.nacli, and the ba. playing!"

We whirl along another spa^ ihnroughfaro,
and a third calls out, " It is the Boulevard I'ois- ;
sounieru !'' when it is mildly suggested that, afLcr
all, this may be lu) moie Kreuznach than the Iltid- ,
son was the Khiue, aiul that it might be belter,
on the whole, to tall it Saratoga.

Jt was with gi'eat diilidenee that we ascended
the steps of the monster hotel, and found our-
selves ill a lai'gi; central hall. We were con- ;
scions that we weie travel stained, and had siaree- !
ly sullicient moral courage to ask the eleri: (or
rooms. We knew that the smart young ni .'u '
standing around were regarding us ; and c h I so
snowy were their wiiite neck-tics, w liicli they wore
in tiie middle of the day. And then, to make
matters worse, this pernii:ious ranch-uoinan had |
doimeil in the morning a costume of light blue i
serge, in which she had done some yachting the
year liefore; and we kncvv, though wi- dared not
look, that there must bestaiiis of the salt sea foam
on it. Finally, our inward lage and huiniliatton
were complete when, ha\ii.;' been furnished with
GUI' ki ys, we entered the lift to l>e conveyed to t'le
floors above; lor here w(; found ourselves eon-
fronte I by three young ladies — but the human
imagination refuses to iee,iii the splendor of the
attire of these aiigids in human form. Each of
them had a jeweh'r's sho'; on her hands

However, we dried our c} 's lu sei r t, and made
as brave an apperiiiuc i's pv>ssit>'(; w'a ;• we as-
sembled togetlier ii. the r^iUin'i bel'iw,

"Look here, child," f'".id (*:uy'i T-— - U< our
ranch-woui.tn, is she liii"d a wiiiti' '' jec roin
the table. ' Jo you sec ilid V Tii.ii- is a fork.
You take it in your left hanii, a'l:! vo". lift your
foflil to your mouth with it, in8t>.:id ef with your
fingers, as you have been accu'-; juicd."

"It's a thorough good lickin y ju want" said

this child of nature, doggedly. It was all we
; could get out of her.

I Then we went out for a drive ; and a niiglitj
fine show we inado, with our green gauze curtains
to kee|) out the dust, and irith our two hums.
The lieutenant was perched up beside the driver,
Occasionally he disappeared from our sight alto-
gether, hidiien away by the dense clouds of brown
dust that came rolling in the wake of .some ciir-
riage. And the further we went out into the
country, the deeper the dust in the roads ajjpoar-
ed 10 liecome, until our (Jernian friend had as-
sumed the guise of a baker, and there was scarce-
ly any difference between the color of his hat, liis
beard, and his coat. But we cairic to our jour-
ney's end at last, for we reached a series of deep
gu'hes in the sand ; and in each of these gullic-:,
which were a good bit apart, were some more or
less temporary buildings, mostly of wood; and at
each of them we found a gentleman in a tall lilack
hat, who in the most courteous manner offered us
a glass of the saline water ho was prepared to
sell, informed us of its chemical (pialities, pre.
sented us with a prospectu^• ■ ' his company, and
was generally most affabu,. It was a terrible
temptation. We might have remained there all
day, thinking gallons of the water — for iiotliiiii;.
Anil indeed we began to pii le ourselves on our
connoisseurship , an 1 if the ju'esent writer hail
only the v.irious pro.- peet uses by him at present,
he could pick out the particular s|)ring which we
tinainmously declared to be the linest. We liail
to tear oi'rselves away

'■ After all," s.ui! lleil. witli a sig'i, " they man-
age these things lii'Mi i- at Caii-bad."

Then we diMve :rw;\ 'igaiii tliiough the IhieJ!
sand and in luinc^s of time foiind oiirsidves on
the liioad, bare avinue wliieli leads out to Sara-
toga Lake. And here wc found ourselves sliil
fuilher ashamed, net wii list, .udiug our two horses,
])\ the fashion in winch the people shot by us in
their light litlle e.irioles, their ;oes perched up,
their swift little trotters appiiren'.l runiiingaway
with them. In spite of tiie dust, we could see
the diamonds (lashing on the Hngccs ami shirts
and neckties of the brown-faced, t)row'n-bear(Ie'l
gentlemen who appeared to have ue right up
from California We readied tl. ;akc, too — a
large, calm extent of silvery gray water, bccomiii!,'
S(unewliat melancholy in tlu; evening light. We
gathered some dowcr.s, and bethought ourselves
of another lake, set far away among lonely woou.',
that \. _■ Irid seen in the by-gone day.s.

"Once upon a (ip;H>," says Queen T , as we

arc standing on ;he height, and looking abroad
over the expanse of water, " I can remember there
were two young jicopii; sailing out on a lake like
this in a small boat in the moonlight. And oi.c
of them proposed to give up his native country
in order that he might many an English gi 1.
And ! Iliink it is the same girl that has now to
uive up her native country — for a time — for the
sake of her children. Were you ever at Ellcs-
nere, Lidy Sylvia V"

Lady Syhia had irn'er been to Ellesinero, but
she guessed w by tlic-'C things were .'ipoken of. As
for Bell, .sill! was putting the gathered flowers in
a book ; they were for her ehiidren.

We drove back to dine in the largo saloon,
with its flashing lights and its troop of black
waiters. We were Hiore than ever imprjssed by
the beautiful attire and the jewelry of the ladieo

(.iii:k.\ rASTLUEs and piccadillv.

It was all we

; niul a iiiiulity

II gaiue L'lirtiiiiis
our tiro /loyms,

L'side tlio driver,
1 our sij;lit idto-
L'louds of brown
k(2 of some an-
lit out into tlie
le roads apppur-
friLMid iiad as.
iiere was scarro-
or of ids liat, iiis
.uiO to our jour-
a series of (ici'p
of tiiesi! Ridlics,
•L' souio luori' or
jf wood ; mill at

III in a tall lilatl;
aiiner offered us
vas jH'e|)ared to
il {[ualities, pvi
is ooiuiiany, and
, was a ten-ilile
ruaiiied there all
er — for uolliiii;,'.
lurselves on our
'Sent writer liail

him at present,
spriii;; which «o
liiiest. We had

;ii;Ii, " lliev man-
ia'd."

irouijli the thiili
lid oursi.'lves on
,uIa out to Saia-
d ourselves still
i; our two liorsis,
de shot by us in
oes peivlied up,
1; running away
St, wo eould s^'e
4ors and shirt<
brown-l)earded
-le I'ijiht up
tl, ;.ike, too — a
water, beeoiiiiii!,'
niii^ light. Wo
ought ourselves
iig lonely wool I.-,
day,s.

en T , as we

looking abroad
remember tlieio
It on a lake like
ight. And oi,c
; native country
111 English gii
that has now to
a time — for the
u over at EIlos-

Ellesnierc, but
spoken of. As

hercd Howers in

en,

le hirgc saloon,
troop of black

er imprjssed by

Iry of the ladico

x.\ 1 ,L.'f:iili'iiien who wore living in Saratoga; and
ill the i\eiiiiig, when all the doors of the saloons
were tii.'owii o|)eu, and when the band began to
play in the s(|iiare insidu the hotel, and when
iliL'se fashionable people began to iiroiiieiiade
along the balcony wliieli runt? all round the in-
traui'ral space of grass and trees, we were more
!'•■.. t er reminded of some evening eiitertain-
me i!. in a Parisian public garden. Our plainly
dressed woineu-folk were out of place in this gay
throng that paced up and down under the brill-
iant lamps. As for our ranch-woman, she affect-
ed to care nothing at all for the music and this
bright spectacle of people walking about the bal-
cony in the grateful coolness of the summer night,
but went down the steps into the garden, and
busied herself with trying to find out the wliere-
iibouts of a katydid that was sounding his inces-
sant note in the darkness. What was it they
played? Probably Olfenbach ; but we did not
lieed much. The intervals of silence were pleas-
autcr.

But was it not kind of those two gentlemen,
both of wdiom wore ample frock-coats and straw
hats, to place theii chairs just before us on the
lawn, so that we eould not but overhear their con-
versation? And what was it all about?

" Pennsylvania's alive — jest alive," said the eld-
er of the two. " The minc-s are reddiot — yes, Sir !
You should hive heerd me at Maiich Oliunk —
twe".ty tliousand people, and a barbecue in the
woods, and a whole ox roasted — biggest tidiig
since 'Tiiipecaiio.' anu Tyler too.' When I told
'cm that the blo.ited bond-holders robbed 'em of
llieir hard-ea-.-ned wages, to roll in wealth, and
di'i!ss in purple an<l line linen, like Solomon in all
his glory, aiii.' tlie lilies-ol'-the-valley, you should
have heerd 'ciii shout. 1 thought they would tear
their shirts. The lioiid is the sliarp-p'inted stick
to poke up the people."

"And h.ow about Philadelphy ?'* says the other.

" Well, I was not ((uile so hefty there There's a
heap of bonds in P!>iladelphy ; and there's no use
ill arousing ])rejudice.< — painful feelings — inisiin-
dcrstaiidings. It ain't polities. What's good for
one sile ain't good for another silo. You sow your
seed as v,he land lays; that's polities. Where
people hain't go no bonds, there's where to go in
heavy on the bond-holders. But in Phihdelphy
I give it to 'em on reform, and eori'upiion, and the
Jays of the Revolution that . i. i men's souls, and
that sort o' thing — and wisl-'iJ .ve had Wa--,hing-
toii back again. That's always a tremendous
p'iiit, about Washington ; and when people are
skittish on great (luestions. you fall back on the
Father of his Country. You see — "

" But Washii'.gton's dead," objected the dis-
ciple.

"Of course he's dead," said the other, triumph-
antly ; " and that's why he's a living issue in a
canvass. In polities the deader a man is, the
more you can do with him. He can't talk back."

" And about Massachusetts now V" the humble
inipiirer as'- '.

"Well, tlu.^„ Yankee.'} don't take too much
stock in talk. You can't do much with the bonds
iind corruption in Massachusetts. There you toui^h
'em up on whiskey and the nigger. The evils of
intemperance and the oppressions of the colored
brother, those are the two bowerp in Massachu-
setts "

"Rhode Island?"

"Oh, well, Rhode Island is a one-horse State,
wliere every body pays taxes and goes to church ;
and ail you've got to do is to worry 'em about the
Pope. Say the I'ope's eonuii' to run the niachiiie.''

Then these two also relapse into silence, and
we are left free to pursue our own siieeulations.

And indeed our chief inaiiagLress and luoni-
tress made no secret of her wi.«li to lea', e Sarato-
ga as soon as possdile. We had taken it en route
out of mere curiosity ; it was obvious to her that
she could gain no moral here to jireaeh at the
head of her poor pupil. These lights and gay
costumes and languid (luadrilles were the mere
glorification of idleness ; and slu; had bronglit
this sufTeriiig one to America to show liei — in
our rapid transit from |)laccto (dace — something
of the real hardships that huniun nature had to
light against and endure, the real agony that
parting and distance and the struggle for life
could inflict on the sons and the daughters of
men. Saratoga was not at all to her liking.
There was no head for any discourse to be got
out of it. Onward, onward, was her cry.

So it was that on the next day, or the next
again, we bade farewell to this gay haunt of
pleasure, and set out for grimmer latitudes. We
were bound for Bosloii. Here, indeed, was a
fruitful theme for discourse ; and duiiiig the long
h(>i" as Hc rolled through a soiniwhat Bava-
okiiig country — with white wooden houses
sei/ amid that per[ietual wooden fori'sl that faded
away into the hills around the hoii/on — we heard
a great deal about the trials of the caily settlers
and their noble fortitude .md self-i clianee. You
would have fancied that this kciuiiss was a pas-
sionate Puritan in her syiiriathies; tliougli we
who knew her better were v ell aware that she
Iiad a sneaking liking for gorj eons ritual, and that
she would have given her tars to bo allowed to
introduce a crucifix into our re. peetalil;; village
church. That did not matter. The stern man-
ners and severe discipline of the refugees were at
the moment till she could admire, and somehow
we began to feel that, if it had not lieen for our
gross tyranny and oppression, the Maiijlowcr
would never have sailed.

But a graver lesson still was to be read to us. AYe
could not understand why, after a time, the train
was continually being stojiped at short intervals,
and we naturally grew imiialieiit. The daylight
left us, and the lights in the carriage were not
bright enough to allow us to read. We were ex-
cessively hungry, and were yet many miles away
from Bii-i.iu. We had a right to speak bitterly
of this business.

Then, as the stojipages became more lengthen-
ed, and we had speech of people on the line, ru-
mors began to circulate through the carriages.
An accident had happened to tiie train just ahead
of ours. There was a vague impression that some
one had been killed, but nothing more.

It was getting on toward midnight when we
passed a certain portion of the line ; and here
the place was all lit up by men going about with
lanterns. There was a sound of hamniering in
the vague ob.scurity outside this sphere of light.
Then we crept into the station, and there was an
excited air about the people as they conversed
with each other.

And what was it all about? Queen T

soon got to know. Out of all the people in the
trahi, only one had beei. killed — a young girl of

(IREKN I'ASTLKES AND PICCADILLY.

fifteen: she wns traveliiiijj with her father and
niothur; they had not been hurt at all. The
corpse was in a room in the station ; the parents
were there too. They said she was their otily
diild.

We went on af;ain ; and sonieliow there was
now no more complaining over the delay. It
WHS |)ast midiiiiilit when we reached Boston,
The streets looked lonely enough in the dark-
ness. But we were thinking less of the great
city we had just entered than of the small coun-
try station set far away in the silent forest, where
that father and mother were sitting with the dead
body of their child.

CHAPTER XXXin.

AN INROAD OK rALK-KAt'ES.

BiTT we were not always to ho preached at by
this miniature Madame Solomon. We had not
come tiirce or four thousand miles to be lectured
up hill and down dale. Even our stern teacher
herself forgot her moralities when, after a long
night's rain, Boston leceived us with breezy blue
skies, cool winds, and a tiashiiig sunlight that
broke ou the stirring trees. We breathed once \
n.ore. after the beat of New Wirk and the dust j
«n' Saratoga. We walked along the pavements, [
and, as we had always b<;cu told that Boston was j
pe.'-liarly English, we begiiu to jiereeive an En-
glish breadth of frame ou the part of the men, an ,
Englisii freshness of couiplexiuu on tiie i)art of '
the women. We shut our eyes to tlie f;ut that '
the shops were njoie the sliO|is of IJ'.ussils tli;iu :
of Briglitou. f M'ely tliese were Eiij.iisl: clouds :
that swiftly crossed the siiv ; Kiiglisi) trees and i
parks that shone fair in their grceuue.s; an En-
glish lake that was riiijiling iu waves Int'oiC the
brisk breeze? Anil then, ag lin, av ay liowii in.
till! business part of the city, ami. 1 tail warehouses
and great blocks of stores, lio \ comM v.e fail to
notice that that was tiie .\tl:iii:ic its;.>lf w'.'.'vAx we
suddenly caught gliui;iM>s of at tlie end of the
thorouglifares, jn>t as if some one, tired of the
perpetual gray and red of the houses, had taken
a huge brush and dashed in a stroke of brilliant
cobait across the narrow opening V

" Ships go f lom here to England, do they not V"
asked Lady .'Sylvia once, as we were (hiving uy a
bit of the harlior.

"Certainly."

S!ie was looking ralher wistfully at tlie blue
water, and the moored suauieis, and the smaller
craft that were sailing about.

" In a fortnight one could l)e back in Liver-
pool V"

" Doubtless."

But here oin" Bell broke in, li\yiug her hand
gently on the hand of her fiiend.

"Viiu nuist not thiidv of going back already,
Tiad\ Syh ia," <lie .^aid, with a smile. " We have
got to show you all the winders of our Western
country yet. How^ inuM yon go back witiu)Ut
Bceiofj a bnffalo-liunt V"

"Oh," said >lii- hastily — and the beautiful pale
face flushed somewhat — "I was not thinking of
that. It was a mere fancy. It seems so long
since we left Eiiglaiul, and we have come so
great a way, that it is strange to think one
could bo back in Surrey in a fortnight."

" We can not allow you to play truant, you

know," said Queen T , in her gentle way.

" W hat would "ivery one say if we allowed you to
go back witho.t seeing Niagara?"

" I assure you I was not thinking of such a
thing," said Lady Sylvia, seriously, as if she were
afraid of grievously offending Niagara. " Would
not every one laugh if I were to sliow homesick-
ness so soon ;■"'

But, all the same, we could see that she never
looked at these blue waters of the Atlantic with-
out a certain wistfidness ; and, as it happcneJ,
we were pretty much by the sea-side at this time.
P'or first of all we went down to Manchester — u
small, scattered, picturesque watering-place over-
looliing Massachusetts Bay, the Swiss-lookiu<;
cottages of wood dotted down any where oti the
high roeks above the strand. And when the
wild sunset had died out of the western skies —
the splendid colors had been blinding oin' sight
until we turned for refu.ije to the dark, intense
greens of the trees in shadow — we had our chairs
out (m the veranda, up here on the rocks, over
the sea. We heard the splashing of the wave.s
below We could vaguely make out the line of
the land miming away out to Cape (^)d ; and now
tlu! twin lights of the Sisters began to shoot their
or.mge rays into the pur|)le dusk. Then the moon
rose ; and the Atlantic grew gray ; and there wa.s
a jiale radiance on the rocks around us. Our
good friends talked much of England that long,
still, beautifid night; and now it seemed a place
very far apart fnuu us. that we should scarcely
be able to recognize when we saw it again.

Then wt^ wi'iii ui see some other friends at
Newport, aniviug just ni time to get a glimpsi;
of the afli'inoon drive before the people and
thei\- smart little vehu les di^ap)le;\led into thii<o
spacious gardens iu winch the villas were paitlv
hidden. The ne\i moiumg we drove lound liy
the sea; and now t!u' sun was burning on the al-
most smooth watei', and there was a frish smell
of sea-weed, and the tiny ripples curled crisp ami
white along the pebbly bays. Our liell l)ei;iUi to
|)iaise the sea. Here was no eliurned chalk ; but
the crystal sea-water of the northern shoro that
she loved. And when >he turned her eyes itilanil,
and found oerasioual glimpses of moorland anil
roek, she appealed to Lady Sylvia to say if she
did luit (liitik it was like scune part (jf Seotlaml,
altliough, to be sure, there was no heather lu're.

"I have never beeti in Seotland," said Lailtr
Sylvia, gently, and looking ilown, "1—1 aliuust
thought we should havi' gone this year."

There was no tremor at all in her voice ; she
had liiavely iK.'rved herself on the .spur o.{ the
moineut.

" Vou must go ne:;t year; Mr Balfour will l)e
so proud to show his native coutitry to you," said

t^icen T , very demur dy ; but we others couM

see soitie strange meaiuiig in her eyes — sonio
((uiek, full e.xitression of confident triumph auJ
.i<'.v.

And how is it possible to avoid some brief but
grateful mention of the one beautiful day we
spent at Cambridge — or, rather, outside Cam-
bridge — in a certain garden there? It was a
Sunday, fair and calm and sweet-scented, for
there were cool winds blowing through the trees,
and bringing the odors of flowers into the shad-
owed veranda. Was not that bit of landscape
ove>' there, too^the soft green bill with iti

)lny truant, you
icr gentle wuy,
J allowed you to

king of such a
', us if she were
gara. " Would
iliow homesitk-

that she never
e Atlantic with-
lis it happeiK-d,
ido at this tiniu.

Munehestor — u
ring-place over.
! Swiss-lookinj;
ly where on the
And when the
ivestern skies —
nding our sight
le dark, intense;
a had our chairs

the rocks, ovlt
ig of the waves

out the line of
eOod; and now
n to shoot their

Then the nioiiu
; and there wxs
round us. Our
;land that loug,

si'i'Uied a place
slioidd scarcely
I' it again,
ithcr friends at

get a glinipHo
the puo[)le and
■'iu'd into tliii'io
lias were partly
tlrove round by
riling on the al-
ls a fresh suK'll
■uried crisp and
IV Hell hcijan to
rued chalk ; but
u'rn shores tliat
her eyes inland,
f moorland and
ia to say if she
art of Scotlaud,

1 heather here,
and," said fjady

"I— I aliuost
i year."
her voice ; slie
he spur o.f the

Balfour will tw
iry to you," said
we others could
ler eyes — some
nt triumph and

I some brief but
:autiful day we
', outside Cam-
ere? It was a
3et- scented, for
rough the trees,
s into the shad-
jit of landscape
Q hill with it£

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

patches of tree, the hedges and fields, the breezy
blue sky with its floating clouds of white — u
pleasant suggestion of Surrey V There was one
sitting with us there who is known and well be-
loved wherever, all over the witle world, the En-
f;lish tongue is spoken ; and if that gracious
kindliiicss which seemed to be extended to all
tilings, animate and inanimate, was more partic-
ularly shown to our poor stricken patient, who
could wonder who had ever seen her sensitive
mouth and pathetic eyes ? Of whom was it
written —

"Sort as (leeceiidin? wings fell tlio calm of the hour i
on her spirit;
Soiiietliiiig within lier said, 'At lungtli thy trials are
ended'?' "

If she could not quite say that as yet, her sor-
idws were for the nionient at, least iii.piitcn, and
file sat content and pleased and gratetul. And
tiu'U we had dinner in an old-rasliioned room of
tlic olil-faslii(Mieil house, and inucli discourse of
i'doks ; liie mute listener, haviiii:; won the favor
ol ill, being far more freiiueiiliy addressed than
liny Jiody '•l:.^. The full iniion was shining on
the trees when we \, cut out into the clear night.
It was shining, too, on the Charles Uiver, when
ive had driven on along the white roail ; and
iicre, t)( course, we stopped to look at the won-
dcil'iil picture. For beyond this Hashing of silver
on the rippling water, the river was bounik'd by
a mass of lunises that were black as midnight
ill ilie sliadow ; and lii'ie and ibeie a dusky spire
vo-e sideiiiniy into the lainlM'ut sky, \vhilc down
hi'low tliere was a line ol' lamps burning in the
(lark like a string of rudily jewels. These were
tile only points of eolor, thnsi' pidnts oi' orange;
all (dse wiis blue and silver — a dream of Neiiiir.
What mole is to be said iibniit liosloii lud'nii'
we leave it for the mystic wiioils and lakes ol
('!iiiigaeligo(d\, w hose ghost we luipf to see emerge
iiniM ilie illin finest, in eoni|iaiiy vvilh that of the
h;iii|ile-inilided Deeisiayer V Weil, ii word must
!■ ■ siiid alioiit the great tlmui^lilfiilness of our
: 1.! friends there, who took us to see every

I u-..' and thing of note — cxeijit Bunker's liill.
'i'\v\ most scrupulously avoiiivU all niLiition of
Hunker's Hill, jiisl as a Seolebnian would riither
(lie tliiiii meiiiion Bannoekbiiru in the south;
.'iiul, to tell the truth, we never saw the place at
ail. This is mneli to be regretted; for the visit-
iiig of such scenes is most useful in refreshing
Hill's kiHiwledge of history; and indeed this
iiinili sy on the part of our Boston friends led to

II good deal of eonfusinn afterward, tor, one
evening up in ("anada, when Bell had been busy
with her maps, she siuldeiily erie(l out,

" Why, we never went to see Bunkin's Hill!"

"Xeitlier we did," was the niily.

" And it is close to Boston 1"

" Assuredly."

She remained in deep reflection for a moment
or two ; and then she said, in absolute iuno-
ceiiee,

'■ I do wonder thaf a nation that fought so
Well, North and .South, should show such a sensi-
tiveness as that. They never said a woril about
Hunker's Hill when we were at Boston. You
would have thought the hiiniiliation of that small
defeat was quite forgotten by this time ; for I am
quite sure the South would not speak about it,
and I am quite sure the North is as proud of
Stonewall Jackson now us the South cau be."

Stonewall Jackson ? — Bunker's Hill ? ,

" Wliat do you mean ?" said Queen T ■, se-
verely ; for she thought the young wife had taken
leave of her senses.

" Well," f<i»id she, simply, and rather ungram-
matically, " if the North was beaten, they fought
well enough afterward ; and when they can point
to such battles as Gettysburg, they lieed not bo
afraid of the South remembering Bunker's Hill
against them."

This was too awful. She was the mother of
two children. But we wrote to our friends iu
Boston, begging them in the future not to let
any of their English friends go through the town
without tcUing them what Bunker's liill was all
about.

Next, a word about the singular piu'ity of tho
atmospliere ; at mid-day, as we stood in Ilie street
or walked across the ("oninion, we c(Milii niako
out with the naked eye the planet Venus, shining
clear and brilliant in the blue overhead.

Finally, a word is to a eertaiu hotel. AVe had
gone there partly beeaiisi! it was eoiiiliieted on
the Kiiropeaii plan, and jiartly because it was said
to be the best in America, and we naturally
wanted to sei; what America could do in tiiat
way. We came to the eonelusiou that this lidtc)
was probably the best in America a genera I ion
ago, and that its owners, proud ol' iis repulatiou,
had determined that it should never be inler-
fered witli — not even by an occasional bromn.
It was our friend the I'lilan who waxed the neist
ferocious. lie came down in a tow erlng rage tho
first moriiiiig after our arrival.

"The best liolel in America y" he cried. "I
tell you, we have no room at all, it is a box; it
is a miserable lade, wiiliinit light; it is full of
mosiiuiliies ; it Imdis into a sort of well, over the
kitchen, and it is hotter than an oven; and the
noise ol' the (luarreliiig in the kiteliei\ ; anil I
think a woman dying of — what do you call it y
asthma V — in the next room — No, I will not
stay here another night for a ilioiisand pouiuis!"'

However, we pacified liini, and he did stay aii-
otlier night, and was riidily rewarded. He eanio
down on the seeond morning with a pleased air.
He had a sheet of wriliiig-pajier in his hand, on
which were displayed a niiniber of strange objcets.

"Ha!" said hi', with a proud smile, "it i.-, so
kind of them to let us know the secrets of the
American ladies. These things lie thick all over
the room; but they are very small, and you can
not easily see them for the dust. But they are
very strange — oh, very strange. Did you ever see
hair-pins so small as these '/"

He showed us a beautifid variety of these in-
teresting objects, some of them so minute as al-
most to be invisible to tho naked eye. Almost
eipially minute, too, were certain India-rubber
bands. Thon that tiny brush, tipped with black ;
what was that for? Surely the thousand virgina
of Cologne must have in turn inhabited this room,
to havf left behind them so many souvenirs.

" 'i^iu have no business with those things," said
Bell, angrily. " They don't belong to you."

" To whom, then ?" said he, meekly. " To the
Crown? Is it treasure-trove? But one thing I
know very well. When we go away from this
pretty hotel — from this, oh ! very charming hotel
— we will not shake the dust from our feet, be-
cause that would be quite unnecessary. They
have enough ; dou't you think ao ?"

GREEN PASTl'RES AND I'lCCADILfiV.

AdiI then wo set out on our trnvela once more ;
and (luring a louf; iind beiiutiful day went whirl-
ing iiwiiy northward through a rough, hilly, and
wooded country, intcrsi-ctcd by doep raviuos, and
HJiowing liuri' and tliere a clear stream rutming
along its (n-lihly bed. Here and there, too, on
the liilis till! woods were already bcginiiing to
show a yellow tinge; whil'' iit rare intt'rvals wo
desiri<'(l a niiiido that had aiUieipaled the glow-
ing eolnvs of the Indiiin .suniincr, and lieeoiiie like
11 Haiiie of rose-ieil lire among the dark gicen of
the pines. It was a pietiu'es((iie country ciioiigh
— this wilderness of rocks and streams and for-
est; and it might Inive been ])ossil)le to l>egin
unil JMiiigine the red men liack again in this wil-
drini'ss that they onee haunteil, but that, from
tine' to lime, we siiddeidy camiion a clearing that
nli(evcii a lot of hare wimmImi shanties, and the
chilli 'IS were til il llie place lejiiired in fOliie such
name a- ('iitliii:,sville. (.'uttiiigsville ! M'll p«'r-
haps, alier all, there is a titliess in things; iiiid
1( would lia\c been a worse sort of di scciiilioii
to steil (lue of the heaiitifiil Iiiiliaii names from
some neighboring stream iiiid tack il on to this
tag-iMg habitalion of s(piatliis.

The (^'eniiig sun was red I cliiiid (he dm I; gri'cn
of the trees when, at (ileiih's WalN, v . left the
raihv.iv, aiiil mounted on tlie tup of a huge co.n'li
set oil high .-piings. Away went the four horses ;
and we found ourselves swinging this way and
that as if we were l)eiiig liuiVcted about by the
live tides that meet oU' liie .Mull of Caiitire. It
was a )ileasant ride, nevertheless ; for it was now
the cool of the evening, and we were high above
the dust, and we were entering a couiilry nut only
beaitifid in itself, but steeped in all sorts of his-
torical and roiu.nitie tradiiiiiii. Far over there
on the right — the last spur of tlie Adironilacks —
w-i! the mountain held by the I'"iencli artillery to
Command the military road linoegh tlioe wilds,
and bearing the name of l-'ii'iieli .'•.', umiain to this
(lay. Ahead of us, hidden auay In tile dai'k
woods, was the too famous Ijloody I'ond. And
Fort William Henry? — of a surety, fiieiid, these
lovely damsels shiiU bo safely housed to-niglit,
a. id the dogs of Mingoes may carry the news to
Montcalm that his i)iry lias cseapi.'d him!

It was a plaiik-roiid that carried us away into
the forest, and the nionoto'ious fall of the horses'
hoofs was the only sound liiat broke 'he stillness
of the night and of the woods. The first stars
came out in the pale gray overhead. Our lamps
we're lit now; and there was a golden glory around
ns — a blaze in the midst of the |>revailiiig dusk.

Anil now the forest became still more dense,
and the road wound in an intricate fashion th 'ougli
the trees. For our part, we could see no path at
all. The horses seemed perpetually on the point of
rushing headlong into the forest, when lo ! u sharp
turn would reveal another hit ci road, it also
seeming to disappear in the woods. And then
the pace at which this chariot, with i^a blazing
aureole, went Hashing through the darkness !
Mile after mile we rattled on, and the dis'r,!it lake
was nowhere visible. Not thus did liie crafty
Unions steal thr(nigh these trees to dog die foot-
steps of the noble Delawares. We were almost
ashamed to think that there was no danger sur-
rounding us, and that ou;* chief regard was about
supper.

Suddenly there was a wilr" yell ahead, and at
tiie Hame moment a black, object dashed acrosa

the heads of our loaders, Then wc caught sight
of a vehicle underneath the lamps ; and there witg
a shout of laughter as It Hew onward after that
narrow escape. The sharp turn in the rcjud Imd
very nearly produeeij another massacre of pale,
faces in the neighborhood of Fort William ileiiry.
" I)o you remember that 'dght at Keswick r"
our riilaii said, wiih a laugh, "Tliat was near,
too; "as il not, madaiiie ? And now this gri'ai
coach — wc should have run clean over that wag.
oiietfe, us yiai (leseiibed tlie big steamers run-
ning over a Hiiiall schooner; and the driver, did
yon see how smart he was in taking his leaders
oil' the pi inks V It was very well done — very well
done; lie is a smart fellow, and I will give liiiii
aiiollier ci'.;ar, if it does i:ot annoy vou, L.uly
Svlvia."

" Il is very pl'asant in theniglif air," said our
eoiirleoiis guest. " .And iiide'd 1 am aeeuslonied
at home to the smell of pipes — wiiicli is a great

! deal Wiiise."

I And so Tlie f/ilaes was still Iwr home? She
helriiyi d no embiiii'in,"inent in .'^peaki;ig ol t!ie

, nest sin had (orsaki'M , bill (hen she was slieller-

j ed by the dai km ss of (/(e )iijthj.

I Tl'ielilll liif'l the long, deligMfid/l/'/vewnsdone,
and there was a greiil bla/.i' of lamps hvi'i' il //lOi'i
flight (d' slair.s and a s|/i(( ioiis hull. We (((ifped

' ladore wc ciilercd. Ilown theii' in (he dnsl,-, and
hemmed around by shadowy bills, lay (he .-ile/il

: waters of l..iikc (icoiL'e.

(MI.\PTF,I! vXXIV.

A co.MPi.Kri; iiisToi'.v or v.:s.\iik.

Till'!;!-; were two people standing at :\ window
and looking abroad over the troubled waters of
Lake (ii'inge — or Lake Iloricon,as they preferred
to call it — on this colorless and cheerless morn-
ing. The !-cene was a sad one enough For far
a..!'y the hills were pale niidiu' the clouded sky,
' and there were >vliite mists stealing over the
j sombre i'oresis, and the green islamls lay deso-
1 late in the midst of the leaden sea that plashed
coldly on their stony shores. Were they thiiik-
I ing — these two — as they watched the mournful
. grays of the morning change and interchaiigu
'with the coming and going of the rain -chnids,
that the great niolher Nature was herself wcep-
' ing for her red children gone away forever from
' this solitary lake atid these silent woods V Tliis
was their domain. They had lishi.'d in these wa-
ters, they had hidden in these dense forests
I from the glai'e cd' the sun, for ages before the
! ruthless invader had come from over the seas.
' Or was it of a later race that these two were
thinking — of ])ersoits and d(<eds that had first
! iiecome familiar to them in the pleasant suinmer-
j time, as the yacht lay becalmed on the golden
j afternoons, with the mountains of Skye grown
' mystical in the perfect stillness? Was it of Jii-
\ dith H utter, for example, ami Hurry Harry, and
1 the faithful Uncas, who had somehow got tliem-
j selves so mixed up with that idling voyage that
I one almost iinngined tht3 inhabitants of Tober-
mory would be found to address one as a pale-
face when the vessel drew near the shore ? One
of the two spoke.

" I think," said she, slowly — but there was a
peculiar proud light in her eyes — " I think I

vo caiiRht flight

; iiiul there wua

van! after tlmi

ill the voud Imd

issaerc of paic.

William IK'inv.

at Ki'swick .•"

That was iioiir,

now thit* jrriMi

over that wai^.

steaiuors riiii-

thc (iri\'er, did

iiif^ liiri leaders

lime — very well

1 will give him

iiiiiy you, Liidy

it ail','' fail! oiir
am aecusloiiicil
iiieii is a great

■r homey She
pealvi,!!; ol tlie
die WHS .-ilieller-

ilrivf was dour;
|i.i livhl' II /(I'mi
II. We (miiid
u Ihi' i|iisl(,aiKi
S lay (111' ¥(!«/((

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

■.'.NADA.

ig at .1 window
ililed waters of
lliey preferiod
iieeiii.'.-is moni-
Diigh Fijr far
le eloiided ."ky,
iiliiig over the
lands lay de.so-
-.\ that plashed
re tliey tliink-
the mournful
id iiiterehangu
e rain - eioud((,
; her.-elf weep-
forever from
woods y This
d ill these \va-
(ieiisi; forcstsi
^L's liefore the
over the seas,
lese two were
that had first
usar.t .suMimer-
011 the golden
if Skvo grown
Was it of Ju-
ry Harry, and
how got tliem-
ig voyage that
mt.s of Toher-
[)iie as a pale-
3 shore ? One

it there was a
-" I think I

might this very minute telegra])h to Mr. Dalfour
10 coine right over by the next steamer."

The eotii|)aiiioii of this pert^on was not in the
liiihit of expressing surprise. He had got uecus-
tenieil to the sv.ift and oceult deviees of her
small and subtle i>rain. If the member for En-
ulcbury had at thiiD moment arrived by eoaeh,
iind walked up the front sitei)S of the hotel, ho
would have betrayed no astonishment whatever.
So lie merely said, " Why ':'"

" Vou will see," she eontiimeil, " that lier first
tlioiight about this lake will be its likeness to
,-oiiie other lake that she ha-; kiKjwu. She is al-
ways looking baek to KiiLdand. liast night she
ppokc! tpiite eheerfully about going home. If .Mr.
lialt'our were suddenly to meet us at Montreal — "

'• Have you telegraphed to him y" demands the
otliei', stiinly; lea' lie is never sure as to the
iiiiidiiess of wliieli this woman is capable.

" No."

" Nor written to liiin y"

"No." ■

"Then don't be a fool. t)o you mean to say

iit two jieople v.lio nilil tlieh'

v.lio nilij tlieh'
iiev must needs

married life so

HI I iiii.ibic (lint tiiey must needs sei)aiate, are at
(line to l;e lei o/ieiled because (Uie of them take.'-
a iri|) across Hie AtJ.iritie 'f Is that your remedy
(i)i' iiiiitried tiiisciy, Uiuf sall-water cure — tliir-
IV giiiiieiis return, with Ihitlj pounds a head for
llic wine billy"

" (t WHS only one of them who wisht/J fi/f a
.■^(•|/i((i((ioti," !»ays this gentle Ci'lieiner, with a ha|)-
I'V smile, "and already she kiu/*.' a little of what
hijiaration is like. I)oii't 1 s(e it / And the fur-
tin r we go, the more varied thiiiU' we fcr, f
know that her heart is yearniii',' rll the )(((;ie to
pi baek to its home. She spealis now of New
V(jik as if it Were continrnts and coiitiiuiits
iinay. It is not a i|Ue.->ilon of time — and of your
tliirly guineas; it is a (luestion of long dajs and
iii^iiis, and solitary thinking, and .-Iraiige places
and strange people, and tl"; thoiijilit of the in-
creasing labor of oiie'.s going back. And jiirt
fancy when we have gone away across the wide
pi'iries— oh, I kiio" '. You will see the change
in . ■' face when we turn toward England again !"

Her conipairion is not at all carried away l)y
this burst of enthusiasm.

" Perhaps," he observes, " you will bo good
•.'iiough to say at what point Mr. Halfour is sud-
ileiily to appear, like a fairy in a pantomime, or
a circus rider through a hoop."

I never said he was to appear any where,"
is the petulant reply.

"No; and therefore he is all tho more likely
to appear At Niagara y Are wo to increase
llie current with a flood of tears y"

' I tell you I liave neither telegraphed nor
written to him," she say.s. " I don't know where
lie is, and I don't care."

Then wo arc determined to liavo our cure
coniplotey 'Lady Sylvia Balfour before three
months of moral scolding : the same after tho three
Diouths : the recipe forwarded for eightecnpcnce in
postage-stamps. Apply to Professor Stickleback,
an the top of Box Hill, Surrey.' There is one thing
tiuite certain — that if you are the means of ree-
mciling these two, they will both of them most
iordially hate you for the rest of their life."

" I can not help that," is the quiet answer.
'One must do what good one can. It isn't much
It the best."

We were almost the only occupants of the
steamer that K-ft the small pier and proceedeil to
cut its way through the wind-swept waters of tho

[ lake. And now, sure enough, these iieojile bo-

I gan to talk about Loeli lionnaid, and Killarney,
and Windermere, and all sorts of other jilaces,
just as if they wished to pander to this poor

' creature's nostalgia ; it was of no use to remind
them that the lake was an Americnn lake, with
associations of its own, ami these far from iiiiiii-
terestiiig. Very gloomy, however, was the aspect
in whieli f/ikc II nicon now presented ilsi'lf to

I us; for till' clouds sti'ined to come closer down,

' and the lov and wooded hills bi'i'anie of a heav-
ier puiple, mil darker still becami,' the water that
was dashed in hurrying waves on the sandy and
rocky shore. Then we got into the narrows, and
were near eiMiugh the hills to see wljeie 'lie fjtv-
vnt had been on fire, the charred stems oi' ilio
trees appearing in the iJi.-laiU'e like so many vino
stems <\ ashed w |iili;. The lake opened out again,
and oil we .--ti.iimed, (he iiKMintains far alu.'ad of
us growing of a still deeper [iiirple, as if a leai'.
fill storm Here iiiipeiniiiig over them. Suddi'iily
Lady Sylvia uttered a light cry She had by ac-
cident turned. And, lo ! behind us there was a
great blii/.e nf sniihglit lalling on ilie liuls and
the water — the lake a sheet ot dii;:/.iing silver, the
islands ol' a inidiant and sunny greeii, one keen

i fllJ^ll ol' idiie Msiblu among the iloaling clouds.

' And it was tiieii, too, we saw all eagh' slowly
.•^ailing over the iiis-, t woods— ilie only living

, thing visdile in tins w.li]ernes> of water and ior-

. est. The .-unligiit ^|a■ead. Theic were giinnma-

; iiigs of silver in the iieavy cio.ids lying over the
legiiui ol flie A'iirondacks A pale glow eros.-,eii
from time to time our drying decks. Wlun wo

I landed to uiiderlake the sl.ort railway joariiey
betwien '.ake (jeoigo and Lake Ciianip!aiii, we

! found ourselves in hot sim.iiiiue.

I Laki' Cliiflnplain, too, was t'air and sunny and
green, and the waters that the steamer ciuiined
were as clear as those of Sehatfliaiisen, while th.o
windy shreds «,•' loud that Hu.ite 1 by tlie Adiron-
daeks were of the lightest and Heeeiest. IJut
there were storms brewing somewhere. As the
day waned, we iiad sudden Hts of purple dark-
ness, and dashes of rain w cut sweeping along llie
lake. In the evening there was a wild smoke of
red in the west behind tin; p.illid hills, and this
ruddy glare here and there touelied the gray-gieL'ii
waters of the lake with a dusky fire, ami made
the hull of one boat wliieli wo could see in liio
distance gleam like some ci iinson stone. As wo
sat there, watelnng the lurid suiiscl and the daik-
euing waters, we had dreams of an excursion to
be made in the days to conio. When Hell's long
exile' in the West was over, we were to iiieei soiue-
where about this point. We were suddenly to
disappear from human ken into the wilds of the
Adimndacks. We should live on the piodtice of
our own guns and fishing rods; we should sleep
in the log-huts on the co/)l summer nights ; we
should become as dextrous as Indians in the use
of our canoes. W'e had hoard vague rumors of

I siinilnr excursions tlirough these virgin wilds :
why should not wo also plunge into the forest
primeval ?

Mr. Von Rosen said nothing at all when l»e
heard this proposal ; but ho laughed, and looked
at his wife.
" When I am set free to get bacli to England,"

Ott

(.KhliN rAtsll HES AND PICCADILLY.

HuitI \\w iniicli-woinitn, with f^rcat gcntlcnoHS — for
hIiu wiih olivioiirtly pfolltiiin by \wv brief conipaii-
i()ll^lli|> with ('ivill/,L'il fdlUtt — " 1 dun't tliiiilc— I
I'ciilly lid not tliiiik — tliiit you will I'lilch me fouliii'
ui'iiiiti'l lii'r(>,"

lit I 111' iiiiMiii time, iiowcver, slio was just ns ea-
ger to wee every tliilift ilM iiliy boily eli^e. Look,
for exum|ili', III what hapiieneil on tliu very tirst
iMoriiiiiK iiI'liM' our iirriviil at Montreal. We had,
on the prevliiu>i I'veiiiii);, left Liiku (/luiinplain at
I'lattriliui'ij;, mill i '>t iiilo the train there. We had
iiiaile our Ih'Hl IK (iniliitaiiLe with the Canadians in
thu persons of lour us promising-looUiii;; seoiin-
drels as could be found in any part of the world,
who eonveived in ^uttuial Freneh in whisjiers, and
kept I heir unwashed luces unit eolliirless throats
ho near to;;elhei' iis lo su){i;est a consiiiraey to
inurdi'i'. \V'e had parlcd from these p-ntlenien
IM soon IIS ihe train had crossed theSt. Lawrence
briil)j;e and ^oi into Montreal, anil we had reaulied
our hold alioi.t niidnijfht. Now what must this
(leriimn do Inn insist on every one f^ettin^; up at
a nameless liour in the iiiornin^; to start away by
trail! and iiitercepi ii bout coniliii; down over the
Lacliiiie Kiipids. His wife usscnied, of course;
ami tlii'ii llie otiier two women were not to be
(undone. A solemn tryst was made, liidiiule
WHS iinavuilni;;. And so it huppened llii.t tin le
was II liii.sheil huriyinj; to and fro in the curly
dawn, iiiid two w three wrctclicd people, who
Oii^jht to have been in hid, went shivering out
inio the cold nil'. As for the liuchme liapids,
the pii sent writer has nolhini!; to say about tliein.
They are ."uid to be very line, and there is a jue-
tiire of iiieiii in every booliscller's shop in (Jimada.
It Is aho asMcrled that when the steumer -iocs
wliirliii;.f doun, the pu.^senp'is have a pleasiii;^
seiisiilioii of tenor. All he knows is that, as he
was sitliii;; coinforlably at breakfast, four objects
tniiilc their iippeurunce, and these turned out to
be himi'iii bciiin-', with blue faces umiI helpless
hands. SV lien they hail not, thawed somewhat,
and aide to open .their inoiitlis without breakiui^
bones, they said tliiit the desueiit of tiie rapids
was a very line tiling indeed.

Nor Wii,. it possible for one to learn any thing
of the eliiiructer of the Canadian nation because
of tliene iiiNiitiable sinht-secrs. The writer of
these pa).;es, tindiiif; that he would liave two whole
days to spend in Montreal, had proposed to hiin-
Helf to make an exhauslivu study of thu political
Bituution in Catiadu, and to Hiipplemeiit that by
a uomparisoii between the manners, customs, cos-
tume, and dutnesliu iiabits of the Cumidians and
tiioHo of thu Ainerieaiis. It wiis also his inten-
tion to devote a eoiisiduiiiblu portion of this time
to n eureful impiiry as to the immber of Cana-
dians who would prefer separaiioii from Great
Britain. Uat the.se projected studies, which would
huvc been of immense value to the world at large,
were rendered impossible by the conduct of this
group of Irivolous tourists, wlio were simply bciit
on prolltloHsly eiijoyiiiK^ themselves. And this
tlioy seemed to do with a great good-will, for they
were delighted with tlie cool fresh air and the
brilliunt atiiKtsplieru whioh gave to this city a
Bingularly bright and gay appearance. They were
charmed with tlio prettily decorated cabs in the
street. W hen they entered the Cathedral of Notre
Dame, it sccined quite appropriate to find colors
and gilding there that in England would have
Buggested a certain inatitutiou i.i Leicester Square.

Then we had to climb to the tower to have a view
over the beautiful, bright city, with its red brick
houses set amid green trees; its one or two re.
niaining tin dome^ (;:intiiig ba< k the inoriiin;;
suidight; its bold sweep of the ."-t. Lawrence re.
Ilecting the blue sky. What was rhat, loo, about
the vagus nerve, when the striking of the great
bell seemed to till our chests with a cholun;;
sound y (Jiir ranch-woman was not (U'dinarily
Hcientilie in her talk, Imt she was rather proiul
of the vagus nerve. Indeed, we grew to have u
great atl'eclion for that useful monitor within, nf
whose existeime we bad nut heard before; uinl
many a time afterward, when our desire for liiii-
iier was bccouiing pereinptory, we only rccognizcil
the friendly olliccs of this hiilieilo unknown bell-
man, who \>us doubtless, in his own ipiiet way,
sounding the tocsin of ilie soul.

in fact, tiiese trivial-minded people would hiive
nothing to do with a serious study of the ('iiii.i.
dial) charucic;'. They (-aid that they approvid
(d' the political institiilioiis of this coiiiitry becuiisu
they got French bread at dinner. They wen-
ipiile Mire that the Canadians wire most lii\.ii
subjects of the Crown, and that cvei > thing »ii^
for the best, simply because some very kiim
friends called on tlicni with a couple id '■arriiij.'c.s
and whirled them a\Nay up to the >i.iiiiuit •>!
.Mount Koval I'ark, and showed iliciti the gn.ii
plain beneath, and the city, aiil ilie broad rivii
They went mud aliout that iver. Yuii woiilil
liiive fuiieied that Hell hud lucii born a buij;''-
woman, and hud spent her life in >liootiiig rupi<ls.
We knew that the old-fusliionid roiig of our yoiitli
kept contiiiiiully coming iiui'k to her idle t.iiuv,
for we heard faint snatches of it huinined fiiiiii
time to time when the rest of n were engaged in
talk.

"Why slioiild we yet oar suil iiiilurl?
'I'liJi'i; IS nut a l/icatli llie lliu^ wave lo carl;
Hut wlieii tilt! wiiiil blows oil the slioiv,

Oil, sweetly we'll rest oar weary oar!

«' •'• • •"« •

"I'tawa's title! ttiis tri'mbling moon
Shall see us tliiul over thy siiru'i'S soon.
Saint of tins j^rren isle, hear our prayers—
Oil, t'l'iiiit us colli lieiiveiis ami tavoriiig uirs!
Blow, hreeziis, blow! the Biruaiii niiiH taut,
The riipiUs uie near, and the ilayUt'iU's past!"

And tlie daylight was indeed past when we
left Montreal; for these unconscionable tourists
insisted on starting at the unholy hour of ten at
night, so that they should accomplish some fool-
ish plan or other. It was an atrocious piece of
cruelty. We got into a sleeping-ear, and found
tlie brightest and cleanest of bunks awaiting us.
We were pretty tired, too, witii rushing up and
down belfry stairs, and what not. It was no
wonder, therefore, that we speedily forgot all
about our having to get up in the middle of the
night at some wretched place, called Prescott.

We were summoned back from the calm of
dreain-land by a hideous noise. We staggered
out of the carriage, and found ourselves in a
small and empty railway station at two in the
morning. But the more we rubbed our eye<,
the more we were bewildered. Every thing was
wrapped in a cold thick fog, so that the train
was but the phantom of a train, and we seemed
to each other as ghosts. The only light wan
from a solitary lamp that sent its dazzling glare
into the fog, and seemed to gather about it a
golden smoke. Then these tierce cries iu the
distance :

have II view
it!) red ljii(k

me or twn rv.

tliu iiiuiniii^

Liiwrfiiiue \v-

but, tou, uliiiiit

; of tlio (ircat

III a I'lioliiii^

lot onliiiarily

latliur proiiil

WW to liavc a

itor witliiii. Ill'

1 bcl'ort' ; iiinl
Icsiie for diii-
iiiv rL'fO)5iii/.oil
iinkiiown Ix'U-
■. II (juiut way,

ilo would liuve

• of till' (,'llll.l-

ia-y n|i|ir()\ril
luiilrv buciiiise
■. Tilt')' wrii'
re liio>it iii\,i.
,-i'i > tiling «a^
im- very Jiiim
e ol iai'i'ia;,'fs,
lie .-Miiiuit ii!
Iiel'.i tlie ffl'ral
le broad rivir
You would
born a l)ai>;''-
lootiii;; i'a|ii<U.
ij^ of oui' ymilli
lur idle !amv,
liuiiiiiied fiiiiii
eie eiij^uf^ed in

avu to cuil;
slioi'o,

Hoon.

inayui'S—
ivoiiiifj uirs!

iiim last,
Uglil's past!"

asl when we
(liable touiists
hour of ten at
lish some foul-
icious piece of
lar, and fouinl
s awaiting u*.
isliing up ami
It was 110
lily forgot all
middle of the
id Preseott.

the calm of
We staggei'od
jurselves in a
at two in tliu
bed our eycri,
a'l'V thing was
that the train
nd we seemed
mly light was
dazzling glare
ler about it a
i cries in the

(iUKF-X PASTIRES ANr) 1'U'(;AI>ILLY.

•'PanTs? Who's for DhiiTh V All aboard
for Pan'JV"

The poor ••"liiverliig wrelehcs staroil li('l|ilc!-cly
It oaeli oilier, lil%e ^'.liost.^ wailing for I'liainii to
lake tluiii .xoiiicwhiihcr.

"Itairi'sV iipiiii icsoiiniloi' that unearthly cry,
wiiii'li had a peculiar rising; iiitlirlinh on the Hee-
oiiil Hvllable. " WIio'm for Dan - '• All aboard
for Dau'lVy"

Then il erossed the mind of iho bewildered
tmvcller.-i that pi'rliaps this Oaii'l's was smiie bos-
ti'liy ill the iH'igliborhoiiil - .soine liaveii of refiigi^
fidin thi.-i sea of In;; — and mi tlicy iluiiiblcd ulnii;^-
until they made out the glare of iiiiiilli< r lamp,
mil here was an oiiinibud with it!< dour tiling' wide
open.

" Dan'l's ?" PUiiLT ou( the plaintive voiee nuaiii.
"Who's for Daii'l's Hot: ' ■;' All aboard for
DaiiTsV"

We elainbered into the 81111111 \hiel( and sat
down, bound for the uiikuown. Tlieii I'le voiee
outside grew sharp. '"All. Alio \i!i>', ' it cried.
The door was banged to, ainl away we went
through the l'o<.', pliinging iiml r»'eliiig, as if we
were eliiiibing llic beil of ti stream.

Then we got, into the liosti'lry, and there was
mi air of drowsiness abmit it that was (eniiKius,
I'lh lights were low. Tin re was i,o eolVei looin

oprli.

" 1 tliiiil;." said tlu> lietiteiiiiit, riibl>iii:; liis
hiiiids eliceifully — " I tliiiik we eouhl not do liet-
tor than have some bramlv or whiskey and hot
water before goini.' to bed,''

The elerk, who had just handed him his key,
piililcly intimated lli it Ik.' cniild h:ive nuiliiii^; of
iliat sort — nothing ot any MMt,iii faet. 'I'he lieu-
tenant tinned on liiin

" Do you mean to till nie that this is a temper-
snce house y he said, wii;i u stari'.

" No, it ain't," said the elerk. " Not generally
lint it is oil Sunday; and this is Sunday.'

It 1 rriainly was three o'eloek on Sunday morn-
i:;;;.

"Gracious heavens, man !" exelaiuied the lieu-
tenant, "is this a eivilized eouiiii\ y Don't you
know that you will play tlie very miseliief with
our vagus nerve.s ?''

The elerk clearly thought he liad nothing to
do with our vagus nerves, for he simply tiiriu'i
and lowered another lamp. So the lieutenant lit
his candle and departed, muttering to himself.

"Daii'l'sy" we heard him growl, as he went
np the wooden stair. "All aboard for Dan'I's':'
Confound me if I ever come within u dozen miles
of Dan'I's again !"

CHAPTER XXXV.

A T II O i; S A N I> ISLANDS.

The next day was a Sunday, still, calm, and
ijlue; and we sat or patiently walked along the
wooden pier, waiting for the steamer that was to
oume up the b.oad waters of the St. Lawrence.
"lie river lay before us like a lake. The sun
«as warm on the long planks. There was not a
Hake of cloud in the sky.

Hour after hour passed, and the steamer, that
Iwil been detained in the fog of the preceding
tii;.'ht, did not appear. We got into a drow.sy and
liicauiy state. We watched the people come aud
G

go by the dlher boats, without interest or eiirios.
\\\, Who well' these, for I'XuiiipIc, tlii-- liii'tli-V
gro'ip of liiili ins, with their pale olive eoiiiplex-
inn and ihfir oval ryes like the eyes ol ihe t'lii-
I'e^t? They spoke 11 giittuial I' riiieli, and ihey
were clad in nigs and lalters of till I'olnis. Hup.
pickers y The S(|iialii| di .-et'iidauts of tlir old
IroipioisV And nh'U llioe had gone, llie only
iii'in \\}]t) did !( iiiaiii iMis a big Miiloi-iimkiiig
|iei'-oil, who walked up iiliil dnwii, alul ea;,;el'ly
whin led a bit of VMM,'! llim «e did leemd Hitli
some luli;:iii i iiiteii>l, lor hitlieilo \\f had imt
seen any one eiign^'ed ill iliis (ieeii|iaiii(ii, iiud ve
\M-hed to know the objeet of it. Surely this wa."*
no idle amiiseinein, ihi- lierei' iiiid eiieigetit' eiit-
ting down of llu' sliek y \\ as he not bent on
milking a peijy (b' in sliaipenihg his kiiifeV
Suddenly he threw the bit of wood info the river,
and shut up his knife with an iiir of luueli satis-
fuel ion ; the mvsleiy lemiiiiis ii mv: terv until this
day.

rerlinps il is to Iieguile this tedium of waiting
— iilid be it reniembered that the [iiike of a Tlloil>
sand Isliinds luy pu' I iilieail of us, imd Niagara
till), while at Niiigaia ve expeeled in get Kllera
irom Kngland — that oin' of us beems lo till a
story. It is a patlu'tie story. U is all about u
bank eh'i'k who livd a long time ago in Caiiidiui'
town, and who iiseil to walk in every day to the
(,'ity. One day, as he was passing a small sliop,
he saw i-i a eiumu' of the uindow about half a
dozen wafer-eolo" drawing- in a souies\ hat dirty
and dilapiilated state; and it oeeiliied lo him
that, if he eould get these elieiip, he ininht have
them fresh-ieoiiiited und framed, and then they
would hel|) to deenr.ite a cei lain liny lioiisi! that
he had his eye on for a partieiiliir re.i~.)ii. lie
bought the pietuies for ii few shiiiiiij:--, and ho
Very pKiudly eaiiied them foithwith to a carver
and gilder whu.-e shop lay in his line of route to
till! C'iiy. He was to call for them on the fol-
lowing Moiuliy. He called in at the iippniiitcd
time, and the carver iind gilder seemed suddenly
to leeolleit that he had fnigolten the ilrmviiiiis,
fliey would be ready on the next Monday. The
bank clerk was in no great liiiiiy— for the faet
is, he and his sweetheart had i|iiaireled — and ho
sonu'whiii listlessly called in on the next Mou-
■ i.iy. The (iiiiwinus, however, were not yet ready.
And so it came to pass that every Mmulay even-
ing, as ho went bume to his lodgings, the bank
clerk — with a sad iiidilTerenee growing inori; and
inoie apparent in his lace— called in lor the wa-
ter-colors, and found that they were not in the
frames yet, and promised, without any anger in
his voiee, to call again. Years passed, and unite
mechanically, on eaeli Monday evening, ilie bank-
clerk eiilled in for the pietuies, niid just as me-
chanically he walked home without lliein to his
lodgings. But thesi! yea IS had been dealing ha idly
with the bank elerk. His sweetheart had proved
faithless, and he no longer cared for any thing
that happened to him. He grew negligent ubout
his dress; he became prematurely gray; lie could
not trust his memory in the fulhllnient of his du-
ties. And so in time they had to ask him to re-
sign his situation in the bank ; and he became a
sort of messenger or hall porter somewhere, with
his clothes getting dingier und his hair whiter
summer by summer and autuimi by autumn.
And at last he fell sick, and his wages were
stopped, and he thought there was nothing for

r^%.

IMAGE EVALUATION
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11.25

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lif HA

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Hiotographic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WIST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. MSaO

(716)873-4Sd3

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

him to do now but to turn his face to the wall
and die. But — said the narrator of this true sto-
ry — would you believe it ? one night the pictures
came home! There was a noise on the little
wooden stair — not the heavy tramp of the under-
taker, but the uncertain footsteps of the carver
and p;ildcr, who had himself grown a tottering,
white-headed old man. And when he came into
the room he bui-st into tears at sight of the poor
bank clerk ; but all the same he cried out, "Now,
see what I have done for you ! I have kept your
pictures until they have become Old ^Jasters!
I have been offered £3()0 apiece for them ; you
can have tlie money to-movrow." And the poor
bank clerk wept too ; and he got up, and shook
his friend by the hand; he could scarcely ex-
press his gratitude. But what does he do POW?v
Why, on the strength of the sum of money he
got for his pictures he started a Bath-chair; and
you may see him any day you like being wheeled
along the broad walks in Regent's Park; and
whenever he sees a young man with a beard, a
velveteen coat, and unwashed hands, he imagines
him to be an artist, and he stops and says to him,
" I beg your pardon. Sir ; but don't be hard on
the poor carver and gilder. He is only increas-
ing the value of your pictures. It will all come
right in time." This was the story of the poor
bank clerk.

Tlie steamer! What business have we to be
thinking about Regent's Park, here on the banks
of the broad St. Lawrence? We enter the great
vessel, and have a passing look at its vast sa-
loons and rows of cabins and rows of life-belts.
We start away into the wide stream, and go swift-
ly cutting through the clear green water; while
the wooded and rocky banks and the occasional
clusters of white houses glide noiselessly back
into the sunny haze of the east. Then the vagus
nerve has to be appeased ; for it is a long time
since we left the coffee-room at Dan'l's. When
we go nut on the higii deck again, the afternoon is
wearing on, and we are nearing that great widen-
ing of the river which is known as the Lake of a
Thousand Islands.

But surely this is neither a river nor a lake that
begins to disclose itself — stretching all across the
western horizon, with innumerable islands and
gray rocks and dark clusters of firs and bold
sweeps of si'lver where a current passes through
the dark green reflections of the trees. It is
more like a submerged continent just re-appear-
ing above the surface of the sea; for as far as
the eye can range there is nothing visible but this
glassy plain of water, with islands of every form
and magnitude, wooded down to the edge of the
current. It is impossible to say which is our
channel, and which the shore of the main-land ;
we are in a wilderness of water and rock and
tree, in unceasing combinations, in perpetual, calm,
dream-like beauty. And as we open up vista aft-
er vista of this strange world — seeing no sign of
life from horizon to horizon but a few wild-duck
that go whirring by — the rich colors in the west
deepen ; the sun sinks rod behind some flashing
clouds if gold ; there is a wild glare of rose and
yellow that just misses the water, but lights up
the islands as if with fire ; one belt of pine in the
west has become of a deep violet, while all around
the eastern sky there is a low-lying flush of pink.
And then, after the sun has r;J0i>, behold ! there
Is a pale, clear, beautiful green all across the

west ; and that is barred with russet, purple, und
orange ; and the shadows along the islands hav«
grown dusky and solemn. It is a magical night
The pale, lambent twilight still fills the world,
and is too strong for the stars — unless we are to
regard as golden planets the distant lights of tlie
light-houses that steadily burn above the rocks.
There is a gray, metallic lustre on the surface of
the lake, now ruffled by the cool winds of the
night. And still we go gliding by these dark and
silent islands, having the sharp yellow ray of a
light-house now on this side and now on that;
and still there seems to be no end to this world
of shadowy foliage and rock and gleaming water.
Good-night — good-night — before the darkness
comes down ! The Lake of a Thousand Islands
has burned itself into our memory in flashes of
rose-color and gold.

What is this strange thing that awakens us in
the early morning — a roaring and rushing noise
outside, a swaying of the cabin that reminds us
of " the rolling Forties" in mid-Atlantic, and sud-
den dashes of green water across the dripping
glass of the port-hole ? We stagger up on deck,
and lo! there is nothing around us but driving
skies and showers and hurrying masses of green
water, that seem to have no boundary of main-land
or iiiland. We congregate in the forward part
of the saloon, and survey this cheerless prospect;
our only object of interest being the rapid flight
of some wild-fowl that scud by before the wind.
Have we drifted away, then, from the big, hot
continent they call America, and floundered some-
how into the Atlantic or Pacific ? We are witli-
drawn from this outward spectacle by the pathetic
complaints of a till and lank Canadian, who has
made friends with every body, and is loudly dis-
coursing — in a higl , shrill, plaintive key — of his
troubles, not the leas ; of which is that he declares
he will shortly be sf Asick if this phinging of the
steamer continues. Ic appears that he came on
board rt some port ' >r other about six in the morn-
ing, with his wife, who, an invalid, still remains
in her caMn.

"Yes, Sir. The landlord shet up at 'leven
o'clock, and we didn't know when the boat was
comin' 'long ; and me and the old woman we had
to go bamboozlin' round moren hef the night;
and that makes a man kiner clanjammery, you
bet !"

He looked through the dripping winds with an
uncomfortable air.

" There's a pretty riley bit o' sea on," he re-
marked.

He became more and more serious, and a little
pale.

" If this goes on," said he, suddenly, " by Gosh,
I'll heave!"

So we conridered it prudent to withdraw from
the society of this frank and friendly rsrson ; and
while the vessel went plunging or through the
wild chaos of green and gray m* * and vapors,
we busied ourselves in purchasing knickknacks
manufactured by the Canadian Indians, littlr
dreaming that ere long we should be the guest
of the red man in his wig'<ram in the far West,
and be enabled to negotiate for the purchase of
articles deposited by the innocent children of the
forest at a sort of extemporized pawnshop at tbi
agency. It was thea that one of our number- inin and
her name shall not be mentioned, even thougk irhen
thousands of pounds be offered — made a joka )at tawdry

OREEN PASTURES AND PICOADILL/.

isset, purple, und
the islands liart
a magical night
1 fills the world,
-unless we are tu
taut lights of tlie
above the rocks.
an the surface of
aol winds of the
>y these dark and
) yellow ray of a
nd now on that;
end to this world
d gleaming water.
»re the darkness
rhousand Islands
lory in flashes of

lat awakens us in
ind rushing noise
1 that reminds u)
Atlantic, and siul-
ross the dripping
agger up on declc,
id us but driving
g masses of gi-ecn
idary of main-land
the forward part
heerless prospect;
ig the rapid flight
r before the wind,
from the big, hot
J floundered some-
c ? We are with-
icle by the pathetic
Danadian, who has
and is loudly dis-
intive key — of liis
is that he declares
is plunging of the
I that he came on
ut six in the morn-
alid, still remains

ihet up at 'leven
hen the boat was

)ld woman we had
n lief the night;
clanjammery, you

iitg winds with an

)' sea on," he re-

erious, and a little
ddenly,"byGo8h,

to withdraw from
endly rarson ; and
g or through the
mi' 4 and vapors,
ising knickknacks
an Indians, httle
onld be the guest
I in the far West
)r the purchase oi|
int children of tl
d pawnihop at tl
I of our numbei
Dned,even tbout
ed— made a jok<

It was not an elaborate joke. But when she said
lomething, in a very modest and sly way, about
t Pawnee, we forgave her wickedness for the
sake of the beautiful color that for a second suf-
fused her blushing face.

Even Lt'.ke Ontario, shoreless as it seemed when
we went on deck in the morning, must end some
time; and so it was that at length we came in
sight of its northwestern boundaries, and of Toron-
to. By this time the weather had cleared up a
bit; and we landed with the best disposition in
the world toward this great collection of business
buildings and private dwellings, all put down at
right angles on the sandy plain adjoining the lake.

" Now will you study the history, literature, and
political situation of Canada ?" asked the only se-
rious member of this party, when we had "eacheJ
the spacious and comfortable hotel, which was an
agreeable relief after being on board that fog-
surrounded ship. .

"I will not," is the plain answer.

" What did you come to America for ?"

If she had been honest, she would have con-
fessed that one of her pUuis in coming to Ameri-
ca was the, familiar one of delivering a series of
lectures — all at the head of one innocent young
wife. But she says, boldly,

" To amuse myself."

"And you have no care for the ties which
bind the mother country to these immense colo-
nies — ^you ^ave no interest in their demands — "

"Not the slightest."

" You rfould see them go without concern ?"

" Yes. Are we not always giving them a civil
hintto that effect?"

"It is nothing to you that the enterprise of
your fellow-subjects has built this great town, in
a surprisingly short time, on this arid plain — "

" It is a great deal to me," she says. " I must
buy a dust-coat, if I can get one. ' And what
about the arid plain ? I see as many trees here
as I have seen in any city on this side of the
Atlantic."

And so it was always; the most earnest of
students would have broken down in his efforts
to impress on this tourist party the necessity of
learning any thing. If you spoke to them about
theatres, or carriages, or dry Champagne, per-
haps they might condescend to listen ; but they
treated with absolute indifference the most vital
questions regarding the welfare of the nation
whose guests they were. The kindly folks who
drove them about Toronto, through the busy
streets of the commercial district, through the
saudy thoroughfares where the smart villas stood
amidst the gardens, and through that broad and
pleasant public pack, tried to awaken their con-
cern about the doings of this person and that per-
son whose name waj in all the newspapers ; and
they paid no more heed than they might have done
had the Legislature at Ottawa been composed of
three tailors of Tooley Street. But there was

ne point about Toronto which they did most hon-
[estly and warmly admire, and that was the Nor-
jman Gothic University. To tell the truth, we had

lOt seen much that was striking in the way of

rohitecture since crossing the Atlantic ; but the

'mple grace and beauty of this gray stone build-
wholly charmed these careless travellers; and
in and again they spoke of it In after-days

hen our eyes could find nothing to rest upon

«t tawdry brick and discolorea wood. There is

a high tower at this Toronto College, and we
thought we might as well go up to the top of it.
The lieutenant, who was never at a loss for want
of an introduction, speedily procured us a key,
and we began to explore many envious and puz-
zling labyrinths and secret passaf,es. At last we
stood on the flat top of the squave tower, and all
around us lay a fresh and smiling country, with
the broad waters of Ontario coming close up to
the busy town. We went walking quite care-
lessly about this small inclosed place; we were
chatting with each other, and occasionally lean-
ing on the parapet of gray stone.

Who was it who first caibd out? Far away
over there, in the haze of the sunlight, over the
pale ridges of high-lying woods, a feunt white
coiumn rose into the still sky, and spread itself
abroad like a cloud. Motionless, colorless, it
hung there in the golden air ; and for a time we
could not make out what this strange thing might
be. And then we bethought ourselves — that
spectral column of white smoke, rising into the
summer sky, told where Niagara lay bidden in
the distant woods.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

A GLANCE BACK.

Meanwhile, what of the widower whom we bad
left behind in England ? It was fairly to be ex-
pected that Balfour, once he had seen his wife
handed over to that wise and tender counselor
who wns to cure her of all her sentimental suffer-
ings, would go straightway back to England and
rejoice in the new freedom that allowed him to
give up the whole of his time and attention to
public affairs. At all events that was what Lady
Syh ia expected. Now he would have no domes-
tic cares to trouble him. As far as his exertions
were necessary to the safety of the state, England
was secure. For Lady Sylvia always spoke of
her husband as having far more serious duties to
perform than any Home Secretary or Lord Chan-
cellor of them all.

Balfour, having taken a last look — from the
deck of his friend's yacht — at the great dark ship
going out into the western horizon, got back to
Quecnstown again, and to London. No douht he
was free enough; and there was plenty at this
time to engage the attention of members of Par-
liament. But he did not at all seem to rejoice in
his freedom; and Englebury had about as little
reason as Ballinascroon to applaud the zeal of its
representative. He went down to the House, it
is trUe, and he generally dined there ; but his chief
cronies discovered in him an absolute listlessness
whenever, in the intervals between their small
jokes, they mentioned some bill or other ; while,
on the other hand, he was greatly interested in
finding out which of these gentlemen had made
long sea-voyages, and was as anxious to get in-
formation about steamers, storms, fogs, and the
American climate as if he were about to arrange
for the transference of the whole population of
England to the plains of Colorado. The topics
of the hour seemed to have no concern whatever
for this silent and brooding man, who refused all
invitations, and dined either at the House or bjr
himself at a small table at the Reform. The
Public Worship R^^iation Bill awoke in him

100

OREEN PASTURES AND PIOOAMLLT.

neither enthusiusm tior aversion. The Duty on
Third-class Pusseiigers ? — they iniglit have made
it a guinea a head if they lilced. In other days
he had been an eager demonstrator of the neces-
sity of our having a Public Prosecutor ; now he
had scarcely a word to say. There were only two
subjects in which at this moment he seemed keen-
ly interested — the one was the Report which Mr.
PlimsoU's Commission had just published, and
the other was, singularly enough, the act just
passed in America about the paper currency.
What earthly reason could he have for bothering
about the financial arrangements of America V
He did not own a red cent of the American
debt.

One fcrrenoon he was walking through St.
James' i Park when he was overtaken by a cer-
tain ncble lord — an ingenuous youth whom he
had kU' iwn at Oxford.

" Balfour," said this yjung man> walking on
with him, "you are a Scotchman — ^you can tell
me what I have to erpect. Fact is, I have done
rather a bold thing — I have taken a shooting of
13,000 aci'c.4, for this autumn only, in the island
of Mull; and I have never been there. But I
sent my own man up, and he believes the repor*".
they gave were all right."

" Wliiit you are to expect ?" said Balfour, good-
humoredl y. " Plenty of shooting, probably ; and
plenty of rain, certainly."

" So they say," continued the young man. " And
my avant-conrkr say.-* there may be some difficulty
about provisions. He hints something about liir-
ing a small steam-yacht that we might send across
to Oban at a pinch — "

" Yes, that woiddbe advisable, if you are not
near Tobermory."

" Eighteen miles off."

Then thv: young man was fired with a sudden
generosity.

" Your wife has gone to America, hasn't she?"

" Yes," was the simple answer.

" Are vou booked for the 1 2th ?"

"No." ••

" Come down with me. I sha'n't leave till the
10th, if that will suit you. The House is sure to
be up — in fact, you fellows have nothing to do —
you are only gammoning your constituencies."

" It's lucky for some people that they can sit
in Parliament without having any conrtituenny to
gammon," said Balfour.

" You mean we mightn't find it quite so easy
to get in," said the young man, with a moi'.est
laugh ; for indeed his service in Parliament was
of the slightest sort — was limited, In fact, to pro-
curing admission for one or two lady friends on
tho night of a great debate. " But what do you
Bay to Mull ? If we don't get much of a dinner,
we are to have a piper to play to us while we eat.
And of cour ' there will be good whiskey. What
do you say t"

" I say that It is very good of yon, and I should
like It extremely \ but I think I shall stay In town
this autumn."

"In town!" '

" Yes."

" All the autumn f* exclaimed the young man,
with an air as though he half expected this mani-
ac to turn and bite nim on the arm.

" Yes," said Balfour ; and then he stammered
it sort of apology. " llie ttxt is that a married
man feels himself taken at an unfair i^dvantage

If he goes any where without his wife. I hate
nothing so much as dining as a single man with
a lot of married people. They pity you and pat-
ronize you — "

" But, my dear fellow, there won't be any mar-
ried people up at this place— I can't pronounce
the name. There will be only two men besides
ourselves — a regular bachelor party. You sure-
ly can't mean to stop in town the whole of the
autumn, and be chased about your club by the
cleaning people. You will cut your throat before
the end of August."

" And what then ? The newspapers are hard
pushed at that time. If I committed suicide in
the hall of the Reform Club, I should deserve the
gratitude of the whole country. But, seriously, I
am sorry I can't go down with you to Scotland
Much obliged all the same."

" When docs Lady Sylvia return ?" asked his
companion, cl . -^lessly.

"About the end of October, I should think,"
Balfour said ; and then he added, " Very Ukelj
we shall go to Italy for the winter."

He spoke quite calmly. He seemed to take it
as a mere matter of ordinary arrangement that
Lady Sylvia and himself should decide where they
should spend the winter. For of course this in-
genuous youth walking with him was not to know
that Lady Syh ia had separated herself from her
husband of her own free will and choice.

"Good -by, Balfour," said the young Lord

L , as he turned off and went doyn towar,

Queen Anne's Gate. "I would have sent you
some game if Lady Sylvia had been at home : it
would be no use to a club man."

Balfour walked on, and In a second or two found
himself before the clock tower of the Houses of
Parliament, rising in all its gilded pride into the
blue summer sky. Once upon a time — and that
not so long ago — all the interests of his hfe were
centered in the gi-eat building beneath that tow-
er. When he first entered it — even in the hum-
ble capacity of member for Ballinascroon — a nev
world of activity and ambition seemed opening
up before him. But at this very moment, strange-
ly enough, the mere sight of the Houses of Parlia.
ment appeared to awaken in him a curious soi
of aversion. He had been going down to a morn-
ing sitting, rather because he had nothing else to
do than that he was interested in the business
going forward. But this first glimpse of the Par-
liament buildings caused him suddenly to changt
his mind ; he turned oflf into Parliament Street,
and called in at the offices of Mr, Billy Bolitho.

Mr. Bolitho was as cheerful and bland as usu
al. Moreover, he regarded this young man witb
sympathy, for he noticed his reserved and almost
troubled air, and he at once divined the cause
Did not every body know that some of these largt
firms were being hardly hit just then ? The fini
old trade in Manchester goods had broken dowi
before markets glutted with gray shirtings an(
jeans. The homeward consignments of teas am
silks were no longer eagerly competed for by thi
brokers. The specuUtlons in cotton to wliid
some of the larger houses had resorted were wild
er than the wildest gambling on the Stock £i
change. It was a great thing, Mr. Bolitho knew,
to have belonged to such a firm as Balfour, Skin
ner. Green, and Co. in the palmy days of eommei
but these fine times could not last forever.

"Come, Balfour," said Mr. Bolitho, bright!]

*' have

look qi

"Th

ing mv

ing at t

" V/I

forcnoc

"I'll

like," s;

The Lil

will giv

in?;. Y

ing."

Mr. J

danglinj

the end

"Dor

again, "

shire."

This,

the two

very bes

taken c

they set

away dc

strove t(

greatly c

was his '

such roa

houses a

"Hav(

he asked

"No."

"01d(

eonscient

niched

green.'

"That
of this
a demure
"And
up on tl
down an
say. Bo! it
drink a {
the bovs
"I am
€horley,'
done you
are becoi
you havt
Ballinasc
" I ma;
four, witl
tally sicl<
any desir
of it— I
^liiit it al
Boiith
good ma!
And he
robbed oj
income o'
to £6000
spoke as
"Try
two, and
Hr. BolitI
the old
value of )
"That
^on; b

/
/ V -
bifl iHfe. I hat« I
I single man with
pito you and pat- 1

von't be any mar-

I can't pronounce
two men besides

aarty. You sure-
the whole of tlie
your club by the

four throat before

rspapers are hard
imitted suicide in
should deserve the
But, seriously, I
I you to Scotland.

itum ?" asked his

p, I should think,"
Ided, " Very likely
nter."

! seemed to take it
arrangement that
decide where they
; of course this in-
m was not to know
d herself from her
and choice.

the yoimg Lord
went doyn towai\l
lid have sent you
1 been at home : it
n."

second or two found

r of the Houses of

Ided pride into the

1 a time — and tliat

ists of his life were

: beneath that tow

—even in the hum-

llinascroon — a new

)n seemed opening

•y moment, strange-

e Houses of Parlia-

him a curious sort

ig dowu to a room-

had nothing else to

ed in the business

glimpse of *he Par

suddenly to change

Parliament Street,

Mr. Billy Bolitho.

and bland as usu

is young man with

^served and almost

divined the cause

some of these large

8t then ? The fiw

I had broken dowi

gray shirtings am

nments of teas am

ompeted for by thi

n cotton to whici

resorted were wild

; on the Stock Ei

, Mr. Bolitho knet

tn as Balfour, Skin

f daysof commerw

; last forever.

'. Bolitho, bright!)

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

191

"have a gliss of sherry and a cigar. You don't
look quite up to the mark this morning."

" Thank you, I will. I believe idleness is ruin-
ing my health and spirits — thure is nothing do-
ing at the House."

*' V/liy don't you start a coach, and spend your
forenoons tli:it way?" said Bolitho, gayly.

" I'll tull you what I will do with you, if you
like," said Balfour, " I will drive you down to
The Lilacs. Come. It is a tine day, and they
will give you some sort of dinner in the even-
in>;. Vou can bo here by ten to-morrow morn-
inj?."

Mr. Bolitho was seated on a table, hia legs
dangling in the air, and he waa carefully cutting
the end off a cigar.

" Done with you," said he, getting on his feet
again, " if you first lunch with me at the Devon-
shire."

This, too, was agreed upon, and Balfour, as
the two walked up to St. James's Street, did his
very best to entertain this kind friend who had
taken compassion on hia loneliness. \nd as
they set out in the shining afternoon to drive
away do*n into the quiet of Surrey, Balfour
strove to let his companion know that he was
greatly obliged to him, and talked far more than
was his wont, although bis talk was mostly about
such roads as Lady Sylvia knew, and about such
houses as Lady Sylvia liad admired.

" Have you heard the last about Euglebury ?"
he asked.

"No."

" Old Chorley has been struck with remorse of
conscience, and has handed over that piece of ,
filched common to the town, to make a public
green." ;

" That public green was nearly keeping you out
of this Parliament," observed Mr. Bolitho, with
a demure smile.

"And there is to be a public gymnasium put
up on the ground, and I have promised to go
down and throw the thing open. What do you
«ay, Bolitho ; will you take a run down there, and
drink a glass of wine with old Cliorley, and show
the boys how to twist round a trapeze ?"

"I am very glad you have made friends with
iJhorley," said Mr. Bolitho. " He might have
'doue you a deal of mischief. But I do think you
are becoming a little more prudent; no doubt
Tou have found that all constituencies are not
Ballinascroons."

" I may have become mure prudent," said Bal-
four, with ihe indifference of a man who is men-
tally sick and out of sorts, " but it is not from
any desire to remain in Parliament. I am tired
of it — I am didgusted with it — I should like to
quit it altogether."

Boiitliu was not surprised. He had known a
good many of these spoiled children of fortune.
And he knew that, when by chance they were
robbed of some of their golden toys — say that an
income of £30,000 a year was suddenly cut down
to £5000 — they became impatient and vexed, and
spoke as if life were no lon<;cr worth having.

"Try being out of Parliament for a year or
two, and sec if you don't change your mind," said
Mr. Bolitho, jhrcwdly. " There is something in
the old proverb that says you never know the
value of any thing until you have lost it"

" That is true enough," said Balfour, with de-
tisioa ; but he was not thinking of fiaUinascroon,

nor yet of Englebury, nor of any scat in any Par«
liamcnt.

It was the cool of the evening when they got
down to Tht> Lilaci<, and very quiet and still and
beautiful lookod the cottage amidst its rose-bush-
ca and Iiuuuy8ucklc. No doubt there was a de-
serted uir about the rooms; the furniture was
covered with chiutx; every thing that could be
locked and shut up was locked and shut up. But
all the same Mr. Bolitho was glad to be taken
round the place, and to be told how Lady Sylvia
had done tiiis and had done that, and how that
the whole designing and decoration of the place
waa her own. Mr. Bolitho did not quite enter
into this worship at the shrine of a departed
saint, because he knew very well tlut if Lady
Sylvia had been at The Lilacs that evening he
would not have been there ; but of course he pro-
fessed a profo\md admiration for the manner in
whicli the limited space had been made the most
of, and declared that, for his part, he never went
into the country and saw the delights of a coun-
try house without wishing that Providence had
seen tit to make him a farmer or squire.

And Mr. Bolitho got a fairly good dinner, too,
considering that tiiere were in the place only the
housekeeper and a single servant, bcfiides the
gardener. They would not remain in-doors after
dinner on such u beautiful evening. They went
out to smoke a cigar in the garden, and the skies
were clear over them, and the cool winds of the
night were sweetened with the scent of flow-
ers.

" They have no such refreshing coolness as thia
after the hot days in America," said Balfour ; " at
least so they teil me. It must be a dreadful busi-
ness, after the glare of the day, to iind no relief —
to find the night as hot as the day. But I sup-
pose they have got over the hottest of the weather
there."

" Where is Lady Sylvia now ?" asked Mr. Boli-
tho, seeing that the thoughts of the young man
— troubled as they must be by these commercial
cares — were nevertheless often turned to the dis-
tant lands in which his wife was wandering.

" Up toward Canada, I should think," he said.
"Soon she will be out in the West — and there it
is cool even in tlie heat of summer."

'I don't wonder you remained in England,"
said Mr. Bolitho, frankly.

"Why?" said Balfour, who could not under-
stand Mr. Bolitho's having an opinion about the
matter in any direction.

" Things have not been going well in the City,"
said Mr. Bolitho, cautiously.

" I suppose not," said Balfour, carelessly.
" But that does not concern me much. I never
interfere in the business arrangements of our
firm ; the men whom my father trusted I can af-
ford to trust. But I suppose you arc right. There
has been overspeculation. Fortunately, my part-
ners are sufficiently cautious^ men , they have al-
readv made money ; they don't need to gam-
ble.""

Bolitho was troubled in his mind. Was the
young man acting a part, or was he really igno-
rant of the riunor that his partners, finding the
profits on their business gradually diminishing,
and having sustained severe losses in one or two
directions, liad put a considerable portion of their
capital into one or two investments which were
at that very time being proved tu be gigMitio

lO'i

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

frauds * After all, Bolitho was a generously dis-
posed man.

" Balfour," said he, "you won't mind my speak-
ing frankly to you ?"

"Certainly not."

" Well, I don't know how far you examine into
the details of the business transactions of your
firm ; but, you know, commercial things have been
in a bad way of late, and you ought — I mean any
man situated as you are — ought to ue a little par-
ticular."

" Oh, I am quite satisfied," Balfour said. " I
don't know much about business ; but I can un-
derstand the profit and loss and capital accounts
in the ledger, and these I periodically examine.
Why, the firm gave £1000 to the last Mansion
House Fund !"

Bolitho had heard before of firms hopelessly
bankrupt mnking such dramatic displays of wealth
in order to stnvi- off the evil day ; but of course he
did not muntiun such a thing in connection with
Buch a house as Balfour, Skinner, Green, and Co.
He only saiil that he was glad to find that Balfour
did examine the books.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

FURTiIEK rOOKINOS UACK.

What was it, then, this feeling of inexplicable
unrest and anxiety that possessed us as we drew
near Niagara? Was it the fear of being disap-
pointed ? Was it the fear of being overawed ?
Or was it that mysterious vagus nerve catching
somctliing of the vibration that the vast cata-
racts sent shuddering through the land ?

It was a blaising hot day, and the two scraggy
horses were painfully hauling the rumbling old
omnibus up a steep and dusty hil' to the Clifton
House hotel. Through the small window we
could look down into the deep gorge, and there
were no foaming rapids, but a deep, narrow, ap-
parently motionless river of a singularly rich
green color. .It was an opaque, solid green, not
unlike sealing-wax, and the smooth shining sur-
face had here and there a bold swirl of white.
Then the sides of the gorge showed masses of
ruddy rocks and green trees, and there was the
brilliant blue overhead — altogether a German lith-
ograph.

But why this curious unrest, while as yet the
Falls were far away and out of sight V Well,
there were two of us in that little omnibus who
once upon a time saw a strange thing, never to
be forgotten. We had climbed up from Cha-
mounix to the small hostelry '^f Montunvert.
We were going down the rugged little mountain
path to cross the Mer de Glace. But where the
great glacier lay in the high valley, and all over
that, and all beyond that, nothing was visible but
a vague gray mist that seemed to be inclasp-
ing the world. We stumbled on through the
cold, damp atmosphere, until we found before us
the great masses of ice in their spectral greens
and whites. 1 think it was just about tliis time,
when we had reached the edge of the glacier,
that we were suddenly arrested by a wonderful ,
sight. Right overhead, as it were, and fur above I
the floating seas of mist, gleamed a wild break
of dazsling blue, and far into this, so far away i
that the very distance seemed awful, rose a ae- ;

ries of majestic peaks, their riven sides sparkling
with sun-lit snows. It was a terrible thin;; tu
sec. All around us the solemn world of icu and
shadows ; above us the other and silviit and Ik-.
wildering world of light, with those glitturiii»
peaks cleaving the blue as if they would piorw
to the very throne of heaven. The pliantasiiml
fog-clouds went this way and that, taking strange
shapes as th'^y floated over the glacier and sliow-
ed us visionary glimpses of the lower mountains;
but there was neither cloud nor fog nor mist in
that distant dome, and the giant peaks stood un-
approachable there in their lonsly and awful
splendor. To have seen this sight once is a thing
to be remembered during a man's lifetime; it is
an experience that perhaps few of us would care
to repeat. Was this strange unrest, then, a sen-
sation of fear ? Did we shrink from the first
shock of a sight that might be too terrible in its
majesty ?

If that were so, we were speedily re-assured.
Through this port-hole of a window we caught a
glimpse of something white and gray, and as we
recognized from many pictures the American
Falls, it was with a certain sense of comfort that
we knew this thing to be graspable. And as we
got further along, the beautiful, fair, calm pic-
ture came better into view , and it seenied to be
fitting that over this silent sheet of white waver,
and over the mass of dark rocks and tree;. V:
yond, there sliould be a placid pble blue summer
sky. Further on we go, and now we come in
sight of something vaster, but still placid and
beautiful and silent. We know from the deep
indentation and the projection in the middle that
these are the Horseshoe Falls , and they seem to
be a stupendous seinii-ircular wall of solid and
motionless stalactites, with a touch of green at
the summit of the mighty pillars of snow. We
see no motion, we hear no sound ; they are as
frozen falls, with the sunlight touching them here
and there, and leaving their shadows a pale gray.
But we knew that this vast white thing was net
motionless ; for in the centre of that semicircle
rose a great white column of vapor, softly spread-
ing itself abroad as it ascended into the pale blue
sky, and shutting out altogether the dark table
land beyond the high line of the Falls. And a^
we got out of the vehicle and .walked down to-
ward the edge of the precipice, the air around us
was filled with a low and murmuring sound, soft,
continuous, muffled, and remote; and now we
could catch the downward motion of these fall-
ing volumes of water, the friction of the air fraj'
ing the surface of the heavy masses into a soft
and feathery white. There was nothing here
that was awful and bewildering, but a beautit'ul,
graceful spectacle — the white surface of the de-
scending water looking almost lace-like in its
texture — that accorded well with the still pale
blue of the sky overhead. It was something to
gaze on with a placid and sensuous satisfaction,
perhaps because the continuous, monotonous mur-
mur of sound was soothing, alumbcrous, dream-
like.

But Bell's quick eye was not directed solely to
this calm and beautiful picture. She saw that
Lady Sylvia was disturbed and anxious.

" Had we not better go into the hoto! at once?'
said she. " There is no use trying to sec Niagan
in a minute. It has ',o be done systematicallj.
And besides, there may be letters waitiog for us,"

GREEN PASTURES AND PICO.\DILLY.

loa

>n sides sparkling
terriblo thins to
, world of icu und |
,iid siluiit and Ih.-
I thuse );litterlii<;
they would pierue
The pliantasiual 1
at, taking strange
glacier and show-
lower mountains; 1
ir fog nor mist in
it peaks stood un>
lonely and awful
ght once is a thing
m's lifelime ; it is
T of US would uare |
inrest, then, a sen-
nk from the first I
I too terrible in its |

3eedily re-assured,
ndow we caught a
id gray, and as we
■es the American
se of comfort that
rnble. And as we
ful, fair, calm pic-
nd it seemed to be
set of white water,
ocks and troef * ;
pble blue summer
. now we come in
ut still placid and
low from the deep
i in the middle that
, and they seem to
wall of solid and
touch of greeu at
are of snow. We
ound ; they are as
touching them here
ladows a pule gray.
rhite thing was net
of that semicircle
apor, softly spread
i into the pale blue
ler the dark table-
the Falls. And as
i .walked down to-
!, the air around us
uuring sound, soit,
)te; and now we
>tiou of these fall-
ion of the air fray-
masses into a soft
was nothing hero
tg, but a beautiful,
surface of the de-
ist laec-like in its
rith the still pale
was something to
isuous satisfaction,
J, monotonous mur
ilumbcrouB, dream-

t directed solely to
re. She saw that
anxious,
the bote', at once f
j|ng to see Niagan
me systematicallj.
waiting for us,"

"Oh yes, certain:^," said Lady Sylvia; and
then she added, seriously, as if her whole thoughts
bad been centred on the Falls, " It is a very hope-
ful thing that wc have not. been disappointed at
the first sight. They say nearly every one is. I
dare say it will be some days before wo get to
anderstand the grandeur of Niagara."

" My dear Lady Sylvia," said one of us, an we
were ail walking up to the hotel, "you iright
spend thirty years here in such weather as this
without knowing any thing of the grandeu r of
Niagara. There is no mysticism possible with a
pale blue sky. I will endeavor to expound tk-'s
matter to you after luncheon — "

"Oott bewahre 1" exclaims the Gei man, flip-
pantly.

" — And I will show you that the size of any
natural object has nothing to do with the effect
it produces on the mind. I will show you how,
with a proper atmospheric effect, an artist could
make a more impressive picture of an insignifi-
cant island off the coast of Mull than he could if
he painted Mont Blunc, under blue skies, on a
cauvHS fifty feet square. The poetry of nature
is ail a question of atmosphere ; failing that you
may as well fall back on a drawing-master's no-
tion of the picturesque — a broken mill-whucl and
t withered tree. My dear friends — "

" Perhaps you will explain to us, then," said
Bell, not earing how she interrupted this valu-
able lecture, " how, if we can put grandeur into
any thing by waiting till a little mist and gloom
sets round it — if there is nothing in size at all —
how we were so foolish as to come to Niagara at
tU ? What did we come for f"

" I really don't know."

"He is only talking nonsense, Belli" says a
sharper voice ; and we reach the hotel.

But there are no letters.

" I thought not,' says Queen T , cheerful-
ly; aa if news from England was a matter of
profound indifference to every one of us. " But
there is no hurry. There is no chance of our
missing them, as we shall be here some days."

" I suppose they will have some English news-
papers here ?" suggested Lady Sylvia, just as if
ihe had been in Brussels or Cologne.

" I should think not. If there are any, they
will be old enough. What do you want with En-
glish newspapers, Lf\dy Sylvia?"

"I want to see what has been going on in
Parliament," she answers, without the least
flinching.

" What a desperate patriot you are. Lady Syl-
via!" says Bell, laughing, as we go up the stairs
(0 our rooms. " 1 don't think I ever read a de-
bate in my life — except about Mr. Plimsoll."

" But your husband is not in Parliament," re-
turns Lady Sylvia, with blushing courage.

"And where your treasure is there will your

heart be," says Queen T in a gay and care-

Ima fashion ; but she has a gentle hand within
her friend's arm ; und then she takes the key to
open the door uf her room for her, treating her
altogether like a spoiled child.

The after-luncheon lecture ou the sublime in
nature never came off; for these carelesH gad-
abouts, heedless of instruction and the proper
tuition of the mind, must needs hire a cuniage tt)
drive forthwith to the Rapids above the Falls.

And Queen T had begged Lady Sylvia to

take her water-proof with her ; and the lieutoo-

ant, perched up beside the driver, was furnished'
with a coiipk' of uinbrelliiH. 80 we set out.

And very soon we hegiiii to fan something of
the mighty voliinie of water falling over the
Horseshoe Fall ; for right away in there at the
middle of the bend theie was no white fomn at
all, hut a projeethig, uneeasing bound of clear
crystal of a curioualy brilliant green, into which
the sun struck deep. And what about the want
of vapor and atmospheric effect ? Presently we
found ourselves in a sort of water-witch's para-
disc. Far below us boiled that hell-caldron of
white smoke — roaring and thundering so tliat
the ground around us trembled — and then this
mighty pillar, rising and spreading over the land-
scape, enveloped us in clouds of shifting shapes
and colors through which the gleaming green isl-
ands by the side of the road appeared to be mere
fantasies of the eye. The earth and the sky
sttemed to be inextricably mixed up in this con-
fusion of water and sunlight. We were in a be-
wilderment of rainbows — the pale colors coming
right up to the wheels of the carriage, and shin-
ing between us and the flowing streams and wa-
tjr-weeds a few yards off. And then again we
drove on and right through this Undine world;
and behold I we were in hot sunshine again, and
Tolling along a road that sent volumes of dust
over us. It was only a iiick of the great mother
Nature. She had been treating her poor children
to a bath, and now took this effectual method
of drying them. And the dust about Niagara is
the most dry and choking dust in the world.

We drove away round so us to get beyond the
Falls, and then descended to the side of the no-
ble river. Here we found the inevitable muse-
um of photographs and pebbles, and a still stranger
exhibition. We were professed sight-seers ; and
we agreed to see the burning spring of the In-
dians, no matter what the wild excitemcit might
cost. So we were conducted into a little dark
lYMm, in the floor of which was a hole, covered
over. The perfonner — who was not attired in the
garb of the wild man of the woods, as he ought
to have been — removed the lid, and began to play
a great many pranks with the gas which rose from
the well. It was really wonderful. Some of us
were carried away m imagination to the beautiful
days in which a penny paid on entrance to a can-
vas tent unlocked more marvels than were known
to all the wise men of the East. But this per-
formance was monotonous. In vain we waited
for our friend to open another door and show ua
the fat woman of Scandinavia. It was merely
trifling with our feel'ngs to offer each of us a
gbss of the fire-water to drink. We resented
this insult, and sought the outer air again, having
paid — what was it? — for that revelation of the
wonders of Naturn.

There was a g inder sight outside — the great
rapids *hirling uy at our very feet toward the
sudden and sheer descent. The wild plain of
waters seemed broader than any river ; the hori-
zon line was as the horizon of the sea, but it was
a line broken by the wild tossing of the waves as
they came hurrying ou to their doom. High over
the green masses of the water the white crests
were flung this wuy and that ; in the maddening
race and whirl these wild uprearings rc'sembled
— wlio made this suggestion? — the eager out-
stretched hands of the dense crowd of worshipers
who strive fur the. holy fire passing over their

104

GltEEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

ti-i

heads. And liere, too, tl. noise of the rushing
of the waters still sounded niuflSed and remote,
as if the great river were falling, not into the
chasm below, but into tho very bowels of the
earth, too far away from us to be seen or heard.

A ttery red sunset was burning over the green
woods and tho level landscape and the dusty roads
as we drove away bauk again, and down to the
whirl{H)ol below the Falls. Indeed, by the time
we reached the point from which we were to de-
scend into the gorge, the sun had gone down, the
west had paled, and there was a cold twilight
over tho deep chasm through which the dark
green river rolls. There was something very im-
pressive in these sombre waters — their rapidity
and force only marked by the whirling by of suc-
cessive p'nc-trees — and in the sheer precipices
on each side, scarred with ruddy rocks and sunless
woods. Down here, too, there were no photo-
graphs, or Indians selling sham trinkets, or mu-
seums ; only the solemnity of the gathering dusk,
and tho awful whirling by of the sullen water,
and the distant and unceasing roar. The outlines
of the landscape were lost, and we began to think
of the sen.

And very pleasant it was that evening to sit up
in the high balcony, as the night came on and
the moon rose over the dark trees, and watch th9
growing liglit touch the edge of the far-reaching
falls just where the water plunged. The great
pillar of foam was dark now, and the American
Falls, opposite us, were no longer white, but of a
^lystic gray ; but out there at the head of the
Horseshoe Falls the moonlight caught the water
sharply, gleaming between the black rocks and
trees of Qoat Island and the black rocks and
trees of the main-land.

It was a beautiful sight, calm and peaceful, and
we could almost have imagined that we were once
more on the deck of the great vessel, with the
placid night around us, and the sound of the waves
in our ears, and Bell singing to us, " Kuw, broth-
ers, TOW, the daylight's past." You see, no human
being is ever satisfied with what is before his
eyes. If he is on land, he is thinking of the sea ;
if he is on the sea, he is dreaming of the land.
What madness possessed us in England that we
should crave to see the p'ains of the far West,
knowing that our first thought there would be di-
rected back to England 1^ For Bell and her hus-
band all this business was a duty ; for us, a dream.
And now that we had come to these Niagam Falls,
which are famous all over the world, and now
that we could sit and look at them with all the
mystery and magic of a summer night around us,
of what were we thinking ?

"It will be beautiful up on Mickleham Downs
to-night," says Bell, suddenly.

It is the belief of the present writer that every
one of these senseless people w.'s thinking of his
or her home at this moment, for they set off at
once to talk about Surrey as if there was nothing
in the world but that familiar English county ;
and you would have imagined that a stroll on
Mickleham Downs on a moonlight night was the
extreme point to which the happiness of a human
being could attain.

" Lady Sylv'i," says Queen T , in a gentle

under-tone, and she puts a kindly hand on the
hand of her frisnd, " shall wc put on our bonnets
and walk over to The Lilacs now ? There might
be a light in the windows." .

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

SAUBO.

On a blazing, hot, dry day in August, two strangi
creatures might have been seen carefully picking
their steps down a narrow path cut in the steep
precipice that ov<^^rlook8 the whirling and hurry,
ing waters of Niagara. They were apparently
Esquimaux ; and they were attended by a third
person, also apparently an Esquimau. All three
wore heavy and amorphous garments of a blue
woolen stuff ; but these were mostly concealed by
capacious oil-skins. They had yellow oil-skin
cnps tiglitly strapped on their heads ; yellow oil-
skin jackets with flapping sleeves ; yellow oil.
skin trousers of great width, but no particular
shape ; and shoes of felt. One of the two trav-
ellers wore — alas ! — spectacles.

These heavy garments became less hot as tht
Esquimaux began to receive shooting spurts of
spray from the rocks overhead ; and when, fol-
lowing their ^uide, they had to stand in a shower-
bath for a few seconds, while he unlocked a small
and mysterious portal, the cool splashing was not
at all uncomfortable. But when, having passed
through this gate, they had to descend some ex-
ceedingly steep and exceedingly slippery wooden
steps, they discovered that even a shower-bath on
a hot day may become too much of a good thing,
For now tliey begun to receive blows on the head,
and blows on the shoulders, as thoufrU an ava.
lanche of pebbles was upon them , while strangt
gusts of wind, blowing up from some wild caldron
below, dashed across their faces and mouths, blind-
ing nnd choking thom. And in the booming and
thundering sound all around tl^em, had not the
taller of the two travellers to stop, and seize bit
companion's arm, and yell with all his might be-
fore he could be heard :

" Donnerwetter ! what a fellow that was in tht
guide-book ! I will swear he never came through
that gate ! He said you must take off your collar
and gloves, or you will get them wet! Ho, ho!
Your collar and gloves ! Ho, ho !"

But the laughter sounds wild and unearthly in
the thunder of tho falluig waters and the pistol-
shots hammering on one's head. Still further
down the slippery steps go these three figures;
and the roar increases; and the wild gusts rag«
with fiercer violence, as if they would whirl thest
three yellow phantoms into mid- air. The vagui
nerve declares that iu all its life it never was treat-
ed in this way before -, for what with the boom-
ing in the ears, and the rattling on the head, and
the choking of the mouth, it has got altogether
bewildered. The last of the wooden steps ii
reached; the travellers are on slippery rocks;
and now before them is a vast and gloomy cave^
and there is a wild whirlpool of "ashing water in
it and outside it ; between the travellers and tlit
outside world is a blinding wall of water, torn bj
the winds into sheets of gray and white, and
plunging down as if it would reach the very cen-
tre of the earth. The roar iliiil'-scribable. And
how is it that the rushing cumuts of wind invi-
■' bly sweep upward, as if to fight the falling
ti .ses of white water, and go whirling a smoki
of foam all about the higher reaches of this awful
cavern?

Here ensues a piteous and painful spectacle
No doubt these two tiavellers had gone down tt
this Cave of the Winds to be suitably impresseijl

fleeting

OREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

105

III.

gtiHt, two Btrangi
caiufully picking
cut in tlie steep
irling and hurry,
were apparcntlj
ended by a tliird
imau. All thre«
rinents of a blue
iBtly concealed by
1 yellow oil-skin
eads ; yellow oil-
eves; yellow oil-
)ut no particular
I of the two trar-

le less hot as tht
hooting spurts of
1 ; and when, fol-
land in a shower-
unlocked a small
ftplaahing was not
en, having passed
descend soino ex-
^ slippery wooden
a shower-bath on
li of a good thing,
)lowB on the head,
IS thoujr'j an ava-
>m , while Strang*
some wild caldron
and mouths, blind-
1 the booming and
l^em, had not the
itop, and seize bii
1 all his might be-

)w that was in tht
i\er came through
ake off your collar
im wet! Ho, ho!
10 !"

I and unearthly in
JV8 and the pistol-
»id. Still further
ese three figures;
le wild gusts rag*
would whirl thest
d air. The vagiii
it never was treat-
it with the boom-
on the head, and
Has got altogether
wooden steps ii
n slippery rocks;
and gloomy cave,
if 'ashing water ii
travellers and tht
I of water, torn by
and white, and
each the very cen-
(1 iscribable. And
u Its of wind inv»
tight the falling
whirling a smokt
iches of this awful

painful spectaclt
had gone down tt
luitably impressed

Ko doubt they had read with deep attention the
description of getting behind the Falls written by
gentlemen who had adventured some little way
behind the Horseshoe Falls— -on the other side —
and who had gone home, with damp gloves, to j
wrive an account of the business, and to invoke
the name of their Maker in order to give strength
to their intransitive verbs. But could any thing
in the world be more ludicrous than the spectacle
of a man, with Niagara tiunbling on his head, try-
ing to keep his spectacles dry V It was in vain
that the guide had warned him to leave these be-
hind him. It was in vain that his companion had
besought him. And there he stood, in the midst
of this booming and infernal cavern, trying to get
furtive snatches through his mljerable spectacles
by rapidly passing over them a wet handkerchief.
Then a fiercer gust than usual whirled the hand-
kerchief out of his hand, and sent it flying upward
until it disappeared in the smoke of the spray.
After that, mute despair.

For now, as dumb signs declared, it was nec-
essary to pass round the back of this wild cavern
by a narrow path between the lashing waters and
the rocks ; one hand on the rocks, the other
gripped by the guide, the eyes keeping a sharp
look-out, as far as was possible in the gloom, for
one's footing. But how could this miserable
creature with the swimniing spectacles accom-
plish this, feat? Blind Bartimeus would have
been safer; for he, at least, would have had both
hands free. It was with a piteous look that he held
out the spectacles and shook his head. The face
of the attendant Esquimau plainly said, " I told you
to" — speech was impossible amidst this thunder.

And now this helpless person, being left alone
at the entrance to the cave, and alternating the
efforts of spray-blinded eyes with quick glances
through spectacles dried by a dripping oil-skin
sleeve, saw some strange things. For at flrst it ap-
peared to him that there was nothing visible in the
outer world but this unceasing plunge of masses
of water, that crushed upon the rocks, and sprung
out into mid-a'r, whirling about in mad fashion
with the twisting hurricanes of wind. But by-
and-by — and apparently immeasurable leagues
away — he caught fitful glances of a faint roseate
color, a glow that seemed to have no form or
substance. And then again, with the rapidity of
a dream, a glimmer appeared as of sunlight on
brown rocks ; and for an instant he thought he
saw some long wooden poles of a bright red, sup-
ported in mid-air. Was that, then, the bridge
outside the Falls by which the other two phan-
toms wore to return ? But the whole thing was
fleeting and unsubstantial; and again the wild
gray mists closed over it ; while the vagus nerve
protested horribly against this perpetual ham-
mering on the head For a moment the frantic
thought occurred to him that he would sacrifice
these accursed spectacles — that he would dash
them into the foaming caldron — that he would
at all risks clamber round the black walls with
both hands unencumbered. But the vagus nerve
—which seems to form a sort of physical con-
science — intervened. "Think of your loving
wife and tender babes," it said. • " Think of your
duty as one of the magistrates of Surrey. Above
all, consider what the wise Frenchman said,
'When one is dead, it is for a very long time;'
and cheerfully, and without a pang* sacrifice the
dollars you have paid."

Another vision through this Walpurgis danoe
of waters. Far away — as it' another world alto-
gether was re>realing it!«elf — two figures appeared
in mid-air, and they seemed to he clambering
alone by the rose-red poles. But thero was no
substance in them. Tlicy were as aerial as the
vapor through which they faintly gleamed. They
passed on, a[iparently descending toward certain
phantasmal shadows that may have been rocks,
and were seen no more.

It was about ten minutes thereafter that the
wooden portal above was re-opened, and the
three Esquimaux, dripping inside and out, stood
in the dry air. And now it seemed as if the
great landscape around was dyed in the intcnseat
colors ; and the eyes, long harassed by these be-
wildering grays and whites, roved in a delighted
manner over the ruddy rocks, and the green
woods, and the blue of the skies. And the hot
air was no longer too hot after this mighty show-
er-bath; while the lieutenant, his face glowing
after the wet, and his beard in twisted and flaky
tangles, was declaring that the passage along
these slippery boards was about as bad as the
Mauvais Pas. Was it to flutter him — as every
captain is ready to flatter his passengers on get-
ting them into port by telling them he has not
experienced such a storm for five-and-twenty
years — that the attendant Esquimau observed
that it was an unusually bad day for the Cave,
owing to the direction of the wind ? In any case,
the lieutenant answc red, it was a good thing ho
had not asked any of his lady friends to accom-
pany him.

But of course these gentle creatures insisted
on going down to the old and familiar passage
behind the Horseshoe Falls which has been tlie
theme of much eloquent writing ; and according-
ly, in the afternoon, we all went along to a big
building that reminded us at once of Chamouniz,
so crammed was it with photographs, trinkets,
guiius, and tourists. Here, for a trifling charge,
we were accommodated with a few loose water-
proofs to throw over our ordinary costumes ; and,
thus attired, we crossed the road, and struck down
the narrow and sloppy path *«>adiug to the Falls.
We would have no guide. If tuere was a guide
at all, it was a courageous person who had bold-
ly left his spectacles in the building above, and
had sworn — in his purblind state — to accomplish
this desperate enterprise or perish in the attempt.
Undaunted, he and his companions passed by
several ladies who were busy making water-color
drav/ings — having cunningly chosen positions
where they could get a good lump of red rock and
some bushes for their foreground. Undaunted,
they met the preliminary challenges — as it were
— of the Horseshoe Falls in the shape of little
spouts of water; in fact, these were only the
playful and capricious attentions that Undine's
knight received when her uncle was in a good
humor and attended him through the gloomy for-
est. These spouts and jets increased to a show-
er, and the path grew narrower, so that we bad
to exercise some caution in allowing returning
explorers to pass us — more especially as we were
shod, not in gripping felt, but in goloshes of enor-
mous size. But what of that ? We should hare
pressed forward, if each foot had been in a canoe.
And it was shameful to see at this time how
the lieutenant paid alntost no heed at all to hla
wife — ^to tho mother of his ohildreu— to tlM

too

GREEN PAHTUREH AND PICCADILLY.

■4
I

friendlesR und forlorn creature who hnd been
buninhod from her native liind ; but almoRt ex-
cluHively devoted liimself to Lady Sylvia, whom
he led iu the van of the party. Not only did he
give her hiH hand iit all the narrow placei*, but
even, in order to do ho, wuh bold euou(;h to ven-
ture outside on the bmkon and brittle tdate, hi a
fashion which no lather of a family dIiouKI per-
mit hiniBelf. But uh for Dell, she wuh not born
in WeHlniorelund for nothing. She wallu'il along
thlH ledge aH freely ami varuluHsly ns if tliu had
been walking in Oxford Street. When she looked
down the nheer precipiue, it wuh only to admire
the beautiful colors of the green water, here
twirling in great circles of foam. We tirmly be-
lieved that she was singing aloud the niurmaid's
aoug iu Oberon ; but of course we could not hear
her.

For now the booming of the Falls was dose at
hand ; and wo found in front of us a ledge or
plateau running away in between the high wall
of rock and the mighty musses of water shooting
downward in a confusion of mist and spray. Unc
by one we entered into this twilit hall of the
water gods ; and, after trying to overmaster or
get accustomed to the thundering roar, placed
our backs to the rocks, and confronted the spec-
tacle before uh. What was it, then "i Only per-
petual downward streaks of gruy; a slight upward
motion, as if the wind was fraying the surtuce of
these muMSCs; a confused whirling overhead of
gray vapor; and at our feet a narrow ledge of
black and crumbling ruck that trembled with the
reverberation of the crush below. The strange
twilight of this hull of waters was certainly im-
pressive; and there was something in our en-
forced silence, and in the shaking of the ground
on which we stood, to add to the impression.
Here, too, there were none of the fierce hurricane
gusts of the " Cave of the Winds" to buffet the
eyes and choke the mouth and nostrils. Nor hud
the vagus nerve to contend with the hammering
of tongs on the head. No doubt, a cultivator of
the emotions might come down here with a fair
presumption thut beuutifiil feelings would arise
within him. Ue might even bring a chair with
him, and sit down and wait for them. And when
he clambered up into tho dry air again, he would
find himself none the worse, except, perhaps, ihat
his gloves might be damp.

But onward — onwai-d. The goal has to be
reached : let those whose vagus nerve remonstrates
remain behind. And now the darkness increases
somewhat ; and the narrow ledge, rising and fall-
ing, and twisting round the edge oi' the rockp, is
Uke a black snake at one's feet, and the wind
.ind water around one's face seem more inextri-
cably mixed than ever. But has the world come
to an end "i Have the rocks, too, been mixed up
with the vapor ? Have we got to the verge of the
visible universe, to find ourselves confronted by
nothing but misty phantoms ? Suddenly one feels
a hand on one's shoulder. With caution and a
tight grip one turns. And what is this wild
thing gleaming through the gray vapor — a great
black face, shining aud smiling and dripping,
brilliant rows of teeth, and coal-black eyes?
And what is this thing that he yells high and
clear, so that it is heard even through the roar
»nd thunder around, " You kent go no forder den
dawt!" 'Tis well, friend — Sambo, or Potiphar,
or whatever you may be. You are very like the

devil, down here in this wild place ; but thero liaa
been a mistake about the element. 'Tis well, nev.
erthelesH ; and a half dollar shall bo thine whvn
we get back to dry air and daylight.

Our women-folk were greatly pleased with this
excursion, and began to ansume superior airs,
At dinner there was a wild and excited tolk of
the fearful things they had seen and dui.u— a
jumble of maddened horses, runaway couches,
sinking boats, and breaking lee— so that you
would have thought that such an assemblnge of
daring spirits hud never met before under one roof.

"These arc pleasant things to hear of," it is
remarked, "especially for the father of a fninily,
When one listens to such pranks and escupeKon
the part of respectable married people, one bc'<;in9
to wonder what is likely to be happening to two
harum-scarum boys. I hare no doubt that at this
moment they are hewing off their thumbs with
jackknives, and trying to hang the pony up to a
tree, and loading the gardener's gun with four
pounds of powder and three marbles. What do
you say, Bell V"

" I have no doubt they are all asleep," answered
that practical young matron, who has never been
able to decide whether American time is before
English time or the reverse.

Well, we got «ir letters at Niagara, and were
then free to set out for the far W»at. There
was nothing in these letters but the usual domes-
tic tidings. Lord Wiilowby expressed surprise
to his dutighter that' Balfour should intend, us he
imderstood, to remain in London during the nu
tumn , that wns nil the mention of her huf^hnnd
that Lady Sylvin roccivod. Whether she blood-
ed over it cun only be conjectured; but to all
eyes it wns clour tiiat Aw was not at this time
solely occupied in thinking about Niagara.

Our favorite point uf view hed by this time
come to be certain chosen spots on the American
side, close by those immense bodies of green wa
ter that came gliding on so swiftly and smoothly,
that fell away into soft traceries of white as the
wind caught their surface, and that left biliiud
them, as they plunged into the unknown gulf be-
low, showers of diamonds that gleamed in the sun
as they remained suspended in the upward cur
rents of air. But perhaps our last view was the
finest of all, aud that as we were leaving from
the Canadian side. The clear blue day was sud
denly clouded over by a thunder-storm. Up out
of the southwest came rolling masses of cloud,
and these threw an awful gloom over the plain
of waters above the Falls, while the narrow neck
of land adjacent was as black as night. Then
from a break in those sombre clouds one glean
of light fell flashing on the very centre of the
Horseshoe Falls, the wonderful green shining out
more brilliantly than ever, while nearer at hand
one or two random shafts of light struck down
on the white foam that was whirling onward into
the dark gorge. That was our final glimpse of
Niagara ; but perhaps not the one that will remain
longest in the memory. Surely we had no inten-
tion of weaving any thine comic or fantastic into
our notion of Niagara wlien we went down that
dripping path on the hot August afternoon. But
now we often talk of Sambo — if such was his name
— of the tall and dusky demon who burst upoi
us through floating clouds of vapor. Does he still
haunt that watery den — a gloomy shape, yet not
awful, but rather kind-hcaited and smiling, in the

OREKN PASTURES A' PICCADILLY.

ICO ; bnt there liai|
nt. 'TiH wi'll, ncv
mil bu thiiiti wIiuqJ
light.

i plunHcd with this
tiie superior njrg.
id excited talk of
teen and duuc— a
runaway couches,
ice — 80 tliat you
un assemblage of
ore under one roof,
I to hear of," it is
father of a fninily,
ks and eHcupcH on
people, one begins
happening to tm
3 doubt that nt this
their thumbs witli
i the pony up to a
ir's gun with four
larbles. What do

; asleep," answered
ho lias never been
can time is before

Niagara, and were
far W««t. There
It the usual domes-
expressed surprise
lould intend, us he
Ion during the nU'
^n of her hii.sbnnd
'hethcr she bi'oo<l-
ctiired; but to
) not at this time
)ut Niagara,
had by this time
s on the American
odies of green wa-
ftly and smoothly,
es of white as the
that left boliiiid
unknown gulf be-
;leamed in the sun
1 the upward cur-
last view was the
Hrere leaving from
blue day was sud-
3r-storm. Up out
masses of cloud,
am over the plain
B the narrow neck
as night. Then
clouds one gleam
cry centre of the
green shining out
le nearer at hand
light struck down
irling onward into
final glimpse of
le that will remiiin
r we had no inten-
c or fantastic into
went down that
t afternoon. But
such was his name
n who burst upon
por. Does he still
ray shape, yet not
md smiling, in the

aidst of these unsubstantial visions f Or have
the swift waters seized him long ngo, and whirled
bim away beyond the reach of human eyef* and eni-s f

CHAPTER XXXIX

THR C0LLAP8R.

Lord Willowbt had heard of the arrival of
his son-in-law at The Lilacs ; and on the follow-
iog morning he drove over to see if he were still
there. He found Balfour alone, Mr. Bolitho hav-
ing gone up to town by an early train.

"What a lucky chance!" said Lord Willowby,
with one of his sudden and galvanic smiles. " If
you have nothing better to do, why not go on with
mc to The Hollow ; you know this is the first day
of the sale there."

" Well, yes, I will go over with you for an hour
or so ; I need not be up in town before the after-
noon," answered Balfour. " And I should like to
ice how that fellow lived."

He certainly did not propose to himself to buy
any second-hand chairs, l)ooks, or candlesticks at
this sale ; nor did he imagihe that his father-in-
law had much superfluous cash to dispose of in
that way. But he had some curiosity to see what
sort of house this was that had had lately for its
occupant a person who had given rise to a good
deal of gossip in that neighborhood. He was a
man who had suddenly inliorited a largo fortune,
and who had set to work to spend it lavishly.
His reputation and habits being a trifle " off col-
or," as the phrase is, he had fallen back for com-
panionship on a number of parasitical persons,
who doubtless earned a liberal commission on the
foolish purchases they induced him to make.
Then this Surrey Sardanapalus, having surround-
ed himt«elf with all the sham gorgeousness he
could think of, proceeded to put an end to him-
self by means of brandy-and-soda. He effected
his purpose in a short time, and that is all that
need here be said of him.

It was a pitiable sight enough — this great,
castellated, beplastered, ostentatious house, that
had a certain gloom and isolation about it, hand-
ed over to the occupancy of a cheerfully inquisi-
tive crowd, who showed no hesitation at all in
fingering over the dead man's trinkets, and open-
ing his desks and cabinets. His very clothes
were hanging up there in a ghastly row, each
article numbered off as a lot. In the room in
which he had but recently died, a fins, tall, fresh-
colored farmer — dressed for the occasion in broad-
cloth — was discussing with his wife what price
the bedstead would probably fetch. And there
was a bar, with sherry and sandwiches. And
on the lawn outside the auctioneer had put up
bis tent, and the flag erected over the tent was
of the gayest colors.

Lord Willowby and Balfour strolled through
these rooms, both forbearing to say what they
thought of all this tawdry magnificence : panel-
ingB of blue silk and silver, with a carpet of pink
roses on a green ground, candelabra, costing
£1800, the auctioneer's reserve price on which
was £800, improvised ancestor^, at a guinea a
head, looking out of gorgeous frames, and so
forth, and so forth. They glanced at the cata-
kigae occasionally. It was an imposing volume,
and the descriptions of the contents of the house
were almost poeticaL

" Look at the wines," said Lord Willowby, with
a coinpasiionato smile. "The claret is nearly
all Lafitte. I suppose those toadies of his have
supplied liiin with a vin oi-dinaire at It^l) shillings
a .dozen."

" I should not be surprised if a lot of these
spurious things sold for more than lie gave for
them," Balfour said. " You will find people im-
agining every thing to be fine bccaiiHe a rich
man bought it. That claret would fet(;li a high
price, depend on it, if it was all labeled ' Chftteau
Wandsworth.' "

Then there was the ringing of a bell ; and the
people began to stream out of the house into the
marquee ; and the auctioneer had an improvised
rostriiiii put up tor himself at the end of the
long tabic ; and then the bare-armed men began
to carry out the various articles to be bid for.
It was soon very evident that prices were run-
ning high. No doubt the farmers about would
be proud to show to their friends a dispatch-box,
a bird-cage, a hall table — any thing that had be*
longed to the owner of The Hollow. And so the
ostentatious trash, that even Tottenham Court
Road would have been ashamed of, wus carried
piecemeal out into the light of the day ; and in
some instances these simple folk considered it to
be so beautiful that a murmur of admiration ran
round the tent when the things were brought in.
It was altogether a melancholy sight.

B'U'oiir had accompinied Lord Willowby sole-
ly from the fact of his having an idle forenoon
to dispose of -, but he could not quite make out
what his father-in-law's purpose was in coining
here. For one thing, he appeared to be quite
indifferent about the sale itself. He had listened
to one or two of the biddings; and then — saying
that the prices were ritlictilously high — had pro-
posed a further stroll through the rooms. So
they entered the house again, and had another
look at the old masters (dating from the latter
half of the nineteenth century) and at the trump-
ery gilt and satin.

" Ah, well, Balfour," said Lord Willowby, with
a pensive air, " one can almost pity that poor fel-
low, having his house overhauled by strangers in
this way. Fortunately he knows nothing about
it. It must be much worse when you are alive
and know what is going on ; and I fancy — well,
perhaps there is no use speaking of it — but I
suppose I must go tlirough it. What distresses
me most, is the thought of these merry people
who are here to-day going through my daughter's
room, and pulling about her few little treasures
that she did not take with iter when she mar-
ried—"

Tjord Willowby stopped; doubtless overcome
by emotion. But Balfour — with a face that had
flushed at this sudden mention of Lady Sylvia —
turned to him with a stare of surprise.

" What do you mean. Lord Willowby ?"

" Well," said his lordship, with a resigned air,
" I suppose I must come to this too. I don't see
how I can hold on at the Hall any longer ; I am
wearing my life out with anxiety."

" You don't mean to say you mean to sell Wil-
lowby Hall?"

" How can I help it ? And even then I don't
know whether I shall clear the mortgages."

" Come," said Balfour, for there wei-e several
of the auctioneer's men about, " let us go out into
the garden, and have a talk about this business."

lot

GREEN PAtJTURSS AND PICGADILLT.

They went out. It did not occur to Oalfour
why Lord Willowby liud been no anxiout* for him
to come to tliJB m\e; nor did ho contiider how
«l(iUfuily tiiut brief uiluHion to Lndy Svlvin'M room
in lier t>lil lionic Imd bveii broiif^tit in. Uu wum
riiiklly uliuMHul l)y tliis propoHii). Ho Idiuw the
grii'f it wuiiiil otTiiHioii to I;ii4 wife; liu l<ni'w, too,
timt in tlio opinion of ti)t> world thiu public liu-
niiliution would in u nieuHuro reflect on himself.
Ho remonHtnitcd Hcverely witti Lord Willowby
What good could l)e gained by tliiit Htep? If
he could not iitTord to live ut the Hull, wliy not
let it for n term of yeuru, and go up to London
to live, or, if the shooting of rubbitH was a ncces-
Bity, to some timBller place !u tlio country ? And
what sum would relievo hid present needs, iiud
also put him in a fair way of pulling his fiuuuccH
together again ? lie hoped Lord Wiilowliy would
epe"' .._..''ly, uh no good ever cunie of conceal-
ing parts of the truth.

That Lord Willowby did discloBc the wliole
truth it would be rush to ast-irt ; but, at ull events,
his dramatic little t^clieme workcil so well that
before the talk and walk in the grounds of The
Hollow were over, Ualfour'had promised to make
him an iannediare udvujico of £10,0(Hj, not se-
cured by any mortgage wliatcver, but merely to
be acknowledged by note of hand. Lord Wil-
lowby was profoundly grateful. Ue explained,
with some dignity, tliat he was a man of few
words, and did not cure to express all his feel-
ings, but that he would not soon forget this ur-
gently needed help. And as to the urgency of
the help he made one or two references.

" I think I n)ight be able to see my partners
this afternoon," Balfour said, in reply. '"Then
we should only have to step acioss to our solicit-
ors. There need be no delay, if you are really
pressed for the money."

"My dear fellow," said Lord Willowby, "you
don't know what a load you have taken from ray
breast. I would have sold the Mall long ago, but
for Sylvia's sake; I know it would bieak lier
heart. I will n rite out ut once to her to say iiow
kind you have been — "

" I hope you will not do that," Balfour said,
suddenly. "The fact is — well, these business
matters are better kept among men. She would
be disturbed and anxious. Fray don't say any
thing about it."

"As you please," Lord Willowby said. " But
I know when she comes back she won't be sorry
to find the old Hall awaiting her. It will be her
own in the natural course of things — perhaps
sooner than any one expects."

It was strange that a nuin wlio had just been
presented with £10,00U should begin to indulge
in these melancholy reflections; but then Lord
Willowby had obviously been impressed by this
sad sight of the sale ; and it was with almost a
dejected air that he consented — seeing that his
son-in-law would now have no time to get lunch-
eon any where before leaving by the mid-day train
— to go to the vefreshiacnt bar and partake of
such humble cheer as was there provided, it
was not the dead man's sherry they drank, but
that of the refrt'shnieiit contractor Tliey stood
for a few moments there, listening to the eager
comments of one or two [leople who had been
bidding for a box of games (it cost £10, and went
for £23) and a cockatoo; and then Lord Willow-
by had the boraea put to, and himself drov« Bal-

four all the wav to the station. Ho shook hnndi
with him warmly. He begged of him not to bur
ry or bother about this mutter; but still, at the
same time, if tliere wt'" no obstacle in the way, it
was always comforting to have such things settled
quickly, and so forth.

Balf(mr got up to London, and went straight to
the offices of his Arm in the City. Perhaps ha
was not sorry to make the visit just at this jun&
ture ; fur although it would be exaggeration to
say that the hints dropped by Bolitho had dis-
quieted him, they bad nevertheless remained ia
his mind. Before this, too, it bad sometimes oc-
curred to him that he ought to take a greater in-
terest in that vast commercial system which it
had been the pride of liis father's life to build
up. It seemed almost ungrateful that be should
limit his interference to a mere glance at the
Profit and Loss and Capital accounts. Rut then,
on the other hand, it was his own father who had
taught him to place implicit confidenco in thest
carefully chosen partners.

Balfour was shown up stairs to Mr Ski.aicr't
room. That gentleman was sitting alone at hit
desk, with some letters before him. He was t
small, prim, elderly, and precisely dressed per-
son, with gray whiskers, ana a somewhat care-
worn face. When Balftuir entered, he smiled
cheerfully, and nodded toward a chair.

" Ah, how do you uo, Balfour ? What's new
with you ? Any thing going on ut the House V I
wish Parliament would do sometliing for us busi-
ness men."

"You hove plenty of representatives there,
anyhow, Mr Skinner," said Balfour— the "Mr"
was a tradition from his boyish visits to the of-
fice, when the young gentleman used to regard
his father's partners with considerable awe—
"but at present my call is a personal and pri-
vate one. The fact is, I want to oblige a partic-
ular friend of mine — I want you to let me have
£10.000 at once."

"£10,000? Oh yes, I tliink we can manage
that," said Mr Skinner, with a pleasant smile.

The thing was quite ea.«ily and cheerfully set-
tled, and Balfour proceeded to chat about one or
two other matters to this old friend of his, whom
he hud not seen for some time. But he soon
perceived that Mr. Skinner was 'not hearing one
word he said. Moreover, a curious gray look had
come over his face.

" You don't look very well," said this blunt-
spoken young man.

" Oh yes, thank you," said Mr. Skinner, quite
brightly. " I was only tiiinking — since you were
here, anyway — we might have a short talk about
business mattere, if Mr Green agrees. I will see
whether he is in bis room." «

He rose, opened the door, and went out. Bal-
four thought to himself that poor old Skinner
was aging fast; be seemed quite frail on hii
legs.

Mr Skinner was gone for fully ten minutes,
and Balfour was beginning to wonder what could
have occurred, when the two partners entered
together. He shook hands with Mr. Green—*
taller and stouter man, with a sallow fac, and
spoutacles. They all sat down, and, despite him-
self, Balfour began to entertain suspicions tliat
sometlitng was wrong. Why all this nerroui-
neas and solemnity f i

" Balfour," siud Mr. Skinner, " Green and I «N

counts ope
written off
we should
now — I do
possible."

He let til
."TlienI
ly bankrup

He did n

"You mi
peated the

"You ha
wife," said
glad when

" It will i
my father's

And then
he had und

"Good-b;
Baid he. "'
ing me in h
roil did it 1
to be annor

"Nowthi
u well cal
Skinner.

He ihoflk Imndi
f him not to bur-

but Htill, at th«
lulo in tho wny, it
icli thlugg Hcttled

I went Rtralglit to
ity. Perhapa lie
juRt at tliiH jun^
exaggeration to
Uulitbo had dii.
AeM remained io
ad DomctimoR oo<
lalte a greater ia
RyRteni whiuh it
er'a life to build
ul that he should
re glance at the
iunt!t. But then,
n father who had
ntidence in tbeui

to Hr Skt.a)or'i
itiug alone at hii

him. Ho was a
tely dreHScd per

vomewhat care-
itercd, he Bulled
I chair,
rf What's new
ut the House ?
thing for us busl

!8cntatlve8 there,
Ifour-the "Mr"
h visits to the of-
n used to regard
:)»ideral>le awe-
personal and prl
o oblige a partio
>u to let me have

we can manage
|)lea8unt sntiie.
nd L'hecrfully set-
lihat about one ur
lend of his, whum
lu. But he soon

'not hearing one
[>us gray look had

said this blunt-

Ir. Skinner, quite
—since you wore
short talk about

grees. I will see

went out. fial-
poor old Skinner
[uite frail on hit

ully ten minutes,
onder what could
partners entered
ith Mr. Green-
sallow fac., and
and, despite iiim*
n suspicions thtt
all this nervout-

' Green and I «N

ORrEN PASTURES AND I'ICOADILLT.

10»

ifTMd. We must tell yon now how we Mtand ;
and you have to prepare younwlf for a shock.
Wo have kept you in ignoranco all thin time —
wo have kept our own cIcrkH in Ignorance — hop-
ing against hope — fearful of any human being
letting the Hccret go out and ruin us ; and now
—now it is useless any longer — "

It wan no onlinury thing that had so disturbed
this prim old man. His lips were so dry that ho
oould scarcely sponk. He poured out a glass of
water and drank a little. Meanwhile Bulfour,
who merely expected to hear of heavy business
Icsses, was sitting calm and unimpressed.

" Hut first of all, Mr. Oroen, you know," said
he, "don't tliink that I am pressing you for this
£10,000. Of course I would rather have it; but
if it is necessary to you — "

"£10,000!" exclaimed tho wretched old man,
with the frankness and energy of despair; "if
we gn into the Uiuetle, it will be for half a mill-
ion !"

The Oaxetfe / The word wan a blow ; and ho
lat stunned and bewildered, wiiile both partners
were eagerly explaining tho desperate means that
had been taken to a'-oid thN fatal issue, and tho
preliminary causes, stretching back for several
years. He could not undersund. Ii .vus as if
In a dream that he heard of the Inv >8tment8 Ac-
count, of the China Capital Acooupt, of the fall
in property in Shanghai, of speculations in cot-
ton, of bill transactions on the part of the youn-
ger partners, of this frantic effort and that. It
was tho one word Oazflte that kept dinning it-
self into Ids ears. And then he seemed to make
a wild effort to throw off this nightmare.

" But how can it be y" he cried. " How can
these things have been going on? Evfry six
months I have looked over the Profit and Loss
Account — "

The old man came over and took Ids hand in
both of his. There were tears m his eyes.

" Balfour," said he, " your father and I were
old friends while you were only a child; if he
were alive, he would tell you that we acted just-
ly. We dared not let you know. We dared not
let our own clerks know. We had to keep ac-
counts open under fictitious names. If wo had
written off these fearful losses to Proffl and Loss,
we should have been smashed a year ago. And
now — I don't think any further concealment is
possible."

He let the band fall.

. " Then I understand you that we are hopeless-
ly bankrupt f" said Balfour.

He did not answer ; his silence was enough.

" Tou mean that I have not a farthing ?" re-
peated the younger man.

" Tou have the money that was settled on your
wife," said Mr. Skinner, eagerly. "I was very
glad when you applied for that."

" It will be returned to you ; I can not defraud
my father's creditors," said Balfour, coldly.

And then he rose : no one could have told what
he had undergone during that half hour.

"Good-by, Mr. Skinner; good-by, Mr. Green,"
Baid he. " I can scarcely forgive you for keep-
ing me in ignorance of all this, though doubtless
jon did it for the best And when is the crash
to be announced t"

" Now that we have seen yon, I thhik we m^t
as well call in our solidton at once," said Mr.
Skinner.

" I think Ro too," said the other partner; and
then lialfour lift. .

He plimgcd into tho busy, eager world out-
side. The olllce boy was wliiHtling merrily as he
passed, the cabmen bandying Jokes, smart young
clerks hurrying over the latter part of their du-
ties to got liome to their amu.senicnts in tho sub-
urbs. He walked all tlie wiiy down to tlie House,
and (tuitc mechanically took his scat. Ho dined
by himself, witli singular abstemiousnoss, hut
then no one was surprised at that. And then he
walked up to his house in Piccadilly.

And this was the end — tlie end of nil those
fine ambitions that hail floated before his mind
as he left college, ei|uippcd for tlie struggle of
public life with abundant health and strength
and money and courage. Had his courage, tiien,
fled with his wealth, that now he seeme<l alto-
gether stunned by this sudden blow t Or was it
rather that, in other circum.stuiiues, he might have
encountered this cahimily witli t(derable lirmupss,
but tliat now, and at the Fame time^hc found him-
self ruined, forsaken, and alone ?

CHAPTER XL.

A FLAHIi or NKW8.

Wr dragged a lengthening cliiiin. As soon as
wo had left Niagara and its hotels and holiday-
making, and plunged into that iiitermiimble for-
est-lam^ tha; lies between Lakes Huron and Erie,
one could have noticed that tho gravity of our
women-folk was visibly increased. Did they half
expect, then, while they were idling about tlieso
show-places, some Biidden summons which they
could readily answer ? Bell, at least, could have
no such hope; but all the same, us this big and
ornate car was quietly gliding away westward,
in the direction of her future home, she was as
sad as any of them.

What was the matter? It was a beautiful aft-
ernoon. The country through which we were
passing was sufficiently cheerful ; for this forest
was not dark, gloomy, and monotonous like the
Schwarzwald, but, on the contrary, bright, varied
in hue, and broken up by innumerable clearances.
Ercry few minutes the window next us became
the frame of a pleasant llttio picture — the sudden
open space among the trees ; a wooden house set
amidst orchards in which the ruddy apples showed
in the evening light ; a drove of cattle homeward-
going along the rough road ; tall silver-gray stems
of trees that had. been left when the wood was
burned down , and eveiy where, in every avail-
able comer, maize, maize, maize.

"What is the matter?" says the German ex-
lieutenant to his wife, who is gazing somewhat
absently out of the window.

" I know," says Queen T , with a gentle

smile. "She is thinking how she could ever
make her way back through this perpetual forest
if she were all by herself, and with no road to
guide her. Fancy Bell wandering on day and
night — always toward the East — toward her chil-
dren. She might take some food from the coun-
try people, but she would not enter their houses;
she would go on, day after day, night after night,
until she got to the sea. And you want to know
what she is thinking of now ? I believe she is
consumed with hatred of every thhig lying west*

GREEN PASTURES AND VICCADILLY.

ward of the river Hole, and that i>ho cunsidci)*
tlie PuUniun car a detestable invention. That i»
the pretty rea>:!t of Colonel SIbane'a ingenuity !"

It certainly was not fair to tu'.k in this alight-
ing fashion of poor old Five-Ac^: Jack, who was
but recently dead, and who had done what he
considered his best with such worldly posses-
sions as Providence had allowed him to thieve
and amass. liut at this moment the lieuti >iant
struck in.

" Oh, that is quite foolish I" he cried. " There
is no longer any such thing as distance; it is
only time. It is foolish to thii:'- of t'-e distance
between the Rocky Mountains and Surrey ; it is
only how many days ; and you may as well be
living in a pleasant car, and having good food
and very capital beds, as in a hotel, wiiile all the
time you arc travelling. And indeed," continued
this young man, seriously addressing his wife,
" there is < ery litll" difference of time either now.
You want to speak to your children ? You spcuk
to them through the telegraph. It is an hour or
two — it is nothing. In the morning you send
them a message ; you say, ' How do you do?' In
tlie evening, as you sit down to dinner, you have
the answei'. VVhat is that separation? It is
nothing."

•' I think," says Bell, with savage ferocity, but
with tears springing to her eyes, " I will spend
the whole of tiie rirst year'.s income of this
wretched pioperty in telegrams t;. the children.
One might just as well be dead as living with
out them."

And if she was to derive any comfort from this
reflection that the telegraph was a constant link of
communication between herself and those young
folks left behind 'n Surrey, she was not likely tu
be allowed to forgi'. the fact for any length of
time. Even out in this forest wilderness the most
prominent feature of the smallest humlet we
passed was its telegraph posts and wires. Very
plain, unpretending, picturesque hamlets these
were, even iu the ruddy glow now sliiiiii-;; over
the land. They consisted of a number of wood-
en shanties all set down in rectangular rows, the
thoroughfares being exceedingly broad and bare,
the whole place having an oddly improvised and
temporary look, as if the houses and 'shops could
in a few minuu's be put on wheels and carried
along to the next clearance in the forest. But
what could even the smallest of these herc-to-
dayand-gone-to-morrow-looking places want with
such a multiplicity of telegraph wires f

That night the three women, having been bun-
dled into tlie prettily decorated state-room that
had been secured for them, and being now doubt-
less fast r.sleep, saw nothing of a strange thing
that occurred tu us. Had Von Rosen gone mad,
or bad the phrase " state-room" confused his fan-
cies, that, looking out of the car window, he sud-
denly declared we were at sea? Rubbing his
eyes — perhaps ho had been dozing a bit — he in-
sisted on it. Then he must needs hurry out to
the little iron gangway at the end of the car to
see if his senses were forsaking him.

Here, certainly, a strange sight was visible. We
were no doubt standing on a railroad car ; but all
around us there was nothing but black and lap-
ping water through which we were rapidly mor-
ing, propelled by some unknc.n power. And
the blackness of this mysterious lake or se& was
iateokified by the flashing down on Uie wares of

one or two distant lights that seemed to be high
above any possible land. Then, as our eyes be-
came accustomed to the darkness, lo! another
phenomenon — a great black mass, like a portion
of a city, moving after us through the night. We
began to make it out at lust. . The bewildering
lights ahead were two lofty beacons. We were
oiossing a lake, or a bit of a lake. The long train
had been severed into lengths, and each portion
of the huge serpent placed on a gigantic steam
ferry-boat, which was taking us across the black
waters. And when this night passage ceased
we suurccly knew whether we were on sea or on
shore, whether on a boat or a line of rail. But
people began to talk about Detroit ; and here iin-
doubtcdly was a railway station, to say nothing of
a rcfieshment bar.

" I believe we have got into the States again,"
observed the lieutenant, thereby showing a know],
edge of geography which was not surprising in a
German.

Next morning our little party had most ob-
viously improved in spirits, rerhaps there was
some secret hope among the women folk that
they would have further iiew.s from England
when they arrived at Chicago, though what good
could come of that it was hard to say. Or pur-
haps they were delighted to find that they had
suffered no discomfort at all in passing a niglit
on board a railway train. They praised every
thing — the cleanness and comfort of the beds,
the handiness of the lavatories, the civihty of
the attendants. There was no fatigue at all vis-
ible ill their fresh and bright faces. And when
they sat down to breakfast, it was quite clear
that they meant to make it a comic breakfast,
whereas breakfast in an American railway car
is a serious business, to be conducted with cir-
cumspection and with due regard for contingen-
cies. For one thing, the hospitable board is not
spacious ; and with even the most smoothly go-
ing of cars there arc occasional swayiiigs which
threaten peril to coffee-cups. But liie chief oc-
casion for fear arises from the fact that your
travelling American is a curious person, and in-
sists on experimenting upon every possible form
of food that the districts through wliicli he 13
passing praluce. Moreover, he has a sumptuous
eye, and likes to have all these things spread out
before him at once. No matter how simple the
central dish may be — a bit of a prairie-chicken,
for example, or a slice of pork— 4ie must have it,
perhaps merely for the delight of color, graced
by a semicircle of dishes containing varied and
variously prepared vegetables. Now we never
could get the most intelligent of negroes to un-
derstand that we were only plain country-folk,
unaccustomed to such gorgeous displays and va-
rieties of things, and not at all desirous of eating
at one and the same time boiled beans, beet root
in vinegar, green corn, squash, and sweet-pota-
toes. Sambo would insist on our having all these
things, and more, and could not be got to believe
that we could get through breakfast without an
assortment of boiled trout, pork and apple-sauce,
and prairie-chicken. The consequence was that
this overloaded small table not unfrequently r&
minded one or two of us of certain experiences
in Northern climes, when the most frugal ban-
quet — down in that twilit saloon — was attended
by the most awful anxiety.

" She pitches a good deal," said Bell, raising

leemed to bo high
n, as our eyes be-
ness, lol auotlier
iss, like a portion
;h tlie night. VVe
. The bewildering
aeons. We were
c. The long train
and each portion
a gigantic steam
I across the blueli
; passage ceased,
ivere on sea or on
line of rail. But
'oit ; and here un-
, to say nothing of

the States again,"
showing a l<no\vl.
ot surprising in a

rty had most ob-
'erhaps there was
women folk tliat
i's from England
lliough what good

I to say. Or pur-
Ind that they had
n passing a night
ley praised every
fort of the beds,
es, the civility of

fatigue at all vis-
'aces. And wlieu
t was quite clear
comic breakfast,
ricaii railway car
nducted with cir-
rd for contingen-
table board is not
iiost smoothly go-
il swayings wliiuii
But the cliief oc-
ic fact that your
IS person, and in-
ery possible form
mgli whicii he is
has a sumptuoua
tilings spread out
r how simple the

II prairie-chicken,
-he must have it,
t of color, graced
lining varied and

Now we never
[>f negroes to un-
aiu country-folk,

displays and va-
lesirous of eating
i beans, beet root
, and sweet-pota-
r having all these

be got to believe
kfast without an

and apple-sauce,
equence wa? that

unfrequently r&
rtain experiences
most frugal ban-
lU — was attended

said Bell, raising

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

Ill

her cup so as to steady it the better ; ' Jie sea
Duat be getting rougher."

"Madame Columbus," asked the lieutenant,
"when shall we come in sight of land? The
provisions will bo running short soon. I have
never seen people eat as these people cat : it is
the fine air, is it not V"

" Mr. Von Rosen," said Lady Sylvia, " do you
know that you can liave Milwaukee lager-beer
on board this ship V"

"Do I know ?" said the young man, modestly.
"Oh yes, I knc"' I had some this morning at
leven o'clock." And then he turned to his shock-
ed wife : " I wa.s very thirsty, and I do not like
that water of melted ice."

He would have explained further, but that his
wife intimates that such excuses are unneces-
sary. She has got used to this kind of thing.
Happily her children are now beyond the sphere
of iiis evil example.

'Ah," said he, "this is nil very poor and
wretched as yet — this crossing of the American
continent. I am a prophet. I can sec the things
that will cohie. Why have we not here the sa-
loon that we have across the Atlantic — with a
piano? I would sing you a song. Lady Sylvia."

"Indeed," said that lady, very sweetly, '-you
ire very kind."

" But it i.s ft long time ago since we used to
have songs in our travelling. I ran remember
when we had to try a new piano every day —
some of them very queer; but always, in any
case, we had the guitar, and ' Woodstock Town'
and ' The Flowers of the Forest'—"

"And ' Priiiz Engen, dcr edle Riiter,' " says Bell,
ill a suddenly deep and tragical voice, " ' woflC dem
Kaiser wtcdrum krrrrrrrriegen Stadt und Festtmg
Belga-nm'i'-ad .'' "

" Ah, Bell," says Queen T , " do you remem-
ber that morning at Bourton-on-thc-liill ?"

Did she remember that morning at Bourton-
on-the-Hill ! Did she remember that uunch of
fiddle-sticks ! No doubt they were very pleased
to get away from the small inn where they had

,d ham and eggs and whiskey for supper, and
ham and eggs and tea for breakfast ; but here,
in this bountiful and beneficent land, flowing over
with broiled blue-fish, Carolina widgeon, marrow
squash, and Lima beans, what was the use of
th! iking about Boiirton-on-the-Hill and its be-
longings ? I do not believe we were charged
more than a shilling per head for our lodging in
that Worcestershire hostelry ; here we were in a
country where we could pay, if we chose, a cou-
ple of shillings extra for having a bottle of wine
iced. And, if it came to that, what fresher morn-
ing could we have had any where than this that
now shone all around us? We dragged these
nostalgic persons out on to the pleasant little
iron balcony at the end of the car. There had
been a good deal of rain for some time before,
so there was little dust. And what could be
brighter and pleasanter than these fair blue skies.
»nd the green woods, and the sweet, cool wind,
that blew about and tempered the heat of the
sun ? We seemed to be rolling onward through
t perpetual forest, along a pathway of flowers.
Slowly as the train went, we could not quite
make out these tall blossoms by the side of the
track, except to guess that the yellow blooms
were some sort of marigold or sunflower, and the
purple ones probably a valerian, while the rich

tones of brownish-red that occurred among the
green were doubtless those of some kind of ru-
mex. And all through tliis forest country were
visible the symptoms of a busy and shifty indus-
try. Clearing followed clearing, wills its ip.tios-
ures of split rails to keop the cattle from wan-
dering; with its stock of felled timber close to
the house ; and with, every where, the golden
yellow pumpkins gloauiing in the sunlight be-
tween the rows of the gray-green maize.

" What a lonely life these people must lead,"
said Lady Sylvia, as we stood there.

" Yes, indeed," responded her monitress.
"They are pretty nearly as far rtmovcd from
telegraphs and newspapers and neighbors as
we are in Surrey. But no doubt tlioy arc con-
tent — as we might be, if we had any sense. But
if the newspaper is ten minutes late, or the tire
not quite bright in the breakfast-room — "

" Or the temper of the mistress of the house,"
says another voice, " of such a demoniacal com-
plexion that the very mice are afraid of her — "

" — Then, no doubt, we think we are tlie most
injured beings on earth. Oh, by-the-way, La'dy
Svlvia, how did vour dado of Indian matting
look ?"

This was a sudden change; and, strangely
enough. Lady Sylvia secniod rather embarrassed
as she nnsn cred,

" I think it turned out very well," said she,
meekly.

"I suppose some of your guests were rather
surprised," is the next remark.

"Perhajis so," answers the young wife, eva-
sively. "You know we never have given many
dinner parties in Piecadilly. I — I think it is so
much better for my husband to get into the coun-
try whenever he can get away from the House."

" Oh yes, no doubt," says Queen T , with

much simplicity "No doubt. But you know
you are very singular in your tastea, Lady Syl-
via. I don't know many women who would
spend the season in Surrey if they had the
chance of spending it in Piccadilly. And what
did you say those flowers were ?"

Our attention was soon to be called awny from
the flowers. The forest bec.ime scantier and
scantier — finally it disappeared altogether. In
its place we found a succession of low and
smooth sand hills, of a brilliant yellcwish-brown
in this warm sunlight, and dotted here and there
with a few scrubby bushes. Tliis wis rather an
odd thing to find in the midst of a forest, and
we were regarding these low-lying mounds with
some interest when, suddenly, they dipped. And
lo! in the dip a dark blue line, and that the line
of the horizon. The sea ! — we cried. Who can
imagine the surprise and delight of finding ttiis
vast plain of water before the eyes, after the
perpetual succession of tree-stems that had con-
fronted us since the previous morning? And
surely this blue plain was indeed the sea ; for
far aw.ty we could pick out large schooners ap-
parently hovering in the white light, and nearer
at hand were smart little yachts, with the sun-
light on their sails.

"Madame Columbus," cried the lieutenant,
" have we crossed the continent already ? Is it
the Pacific out there ?"

" Why, you know," says the great geographer,
with a curtness unworthy of her historic name
und fame, " it is Lake Michigan. It is a mere

1^ I

J;;

112

GREEN PASTURTS AND PICCADILLY.

pond. It is only about as long as from London
to CarUflle ; and about as broad as — let me see
— as Scotland, from the Clyde to the Forth."

It was a beautiful sight, however insignificant
the size of the lake may have been. Nothing
could have b<)en more intensely blue than the
far horizon line, just over those smooth and sun-
lit sand hills. No doubt, had we been on a
greater heiglit we should have caught the pecul-
iar green color of the water. Any one who has
unexpectedly come in view of the sea in driving
over a high-lying country — say in crossing the
Iiigli moors between Launceston and Boscastle
— must have i)een startled by the lieight of the
suddenly revealed horizon-line. It seems to jump
up to meet him like the pavement in the story of
the bemuddled person. But down here on this
low level we had necessarily a low horizon-line;
and what we lost in intrinsic color we gained in
that <leep reelected blue that was all the stron-
ger by reason of the yellow glow of the sand
hills.

IVe got into Michigan City. We were offered
newspapers. We refused these — for should we
not have plenty of time in Chicago to read not
only the newspapers, from which we expected
nothing, but also our letters from England, from
which we expected every thing? As it turned
out, there was nothing at all of importance in
our letters; whereas, if we had taken tl'ese
newspapers, we could not fail to have noticeu
the brief telegraphic aimouncement — wliich had
been sent all over the commercial world — of the
suspension of the well-known firm of Balfour,
Skuiiier, Green, ajid Co., liabilities £500,00!). In
happy igiiorance we travelled on.

It was about mid-day, after skirting the south-
ern shores of Lake Michigan through a curiously
swampy country, that we entered Chicago, and
drove to the very biggest of its big hotels.

CHAPTER XLL

CHICAGO.

We knew nothing of this dire announcement,
though it was in every one of the newspapers
published in Chicago that day. We were full
of curiosity about tliis wonderful city that liad
sprung up like Jonah's gourd ; and as we drove
through its busy thoroughfares — the huge blocks
of buildings looking like the best parts of Glas-
gow indefinitely extended — and as we saw the
smoky sky over our head streaked in every di-
reciion with a black, rectangular spider's web
of telegraphic wires — and as we caught glimpses
at the end of the long thoroughfares of the tall
masts of sh'ts — we knew that we had indeed
reached the ^reat commercial capital of the far
West. An indeed, we very speedily found that
the genius )f this big, eager, ostentatious place
was too strong for us. We began to revel in the
Bumptuousness of the vast and garishly furnish-
ed hotels; we wanted more gilding, more mar-
ble, more gaudy colc.ing of acanthus leaves. A
wild desire possessed us to purchase on specu-
lation all the empty lots available; we would
cover every frontage foot with gold, and laugh at
all the assf Jsments that were ever levied. Look
at this spacious park on the south side of the
town ; shall we not have a mansion here more

gorgeous than the mind of roan can conceive,
with hoi-ses to shoot along these wide drives likr
a flash of lightning? We began to enteiiaiu a
sort of contempt for the people living on the
north side of the town. It was hinted to us tlmt
they gave themselves aire. They read books and
talked criticism. They held aloof from ordiiiiuy
society, looked on a prominent civic official us
a mere shyster, and would have nothing to do
with a system of local government controlled by
30,000 bummers, loafers, and dead-beats. Now
we condemned this false pride. We gloried in
our commercial enteiprise. We wanted to aa-
tound the world. Culture? This was what we
thought about culture : " It is with a still more
sincere regret that the friends of a manly, vigor-
ous, self-supporting and self-dependent people,
fitted for the exercise of political liberty, see
that the branches of culture called blacksmith-
ing, corn-growing, carpentering, millinery, bread-
making, etc., are not included in the cour.se of
studies prescribed for tlie Chicago public schools.
Society is vastly more concerned in the induc-
tion of its youthful members into these branches
of culture than it is in teaching them to bawl
harmoniously and beat the hewgag melodiously."
Yes, indeed. Confound their liewgngs, and all
other relics of an effete civilization ! And again :
"This city, and every other American city, is
crowded with young persons of both sexes that
hive Ijeen 'cultured' by a vicious and false pub-
lic-school system in music, drawing, and other
fanciful and fashionable but practicully useless
arts, but that are actually incapable, by reason
of their gross ignorance, of earning an honest
living. They have acquired, under some well-
paid 'professor' (who has bamboozled himself

into the erroneous belief that he and his profcs- ud get all

sion are necessary to the existence of socieiy),
some smattering of 'musical culture,' pencil
sketching, etc., but ot the practical aits and sci-
ences of living and getting a living they are more
profoundly ignorant than South-African Hotten-
tots." What would our friends on the north
side say to that ?

" Bell," said the lieutenant, as we were driving
through this spacious southern park, in the clear
light of the afternoon, " I suppose that we shall
be allowed to come up here occasionally from
the ranch — what do you say ? — for a frolic, and
for to spend a little money? I would like to
have one of these little traps — it is like the ghost
of a trap — he I look at that fellow now !"

We looked at him as well as we could ; but he
had flashed by before we could quite make out
what he was sitting on. In fact, there was noth-
ing visible of the vehicle but two large and phan^
tom wheels, and a shaft like a prolonged spider's
leg; while the driver, with his hands stretched
forward and his feet shot out before him, and

innocently
forced."
It was
(hat led ui
ore of He£
f 8 were r
tics; and
to be seei
ipend mu(
evening Qi
daily joum
divorce. !
"There,
Bell more
from the r
free woma
davits sufl!i
cessful.' J
stated is t
Ihat whene
berc is the
trying to m
"Anda{
humble v
Whither
lot now b
luddenly gi
tarelessly fl
tolumn, an(
he suspeRs
id no word
Indeed, t!
this gen
lands. In
up the n
wearinesi
"Oh, deal

Hii

onie and c
ddressing I
But all tl
the time
"See!" 8
rembling si
! ruined — h
»n of debt!
W Must]
Certainly

need to c
"Oh, I ki

ig to her e
ill start foi
will go baci
D back wit:
f yourself.
im at onc(
er wet eyes

1 were some
f our lives.

"Come, o

therefore almost bent double, was, according to trance. " ^
nil appearance, clinging on as if for dear life to Qjetly or \

the horse's tail.

" It would be very fine to go whizzing through

the air like that, and very good exercise for the irely."

arms, too — "

" But where should I be ?" asked his wife, with
some indignation. Certainly a vehicle that seem-

ed to have no inside at all — that appeared to be rf'g nAnA

the mere simulacrum of a vehicle — could not reij
well contain two.

" Where would you be ?" said the lieutenant, i married li

Dsition, and
"How, th«

"You are
f you consi
good deal (

be glad to
lat people

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

iisr

in can conoiivo,
wide di'ives likr
in to eiitei'i.iiij a
le living uii llm
liinted to us that
J read books iirni
of irom oi-iliiiiii'y
civic ofiifiiil iis
c nothiii}; to do
ent controlled by
ead-beats. Now
We gloried in
e wanted to as-
his was wlmt we
with a still more
f a manly, vigor-
?pendeiit people,
tical liberty, see
illed blacksinith-
niillinery, bread-
in the course of
;o public schools,
ed in the indue-
to these branches
ng them to bawl
^ag melodiously."
liewgnga, and all
ion ! And again :
Aniericaiv city, is
t l)oth sexes tliat
us and false p«b'
awing, and other
iracticuUy useless
apable, by reason
arning an honest
under some wcll-
[nboozled himself
le and his profcs-
tcnce of socieiy),
culture,' pencil
tical arts and sci
ing they are more
African Hottcn.
ids on the north

we were driving
park, in the clear
lose that we shall
occasionally from
for a f roiic, and
I would like to
•it is like the ghost
low now !"

innocently. " It is Chicago. Tou would be di-
forced."

It was this recalling of the divorce business
that led us to see the announcement of the fail-
ore of Messrs. Balfour and Co. To tell the truth,
we were not much interested in American poli-
tics ; and while there were plenty of new things
to be seen every where around us, we did not
ipend much time over the papers. But on this

evening Queen T had got hold of one of the

daily journals to look at the advertisements about
divorce. She read one or two aloud to us.

"There, you see," she remarked, addressing
Bell more particularly, "you can run up here
from the ranch any time you like, and become a
tree woman. 'Residence not material.' 'Affi-
davits sufficient proof.' 'No charge unless suc-
cessful.' And the only ground that needs to be
stated is the safe one of incompatibility. So
lliat whenever husband and wife have a quarrel,
lere is the remedy. It is far more swift than
trying to make up the quarrel again."

"And a good deal more pleasant too," remarks
I humble voice.

Whither this idle talk might have led us need
lot now be guessed. The little woman's face
luddenly grew ghastly pale. Her eye had been
arclessly wandering away from that advertising
wiumn, and had lit on the telegram announcing
Ihc suspension of Balfour's firm. But she utter-
id no word and made no sign.

Indeed, there is a great courage and firmness
D this gentle creature when the occasion de-
nands. In the coolest possible manner she fold-
d up the newspaper. Then she rose with a look
f weariness.

"Oh, dear me," said she, " I suppose I must go
ud get all these things out. I wish you would
oine and open my big box for me," she adds,
iddressing her humble slave and attendant.

But all that affectation of calmness had gone

T the time she had reached her own room.

" See !" she said, opening the paper with her
rembling small white fingers. " See ! Balfour

ruined — he has lost all his money — half a mill-
m of debts — oh, what shall I do, what shall I
b? Must I tell her ? Shall I tell her at once ?"

Certainly the news was startling:, but there was
» need to cry.over it.

" Oh, I know," she said, with the tears start-

ig to her eyes ; " if I were to tell her now, she

t, there was noth.
10 large and phan-
prolonged spider's
hands stretched
before him, and

rill start for England to-morrow rooming. And

ivill go back with her," she adds, wildly — " I will
we could ; but hfl j back with her. You can go on to Colorado
d quite make out y yourself. Oh, the poor child ! she will fly to

im at once — " And still she stares through

er wet eyes at this brief announcement, as if

were some talisman to change the whole course

f our lives.

" Come, come, come," is the patient remon-
was, accoi-ding to trance. " You have got to consider this thing
if for dear Ufe to uietly, or you may blunder into an awkward

Dsition, and drag her with yon."
whizzing through "How, then?" she says. "It must be true,
il exercise for thejBrely."

"You are taking heaps of things for granted,
iked his wife, with t yon consider that absence and distance and
vehicle that seem- ^^A deal of covert lecturing have told on the
at appeared to b« iri'g mind — if you think that she would now real-
le — could not ver^be glad to go bacli to him, with the knowledge

lat people have got to put np with a good deal
ltd the Ueutenant,^ married life, and with the intention of making

the best of it — that is all very well ; that is first-
rate. You have effected a better cure than I ex<
pected — "

" Don't you see it yourself?" she says, eagerly.
" Don't you see how proudly she talks of ' my
husband' now ? Don't you see that every moment
she is thinking of England ? 1 know."

"Very well; very good. But, then, something
depends on Balfour. You can't tell what his
wishes or intentions may be. If he had wanted
her to know, ho would have telegraphed to her,
or caused her father to telegraph to her. On the
other hand, if you take this piece of news to her,
she will appeal to you. If she should wish to go
back to England at once, you will have to consent.
Then you can not let her go back alone — "

" And I will not !" says this brave little woman,
in a fury of unselfishness.

" Well, the fact is, as it appears to an unemo-
tional person, there might be, you see, some lit-
tle awkwardness, supposing Balfour was not quite
prepared — "

" A man in trouble, and not prepared to receive
the sympathy of his wife !" she exclaims.

"Oh, but you must not suppose that Balfour
is living in a garret on dry crusts — the second
act of an Adelphi drama, and that kind of thing !
People who fail for half a million are generally
pretty well off afterward — "

" I believe Mr. Balfour will give up every pen-
ny he possesses to his creditorsi" she snys, vehe-
mently ; for her belief in the virtue of the men
of whom she makes friends is of the most un-
compromising sort.

" No doubt it is a serious blow to an ambitious
man like him ; and then he has no profession to
which he can ttirn to retrieve himself. But all
that is beside the question. What you have got
to consider is your guardianship of Lady Sylvia.
Now if yon were to sit down and write a fully ex-
planatory letter to Mr. Balfour, telling him you
had seen this announi ement, giving your reasons
for believing that Lady Sylvia would at once go
to him if she knew, and asking him to telegraph
a ' yes' or ' no ;' by that time, don't you see, we
should be getting toward the end of our journey,
and could ours^e'vcs take Lady Sylvia back. A
week or two is not of much consequence. On
the other hand, if yi,u precipitate matters, and
allow the girl to go rushing back at once, you
may prevent the very reconciliation you desire.
That is only a suggestion. It is none of my busi-
ness. Do as you think best ; but you should re-
member that the chances are a hundred to one
that Lady Sylvia sees or heai-s something of this
telegram within the next day or two."

A curious happy light had stolen over this
woman's face, and the soft dark eyes were as
proud as if she were thinking of a fortune sud-
denly inherited instead of one irretrievablv lost.

" I think," said sb**. ^bwlv— " I think I could
write a letter that wo aid maKe Mr. Balfour a hap-
py man, suppp^ing he has lost every penny he has
in the world;",'

Any one could see that the small head was
full of busy ideas as she mechanically got out her
writing materials and placed them on the table.
Then she sat down. It was a long letter, and
the contents of it were never known to any hu-
man being except the writer of it and the pcrsoa
to whom it was sent. When she had finished it,
she rose with a sigh of satisfaction.

114

GREEN PASTURP3 AND PICCADILLY.

" Perhaps," said she, with a reflective r.ir —
"perhaps I should have expressed some I'egrct
over this inist'oi'tunc."

"No doubt you spoke of it as a very lucky
thing."

" I can't say," she admitted, frankly, " that I
am profoundly sorry."

Indeed, she was not at all soiry ; and from that
moaioiit sho began to take quite a new view of
Chiciifto. T iiove could be no doubt that this per-
son of High-Climch proclivities, who liked to
surrender her mind to all manner of mysterious-
ly exalted moods, had from the very first regard-
ed this huge dollar-getting hive with a certain
gentle and unexpres.scd scoin. What was that
she had been hinting about a person i^eing able
to carry about with him a sort of moral atmos-
phere to keep him free from outside influence,
and that the mere recollection of the verse of a
song would sometimes suffice? Lady Sylvia and
she had been talking of some of Gounod's music.
Were we to conclude, then, that as she wandered
through this mighty city, with its tramways and
harbors and telegraphs and elevators, that she
exorcised the demon of money-getting by hum-
ming to herself, " Ring on, sweet angelua !" As
she passed through the Babel of price-qnoters in
the central hall of the hotel, it was no echo of
their talk that got into her brain, but quito a dif-
ferent echo :

"fiarkt 'tis the nhgehm, sweetly ringing
O'er hill ami vale;
Hark! how the melody inuldens are singing

Floats on the giile I

« « «« • * •

"Ring on, sweet nngeliis, though thou art shaking
My sonl to teuiu !
Voices long Hilunt now with thee are waking
From out the yeai-s—
From out the years 1"

That may have been so; but anyhow, on the
morning after she had dispatched her letter to
Balfour, she entered into the business of sight-
seeing with quite a new spirit. She declared
that Chicago, for a great city, must be a delight-
ful place to live in. Away from the neighbor-
hood of the manufactories the air was singularly
pure and clear. Then there were continual cool
winds coming in from the lake to temper the
summer heat. Had any body ever seen grass
more green than that in the vast projected park
on the southern side, which would in time be-
come one of the most noble parks in the world ?
She considered that the park on the northern
side was beautifully laid out, and that the
glimpses of Lake Michigan which one got
through the trees were delightful. She greatly
admired the combination of red sandstone and
slightly yellowed marble which formed the fronts
of the charming villas in those pretty gardens;
and as for drives — well, she thought the chief
part of the populati m of Chicago must live on
wheels. It was so rare to find this august lady
in so generous and enthusiastic s mood that we
all began to admire Chicago; and quite envied
our relative the ranch-woman in that she would
be able to forsake her savage wilderness from
time to time for this centre of the arts and civil>
ization.

We reveled in all the luxuries of a great ci^,
while as yet these were possible to us. We
went to theatres, concerts, picture exhibitions.
We drove out to the park in the afternoon to

hear the band play. We purchased knickknack w"""' ^^

for friends at home — Just as if we had been ''^^'' "'"'

party of tourists. I' may be 1

"Come," said our German ex -lieutenant o •** ""* ^*

the tiiial day of our stay there, " this is our la: ^''^ Nor

great town, is it not ? before we go away to th ^^™t ""^

swamps, and the prairies, and to the bo\vi( "> ^^^ olnn

knives. Shall we not dress for dinner? An lee one pec

I propose that the dinner is at eight. And w

will drink a glass of wine to the prosperity o ^^ home o

this fine town." ifessed of

The women would not hear of this proposa '}'f^ "^re

in its entirety ; for as we had to start by trai ^'"*''» "ow

about eleven at night, they did not relish the n( ^^ Atlanti

tion of pulling out all their finery and putting "v ^^, ™

back again in a hurry. But we dined at eij^li n Americai

all the same; and we did not fail to drink a s'as ''.'"8 compi

of wine to the prosperity of that Hue town. Lon "'"^ter Ab

before midnight wc were all fast asleep in ami P"^ Shaksf

berths, the train whirling us on through the dail usappomtm

neas toward the country of the Mississippi,

CHAPTER XLII.

LIFE ON WHEELS.

We rub our eyes. Have we wandered into
Brazilian swamp, then, during the long dar
night? The yellow liglit of the early mornin
is shining down on those dusky pools of sluj ' , -
gish water, on the dense forest, on the matte '>''ons
underwood, and tlie rank green grass. How tlw™°&

ind one fai

oming int<

his was ti

D this slee]

But by-ai

ad been s

ou may be

hroughout

ret glimpse

rairie just

9 stirred th<

eeling. Ai

abo

Th«

railway track does not sink into this vast mei f*™ "''* **
passes our comprehension ; there seems scarce! ''6 contrary
sufficient mud on these scattered islands to suj ' f"® sunsli
port the partly submerged trees. But, as w tf'ous feeli
are looking out, a new object suddenly confioni ccustomed
the eyes. Instead of that succession of sti ?^ absence
creeks we come on a broad expanse of coffei p and wou
colored water that broadens out us it rolls souti '"^" "^'^^
ward; and we cry, "The Mississippi I" An '*'"'y ^^^^
over there, on the other side, we see a big an J"* ^^^ "^i
strangling town picturesquely built along tb '^ most bo
bluffs, and all shining in the early sunlight. Bi [? r~ m*^"^
the Mississippi detains us not, nor Burlington e 'Jphaelmas
ther. Our mission is westward, and forever wes J*". °* *he i
ward— -through the perpetual forest, with its r ',*m rose at
current clearances and farms and fields of mail "** various
Surely it is a pleasant enough manner of passit *''® the pa
this idle, beautiful day. The recent rains liai ""J still v
laid the dust; we sit outside the car and lazi '^^ked by c
watch the rich colors of the underwood as i l*^"^> ^^^'^
pass. Could any thing be deeper in hue thi j'"*^ that ag
the lake-red of those sumac bushes? Looki 'swathes o
that maple — its own foliage is a mass of pal '^^"t '""J .v<
transparent gold ; but up the stem and out tl '* blue sky ^
branches runs a creeper, and the creeper is of ^J" to "s cc
pure vermilion that burns in the sun. Wes »8'y recedir
ward — and forever westward. We lose c« ■''»'» 'ike tl
sciousness of time. We resign ourselves to tl "''"'* > 't wt
slow passing-by of the trees, and the farms, ai fc "PPealec
the maize. It is Uke a continuous dream. '"'^¥' ''^'*•''
And was this, we asked ourselves — was thi " *" oceai
after all, America ? In the by-gone days, bcfo *"? °' "•*'
we ever thought of putting foot on this vast co ' obvious tl
tinent, wo had our imaginary pictures of it ; a) ■*' >t must
surely these were bigger and nobler things thi *' *oo m
this trivial recurrence of maize, maise, mti ^-
— an occasional house— endless trees and bui " ^ had fo
es, and bushes and trees ? Who does not i f'* oommer
member thote famous words that thrilled ti ■><> oertalnl;

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

tions when thej were spoken f "I have an-
;her and a far brighter vision before my gaze.
I may be but a Tision, but I will cherish it. I

one vast confederation stretching from the

•ten North in unbrokon line to the glowing

lUth, and from the wild billows of the Atlantic

the calmer waters of the Pacific main — and I

e one people, and one language, and one law,

d one faith, and, over all that wide continent,

18 home of freedom, and a refuge for the op-

ressed of every race and of every clime." But

here were the condor's wings to give us this

lision, now that we were about midwny between

16 Atlantic and the Rocky Mountains? Wa

ly saw maize. And then we tried to imagine

American's mental picture of England — some-

ing composed of Stratford-on-Avon, and West-

linster Abbey, and Rydal Mount, and Milton,

,d Shakspeare, and Cromwell — and his bitter

isappointment on sailing up the Mersey and

ming into view of the squalor of Liverpool.

his was the nonsense that got into our hoads

m this sleepy and sunny day.

But by-aud-by the horizon widened, for we

lad been slowly ascending all this time; and

fou may be sure there was a little excitement

roughout our party when we began to get our

irst glimpses of the prairie-land. Not the open

irairie just yet ; but still such suggestions of it

stirred the mind with a strange and mysterious

[eeling. And, of course, all our preconceived

tions about the prairies were found to be

ng. They were not at all like the sea. They
ere not at all melancholy and oppressive. On
le contrary, they were quite cheerful and bright

the sunshine ; though there was still that mys-
irious feeling about tHem, and though the un-

'suddeniv conf fonlp'^"^^™^'^ ^J'® *'°"''^ ""' 6®* ^"'*® reconciled to
succession of sti ^^ absence from the horizon of some line of
exnanse of coffe '"> ^'^^ would keep searching for some streak of
utu9itroll8soull»e-__ Surely there )v.« nothing liere of the

ised knickknaci
if we had been

ex -lieutenant (
, " this is our la:
e go away to
d to the bowii
or dinner? Am
,t eight. And wl
the prosperity

of this proposi

to start by
not relish the m
ery and putting
we dined at v\'^\
\\\ to drink a K'ai
It tine town. Loni
list asleep in anuj
I through the dar
I Mississippi.

.II.

;el3.

le wandered into
ig the long dat
the early morniii|
sky pools of slu{
•est, on the matti
m grass. How tli
into this vast mei
lere seems scarce!
red islands to su{
trees. But, as m

ississioDi 1" Aiii'*'"'y wastes we had imagined ? First of all,

V see a bie ai "'^ ^^^ "^> '**^ * ''*''* wilderness of flowers, of

^ built alone tl ''* ™°^' bountiful verdure and variegated col-

"irlv sunlieht Bi ™ — masses of yellow sunflowers, and lilac

' nw Burlington « 'ichaelmas daisies, and what not, with the blood

i and forever wes ^^ <>' *•»« »"""*' coming in. Further off, the

forest with its t '*''* ™^® ^^^ ^®^' '" KS'**'^ undulations covered

and fields of maij *'»» variously tinted grass; and here and there

manner of passii '"^ ^■^^ palisades of a few ranches. Further

recent rains ha "'^y fl^ '^ere wider and barer undulations

the car and lazi '"Ited by one or two clustero of the minutest

underwood as t peoks which we took to be cattle Then be-

ieeoer in hue thi «"<i *h»* "g^^"* ^^^ open prairie-land— long, lev-

bushes? Look # *''**''®* °^ *^® ^^''^ '*'"**8t russet, and gray-

^en, and yellow-gray, going out — out — out until

e blue sky of the horizon seemed quite close and

lar to us compared with that ever and mysteri-

isly receding plain. This vast distance was not

|i7{ul, like the sea. It was beautiful in its pale

gn ourselves to t*'"™ ' '* T"^ *"" °* .*" ""f^^^ interest-for the
lud the farms, ai fe appealed to the imagination to aid it in its
mous dream ndless search ; and if it was an ocean at all, it

urselves — was th

is a mass of pi
B stem and out
the creeper is of
a the sun. Wi
rd. We lose

as an ocean that broke at our feet in a brilliant

J-Kone"day8,"bcfo »"?!>* Ao^e™- This similitude was indeed,

tot on this vast co ' obvious that we unanimously were of opinion

nictures of it • a "** '* ™"** '**'® ''*^" ^^^^ ^^ every American

nobler things' thi »' »to has ever written about the prairle-

cBB^ro^'and bui ^* ^*^ '**' **"' nearest travelling companions

Who does not i '" commercial gentlemen of a facetious turn,

that thrUlad ti ^° oertainly did their best to amuse our wom-

en-folk. It was the lieutenant, of course, who
had made their acquaintance. One was a Phil»<
delphian. '^) other a New Yorker; but both
were in . sewing-machine business; and it
was their av 3unt of their various experiences
in travelling that had induced Von Rosen to
join their conversation. They were merry gen>
tlemen. They ventured to ask what might be
his line of business — white goods, or iron, or
Western produce ?

" And if it is white goods, what then ?" said
the ex-soldier, with great sang-froid.

"Why, Sir," said the Philadelphian, gravely
taking out a number of cards, " because money
is money, and biz is biz ; and you want to know
where to buy cheap. That's Philadelphia sure
— the American metropolis — the largest city in
the world — ^yes. Sir .'—eighteen miles by eight-
two rivers — going to have the Centennial — the
best shad — "

He was regarding the New Yorker all this
thne.

" Yes — shad 1" said his companion, with affect*
ed contempt; for we could see that they were
bent on being amiably funny. "If you want
shad, go to Philadelphia — and cat-fish, too— cat-
fish suppers at the Falls only seyenty-flve cents
a head. And fresh butter, too— go to Philadel-
phia for fresh butter, and reed-birds, and coun-
try board — best country board outside of Jersey
— keep their own cuws — fresh milk, and all that.
But if you WANT TO TRADE, colonel, come to New
York ! New York ain't no village — no one-hoi-se
place — no pigs around our streets. We've got
the finest harbor in the world, tlie highest stee<
pies, the noblest park, the greatest newspapers,
the most magnificent buildings — why, talk about
your Coliseums, and Tuileries, and Whitechapel,
and them one-horse shows — come and see our
Empire City !"

" Yes ; and leave your purse in Philadelphia
before you go!" sneered his enemy, who quite
entered into the spirit of the thing. " And ask
your friend here ^o show you the new Court-
house, and tell you how much tluU cost ! Theu
let him drive you up the avenues, and have your
life insured before you start, and show you the
tar-and-sand, the mush-and-molasses pavements
— patent pavements! Then ask him to intro>
duce you to his friend the Boss, and mebbe he'll
tell you how much the Boss got away with. And
then about the malaria? And the fever and
ague ? And the small-pox ? And people dying
off so fast they've got to run special trains for
the corpses ? And the Harlem Flats ?"

" Now hire a hall, won't you ?" said the Knick-
erbocker. "Hasn't our cat got a long tail 1 Why,
you could roll up FhiladclpHk into a bundle and
drop it into a hole in the Harlem Flats. But I
wouldn't mislead you — no, Sir. If you want wa-
ter-power, go to Philadelphia — and grass — splen-
did grass — and mosquitoes. Tell him about the
mosquitoes, now ! Friend of mine in the sugar
line married and went to Philadelphia for his
honey -moon. Liked a quiet country life — no
racket, except the roosters in the rtioming— -liked
the cows, and beauties of nature — and took his
bride to a first-class hotel. Fine girl — bin chief en-
gineer on a double-stitch sewing-mac^jfan. Well,
Sir, the Philadelphia mosquitoes wenMUKve — you
bet. In the morning he took her to a hospital-
certain she had small-poz — ^two weeks before th«

116

dootora oould find it out The man's Ufa was ru-
ined — ^yes, Sir — never recorered from the shoclc ;
business went to the diclceus ; and he ran away
and jined the Mormons."

" Jined the Mormons !" cried the Philadel-
phian. "Why don't you tell the general the
Btory straight ? Don't fool the man. Jined the
Mormons! He tiirew her into a sugar vat —
sweets to the sweet, sez he — and married her
mother, and went to New Ycfk, and was elected
Mayor as the friend of Ireland— eleven hundred
thousand Irishmen, all yelling for the Pope, voted
for him. No, general, if you want to trade with
Americans, with white men, you come to Phila-
delphia; we live cheap and we sell cheap; and
vith our new line of steamers, and our foreign
trade—"

"Tell him aboijt the canal-boats — why don't
you tell him about the three canal-boats ?" said
the other, scornfully. "It is a fact, general —
when three canal-boats loaded with pop-corn and
sauer-itraut got to Philadelphia, the Mayor called
out the militia for a parade — yes. Sir! — the town
was iiluraiimted ; the newspapers had leaders on
the revival of commerce, and the people all had
two inches sewed on to their coat-tails. And
mind, guiieral, when you go to Philadelphia, you
tell the conductor where to stop — tell him the
wood-and-water station opposite Camden — the
train stops by signal — "

Whither this conflict might have led us can
only be conjectured. It was interrupted by our
halting at a small staliuti to have a midday din-
ner. And we did not fail to remark tliat the shy
"*nd handsome girls who waited ca the crowd of
avenoiii) people in this humble hostelry had bright
complexions and clear eyes that spoke well for
the air of this high-'ying country. The lieutenant
was furious because he could get nothing but wa-
ter or iccJ tea to drink. His wife remarked that
she iioped he would always be as well off, show-
ing that she had had her speculations about her
probable life as a ranch-woina.i. But another
member of the party was anxious to get away as
soon as possible from the devouring multitude;
and when she was out^aide again, on the plat-
form, she revealed the cause of that pensivencss
that had at times dwelt over her face during the
morning.

" Really now, r««%, do you think I was right?"
she says, in a low voice. "I have been thinking
over it. It seems so cruel. The poor thing is
just breaking her heart over the mistake she has
made — in ever leaving him ; and now, when she
would have this excuse, this opportunity of ap-
pealing to him, of going to him without any ap-
peal, it seems dread&il to keep her in ignorance."

"Tell her, then.""

" But the responsibility is terrible," she pleads
•gain.

"Certainly. And you absolve yourself by
waiting to know what Balfour's wishes are.
What more?"

" If — if I had a daughter — of her age," she
says, with the usual quiver of the under lip, " I
do not think I shoula let her go further and fur-
ther awby from her husband just when there was
« chance of reconciling them — "

" WiUHfte chance be less next week, or the week
After? *in<veter, do as you like. If yon tell
her, yon must appeal to her not to do any thing
tMb. Say you have written. Or you mtf^t sug-

gest, if she is so very penitent, that she ahouli
write to her husband — "

" Oh, may I do that ?" ezolaims this tender
eyed hypocrite, as if she ever demanded pcrmia
sion to do any thing she had set her mind on.

You never saw one woman so pet another ai
she petted Lady Sylvia during the rest of tha
day. She had never shown so much solicitou!
attention for the comfort of her own children, ai
far as any of us had ever noticed. And it wai
all because, no doubt, she was looking fomnn
to a sentimental scene when we should arrive ai
Omaha, in which she should play the part of
beneficent fairy, and wise counselor, and earnesi
friend. Happily it did not occur to her to hav(
a scene in the railway car before a score of people

This railway car, as the evening fell, was a sort
distress to us. Our wish to have that fleetin
glimpse of the Mississippi had led us to come ot

from Chicago by one of the slow trains, and from ^''I'l'taiiily

Burlington there was no Pullman car. Ordinarily

ter reflec
We were
Omaha, c
utliur si(l<
All en^ii:
turned In
be followi
gcrs by oi
wit!) thu)
whore els
ippuaran
up and d
the least
or so had
teemed di
ter.-i, wiiic
ciuiin for
lie den
eil tu wal

understan
likely, to I
bu lii
in;; to hin
"iiud in
blacic wid
yon if we
Iceilm tfui
demandud
barrow an

" I gues

" We ra
half a doz

"That's
lamp.

It was 1
rived, and
welcome c
dined to i
ments ful
crowded t
tween the
by we had
/t

this is about the pleasantest part of the long trann
continental ride from New York to San i raimi
CO ; for on it are dining-cars, wliich have witliit
their narrow compass pretty nearly every luxiirj
which the fancy of ma)i could desire, and wiiicb
therefore offer a capital way of passing the time
If one must go on travelling day after day with
out ceasing, it is surely a pleasant thing to occtip;
the last two or three hours of the evening by en
tertaining your friends to a banquet — and if yoi
are alone, the conductor will accept an off-liunc
invitation — of twelve or fourteen dishes, wliiii
the foaming grape of Eastern France, if Catawba
will not content you, is hard by in an iced celiur
With these wild delights we should have bcci
disposed to dispense had we obtained the com
parative seclusion of a Pullman car ; hut as tiu
long and dull evening set in we learned some
thing of the happiness of travelling in an ordinary
car in America. During the day we had spent
most of the time outside ; now we had to bcai
vith what composure we could show the stiHinj
odors of this huge and overcrowded compartment '"■> o'^ei
while the society to which we were introduce! J""'J' "*'*
was not at all fastidious in its language, or in iti ''''"^'* """^
dress, or in the food which it plentifully ate
The lieutenant said nothing when a drunken worn
an sat down on his top-coat and refused to alio*
it to be removed ; but he did remonsi . .e pitif nil]
against the persistent shower of beetles that kepi
falling on our heads and necks. We could no
understand whence these animals came. Theii |*s'"o"|
home could not be the roof of the car, for thej v w'"»dere
were clearly incapable of maintaining a footinj **''"® ^*""^
there. Or were we driving through an Egyptiai '"?" •** ^'"
plague of them ; and did they come in througl '**• '''*-'^'' i
the ventilators? It was a miserable evening J"" plung(
The only escape from the foul odors and the tall """''^ "^^^
and the' shreds of food was sleep ; and the closi p^^^i J"*'^o
atmosphere gave its friendly help ; but sleep is ap ^*'-'" •j'''"
to disarrange one's head-covering ; and then, tha '"i-'mselvea
guard removed, the sudden sensation of having i ~ witliout
beetle going down the back of one's neck ban •''®** ^^^^
ishes sweet dreams. About half past eight o "antically
nine we got to Council Bluffs ; and right glad wer !J '«« '"*
we to get out for a walk up and down the w« *^^^^ ^"'?'
platform— for it had been .aining— in the pitcl "[^ ^o^i*}
darkness "^ Jie "swisl

Nor shall we forget Council Bluffs soon. W ?|"ng«'i »"
spent three mortal hours there. All that we sai ™er to pt
was a series of plankri, with puddles of dirty m ""^ •»*°'^'" *

sky, and tl
be moving
ly hungry
tality of
Alas! a
received u

kt, that she ahouli

ilaima this tender
demanded pcrmis
let her mind on.

80 pet another ai
g the rest of tha
BO much solicitou!
ur own children, ai
ticed. And it wai
8 loolcing foi-wnn
we sliould arrive al
play the part of
iiselor, and earnest
;cur to her to liaT(
re a score of people
]ing fell, was a son
have that fleeting
1 led us to come oc
)w trains, and f ron
an car. Ordinarilj
rt of the long tran»
»rk to San Francis
which have within
learly every luxiirj
1 desire, and wlilci
if passing the time
ilay after day with
ant thing to oceiip;
the evening by en
anquet — and if yoi
accept an off-liuni
rtcen dishes, whii^
France, if Catawb]
jy in an iced celhir

should have ben

obtained the com
an car ; but as tli(

we learned some
lling in an ordinarj

day we had speni
)W we had to beai
d show the stillin|
wded compartment
re were introdiicei

language, or in iti

it plentifully ate
leh a drunken worn
nd refused to alio
smonsi c .epitifiill;
of beetles that kep
ks. We could no
mals came. Tiiei
)f the car, for the;
intaining a footinj
trough an Egyptiai
ly come in througl

eep ; and the cloi
ilp; but sleep is ap
ing ; and then, tin

(lUKEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

Ill

ter reflecting the light of one or two gas-lamps.
Wu were now on one hitnk of the MIs.souri ; and
Omaha, our dcstinutiuii, wiix iniincdiutuly on tiiu
utiier side, wiiile there iiitci'venuil an iron lii'iil;;e.
An engine would have taken im ucrusH ami re-
turned in a very short time. Kut ttystum must
be followed. It was the cu^ttoiii that the |m)<sen-
gcrs by our train simuld betaken over in company
with those arriving by a train due from sonie-
whuru else; and as that train had not made its
ippearanue, why should we not contiimo to puce
up and down the muddy platform i It was not
the least part of our anxiety that, after an hour
or so had passed, ex-Lieutoaant Oswald Von Rosen
teemed disponed to eut xix or seven railway |)or-
ter.-i, which would have involved us in a serious
chiiin for damages.

He demanded whether we could not bo allow-
ed to walk across the bridge and on to Oinulia.
Certainly not. He wanted to have some clear
understanding as to how late this other train was
li|{ciy«to be. Nobody knew.

' Du lieber Himinel !" we heard him mutter-
iii<; to himself, somewhere about eleven o'clock,
"iind in this cunfonndeJ country the very nky is
black with telegraph-lines, and they can not tell
you if we shall be here all the night! Is it tlie
ketlea tliat have stopped the train?" ho suddenly
demanded of a guard who was sitting on a baud-
barrow and playfully swinging a lamp.

" I guess not," was tl;e calm answer.

" We might have bcei: over tiiu liver and back
half a dozen times — eh V"

"That's so," said the guard, swinging the
lamp.

It was near midnight when the other train ar-
rived, and theu the station resounded with the
we'come cry of " All aboard !" But we flatly de-
clined to re-enter one of those hideous compart-
ments full of foul smulls and squalor. We
crowded together on the little iron balcony be-
tivecn the cars, clinging to the rail:) ; and by-and-
by we had a dim impression that wu were in mid-
air, ovei' the waters of the Missouri, which we
could not see. We could only make out the
kliick bars of the iron bridge against the black
sliv, and that indistinctly. Still, we were glad to
be moving ; for by this time we were desperate-
ly hungry and tired ; and the sumptuous bospi-
tulity of Omaha was just before us.

Alas ! alas ! the truth iniiHt ha told. Omaha
received us iu the most cruel and hard-hearted
fashion. First of all, we imagined we had blind-
ly wandered into a kingdom of the bats. There
vere some lights in the station, it is true ; but as
loon as we had got into the hotel omnibus and
left these gloomy rays it appeared as though we
mi'serabte eveni'iig ['^'^ plunged into oiter darkness We did not
odors and the tall '""'^* *""" '"** ^"® municipal autbonties of the
ig, place, recognizing the fact that business had not
been brilliant, and that taxes lay heavily on
tliemsclves and their neighbors, had resolved to
n8ation"of having I '''^ without gus in order to save expense. All we
of one's neck ban '"'®** ***** *'**'' *'"* ^''^ omnibus went plunging
half past eight « f'antically through absolute blackness, and that
and richt glad wep '^ ^^^ '"<>»» alarming manner. For what were
and down the we "^^^ strange noises outside ? At one moment
Ining-in the pitcl l'^ would go jerking down into a hollow, and
' ° "^ Ine "swish of water sounded as if we had

1 Bluffs soon. VI ^'uDged into a stream, while we clung to each
All that we sai "'^^^ ^^ prevent our being flung from one end to

I aflerwiird, it really did appear to us that the

i horses w*>'''> *";'ing to climb up tlie side of a

j house. There was one sinuli lamp that threw its

I feeble ray both outward nnil inward ; and we

I saw through a window a wild vi^'ioll of a puir of

I spectral horses appareiilly iu mid-air, wiiilc- inside

the omnibus (he lieutciiunt was down at tiic door,

vainly trying to keep his wife from tumbliug on

the top of him.

" It is my firm conviction," suid Queen T ,

panting with her struggles, " that we arc not go-
ing along a road at all. We are going up the
bed of tlie Missouri."

Then there were one or two more violent
wreuchcs, and the vehicle stopped. We scram-
bled out. Wu turned an awe-stricken glance in
the direction we had come ; nothing was visible.
It was with a great thankfulness that the ship-
wrecked inuriners made their way into the hotel.
But was it hospitable, was it fair, was <t Chris-
tian of the (tiand Central of Omaha to receive
us as it did, nf(cr our inuiiifuld perils by laud
and watery Hud we been saved from drowning
only to perish of starvation y In the gloomy and
echoing hall loud sounded the remonstrances of
the irate lieutenant.

" What do you say ?" he demanded of the high-
ly indifTercnt clerk, who had just handed ui our
keys. "Nothing to eat? Nothing to drink?
Nothing at all ? And is this a hotel ? H6 ! It
is nonsense what you say. Why do you let your
servants go away, and have every thing shut up ?
It is the business of a hotel to be open. Where
is vour kitchen — your larder — what do vou call

ity"

In reply the clerk merely folded up his book
of names, and screwed out one of the few re-
maining light*). Happily there were ladies pres-
ent, or a deci of blood would have dyed that
dismal hall.

At this moment we heard the click of bill-
iards.

" Ha !" said the lieutenant.

He darted off in that direction. We had seen
something of billiard saloons in America. We
knew there were generally bars there. We knew
that at the bars there were frequently bread and
cheese supplied gratis. Behold 1 the foraging
soldier returns! His face is triumphant. In
his hands, under his arms, are bottles of stout ;
his pockets are filled with biscuits ; he has a pa-
per packet of cheese. Joyfully the procession
moves to the floor above. With laughter and
gladness the banquet is spread out before us;
let the world wag on as it may, there is still, now
and again, some brief moment of happiness. And
we forgave tiie waiting at Council Bluffs, and we
forgot the beetles, and we drank to the health
of Omaha !

But it was too bad of you, Omaha, to receive
us like that, all the same.

uddles of dirty m

the other of the vehicle. And then, two seconds

CHAPTER XLIIL . i

IN KNOLAMD. > V- V .«'.

" I AM not frightened, but stunned — complete
ly stunned," said Balfour, his hands on his knees,
his head bent down. The ever-faithful Jewsbuiy
had at once gone to him on healing the news;
and now the small man with the blue spectacles

/ '

m I

,:. i I

^11

Btood confronting him, all the joyousnuHS gone
out of his resonunt voice. " I feel tliure niuHt be
a cleun sweep. I will go down to The Lilau«,
and send over one or twu thingA belonging to —
to ray wife — to her father's; then everjF thing
must go. At present I feel that I have no rigiii
to spend a shilling on a telegram — "

" Uh," said Mr. Jewsbury, " when the hcuvens
rain mountains, you needn't be afraid of stones."
What he exactly meant by this speech he him-
self probably scarcely knew. He was nervous,
and very anxious to appear the reverse. ''No-
body will expect you to do any thing outre. You
won't bring down the debts of the tirm by giv-
ing up the postage-stamps in your pocket-bttok ;
and of course there will be an arrangement;
and — and there are plenty of poor men in the
House—"

" I have just sent a message down to Engle-
bury," he said, showing but little concern. " 1
have resigned."

"But why this frantic haste f" remonstrated
his friend, in a iirnier voice. " What will you
do next f Do you imagine you are the only man
who has coniu tumbling down and has had to
get up again — slowly enougli, perhaps V"

" Oh no ; not ut ull," said Balfour, frankly.

"I am in no despairing mood. I only want to

..get the decks clear fur action. I have got to

earn a living somehow, und 1 should only be

haiupeied by a seat in Puriiument."

" Why, there are a hundred things you could
do, and still retain your seat !" his friend cried.
" Uo to some of your friends in the late govern-
ment, get a private secretaryship, write polit-
ical articles for the papers — why, bless you, there
are a hundred ways — "

"No, no, no," Balfour said, with'a laugh ; "I
don't propose to become a bugbear to the people
I used to know — a man to be avoided when you
catch sight of him at the end of the street, a
button-holer, a perpetual claimant. I am off
from London, and from England too. I dare
say I shall find some old friend of my father's
ready to give me a start — in China or Australia
— and as I have got to begin life anew, it is
lucky the blow fell before my hair was gray.
Come, Jewsbury, will you be my partner * We
will make our fortune together in a half dozen
years. Let us go for an expedition into the Bush.
Or shall we have a try at Peru ? I was always
certain that the treasures of the lucas could be
discovered."

" But, seriously, Balfour, do you mean to leave
England f " the clergyman asked.

"Certainly."

"Lady Sylvia?"

The brief glimpse of gayety left bis face in-
stantly.

" Of course she will go to her father's when
she returns from America," said he, coldly.

"No, she will not," replied his friend, with
some little warmth. " I take it, from what you
have told me of her, that she is too true a wom-
an for that. It is only now you will discover
what a good wife can be to a man. Send for
her. Take her advice. And see what she will
■ay if you propose that she should abandon you
in your trouble and go back to her father ! See
what she will say to that I"

Jewsbury spoke with some vehemence, and he
did not notice that his companion bad become

GUEEN PASTUKKS AND PICCADILLY.

strangely moved. It was not often that Balfour]
gave way to emotion.

" Why," said ho ; and then he suddenly ro8(
und took a turn up and down the room, fur In
could not speak for a moment. " Jewsbury, shel
left me ! She left mi> !"

" She left you ?" the other vaguely repeated,
staring at the young man, who stood' there with
clinched hands.

"Do you think," Balfour continued, rapidly,!
with just a break here and there in his vuiuc,
"that I should be so completely broken duwn
over the loss of that money y I never cared foi
muniy nmch. That wuuld not hurt me, I think.
But it is hard, when you are badly hit, to
find—"

He made a desperate effort to regain his com-
posure, and succeeded. He was too proud tol
complain. Nay, if the story had to be told now,
he would take all the blame of the separation
on himself, and try to show that his wife had
fair grounds for declaring their married life un-
endurable. Mr. Jewsbury was a little bit bewil-
dered, but he listened patiently.

" You have done wrong in telling me jail that,"
said he at last. " I need never have known, for|
I sec how this will end. But how fortunate you
were to have that friend by you in such a crisis,
with her happy expedient. No one but a mar-
ried woman could have thought of it. If you
had formally separated — if she had gone back to
her father's — that would have been for Ufe."

"How do you know this is i)o'i.V "

"Because I believe every word of what that
ludy frie id of hers said to you. And if I don't
liMstiik'j," he added, slowly, " I don't think you
will find this loss of money a great misfortune,
I think if you were at this moment to appeal to
her — to suggest a reconciliation — you would see
with what gladness she would accept it."

" No," said the other, with some return to hi»
ordinary reserve and pride of manner. " Sbe
left me of her own free-will. If she had come
buck of her own free-will, well and gcKxi. But I
can not ask her to come now. I don't choose to
make an ad muericonHam appeal to any one.
And if she found that my Parliamentary duties
interfered with her notion of what our married
life should be, what would she think of the much
harder work 1 must attack somewhere or other
if I am to earn a living ? She would not accom
pany me from Surrey to Piccadilly : do you think
she would go to 3!ianghai or Melbourne H"

" Yes," said his friend.

" I, at least, will nut ask her," he said. " In
deed, I should be quite content if I knew that her
father could provide her with a quiet and com-
fortable home; but I fear he won't be able to
hold on much longer to the Hall. She was hap-
py there," he added, with his eyes grown thought-
ful. " She should never have left it. The inter-
est she tried to take in public affairs — in any
thing outside her own park — was only a dream,
a fancy; she got to hate every thing connected
with the actual business of the world almost di-
rectly after she was married — "

" Why ?" cried his friend, who had as much
shrewdness as most people. " The cause Is dear
— simple— H)bviou8. Public life was taking away
her husband from her a trifle too much. And if
that husband is rather a reserved person, and
rather inclined to let people take their own way.

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

119

itten that Balfour

he suddenly rose

1 the I'ooin, tor he

" JewHbury, she

vaguely repeated,
I stood there with

ontinued, rapidly,
;here in his voice,
tely broken down
1 never cared for
hurt me, 1 think!
ire badly hit, to

to regain his coni'
iraa too proud to
id to be told now,
of the separation
:hat his wife had
r married life uii'
a little bit bewil-

lling me jail that,"
' have known, for
low fortunate you
i in such a crisis,

one but a mar-
;ht of it. If you
had gone bacit to
been for life."

01 y
urd of what that
. And if I don't

don't think you
great misfortune,
luent to appeal to
1 — you would see
iccept it."
ime return to hi»
' manner. " She
If she had come
and g(K>d. But I
I don't choose to
peal to any one.
liamentary duties
irhat our married
;hink of the much
newhere or other
would not accom-
illy : do you think
ilbournel*"

'," he said. " In.
f 1 knew that her
a quiet and com-
won't be able to
II. She was hap-
18 grown thought-
tf t it. The inter-
: affairs — in any
as only a dream,
thing connected
world almost di'

lio had SB much
The cause is dear
was taking away
much. And U
Ted person, and
e their own way,

Instead of humoring them and reasoning with
them—"

" Well, now, I think you are right there," said
Balfour, with some eugernesH. "I should have
tried harder to persuade her. I should have had
more consideration. I should not have believed
In her refusals. But there," he added, rising,
"it is all over now. Will you go out for a stroll,
Jewsbury f I sha'n't bore you with another such
itory when you take a run out to see me at Mel-
bourne."

Now it happened that when they got out into
Piccadilly the Kew omnibus was going by, and
the same project struck both friends at the one
moment — for the wilder part of the Gardens had
It one time been a favorite haunt of theirs. A
Kcoud or two afterward they were both on the
lop of the omnibus, driving through the still,
farm air, greatly contented, and not at all afraid
of being seen in that conspicuous position. The
brisk motion introduced some cheerfulness into
their talk.

" After all, Balfour," said Mr. Jewsbury, with
philosophic resignation, "there are compensa-
tions in life, and you may probably live more
happily outside politics altogether. There was
ilways the chance— I may say so now^-of your
becoming somebody; and then you would have
(one on to commit the one unforgivable sin —
ihe sin that the EngUsh people never condone.
Tou might have done signal service to your coun-
try. You might have given up your days and
nights, you might have ruined your health, you
might have sacrificed all your personal interests
ind feelings, in working for the good of your
fellow • countrymen ; and then you know what
jrour reward would have been. That is the one
thing the English people can not forgive. You
would have been jeered at and ridiculed in the
dubs ; abused in the papers ; taunted in Parlia-
ment; treated every where as if you were at
once a self-seeking adventurer, a lunatic, and a
fiend bent on the destruction of the state. If
;ou had spent all your fortune on yourself, given
up all your time to your own pleasures, paid not
tlie slightest attention to any body around you
except in so far as they ministered to your com-
fort, then you would have been regarded as an
exemplary person, a good ni.an, and honest En-
gliiihinan. But if you had given up your whole
Ufe to trying to beneUt other people through wise
legislation, then your reward would be the pillory,
for every coward and sneak to have his fling at
you."

" My dear Jewsbury," Balfour said with a rue-
ful smile, " it is very kind of you to insist that the
grapes are sour."

" Another advantage is that you will have add-
ed a new experience to your life," continued the
philosopher, who was bent on cheering his friend
op a bit, "and will be in so much the completer
man. The complete man is he who has gone
through all human experiences. Time and the
law are against any single person doing it; hut
you can always be travelling in that direction."

Une ouglit, for example, to pick a pocket and
|et sent to prison ?"

" Certainly."

" And nin away with one's neighbor's wife V"

"Undoubtedly."

" And commit a murder?"

"No," replied this clerical person, "for that

might disturb the experiment — might bring It tor
an end, in fact. But there can bo no doubt that
Shakspeare committed several diabolical mur-
ders, and was guilty of the basest ingratitude,,
and was devoured with the most fiendish hatred —
in imagination. In turns he was n monster of
cupidity, of revenge, of Llood-thirstiiioss, of cow-
ardice. Other men, who hive not the power to
project themselves in this fasliion, can only learn
through action. It therefore follows that the
sooner you get yourself e ' to the tread-mill, the
better.'*^

"And indeed I suppose I am nearer it now
than I was a week ago," Balfour admitted. " And
perhaps I shall soon begin to envy and imitate
my esteeriied father-in-law in the little tricks b/
which he er .8 a few sovereigns now and again.
I used to be very severe on the old gentleman, but
I may have to take to sham companies myself."

With this and similar discourse the two sages
passed the time until they arrived at Kew. It
will be observed that as yet it was only a theo-
retical sort of poverty that had befallen Balfour.
It was a sort of poverty that did not prevent the
two friends from having a fairly comfortable
luncheon at a hotel down there, or from giving
up the day to idle sauntering through the wilder
and uncultivated portion of the Gardens, or from
indulging in useless guesses as to what might
have been had Balfour been able to remain in
Parliament.

" But in any case you will come back," con-
tinued Mr. Jewsbury, who was trying to espy a
squirrel he had seen run up the trunk of an eim ;
"and you will be burdened with wealth, and rich
in knowledge. Then, when you get into Parlia-
ment, shall I tell you what you must do ? Shall
I give you a project that will make your name
famous in the political history of your country f "

" It won't be of much use to me," was the an-
swer ; " but I know one or two gentlemen down
at Westminster who would be glad to hear of it."

" Take my proposal with you now. Brood over
it. Collect facts wherever you go. Depend on
it— "

"But what is it r

"The total abolition of that most pernicious
superstition — trial by jury. Why, man, I could
give you the heads of a speech that would ring
through tiie land. The incorruptibility of the
English bench — the vast learning, the patience,
the knowledge of the world, the probity, of our
judges. Then you draw a picture of one of these
judges laboriously setting out the facts of a case
before the jury, and of his astonishment at their
returning a verdict directly in the teeth of the
evidence. Think of the store of anecdotes you
could amass to get the House into a good humor.
Tiien H burst of pathetic indignation. Whose
'reputation, whose fortune, is sate if either de-
pends on the verdict of twelve crass idiots 'i A
bit of flush oratory on the pai-t of a paid pleader
may cost a man a couple of thousand pounds in
the face of common-sense and justice. Balfour,"
said Mr. Jew.sbuiy, solemnly, "the day on which
the verdict in tlie Tichborne case was announced
was a sad day for me."

" Indeed," said the other. " I have got an un-
cle-in-law who l>elieves in Tich yet. I will give
you a note of introduction to him, and you might
mingle your tears."

" I was not thinking of Tich," continued Mr.

ISO

UUUKN FASTUftiiii AND PICCADILLV.

Jewabury, carefully plaltinf; some long grnHs to-
gether ; " I was thinking uf tliis great putiltnil
project which I am willing to put into your liunds ;
it will keep a few years. And I was thinking
what a great opportunity was lost when those
twelve men brought in a verdict tliat Arthur Ur-
ton was Arthur Orton. I had almost cuunteJ
on their bringing in a verdict that Anliur Urton
was Roger Tiuhborne ; but if that wan tuu much
to hope for, then, at least, I took it for granted
that tliey wt)uld disagree. That single fact would
have been of more use to you than a hundred ar-
guments. Armed with it, you might have gone
forward single-handed to hew down this num-
etrous institution." And here Mr. Jewsbury aim-
ed a blow at a mighty chestnut-tree with the cord
of grass ho had plaited. The chestnut-tree did
sot tremble.

" However, I see you are not interested," the
«mall clergyman continued. "That is another
fact you will learn. A man without money pays
little heed to the English Constitution, unlesj he
hopes to make something out of it. What is the
immediate thing you mean to do Y"

" I can do nothing at present," Balfour said,
absently. "The lawyers will be let loose, of
course. Then I have written to my wife request-
ing her — at least making the suggestion that she
should give up the money paid to her under the
marriage settlement — "

" Stop u bit," said Mr. Jewsbury. " I won't
say that you have been Quixotic ; but don't you
think tliiit, before taking such a step, you ouglit
to havu ^'ut to know what the — the custom is in
such things — what commercial people do— what
the creJiioi's themselves would expect you to
do?"

" I can not take any one's opinion on the point,"
Balfour said, simply. " But of course I only
made the suggestion in informing her of the
facts. She will do what she herself considers
right."

" I can not understand your talking about your
wife in that tone," said Jewsbury, looking at the
impassive face.

" I think they mean to transfer — to the Lords,"
said Balfour, abruptly ; and so for a time they
talked of Parliamentary matters, just as if noth-
ing had happened since Balfour left Oxford. But
Jewsbury could see that his ccmpanion was think-
ing neither of Lords nor of Commons.

And indeed it was he himself, despite all his
resolve, who wandered back to the subject ; and
be told Jewsbury the whole story over uguin,
more amply and sympathetically than before;
and he could not give sufficient expression to the
gratitude he bore toward that kind and gracious
and generous friend down there in Surrey who
had lent him such swift counsel and succor in
his great distress.

"And what do you think of it all, Jewsbury?"
said lie, with all the proud reserve gone from his
manner and speech. "What will she do? It
was only a sort of probationary tour, you know —
she admitted that ; there was no definite separa-
tion—"

Mr. Jewsbury gave no direct answer.

" iMuch depends," he said, slowly, "on the sort
yf letter you wrote to her. From what you say,
I should imagine it was very injudicious, a little
bit cruel, and likely to make mischief."

CHAPTER XLIV.

THK UISCL08URC.

" Laut Sylvia," said Queen T , going up

to her friend, whom she found seated alone in
her room in this Omaha hotel, " 1 am going to
surprise you."

"Indeed," said the other, with a pleasant
smile ; for she did not notice the slightly trem-
bling hands; and most of <]ueen T 's sur-
prises for her friends were merely presents.

"I — hope I shall nui frirhtcu you," she con-
tinued, with some hesitation^ "you muSk prepara
yourself for — for rather bad news — "

She caught sight of the newspaper. Sht
sprung to her feet.

" My husband I" she cried, with a suddenl;
white face. But her friend caught her hands.

"lie is quite well; don't be alarned; it ii
only a — a — misfortune."

And therewith she put the paper into her
hand, with an indication as to where she should
look, while she herself turned aside somewhat
There was silence for a second or two. Then
she fancied she heard a low murmur — a moan of
infinite tenderness and pity and longing — " J/^
hmband/ my hmbandl" and then there was a
slight touch on her arm. Whea she turned,
Lady Sylvia was standing quite calmly there,
with her eyes cast down. Her face was a little
pale, that was all.

" I think I will go back to England now," said
she, gently.

And with that, of course, her friend began to
cry a bit; and it was with a groat deal of diffi-
culty and of resolute will that she proceeded to
speak at all. And then she bravely declared that
if Lady Sylvia insisted on setting out at once,
she would accompany her ; and it needed equal
bravery to admit what she had done — that she
had written to Mr. Balfour, begging him to let lu
linow what his plans were, and that she had told
him where he might telegraph —

" The telegraph !" cried Lady Sylvia, with a
quick light of joy leaping to her eyes. " I can
send him a message now ! He will have it tills
very day 1 I will go at once!"

" Yes, there is tlie telegraph," stammered her
friend, "and there is an office below in the hall
of the hotel. But — don't you think — it might be
awkward — sending a message that the clerks will
read—"

Lady Sylvia seized her friend's hands, and
kissed her on both cliecks, and hurried out of
the room, and down stairs. The elder woman
was rather taken aback. Why should she be so
warmly thanked for the existence of the tele-
graph, and for the fact that Mr. Balfour, M.P.,
was ruined ? '

Lady Sylvia went down stairs, and in the hall "oubt, in fo
she found the telegraphic office. She was not|". > *nd no^
afraid of any clerk of woman bora. She got
pencil, and the proper form ; and clearly and
firmly, after she had put in the address, she
wrote beneath — "il/y darling husband, may I 'Ppomted v
come to you ?" She handed the paper to tin Pccted to fii
clerk, and calmly waited until he had read it ""Or rather
through, and told her what to pay. Then shi '"» us to e
gave him the necessary dollars, and turned ad *** *^6° *'
walked through the hall, and came up the staira, Huddy,
proud and erect — as proud, indeed, as if she Ii8( ^ ^j**" the
just won the battle of Waterloo. panksands

And at

ing about
in ordint
right in
formed M
ed by the
siucerely-
iii the W(
business,
living, bu
Diun likcl
And woul
Inspectior
glimpse o
Bibility th
gland thai
Nein,
test. " It
the few du
to go bad
Here or
rather her
Sylvio.

"Oh no

smile. "

- not in t

how peopl

England.

believe on<

York; am

which seer

for the fire

not in the

Our Bel

was eni.'U}!

Lady SyKi

he would I

York anyh

I think

kind frient

place. Th

bad chang

lid the hit

were bridg

of the mos

rather to HI

we climbed

which is bui

ing of red

iuterest in

and listenei

the smartl;

dies who w

derstood al

tion. And

of this buili

spacious pa

over there

between tw

GREEN PASTURES AND I'lCCADILLY.

And the wm quite frank and fcarleaw in upeak*
ing about thi« failure, and treated it as if it were
an ordinary and trivial matter that could be put
right in a few minutuH. Her husband, she in-
formed Mr. Von Rosen — who was greatly distress-
ed by tlio news, and was consoling with her very
aincerely — was quite cupublo of holding his own
ill the world without any help from his father's
business. No doubt it would alter their plans of
living, but Mr. Balfour was not at all the sort of
niun likely to let ciicumstances overpower him.
And would it please us to set out at once on our
inspection of Omi.huy for she would like to get a
glimpse of the Missouri, and there was the pos-
sibility that she might have to start off for En-
gland that night.

" Nein /" cried the lieutenant, in indignant pro-
test. " It is impossible. Now that you have only
tlio few days more to goon — and then your friends
to go back — "

Here one of the party intimated her wish — or
rather her fixed intention — of accompanying Lady
Sylvia.

" Oh no I" our guest said, with quite a cheerful
smile. " I am not at all afraid of travelling alone
- not in the I' . I have seen a great deal of
how people have to help themselves since I left
England. And that is not much hardship. I
believe one can go right through from here to New
York ; and then I can go to the Brevoort House,
whicli seemed the quietest of tiie hotels, and wait
for the first steamer leaving for Liverpool. I am
not in the least afraid."

Our Bell looked at her husband. That look
was en<.<ugh ; lie knew his fate wa? sealed. If
Lady Sylvia should set out that evening, he knew
ho would have to accompany her as far as New
York anyhow.

I think she quite charmed the hearts of the
kind friends who had come to show ua about the
place. The truth was that the recent heavy rains
had changed Omaha into a Slough of Despond,
and the huge holes of mud in the unmade streets
were bridged over by planks of wood that were
of the most uncertain character ; but she seemed
rather to like this way of laying out streets. Then
we climbed up to the heights above the town on
which is built tiie High School — a handsome build-
ing of red brick ; and she betrayed the greatest
mterest in the system of education followed here,
lud listened to the catechising of the children by
the smartly dressed and self-composed young la-
dies who were their teachers, just as if she un-
derstood all about co-sines and angles of reflec-
tion. And when we clambered up to the tower
shouidshe be so "^ ^^^'^ building, she was quite delighted with the
tence of the tele- >P<icious panorama spread out all around. Far
[r Balfour M.P., ^^^^ there wos a mighty valley — a braad plain
' ' ' between two long lines of bluffs — which was, no
and in the hall ^oubt, in former times worn down by the Missou-
c'c. She was not '' i ^■^^ ^^^^ ^^'^ plain, we could see, was scored
born. She got i ''*^"8 ^7 various channels, one of them, a little
nnd clearlv and ^<^rker in hue than the neighboring sand, being
the address she ^^ yellow Missouri itself. We were rather dis-
hmhand may I 'Ppointed with the mighty Missouri, which we ex-
thc paper to tlie ^^cted to find rolling down in grandeur to the sea
1 he bad read it ~^' rather to the Mississippi, if the poet will al-
pav Then shi '°* "' ^ make the correction. We considered
B and turned ani *** *ven the name they give it out here, the Big
a'me up the stairs, l^uddy, was misapplied, for it did not seem broad-
ieed as if she ha( ^ ^^'^^ *^^ Thames at Richmond, while the mud
jj ' tenks and sand bonks on both sides of it were of

T , going up

1 seated uloiiu ia
" 1 am going to

irith a pleasant
he slightly trctU'

sen T 's sur-

}\y presents.
:u yob," she con
you muSk prepan
«rs— "
newspaper. Bh«

with a suddenly
ight her bands,
le alaraied; it ii

I paper into her
where she should
aside somewliat
id or two. Then
irmur — a moan of
id longing— "Jfy
then there was a
'he>i she turned,
ite calmly there,
r face was a little

ngland now," said

!r friend began to
^rent deal of' diffl-

she proceeded to
ively declared that
ting out at once,
d it needed equal
d done — that she
;ging him to let un

that she had told

dy Sylvia, with a

ler eyes. "I can

will have it this

/' stammered her
liclow in the hall
liink — it might be
hat the clerks will

end's hands, and
tid hurried out of
The elder woman

the dreariest sort. But she would not hear •
word said against the noble river. No duubt at
other times of the year it had sutUcioiit vuIjiuo;
and even now, was there not something my.stcri-
ous in this almost indistinguishablu river rolling
down t'.irough that vast, lonely and appaiently
uniiihaoited plain f As for Omaha, it looked as
bright as blue skies and sunshine io:ilil make it.
All around us were the wooden shanties and the
occasional houses of stone dotted about in promis-
cuous fasiiion ; out there on the green undula>
tions where the prairie begin ; oil the sides of
the bluffs where the trees were ; and along the
level mud-bed of the river, where the railway
works and smelting- works were sending up a
cloud of smoke into tiie still, clear air. We vis-
ited tliese works. She listened with great inter-
est to the explanations of the courteous officials,
mill struck up a warm friendship with a civil en-
gineer at the railway works, doubtless because
lie spoke with a Scotch accent. But, after all,
we could see she was becoming anxious and nerv-
ous, and rather before mid-day wo proposed to
return to the hotel for luncheon.

Four hours liud elapsed.

"But you must not make sure of finding an
answer awaiting you, my dear Lady Sylvia," said
her ever-tliouglitful friend. " There may bo de-
lays. Ani Mr Balfour may be out of town."

AH the sam she did make sure of an answer;
and when, on arriving at the hotel, slie was in-
formed that no telegrani had come for her, she
suddenly went away to her own room, and we did
not see her for some little time. Wlicn slie did
make her appearance at lunch, we did not look at
her eyes.

She would not go out with us for our further
explorations. She had a headache. She would
lie down. And so she went away to her own
room.

But the curious thing was that Queen I'

would not accompany us either. U wus only aft-
erward that we learned that slie had kept flutter-
ing about the hall, bothering the patient clerks
with inquiries as to the time that a telegram took
to reach London. At last it citnie, and it was
given to her. We may suppose that she carried
it up stairs qr' i< enough, and with a btjiting
heart. What iiappened in the room she only re-
vealed subsequently, bit by bit, for her voice was
never quite stcatly about it.

Siie went into the room gently. Lady Sylvia
was seated at a table, her hands on -the table, her
head resting on them, and she was sobbing bit-
terly. She was deserted, insulted, forsaken. He
would not even acknowledge the appeal she had
made to him. But she started up when she heard
some one behind her, and would have pretended
to conceal her tears but that she saw the tele-
gram. With trembling fingers she opened it,
threw a hasty glance at it, and then, with a
strange, proud look, gave it back to her friend,
who was so anxious and excited that she could
scarcely read the words — " No. I am coming to
you." And at the same moment all Lady Sylvia's
fortitude broke down, and she gave way to a pas-
sion of hysterical joy, throwing her arms round
her friend's neck, and crying over her, and mur-
muring close to her, " Oh, my angel I my angel ! mr
angel ! you have saved to me all that was worth
living fori" So much can imaginative people
make out of a brief telegram.

QREEN PAHTIUES AND PICCADILLY.

i i

? I

The two women leemed quite mad mIicii we
returned.

" He is coming out ! Mr. Balfour in i-omitiK to

Join ui t" sayH Quuvn T , witti n wild tiiu of

•xultiitlon in her fiicv, as if the inillcnniuni wen-
•t hand ; and Lady Sylvia wait Hitting there, proud
enough too, hut lOMv-rud in the face, iiud with
•vi-rted eyc8.

And here occtirrcd a thing which has always
been a memorable puzzle to uh.

" Hu !" cried the lieutenant, in the midot of an
excitement which the women in vain endeavored
to conceal ; " that rifle ! Does he remember that
wonderful Hmull rifle of hix? It will be of 8uch
ase to him in the Rocky Mountnins. I think —
jee, I think it in worth a telegraiD."

And he went down Htiiira to Hquiinder his mon-
ey in that fashion. Hut, wo asked oursclveg aft-
erward, did lie know V Had ho and hia wife bu8-
pected y llud they dlscuttsed the affairs of Lndy
Sylvia and her husband in those quiet conjugal
talks of which the outsider can never guess tlio

Eurport? And had this young man, with all hia
luntness and g<H>d-natured common-Hcnse and
happy mutter - of -fttutness, suddenly seized the
dramatic situation, and called ahtud about this
twopenny-hiilf-pennv business of a pea-shcotor all
to convince Lady Sylvia of tlio general ignorance,
and put her at her ense ? He cunie up a few mo-
ments afterward, whistling.

"There is antelope," said he, seriously, " nnd
the mountain sheep, and the blucktuiled deer,
and the bear. Oh, he will have much amusement
with us when ho conies to Idaho."

" You forget," says Lady Sylvia, smiling, though
her eyes were quite wet, " thiit he will be thinking
of other things. He has got to find out how he
has got to live first."

" Uow he has got to live ?" said the lieutenant,
with a shrug of hia shoulders. "That is simple.
That is easy. Any man can settle that. He has
got to live — hap|iy, and let things take their
chance. What harm in a holiday, if he comes
with me to shoot one or two bears V"

" Indeed you will do nothing of the kind," said
his wife, severely : she had too much regard for
her babes to let the father of them go off cndan-
gerii^ his life in that fashion.

That was a pleasant evening. Our friends
came to dine with us, nnd wc settled all our plans
for our expedition to the Indian reservations ly-
ing far up the Missouri Valley. And who was
first down in the morning? and who was most
delighted with the cicnr coolness of the air and
the blue skies ? und who was most cheerful and
philosophical when we discovered, at the station,
ami wlien it was too late, that the carpet-bag we
had stuffed witii wine, beer, nnd branily for our |
stay in these temperate climes had been left be-
hind at the hotel V

Tlie small branch line of railway took us only
about forty miles on our way. We went up the
immensely broad valley of the river, which wos at
this time only a rivulet. The valley was a plain
of rich vegetation — hmg water-color washes of
yellow nnd russet and olive green. The further
side of it was bounded by a distant line of bluffs,
bright blue in color. Close by us were the cor-
responding bluffs, broken with ravines which were
filled with cotton-trees, and which opened out into
a thick nnder-wood of sunflowers ten feet high
and of deep-hued sumac. Overhead a pale blue

dky and soma white cloud*. Then, as we art
liM)kiug up into the light, wo see an IrnmenRe flo( k
of wild-geese making up the stream, divided into
two lines, representing the letter V placed luiii
zontally, but more resembling a handful of diiat
flung high into the uir.

About mid-day we reached the terminus of tlie
line, Tekamnh, a collectl(m of wooden shantlM
and houses, with a few cotton-trees about. We
had hmcheon in a curious little inn which had
originally been a block-house against the Indlani,
tluit is to fcy, it had been composed of sawn trees
driven into the earth, with no windows on the
ground-floor. By the time we had finished lunch-
eon, our two carriages were ready — high sprlngcd
vehicles with an awning, and each with a moder-
ately good pair of horses. We set out for our
halting-place, Decatur, sixteen miles off,

That drive up the bed of the Missouri we shall
not soon forget. There was no made road at all,
but only a worn track through the dense vegeta-
tion of this swampy plain, while ever and anon
this track was barred across by ravines of rich,
deep, black, succulent mud. It was no uuusuiil
thing for us to see first one horse and tlien its
companion almost disappear into a hole, we look-
ing down on them ; then there would be a fierce
struggle, a plunge on our part, and then we were
looking up at the hor.-^cs pawing the bank above
us. How the springs held out wo could not un-
derstand. I'ut iH'iai-ionaliy, to avoid these ruts,
we made long detours through the adjacent prai-
rie-land lviu<; over the Muffs; and certainly tills
was much pieaiianlor. \\\: wont through a wil-
derness of Hov.ers, and the scent of the tramplud
May-weed filled all the air nriiund us. How Kn-
glisli horses would have lu-liaved in tills wilder-
ness was a prolilein. Tlie suiiliowers were lii^li-
er than our aiiiiiials' heads ; they could nov pos.
sibly see where they were going ; but, all the same,
they slowly ploughed their way through the for-
est of crackling stems. But before we renclicil
Decatur we had to return to the mud swamp,
which was here worse than ever; for now it aj)-
peared as if there were a series of rivers ruuuiiiK
at right angles to the broad black track, and our
two vehicles kept plunging through the water and
mud as if we were momentarily to be sucked down
into a morass. The air was thick with insect life,
and vast clouds of reed-birds rose, as we passed,
from the sunflowers. There was a red flre all
over the west as we finally drove into the vallc;
of the Decatur.

It was a strange-looking place. The first ob-
jects that met our eyes were some Indian boys
riding away home to the reservations on their po-
nies, and looking picturesque enough with their
ragged and scarlet pantaloons, their open-foreast-
ed shirt, their swarthy face and shining black
hair, nnd their arms swinging with the gallopinf;
of the ponies, though they stuck to the saddle liive
a leech. And these were strange-looking gentle-
men, too, whom we met in the inn of Decatur—
tall, swanking fellows, with big riding-boots and
loose jackets, broad-shouldered, spare-built, un-
washed, unshaven, but civil enough, though ther
set their broad-brimmed hats with a devil-may-
care air on the side of their head. We had din-
ner with these gentlemen in the parlor of the inn.
There were two dishes — from which each helped
himself with his fingers — of some sort of dried
flesh, which the lieutenant declared to be pelican

Then, ai we ar*
an iinniuiiRi' Hock
cum, dividud iiitu
jr V placud lioii-
\ handful of dimt

e torminiia of the
wooden ahantio*
rco8 ubout. We
le hin which had
ainfit the Indiani,
med of Hawii tivca
whidowa on the
lid finished hinuh-
y — high aprinRcd
vh witli n modur-
.' act out for out
[lileH off.

MixMouri we Rlmll
made road at all,
tlie dense vegcta-
lo ever and anon
f ravines of rich,
; wuH no unuHiiiil
ii'Ho and tlivn iu
a a hole, we loui<-
would be a ttmce
tnd then we were
i;; the bank above
we could not iin-
uvoid theHo ruts,
;hu adjacent priii-
iiid certainly tliis
lit through a wil-
t of the tramplvd
nd UH. How Kn-
•d in thia wildur-
owcra were liijjli-
jy could Kov poM.
but, all the 8aino,
through the for-
fore we rcarlicil
;lie miui swamp,
r; for now it n])-
of rivers ruiiiiiiii;
.■k track, and our
gjli the water and
9 be sucked down
k with insect life,
ise, as we passed,
as a red fire all
e into the valley

e. The first ob-
onie Indian boys
tions on their po-
nough with their
heir open-breast-
id shining black
ith the galloping
to the saddle like
je-looking gentle-
nn of Decatur—
riding-boots and
spare-built, un-
iigli, though they
ith a devil-may-
d. We had din-
larlor of the Inn.
nich each helped
T»e sort of dried
red to be pelican

UREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

12S

of the wilJemess, and there were pninca and tea.
We feared our friendit were hIiv, for they did not
ipeak ut all belurc our womenfolk. In a few
minuter they dinpoited c)f their nieul, and went
out to a bench iu front of the houxe to amoke.
Then the lieutenant — so aa not to ahock these
temperate people — produceil one of aevcral bot-
tlea of Catawba which he had procured at aoino
way-aldu st-ition before we loft the railway. In
appearance, when poured out, it waa rather like
ti-a, though not at all ao clour; and, in fact, the
taste was bo unlike any thing wo had ever met
before that we ur.animuualy pronounced In favor
of the tea. Out the lieutenant would try another
battle; and that being a trifle more palatable,
are had much pleasure in drinking a toast. And
the toast we drank waa the safety of the gallant
ihip that was Boon to carry Ludy Sylvia's hua-
band acroHs the Atlanth;.

CHAPTER XLV.

riRE CHIEF.

Next morning, as we drove away from Deca-
tur, a cold white fug lay all along the broud val-
ley of the UiHsouri ; but by-and-by the sun drank
it up, and the warm light seemed to wake into ac-
tivity all the abounding animal life of that bro-
ken and wcoded country that skirtH the prairie.
There were clouds of reed-birdM rising from the
iwamps as wo approached ; now and again a
mourning-dove quietly flew across; large hawks
hovered liigh in air ; and so abundant were the
young (]uail that it seemed as if our horses were
continually about to trample down a bi-ood ctwily
croasing the ro'd. We saw tlie gopher running
into his hole, and the merry little chipiuunk eying
UR a^we passed ; and at one point we gave a bad-
ger 7 bit of a chase, the animal ruietly trotting
down the road in front of us. The air waa cool
and pleasant. Dragon-flies flashed, and butter-
flies fluttered across la the 6uulight; it waa a
beautiful morning.

And at last we were told th' we were on the
reservation lands, though nothing Wus visible but
the broken bluffs and the open prairie beyond,
and on our right the immense v|jlley of the Mis-
bouri. But in time we came to a farm, and drove
up to a very well-built house, and here we made
the acquaintance of H V , who most court-
eously offered to act as our guide for the day.
He took a seat in our vehicle ; and though he was
rather ahy and silent at first, this constraint soon
wore off. And Lady Sylvia regarded our new ac-
quaintance with a great friendliness and interest,
for had she not heard the heroic story of his broth-
er, the last chief of the Omahas, " Logan of the
Fires ?" — how, when his tribe was being pursued
by the savage Sioux, and when there seemed to
be no escape from extermination, he himself, as
night fell, went off and kindled fire after fire, so
as to lead the enemy after him ; and how he had
the proud satisfaction of knowing, when he was
taken and killed, that he had saved the life of
every man, woman, and child of his followers.
We did not ironder that the brother of the hero
was regarded with much respect by the Omahas —
in fact, there was a talk, at the time of our visit,
of the smaller chiefs, or heads of families, elect-
ing him chief of the tribe. Indeed, the story re-

flected some romantic lustre ort the peaceful Oma-
has tlieniitelveM, and we began U) clierish a proper
contempt for their nelgliborx, tlie Wiunebugoeh —
thelirokcn remnant of the tribe wlilcli coniinilied
the liorrible nuiiotacres iu MinueHota soiiie yearit
ago, and wliicli, after iiaviiig been terribly punlHli-
eu and diHurinud, waa trauHferrcil bv the guvum-
inent to the prairie-land adjoining tiie Miniiouri.

But for the time being wu kept driving on and
on, without seeing Winnebago, or Onuihu, or any
sign of human life or occuputiou. Nothing but
the vast and endless billows of the prairie — a
beautiful yellow-green in the sun — receding into
the faint blue-wliite of the horizon ; while all
around us waa a mass of flowcrn, the Michael'
mas daisy being especially abundant ; while the
air waa every where scented with the aromatic
fragrance of the May-weed. We hud now quite
lost sight of the Minsouri Valley, and were pur-
suing tt path over this open prairie which loeenied
to lead to no place in )>articular. But while this
endless plain seemed quite unbroken, bare, and
destitute of trees, it was not reullv so. It was
intersected by deep and sharp gullies — the beds
of small tributaries of the Missouri, and the sides
of these gullies were lined with dense brusli-wood
und trees. It was certainly a country likely to
charm the heart of a tribe of Indians, if only they
were allowed to have weapons and to return to
their former hubits, for it offered every facility
for concealment and uinbuscadr*. But all that Is
a thing of the past, so far as t!io Mi.^souri Indi-
ans arc concerned; their young men have not
even the chance — taken by the young men of ap-
parently peaceable tribes Jiving on other rescrvo-
tions^-uf stealing quietly away to the Sioux ; fur
the Sioux and the Oiuulms have ever been deadly
enemies.

The danger we encoimtcrcd in (Icscending into
these gullies was not that of being surprised and
having our hair removed, but of the vehicle to
which we clung toppling over and going head-
long to the bottom. These break-neck r pproach-
es to the rude wooden bridges, where there were
bridges at all, were the occasion of nmch excite-
ment ; and our friendly guide, wliu seemed to treat
the fact of the vehicle hovering in uir, as if un-
certain which way to full, with much indifference,
must have umved at the opinion that English-
women were nmch given to screaming when their
heads were bumped together. In fact, at one
point they refused to descend in the carriage.
They got out and scrambled down on foot ; and
the driver, with that rare smile one sees on the
face of a man who has been hardened into gravi-
ty by the life of an early settler, admitted that,
if the vehicle had been full, it would most assured-
ly have pitched over.

At length we descried, on the green slope of
one of the far undulations, three teepees — tall,
narrow, conical tents, with the tips of the poles
on which the canvas is stretched appearing at the
top, and forming a funnel for the smoke — and
near them a herd of ^ies. But there were no
human beings visible, and our path did not ap-
proach these distant tents. The first of the In-
dians we encountered gave us rather a favorable
impression of the physique of the Omahas. He
was a stalwart young fellow ; his long black hair
plaited ; a blue blanket thrown round his square
shoulders. He stood aside to let the vehicle pass,
and eyed us somewhat askance. The few words

12«

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

y I

that F addressed to him, and whiuh he an-
swered, were of course unintelligible to ua. Then
we overtook three or four more, men and women,
in various nttire; but, altogether, they were bet-
ter in appearance and more independent in man-
ner tliuu the gypsy-looking Indiana we had sesn
skulking around the coutiues of the towns, in
more or less "civilized" dress, and not without a
side-glance for unconsidered trifles. These, we
■were told, were mostly Pawnees, though the Win-
nebagoes have in some measure taken to the neigh-
borhood of the towns on the chance of getting a
stray dollar by digging. After we passed these
few stragglers we were apparently once more on
the tenantl'^ss prairies ; but doubtless the Indians
who prefer to live in their teepees out on the
plain, rather than accept the semi-civilization of
the agency, had taken to the hollows, so that the
country around us was not quite the desert that
it seemed to be.

But a great honor was in stove for us. When
it was proposed that we should turn aside from
our path and visit the wigwam of Fire ('hief, one
of the heads of the small communities into which
the tribe is divided, some scruples were express-
ed, for we held that no human being, whether he
was a poet laureate or a poor Indian, liked to have
his privacy invaded from motives of mere curi-
osity. Then we had no presents to offer him as
an excuse.

"No tobacco?" said our good-natured guide,
with a smile. "An Indian never refuses to-
bacco."

The news of our approach to the wigwam was
doubtless conveyed ahead, for we saw some dusky
children scurry away and disappear like rabbits.
The building was a large one ; the base of it be-
ing a circular and substantial wall of mud and
turf apparently about ten feet high ; the conical
roof sloping up from the wall being chiefly com-
posed of the trunks of ti'ees, leaving a hole at the
summit for the escape of smoke. Wo descended
from our vehicles, and, crouching down, pushed
aside the bufiPalo-skin that served for door, and
entered the single and spacious apartment which
contained Fire Chief, his wives, iliildren, and rel-
atives. For a second or two we could scarcely
see any thing, so bUnding was the smoke; but
presently we made out that all round the circular
wigwam, wliich was probably between thirty and
forty ff ot in diameter, was a series of beds, to-
ward which the squaws and cliildrcn had retreat-
ed, white in the middle of the place, seated on a
buffalo-skin in front of the firo, was the chief
himself. He took no notice of our entrance. He
stared into the fire as we seated ourselves on
a bench ; but one or two of the younger women,
from out the dusky recesses, gazed with obvi-
ous wonder on these strange people froiu a dis-
tant land. Fire Chief is a large an<i powerful-
looking man, with a sad and worn face ; obvifsusly
a person of importance, tor he wore an armlet of
silver, and ear-rings of the same material, and iiis
moccasiud of buffalo hid«were vci'y elaborately
embroidered with beads^nd porcupine quills,
while the dignity of his demeanor was quite ap-
palling.

. "Will yo>t take a cigar. Sir?" said the lieu-
tenant, who had vaiiily endeavored to get one of
the children to come near him.

Fire Chief did not answer. He only stared into
the smouldering wood before him. But when the

cigar was presented to him, he took it, and lit it
with a bit of burning stick, resuming his air of
absolute indiffer3nce.

" Does he not speak English ?" said Lady Syl.
via, in an under-tone, to our guide, who had been
conversing with him in his own tongue.

" They don't know much English," said F ,

with a smile, " and what they do know, they don't
care to speak. But he asks me to tell you tl<ut
one of the young men is sick. That is he in the
bed over there. And he says he has not been
very well himself lately."

" Will you tell him," said Lady Sylvia, gently,
"that we have come about five thousand miles
from our homes, and that we are greatly pleased
to see him, and that we hope he and the youug
man will very soon be well again ?"

When this message was conveyed to the chief,
we rose and took our departure, and he took no
more notice of our leaving than our coming.
Shall we say that we felt, on getting outside,
rather " mean ;" that the fact of our being u
pack of inquisitive tourists was rather painful tu
us ; that we meivtally swore we should not " in-
terview" another human being, Indian or i)uet
laureate, during the whole course of our miserable
lives ? Our self-consciousness in this respect was
not at all shared by our good friend from Omaha,
who was driving one of the two vehicles, and wlio
seemed to regard the Indian as a very neculiur
sort of animal, decidedly less than human, but
with his good points all the same. Was it not
he who told us that story about his wife having
been one day alone in her house — many yeai's
ago, .when the early settlers found the Indians
more dangerous neighbors than they are now —
and .engaged in baking, when two or three In-
dians came to the door and asked for bread?
She offered them an old loaf; they would not
have it ; they insisted on having some of the
newly baked bread, and they entered the ho#e to
seize it; whereupon this courageous house-niis-
tress took up her rolling-pin and laid about lier,
driving her enemy forthwith out of the door. But
the sequel of the story has to be told. Those
very Indians, whenever they ciime that way, never
passed the house without bringing her a present
— a bit of veni.-on, some quail, or what not — and
the message tliey presented with the game was
always this: "CraVe squaw! Brav€ squaw!"
which shows that there is virtue in a rolling-pin,
and that heroism, and the recognition of it, did
not die out with the abandonment of chain armor.

We also heard a story which suggests that the
Indian, if an inferior sort of animal, is distinctly
a reasoning one. Some years ago a missionary
arrived in these parts, and was greatly shocked
to fin^ on the first Sunday of his stay tliat these
Indians who had taken to agriculture were bi
ily planting maize. He went out and conjured
them to cease, assuring them that the God whom
he worshiped had commanded people to do nu
work on the Sabbath, and that nothing would
come of their toil if they committed this sin. The
Indians listened gravely, and having staked off
the piece of ground they had already planted, de-
sisted from work. After that they never worked
on Sunday except within this inclosure ; but then
this inclosure got the extra day's hoeing and tend-
ing. When harvest came, behold ! the space that
had been planted and tended on Sunday produced
a far finer crop than any adjacent piirt, and no

; took it, and lit it
esuraing his air of

h?" said Lady Syl-
iiide, wlio had beea
u tongue.

glish," said F ,

lo iiiiow, they don't

[ue to tell you tbut

That is he in the

9 be has not bcca

iady Sylvia, gently,
ive thousand niilua
are greatly pleased
he and the vouug
ain¥"

iveyed to the chief,
re, and he took no
than our con)iii<r.
in getting outside,
ct of our being n
18 rather painful tu
ve should not " in-
ig, Intlian or puet
rse of our miserable
I in this respect was
friend from Omaha,

vehicles, and wiio
as a very peculiar

i than human, but
same. Was it not
mt his wife having
liouse — many yeaia
found the Indians
an they are now —

1 two or three In-
asked for bread?

f; they would not

ving some of the

iterud the ho#c to

•ageous liousL'-niis-

ud laid about licr,

|it of the door. But

be told. Those

jnu' that way, never

^ing her a present

or what not — and

lith the game was

Brav« squaw 1"

Lie in a rolling-pin,

lognition of it, did

^nt of chain armor,

suggests that the

^limul, is distinctly

ago a missionary

greatly shocked

[lis stay that these

(culture were bi

lut and conjured

iat the God whom

people to do no

It nothing would

tted this sin. The

laving staked off

ready planted, de

ley never worked

closure ; but then

hoeing and tend

Id 1 the space that

I Sunday produced

tent part, and no

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

125

doubt the Indians came to their own conclusiona
about the predictions of the missionary. Any-
how, whether the legend be true or not, the Oma-
has retain their original faith.

At length we reached the agency — a small col-
lection of houses scattered about among trees —
and here there were some greater signs of life.
Small groups of Indians, picturesque enough with
their colored blankets and their leggings of buf-
falo hide, stood lounging about, pretending not
to see the strangers, but taking furtive glances
all the same, while now and again a still more
picturesque figure in scarlet pants and with swing-
ing arms would ride by on his pony, no doubt
•bound for his teepee out on the plain. Alas ! the
only welcome we received from any of the In-
dians was accorded us by a tall and bony idiot,
who greeted us with a friendly "How?" and a
grin. We had our horses taken out, we were
hospitably entertained by the agent, a sober and
sedate Quaker, and then we went out for a stroll
round the place, which included an inspection of
the store, the blacksmith's shop, and other means
for assisting the Indians to settle down to a peace-
ful agricultural life.

Our party unanimously came to the opinion —
having conversed to the extent of " How ?" with
one Indian, and that Indian an idiot — that the
preference of the Indians for remaining paupers
on the hands of the government rather than take
to tilling the ground is natural. The Indian, by
tradition and instinct, is a gentleman. Of all the
races of the world, he is the nearest approach one
can get to the good old English squire. He loves
horses ; he gives up his life to hunting and shoot-
ing and fishing; he hasn't a notion in his head
about " boetry and bainting ;" and lie considers
himself the most important person on the face
of the earth. But the Indian is the more astute
of the two. Long ago he evolved the ingenious
theory that as his success in the chase depended
on his nerves being in perfect order, it would
never do for him to attack the ordinary rough
work of existence ; and hence he tp.rned over to
his wife or wives the tPuJIng of the horses, the
building of the teepees., the procuring of fuel —
in fact, all the work that needed any exertion.
This is one point on which the English country
gentleman is at a disadvantage, although we have
heard of one sensible man who invariably let his'
wife fill and screw up his cartridges for him.

And you expect this native gentleman to throw
aside the sport that has been the occupation and
passion of his life, and take to digging with a
shovel lor a dollar a day* How would your
Yorkshire squire like that? He would not do
it at all. He would expect the government that
deprive him of his land to give him a pension,
however inadequate, and the wherewithal to keep
body and soul together. He wouid go lounging
about in an apathetic fashion, trying to get as
much for his money as possible at the govern-
ment stores, smoking a good deal, and being the
reverse of communicative with the impertinent
persons who came a few thousand miles to stare
at him. And if the government stopped his
drink, and would not let him have even a glass
of beer — But this is carrying the parallel to
an impossibility: no existing government could
so far reduce Yorkshire ; there would have been
such an outburst of revolution as the world has
never yet seen.

We set out on our return journey, taking an-
c*her route over the high-lying prairie-land. And
at about the highest point we came to the burial,
mound, or rather burial-house, of White Cow,
When the old chief was dying, he said, " Bury
me on a high place, where I can see the boats of
the white men pass up and down the river."
Was his friendly ghost sitting there, then, in the
warm light of the afternoon, amid the fragrant
scent of the Ma)'-weed ? Anyhow, if White Cow
could see any boats on the Missouri, his spectral
eyes must have been keener than ours, for wc
could not see a sign of any craft whatsoever on
that distant line of silver.

Strangely enough, we had just driven away from
this spot when an object suddenly presented itself
to our startled gaze which might have been White
Cow himself " out for a dauner." A more ghast-
ly spectacle was never seen than this old and
withered Indian — a tall man, almost naked, and
so shrunken and shriveled that every bone in his
body was visible, while the skin of the mummy-
like face had been pulled back from his mouth,
so that he grinned like a spectre. He was stand-
ing apart from the road, quite motionless, and he
carried nothing in his hand ; but all the same,
both our horses at the same moment plunged
aside so as nearly to leave the path, and were not
quieted for some minutes afterward. We forgot

to ask F if he knew this spectre, or whether

it was really White Cow. Certainly horses don't
often shy because of the ghastly appearance of a
human being.

That night we reached Decatur again, and had
some more pelican of the wilderness and prunes.
Then the women went up stairs, doubtless to have
a talk about the promised addition to our part}',
and we went outside to listen to the conversation
(ft the tall, uncouth, unkempt fellows who were
seated on a bench smoking. We he"..d a good
deal about the Indian, and about the attempts to
" civilize" him. From some other things we had
heard out there we had begun to wonder whether
civilization was to be defined as the art of acquire
ing greenbacks without being too particular about
the means. However, it appears that on one point
the Indians have outstripped civilization. The In-
dian women, who had in by-gone years sometimes
to go on long marches with their tribe in time of
war, are said to have discovered a secret which
the fashionable women of Paris would give their
ears to know. But they keep it a profound secret ;
s|U>6i'b^ps >t is only a superstition.

CHAPTER XLVI.

SCHEMES.

Shall we ever forget that sunrise over the vast
plain through which the Missouri runs — the si-
lence, and loneliness, and majesty of it? Far
away — immeasurable leagues away it seemed — a
bar of purple cloud appeared to rest on the earth,
all along the flat horizon, while above that the
broad expanse of sky began to glow with a pale
lemon yellow, the grassy plain below being of a
deep, intense olive green. No object in the dis-
tance was to be descried, except one narrow strip
of forest ; and the trees, just getting above the
belt of purple, showed a serrated line of jet black
on the pale jellow sky. Then a flush of rose-pink

,•:

12«

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

began to All the east, and quite suddenly the wood-
en spire of the small church beside us — the first
object to catch the new light of the dawn — shone
a pale red above the cold green of the cotton-
trees. There was no one abroad at this hour in
the wide streets of Decatur, though we had seen
two Indians pass some little time before, with
shovels over their shoulders. Our object in get-
ting up so early was to try to get over the swamp-
iest part of our journey before the heat of the
day called up a plague of flies from the mud.

One vhing or another, however, delayed our de-
parture, and when at last we got into the swamps,
we were simply enveloped in clouds of mosqui-
toes. If we could only have regarded these from
behind a glass mask, we should have said that
they formed a very beautiful sight, and so have
discovered the spirit of good that lurks in that
most evil thing. For we were in shadow — our
vehicles having a top supported by slender iron
poles arising from the sides — and, looking out
from this shadow, the still air seemed tilled with
millions upon millions of luminous and transpar-
ent golden particles. Occasionally we got up on
a higher bit of ground, and could send the horses
forward, the current thus produced relieving us
from these clouds ; but ordinarily our slow plun-
ging through the mire left us an easy prey to
these insatiable myriads. Indeed, there were
more mosquitoes within our vehicle — if that were
possible — than in the same space without; for
these creatures prefer to get into the shade when
the blaze of the sun is fierce, though they do not
show themselves grateful to those who afford it.
The roof of our palankeen-phaeton was of blue
cloth when we started. Before we had been gone
an hour, it was gray; there was not any where
the size of a pea visible of the blue cloUi. But
this temporary retirement of a few millions in no
wise seemed to diminish the numbers of those
who were around us in the air. At last even the
patience of the lieutenant broke down.

" Lady Sylvia," said he, " I have now discover-
ed why there is so much bad language iu Amer-
ica. If ever we go up the Missouri again, you
ladies must go in one carriage by yourselves, and
we in another carriage; for the frightful thing
is that we can not say what we think" — and here
he slapped his cheek again, and slew another half
dozen of his enemies.

" But why not speak ?" his wife said.

'"It was an ancient privilege, iny lords.

To fling wliate'er we felt, not fuarlng, into wordsJtf

Lady Sylvia was supposed to say something;
but as she had tied a handkerchief tightly round
her face, we could not quite make out what it was.

He continued to complain. We had delayed
our return to Decatur on the previous day so that
we should avoid driving on to Tekamah in the
evening, when the plague is worse: he declared
it could not be worse. He even complained that
we had not suffered in this fashion a couple of
days before, in driving over the same ground,
forgetting that then we had a fresh and pleasant
breeze. And we were soon to discover what a
breeze could do. Our friendly guide and driver
suddenly plunged his horses off the path hito a
thicket of tall reeds. We thought we should
have been eaten up alive at this point. But pres-
ently we got through this wilderness, and began
to ascend a slope leading up to the bluffs. Was

there not a scent of cooler air? We clambered
higher and higiier; we got among our old friends,
the sunflowers and Micha^mas daisies; and at
last, when we emerged on to the sun-lit and gold.
en plain, the cool breeze, fragrant with May-weed,
came sweeping along and through our vehicle,
and behold ! we were delivered from our ene-
mies. We waxed valiant. We attacked their
last stronghold on the roof; we flicked off these '
gray millions, and they, too, flew away and disap-
peared. We sent a victorious halloa to the vehi-
cle behind us, which was joyfully answered. We
fell in love with the " rolling" prairies, and their
beautiful flowers and fresh breezes.

But the cup of human happiness is always
dashed with some bitterness or another. We
began to think about that vast and grassy swamp
from which we had emerged. Was not that, in
effect, part of the very Mississippi Valley about
which such splendid prophecies have been made?
Our good friends out here, though they made light
of their river by calling it the Big Muddy, never-
theless declared that it was the parent of the Mis-
sissippi, and that the Mii^sissippi should be called
the Missouri from St. Louis right down to New
Orleans. Had we, then, just struggled upward
from one branch of the great basin which is to
contain the future civilization of the world ? We
had been assured by an eminent (American) au-
thority that nothing cuuld " prevent the Missis-
sippi Valley from becominsr, iu less than three
generations, the centre of human power." It
was with pain and anguish that we now recalled
these prophetic words. Our hearts grew heavy
when we thought of our children's children. ye
future denizens of Alligator City, do not think that
your forefathers have not also suffered in getting
through these mud flats on an August day !

At length we got back to Tekamah and its
conspicuous tree, which latter, it is said, has done
the state some good service in former days. We
were much too early for the train, and so we had
luncheon in the block-house inn (the lieutenant
in vain offering a dollar for v. single bottle of
beer), and then went out to sit on a bench and
watch the winged beetles that hot'ered in the
sunshine and then darted about in a spasmodic
fashion. That was all the amusement we could
find in Tekamah. But they say that a newspaper
exists there; and if only the government would
open up a road to the Black Hills by way of the
Elkhorn Valley, Tekamah might suddeidy arise
and flourish. In the end, we left the darting
beetles and drove to the station. Here we saw
two or three gang."* of " civilized" Indians, digging
for the railway company. Wlietlier Pawnees,
Omahas, or Winnebagoes, they were, in their tat-
tered shirt and trousers, not an attractive-looking
lot of people, whereas the gentlemen-paupers of
the reservations have at least the advantage of
being picturesque in appearance. There were a
few teepees on the slopes above, with some wom-
en and children. The whole very closely resem-
bled a gypsy encampment.

And then in due course of time we made our
way back to Omaha, the capital of the Plains,
the future Chicago of the West, and we were once
more jolted over the unmade roads and streets,
which had now got dry and hard. And what was
this ? — another telegram ?

Lady Sylvia took it calmly, and opened it with
an air of pride.

fer

her

hai

to i

ren

Th<

j am

i and

grai

the

not!

well

ouri

out (

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

f We clambered
ng our old friends,
IS daisies; and at
le sun-lit and gold-
int with May- weed,
■ough our vehiule,
ed from our ene-
Ve attacked their
re flieked otf these
w away and disap-
halloa to the vehi-
lly answered. We
prairies, and their
lezes.

ppiness ia always
or another. We
and grassy swamp
Was not that, in
sippi Valley about
* have been made?
igh they made light
Big Muddy, never-
I parent of the Mis-
pi should be called
ight down to New
struggled upward
basin which is to
oi the world ? We
snt (American) au-
trevcKt the Miasis-
in less than three
uman power." It
at we now recalled
hearts grew heavy
sn's children. ye
y, do not think that
suffered in getting
August day !
Tekaniah and its
it is said, iius done
former days. We
ain, and so we had
nn (the lieuteuant
single bottle of
on a bench and
t hot'ered in the
t in a spasmodic
usement we could
that a newspaper
;overiiment would
lis by way of the
|ht suddenly arise
left the darting
n. Here we saw
' Indians, digging
hether Pawnees,
were, in their tat-
attractive- looking
ilemen-paiipers of
,he advantage of
le. There were a
, with some wom-
ry closely reaem-

we made our

al of the Plains,

I we were once

nds and streets.

And what was

Ld opened it with

" I thought Bo," she said, with assumed indif-
ference; and there was a certain superiority in
her manner, almost bordering on triumph, as she
handed the telegram to her friend. She seemed
to say, " Of course it is quite an ordinary occur-
rence for my husband to send me a telegram.
There, you may all See on what terras we are. I
am not a bit rejoiced that he has actually sailed
' and on his way to join us."

The word was passed round. Balfour's tele-
gram was from Queenstown, giving the name of
the vessel by which he bad sailed. There was
nothing for her to be proud of in that ; she did
well to assume indifference.

But when, that evening, we were talking about
our further plans, she suddenly begged to be left
out of the discussion.

" I mean to remain here until my husband ar-
rives," said she.

" In Omaha !" we all cried. But there was re-
ally no disparagement implied in this ejaculation,
for it must be acknowledged that Omaha, after
its first reception of us, had treated us with the
greatest kindness.

" He can not be here for a fortnight at least,"
it is pointed out to her. " We could in that time
go on to Idaho and be back here to meet him, if
he does not wish, like the rest of us, to have a
look at the Rocky Mountains."

" I can not tell what his wishes may be," said
the young wife, thoughtfully, "and there is no
means of explaining to him where to find us if
we move from here."

"There is every means," it is again pointed
out. " All you have to do is to address a letter
to the New York office of the lino, and it will be
given to him even before he lands."

This notion of sending a letter seemed to give
her great delight. She spent the whole of the
rest of the evening in her own room. No human
being but him to whom they were aiidrcssed ever
knew what were the outpourings of her soul on
that occasion. Later on, she cume in to bid us
good-night. She looked very happy, but her eyes
were red.

Then two members of our small party went out
into the cool night air to smoke a cigar. The
broad streets of Omaha were dark and deserted ;
there were no roisterers going home, no lights
showing that the gambling-houses were still open.
The place was as quiet as a Surrey village on a
Sunday morning when every body is at church.

" 1 have been thinking," says one of them ;
and this is a startling statement, for he is not
much given that way. "And what these ladies
talk about Balfour doing when he comes out here
— oh, that is all stuff, that is all folly and non-
sense. It is romantic — oh yes, it ia very fine to
think of; and for an ordinary poor man it is a
great thing to have one hundred and sixty acres
of freehold land — and very good land — from the
government; and if he knows any thing about
farming, and if he and his family will work, that
is very well. But it is only romantic folly to talk
about that and Balfour together. His wLfe — it is
very weli for her to be brave, and say this thing,
and that thing ; but it is folly : they can not do
that. Thbt is the nonsense a great many people
in England think — that, when they have failed
at every thing, they can farm. Oh yes ; I would
like to see Lady Sylvia help to build a house, or
to milk a cow even. But the other thing, that ia

a little more sensible. They say the railway has
beautiful grazing land — beautiful grazing land —
that you can buy for a pound or *hirty shillings
an acre ; and a man might have a large freehold
estate for litMe. But the little is something ; and
there is the cost of the stock, and the taxes ; and
if Balfour had enough money for all that, how do
you know that h<^ will be able to make his for-
tune by stock-ra' ing?"

" I don't know any thing about it."

"No," said the lieutenant, with decision ; "these
things are only romantic folly. It is good for a
laboring-man who has a little money to have a
homestead from the government, and work away ;
and it is good for a farmer who knows about cat-
tle to buy acres from the railway, and invest his
money in cattle, and look after them. As for
Balfour and his wife — "

A semicircular streak of fire in the darkness,
a wave of the hand indicated by the glowing end
of the cigar, showed how the lieutenant disposed
of that suggestion.

" Do you think," said he, after a time — " you
have known Um longer than I have — do you
think he is a proud man ?"

" As regards his taking to some occupation or
other?"

" Yes."

" He will have to put his pride in his pocket.
He is a reasonable man."

" There was one thing that my wife and I talk-
ed of last night," said the lieutenant, with a little
hesitation; "but I am afraid to speak it, for it
might be — impertinent. Still, to you I will speak
it ; you will say no more if you do not approve.
You know, at the end of one year, my wife and
I we find»ourselves with all this large property
on our hands. Then we have to decide what to
do with it."

" Sell every stick and stone of it, and take the
proceeds back with you to England. You can
not manage such a property five thousand miles
away. Bell's uncle, mind you, trusted to nobody ;
he was his own overseer and manager, and a pre-
cious strict one, if all accounts be true. You
carry that money back to England, buy a castle
in the Highlands, and an immense shooting, and
ask me each August to look in on you about the
12th. That is what a sensible man would do."

" But wait a bit, my friend. This is what my
wife says — yes, it is her notion ; but she is very
fearful not to offend. She says if this property
ia going on paying so well, and increasing every
year, would it not be better for us to give some
one a good salary co remain there and manage it
for us ? Do you see now ? Do ycu see ?"

" And that was your wife's notion ? Well, it is
a confoundedly clever one ; but it was her abound-
ing good nature that led her to it. Unfortunate-
ly there is a serious drawback. You propose to
offer this post to Balfour."

" Gott bewahre !" exclaimed the lieutenant, al-
most angrily, for he was indeed "fearful not to
offend;" "I only say to you what is a notion —
ViTui my wife and I were speaking about. I
wu Id not have it mentioned for worlds, until, at
lean, 1 knew something about —about — "

'About the light in which Balfour would re-
gard the offer. Unless he is an ass, which I don't
believe, he would jump at it But there is the
one objection, as I say : Balfour probably knows
as much about the raiaing of cattle aa he knows

128

GREEN PASrURES AND PICCADILLY.

about mining — which is nothing at all. And you
propose to put all the.st> things into his hands V"
" My good friend," said the lieutenant, " ho is
a ninn ; tie has eyes ; lie is a good horseman ; lie
can learn. When he comes out here, let him
stay with us. He has a year to learn. And do
you suppose that Bell's unvlc he himself looked
after the cattle, and drove them this way and
that, and sold them ? No, no ; no more than he
went down into the mines and watched them at
the work. If Balfour will do this — and it is only
a notion yet — he will have to keep the accounts,
and he will judj^o by the results what is going
on right. And so we too. If it docs not answer,
we can sell. I think he is a patient, "teady man,
who has resolution. And if he is too proud, if
he is offended, we could mnkc it an interest rather
than salary — a purcem a>;e on the year's pri '.ts — "
" Well, if you ask me what I think of it, I con-
sider that lie is very lucky to have such a chance
offered. He will live in the healthiest and most
delightful clinialu in the world ; he and his wife,
who are both excessively fond of riding, will pass
their lives on horseback ; he may make some
money; and then he will be able to come up here
and go in for a little speculation in real estate,
just by way of umusenicnt. But, my dear young
friend, allow me to point out that when you talk
of the women's schcines as romantic, and of your
wife's and yours as a matter of business, you try
to .throw dust into the eyes of innocent folks.
You arc cont''m|))ating at present what is simply
a m:igiiincent act of charily."

"•Then," said he, with real vexation, "it is all
over. No, we will make him no such offer unless
it is a matter of business ; he will oul v resent it
if it is a kindness."

"And are there many people, then, who are
in such a wild rage to resent kindness V Where
should we nil be but for forbearance, and forgive-
ness, and charity? Is he a god, that he is supe-
rior to such things *"

" You know him better than I do," iS the
gloomy response.

But the lieutenant, as we walked back to the
hotel, was rather displeased that his proposal was
not looked upon as a bit of smart commercial
calculation.

CHAPTER XLVII.

the: p;.ains.

And here also, as at Chicago, the demon of
speculation was nearly getting the better of our
small and not by any means wealthy party. It
was a terrible temptation to hear of all those
beautiful grazing-lands close by in the Platte Val-
ley, the freehold of which was to be purchased
for a song. The fact is, things were rather bad
at Omaha while we were there; and although
every body tried to hang on to his real estate in
hopes of better times, still the assessments press-
ed hard, ond one could have very eligible " lots"
at very small prices. No doubt there were omi-
nous rumors about. We heard something, as we
went further west, about county commissioners,
elected by the homesteaders and pre-emptors who
are free from taxation, going rather wild in the
way of building roads, schools, and bridges at the
cost of the mere speculators. It was said that
these very uon-residcut speculators, whose ranks

we had been terjpted to join, were the curse of
the country, and that all laws passed to tax
them, and to relieve the real ix-sidents, were just.
Very well ; but what was that other statement
about the arrears of taxes owing by these unhap-
py wretches* Was it fair of the government of
any 8tate or any country in the world to sell such
debts by auction, and give the buyer the right of
extorting fortj per cent, per annum until the tax-
es were paid ? We regarded our friends. Wo
hinted that this statement was a capital credu-
lometer. The faith that can accept it is capable
of any thing.

These profound researches into the condition
of public affairs in Omaha, during the further
day or two we lingered there, were partly owing
to vague dreams of the pleasure of proprietor
ship, but no doubt they were partly due to the
notion that had got into the heads of one or two
of our party that the idyllic life of a shepherd
in the Platte VuUcy must be a very fine thing.
The lieutenant conibnted this notion fiercely, anil
begged Lady Sylvia to wait until she had seen
the harshness of life even amid the comparative
luxury of a well-nppointcd ranch. Lady Sylvia
retorted gently that we had no further knowl-
edge of life at a ranch than herself; that she
had attentively listened to all that had been said
about the subject by our friends in Omaha ; that
harshness of living was a relative thing; and
that she had no doubt Bell and her husband
would soon get used to it, and would not com-
plain.

" Oh no, she will not complain," said he, light-
ly; " She is very reasonable — she is very sensi-
ble. She will never be reconciled to the place
while her children are away, and she will have a
great deal of crying by herself ; but she will not
complain."

"Nor would any woman," said Lady Sylvia,
boldly. " She is acting rightly ; she is doing her
duty. I think that women are far more capable
of giving up luxuries they have been accustomed
to than men are."

This set the lieutenant thinking. On the morn-
ing on which we left Omaha, he came aside, and
said,

" I, too, have written a letter to Mr. Balfour.
Shall I post it ?"

"What is in It?"

" The proposal I told you of the other night,
but very — very — what do you call it? — rounda-
bout, i have „aid perhaps he is only coming out
to take his wife home sooner than you go: that
is well. I have said perhaps he is waiting until
the firm starts again ; if that is any use, when
they must have been losing for years. Again,
that is well. But I have said perhaps he is com-
ing to look how to start a business — an occupa-
tion ; if that is so, will he stay with us a year? —
see if he understands — then he will take the
management, and have a yearly percentage. I
have said it is only a passing thought ; but we
will ask Lady Sylvia to stay with us at Idaho un-
til we hear from him. He can telegraph from
New York. He will tell. her to remain until he
comes, or to meet him somewhere; I will get
some one to accompanv her. What do you say ?"

" Post the letter."

" It will be very pleasant for us," said he, in a
second or so, as he rubbed his hands in an ex-
cited fashion, " to have tbem out for our neigb-

xrere th# curso of
ws passed to tax
csidcnts, were jiist.
ttt other statoiiieiit
ng by these unhap-
tho goveinment of
e world to sell such

buyer the right of
nnum until the tax-
1 our friends. Wo
as a capital credu-
iccept it is capable

into the condition
iuring the further

were partly owing
sure of proprietor-

partly due to the
leads of one or two
life of a shepherd
) a very fine thinj;.
notion fiercely, ami
until she hud seen
lid the comparative
inch. Lady Sylvia

no further knowl-
\ herself; that she

tliat had been said
ids in Omaha ; that
•dative thing; and
I and her husband
lid would not corn-
lain," said he, light-
— she is very sensi-
nciled to the place
and she will have a
If ; but she will not

said Lady Sylvia,
ly ; she is doing her
•e far more capable
'e been accustomed

:ing. On the morn-
Ihe came aside, and

Iter to Mr. Balfour.

of the other night,

call it? — rounda-
I is only coming out
Ithan you go: that
|he is waiting until

is any use, when
(for years. Again,
Iperhaps he is com-
piness — an occupa-
I with us a year ? —

he will take the
|rly percentage. I

thought ; but wo
Jth us at Idaho un-

»n telegraph from
remain until he
|where; I will get

That do you say V"

• us," said he, in a
ks hands in an ex-
out for our neigb-

GREEN PASTURES AND FIGOADILLT.

bort for « year at the leasi-^t will be pleuant
for Bell — ^how can she eet any one in Denrer or
Idaho to know all about ner children and Surrey ?
My dear friend, if you have any sense, you will
itay with us too. I will show you bears."

He spoke as if he weru already owner of the
Rocky Mountains.

"And we will go down to Kansas — a great par-
\j, with covered wagons, and picnics, and much
unusement — for a buffalo hunt. And then t )
will go up to the Parks in the middlo of the
mountains — what it is, is this, I tell you : if our
Itay here is compulsive, we will roako it as amus-
ing as possible, you will see, if only you will stay
the year too."

A sigh was the answer.

And now, as we again set out on our jour-
ney westward, the beautiful prairie-country seem-
ed more beautiful than ever; and we caught
glimpses of the fertile valley of the Platte, in
which our imaginary freehold estates lay await-
ing us. On and on we went, with the never-
ending undulations of grass and flowers glowing
til around us in the sunlight ; the world below
I plain of gold, the world above a vault of the
palest blue. The space and light and color were
altogether most cheerful ; and as the train went
tt a very gentle trot along the single line, we sat
outside, for the most part, in the cool breeze.
Occasionally we passed a small hamlet, and that
had invariably an oddly extemporized look. The
wooden houses were stuck down anyhow on the
grassy plain ; without any trace of the old-fash-
ioned orchards, and walled gardens and hedges
that bind, as it were, an English village together.
Here there was but the satisfaction of the most
immediate needs. One wooden building labeled
" Drug Store," another wooden building labeled
" Grocery Store," and a blacksmith's shop, were
ordinarily the chief features of the community.
All day we passed in this quiet gliding onward ;
and when the sun began to sink toward the hori-
zon, we found ourselves in the midst of a grassy
plain, apparently quite uninhabited and of bound-
less extent. As the western sky deepened in its
gold and green, and ns the sun actually touched
the horizon, the level light hit across this vast
plain in long shafts of dull fire, just catching the
tops of the taller rushes near us, and touching
eome distant sandy slopes into a pale crimson.
Lower and lower the sun sunk, until it seemed
to eat a bit out of the horizon, so blinding was
the light ; while far above, in a sea of luminous
green, lay one long narrow cloud, an island of
blood-red.

In a second, when ohe sun sunk, the world seem-
ed to grow quite dark. All around us the prai-
rie-land had become of a cold, heavy opaque
green, and the only objects which our bewilder-
ed eyes could distinguish were some pnle- white
lowers — like the tufts of canna on a Scotch
moor. But presently, and to our intense sur-
prise, the world seemed to leap up again into
light and color. This after -glow was most ex-
traordinary. The immeasurable plains of grass be-
e&me suffused with a ricli olive-green ; the west-
em sky was all a radiance of lemon-yellow and
lilvery gray ; while along the eastern horizon —
the most inexplicable thing of all — them stretch-
ed a great band pf smoke-like purple mA pink.
We soon became familiar with this phenomenon
oat in Um West— this appearance of a vast range
I

of roseate Alps along the eastern horiioD, where
there was neither mountain nor cloud. It was
merely the shadow of t'Ma earth, projected by the
sunken sun into the earth's atmosphere. But
it was an unforgettable thing, this mystic belt of
color, far away in the east, over the dark earth,,
and under the pale and neutral hues of the sky.

The interior of a Pullman sleeping-car, after
the stalwart colored gentleman has lowered the
shelves and made the beds and drawn the cur-
tains, presents a strange sight. The great folds
of the dusky curtains, in the dim light of a lamp,
move in a mysterious manner, showing the con-
tortions of the human bei.igs within who are try-
ing to dispossess themselves of their garments ;
while occasionally a foot Is shot into the outer
air so that the owner can rid himself of his boot.
But within these gloomy recesses there is suffi-
cient comfort ; and he who is wakeful can lie and
look out on the gathering stars as they begin to
come out over the dark prairie-land. All through
the night this huge snake, with its eyes of yellow
fire, creeps across the endless plain. If you wake
up before the dawn and look out, behold 1 the old
familiar conditions of the world are gone, and the
Plough is standing on its head. But still more
wonderful is the later awakening ; when the yel-
low sunlight of the morning is shining over the
prairies, and when within this long caravan there
is a confused shuffling and dressing, every body
wanting to get outside to get a breath of the
fresh air. And what is this we find around ua
n^ .V ? The vast plain of grass is beautiful in the
early light, no doubt ; but our attention is quick-
ened by the sight of a diove of antelope which
trot lightly and carelessly away toward some low
and sandy bluffs in the distance. That solitary
object out there seems at first to be a huge vul-
ture ; but by-and-by it turns out to be a prairie-
wolf — a coyote, — sitting on its hind legs and
chewing at a bone. The chicken-hawk lifts its
heavy wings as we go by, and flies across the
plain. And here are the merry and familiar lit-
tle prairie-dogs — half rabbit and half squirrel —
that look at ua each from his little hillock of
sand, and then pop into their hole only to re-ap-
pear again when we have passed. Now the long
swathes of green and yellow -brown are broken
by a few ridges of gray rock ; and these, in some
places, have patches of orange -red lichen that
tell against the pale -blue sky. It is a clear,
bea .tiful morning. Even those who have not
slept well through the slow rumbling of the night
soon get freshened up on these high, cool plains.

At Sydney we suddenly came upon an oasis of
brisk and busy life in this immeasurable desert
of grass ; and of course it was with an eager cu-
riosity that we looked at these first indications of
the probable life of our friend the ranch-woman.
For here were immense herds of cattle brought
in from the plains, and large pens and inclosures,
and the picturesque herders, with their big boots
and broad-rimmed hats, spurring about on their
small and wiry horses.

"Shall you dress in buckskin?" lisked Lady
Sylvia of our lieutenant ; " and will you flourish
about one of those long whips ?"

" Oh no," said he ; "I understand my business
w>'.l ue a very tame one — all at a desk."

" Until we can get some trustworthy person to
take the whole management," said Bell, gently,
and looking down.

QBEIN FASTUREB AND PICXJADnLT.

" Whftt handfloiae felloira thqr are 1" the Ueu-
teauit cried. " It is » hesltliy life. Looli at the
keen btown fkoes, the flat bacic, the aqoare ihouU
delta ; and not a bit of fat on them. I should
like to command a regiment of those fellows.
F«nc7 vbat cavalry they would make — light,
wiiT, splendid riders — you could do something
with a regiment of those fellows, I think I Lady
Sylvia, did I ever tell you what two of my com-
pany — ^the dare-devils 1— did at 1"

Lady Sylvia had never heard that legend of
1870; but she listened to it now with a proud
and eager interest ; for she had never forsaken,
even at the solicitation of her husband, her cham-
pionship of the Germans.

"I will write a balhtd about it some day," said
the lieutenant, with a laugh. "*£s ritt' zwei
Uhlanen wohl uber den Rhein — * *'

" Tes I" said Lady Sylvia, with a flash of color
leaping to her face, " it vaa well over the Rhine
— it was indeed well over the Rhine that they
and their companions got before th^ thought of
going home again I"

" Ah, yes," said he, humbly, " but it is only the
old seesaw. To-day it is Paris, to-morrow it is
Berlin, that is taken. The only thing is that this
time I tiiink we have secured a longer interval
than usual ; the great fortresses we have taken
will keep us secure for many a day to come ; our
garrisons are armies ; they can not l>e surprised
by treachery ; and so long as we have the for-
tresses, we need not fear any invasion—"

" But you took them by force : why should not
the French take them back by force?" his wife
said.

" I think, we should not l>e likely to have that
ch ince again," said h' ■ " the French will take
care not to fail into tnat condition again. But
we are now safe, and for a long time, because we
have their great fortresses, and then our own line
of the Rhine fortresses as W' >i. It is the double
gate to our house; and we have looked ail the
locks, and bolted all the bars. And yet we are
not going to sleep."

We were again out on the wide and tenantless
plains, and Bell was looking with great curiosit}
at the sort of land in which she was to find her
home ; for over there on the left the long undu-
lations disappeared away into Colorado. And'
though these yellow and gray-green plains were
cheerful enough in the sunshine, still they were
very lonely. No trace of any living thing was
visluie — not even an antelope, or the familiar lit-
tle prairie-dog. Far as the eye could reach on
this high-lying plateau, there was nothing but the
tufts of withered-looking buffalo-grass, with here
and there a bleached skull, or the ribs of a skele-
ton breaking the monotony of the expanse. The
lieutenant, who was watching the rueful expres-
sion of his wife's face, burst out laughing.

"You will have ell>ow-room out here, eh?"
said he. "You will not crowd your neighlwrs
off the pavement."

"I suppose we shall have no neighbor) at all,"
said she.

" But at Idaho you will have plenty," said he ;
" it is a great place of fashion, I am told. It is
even more fashionable than Denver. Ah, Lady
Sylvia, we will show you something now. You
have lived too muoh out of the world, in that

Siuiet place in Surrey. Now we will wow you
ashion, life, gayety t"

but si

" Is it bbwIe-knivM or pistols that the gentle,
men mostly use in Denver f " asked lAdy ^ylvi%
who did not like to bear her native Surrey d»
spised.

"Bowie-knives! pistols I" exclaimed the lien*
tenant, with some indignation. " When they fight
a duel now, it is with tubes of rose-water. When
they use dice, it is to say which of them will go
away as missionaries to Africa — oh, it is quUs
true— I have heard many thhigs of the reforms,
tion of Denver. The shiging- saloons, they are
all chapels now. All the people meet once in ths
forenoon and once in the afternoon to hear an
exposition of one of Shakspeare's plays, and ths
rich people, they have all sent their money away
to be spent on blue china. All the boys are
studying to become bishop" — "

He suddenly ceased his nousense, and grasped
his wife's arm. Some object outside had caught
his attention. She instantly turned to the win-
dow, as we all did ; and there^ at the distant ho-
rizon, we perceived a pale transparent line of
blue. You may be sure we were not long insids p,,.;^"
tLe carriage after that The delight of finding ^""'"
somethmg to break the monotony of the plains
was boundless. We clung to the iron tiarrier
outside, and craned our necks this way and that,
so that we could see from farthest north to far-
thest south the shadowy, serrated range of the
Rocky Mountains. The blue of them appeared
to be about as translucent as the silvery light in
which they stood; we could but vaguely make
out the snow -peaks in that long serrated line;
they were as a bar of cloud along the horizoa
And yet we could not help resting our eyes on
them with a great relief and interest, as we press-

lits of
[ombu
"No
omen-
nce of
hen y(
"Ib<
enant,
only I
"I d(
lorts, ca
eir ha

ed on to Cheyenne, at which point we were to ,ji„kjk?^
break our journey and turn to the south. It w ii i^. ^

al>out midday when we reached that city, which l 7.

was a famous place during the construction of the r^^' .

Urdon Pacific Railway, and which has even now '' .^ •

some claim to distinction. It is with a pardoDi ihoro„li,

able pride that its inhabitants repeat the naiM .j.^ .A

it t' m acquiied, and all right to which it has bf TV^^u^

ro means abnodoned. The style and title is ,l.„. .^

question is " Hell on Wheels." ^i^

Hitward
HeUon
rere rati
be litl
)ut brisli
!he rumc
lills woi
Inuny

CHAPTER XLVm.

'BBLI. on WBBILS.

Wk step out from the excellent little ndlway-
hotel, in which we have taken up our quarters, oiK , , -
to the broad platform, and into the warm lighC,t .Ifh
of the afternoon.

" Bell," says odr gent'e Queen T , lookiBj ^ J®""

mpart of th

rather wistfully along the pale rampart

Rocky Mounttuns, " these are the walls of yi

future home. Will you go up to the top <«

evening and wave a handk .. chief to us T i

we will try to answer you from Mickleham Downa^^. ,

" On Christmas-night we will send you man ^ ^„j?^
a message," said Bell, looking down. . ^

"And my husband and myself," said I*d] ^f^T
Sylvia, quite sunply, " you will let us join in thi ,1^^^^

tOOw

" But do you expect to be out here till Chriil ''^ "°^

mas ?" said Bell, with well-affected surprise. , ^ „

I " I don't thhik my husband would oome ft '^^,; ^l

I Amerioa," said Lady SylvU. in the most matt* ^^^

tut with

ould rel
le delig
hiskey.
lory, wh
it — wa

oil that the |entl»
uked lAij Sylvii^
r natire Surrey dfr

exclaimed the lieu.

. "When they fight

rose-water. When

ioh of them will go

ioa — oh. it is quiie

nga of the reforma-

g- saloons, they are

pie meet once in the

(temoon to hear an

iare'a plays, and the

It their money away

All the boys are
_it

usense, and grasped
, outside had caught
r turned to the win-
e, at the distant h»
transparent line of

obum pastubeb asd picoadillt.

Ill

of.fkot w^, ** «ft«r what hu happtntd, ualaM
ke meant to stay."

" Ob, if you oould only be near us I*' eried Bell ;
but she dured not say more.

*'That would be very pleasant," Lady Sylvia
inswered, with a smile ; " but of course I don't
know what my husband's plans are. We shall
know our way more dearly when he comes to
Idi^o. It will seem so strange to sit down and
ihape one's "fe anew; but I suppose a good

isny people have got to do that"

By this time the lieutenant had secured a car-
riage which was standing at the end of the plat-
ionn, along with a pony for himself.

" Now, Mrs. Von Kcsen," said he, " air you
tesdy f Guess you've come up from the ranch
to have a frolic i Got your dollars ready for the
pmbling-saloons f"

"And if I have," said she, boldly, "they are

icensed by the government Why should I not

itnuse myself in these places f "

- . , , . , " Madame," replied her husband, sternly, " the

"^^^ifk* »W P""ta° nation into which you have married per-

le delight of finding
lotony of the plaini
to the iron barrier
s this way and that,
trtbest north to far

nits of no such vices. Cheyenne must follow
lomburg, Wiesbaden, Baden-Baden — "
" No doubt," said the sharper-tongued of our
romen-follc, who invariably comes to the assist-
^ . , ., tnce of her friend — " no doubt that will follow

rrated range of th« ^^^^ i^,„g emperor has annexed the State."

e of them appeared ., j ^ ^^^on madame," says the lieu-

s the silvery bghtm ^ ^ jj^^, .. ^^t Wyoming is not a State ; it

but vaguely make ,„„,'j;"Territory"
t long flerrated line; ..j ^^^.^ gupp^ge it would matter," she rc-

d along the honzoa ^^s, carelessly, " if the Hohen7X)llern8 could get

resting our eyes on j,gjy jj^^g ^^ ■^^ g„yhow. But never mind.

interest, as we press- j^^^^ ^^ 3^1, ^^^j ^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^y^^^ ^^ ^,f

h pomt we were to uighbors you are likely to have."

?A !»f ♦ •; V s 'f*»ey wei-e no Houbt rather rough-Ioolcing fel-

bed that city, wmci ^^g^ jjj^^g^ gentlemen who lounged about the

construction of thjjjj^^^ of tl»e drinking- saloons; but there were

lirbich has «^e°_^ow j^^^ picturesque figures visible in the open

IS witn ^ PA">^ horoughfares riding along on stalwart little po-

its «pe*' .?*i,°?tJ lies, the horsemen bronzed of face, clad mostly

i to wwcn « nas Vf j^ buckskin, and with a go<Mi deal of ornament

rtyle ano UUe la ,bout their saddle and stirrups. As for Chey-

mne itself, there was certainly nothing about its

lutward appearance to entitle any one to call it

Heil on Wheels." Its flat rectangular streets

ere rather dismal in appearance ; ihere seemed

be little doing even in the drinking-saloons.

iut brisker times, we were assured, were at hand.

s B L 8 ." [be rumors about the gold to be had in the Black

iills would draw to this point the adventurers

illent Uttle railway

i many lands, as free with their money as with

to th' ^S^hf"' •angiage- Here they would fit themselves
ito tne warm ug ^^ ^.^j^ ^j^^ wagons and weapons necessary for

n , loiAin ''* Joi^cy "P *o ^^^ Black Hills ; here they

^^ J».^rf!i, '<>"W return — the ^oux permitting — to revel in

th'*"'?ta of VM ''® "^•'g»»*» of •'eno, and poker, and Bourbon

* th ton i« m '^^^^y- Cheyenne would return to its pristine

"hif to m f An K"^' **'®"' *''* — "* '""^ ** ^°^ *'°"''^ ^^^^ °"

JT' ti V n/»amBi " '* — ''"^ a brisk and exciting business. Oer-

tioklebamuoTO* ^^^ ^^ Cheyenne we saw was far from being

lU sena you maq ^ exciting place. It was in vain that we im-

' i7»i a-ia Tadi ^^^ ^^ ^" *° '*®P *''""* *'*'* bowie - knife

'^^ < J- J- liJ Mnebody, or do something to let us understand

let U8 join mwi ,|^^ cheyenne was in happier times. There

. ^.| ftt.ji^ «s not a single corpse lying at any of the sa-

rfa» »n- doors, nor any duel being fought in any

^ '".y^. t (reet The glory had departed.

\^ Z^ itl But when we got away from these few chief

tbe noM ««»t««ilt<,roughfares, and got to the outakirU of Chey-

enne^ we were once more forcibly reminded of
our native land; for a better repreaentation of
Epsom Downs on the morning after tbe Oerby>
day could not be found any where, always with
the difference that here the land is flat and arid.
The odd fashion in which these wooden shanties
and sheds, with some private houses here and
there, are dotted down anyhow on the plain —
their temporary look, the big advertisements, the
desolate and homeless appearance of the whole
place — all served to recall that dismal scene that
is spread around the grand-stand when the rev-
elers have all returred to town. By-and-by, bow-
ever, the last of these habitations disappeared,
and we found ourselves out on a flat and sandy
plain, that was taking a warm tinge from the
gathering color in the west. The Rocky Mount-
ains were growing a bit darker in hue now ; and
that gave them a certain g.andeur of aspect, dis-
tant as they were. But what was this strange
thing ahead of us, far out on the plain? A
cloud of dust rises into tbe golden air ; we can
hear the faint foot-falls of distant horses. The
cloud comes nearer ; the noise deepens. Now it
is the thunder of t. troop of men on horseback
galloping down upon us as if to sweep us from
the road.

" Forward, scout 1" cried Bell, who had been
getting up her Indian lore, to her husband on
the pony; "hold up your right hand and motion
them back ; if they are friendly, they will retire.
Tell them the Great Father of the white men ia
well disposed toward his red children — "

" — And wouldn't cheat them out of a dollar
even if he could get a ♦'■ird term of office by it"

But by this time the enemy had borne down
upon us with such swiftness that he had gone
right bv before we could quite make out who he
was. Indeed, amidst such dust the smartest cav-
alry - uniforms in the United States army must
soon resemble a digger's suit

We pushed on across the plain, and soon
reached the point which these impetuous riders
had just left — Fort Russell. Tbe lieutenant was
rather anxious to see what style of fortification
the United States Government adopted to guard
against any possible raid on the part of the In-
dians exasperated by the encroachments of the
miners among the Black Hills; and so we all
got down and entered Fort Russell, and had a
pleasant walk round in the cool evening air.
We greatly admired the pretty little houses built
for the quarters of the married officera, and we
appreciated the efforts made to get a few cotton-
wood trees to grow on this arid soil ; but as for
fortifications, there was not so much as a bit of
red tape surrouudiiig the inclosure. Our good
friend who had conducted us hither only laughed
when the lieutenant expressed his surprise.

" The Indians would as soon think of invading
Washington as coming down here," said he.

" But they have come before," observed tlie
lieutenant, "and that not very long ago. How
many massacres did they make when the railway
was being built — "

"Then there were fewer people — Cheyenne
was only a few shanties — "

" Cheyenne 1" cried the lieutenant " Cheyenne
a defense? — a handful of Indians, they would
drive every shopkeeper out of the plaoe in an
hour — "

" I don't kpow about that," responded oar

182

GRKVN PASTURES AND PICOADILLT.

oompanlon for the time being. "The moat of
the men about here, Sir, I can Mture yon, hare
had their tussles with the Indians, and could
malie as good a stand as any soldiers could. But
the Sioux won't come down here ; they will keep
to the hills, where we can't get at thein."

" My good friend, this is what I can not under-
stand, and you will tell me," said the lieutenant,
who was arguing only to obtain information.
"You are driving the Indians to desperation.
You malce treaties; you allow the miners to
break them ; you send out your soldiers to mas-
sacre the Indians because they have killed the
white men, who had no right to come on their
land. Very well : in time you will no doubt get
them all killed. But suppose that the chiefs be-
gin to see what is the end of it. And if they say
that they must perish, but that they will parish
in a great act of revenge, and if they sweep down
here to cut your railway line to pieces — which
has brought all these people out — and to ravage
Cheyenne, then what is the use of such forts as
this Fort Russell and its handful of soldiers ?
What did I see in a book the other day ? that the
i)ght:ng-mcn of these Indians alone were not less
than 800<) or 10,000, because the young men of
the Red (^loud and Spotted Tail people could eas-
ily be got to join the Sioux ; and if they are to die,
why sliould they not do some splendid thing Y"

" Well, Sir," said our friend, patting the neck
of one of his horses, as the ladies were getting
into the carriage, "that would be fine — that
would be striking in a book or a play. But you
don't know the Indians. The Indians are cow-
trd J, Sir, take my word for it ; and they don't
^glit except for plimder. They are revengeful
— oil yes — and malicious as snakes; but they
wouldn't kill a man unless they could get his
riflf, or his oxen, or something. The young men
are different sometimes; they want scalpe to
make themselves big in the eyes of the gals ; but
you wouldn't find a whole tribe of Indians fling-
ing their lives away just to make a fuss in the
New York popers."

At this point we started off again across the
plains ; and the discussion was adjourned, as the
Iri'ih magistrate said, nne die until the evening.
Only Bell was anxious to be assured that if Sit-
ting Bull and his merry men should meditate one
grand and unal act of revenge, they would not
make their way down to the plains of Colorado
and take up their abode there ; and she was great-
ly comforted when she heard that the chief trou-
ble of the government was that it could not get
the Indians to forsake their native hills in the
north and go down to the Indian Territory in the
south.

" I think, Mrs. Von Rosen," said Lady Sylvia,
" that you will have some romantic stories to tell
your children when you return to England. You
would feel very proud if you compelled the In-
dians to address you as ' Brave squaw I brave
squaw !' "

" I can assure you I am not at all anxious to
become a heroine," our Bell said, seriously ; no
doubt remembering that romantic incidents have
sometimes « knack of leaving children mother-
less.

And now " the Rockies " had grown quite dra-
matic in their intensity of plum-color, and there
were flashing shoots of crimson fire high over the
dusky peaks. But as we were driving eastward,

w* Mw vren mora beautiful ook>n on the othei
horiion ; for there were huge soft mauea of ooj. ^^y
or that had their high ridges of wiow touohet i^iop
with a )>a1e safTron as the lignt went down. Anc ^i^riv
then, iT^en the aun had really sunk, we foi d „„ ^
that stntnge phenomenon again appear along ma ,Q{|ei
eastern horiion — a band of dull dead blue lying
close to the land, where no clouds were, and fad
ing into a warm orinu.m above. Had this belt

of fo(
lay
^-elop-
deriv
on th

of colored shadow been a belt of mountar.i8, we »,jgt

should have estimated them to be about 0000
feet above the level of these plains, which are
themselves 0000 or 6000 feet above the level ol
the sea ; and a strange thing was that this dusk;

blue and the crimson above remained well into t|,g ^^
the twilight, when all the world around us was ^^^^
growing dark. It was in this wan twilight thai ii,^^
we drove out to a lake which will, no doubt, foRo , '
an ornamental feature in a big park when the
Black Hills miners, gorged with wealth, come back
to make Cheyenne a great city. The chief attrac-
tion of the lake, as we saw it, was th.^ presence ol
a considerable number of wild-duck on the sur
face ; but we did not stay long to look at them,
lor the reason that there were several boats oul
after them ; and the tiny jets of pink fire thai
were from time to time visible in the silvery twi
light showed that the occupants of the boats wen
firing pretty much at random. As we did not wisii
to have a charge of No. shot for supper, m
drove off, and eventually were landed at the rail
way inn at Cheyenne.

We were quite conscious of having done an in mornlni
justice to " Hell on Wheels " in taking only this
cursory g'ance at so famous a place; but tlicD
we knew that all our letters — and perhaps tele
grams — were now at Idaho, and we wished to ge
on as soon as possible. But as the present writci
was unanimously requested by the party to paj
a tribute of gratitude to the clean and comfoi ta
ble little inn at the station, he must now do so
only he must also confess that he was bribed, fui

might
the ti
bung

mate
convei
explai
which

were (

to con
no ult
when
nd
swept (
any — »
come u
friendl
"Be!
laurel y
Beighb(
chief a|
dir im {
"Inl
are to

Frnii
the stati

ftud 8 WO'

the good-natured landlord was pleased, as we sa ^^ ^y^

^at en
platform

at supper, to send in to us, with his compliments
a bottle of real French champagne. Good action!
should never go unrewarded ; and so the gentl( trafnwo
reader is most earnestly entreated, the first timi j^^^ ^^
he goes to Cheyenne — in fact,, he is entreated t( p^,j„t ^^
go to Cheyenne anyhow — to stay at this inn am ^ whicl
give large orders. Moreover, the p'csent writer
not wishing to have his conduct in this particula
regarded as being too mercenary, \vould wish U
explain that the bottle of cliampagne in ques
tion was, as we subsequently discovered, chargei
for in the bill, and honestly paid for too ; but h |f ^'j "q\
can not allow the landlord to be deprived of al i^ajt;,
credit for i-is hospitable intentions merely on ao ghiverine
count of an error on the part of the clerk. W morning
drank to his health then, and we will do ao now rangeraei

Here is to your health, Mr. , and to yours, yo j„ jj^y ^

kind friend, who showed us the non-fortified For
Russell ; and to yours, you young Canadian gen
tleman, who told us those sad stories about Den
ver; and we hereby invoke a malison on th
Grand Central Hotel of that city, on account o
its cockroaches, and ita vinous decoctions, an
its incivility ; but all this is highly improper, am
premature, and a breach of confidence.
We did indeed spend a pleasant evening thi

night at Cheyenne ; for we had'ordered for ou g^jjig ^^^
banquet all the strangest dishes on the bill o lo^i^^^ ^,
fare, just to give our friends a notion of the soi ,f^ ^ ^

grave pi
nenrousr
we toucl
Sylvia si
eager, bu

ed how,
beautiful
Rocky M
At len
into the
was eng(
etill furtl
away fro
out on tl

oolon OB the othn
i Mft ntMSM of ml

of food they would have to encounter during their

ilay in the West. And then these steaks of an-

es of iiiow touobec telope, and mountain sheep, and blUok-taiied deer

lit went down. ^ Aw derived a certain romance from the presence,

on the walls of the room, of splendid heads and

intlers, until it appeared to us that we must be

mighty hunters just sitting down to supper, with

. the trophies won by our own sword and spear

•ove. Had this belt \^^j^g up around us. And then our Prussian strat-

bU of^mounta^iB,^we jgjgt — who had acquired such a vast and inti-

niitte acquaintance with the Indians from his

conversation with the Omaha idiot — proceeded to

explain to us his plan of an Indian campaign;

which showed that he was quite fitted to take

illy lunk, we fo.
lin appear along tne
dull dead blue lying
ilouds were, and fad-

1 to be about 0000

He plains, which are

i above the level o<

was that this dusky

remained well into ii,o command of all the red men in Dakota. We

orld around us wat

k will, no doubt, form
big park when tht
th wealth, come back
y. The chief attrao
, was thj presence ol
ild-duck on the sur
)ng to look at them,
;re several boats out
ets of pink fire tba
»le in the silvery twi
nta of the boats wer(
, As we did not wist
shot for supper, m
re landed at the rail

of having done an in

" in taking only tliii

IS a place ; but tlici

s — and perhaps tele

and we wished to gr

as the present writci

by the party to puj

clean and comforta

he must now do so

t he was bribed, foi

9 pleased, as we sa

ith his compliments

lagne. Good actioni

reated, the first tim(
fet„he is entreated t(

stay at this inn am
kthe p'esent writer
|ict in this particula

lary, would wish U
Ihampagne in ques
1 discovered, chargei
laid for too ; but lii

we will do BO now

OREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

were treated to a dose of history, too ; to show

is wan twilight ^that ^\^f^^^ i,i desperation, the Indians have often risen
to . commit a general massacre, apparently witli
no ulterior motive whatever. And of course,
when Sitting 3ull had swept down on Cheyenne
ind drunk its taverns dry; and when ho had
swept down on Denver, and filled his pockets — if
any — with sham French jewelry, surely he would
come up to Idaho to pay a certain young lady a
friendly call ?

"Bell," said her husband, "you shall have a
laurel wreath ready, and you will have all the
neighbors trained and ready ; and, when the great
chief approaches, you will all burst out with ' Hell
dir im Siegerkranz t' "

" In the mean time," said Bell, sedately, " if we
are to catch the train for Denver at five ia the
morning, we had better get *o bed."

CHAPTER XLIX.

IN BOCIRT.

FtTK b the morning — pitch-darkness all around
the station — a clear starlit sky — the flashing belt
>ad sword of Orion almost right overhead. We
had our breakfast of bread and apples in the
p«at empty saloon ; then we went out on to the
- platform, wondering when the Cyclops eye of the

' * J ?u» «!„?!?! "*'° *°"'^ <'°™^ flaring through the dark. For
DOW we were within a few hours* journey of the
point to which those messages were to be direct-
ed which would finally set at rest one or two
grave problems; and there was a good deal of
nervousness visible among our women-folk when
we touched on these probabilities. But Lady
Sylvia showed no nervousness at all. She was
eager, buoyant, confident. She was clearly not
• ^ f ] 'f™*^ °^ ""y telegram or letter that might be
be depnved of al jAraiting her at Denver. Nay, when her friends,
tions merely on M shivering in the cold and darkness of the early
of the clerk. Wi morning, wete complaining of the railway or-
rangements that compelled us to get up at such

ke non-fortified Foi
(ung Canadian gen
stories about Den
I a malison on tb
city, on account o
lus decoctions, an
ighly improper, an
Infidence.

ant evening th>
ad'ordered for ou
hes on the bill o

, ^'i** *;^_y^^?'J" *" ''""'■' ^^'^ ™''''® ''g''* o* **>^ matter, and show-
ed how, as we went south, we should have the
beautiful spectacle of the sunrise breaking on the
Rocky Mountains.

At length the train came along, and we got
into the warm carriage, in which the conductor
was engaged in cramming a blazing stove with
etill further blocks of wood. Very soon we were
iway from the scattered shanties of Cheyenne,
Dut on the lone prairie-land that was to be our
Bell's future home. And as we sat and silently
looked out of the windows, watching a pale glow

notion of the soi ^\^ ^ ^^^ past, and trying to make out some-

thing on the dark plains below, suddenly we
caught sight of some flashing lights of red and
yellow. These were the breakfast fires of some
travellers camping out — probably miners or trad-
ers making for tno Black HilU with a train of
wagons and oxen. The lighi in the east in-
creased ; and then we saw all along the western
horizon the great wall of the Rocky Mountains
become visible in a stream of color — the peaks
the faintest rose, the shadowy bulk below a light,
transparent, beautiful blue. The morning came
on apace ; the silvery grays of the east yielding
to a glowing saffron. There seemed to be no
mists lying on these high plains, for, as the sun
rose, we could see an iminenss distance over the
yellow prairie- laud. And the first object, wo
perceived in this lonely desert of grass were a
number of antelope quietly grazing within rifle-
range of the railw y line, talcing no heed what-
ever, though occasionally one of the more timid
would trot off on its spider-like legs to a safer
distance. Bell began to laugh. She saw the
misery of her husband's face.

" Ah, well," said he, with a sigh, " I suppose if
the train were to stop, and you went down with
a gun, they would be away like lightning. But a
time mil come; and your husband. Lady Sylvia,
will be with me to help me, I hope."

There was certainly no misery on Lady Sylvia's
face, noK that the brilliant light of the new day
filled the carriage. Was this the pale sad soul
who had come away from England with us, out
of sorts with the world, and almost aweary of her
life ? There was a color in her cheeks that near-
ly rivaled Bell's apple-blossom tints. There was
an unusual gladness in her eyes this morning
that we could not at first account for ; but she
let the secret out : she had been making elabo-
rate calculations. The telegram she received at
Omaha from Queenstown had been waiting for
her two days before she got it. Then, taking into
account the number of days we staid at Omaha
and the leisurely fashion in which we had come
across the plains, there was at least a chance — so
she proved to herself — that her husband might
at that very moment be landing ai, one of the
New York wharves. It all depended on the steam-
er. Who knew any thing about that steamer?
Notoriously it belonged to the fastest of all the
lines. Was it possible, then, that as we were
chatting and laughing in this railway carriage on
the Colorado prairies, Balfour might be on the
same continent with us ? You could almost have
imagined that his stepping ashore had communi-
cated some strange magnetic thrill to his wife's
heart.

" We are getting near to Greeley now," said

Queen T to her friend Bell, looking rather

eagerly out of the window.

" Yes," said the practical lieutenant, " and we
sKall have twenty minutes there for a real break-
fast. An apple and a bit of bread is not enough,
if you arc tnivelling in Colorado air."

But I do not think it was altogether the break-
fast — though that, as it turned out, was excellent
— that led us to look out with unusual interest
for this little township set far among the West-
ern plains ; there were other reasons, which need
not be mentioned here. And, indeed, we have
the most pleasant memories of Greeley, as it
shone there in the early sunlight. We walked
up the broad main thoroughfare, with its twin

184

OREEN PASTURES AND PIOOAOILLT.

rows of ootton - wood trees; and no doabt the
empty street mined something from the fact
that the end of it seemed closed in by the pale-
blue line of the Rooky Mountains, the peaks here
and there glittering with snow. A bright, clean,
thriving -looking place, with its handsome red-
brick school • house and its capacious white
church ; while many of the shanties about had
pleasant little gardens attached, watered by small
irrigation canals from the Cache-la-poudre River.
An we were passing one of those tiny streams, a
great heron rose slowly into the air, his heavy
wings flapping, his legs hanging down ; but a
large hawk, crossing a field Ix'yond, took no no-
tice of him ; nnd we were disappointed of a bit
of extempore falconry. Wo had only a look at
the public park, which is as yet mostly a wilder-
ness of underwood, and a glimpse at the pretty
villas beyond ; in fact, ou: explorations nearly
lost us our train. As we think of Orceley now
— here, in England, in the depth of winter — it
shines for us still in t( <« light of iiio summer morn-
ing, and the trees anu fields are green around
it, and the mountains are blue under the blue of
the sky. May it shine and flourish forever I

It is most unfair of the Americans to speak
slightingly of Denver. It is a highly respectable
city. Wc were quite astounded, on our first en-
trance, by the number of people who appeared
in black coats and tall hats ; and the longer we
staid in the place, the more we were impressed
by the fashion in which the Denverites had re-
moved the old stains from their reputation by
building churches. They have advanced much
farther in the paths of civilization than the slow-
moving cities of the East. In New York or Bos-
ton hotels the servants merely claim a free-and-
easy equality with the guests; in Denver they
have got far beyond that. The wines are such
triumphs of skillful invention as no city in the
world can produce. And then, when one goes
into the streets (to escape from the beetles in
one's bedroom), the eye is charmed by the varie-
ty of nationalities every where visible. A smart
Mexican rides by, with gayly decorated saddle, on
his long-tailed pony. Chinese women hobble on
their small shoes into an iron-mongery shop.
The adjoining saloon is called "Zur goldenen
Trauben ;" and at the door of it a red - haired
Irishwoman is storraily quarreling with an angry
but silent and sulky negress. Over this seething
admixture of population dwell the twelve patri-
cian families of Denver, shining apart like stars
in a silent heaven of their own. We are not per-
mitted to gaze upon any one of these — unless —
unless? Those two people who stood on the
steps of the hotel after dinner? They were
distinguished-looking persons, and much bedia-
mondcd. The lady wore beautiful colors, and
the red -faced gentleman had a splendid gold
chain round his neck; and thus — so far as we
could make out — they spake :

" Jim," said the lady, " don't you remember
that hop of Steve Bellerjean's that he giv after
he run away wi' Dan Niggles's gal, to make up
all around, when he found pay-gravel, and mar-
ried the gal?"

" No," said the other, reflectively, " I disre-
. member."

" Well, that woman in yaller fizins that stared at
me all dinner, I could swear was Steve's woman."

" But Steve run away £rom her," said the gen-

tleman, who aeemed to remember aome thion, if
not the hop. "She didn't pan out well. Tried
to put a head on him with a revolver— j««louiy
and rum. Steve went to Sonora ; tried to bust
the government ; and the Oreaaera ketched him
with a lariat, and his ohips were passed in."

The gentleman in the gold chain had sudden-
ly grown melancholy.

" Yes ; Steve's chips were called," chimed in
his spouse.

" That's what's the matter with all of us," con.
tinued her companion, in a aad tone. "That's
what no Fifteenth Amendment can stop; the
chips must be paid. That's what I told the boys
down at Gridiron Bend, when I gir my experi-
ences and lined the church, and Euchre - deck
Billy heaved that rock into the christenin'-place ;
sea I, Boys, sea I, life gen'rally begins with a
square deal, leastways outside the idiot asylum.
'Cordin* as you play your hand, will the promises
be kep*. Sure enough, some has aces, and some
not, and that's luck ; and four aces any duy is as
good a hand as the Ten Commandments. With
four aces, I'd buck agin the devil. But we dc.i't
have four aces in the first deal, unless mebbe the
Czar of Russia, or the Prince of Wales, or some
of them chaps ; and so life and religion la pretty
much as we play the hand we've got."

The lady seemed to put another aspect on
these moral truths.

" Hosea Kemp," said she, practically, " that
pig-skinned Mormon fraud, diukivered that when
you raised him ten thousand, and raked in his
pile ; and ho had a full, and you were only king
h.gh."

" That was before I knowed l)etter, and I hadn't
seen the vanities," said the repentant sinner.
" But when I played, I played my hand for all
that it was worth ; and that's what's the matter
with me. You kent fool away your hand and
keep the chips ; and that's what you find in the
Commandmentb. That's the idee." What the
idea was we were rather at a loss to discover ;
but we were not exactly in search of conundrums
at this moment.

Indeed, our arrival at Denver had put an end
for the time being to our idling and day-dream-
ing. First of all, there were the leiters (there
were no telegrams for any one, so we imagined
that Balfour had not yet reached New York) ;
and in the general selfishness of each seizing
his or her own packet, no one noticed the ex-
pression with which Lady Sylvip broke open the
only envelope addressed to her. There was a
turmoil of news from home, mostly of a domes-
tic and trivial natur>%, but none the less of tre-
mendous importance to the two mothers. And
when they turned to Lady Sylvia, she was sitting
there quite calm and undisturbed, without any
trace of disappointment on her face.

" So Mr. Balfour has not reached New York
yet," said Queen T , in her gentle way.

"I suppose not," was the answer. "I was
calculating on the very shortest time possible.
This letter was written some time before he left
England. It is only about business afTairs."

It was not until that evening that Lady Sylvia
communicated the contents of this letter to her
friend, and she did so without complaint as to
the cold and formal manner in which her hus-
band had written. Doubtless, she aaid^ he was
perfectly right. She had left Um of her own

ib«r ■OBI* (hiiun, if
an out well. Tried
refolTei^— Jealouqr
nora ; tried to buit
«Mers ketched him
ere passed in."
i chain had sudden>

called," chimed in

with all of us," con*
sad tone. "That's
lent can stop; the
ivhat I told tlie boys
in I gir my experi>
, and Euchre - decic
le christenin'-place ;
nlly beffins with a
e the idiot asylum,
id, will the promises
has aces, and some
r aces any day is as
imandmonts. With
levil. But we dc.i't
i\, unless mebbe the
) of Wales, or some
nd religion is pretty
e've got."
another aspect on

e, practically, " that
iHlcivered that when
id, and ralied in his
you were only icing

better, and I hadn't

I repentant sinner,

ed my hand for all

what's the matter

ay your hand and

hat you find in the

idee." What the

k loss to discover;

rch of conundrums

[er had put an end
g and day-dream-
the letters (there
I, so we imagined
iched New York) ;
IS of each seizing
le noticed the ex-
'ic broke open the
There was a
lostly of a domes-
the less of tre-
ro mothers. And
'ia, she was sitting
[rbed, without any

face,
leached New York
gentle way.
answer. "I was
•St time possible,
before he left
tiness affairs."
that LAdy Sylvia
this letter to her
complaint as to
which her bus-
she BMdt he was
him of her own

GREIN FASTCRES AND PIOOADILLT.

lecord ; she deaenred to be treated aa a atranger.
But the prompt answer to her message to him
eonvinoed her— this sha said with a happy oon-
Idence in her eyes— of the spirit in which he waa
DOW coming out to her ; and if, when he came
out here, she had only five minutes given to her
U) tell him — But the present writer refuses to
reveal further the secrets that passed between
these two women.

In fact, he would probably never have known,
but that at this juncture he was privately appeal-
ed to for advice. And if, in the course of this
faithful narrative, he has endeavored as far as
possible to keep himself in the background, and
to be the mere mouth-piece and reporter of the
party, that rAle must be abandoned for a moment,
le must explain that ho now found himself in a
position of some diflSculty. Balfour had written
out to Lady Sylvia, informing her of the coiUpse
of his father's firm. It was hopeless, he said, to
think of the firm resuming business ; the trade
that had made his father's fortune was played
out. In these circumstances, he considered him-
lelf bound to give up every thing he possessed
to his creditors, and he wished to know whether
ibe, Lady Sylvia, would feel disposed to surrender
in like manner the £60,000 settled on her before
her marriage. He pointed out to her that she
was not legally bound to do so, and that it was a
rery doubtful question whether she was morally
bound ; it was a matter for her private feeling.
If she felt inclined to give up the money, he
would endeavor to gain her father's consent.
But he thought that would be difficult, unless she
ilso would join in persuading him ; and she might
point out that, if he refused, she could in any
ease pay over the annual interest of the sum.
He hoped she was well ; and there an end.

Now, if Lady Sylvia had had a bank-note for
£50,000 in her pocket, she would have handed it
over with a glad heart. She never doubted for a
moment that she ought to pay over the money,
especially as she now knew tiiat it was her hus-
band's wish; but this reference to her father
rather bewildered her, and so she indirectly ap-
pealed for counsel.

Now, how was it possible to explain to this
gentle creature that the principle on which an
uitenuptial settlement is based is that the wife
is literally purchased for a sum of money, and
that it is the bounden duty of the trustees to see
that this purchase-money shall not be inveigled
iway from her in any manner whatever? How
was it possible to point out to her tha\ she might
have children, and that her husband nnd father
were alike bound by their duties as trustees not
to let her defraud these helpless things of tb^
future Nay, more : it would be net<;89ary to
tell her that these hypothetical young peo|)le
might marry ; and that, however they might love
their mamma, papa, and grandpapa, nome can-
tankerous son-in-law could suddenly came down
on the papa and grandpapa and comp':i thein to
make good that money which they haa allowed,
in defiance of their trust, to be dissipated in an
act of quixotic sacrifice.

" I always thought the law was idiotic," says
Queen T .

" The law in this case is especially devoted to
tbe protection of women, who are not supposed
to be able to take care of themselves."

" Do you mean to say that if Lady Sylvia, to

\'hom tha money belongs, wtohM to give U upy
she can not give it up T"

" It does not belong to her ; it belongs to Bal-
four and Lord Willowby, in trust for her ; and
they dare not give it up, except at their own risk.
What Balfour meant by making himself a trustee
can only be imagined ; but ho Is a shrewd fel-
low."

"And so she can not give up the money I
Surely that la a strange thing — that one i« not
allowed to defraud one s self t"

"You can defraud yourself as much as you
like. If she chooses, she can pay over the £2000
a year, or whatever it is, to Balfour's creditors ;
but if she surrendered the original sum, she
would be defrauding her children ; do you see
that ? Or does your frantic anxiety to let a wom-
an fling away a fortune that is legally hers blind
you to every thing Y"

" I don't see that her children, if she has any,"
saya this tiny but heroic champion of strict mo-
rality, " would benefit much by inheriting money
that ought never to have belonged to them. That
money, you know very well, l^longs to Mr. Bal-
four's creditors."

"This I know very well: that you would be
exceedingly glad to see these two absolute beg-
gars, so that they should be thrown on each oth-
er's helpfulness. I have a suspicion that that
is the foundation for this pretty anxiety in th'.
cause of morality and justice. Now there is no
use in being angry. Without doubt, you have a
sensitive conscience, and you are anxious that
Lady Sylvia's conscience should be oonaulted too ;
but all the same — "

By this time the proud blood has mounted to
her face.

" I came to you for advice, not for a discourse
on the conscience," she says, with a splendid look
of injured dignity. " I know I am right ; and I
know that she is right, children or no ohildren.
You say that Lord Willowby will probably re-
fuse — "

" Balfour says so, according to your account."

" Very well ; and you explain that he might b«
called on to make good the money. Could not
he be induced to consent by some guarantee-
some indemnity — "

" Certainly, if you can get a big enough fool to
become responsible for £60,000 to the end of
time. Such people are not common. But there^
sit down, and put aside all these fantastic speo-
ulations. The immediate thing you want is Lord
Wiilowby's consent to this act of legal vandalism.
If he refuses, his refusal will be based on the per-
sonal interests of his daughter. He will not con-
sider children or grandchildren. Long before her
ek^est born can be twenty -one. Lord Willowby
wiU be gathered to his fathers ; and as for the
risk he runs, he has not a brass farthing that
any one can seize. Very well : you must explain
to Lady Sylvia, in as delicate a way as you can,
that there might be youthful Balfours in th^
days to come, and that she must consider wheth-
er she is acting rightly in throwing away this
provision — "

" But, gracious goodness 1 her husband want*
her to do so, and she wants to do so — "

" Then let that be settied. Of course, all hus-
bands' wishes are law. Then you uust explun
to her what it is she is asking her father to do,
and point out that it will take a good deal of ap-

18«

OREBN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

praling before he consenta. He hu • etriotly
legal right to refuie ; further, ho can plead hia
natural concern for hia daiighter'a Intcionta — "

" He uught to have more regard fur liic daugh-
ter's honor 1" aaya she, irarmly.

"Nonacnae! You are talking as if Dalfour
had gone into a conapirauy to gut up a fraudulent
settlement. It is no business of hers thut the
Arm fulled—"

" I say it is a matter of strict honor and integ-
rity that she should give up this money; and she
»haU give it up !" says Queen T— , with an in-
d^ant look.

" Very well, then ; if you are all quite content,
there only remains thut you should appeal to
Lord Willowby."

"Why do you laugh?"

" Lord Willowby thought he would get some
money through Balfour marrying hia daughter.
Now you are asking him to throw away his last
chance of ever getting a penny. And you think
he will consent."

" His daughter shall make him," said she, con-
fident in the sublime and invincible powers of
virtue. Her confidence, in this instance, at least,
was not misplaced — so much must be admitted.

CHAITER L.

A NKW COMPANION.

Thk arrival of the new sovereign to take pos-
session of the ceded duininions had been made
known to tlic people at Eagle Creek Ranch ; and
soon our poor Bell was being made the victim of
continual interviews, during which agents, over-
seers, and lawyers vainly endeavored to get some
definite information into her bewildered head.
For what was the use of reporting about the last
branding of calves, or about the last month's
yield of the Belle of St. Joe, or about the proba-
ble cost of the new crushing-machines, when the
perpetual refrain of her thinking was, " Oh, good
people, wouldn't you take the half of it, and let
me have my children ?"

Fortunately her husband was in no wise bewil-
dered, and it was with not a litv \ curiosity that
he went off to inspect the hor i.s and two car-
riages that had been sent on to Denver for us
from the ranch. My lord was pleased to express
his approval of these ; albeit that one of the ve-
hicleH was rather a rude-looking affair. The oth-
er, however — doubtless Colonel Sloano's state
carriage — was exceedingly smart, and had obvi-
ously been polished up for the occasion; while,
as regards the horses, these were able to elicit
even sotnething more than approval from this
accomplished critic. He went back to the hotel
highly pleased. He believed he had got some
inkling thnt life at the ranch was not wholly sav-
age. The beautiful polished shafts and the care-
fully bniMJiod dark-blue cushions had had an ef-
fect on his imagination.

And then, riglit in the midst of all this turmoil,
Lady Sylvia got a telegram from New York. We
had just sat down to dinner in the big saloon, at
a separate table ; and we were a sufficiently staid
and decorous party, for Mr. and Mrs. Von Rosen
were dressed in black, and the rest of us had
donned whatever dark attire we had with us, out
of respect to the memory of the lamented Jack

Bloftna. (One of the sieeutors wh to oall in on
ui after dinner; but no matter.) This telegram
produced quite a flutter of eioltement, ana for
the moment we forgot all about Texan herds and
placer niinea. Lady Sylvia became a trifle pale
as the telegram was handed to her, and she seem-
ed to read It at one glance ; then, despite herself,
a smile of pleasure came to her lips, and the col-
or returned to her face.

"But what is this, Mr. Von Rosen?" she said,
and she endeavored to talk in a matter-of-fact
way, as if nothing at all had happened. " My
husband speaks of some proposal you have made
to him."

"Yes," said the lieutenant, blushing like a
guilty school-boy.

He looked at his wife, and both were a trifle
embarrassed; but at this moment Lady Sylvia
handed the telegram across the table.

" You may read it," she said, indifferently ; as
if it had conveyed but little news to her. And
yet it was a long telegram — to be sent by a man
who was not worth sixpence.

" Biufh Balfour, Aijw York, to Lady Sylvia BaU
four, Ventral Hotel, Denver ; Have got your letter ;
nil u right. Shall reach you Saturday, Pleatt
ttil Von Bosen thai, tuhjeet to your wuhei, I accept
proposal with gratittuU."

" Lady Sylvia," said the lieutenant, with his
bronzed face as full of triumph as if he himself
had brought about the whole business, " will vou
let me cry ' Hurrah V Bell, shall I cry ' Hurrah V
Madame, do you object ?"

And he held up the bit of paper for a signal,
as if we were about to shock the calm proprie-
ties of Denver.

" May I see the telegram. Lady Sylvia f " said
Mrs. Von Rosen, taking no notice of her mad
husband.

" Certainly. But please tell me, Mr. Von Rosen,
what the proposal is. Why do you wish to cry
'Hurrah?'"

"Ah, yes, you may well ask," said the yonng
man, moderating his fervor, " for I was tor soon
with my gladness. I will have to persuade you
before we can cry any hurrahs. What I was
thinking of was this — that you and Mr. Balfour
would be a whole year with us, and we should
have great amusement ; and the shooting that I
have heard of since yesterday — oh 1 1 can not tell
you of it. But he says it is all subject to your
wisfies; now I must begin to persuade you to
stay away from England for a whole year, and
to give us the pleasure of your society. It is a
great favor that my wife and myself we both ask
of you ; for we shall be lonely out here until we
get used to the place and know our neighbors;
but if you were our neighbors, that would be very
pleasant. And I have been very busy to find out
about Eagte Creek — oh no, it is not so bad as you
would think ; you can have every thing from Den-
ver — I do not know about ladies' saddles, but I
will ask — and it is the most beautiful and healthy
air in the world. Lady Sylvia — "

" My dear Mr. Von Rosen," said Lady Sylvia,
interrupting him with a charming smile, " don't
seek to persuade me ; I was persuaded when I
got the message from my husband ; for of course
I will do whatever he wishes. But if you will let
me say so, I don't think this proposal of yours is
very wise. It was scarcely fair of you to write
to New York and inveigle my husband into it,

GRUN PAflTUKn IND PIOCADILLT.

lit

m WM to mil in on
i«r.) Thii toleftram
eicitement, anu for
>ut Teian herdi and
t>ecame a trifle pale

her, and'she ievm-
;hen, deapite hcraulf,
lor lips, and the cul-

1 Rosen Y" she said,
in a matter-of-fact

td happened. "M7
posal you have made

nt, blushing like a

d both were a trifle
lomcnt Lady Sylvia
iho table.

lid, indifferently ; as

news to her. And

to be sent by a roan

; to Lady Siflvia BaU I
Have got your letter ;
u Saturday. Pkatt
your wishet, I accept

lieutenant, with liia
iph as if he himself |
3 buainess, " will you
ihall I cry' Hurrah V

F paper for a signal,
>k the calm proprie-

Lady Sylvia f " said
notice of her mad

me, Mr. Yon Rosen,
do you wish to cry {

ik," said the young
I* for I was toe soon
to persuade you
■ahs. What I woa
lU and Mr. Balfour
us, and we should
|the shooting that I
ih 1 1 can not tell
subject to your
persuade you to
whole year, and
ir society. It is a
yself we both asl:
out here until we
w our neighbors ;
that would be very
iry busy to find out
not 80 bad as you
Iry thing from Den-
ieb' saddles, but I
utiful and healthy

[said Lady Sylvia,

jiing smile, " don't

persuaded when I

for of course

if you will let

Dposal of yours is

|r of you to write

husband into it,

without lettbc m* know. It !• Twy churning,
no doubt ; and you are vtry kind ; nnd I hftvo
not the leaat doubt wo Hhall enjor ourtelvea Torr
much ; but tou must remember that my husbano
nnd myself have something elu to think of now,
We can not afford to think only of shooting on i
riding, and pleasant society. Indeed,! took t
for granted that my husband had come cut a
America to find some profession or occupation ;
and I am' rather surprised that he has accepted
your proposal. It was too tempting, I suppose ;
and I know we shall enjoy ourselves very much — "

Husband and wife bad been glancing at each
other, as if to inquire which should speak first.
It was the lieutenant who took the burden on his
ahouldera, and certainly he was extremely em-
barrassed when he began. Fortunately in these
Western hotels you are expected to order your
dinner all at once, and it is put on the table at
once ; and then the waiter retires, unless he hap-
pens to be interested in your convcrsntion, wiicn
he remains, and looks down on your shoulders.
In thit case, our colored brother had uovcd off
nbit.

"Lady Sylvia," said he, "I wish Mr. Balfour
had explained to you what the propoaal is in a
letter ; but how could that be? He will be here
M soon as any letter. And I am afraid you will
think me very impertinent when I tell you."

Ho looked at her for a seoond ; and then the
courage of this man, who had been through the
whole of the 1866 and 1870-'? 1 campaigns, and
done good service in both, fell away altogether.

"Ah," said ho, lightly — but the Germans are
not good actors, " it is a little matter. I will
leave it to your husband to tell you. Only this
I will tell you, that you must not think that your
husband will spend the whole year in idleness — "

" It is a mystery, then Y" she said, with a smile.
" I am not to be allowed to peep into the secret
chamber f Or is it a conspiracy of which I am
to be the victim? Mrs. Von Rosen, you will not
allow them to murder me at the ranch ?"

Mrs. Von Rosen was a trifle embarrassed also,
but she showed greater courage than her hus-
band.

" I will tell you what the seoret is. Lady Syl-
via," she said, " if my husband won't. He is
afraid of offending you ; but you won't be offend-
ed with me. We were thinking, my husband Knd
myself, that Mr. Balfour was coming out to Amer-
ica to engage in some business; and you know
that is not always easy to find ; and then we were
thinking about our own affairs at the same time.
Tou know, dear Lady Sylvia " — and here she put
her hand gently on her friend's hand, as if to stay
that awful person's wrath and resentment — " we
run a great risk in leaving all these things both
up at Idaho and out on the plains, to be managed
by persons who are strangers tn us — I mean,
when we go back to England, .ind it occurred
to my husband and myself that if we could get
flome one whom we could thc7?«:;,'hly trust to stay
here and look into the accounts and reports on
the spot — well, the truth is, we thought it would
be worth while to give such a person an interest
in the yearly result rather than any fixed salary.
Don't you think so?" she said, rather timidly.

" Oh yes, certainly," Lady Sylvia replied. She
half guessed what was coming.

"And then," said our Bell, cheerfully, as if it
were all a joke, " my husband thought he would

write to Mr. Balfour telling him that if he liked
to try this for a time — Just until he could look
round and get something better — it would be a
great obligation to us ; and it would bo so pleas-
ant for UH to have vou out here. That was the
proposal. Lady Sylvia. It was only a suggestion.
Perhaps you would not care to remain out hero,
so far away from your home ; but In any case I
thought you would not be offended."

She was, on the contrary, moHt deeply and
grievously offended, as was natural. Her' indig-
nant wrath knew no bounds. Only the sole to-
ken of it was two big tears that quietly rolled
down her face— despite her endeavcrs to conceal
the fact ; and for a second or two she did not
speak at all, but kept her head cast down.

" I don't know," said she, at length, in a very
low and rather uncertain voice, " what wo have
done to deserve so much kindness — from all of
you."

" Oh no. Lady Sylvia," our Bell said, with the
utmost eagerness, "you must not look on it as
kindness at all — it is only a business proposal ;
for, of course, we are very anxious to have every
thing well looked after in our absence — it is of
great importance for the sake of the children.
And then, you see, Mr. Balfour and yourself would
be able to give it a year's trial before deciding
whether you would care to remain here ; and you
would be able to find out whether the climate
Buited you, and whether there was enough amuse-
ment — "

" Dear Mrs. Von Rosen," said Lady Sylvia,
gently, "you need not try to explain away your
kindness. You would never have thought of
this but for our sakes — "

" No," she cried, boldly ; " but why ? Because
we should have sold off every thing at the end
of the year, rather than have so much anxiety in
England. But if we can get this great business
properly managed, why should we throw it
away ?"

" You forget that my husband knows nothing
about it—"

" He will have a year to learn ; and his mere
presence here will make all the difference."

"Then is it understood. Lady Sylvia?" the
lieutenant said, with all the embarrassment gone
away from his face. " You' will remain with us
for one year, anyway ?"

" If my husband wishes it, I am very willing,"
she said, " and very grateful to you."

" Ha I" said the lieutenant, " I can see wonder-
ful things now — wagons, camp-fires, supper-par-
ties ; and a glass of wine to drink to the health
of our friends away in England. Lady Sylvia,
your husband and I will write a book about it
— A Yearns Huntinff in Colorado and the Rocky
Mountaim."

" I hope my husband will have something els6
to do," Ijady Sylvia said, " unless you mean to
shame us altogether."

" But no one can be working always. Ah, my
good friends," he said, addressing the remaining
two of the party, "you will be sorry when you
start to go home to England. You will make a
great mistake then. You wish to see the Alio*
ghany Mountains in the Indian summer? Oh
yes, very good ; but you could see that next year;
and in the mean time think what splendid fun
we shall have — "

" Ask Bell," said Queen T , with a quiet

188

GRSflN PA8TUiai9 ANP PlCgADILI^T.

smile, " whether ehe would rather return with us
now, or wait out here to hear of your shooting
blaolc-tailed deer and mountain sheep ?"

At this point a message was brought in to us ;
and it waa unanimously resolved to asl£ Bell's
business friend to come in and sit down and have
a glass of wine with us. Surely there were no
secrets about the doings pf Five-Ace Jaoli unfit

for us all to hear ? We found Mr. T. W. G

a most worthy and excellent person, whose tem-
per had not at all been soured by his failure
to find the philosopher^ stone. It is true, there
was a certain sadness over the brown and wrin-
kled face when he described to ua how the many
processes for separating the gold from the crush-
ed quartz could just about reach paying expenses,
and without doing much more ; and how some
little improvement in one of these processes, that
might be stumbled on by accident, would sudden-
ly make the discoverer a millionaire, the gold-
bearing quartz being simply inexhaustible. It

was quite clear that Mr. G had lost some

money in this direction. He was anxious we
should go up to Georgetown, when we were at
Idaho, to see some mines he had ; in fact, he pro-
duced sundry little parcels from his pocket, un-
rolled them, and placed the bits of stone before
us with a certain reverent air. Our imagination
was not fired.

He had known Colonel Sloane very well, and
he epoke most discreetly of him ; for was not his
niece here in mourning ? Nevertheless, there was
a slight touch of humor in his tone when he told
us of one of Bell's mines — the Virgin Agnes —
which led one or two of us to suspect that Five-
Ace Jack had not quite abandoned his tricks,
even when his increasing riches rendered them
unnecessary. The Virgin Agnes was a gulch
mine, somewhere in the bed of the stream that
comes rolling down the Clear Creek cafion, and it
was originally owned by a company. It used to
pay very well. But by-and-by the yield gradu-
ally diminished, until it scarcely paid the wages
of the men ; and, in fact, the mine was not con-
sidered worth working further. At this point it
was bought by Colonel Sloane; and the strange
thing was that almost immediately it began to
yield in a surprising manner, and had continued
to do 80 ever since. Mr. G-~— congratulated
our Bell on being the owner of this mine, and
said he would have much pleasure in showing it
to her when she went up to Idaho ; but he grave-
ly ended his story without dropping any hint as
to the reason why tlie Virgin Agnes Ltd slowly
drooped and suddenly revived. Nor di^^ he tell
us whether the men employed in that ro ne were
generously allowed by Cok>nel Sloane t<> share in
his good fortune.

He asked Bell whether she proposed to start
for Idaho next day. She looked at her husband.

" Oh nO;" said the lieutenant, promptly. " We
have a friend arriving here on Saturday. We
mean to wait for him."

" Pray don't delay <m his account," Lady Syl-
via said, anxiously. " I can very well remain
here for him, and come up to you afterward."

" Oh, we sbaJl have pl^y to do in these three
or four days — plenty," the lieutenant said; "I
must see about the ladies' saddles to-morrow,
and I want to buy an extra rifle or two, and a re-
volver, and a hunting-knife. And then this list
of things for the house at Idaho — "

No doubt there was a good deal to be done ;
only one would have thought that three or four
days were pretty fair time in which to prepare
for a short trip up the Clear Creek cafion. It
was not, however. On the Saturday morning ev-
ery one was most extraordinarily busy, especial-
ly as the time approached for the arrival of the
train from Cheyenne. Next day all the shops
would be shut; and on Monday morning early
we started.

"Lady Sylvia," said the lieutenant, with in-
genuous earnest: iCSB, " I must really go after
those saddles again. Tell Mr. Balfour I shall be
back to luuch, will you, if you please ?"

Indeed, one went away on one mission, and
the other on another, until there was no one of
the party left in the hotel with Lady Sylvia but

Queen T . The latter was in her own room.

She rung, and sent a servant to ask her friend
to come and see her. She took Lady Sylvia's
hand when she entered.

"I am going to ask you to excuse me," said
she, with great innocence. " I feel a little tired ;
I think I will lie down for an hour, until luncheon-
time. But you know, dear Lady Sylvia, if there
are none of them down stairs, aU you have to do
is to get into the omnibus when it calls at the
door, and they will drive you to the station ; and
you will not have long to wait."

The white hand she held was trembling vio-
lently. Lady Sylvia said nothing at all ; but
her eyes were moist, and she silently kissed her
friend, and went away,,

About an hour thereafter, four of us were
seated at a certain small table, all as mute as
mice. The women pretended to he very busy
with the things before them. No one looked
toward the door. Nay, no one would look up as
two figures came into the big saloon, and came
walking down toward us.

" Mrs. Von Rosen," said the voice of Lady Syl-
.a, in the gayest of tones, " let me present to
you your new agent — "

But her gayety suddenly broke down. She
left him to shake hands with us, and sat down
on a chair in the dusky corner, and hid away her
face from us, sobbing to herself.

"Ha!" cried the lieutenant, in his stormiest
way, for he would have none of this sentiment,
" do you know what we have got for you after
your long journey f My good friend, there is a
beefsteak coming for you ; and that — do you
know what that is f — that is a bottle of English
ale !"

CHAPTER LL '

OUR LAST NIGBT TOOKTHKR.

On that Monday morning when we left Denver
to seek BcH's distant home in these pale - b^.>e
mountnins, there was no great rejoicing among
ue. It was the last day of our lung journeying
together, and v« had been ple.i.sautly associated ;
moreover, one cf us was going to leave her dear-
cat friend in these remote wildf, and she was
rather downhearted about it. Happily the se-
cret exultation ot Lady Sylvia, which could not
altogether be concealed, kept up our spirits some*
what : we wondered whether she was not going
to carry her husband's portmanteau for hun, so
anxious was she about his comfort.

deal to be done ;
hat three or four
which to prepare
^reek cafion. It
relay morning ev-
ly busy, especial-
he arrival of the
ay all the shops
ly rooming eaily

utenant, with in-
really go after
3alfour I shall be
iJease?"

one mission, and
re was no one of
I Lady Sylvia but
in her own room,
to ask her friend
)ok Lady Sylvia's

excuse me," said
feel a little tired ;
ir, until luncheon-
iy Sylvia, if there
ill you have to do
en it calls at the
the station ; and

as trembling vio-
hing at all ; but
ilently kissed her

four of UB were
e, all as mute as
to he very busy
No one looked
would look up as
aloon, and came

[oice of Lady Syl-
)t me present to

^ke down. She
■s, and sat down
[nd hid away her

In his stormiest

this sentiment,

)t for you after

^iend, there is a
that — do you

lottle of English

Iher,

J we left Denver

Ihese pale - b^:<e

pjoicuig among

ong journeying

bitty associated ;

lleave her dear-

1, and she was

^ttppily the se>

«icli could not

■ spirile some-

|wa8 not going

lu for him, so

GREEN PASTURES AND PIGGADILLT.

189

The branch line of rail that pierces for some
distance the CSear Creek cafion takes a circui-
tous course on leaving Denver through some
grassy plains which are intersected by narrow
and muddy rivulets, and are suflBciently uninter-
esting ; so that there was plenty of opportunity
for these sojourners to sketch out something of
their plans of living for the information of the
new-comer. But Balfour — who, by-the-way, had
got thoroughly bronzed by his travelling — would
not hear of all the fine pleasure-excursions that
the lieutenant was for planning out.

"We are under enough obligation to you,"
said he, " even if I find I can do this thing,; but
if I discover that I am of no use at all, then jour
charity would be too great. Let us get to work
first ; then, if the way is clear, we can have our
play afterward. Indeed, you will be able to com-
mand my attendance, once I have qualified my-
self to be your servant."

"Yes, that is reasonable," said the lieutenant.

" I am quite sure," said Lady Sylvia, " that my
husband would be a poor companion for you, so
long as our affairs are unsettled — "

"And, besides," said Balfour, with a laugh,
"you don't know what splendid alternative
schemes I have to fall back on. On the voyage
over, I used to lie awake at night and try to im-
agine all the ways in which a man may earn a
living who is suddenly made penniless. And I
got up some good schemes, J think : good for a
man who could get some backing, I mean."

" Will you please to tell us some of them ?"

snid tjueen T , with no apparent sarcasm.

" We are so often appealed to for chari'y ; and
it would be delightful to be able to tel' poor peo-
ple how to ma ke a fortune."

"The poor people would have to have some
influence. But would you like to hear my
schemes ? They are numberless ; and they aro
all based on the supposition that in T^ondon
there are a very large number of peoplo who
would pay high prices for the simplest necessa-
ries of life, provided you could supply these of
the soundest quality. Do you see ? I take the
case of milk, for example. Think of the num-
ber of mothers in London who would pay a
double price for milk for their children, if you
could guarantee them that it was quite unwater-
cd, and got from cows living wholesomely in the
courtry instead of in London stalls? That is
only tne of a dozen things. Take bread, for ex-
ample. T believe there are thousands of peo-
ple in London who would pay extra for French
bread if they only knew how to get it supplied
to them. Very well : I step in with my associa-
tion — for the wants of a great place like Lon-
don can only be supplied by big machinery —
and I get a duke or two, and a handful of H.P.'s
with me, to give it a philanthropic look ; and,
of course, they make me manager. I do a good
public work, and I benefit myself."

" Do you think you would succeed as the man-
ager of a dairy ?" said Queen T , gently.

" As well, probably," said he, ktughing, " as the
manager of Mrs. Von Rosen's mines and farms !
But having got up the company, you would not
ask me to look after the cows."

" Oh, Hugh," said Lady Sylvia, anxiously, " I
hope you will never have any thing to do with
any company. It is that which has got prK>r
papa into such trouble. I wish he could l^ve

all these things for a time, and come out here for
a holiday ; it would do him a great deal of good."

This filial wish did not seem to awaken any
eager response, though Mrs. Von Rosen murmur-
ed something about the pleasure it would give
her to see Lord Willowby. We had not much
hope of his lordship consenting to live at a ranch.

And now we drew near the Rockies. First of
all, rising from the plains, we encountered some
ridges of brown, seared, earthy-looking hills, for
the most part bare, though here and there the
crest was crowned by a ridge of pine. At the
mouth of one of the valleys we came upon Golr'
en City, a scattered hamlet of small houses, with
some trees, and some thin lines of a running
stream about it. Then, getting farther into the
mountains, we entered the narrow and deep gorge
of the Clear Creek cafion, a naturally formed
highway that runs and winds sinuously for about
thirty miles between the huge walls of rock on
either side. It was not a beautiful valley, this
deep cleft among the mountains ; but a gloomy
and desolate place, with lightning -blasted pines
among the grays and reds of the fused fire-rocks ;
an opaque gray -green river rushing down the
chasm ; the trees overhead, apparently at the
summit of the twin precipices, black against the
glimmer of the blue s'^y. Here and there, how-
ever, were vivid gleams of color: a blaze of the
yellow leaves of the cotton -wood, or a mass of
crimson creeper gi')wing over a gray rock. We
began to wonder, too, whether this small river
could really have cut this deep and narrow chasm
in the giant mountains ; but there, sure enough,
far above us on the steep slopes, were the deep
holes in the intertwisted quartz out of which the
water in by-gone ages must have slowly worked
the bowlders of some alien material. There were
other holes, too, visible on the sides of this gloomy
gorge, with some brown earth in front of them, as
if some animal had been trying to scrape for it-
self a den there : these were the " prospect holes "
that miners had bored to spy into the secrets of
the everlasting hills. Down below us, again, was
the muddy stream, rushing between its beds of
gravel ; and certainly this railway carriage, on its
narrow gauge, seemed to tilt dangerously over to-
ward the sheer descsnt and the plunging waters.
The train, indeed, as it wound round the rocks,
seemed to be some huge python, hunted into its
gloomy lair in the mountains.

We were glad to get out of it, and into th&
clear sunshine, at the terminus — Floyd Hill ; and
here we found a couple of stage-coaches, each
with four horses, awaiting to carry us still farther
up inio the Rockies. They were strange- look-
ing vehicles, apparently mostly built of leather,
and balanced on leather springs of enormouS'
thickness. But they soon disappeared from sight..
We were lost in such clouds of dust as were nev-
er yet beheld by mortal man. Those who had
gone inside to escape found that the half-dozen
windows would not keep shut ; and that, as they
were flung hither and thither by the plunging of
the coach up the steep mountain-paths, they lost
sight of each other in the dense yellow clouds.
And then sometimes a gust of wind would cleave
an opening in the clouds ; and, behold I a flash-
ing picture of pine-clad mountains, with a dark-
blue sky above. That jolting journey seemed to
last for ever and ever, and the end of it found
us changed into new creatures. But the coat of

140

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

dust that covered us from head to heel had not
suflSced to blind us ; and now before our eyes we
found the end and aim of our journey — the far
hamlet of Idaho.

Bell looked round bewildered ; she had dread-
ed this approach to her future home. And Queen

T , anxious above all tilings that her friends'

first impressions should be favorable, cried out,

" Oil, Hell, how beautiful, and clean, and bright
it is !"

And certainly our first glance at Idaho, after
the heat and dust we had come thiough, was cheer-
ing enough. We thought for an instant of Cha-
mouuix as we saw the small white houses by the
side of the green, rushing stream, and the great
mountains rising sheer beyond. There was a
cool and pleasant wind rustling through the leaves
of the young cotton-wood trees planted in front
of the inn. And when we tunied to the mount-
ains on the other side of the narrow valley, we
found even the lofty pine- woods glowing with
color; for the midday sun was pouring down on
the undergrowth — now of a golden yellow — so
that one could almost believe that these far slopes
were covei'ed with buttercups. The coaches had
stopped at the inn — the Beebe House, as it is
called — and Colonel Sloane's heiress was received
with much distinction. They showed her Colonel
Sloane's house. It stood on a knoll some distance
off ; but we could see that it was a cheerful-look-
ing place, with a green painted veranda round
the white walls, and a few pines and cotton-woods
about. In the mean time we had taken rooms at
the inn, and speedily set to work to get some of
the dust removed. It was a useful occupation;
for no doubt the worry of it tended to allay that
nervous excitement among our women-folk, from
which Bell, more especially, was obviously suffer-
ing. When we all assembled thereafter at our
midday meal, she was still somewhat pale. The
lieutenant declared . '^ after so much travelling,
she must now take a long rest. He would not
allow her to go on to Georgetown, for a week at
least.

And was there ever in all the world a place
more conducive to rest than this distant, silent,
fileepy Idaho up here ib the lonely mountains?
When the coaches had whirled away in the dust
toward Georgetown, there was nothing to break
the absolute calm but the soft rustling of the
small trees ; there was not a shred of cloud in
the blue sky to bar the glare of the white road
with a bit of grateful shadow. After having had
a look at Bell's house, we crossed to the other
side of the valley, and entered a sort of tributary
gorge between the hills which is known as the
Soda Creek cafion. Here all vestiges of civiliza-
tion seemed to end, but for the road that led we
knew not whither; and in the strange silence
we wandered onward into this new world whose
plants, and insects, and animals were all unfa-
miliar to us, or familiar only as they suggested
some similarity to their English relatives. And

yet Queen T strove to assure Bell that there

was nothing wonderful about the place except its
extreme silence and a certain sad desolation of
beauty. Was not this our identical Hichaelmas-
daisy, she asked? She was overjoyed when she
discovered a real and veritable harebell — a trifle
darker in color than our harebell, but a harebell
all the same. She made a dart at a cluster of
jellow flowers growing up among the rocks, thini;-

ing they were the mountain-saxifrage ; bat they
turned out to be a composite plant — probably
some sort of hawk-weed. Her efforts to reach
these flowers had startled a large bird out of the
bushes above ; and as it darted off, we could see
that it was of a dark and luminous blue: she bad
to confess that he was a stranger. But surely
we could not have the heart to regard the merry
little chipmonk as a stranger — which of all living
creatures is the friendliest, the blithest, the most
comical. In this Soda Creek cafion he reigns
supreme ; every rock and stone and bush seems
instinct with life as this Proteus of the animal
world scuds away like a mouse, or shoots up the
hill -side like a lizard, only, when he has got a
short distance, to perch himself up on his hind-
legs, and curl up his bushy tail, and eye us de-
murely as he affects to play with a bit of may-
weed. Then we see what the small squirrel-like
animal really is — a beautiful little creature with
longitudinal bars of golden brown and black along
his back ; the same bars on his head, by the side
of his bright, watchful eyes ; the red of a robin's
breast on his shoulders ; his furry tail, jauntily
cocked up behind, of a pale hrown. We were
never tired of watching ihe tri< )< . ^nd attitudes
of this friendly little chap. \\c knew quite well
that his sudden dart from the lee of some stone
was only the pretense of fright ; before he had
gone a yard he would sit up on his haunches and
look at you, and stroke his nose with one of his
fore-paws. Sometimes he would not even run
away a yard, but sit quietly and watchfully to see
us pass. We guessed that there were few stone-
throwing boys about the Rocky Mountains.

Behold ! the valley at last shows one brief
symptom of human life; a wagon drawn by a
team of oxen comes down the steep road, and the
driver thereof is worth looking at, albeit his straw
sombrero shades his handsome and sun-tanned
face. He is an ornamental person, this bull-
whacker; with the cord tassels of his buckskin
jacket just appearing from below the great Span-
ish cloak of blue cloth that is carelessly thrown
round his shoulders. Look at his whip, too^ • t o
heavy thongs of it intertwisted like serpent h«
has no need of bowie-knife or pistol in thes' «■ ni
while he carries about with him that fo .nio. V;'
weapon. The oxen pass on down the valley, th ;
dust subsides ; again we are left with the silence,
and the warm sunlight, and the aromatic odors
of the may-weed, and the cunniug antics of our
ubiquitous friend the chipmonk.

" There," said the lieutenant, looking up to the
vast hill-slopes above, where the scattered pines
stood black among the blaze of yellow under-
growth, " that is the beginning of our hunting-
country. All the secrets are behind that fringe
of wood. You must not imagine, Lady Sylvia,
that our life at Idaho is to be only this dullness
of walking — "

" I can assure you I do not feel it dull at all,"
she said ; " but I am sorry that our party is to
be broken up — just when it has been completed.
Oh, I wish you could stay with us !" she adds,
addressing another member- of the party, whose
hands are full of wild flowers.

" My dear Lady Sylvia," says this person, with
her sweetest smile, " what would you all do if you
had not us to take back your messages to En-
gland? We are to teach Bell's little girl to say
Idaho. And when Christmas comes, wc shall

GREEN PASTURES AND PICCADILLY.

'48

df rage ; but they
plant — probably
r efforts to reach
;e bird out of the
of?, we could see
luablue: she had
iger. But surely
regard the merry
ivhich of all living
blithest, the most
caBon he reigns
! and bush seems
us of the animal
, or shoots up the
len he has got a
f up on his hind-
1, and eye us de-
ith a bit of may-
imall squirrel-Uke
ttle creature with
n and black along
head, by the side
e red of a robin's
urry tail, jauntily
■rown. We were
< V , \nd attitudes
J knew quite well
lee of some stone
it ; before he had
his haunches and
e with one of his
lid not even run
watchfully to see
e were few stone-
Mountains.
I shows one brief
igon drawn by a
eop road, and the
albeit his straw
and sun-tanned
)erson, this buU-
of his buckskin
the great Span-
arelessly thrown
whip, too^ • 1
ike serpent, hi>
tol in thes'; v.! ;.!
that fomio; V;'
the valley, the
with the silence,
aromatic odors
ig antics of our

loking up to the
scattered pines
yellow under-
of our hunting-
ind that fringe
e, Lady Sylvia,
ly this dullness

it dull at all,"
our party is to
een completed.
18 1" she adds,
e party, whose

lis person, with
- _ all do if you

essagcs to En-
tile girl to say
^mcs, wc shall

think of you at a particular hour — oh, by-the-
waj, we have never yet fixed the exact difference
of time between Surrey and Idaho — "

" We will do that before you leave, madame,"
aaya the lieutenant, " but I am sure we will think
of you ft good many timea before Christmas
comes. And when Mr. Balfour and I have our
bears, and buffaloes, and elephants, and all these
tbngs, we will see whether we can not get some-
thing sent you in ice for your Christmas party.
And you will drink our good health, madame,
will you not ? And perhaps, if you are very kind,
you might send us one bottle of very good Rhine
wine, and we will drink your health, too. Nee !
I meant two bottles, for the four of us — "-

"I think we shall be able to manage that,"
says she ; and visions of real Schloss Johannis-
berg, each bottle swathed in printed and signed
guarantees of genuineness, no doubt began to
dance before her nimble brain.

But at this moment a cold breeze came rush-
ing down the narrow gorge ; and almost at the
same instant we saw the edge of a heavy cloud
come lowering over the very highest peak of the
mountains. Some little familiarity with the
pranks of the weather in the Western Highlands
ifuggested that, having no water - proofs, and no
shelter being near, we had better make down the
valley again in the direction of Idaho ; and this
we set about doing. The hot afternoon had
l^wn suddenly chill. A cold wind whistled
jDirough the trembling leaves of the cotton-woods,
^e mountains were overshadowed, and by the
time we reached Idaho again it seemed as if the
aight had already come down. The women, in
their thin dresses, were glad to get indoors.

" But it is this very thing," the lieutenant cried
— ^for he was anxious that his wife should regard
her new home favorably — "that me.-.es these
places in the Rocky Mountains so wholesome;
so healthful, I mean. I have heard of it from
many people, who say here is the best sleeping-
place in the world. It is no matter how warm it
is in the day, it is always cold at night ; you al-
ways must have a blanket here. The heat — that
is nothing, if you have the refreshing cold nf the
night ; people who can not sleep any wherb else,
they can sleep here very well. Every one says
that."

" Yes, and I will tell you this," he added, turn-
ing to Balfour; "you ought to have staid some
lays more in Denver, as all people do, to get ac-
mctomed to the thin air, before coming up here.
UI the doctors say that."

" Thank you," said Balfour, laughing, " my
ungs are prttty tough. I don't suffer any incon-
renience."

" That is very well, then ; for they say the air
of these placet' will kill a consumptive person — "

" Oh, Oswald 1" his wife cried. " Don't fright-
en us all"

"Frighten yon?" said he. "Will you show
me the one who is likely to be consumptive?
There is not any vne of us does look like it. But
if we all turn to be consumptive, can not we go
down to the plains? and we will give up £e
mountain-sheep for the antelope — "

" I do believe," said his wife, with some vexa-
tion, " that you had not a thought in coming out
here except about shooting !"

" And I do believe," he said, " that you Lad
no thought except about your children. Oh, you

ungrateful woman ! Tou wear mourning — ^yes ,
but when do you really mourn for your poor un-
cle ? When do you speak of him ? Tou have
not been to his grave yet."

" You know very well it was yourself who in-
sisted on our coming here first," said she, with a
blushing face ; but it was not a deadly quarrel

The chillness of the night did not prevent our
going oat for a walk later on, when all the world
seemed asleep. And now the clouds had passed
away from the heavens, and the clear stars were
shining down over the mystic darkness of the
mountains. In the silence around us we only
heard the plashing of tho stream. It was to be
our last night together.

CHAPTER LIL

ACF WIEDERSEHNI

In the early morning — ^the morning of farewe!!
— we stood at the small window — we two who
were leaving — and tried to fix ir orr memories
some picture of the surroundings of Bell's home;
for we knew that many a time in the after-days
we should think of her and endeavor to form
some notion of what she was engaged in at the
moment, and of the scene around her. And can
we remember it now ? The sunlight seems to
fall vertically from that blazing sky, and there is
a pale mist of heat far up in the mountains, so
that the dark pine-woods appear to have % faint
blue fog hanging around them. On the barer
slopes, where the rocks project in shouidei'S,
there is a more brilliant light ; for there the un<
dergrowth of cotton-wood bushes, in its autumn
gold, bums clear and sharp, even at this distance.
And then the eye comes down to the still valley,
and the scattered white houses, and the small
and rustling trees. We seem to hear the run-
ning of the stream.

And what was that little bit of paper thrust
furiively, almost at the last moment, into our
Bell's trembling hand ? We did not know that
we had been entertaining a poetess unawares
among us ; or had she copied the verses out of a
book, just as one takes a flower from a garden
and gives it as a token of remembrance — some>
thing tangible to recall distant faces and by-gone
friends ?

"O Idaho! far Idaho I
A last farewell beforj we go—"

That was all that the companion of this unhon-
ored Sappho managed to make out as the paper
was snatched from her hand. No doubt it in-
voked blessings on the friends to whom we were
bidding good -by, No doubt it spoke of the
mother's thinking of her children far away.
And there certainly was no doubt that the verses,
whether they were good verses or bad verses,
served their turn, and are treasured up at this
moment as though their like had never been seen.
On that warm, clear, beautiful morning, when
the heavy coach came rolling up to the door of
the inn, Balfour and Lady Sylvia did not at all
seem broken down by emotion ; on the contrary,
they both appeared to be in high spirits. But
our poor Bell was a wretched spectacle, about
which nothing more shall he said here. Her last
words were about her children ; but they weru
almost inaudible, through the violence of her 8ob«

QfVmi PASTURES AND PICCADILLT.

V
■I'

jing. And w« knew well, as w« eaught the IaX
glimpse of that waved bandkerohi^, that tbU
^oken of farewell was not meant for us : it was
but a message we were to carry back with us
across the seas to a certain home in Surrey.

JJiir hat die Mdr' an Ende; and yet the pre<i-
ent writer, if he is not overtaxing the patience of
the reader, would like to say a word about the
fashion in which two people, living pretty much
by themselves down iu the solitudes of Surrey,
used to try to establish some link of interest and
Association with their friends far away in Colo-
rado, and how, at these times, pictures of by-gone
scenes would rise before their minds, soft, and
clear, and beautiful ; for the troubles and trials
of travelling were now all forgotten, and the
pleasant passages of our journeying could be
separated and strung like lambent b^ds on the
thread of memory.

Or shall we not rather take, as a last breach of
confidence, this night of all the nights in the year
— ^this Christmas-eve— which we more parCicuiar-
Ij devote to our dear and absent friends ? It is
now drawing away from us. We have been over
to Bell's almost deserted house ; and there, as
the children were being put to bed, we heard
something about Ilaho. It was as near as the
little girl oould get to it; it will suffice for a
message.

And now, late as it is, and our own house being
wrapped in silence after all the festivities of the
evening — well, to tell the truth, there vxu a wild
turkey, and there «wr« some canvas-back duck ;
and we were not bound to tell two eagerly inquis-
itive boys that these could not well come from
Colorado, though they did come from America—
a madness seems to come over our gentle Queen
Titania, and she will go out into the darkness,
though the night is cold and there is snow on the
ground. We go forth into tiie silent world. The
thin snow is crisp and dry underfoot. The stars
are shining over our heads. There is no wind
to stir the blank shadows of the trees.

And now^ as the tinte draws near when we are
to send that unspoken message to the listening
ones across the seas, surely they are waiting like
ourselves ? And tfaiie dark night, even up here
on Mickleham Downs, where we go by the dusky
yew-trees like ghosts, becomes afire with light,
and oolw, and moving shapes ; for we are think-
ing once more of the many scenes that connect
us by an invisible chain with our friends of the
past. How long ago was it that we eat in the
long saloon, and the fog-horn was booming out-
ttde, and we heard Lady Sylvia's tender voice
ringing with the others, "Abide with me; fast
falls the eventide," as the good ship plunged on-
ward and through the waste of waters ? But the
ship goes too slow for us. We can outstrip its
speed. We are already half-way over to Bell's
retreat, and here we shall rest ; for are we not
high over the Hudson, in the neighborhood of the
haunted mountains? — and we have but to give
another call to reach the far plains of Coferado 1
» • « w » « «

" Ho, Vanderdecken — Heinrich Hudson — can
TOu take our message from us and pass it on f
This is a night, of all the nights in the k>ng year,
that you are sure to be abroad, you and your sad-
faoed crew, up there in the leoely valleys, under
the light of the stars. Can you go still higher
4Htd send u vie w-balleo across to the Becky Maint-

ains . Can you aay to our friends that w« art
listen ng ? Can you tell them that something has
just b "-. said — (hey will know by whom^bout
a certain dear motiier at Ilaho? Give a call,
then, across the waste Atlantic that wa may
hear t Or is it the clamor of tlte katydids that
drowns the ghostly voice ? We can not hear at
all. Perhaps the old men are cowering in their
cave, because of the sacred time ; and there is
no mirth in the hills to-night ; and no huge cask
of 8chL>.pos to be tapped, that the heavy beards
may wag. '^•inderdacken — Hendrick Hudson —
you are of no uue to us : we pass on : we leave
the dark mountains behind us, under the silent
stars.

" ' Saint of this sreen isle, hear onr prayer,
Qraut US coolbeaveue and favorlog air t
Blow, breeies, blow, the slresm rnus fast ;
The rapids are near and the daylight's past I'

" Look at the clear gold ray of the light-houses,
and the pale green of the sunset skies, and the
dark islands aud trees catching the last red flush.
And is not this Bell's voice singing to us, with
such a sweetness as the Lake of a Thousand Isl-
ands never heard before—

" ' Soon as the woods on shore look dim.
We'll sing at St. Ann's oar parting hymn.'

The red flame in the west burns into our eyet;
we can see oo more.

» » « « M » *

*' We were starUed by this wild roaring in our
ears, as if the world were falling, and we are in
a mystical cavern ; and the whirling gray cata-
racts threaten to tear us from the narrow foot-
hold. Our eyes are blinded, our throats are
choked, our fingers still clutch at the drippmg
tocks ; and then all at once we see your shining
and smiling face — ^you giant black demon — ^you
magnificent Sambo-— you huge child of the nether
world of waters I We kemt oo no xoboir dkh
DAWTf Is that what you say? We shout to
you through this infernal din that we can — ^we
can— -we can! We elude your dusky fingers.
We «end you a mocking farewell Let the wa-
ters oome cradling down ; for we have dived-"
and drifted — and come up into the white mu-
light agiun t

"And now there is no sound at all. We can
not even hear Bell's voice ; for she is standing
silent in front of the Chiefs grave ; and she k
wondering whether his ghost is still lingering
hei-e, looking lor the ships of the white man go-
ing up and down the great river. For our part,
we can see none at all. The broad valley is de-
serted ; the Missouri sliows no sign of life ; on
the wide plains around us wc find only the reed-
bird and the grasshopper. Farewell, White Cow ;
if your last wish is not gratified, at least the si-
lence of the prairie is reserved to you, and no
alien plough crosses the solitude of your grave.
You are an amiable ghost, we think ; we would
shake hands with you, and give you a friendly
' How V but the sunlight is in our eyes, and we
can not see you, just as you can not make out the
ships on that long line of river. May you haVe
everlaatiiig tobacco in the world of dtvuns \

"You infamous H«iidrk>k Hadaon, wili not
you carry our message now— rfor our voices can

a
wil

m
o

gU|
tin
thd
yoil
by-
Bid

riends that wti m
that something haa
Mr bjr whom — about
ahof Give a call,
ntic that we may
f tlie katydids that
Ve can not hear at
e coweriug in their
time; and there is
; and no huge cask
t tlie heavy beards
[endrick Hudson —
pass on : we leave
IS, under the silent

\T onr prayer,
favoring air !
'earn rnua fast ;
16 daylight's past I*

of the light-houses,
nset skies, and the
g the last red flush,
singing to us, with
of a Thousand Isl-

re look dim,
parting bymn/

irns into our eye*;

wild roaring in our
ling, and we are in
whirling gray oata-
n the narrow foot-
1 our throats are
!fa at the dripping
see your shining
t)lack demon — ^you
child of ttie nether

no TOBDIR SBH

We shout to
that we can — ^we
ur dusky fingers.
relL Let the wa-
we have dived—
o the white sun-

• . •
at all. We can
she is standing
rave; and she is
is still lingering
le white man go-
For our part,
■bad valley is de-
sign ofUtt; on
id only the reed-
irell, White Cow;
, at least the si-
to you, and no
of your grave,
uink ; we would
I you a friendly
ir eyes, and we
ot make out the
May }-«u hate

m «

idaon, will not
our voioes can

OREEN PASTURES AND PICOADILLT.

148

not reach across the desert plains? Awaken,
von oowled heads, and come forth into the star-
light; for the Christmas bells have not rung
yet; and there is time for a solemn passing of
the glass I High up in your awful solitudes, you
can surely hear us ; and we will tell you what
you must call across the plains, for they are all
silent now, as silent as the white skulls lying in
the sand. Vanderdecken, for the sake of Heav-
en — if that has power to conjure you — call to
our listening friends ; and we will pledge you in
a glass to-night, and you and your ghastly crew
will nod your heads in ominous laiighter — "

But what is this that we hear, suddenly shak-
ing the pulses of the night with its tender sound ?
O friends far away ! do you know that our En-
glish bells are beginning to ring in the Christraab-
time 1 If you can not hear our faint voice across
the wild Atlantic and the silent plains, surely
you can hear the sounds you knew so well in the
by-goi\e days ! Over the crisp snow, and by the
side of the black trees and hedges, we hurry
homeward. We sit in a solitary room, and still
we hear outside the faint tolling of the bells.

The hour nears ; and it is no dire spirit that we
expect, but the gentle soul of a mother coming
with a message to her sleeping children, and
stopping for a moment m passing to look on her
friends of old.

And she will take our message back, we know,
and tell that other young wife out there that we
are glad to hear that her heart is at peace at last.
But what will the invisible messenger take back
for herself ? A look at her children : who knows f

A second to twelve. Shall we give a wild
scream, then, as the ghost enters ; for the silence
is awful f Ah no! Whether you are here or
not, our good Bell, our hearts go forth toward
you, and we welcome you ; and we are glad that,
even in this silent fashion, we can bring in the
Christmas-time together. But is the gentle spir-
it here— or has it passed f A stone's-throw from
our house is another house ; and in it there is a
room dimly lit ; and in the room are two sleep-
ing children. If the beautiful mother has been
here with us amidst the faint tolling of these
Christmas bells, you may be sure she only smiled
upon us in passing, and that she is now in that
silent room.

<pATf ' THB END.

V \