The only object that struck their attention was a lady with the remains of beauty, whose external appearance indicated a person of quality, accompanied by a young lady, nearly Emmelina's age, dressed in white and a small green hat ornamented with a wreath of white pearls, which shaded the most amiable countenance. They both came and seated themselves near Madame and Miss de Clinville, when the young stranger could not keep her eyes from the bunch of cherries, and remarked to the lady who was with her: 'How fresh and beautiful they are!' Anxiety was depicted in her eyes and in every action, and at length, slowly advancing towards Emmelina, with the most affable condescension, she said: 'What a delicious nosegay you have there, miss! The freshness of it can only be compared with your complexion.'

'It would be a better comparison with your own,' answered Madame de Clinville; 'for, with your pretty green hat, one might justly say: "Behold the cherry under the leaf."'

'It is surprising to me,' added the young stranger, 'that miss does not eat these fine cherries, no less gratifying to the taste than sight.'

'They are my mother's gift,' modestly answered Emmelina, 'and, being so rare, I really cannot enjoy them alone. If you, miss, will condescend to divide them with me!—the happiness of sharing with others that which we possess enhances the value of its enjoyment.'

'These last words, which Emmelina pronounced in the most expressive manner, made a lively impression on the young lady.

'How can you withstand a favour said with feelings and sentiments so interesting?' demanded the handsome lady who escorted her; at whose advice, attended with a sign of approbation, the young stranger accepted the first cherry from the delightful bunch.

Emmelina presented the second to her mother, and the stranger offered the third to her charming companion; and the two young folks ate of them by turns till there remained only the leaves. They entered into conversation, when Madame de Clinville endeavoured by several judicious and direct questions to ascertain the name of the pretty green hat; but, perceiving the lady make a sign of caution to the unknown, she ceased further interrogatories, and they mutually adhered to the customary civilities, and separated with assurances of the pleasure so agreeable an interview had excited.

On returning home, Madame de Clinville and her daughter observed that a servant in red livery had followed them, who appeared to examine very minutely the number of the house in which they lived, and from that circumstance concluded the strange lady wished to learn their place of residence, notwithstanding she had taken every precaution to conceal her own, or the most distant knowledge of the young person in the green hat.

Several months having elapsed, Madame de Clinville thought no longer of the Tuileries adventure, when one morning, while at breakfast with Emmelina and Gustavus, her only son—a pupil at the Imperial Academy, seventeen years of age—the porter of the lodge entered the apartment, holding in one hand a ripe pineapple, and in the other a note, directed to Mademoiselle de Clinville, the contents as follows:



'Having been presented with two pineapples, permit me to offer you one of them, and to recall to mind your own impressive sentiment—The happiness of sharing with others that which we possess enhances the value of its enjoyment.

'THE LITTLE GREEN HAT.'

In vain did Madame de Clinville and her children question the porter to know who brought this note. He answered:

'It was a messenger, who, upon leaving the parcel, went away without saying a word.'

Emmelina at once decided upon sharing the pineapple with her mother and brother, which they regarded but as a return for the bunch of cherries; but were still the more perplexed from a desire to know the two strangers. In a short time the porter again entered Madame de Clinville's house with a rich china vase, in which was an orange tree of an uncommon size in full bloom, with a second letter, which was, as usual, directed to Emmelina, and contained these words:

'I received yesterday for my birthday fete, Ste Clotilde, two orange trees like the one sent you; condescend to accept of one. The happiness of sharing with others that which we possess enhances the value of its enjoyment.'

The porter informed them it was conveyed by the same person, to whom he had put several useless questions.

'What!' said Emmelina, 'am I never to know who this charming Clotilde is, with the green hat?'

'Let me try,' said Gustavus; 'I will undertake to find her out. Describe her as exactly as you can.'

'She is about my size,' answered his sister, 'but a much better figure than I am. Her grace displays a prepossessing je ne sais quoi; her regular and noble features are enlivened by an air of sweetness and gaiety that attracts and at the same time interests you; fine auburn hair flows in ringlets on her lovely neck; and the whiteness of her skin adds still greater beauty to her fine large blue eyes, the vivacity and expression of which seem to penetrate to the bottom of your heart, and to guess every thought.'

'From this picture,' said Gustavus, 'I foresee that, if I discover the unknown belle, I shall be repaid for my trouble on beholding her. Rely upon my wish to serve thee, no less than the person in whom I already sensibly feel so many charms are blended to admire.'

Gustavus exerted every effort to meet with the beauty in the green hat, the description of whom was engraven on his heart no less than on his memory. He sought her at all the public walks, theatres, balls, concerts, and, in short, every private society in Paris, yet could not possibly discover the slightest or most distant trace of her.

A month had elapsed when Emmelina, on her return from taking a walk, found upon her work-table a white silk basket, ornamented with embroidery, which, she was informed by her waiting-maid, was brought by a careful person. Not doubting it came from the amiable Clotilde, she opened the basket in her mother's presence, and found it contained every species of sweetmeat accompanied by a polite note, wherein the stranger mentioned having been a god-mother, and, loaded with presents, she had adopted Emmelina's maxim, which never was obliterated from her remembrance, and which she had actually worked in golden letters in front of the basket, with a bunch of cherries, ornamented with leaves, in embroidery—viz.: 'The happiness of sharing with others that which we possess enhances the value of its enjoyment.'

This tasty specimen of ingenuity created the most pleasing and grateful sensations in the breasts of the Clinville family, who, though distressed beyond measure at receiving so many anonymous gifts, by the manner in which they were offered were obliged to accept them. Emmelina and Gustavus therefore hesitated not to partake of the various and delicious confectionery with which the basket seemed entirely filled, but great was their surprise to discover underneath the sweetmeats half-a-dozen elegant fans, six dozen pairs of gloves, and, lastly, a beautiful white cashmere shawl with a broad border highly and elegantly finished.

'I cannot,' said Emmelina, 'think of wearing these rich articles without knowing from whom they come; simple cherries, offered with a truly hearty welcome, do not merit such considerable presents.'

'I commend thy discretion,' said Madame de Clinville to her; 'every instance denotes the rank and fortune of these charming strangers, and denies us the power to make them amends, as an exchange of presents can only be made with our equals; we must, therefore, take care of the handsome shawl till we can discover the person who has sent it.' Also the gloves and fans were carefully preserved in the elegant basket, and they contented themselves with doing justice to the delicacies.

Gustavus, although one of the first pupils at the Imperial Academy, frequently shared them with his sister, and daily repeated, while eating them: 'Oh, generous and charming green hat, I will find thee. Who would not, even the most callous, aspire to the honour and happiness of knowing thee? Yes, yes, I will discover thee....'

But, alas, his renewed researches were as unsuccessful as the former. In vain did he pursue every green hat he perceived at a distance in Paris, but could not find that similarity of grace, youth, beauty, and expression of which his sister had drawn so faithful and prepossessing a picture.

Emmelina, being no less desirous than her brother to gain a knowledge of the person with whom she had divided her cherries, prepared a note for the porter to deliver, at the same time giving him strict orders to send it by the next person that came, which note was directed To the charming Green Hat ... as follows:

'If the sensibility of your heart correspond with the charms of your countenance, you must approve of the resolution I have taken not to make use of all the presents with which you have favoured me. I therefore assure you they are placed under my mother's care, who suffers no less than myself from the cruel secrecy in which you persist.

'EMMELINA DE CLINVILLE.'

The porter, faithful to the execution of his orders, was not long the holder of the note. Two days after the same messenger presented himself at the lodge, and was preparing to go away as usual, after having left the parcel, when the porter, formerly a soldier, and still full of vigour, seized him by the collar, and called loudly for Gustavus, who, followed by his mother and sister, quickly descended to know from whence he came, but neither entreaties, threats, nor the promise of reward could prevail with this good man, who merely said the parcel was delivered to him by an old servant in red livery, who had given him a crown for his trouble, and being well recompensed he would not betray the trust reposed in him.

'Since you are so discreet,' said Emmelina, 'I am sure you must be obliging. Do me the favour to deliver this note to the same servant from whom you received the parcel; that will not bring your discretion, for which I commend you, into question, and I shall be obliged by your compliance.'

'If you only require me to give the note,' answered the porter, 'I will do it willingly, and you may rely on my punctuality. You need not follow me, for you will lose both your time and trouble....' At these words he speedily departed with Emmelina's note.

Anxious to know the contents of the newly-arrived parcel, which appeared much heavier than any hitherto, Gustavus was himself eager to open the envelope, and found a handsome uniform for an artillery officer, with an elegant sabre, to which was attached a green morocco portfolio that contained this writing:

'My relation, the Minister at War, according to annual custom, on my birthday presents me with an officer's commission, for those of my family or friends who merit it. I beg you to accept it for your brother as a due reward for his success at the Imperial Academy. If, as I doubt not, he should signalize himself in his military career, and become a hero, all I request of him is to follow your maxim: The happiness of sharing with others that which we possess enhances the value of its enjoyment.'

To the above was added a lieutenant's commission of artillery, with orders to join the appointed regiment in eight days. Gustavus conceived it a dream, for that which he so ardently desired and least expected to be provided by the generosity of a beautiful young stranger, whose delicacy redoubled the value of the gift. 'And,' said he, 'shall I take my departure without knowing, seeing, or thanking her?'

'There is a mode,' exclaimed Madame de Clinville, with her eyes beaming with recollection and delight. 'We must introduce ourselves this day to the Minister at War, and request an interview; we may then learn from him to whom we are indebted for this happy event....'

'You are right,' replied Gustavus; 'let us go to him directly.' He dressed himself in the regimentals, which to his great surprise exactly fitted him. Emmelina and her mother dressed themselves elegantly, and in an hour's time all three arrived at the Minister's house, who received them with most polite affability, and, conceiving they were acquainted with their young benefactress, said: 'In acceding to the anxious solicitations of Miss de St. Leon I am only doing justice to her deserving protege as I can trace in M. de Clinville's countenance a goodness that will render him worthy all the interest I can devote to him, and which I promise you he shall ever experience.'

'Miss de St. Leon! Miss de St. Leon!' repeated Gustavus.

'Most likely,' added Madame de Clinville, 'she is the daughter of the general who, by his great exploits, has attained one of the highest posts under Government, and is one of the Emperor's greatest favourites. We must learn where he lives, and go to him directly.'

'Let us,' said Emmelina, 'enter the first library and examine the Court calendar, and we shall find this so much desired address.' Upon which they discovered the general resided at the village St. Honore, near the Elysee, and thither speedily repaired.

Emmelina desired the porter to announce that M. de Clinville, an artillery officer, and his family requested a moment's interview with Miss de St. Leon. The porter shortly returned with a footman, who had orders to introduce the ladies and the newly-appointed officer to the great hall where Miss de St. Leon delayed not to attend them.

She was in the same dress and green hat, ornamented with white pearls, which she wore on meeting her in the Tuileries, accompanied by the same lady, whom she called her aunt. She advanced precipitately to Emmelina, and, embracing her, said: 'Forgive me for having deceived you with secrecy, and wounded your delicacy.' She then added, with sensible emotion: 'I wished gradually to give you a proof of those sentiments you inspired me with on our first meeting, and convinced, by the inquiries I made, that your greatest ambition was to obtain a commission for your brother, and from the high character given of him by the head masters of the academy my aunt and I have (in the absence of my father with the army), without difficulty obtained him that which will add to the country's service another brave soldier, and to your worthy family the completion of your wishes, and, lastly, to myself the happiness of proving to you the high value I set on your delicious bunch of cherries which you obliged me to partake of, and how strong an impression the sentiment which accompanied them has made upon my remembrance.' To which at first Emmelina made no reply, but affectionately embraced and saluted her.

Madame de Clinville could not forbear requesting permission for the same indulgence.

Gustavus, with all the vivacity of a young French officer, and eager to realize the good opinion formed of him, exclaimed with an heroic accent: 'How long the time seems ere I shall take my station under the Imperial Eagles. If I do not in a year merit the cross of honour His Majesty shall be welcome to erase me from the list of the brave....' As soon as he found his amiable benefactress had carried her goodness so far as to find out his tailor, to whom she gave the order for his first regimentals, his surprise ceased that they fitted so well.

'To complete this day of joy,' said Miss de St. Leon's aunt, 'I hope these ladies and the young lieutenant will dine with us, so that we may enjoy as long as possible the felicities they have been the means of promoting.'

Madame de Clinville readily accepted the invitation, but requested leave to return home, when herself and children departed, and at the dinner-hour made their appearance dressed in the clothes they wore at the Tuileries meeting, but in addition to Emmelina's simple dress was displayed the rich cashmere shawl, one of the fans, and a pair of gloves received from the green hat, who sensibly felt this mark of attention.

They seated themselves at table, when Miss de St. Leon discovered, on unfolding her napkin, a small case containing a ring set with three brilliants. Underneath the mounting was engraved: A token of lasting gratitude....

She immediately put the ring on her finger, and declared she never would part from it. In Emmelina she found a constant and sincere friend, in Gustavus an officer of exalted rank by his important services to his country. Miss de St. Leon and Emmelina, in their frequent interviews and the participations of their sweetest endearments, repeated together: 'The happiness of sharing with others that which we possess enhances the value of its enjoyment.'



The Fugitive

On the evening of the day which succeeded that of the visit to the Fairy Island the baronet and his family were seated in the drawing-room, and Lady Clairmont was arranging with her husband their plans for the reception of their uncle, Mr. Geoffrey Clairmont, from whom a letter had been just received intimating his intention of being with them the next day to a late dinner, but requesting they would not make any material addition to their table, as a white soup, a turbot, a little venison, and a pheasant would be all he should require, or if his fancy stood for any bonnes bouches, his factotum, Monsieur Melange (his valet, cook, and occasional secretary) would bring materials for preparing them.

The party were amusing themselves with admiring the modest simplicity of the old gentleman's bill of fare when Denton, the house-steward, ran in, and, staring wildly around, exclaimed: 'Thank goodness everybody is here!' then, darting forward to an open door which looked upon the lawn, he shut and locked it, and slammed down the sashes with the greatest precipitation, then, turning to Sir William, said: 'Pray, sir, please to come out of the room with me this moment.'

The baronet followed him outside the door, while the careful servant, still holding it ajar, added: 'Pray, ladies and gentlemen, don't stir out of this room, pray don't.' He then shut and locked the door.

'Why, what ails you, Denton; what is all this about?' said the baronet. 'One would think you had been bit by a mad dog.'

'Not exactly that, Sir William,' replied the man, quivering in every limb, 'but I fear we may all be bit, before an hour is over our heads, by something quite as bad.'

He then informed his master that the keeper of a caravan of wild beasts had just come to the castle, and stated that in going through the nearest market-town his vehicle had been upset, and the damage which ensued had given an opportunity for one of his most valuable animals, a Bengal tiger, to make its escape, that he and two of the keepers had tracked it as far as the Warren on the Clairmont estate, and he had come to beg assistance from the castle, while the other two stood armed on each side a gap in the Warren where they thought it was hid, and from whence, should it attempt to issue, they hoped, by help from Sir William, to intercept its free egress.

'They want ropes and blankets and coverlets from the servants' beds,' added Denton, 'to spread over the gap, which things they mean to fasten down on each side, and then lure the beast to the entrance by the scent of his usual food, when he will try to force himself through the coverings; then they can lay hold of his smothered head without fear, and easily slipping a noose round his neck convey him in this manner back to his old quarters.'

'By all means let them have what is necessary,' said the baronet, 'and tell the grooms to keep the stable-door locked, and get in the horses. It is not likely that the creature will come near the house till he is starved into a visitation, but let the gamekeeper and his men be ready, and muster what arms you have.'

'To be sure, Sir William, it shall be done,' said the frightened steward, as he walked cautiously across the hall, looking on every side as he advanced.

'Well,' said the baronet laughing, as he returned to the drawing-room, 'two such gourmands in one four-and-twenty hours is one too many sure enough. Here's a tiger come amongst us to-day by way of avant-courier to Uncle Geoffrey.'

'A tiger!' cried both the boys. 'Oh, where, father? But you are joking?'

'No; 'tis a plain fact, according to Denton,' said Sir William, whose information he then gave, and added: 'Though I have no apprehension of the animal coming here I must beg you all to move upstairs, and keep in the house till it is secured.'

'Secured; how can that be? it must be shot,' said William, adding: 'Pray don't let Fred and me go upstairs with the misses, father. We can load a gun, and take aim now as well as we shall do at five-and-twenty.'

'Pray let us go, father,' said Frederick; 'it would be such a thing for me to say in India that I had shot a tiger in England.'

'But,' said Mr. Stanhope, 'do you not think it would be better if the poor creature's life could be preserved? Its death must be a great loss to its owner, and life is, no doubt, happiness to the creature itself. Why terminate the existence of any animal by which we are not annoyed, and which is not necessary to our subsistence? We certainly have no right to do so.'

'Then you would not even kill a moth, Mr. Stanhope?' said Julia.

'No, that he would not, I dare say,' said Agnes; 'dear little silver-wings. Mr. Stanhope knows that clippings of Russia leather and cedar-shavings will keep the little creatures off our shawls and muffs, and why should not the pretty things live and be happy?'

'Are you the patroness of the spiders too, little girl?' said William.

'I would put one out of my room,' said Agnes, 'if I found one there, but certainly I would not kill it, for you know it does me no harm, and surely it was intended that spiders should have some place to live in, or they would not have been made.'

'You are a very considerate miss,' said William; 'but, at all events, we cannot afford any free place for tigers in this country. So come, dear father, let us have guns, and go with you and Mr. Stanhope, for I am sure neither of you intend to stay cooped up here. I promise to be under orders, and not move an inch in any way without permission.'

'And I make the same promise,' said Frederick eagerly.

'And I can answer for both,' said Mr. Stanhope warmly, 'that neither of those young gentlemen will fail to keep his word.'

'Thank you, dear sir,' said the youths in the same breath.

'Mother, grandmother, you don't wish us to stay here,' said William; 'you would not like to see us milk-sops?'

'Certainly not, my dears,' said the dowager. 'While you move under your father's directions your mother and I can have nothing to fear. Courage is a virtue indispensible in a man and a gentleman, and like other virtues is confirmed by exercise. You need not walk into the tiger's mouth, you know; but if you find him likely to do mischief, and you can prevent it, I hope you will retain your self-possession so as to make sure aim, and pull your trigger firmly.'

'Never fear, grandmother; never fear, dear mother,' cried the youths.

'Good-bye, Bill; good-bye, Freddy,' said all the sisters.

'Now, father, shall we go?'

'What say you, Mr. Stanhope,' asked the baronet, 'will you make a sortie with us.'

'Most willingly,' replied the tutor. 'I have a brace of trusty pistols in prime condition, and with a gun shall feel well equipped.'

'Well, then, ladies, adieu for the present,' said Sir William; 'you had better go up to the observatory; you may see all our movements from thence.'

'An excellent thought,' replied Lady Clairmont; and away went the female party to their high station, while the gentlemen, well furnished with arms, walked out into the park, looking with keen inquiring eyes on every side as they went on. No enemy, however, appeared, but in about ten minutes, having taken the direction of the western lodge, they were surprised by the sight of a coach-and-four coming rapidly along.

'By Jove, 'tis the Clairmont livery! 'tis Uncle Geoffrey, as I am alive!' exclaimed Sir William. 'What day of the month is this?'

'The seventeenth,' said Frederick.

'His letter says he shall be here on the eighteenth,' rejoined the baronet. 'Well, he must put up with what he can get for his dinner, and thank his own want of punctuality for his bad fare.'

'Oh, poor Sheldon, what a fuss he will be in,' said Frederick laughing. 'The turbot is taking his pastime in the waters, and the pheasant in the woods. Unfortunate Uncle Geff!'

At this moment a tremendous shout or rather yell was heard in the direction of the Warren on the left, and at a considerable distance, but it grew louder and approached nearer every moment.

'There is certainly something in the wind now,' said the gentlemen. Every eye was upon the alert, and the carriage within two hundred paces of our party.

'Ha, there he goes!' said William.

'There he goes!' cried Frederick, as the tiger darted across the park towards the carriage. 'He'll make at the horses. See! see! he has actually fastened upon poor Culina! No, 'tis Apicius, uncle's grand favourite. Look at the horses, how they rear and tear away!'

'Now,' said Sir William, 'a little in this direction to be out of his side-sight. Remember we must act in concert, and all fire at his head at the same moment. A single bullet would but interrupt his attentions to poor Apicius, and call them to ourselves, but two brace must surely disable him.'

'Oh, father,' cried William, 'how terrified the horses are! See how they plunge and rear, first on one side the road, then on the other; they will upset poor Uncle Geff to a certainty. Look, the footman leaps off like lightning, and now the coachman follows him. See, they are climbing up into the old oak, and leave the horses to their fate, the cowards! The poor beasts are perfectly mad. Now they have done it. The fore-wheel has struck against the curbstone and flown off, and now the hind-wheel on the same side is off too, and down goes the carriage. I'm sure I heard poor Uncle Geff cry out, but the tiger still keeps hold on the horse's shoulders.'

'Now there's a moment's pause,' said the baronet. 'Fire at his head!' They did so, and their aim was so just that the creature fell instantly, but his efforts to rise, in which he nearly succeeded two or three times, filled the crowd which was now assembling with dismay.

'Mr. Stanhope will lend you his pistols, boys,' said Sir William. 'Go nearer, if you like, and share the honour of giving the beast his quietus.'

The youths took the arms exultingly, and advancing boldly towards the animal, who still writhed in fearful strength, they fired again at his head, and he then sunk to rise no more. It seems he had actually taken refuge in a hollow of the Warren, but the keepers had secured the entrance so imperfectly that he easily effected his escape.

A loud cry of 'Victory! victory!' was uttered by the surrounding multitude, and the words 'Brave boys!' 'True Clairmonts!' were many times repeated by the crowd.

'And now let us see after poor Mr. Clairmont,' said Sir William, going up to the carriage, which lay on its side. The two stout gentlemen who had clambered up into the oak, seeing the enemy breathless, had summoned courage to descend, and were trying to pacify and unharness the trembling horses.

'How are you, my dear sir? how are you, Mr. Clairmont?' said the baronet, speaking aloud, not being able to see into the carriage.

'What am I, you mean, nephew,' roared out the old gentleman. 'Why I am a perfect mass of blanc-mange, bruised to a universal pulp.'



'I hope not,' replied the baronet; 'no bones broken, I trust?'

'Bones! I don't think I've such a thing as a bone belonging to me no more than if I had been hermetically sealed in a register-boiler. I tell you I'm nothing but a huge fricandeau; you may cut me in slices, and take me out piecemeal.'

'I am happy to hear you are in a state to make merry with your misfortunes, my dear sir,' rejoined Sir William; 'but, seriously, how shall we manage to get you out?'

'The tiger is dead as Napoleon, uncle, and lies at the feet of your favourite Apicius,' said William.

'And the horses are taken off,' added the baronet; 'but I fear the raising of the carriage to assist your descending cannot be effected without giving you some more severe jolting. Where is your valet? Perhaps he can help you if the coach-door be got open. Melange,' cried Mr. Clairmont, 'are you dead or stupid?'

'Ni l'un ni l'autre, monsieur,' replied the servant doggedly.

'Then pray bestir yourself, and get me out of this miserable ruin. Don't you hear them say the tiger is killed? Why do you stay sprawling here looking as ghastly as if he were grinning at you in all his glory?'

Melange began to move.

'There now,' said his master, 'you have set your foot on the bottle in the side-pocket; there it goes—a bottle of my finest claret!'

Melange popped his head over the perpendicular floor of the carriage, and seeing the tiger positively dead he sprang out with great facility, and appeared to have received no other injury than certain indications of culinary luxuries which besprinkled his habit so plentifully as to give his tailor (had he seen it) hopes of an ample order for a refit.

'Well, Melange,' said Sir William, 'what measure are you about to take for your master's relief?'

'The carriage must be unpacked, Sir William,' said the valet consequentially, 'and then monsieur may be raised so gently as not to suffer any farther inconvenience.'

He then, with the assistance of his two fellow-servants, removed all the packages from the boot, etc., etc., and by the help of the numerous bystanders propped up the carriage, and assisted his master to descend, the skirts of whose coat bore evident marks of the course the claret had taken when it escaped from its imprisonment in the flask, while his trousers and stockings appeared to have been liberally complimented with Ude's delicious consomme at the moment of the grand squash.

Lady Clairmont, having seen all from the observatory, had sent a sofa and pillows for her uncle's accommodation, which arrived at this moment, and the baronet, with Mr. Stanhope's aid, placed the old gentleman upon it in a state of comparative comfort, the boys trying to arrange the cushions and pillows for him, while an air of good-humoured contempt mingled with their assiduities.

'Ah, my poor friend, Apicius,' he exclaimed on seeing the dying horse panting beside the prostrate destroyer, 'nothing can be done for you, I see. Lead him away if possible, and put him out of his pain as mercifully as you can. Fine creature. I cannot bear to look at him; he little thought, when he pranced off so stately yesterday morning, that he was coming to feed the hounds at Clairmont, and a tit-bit they will find him; he's in capital condition. Pray let him be taken away.'

'I think we had better take care of you first, dear sir,' said his nephew, 'but I fear you will not find a dinner to your taste this evening. There will be two dishes minus at least, for we did not expect you till to-morrow, the eighteenth—the day you named.'

'Ha, that was an unlucky mistake of Melange which we found out too late. He put the paper before me and dated the letter; but, however, as things have turned out it is of no consequence. I shall take no dinner to-day, but some pearl-sago, enriched with a good dash of old Jamaica. You must let me have a warm bath, nephew, and bid them put me to bed directly, and in two or three days, perhaps, all will be set to rights. Hope Lady Clairmont and all your family are well. How do you do, Mr. Stanhope? Excuse me, I can't pretend to see anybody for the next eight-and-forty hours. By this management I, perhaps, may escape a fit of the gout, which has certainly received a most pressing invitation to take intire possession of me, even on the very heels of the dog-days. Ha, William, how are you, my boy? and dear Freddy, how are you? How wonderfully you are both grown. No need to inquire if you are well; you must have been playing a capital knife and fork this last year, young gentlemen, but that's not surprising; you live in clover here at old Clairmont as usual. Fat Scotch cattle and black-faced sheep in the meadows, and a crowd of noble bucks in the park.'

'Et les poissons,' said Melange, edging in his remark as he stood making some arrangement required by his master. 'Les jolis poissons qui s'eleveront de temps hors l'eau, pour dire a leur facon vous etes les bienvenus, Messieurs, nous aurons l'honneur de vous regaler. Ah, c'etait un coup d'oeil ravissant.'

The boys laughed aloud, and Mr. Stanhope could hardly preserve his gravity, but Sir William gave Melange a look that seemed a deathblow to his flippancy, for he moved off directly to the care of his jars and hampers.

'And your pheasants, how are they? Suppose you have had grouse this fortnight? However, for fear of the worst, I've brought a few brace. Are your partridges lovable? But I forgot; you never disturb them till next month. But I should not dare to touch them if you could set me down to a covey just now; my stomach would take it fearfully amiss if I were to call upon it for any service at present, after all the bumpings and thumpings it has just suffered. But stay, before they carry me off I should like to ascertain the extent of the mischief we have sustained. Melange, get into the carriage and examine the contents of the sword-case and all the little private recesses. What a ruin it is!'

The valet skipped in.

'Well, is the curacoa safe?'

'No, sir, the bottle is smashed to atoms.'

'Not a drop left?'

'Not a drop, monsieur.'

'Well, it was a liquor fit for the gods, and George the Fourth—made after old Goddard's recipe. His late Majesty used to say he never tasted any so excellent. And my "Treatise on the Wines of the Ancients," where is it?'

'Here, sir'—holding it up outside the coach-door.

'Actually seasoned with sardines; not a page legible, I fear. And there's the "Cook's Oracle," dumb as a fish, drowned in claret, and a new edition of "Ude" soaked, I'm aware, in one of his own delicious consommes. This is sad work, indeed! And the glaze?'

'Smashed, monsieur.'

'Oh, ruin upon ruin! Best portable soup in the kingdom! Only three men in England can make it. However, Melange is one of the three. The edible nests[B] and the Strasburg livers?'

'Quite safe, sir.'

'The potted char, and the Scotch laver? The limes, and the olives, and the dravolinas?'

'Tout est a merveille, monsieur.'

'Then how have my medicines fared?'

'They were put in the boot with the ginger, the parmesan, the Westphalia hams, and the reindeer tongues,' said Melange.

'Now then, come down and see if the colchicum sherry, l'eau medicinale, gout mixture, cogniac, vespetro, noyau, and old Jamaica are safe.'

Melange examined, and reported, 'Perfectly safe, sir.'

'And the lachryma christi, Hermitage hock, and tokay, with the West India sweetmeats?'

'All right.'

'Well, 'tis an untoward business enough, but it might have been worse, nephew,' said Mr. Clairmont, consoled to think all his hampers were in a sound state.

'True, sir,' replied Sir William, 'infinitely worse. You have escaped broken bones, and out of four horses have lost only one.'

'Then are all the rest safe and sound, coachman?' asked his master.

'Quite well, sir, only terribly frightened, like some of us,' replied the man, smiling on one side of his face, and blushing as well as he could on the other, 'but life is sweet to us all, and who would not have run away from that frightful beast?' looking at the tiger.

'What a beautiful animal it was!' said Mr. Stanhope to William.

'Very beautiful indeed, sir,' replied William, 'and if I were rich I would buy its coat, and make a present of it to mother for a hearthrug.'

'A very good thought, my boy,' said Mr. Clairmont, 'and you shall have it, if it is to be sold.'

'Are you the proprietor of this unfortunate animal?' said the baronet.

'I am, sir,' said one of the three men who were standing guard over the dead tiger, and waiting for an opportunity to ask the baronet for the loan of a cart to convey it to the town where their caravan was waiting.

'What do you ask for the skin?' demanded Mr. Clairmont.

The man named his price, and the demand, though somewhat exorbitant, was complied with, greatly to the satisfaction of the two youths, who were anxious to have it in the family as a memento of this, to them, important day. Sir William then ordered the tiger to be conveyed to the butchery, and uncoated preparatory to the operation the currier would have to perform on the skin previous to its exhibition in the dining-room.

'Well, now, my good Melange,' said Mr. Clairmont, beckoning him to come near, and whispering coaxingly, 'you will see all our valuables safe before you leave them.'

'Sans doute, monsieur, n'ayez pas peur, I have sent Foster on to the house for a cart, and shall have everything conveyed to that apartment you are accustomed to occupy. Of course we shall be there?'

'Are we to have our old lodgings, nephew?' said Mr. Clairmont.

'If you please, sir,' replied the baronet; 'your bedroom is as usual in the west angle, on the ground floor, close to the bath, which is the situation you have always preferred.'

'Ha, thank you, that is comfortable. You hear, Melange?'

'Oui, monsieur.'

'And now, nephew, if your carriers be ready say the word, and let us be moving, for I begin to feel terribly stiff and awkward in the sinews, and shall be right glad to find myself in a steaming bath. Don't forget,' added he to his servant, 'the gout-stool and the moxa, and all necessary for a good shampooing, and remember to have the sago ready for me on coming out of the bath. Now make haste, for here comes the cart. Be alive, Foster, as you were when you clambered up the oak like a squirrel.'

'My valet shall attend you till Melange has made his arrangements,' said Sir William. 'No doubt your apartments are in perfect order by this time; so come, chairmen, take up the sofa, and go gently.'

The men began their march, and the baronet walked on at a brisk pace to apprise Lady Clairmont that the whole family had a respite of eight-and-forty hours.

Mr. Stanhope and his pupils lingered behind, walking on very slowly till the men were out of hearing with their burden, and William then exclaimed:

'Go, you genuine sybarite! Uncle of mine, I would not accept the gift of all your estates if your gourmandizing be entailed on them.'

'Neither would I,' said his brother. 'It is impossible for a man to be a more devoted slave to his appetite than our great-uncle Geff. The slave of the ring in the Arabian Nights' Entertainments had a holiday life of it in comparison. Perhaps it is wrong to say it, but really I feel quite disgusted with him. As father truly says, "All his conversation has reference to the sustenation of his insatiable maw," and we shall all be glad when this animal infliction is over.'

'Gourmandizing,' said Mr. Stanhope, 'is indeed a vice which fearfully degrades a man from the rank he was born to hold as a rational being, and I trust you will never either of you be under the dominion of such a tyrant.'

'We should both of us,' said William, 'revolt at the idea of being an object of contempt to others, such as Uncle Geff is now to us.'

'That's plain English,' replied Frederick, 'but not the most polite thing to say of one's venerable great uncle, brother Bill, and who has, moreover, just now given you that superb tiger's skin.'

'The fear of the world's contempt,' said Mr. Stanhope, 'though salutary, ought not to influence our conduct so much as the consciousness that, while excess clogs our intellects, we become incapable of the virtuous exertions we might otherwise make, and that of the talents we have thus smothered we must one day render an account.'

'And yet there are, I have heard, some men of great abilities and eminent virtue who are said to eat enormously,' said Frederick.

'True,' replied the tutor, 'extreme hunger is, in some constitutions, a rapid effect of intense study, and the appetite may be innocently gratified while it rather adds to the impetus of thought than checks its advance. Excess begins when the perceptions become weak and indistinct by indulgence. Every person is able to judge for himself when he approaches that point, and, if he respect himself, he will stop short of it. Such men as those to whom you allude feel renovated by their meal, and return to their intellectual pursuits with increased alacrity, but the veritable gourmand divides his existence between the contemplation of what his dinner shall be, the pleasure of eating, and the labour of digesting it.'

'It is very odd in Uncle Geff to bring his eatables and his cook to Clairmont. I wonder father will suffer it. What a larder this modern Lucullus carries about with him!' said Frederick.

'Why, father has indulged him in the practice so many years that I suppose he does not think it worth his while to set his face against it now,' replied William. 'Besides, Melange is a superb cook. Sheldon finds it his interest to keep well with him, and gets into many of his culinary mysteries, of which father reaps the benefit when he is obliged to give great dinners. As to the Frenchman himself, it is easy to see he is the master of his master, and holds him fast by the stomach, as it were, by a talisman.'

'What an honourable bondage for a man who is proud of his descent from men who were hand and glove with the conqueror,' said Frederick, laughing.

A servant now came out upon the lawn to say tea had been waiting some time. The youths and their tutor hastened to the drawing-room, when William and his brother were congratulated on the fortunate issue of their rencounter with the tiger. Their gentle mother shed a tear of joy as she kissed the cheek of each darling child, and the dowager expressed herself happy at seeing they had proved themselves worthy descendants of the Clairmonts.

'Emily,' said she to her grand-daughter in the joy of her heart, 'what do you think of your brothers now? Do you not think they will indeed prove an honour to the family, and realize in their manhood all the anticipations of youth? For my part, I feel so much obliged to our grand-dame Cicely Dewberry at the present moment, that I can hardly find words to express myself in due terms; that task I shall, therefore, leave to you.'

Emily coloured at this remark, but, after a pause, replied:

'I am so much pleased that my brothers have acquitted themselves with honour that I am equally at a loss for words with your ladyship.'

The evening passed most agreeably, and the conversation was animated and interesting from the topics the occurrences of the day gave birth to. As for Lady Clairmont, she was, indeed, greatly pleased with the present of her new hearthrug, and Sir William ordered the body of the tiger to be deposited under the oak in which the servants had found shelter, saying that, some time or other, he might probably put down on that spot some solid memento of the event.

FOOTNOTES:

[B] The nest of a bird found in the southern latitudes, considered a delicacy by the natives, particularly by European epicures.



The Butcher's Tournament

Marmaduke Mumbles was the son of a worthy butcher in the village town of Scrambles.

He was an only son, and as such, of course, petted by his father and spoiled by his mother.

Mrs. Mumbles had been in early life a lady's-maid, and, while in her waiting upon the Honourable Miss Languish, was employed not so much in millinery as novel reading, which she used to read to her young lady from morning till night, and from night till morning.

The tales which took the fancy of the Honourable Miss Languish, and which were echoed from the mouth and mind of Miss Squeamish were those of 'high romance,' as it is termed. Young, handsome, virtuous, and valiant heroes going through more wonderful adventures than our poor Mosette in her nine lives, and poor Neddy Bray in his, I do not know how many.

Then there must be, to please these novel readers, extraordinary situations, wonderful incidents, perplexing difficulties, overwhelming disasters, strange providences, and miraculous escapes, together with a proper assemblage of old castles, ruined tombs, yawning cloisters, grim vaults, mouldering coffins, unearthly sounds, awful visitations, spiritual appearances; ghosts in white sheets, with bleeding bosoms: hobgoblins with saucer eyes, fierce claws, and long tails; and catastrophes so tremendous as to set the hair on end, and convulse the whole frame with the delight of tenor, and the tenor of delight.

Such was the food of Miss Squeamish, afterwards Mrs. Mumbles, in her early days.

And she used to read and read and read till she looked upon the world in which she had to get her living as no world of hers, but a sort of common sphere made on purpose for tradespeople, washer-women, and cart-driving. She revelled in a world of the romances, where everything was made as it ought to be, where the virtuous were always rewarded and the wicked always punished, where high and noble sentiments met with the reception they deserved, and disinterestedness was duly appreciated, where passion and impulse, unmixed with the care of consequences, were held as the glory of both sexes, and everything that was fair and bright and beautiful, and free and elegant and good, shone triumphantly to the glory of the heroes and heroines who figured always so splendidly in these romantic pages.

But at last all these bright visions were to end. Miss Languish died of a consumption brought on from lying in bed night and morning to read novels. And Miss Squeamish, afterwards Mrs. Mumbles, was forced to turn out into the world to seek her living—into that very world which was so odious to her. But there was no resource, and so the lady who had been identified with so many heroines was obliged to set up as a milliner and dressmaker in the little town of Scrambles.

But the poor young woman soon found out that things were carried on in this world in a manner radically different from that in which the romances pictured. She soon found out that mutton was eightpence halfpenny a pound, and that if she did not look well after her butcher she would find her pound and a half of mutton chops weighing not quite a pound and a quarter; that bread was ten-pence a loaf, and that the baker was no more romantic than the butcher, and would, unless he was checked every day, find means to put down a 'dead one'; and that the milkman's chalk had got a notch in it, and would make two strokes instead of one. In short, that there was at the bottom of this best of all possible worlds a vast amount of sheer roguery.

The consequence of Miss Squeamish's want of a knowledge of all this was that she soon found out the impossibility of being able to make things come together—'to make ends meet'—as the saying is.

She floundered about in her business for a year or two, but grew poorer and poorer, got in debt largely with her grocer, baker, and butcher, and at last was obliged to stop for want of funds.

But it is an old proverb that 'when one door shuts another opens,' and this was the only part of Miss Squeamish's philosophy which had ever come true. No sooner was her shop shut up than the bills came in, and with Mrs. Shambles' bill the copy of a writ, so that Miss Squeamish was on the high road to a prison. But fortune sometimes favours those who will not favour themselves, and it somehow or other happened that Miss Squeamish pleaded so eloquently for herself and her destitute situation with Mr. Mumbles, the very fat butcher and her principal creditor, that he agreed to cancel his debt and pay the others on condition that Miss Squeamish would become Mrs. Mumbles.

And Mrs. Mumbles she did become. For Mr. Mumbles was very rich, and although in person he was not very imposing he made up in quantity for what he wanted in quality, and the prospect of plenty of meat and a good name to one destitute of either had such an effect on Miss Squeamish as to put to flight all her visionary ideas of perfection—love in a cottage and platonic affection—and she settled down, in appearance at least, as a very spruce butcher's wife, and took to caps, aprons, and blue ribands.

Mr. Mumbles was a thrifty man, and had been so all his life. He was about fifty years of age, and not disposed to alter his habits, but he required Mrs. Mumbles to alter hers. He proceeded, therefore, to give his worthy spouse some initiatory instructions in the art of jointing a scrag of mutton, cutting out a pluck, or chinning a whole sheep upon an occasion. This was very different from novel reading. She had, indeed, read of knights cleaving their adversaries from the 'chaps to the chine,' and of 'sticking to the heart,' and sometimes fancied, as she made a blow upon some unfortunate leg of mutton, which required shanking, that this would she do to the Knight of the Black Visage, or the cruel Tyrant of the Bloody Tower, or the Renegades of the Cross, or any other anti-hero, so that it might be said romance was scotched in her, not killed, as we shall hear in the sequel.

After Miss Squeamish became Mrs. Mumbles she determined to endeavour to 'civilize' her husband, as she called it. It did not follow because he was a butcher that he was to have butchering ideas for ever, or that he was to know nothing of 'literature,' as she termed it—that is, novels. Mr. Mumbles had read 'Puss in Boots,' 'Jack the Giant Killer,' 'Tom Thumb,' 'Jack and the Bean Stalk,' 'Whittington and his Cat,' and 'Mother Goose' in his childhood. In his boyhood he had gone through 'Robinson Crusoe,' 'The Pilgrim's Progress,' and 'The Seven Champions of Christendom,' and therefore knew there was something in the world besides scrags of mutton.

Having made these discoveries Mrs. Mumbles was determined to put her husband under regular training, to win him, by degrees, from his boorish estate to that of poetry and refinement. She looked at his unwieldy bulk—it was not exactly the size for a hero, but then she thought of bluff Harry the Eighth, who was both stout and romantic, and the Field of the Cloth of Gold, and so as Mr. Mumbles became romantic she made up her mind to put up with his stoutness.

Mr. Mumbles had no other relaxation on a summer's evening than a game of bowls, but as his fat increased so did his difficulty of playing this noble game. He used to think that once down it would require something more than the levers of his legs to lift him up again. So just as Mr. Mumbles had made up his mind within himself to leave off bowls did Mrs. Mumbles think of making him a hero outright. But she went cautiously about her work. She knew that to change the man she must first change the mind, and therefore she commenced her operations upon the mental part of Mr. Mumbles.

Her first thought was as to the kind of hero she was to train him into. She would not like him to be a 'Jack Sheppard,' for fear he might break into some lady's heart with a crowbar of his impudence. Nor would she like him to be a 'Eugene Aram,' for fear he should make a mistake and hang her some night instead of himself. He seemed fitter for a 'Jack Falstaff' than anything else. But Falstaff was too witty for a hero, and she thought, perhaps, that if he laughed any more he would be only so much the fatter.

She therefore put into his hands the most sentimental exotics of the publishing firms. There was the 'Elegant Maniac; or, the Snuff-coloured Rose and the Field of Silver,' a beautiful romance. Then there was the 'Sentimental Footpad; or, Honour among Thieves.' And 'Syngenesia,' the last of the melancholies; with the 'Knight of the Snorting Palfrey; or, the Silken Fetlock.' These works she read to Mr. Mumbles on evenings instead of suffering him to repair to his bowls, and after a short time had the satisfaction to find him a ready and an eager listener. She read and read and read, and he became more and more interested, till at last he could scarcely find time to serve a customer if one happened to come in when the hero was in some 'interesting situation.'

And so Mr. Mumbles began to find his business decline, for at last he would have his novel in his hand on a Saturday night, and would ask his customers concerning this or that book, which he happened to have been reading during the week. He would forget to joint the loins of mutton, to pickle the stale beef, to send out his orders; in short, his customers were treated with such neglect that his trade, long vacillating between going on and going off, suddenly stopped.

Nor did Mr. Mumbles care a whit for it, as he was rich when his father died, had grown richer since, and was worth at least ten thousand pounds in houses, lands, and money. He would soon have given up his business had it not given up him, and therefore when somebody told him it was time to 'shut up shop,' he said: 'Yes, and I intend to do it.'

Suiting the action to the word he forthwith began to retire. All the beasts and beastesses were sold off with the goodwill of the shop, the blocks, cleavers, hooks, and jemmies. And Mr. Mumbles planned out a house in a secluded spot about a mile from the town. It was to be called Mumbles Castle, and was to be built in the old English or baronial style, with turrets, low doors, battlements, arch windows, and gothic mouldings. The grand hall was twenty feet by fifteen, the armoury half the size, the refectory fourteen by fourteen. A long passage leading to the adjacent pigsties was called the corridor, and the bedchambers, four in number, were dignified with the names of the griffin room, the martlet, the rampant lion, and the wild boar, such being a part of the newly-formed armorial bearing of the Mumbles.

The adjacent grounds were also laid out in a style corresponding with the castle. There was, among other arrangements for the comfort and delight of visitors, a tournament court, an archery ground, and a hawking mound. Certainly they were not of very extraordinary dimensions, but they were rather beyond the general scale of the other parts of the building. Mrs. Mumbles had in contemplation to give a grand fete of some kind or other. Mumbles talked of the house-warming, but that was vulgar. But at last, to ease all difficulties on this score, Master Marmaduke Tristram St. George Mumbles was born.

When it was ascertained that provision for a baby was necessary Mr. Mumbles determined that everything should be conducted according to the established laws of chivalry. But having searched in vain among romances to find how such matters were managed, he gave up the matter in despair. He found that all romances having come to a marriage suddenly stopped. This was very perplexing, but there was no help for it, and as Master Marmaduke was in a hurry to come into the world he was born before his father and mother could arrange the solemn order of the proceedings.

But both Mr. and Mrs. Mumbles were determined that the christening should be conducted upon a scale of all conceivable splendour. There was no precedent for it, but then there was less likelihood of any mistake or more room for the fancy. But a gothic christening it was to be—a gothic christening it should be—a gothic christening it must be.

And what would redound to the glory of so mighty an event? This was the consideration, this was the feat to be achieved. Mr. and Mrs. Mumbles had many a discourse upon the subject at breakfast, dinner, and supper, at morning, noon, and night, but still the happy idea was too good to strike them suddenly.

At last Mrs. Mumbles had a dream. She dreamed of a tournament, and of all the glory of such an event. Polished helms, furbished arms, clang of trumpets, waving of banners and plumes, clouds of dust, clash of swords, unhorsing of knights, and outcry of heralds. When she awoke, she said emphatically to Mr. Mumbles, as he was beginning to take his morning yawn: 'I've hit it'; and gave him a sharp stroke on his wigless pate.

'I think you have,' said Mr. Mumbles, 'and I would thank you not to hit quite so hard. But what do you mean, my dear Celestia?'

'Mean,' replied the delighted spouse—'mean that I have hit upon a plan for doing honour to the birth of our son and heir, of the propagator of the glory of our house, and of the renowned name of Mumbles.'

'Have you, by gowls?' said Mr. Mumbles. 'What is it?'

'A tournament,' said she, 'a tournament, that glory of the chivalric ages; will it not be gloriously delightful to see once more "the light of other days" upon us? To see those battlements decked with the banners of the house of Mumbles, to hear the clarion ring, to listen to the strains of martial music, to see the lounge and thrust and anvil blow, knights unhorsed, armour riven, helms cloven.'

'It would be a good go,' said Mr. Mumbles.

'A good go; it would be a go and three-quarters—at least, according to your own phraseology. I think myself truly happy at having been blessed with such a revelation, and pray that I may be strengthened to perform my part of the ceremony.'

'And what may that be?' said Mr. Mumbles.

'Why of course I must be the queen of beauty, and you must be my king consort. The knights, having arranged themselves, must, first of all, pay their respects to me, and then the victor must kneel before me, and receive from my hands the richly-embroidered scarf and the crowning garland.'

'Well, it will be a grand day—an epoch in my existence—a sort of hera. I think they call it a hera. And if we could get the band of the Scrambles Volunteer Company it would be excellent; if not, I think I know some music that would suit.'

'What is that?' inquired Mrs. Mumbles.

'The marrow-bones and cleavers; they are very pretty music, and I should like them, band or no band.'

'The marrow-bones and cleavers,' said Mrs. Mumbles in astonishment.

'Yes,' said Mr. Mumbles, 'it was my glory when I was a boy, and we used to have them all rung at christenings and weddings. I have heard say that at my christening and at my mother's marriage they rang a treble bob-major.'

'And pray, what is a bob-major?' inquired Mrs. Mumbles. 'I have heard of a serjeant-major and a drum-major, but never heard of a bob-major.'

'A bob-major,' rejoined the elated butcher, 'is a long tune, that puzzles you to know when you will get to the end of it, and so you stand and wait and wait, till at last, all of a sudden, it stops.'

'And how does it go, my dear? Is it a pretty tune?'

'I should think it was a pretty tune—like the church bells, only more cutting, as it might be expected, from its coming from cleavers. It has made me cry like a child, Mrs. Mumbles.'

'I hope it won't make baby cry.'

'I hope not; but, cry or no cry, we must have it, and any other music you like.'

This point being settled the ardent pair began to prepare, with the greatest alacrity, for the forthcoming fete.

Mrs. Mumbles declared that no expense should be spared to make the proceedings go off with eclat, and Mr. Mumbles began to fidget himself concerning the tournament laws, rules, and regulations.

The principal difficulty was, however, in inducing others to take a part in this strange whim. Had it been bull-baiting or badger-drawing or cock-throwing or horse and donkey racing, hundreds would have been found ready to engage in the sport. But for a tournament! Most people did not even know the name of it, and Mr. Mumbles' description was in no way calculated to elucidate its mysteries, so that few seemed to care about lending themselves to the fete.

There was, however, in the town of Scrambles a sharp dapper lawyer's clerk, who saw at once into the affair and what a frolic it might be made. He therefore wrote a civil note to Mr. Mumbles, in which he expressed his delight at the forthcoming novelty, and offered himself as a candidate for the white silken scarf which was to be the reward of the victor in the field.

The letter being couched in chivalric language, and ornamented with armorial bearings, delighted Mr. and Mrs. Mumbles above all things. They now felt a prospect of the realization of their fondest hopes, and began to prepare accordingly. The lawyer's clerk, whose name was Quiddity, also set about publishing the whole of the matter abroad. He soon succeeded in inducing a number of young men and maidens to favour the joke, and to lend themselves to it. He explained the insane folly of this worthy pair with such irresistible drollery that everyone was eager to be one of the favoured company.

On the next interview Mr. Mumbles, delighted with the report of Quiddity, addressed him with truly dignified solemnity.

'Sir Knight,' said he, 'thou hast done thy spirit gently. Thy wondrous works have found favour in mine eyes; be thou our warden from this time, and for evermore.'

'With leave to thrust or lance,' said Quiddity; 'for I would not forego a rencontre for the lord-wardenship of the cinque ports.'

'Sink me if you shall not tilt with me rather than that you should not display your prowess. On the morning of that auspicious day will I dissolve thee from the wardenship, and give thee freedom to thy knighthood. I will, with my own hands, buckle on thy armour, with my right hand place a spear in thy grasp, and with my left salute thee.'

'And for me,' said Mrs. Mumbles, 'I will choose thee for my own dear knight, and thou shalt fight under my banner, and be victorious; and then, when thou resist from the field of glory, will I embrace thee, and thou shalt be the envy of all beholders.'

'We'll stow that,' said Mr. Mumbles, who did not appear to like the embracing part of the ceremony. 'But let us now form a committee of ways and means—that is to say, let us concoct the thing in a regular manner.'

And so the three concoctors sat down to arrange the order of the proceedings.

'And, first and foremost,' said Mr. Mumbles, 'we must have seats raised round the tilting coast, and a platform built at one end. Then at the other end must be a barrier for the knights to come in at; and then we must have a long pole straight across the ground, to prevent the horses falling foul of each other; and then we must have flags at different stations, charged with the armorial bearings of the knights, with their crests on the top of them.'

'And then,' said Mrs. Mumbles, taking up the same strain, 'we must begin to think of dresses. For my part, I shall wear a white satin robe, trimmed with silver lilies, and a scarf of azure blue, richly embroidered with gold. Seven ostrich plumes shall wave from my brow; a lion's skin shall be spread for my feet; all my jewels shall be displayed to the best advantage; and I think I shall, upon the whole, be pretty considerably imposing. As to Mr. Mumbles, I intend to have him dressed in a manner which shall be unique, imposing, and captivating.'

'We will first draw out a programme of the proceedings,' said Quiddity, 'and then we can select the various personages who are to be honoured with having a part in the ceremony.'

'Good,' said Mr. Mumbles.

'And I shall head it the "Mumblonian Tournament," and publish a challenge to all the world to deny the peerless beauty of Mrs. Mumbles.'

'But won't that be coming it rather strong? I should like you to draw it pretty mild,' ejaculated Mr. Mumbles.

'Not a bit too strong,' said Mrs. Mumbles, with a toss of her head. 'Go on, pray, Mr. Quiddity.'

So Mr. Quiddity went on:

'And then, of course, we should find persons sending in their defiance, and extolling other dames, and therefore we should have all our knights, squires, horses, armour, and so on.'

'But must we not publish regulations afterwards?' observed Mumbles.

'Of course we must. That is to say, every knight who professes his readiness to break a lance must provide himself with horse, weapons, and esquire, and send in his certificate of noble blood and knightly bearing.'

'But where shall we place the proclamation?'

'On the doors of the church, certainly; upon the "cage"; upon the "pound"; and other public institutions of our country.'

'Good,' said Mr. Mumbles; 'I like to honour the institutions of my country, and therefore I would not have forgotten the parish pump.'

'Certainly not, my dear sir. Well, then, we must apply to the schoolmaster to let us have, on hire, the boys and girls of the national schools to walk in order before the procession, with silver wands in their hands and blue ribands in their hats, while the girls should be dressed all in white like nymphs, and strew flowers.'

'Capital,' said Mr. Mumbles; 'and then we can give them a tuck-out with rolls and treacle; won't the boys like it—ay, and the girls too! Lawks! how I did laugh once to see girls eat rolls and treacle! They beat the boys out and out at that fun. They dabbed the treacle into each other's eyes, and roped it over each other's shoulders, and swung it into each other's faces, like good 'uns. There is nothing like girls for a spree; when they do begin, they beat the boys hollow.'

'Well, then,' continued Quiddity, 'I thought of hiring for a day the old workhouse women, to act as matrons or sibyls, as the case may be. They will be a pretty contrast to the "gals." And, that they may not cry out, we will treat them all to a pound of snuff apiece, and a new dress.'

'And a red brocade petticoat each, and a Margaret of Anjou cap or hat.'

'What, one of those with a long poke behind like a rolling-pin, and a veil at the end of it?' said Mr. Mumbles.

'Just so, my dear,' replied the lady; 'and they must have one stocking red and the other blue.'

'Ay, ay,' rejoined Mumbles, with an arch look, 'I know the reason of that; you fancy but for this expedient that in the crowd the old ladies would not otherwise know one leg from the other.'

'You are quite wrong, my dear; but we must follow the ancient costume, you know, or else we shall be laughed at.'

'What shall be next?' said Mr. Quiddity.

'Ay, what next, my dear?' said Mrs. Mumbles, who seemed herself to be got to her wits' end.

'Why, I was thinking, love, that after the old women we should have a bullock, dressed with blue ribands, and garnished with flowers, roasted whole.'

'Yes, upon the green, after the sports,' said Mrs. Mumbles; 'and, as I should like the whole of the ceremony to conclude with a bonfire and a discharge of fireworks, the fire that is to roast the bullock can be kept up, which will be killing two birds with one stone, you know.'

And thus the preliminaries for the grand entertainment were settled by the three who were to be chief actors in it. Quiddity, in the very frolicsomeness of his heart, now canvassed the town, and, with little difficulty, succeeded in bringing a number of persons into the plot or joke; and banners were prepared, armour was provided, and arms of every description brought into requisition.

At last the important day arrived. It was ushered in by a discharge of firearms from the back of the butcher's premises. A squadron of horsemen next paraded the town on horses, ponies, and donkeys, with the marrow-bones and cleavers, and rung most dolorous music. Mr. Mumbles arose from his bed at earliest dawn, and, having breakfasted, set to enrobing himself as a grand grandee of the first order. His dress was of the time of Louis XIV. of France, frilled and furbelowed; and, when fully arranged, Mr. Mumbles looked like a real Prince, and Mrs. Mumbles held up her hands in astonishment and delight.

The back premises of Mr. Mumbles had been already prepared; a rude scaffolding, with seats, skirted three sides of a quadrangle, to which admission was to be obtained for the small charge of one penny, the whole of the proceeds to go to the Institution for the Cure of Rheumatism. The people mustered in large numbers, and, although the tournament joust did not boast of many lords and ladies, or persons of high ancestral lineage, yet everyone was, according to Adamic heraldry, a perfect gentleman or lady in their own right; for they all bore arms, with the exception of Jack Sprat, the bellman, who could only muster one, with which he rang his bell.

In the centre of the platform, at the upper end, was a raised seat, and a canopy over it. The seat was covered with yellow baize, and the canopy was formed of the hangings of Mr. Mumbles' best spare bed. It was red, bordered with yellow, which hung in fanciful festoons, and a richly-carved bed-foot on each gave the whole a very imposing appearance. On this raised seat, which was made to hold two, were placed two armchairs, richly gilt, and around these were other chairs for persons of distinction, who now began to arrive in pretty considerable numbers. First, there was the Grand Master of the Odd Fellows, with a numerous retinue, with their emblematical tools, flags, banners, and devices. He entered the arena amid the clang of trumpets and the roll of drums, and proceeded to the place assigned him. Then came the President of the Anti-Lie-a-Bed Society, with a whole troop of boys and girls who had been cured of this great sin by drinking half a pint of yeast overnight, which made them rise early in the morning. They were received by 'artificial cock-crowing' by the gallant showman, who had a place assigned him as underwarden. Then came a batch of young damsels, all in white, being chimney-sweepers' daughters; and after them a flourish of trumpets—that is, cow-horns—a squadron of costermongers' donkey-lads mounted, with their pocket-handkerchiefs floating from the vulnerable point of 'bean-sticks.'

Next came the redoubtable Mr. Mumbles himself, leading Mrs. Mumbles by the hand, preceded by the young lawyer Quiddity. He ascended the throne provided for him with extraordinary dignity, and, having made a bow to the company by putting his hand to one of his curls, as if to pull his head down, and giving a scrape with his foot behind, the whole assembly burst out with a simultaneous cheer—'Mumbles for ever! Mumbles for ever!'

Soon after Mr. Mumbles had seated himself the clang of trumpets was heard, and Quiddity appeared on a splendid pony, richly caparisoned, with a hearthrug under his saddle as a saddle-cloth, having in one hand his baton of office, and in the other a banner. After making his obeisance to the king and queen of the tournament, Mrs. and Mr. Mumbles, he took his place in the centre. Immediately the horns were blown, the mob shouted, and Quiddity read the following proclamation:

'To all whom it may concern, and to our beloved Neighbours, greeting,

'With a view to do away with and put down the cowardly, dastardly, and ungenteel sports of bull-baiting, badger-baiting, fox-hunting, pigeon-shooting, and other wicked and cruel amusements, we, John Mumbles and Co., King of Chivalry, Grand Master of this Tournament, invite all persons, gentlemen born, to engage in, and others to witness, trials of skill, might, prowess, and magnanimity by means of tilt, combat, or archery, and all those knights who have been enrolled as true knights, worthy to try their prowess in the tilts, are hereby invited to do so without fee or reward, fear or distinction.

'GOD SAVE THE QUEEN.'

'Hurrah! hurrah!' said everybody, and then arose the flapping of white pocket-handkerchiefs, the waving of flags, the sounding of horns, and the beating of drums. The arena was cleared by Sam Swipes with a long cart-whip, and opposite to each other, by separate entrances, appeared the first two knights who were to engage—(1) The Knight of the Boiling Fish-kettle, (2) The Knight of the Red-hot Copper. The Knight of the Boiling Fish-kettle was armed with a splendid helmet of polished metal, something resembling a double block-tin dish-cover, No. 3 on the bottom; at the top was inverted a red-boiled lobster for a crest, over which hung in graceful curves three black cats' tails duly charged with electricity. A large pewter-dish formed the breast-plate of this knight, while his arms and thighs were plated with bands of tin, which had an exceedingly martial appearance. The shield of the knight was the lid of the fish-kettle, a broad oblong defence, upon which was painted the device of a leg of pork, with the motto 'Porkus est miceabus.' The lance-pole of this knight was a clothes-prop, at the end of which a pepper-box was duly fixed instead of a lance.

The Knight of the Copper was also mounted on a steed; it was of a reddish-brown, and for his saddle-cloth he had chosen a rich damask table-cover, which nearly covered the whole body of the animal. He had on his head a copper cake-mould in the shape of a porcupine. His breast-plate was a richly-figured japanned waiter. His armour consisted of muffin-tins fixed over his arms and legs, his crest was a 'scalded cat,' and his shield a copper-lid of wood. The copper-lid was painted green, and it had for its device a calve's head, with a lemon in its mouth, with the motto, 'Calve's head is best hot.'

The knights being set in due array and in proper position, at the sound of the herald's trumpets spurred their nags, and went towards each other with the velocity of lightning. At the first assault the pepper-box was dashed to pieces against the copper-lid, and the fractured fragments clattered about the combatants. The next charge upset the Knight of the Boiling Fish-kettle and his Rosinante at the same time, and both lay wallowing on the ground. Mr. Mumbles on this rose from his seat, and the Knight of the Red-hot Copper made his appearance on the throne or platform, where, kneeling down, he received at the hands of Mrs. Mumbles a beautiful white silken scarf, while the assembly shouted, the drums beat, and the trumpets sounded.



How long this foolery would have gone on I know not, but just as the ceremony was being performed of investing the conqueror knight with the silken scarf a loud cracking was heard under the platform. Mr. Mumbles looked red, Mrs. Mumbles looked pale, the company stood aghast, the music ceased, the uproar was quelled, and the applause subsided. Crack, snap, bang! What was the matter? The fireworks placed underneath the scaffolding, and which were to have concluded the evening's entertainments, had by some means or other ignited. Presently a rocket with a loud roar made a sweep in a slanting direction through the canvas at the top of the canopy, to the consternation of all. Before the alarm subsided, and before anyone could make his or her escape by flight, another and another rocket rushed from beneath the scaffolding with prodigious roar and flame. The alarm became general; Mrs. Mumbles fainted; Mr. Mumbles roared out 'Fire, fire!' as loud as he was able. But now the indiscriminate ignition of rockets, crackers, squibs, Catherines, fiery fountains, flaming cascades, sparkling arbours, and gunpowder and nitre pillars, and suns, stars, and comets enveloped the whole throne and its appurtenances in a blaze of fiery splendour. Rockets shot out on every side, fiery squibs ran along the ground, Catherine wheels danced on every shoulder, and crackers banged at every heel. Such a scene of confusion followed as is seldom witnessed. Knights in armour tumbled over their own steeds, donkeys ran snorting about, ladies shrieked, and fell over gentlemen, and gentlemen tumbled over ladies in pell-mell havoc and confusion, amid smoke and steam and hissing and cracking and banging and roaring.

It was with the greatest difficulty that Mr. and Mrs. Mumbles were extricated from the danger that threatened them—namely, being burnt alive. But Mrs. Mumbles was carried home in a wheelbarrow in a state of insensibility, while Mr. Mumbles had the same attention bestowed upon him through the intervention of a well-disposed hurdle and four of the marrow-bone and cleaver musicians.

Such was the untoward end of the Mumblonian tournament, an event not to be easily forgotten in the locality in which it took place. It was subsequently found out, as it ought to have been discovered before, that both Mr. and Mrs. Mumbles had driven themselves mad by novel and romance reading, and they were both obliged to be sent to a madhouse for some time before they could be cured of their egregious folly. But as they were cured, it may be said that the circumstances which I have related were 'all for the best.'



Malleville's Night of Adventure

I

The Story of Agnes

In a few minutes Beechnut returned with a large rocking-chair, which he placed by the fire, on one side. He then took Malleville in his arms, and carried her to the chair, and sat down. Next he asked Phonny to go out into the entry, and look by the side of the door, and to bring in what he should find there.

'What is it?' said Malleville.

'You will see,' replied Beechnut. So saying, he placed Malleville in his lap in such a position that she could see the door and the fire. Her head rested upon a small pillow which Beechnut had laid upon his shoulder. By the time that Malleville was thus placed, Phonny came back. He had in his hand a small sheet-iron pan, with three large and rosy apples in it. Beechnut directed Phonny to put this pan down upon the hearth where the apples would roast.

'Who are they for?' asked Malleville.

'One is for you,' replied Beechnut, 'one for Phonny, and one for me. But we are not going to eat them till to-morrow morning.'

'There ought to be one for Hepzibah,' said Malleville.

'Why, Hepzibah can get as many apples as she wants,' said Beechnut, 'and roast them whenever she pleases. Only,' he continued, after a moment's pause, 'perhaps it would please her to have us remember her, and roast her one together with ours.'

'Yes,' said Phonny. 'I think it would.'

'Then,' said Beechnut, 'you may go, Phonny, and get her an apple. You can make room for one more upon the pan.'

'Well,' said Phonny, 'but you must not begin the story until I come back.'

So Phonny went away to get an apple for Hepzibah. In a short time he returned, bringing with him a very large and beautiful apple, which he put upon the pan with the rest. There was just room for it. He then set the pan down before the fire, and took his own seat in the little rocking-chair, which still stood in its place by the side of the light-stand.

'Now, Beechnut,' said he, as soon as he was seated, 'now for the story.'

'What sort of story shall I tell you, Malleville?' asked Beechnut. 'Shall it be the plain truth, or shall it be embellished?'

'Embellished,' said Malleville. 'I wish you would embellish it as much as ever you can.'

'Well,' said Beechnut, 'I will tell you about Agnes.'

'Agnes!' repeated Phonny. 'Who was she?'

'You must not speak, Phonny,' said Malleville. 'Beechnut is going to tell this story to me.'

'Yes,' said Beechnut, 'it is altogether for Malleville, and you must not say a word about it from beginning to end.'

'One night,' continued Beechnut, 'about three weeks ago, I sat up very late in my room, writing. It was just after I had got well from my hurt, and as I had been kept away from my desk for a long time, I was very glad to get back to it again, and I used to sit up quite late in the evenings, writing and reading. The night that I am now speaking of, I sat up even later than usual. It had been a very warm day, and the evening air, as it came into my open window, was cool and delightful. Besides, there was a bright moon, and it shone very brilliantly upon the garden, and upon the fields and mountains beyond, as I looked upon them from my window.

'At last I finished my writing just as the clock struck twelve, and as I still did not feel sleepy, notwithstanding that it was so late, and as the night was so magnificent, I thought that I would go out and take a little walk. So I put my books and papers away, took my cap, and put it upon my head, and then stepped out of the window upon the roof of the shed, which, you know, is just below it. I thought it better to go out that way rather than to go down the stairs, as by going down the stairs I might possibly have disturbed somebody in the house.

'I walked along the roof of the shed, without meeting anybody or seeing anybody except Moma. She was lying down asleep behind one of the chimneys.'

Moma was a large black cat belonging to Malleville.

'Poor Moma!' said Malleville. 'Has not she got any better place to sleep in than that? I mean to make her a bed as soon as I get well.'

'When I reached the end of the shed,' continued Beechnut, 'I climbed down by the great trellis to the fence, and from the fence to the ground. I went along the yard to the steps of the south platform, and sat down there. It looked very pleasant in the garden, and I went in there. I walked through the garden, and out at the back gate into the woods, and so up the glen. I rambled along different glens and valleys for half an hour, until at last I came to a most beautiful place among groves and thickets where there was a large spring boiling out from under some mossy rocks. This spring was in a deep shady place, and was overhung with beautiful trees. In front of the spring was a large basin of water, half as large as this room. The water was very clear, and as the moonlight shone upon it through the interstices of the trees, I could see that the bottom was covered with yellow sands, while beautiful shells and pebbles lined the shore.

'The water fell down into the basin from the spring in a beautiful cascade. All around there were a great many tall wild flowers growing. It seemed to me the most beautiful place I ever saw. I sat down upon a large round stone which projected out from a grassy bank just below this little dell, where I could see the basin of water and the spring, and the flowers upon its banks, and could hear the sound of the water falling over the cascade.

'There was a very large oak-tree growing near the basin on the one side. I could only see the lower part of the stem of it. The top was high in the air, and was concealed from view by the foliage of the thickets. The stem of the tree was very large indeed, and it had a very ancient and venerable appearance. There was a hollow place in this tree very near the ground, which had in some degree the appearance of a door, arched above. The sides of this opening were fringed with beautiful green moss, which hung down within like a curtain, and there were a great many beautiful flowers growing upon each side of it. Another thing which attracted my attention and excited my curiosity very strongly, was that there seemed to be a little path leading from this door down to the margin of the water.

'While I was wondering what this could mean, I suddenly observed that there was a waving motion in the long moss which hung down within the opening in the trunk of the tree, and presently I saw a beautiful little face peeping out. I was, of course, very much astonished, but I determined to sit perfectly still, and see what would happen.

'I was in such a place that the person to whom the face belonged could not see me, though I could see her perfectly. After looking about for a minute or two timidly, she came out. She was very beautiful indeed, with her dark hair hanging in curls upon her neck and shoulders. Her dress was very simple, and yet it was very rich and beautiful.'

'What did she have on?' asked Malleville.

'Why, I don't know that I can describe it very well,' said Beechnut. 'I am not much accustomed to describe ladies' dresses. It was, however, the dress of a child. She had in her hand a very long feather, like a peacock's feather, only, instead of being of many colours, it was white, like silver, and had the lustre of silver. I verily believe it must have been made of silver.'

'I don't believe it would be possible,' said Phonny, 'to make a feather of silver.'

'Why not?' asked Beechnut, 'as well as to make a tassel of glass? However, it looked like silver, and it was extremely graceful and brilliant as she held it in her hands waving in the moonbeams.

'After looking about for a minute or two, and seeing nobody, she began to dance down the little path to the brink of the basin, and when she reached it she began to speak. "Now," said she, "I'll freeze the fountain, and then I'll have a dance."

'As she said this, she stood upon the pebbles of the shore, and began gently to draw the tip of her long feather over the surface of the water, and I saw, to my amazement, that wherever the feather passed it changed the surface of the water into ice. Long feathery crystals began to shoot in every direction over the basin wherever Agnes moved her wand.'

'Was her name Agnes?' asked Malleville.

'Yes,' said Beechnut.

'How do you know?' asked Malleville.

'Oh, she told me afterwards,' replied Beechnut. 'You will hear how presently. When she had got the surface of the water frozen, she stepped cautiously upon it to see if it would bear.'

'Would it?' asked Malleville.

'Yes,' replied Beechnut, 'it bore her perfectly. She advanced to the middle of it, springing up and down upon her feet to try the strength of the ice as she proceeded. She found that it was very strong.

'"Now," said she, "for the cascade."

'So saying, she began to draw her silver feather down the cascade, and immediately the same effect was produced which I had observed upon the water. The noise of the waterfall was immediately hushed. Beautiful stalactites and icicles were formed in the place of the pouring and foaming water. I should have thought that the cascade had been wholly congealed were it not that I could see in some places by the moonlight that the water was still gurgling down behind the ice, just as it usually does when cascades and waterfalls are frozen by natural cold.'



'Yes,' said Phonny, 'I have watched it very often on the brook.'

'On what brook?' asked Malleville.

'On the pasture brook,' said Phonny.

Beechnut took no notice of Phonny's remark, but went on with his narrative as follows:

'Agnes then walked back and forth upon the ice, and began to draw the tip of her long silver feather over the branches of the trees that overhung the basin, and over the mossy banks and the tall grass and flowers. Everything that she touched turned into the most beautiful frost-work. The branches of the trees were loaded with snow, the banks hung with icicles, and the tall grass and flowers seemed to turn white and transparent, and they glittered in the moonbeams as if they were encrusted with diamonds. I never saw anything so resplendent and beautiful.

'At last she looked round upon it all and said: "There, that will do. I wonder now if the ice is strong enough."

'Then she went into the middle of the ice, and standing upon it on tiptoe, she sprang up into the air, and then came down upon it again, as if she were trying its strength. At the same instant she said or sung in a beautiful silvery voice, like a bird, the word, "Peep!"

'When she had done this, she stopped for a moment to listen. I sat perfectly still, so as not to let her know that I was near. Presently she leaped up again twice in succession, singing, "Peep! Peep!"

'Then, after pausing a moment more, she began to dance away with the utmost agility and grace, singing all the time a little song, the music of which kept time with her dancing. This was the song:

'"Peep! peep! chippeda dee, Playing in the moonlight—nobody to see; The boys and girls are gone away, They've had their playtime in the day, And now the night is left to me. Peep! peep! chippeda dee!"'

'That's a pretty song,' said Malleville.

'Yes,' said Beechnut, 'and you cannot imagine how beautifully she sang it, and how gracefully she danced upon the ice while she was singing. I was so delighted that I could not sit perfectly still, but made some movement that caused a little rustling. Agnes stopped a moment to listen. I was very much afraid that she would see me. She did not see me, however, and so she began the second verse of her song:

'"Peep! peep! chippeda dee! The moon is for the mountains, the sun is for the sea!"

'When she had got so far,' continued Beechnut, 'she suddenly stopped. She saw me. The fact was, I was trying to move back a little farther, so as to be out of sight, and I made a little rustling, which she heard. The instant she saw me, she ran off the ice, and up her little path to the opening in the oak, and in a moment disappeared. Presently, however, I saw the fringe of moss moving again, and she began to peep out.

'"Beechnut," said she, "how came you here?"

'"Why, I was taking a walk," said I, "and I came along this path. Don't you want me to be here?"

'"No," said she.

'"Oh, then I will go away," said I. "But how came you to know me?"

'"Oh, I know you very well," said she. "Your name is Beechnut."

'"And do you know Malleville?" said I.

'"Yes," said she. "I know her very well. I like Malleville very much. I like her better than I do you."

'"Ah," said I; "I am sorry for that. Why do you like her better than you do me?"

'"Because she is a girl," said Agnes.

'"That is a good reason," said I, "I confess. I like girls myself better than I do boys. But how came you to know Malleville?"

'"Oh, I have seen her a great many times," said she, "peeping into her windows by moonlight, when she was asleep."

'"Well," said I, "I will tell Malleville about you, and she will want to come and see you."

'"No," said Agnes, "she must not come and see me; but she may write me a letter."

'"But she is not old enough to write letters," said I.

'"Then," said she, "she must tell you what to write, and you must write it for her."'

Beechnut observed that, though Phonny and Malleville neither of them spoke, they were both extremely interested, and somewhat excited by the story, and that he was far from accomplishing the object which he had in view at first in telling a story, namely, lulling Malleville to sleep. He therefore said to Malleville that, though he had a great deal more to tell her about Agnes, he thought it would be better not to tell her any more then; but that he would sing Agnes's song to her, to the same tune that Agnes herself sung it. He would sing it several times, he said, and she might listen, laying her head upon his shoulder.

Malleville said that she should like very much to hear Beechnut sing the song, but that after he had sung it, she hoped he would tell her a little more about Agnes that night. She liked to hear about her, she said, very much indeed.

So Beechnut changed Malleville's position, placing her in such a manner that her head reclined upon his shoulder.

'Shut your eyes now,' said he, 'and form in your mind a picture of the little dell and fountain, with the frost-work beaming in the moonlight, and Agnes dancing on the ice while I sing.'

Then Beechnut began to sing the first verse of the song to a very lively and a pretty tune. He could not sing the second verse, he said, because he had not heard it all. But the first verse he sung over and over again.

'Peep! peep! chippeda dee! Playing in the moonlight, nobody to see; The boys and girls have gone away. They've had their playtime in the day, And now the night is left for me. Peep! peep! chippeda dee!'

Malleville lay very still, listening to the song for about five minutes, and then Beechnut found that she was fast asleep. He then rose very gently, and carried her to her bed. He laid her in the bed, and Phonny, who stood by, covered her with the clothes. He and Phonny then crept softly out of the room.

II

A Sound Sleeper

About nine o'clock, Hepzibah, having finished her work for the day, covered up the kitchen fire, and fastened the outer doors. Beechnut had gone to bed, and so had Phonny. Hepzibah went into Phonny's room to see if all was safe, and to get the light. She then went into Malleville's room.

The room had a very pleasant aspect, although the fire had nearly gone down. The lamp was burning on the stand at the foot of the bed where Phonny had left it. Hepzibah advanced softly to the bedside. Malleville was lying asleep there, with her cheek upon her hand.

'Poor child!' said Hepzibah to herself. 'She has gone to sleep. What a pity that I have got to wake her up by-and-by, and give her some medicine.'

Hepzibah then looked at a clock which stood upon the mantel-shelf, and saw that it was a little past nine. It was an hour or more before it would be time to give Malleville the drops. Hepzibah thought that if she went to bed, she should fall asleep, and not wake up again until morning, for she always slept very soundly. She determined, therefore, that she would sit up until half-past ten, and then, after giving Malleville the medicine, go to bed. She accordingly went and got her knitting-work, intending to keep herself awake while she sat up by knitting. When she came back into the room, she began to look for a comfortable seat. She finally decided on taking the sofa.

Mary Bell, after using the sofa for Malleville while she was making the bed, had put it back into its place by the side of the room. Hepzibah, however, easily brought it forward again, for it trundled very smooth and noiselessly upon its castors. Hepzibah brought the sofa up to the fire, placing one end of it near to the stand, in order that she might have the benefit of the lamp in case of dropping a stitch. She prepared the medicine for Malleville by mixing it properly with water in a little cup, and put it upon the stand, so that it should be all ready to be administered when the time should come, and then sat down upon the sofa, next to the sofa cushions, which were upon the end of the sofa, between herself and the light.

Things went on very well for almost half an hour, but then Hepzibah, being pretty tired in consequence of her long day's work, and of her want of rest the night before, began to grow sleepy. Twice her knitting-work dropped out of her hands. The dropping of the knitting-work waked her the first and second time that it occurred. But the third time it did not wake her. After falling half over and recovering herself two or three times, she at length sank down upon the cushions, with her head upon the uppermost of them, and there in a short time she was fast asleep.