more terror was an intimation that she must be forthwith despatched back to her relations. However, it ended so far happily that it seemed to have made some sort of impression on the old man, for in future he very ostentatiously filled her full the attenuated glassful, not, however, without invariably pointing the moral: "I hope, Maria, you will not now feel yourself compelled to help your self to my wine." The best part, however, was that a person he little suspected was really helping himself to his property in a felonious fashion, In this grim old house it was the young housekeeper's duty to descend every day to the cellar, attended by her trusty-or supposed to be trusty-servitor, and give out this one bottle of "right claret." In the cellar door a small hole had been cut close to the ground, to allow ingress and egress to the "harmless, necessary" cat of the household; but she began to note that on each occasion the faithful servitor lingered behind to make some arrangement with the bins, which attracted her curiosity. It proved that he invariably placed a bottle on the ground within easy reach of the hole; so when the cellar was locked he had only to return at his convenience, and put his hand through and reach the good old "Sneyd." This ingenious arrangement seemed to have gone on for a long time. As was to be expected, when the offender was denounced, the head of the house declined to credit the imputation on his menial, and it only became one more source of trouble and annoyance for poor Maria. But I now forget what was the exact end of this incident. By a cruel stroke of fate the faithful Jack, her only friend, was found to have died suddenly in his bed one morning. Apart from the grief at his loss, the young girl began to be troubled at the prospect of a ghostly visit. So every night, in that gloomy house, brought its terrors and alarms. However, there were no apparitions. The times of which we have been speak ing were somewhere between 1810 and 1820. To these days belong recollections of Bonaparte's escape from Elba, when all the hills around were lit up with bonfires. Yet this was merely sentimental, for her family was staunchly loyalist. She recalled one curiously picturesque scene when "The Whiteboys were out. She used to see them of nights from her windows, march ing through the trees in mil and once they came at midnigh before the door. Roused up, arrayed in a dressing-gown, ru and harangued them, abusing round in good set terms, an them that they would be hanged, and that he would hang them. This was listened to with perfect submission, many even coming up to him and drawing his dressinggown round him with a "Shure, sir, you'll go in now; you'll catch your death in this cowld night." On one or two rare occasions a little festivity was allowed. At the big house, Longlands, the gate of which was in the village, there was once or twice a dinner, to which Maria was taken. This occasion was seraphic almost, and like Cinderella's ball. The rooms were lit up, as they seemed, like those of a palace, and the stately lady was kind and encouraging to the little girl. His lordship was a personal friend of her grandfather, and treated him with a studious respect. There was another stately lady who presided at the house on ordinary occasions, and was gracious and encouraging to the little girl, often inviting her up to tea. She wrote in triumph to her mamma of this success, detailing all the incidents; but was dreadfully shocked to receive, instead of praise, a horrified rebuke. Was she disgracing her family-making a friend of a common housekeeper ? The poor child, who in her desolate condition had no one to turn to, could not understand this, and was terribly embarrassed how to break off her warm intimacy. Another period of happy release was grandpapa's annual visit to town, when he travelled on horseback the whole way-for he never entered a carriage on principle-his servant, as usual, in front of him. At last, however, Maria's servitude came to an abrupt elose. The wonderful old wearer of the cocked hat, long past eighty, but who boasted he never was a day ill in his life, now at last became ill for once, and, after a short time, died. He was said to have drawn up his short will with his famous cocked hat on his head. The family inherited some of his cash, but not all that they expected. He had been seen putting a large sum between the leaves, as usual, of a favourite Bible, only a few days before, but this disappeared in a mysterious way-not without suspicion of the trusty valet. But, to her great joy, Maria now found herself restored to her familyand also to the old disorderly round. She was now a blooming young creature, small fortune of a couple of thousand the admiration of the district, but not pounds, the pair hurried off to the capital without a little wildness. She rode to and deliberately spent the whole of it in perfection, and had been given, by an about a month or so. They then returned admirer, a beautiful black mare. Educa- to their family, when the bailiffs and tion, such as it was, was of the rudest drinking business went on gaily as before. kind in that home, a sort of hedge school- It would almost seem to have been cusmaster coming daily to give lessons. But tomary that the head of the house should strange to say, a man-cook of reputation be carried to bed every night. One night a was maintained on the establishment, gentleman, who had come to consult with who sent up rare dishes, for the head of him on some crisis in his affairs, was sitting the house was nice in these matters. with him over a friendly glass; everything Above stairs there was a rather ram-seemed to clear, and as the discussion went shackle sort of library, comprising all the novels of Fielding and Smollett, savoury and unsavoury, particularly "Tristram Shandy," which latter was devoured by the young people in the happiest state of innocence. Strange to say, there was a refined taste among them all, which seems extraordinary; they were passionately fond of poetry, read and got by heart whole works of Byron, Scott, and the rest. Often, too, a "squireen" would arrive from his travels, that is, from London, and there was quite a sensation at all the parties, when he would produce and recite, and allowed to be copied in MS. the noble poet's lines: Weep, daughter of a noble line! These verses were thought the finest things ever written! The young people themselves were given to composition, and filled volumes with their poems; some of them still linger in the memory, and seemed to me exceedingly good for such young "barbarians at their play." In the old grandfather's mansion there was also a fine library of foreign literature, old Spanish, Latin, and French chiefly; the walls were garnished with well-carved Chippendale mirrors and magnificent old sideboards. All this property was condemned as old-fashioned and unworthy of a person of taste. Some of the mirrors even served as targets for the young men, and were starred and shattered to pieces! The books, alas! voted to be so much lamber, were torn up and used by housemaids to light fires. The old parish priest of the place, who had been reared beyond the seas, at Valladolid, was invited to help himself to what he pleased, and, nothing loth, carried home innumerable fine old on extrication of some sort seemed likely enough. Suddenly the guest noted that his friend was growing silent and distrait, and with more punch yet more silence. He proceeded to expound his plans, but his host was gazing at him intently and with deep and yet deeper distrust. In time these glances grew more and more intense. At last he addressed the guest : "I know you now, sir-I have found you out!" "God bless me, what do you mean?" cried the alarmed stranger. Stooping forward, and in a hoarse, low voice of anger he said, slowly : "You are a bailiff, sir-a vile process server. You have stolen into my house under the guise of friendship." "My dear sir, I—what an idea." The family came rushing in, and it was found best, after much soothing and holding back, that the poor stranger should leave the house on the instant. It was midnight, but it was imperative for his safety; and he was accordingly sent out and safely piloted to the village. In this connection-of wine-it may be mentioned that Maria used to recall the general jubilee when the great butt of arrived per claret "Sneyd's best carrier from town. It was the invariable custom that for one whole week the butt should stand in a public place to let it "settle," preparatory to bottling, and should be free to all comers. Every one that so listed was privileged to come with his or her jug or glass and apply to the grateful tap-a truly Irish method of preparing wine for bottling. As may be conceived, it had shrunk a good deal before being taken in hand. No doubt it was felt that it "did not much matter," as the trusting wine merchant, it was likely enough, never received the amount of his bill, Among other casual and welcome visitors was a certain Thady, whose arrival was looked for with impatience. He was always accompanied by a donkey, whose panniers were laden with oysters. Thady, according to invariable custom, was lodged, and fed, and "entreated," with his donkey, for a week and more, spending his time opening oysters for the family. And so it was until his whole cargo had been eaten up. Another person thus royally entertained was the travelling blind piper, Tim. Every night of his stay there was dancing in kitchen or parlour, and he also remained on at free board and lodging until it suited him to go his way. Once, Thus the old round went on, the debts and difficulties increasing, but, somehow, without appearing to affect the well-being of the family, suggesting the Pickwickian cab-horse, which could go so long as he was kept in the shafts. The butt of Sneyd's claret came as usual, and was drunk as usual. The cellars, it may be said, were of enormous extent, and spread away in caves under the lawn, the entrance being conveniently situated in the dining-room itself a common arrangement at this time-the host, in the midst of the carouse, raising a trap, and descending with a candle to look for, as best he could, some favourite "bin." Everything was reckless revelry and enjoyment, races and dances being the chief entertainment. however, a race, for which all had been preparing, had to be foregone owing to the awkward seizure of the new carriage and horses, and it is recorded that the chief anxiety was that the matter should be settled in time for the races. However, it was temporarily "arranged." The scene was a miserable country town close by, known as Clanagate, where a company of unhappy soldiers were quartered, which elevated it to the dignity of a "garrison town." Here were the officers, "no less,' and the mess, and occasionally a quarrel and "affairs of honour" with the officers, which was quite a feather in one's cap. There was one inn, or shebeen, in the place, with what were called "The Assembly Rooms," a kind of largish diningroom, where once the officers actually gave a dance, which the whole neighbourhood insisted on dubbing the "ball." Hither our Maria repaired, and was sought by all for the "country dance" indeed, was the belle of the night. One of the officers appeared to be devoted to her; indeed, was considered to have been "conquered" finally; but it only brought Maria her first serious mortification. For, it seems, he actually went over to a more dashing female friend, endowed with much less attractions, and carried her away with him to England. The astonishment of the neighbourhood and disgust of Maria's family were supreme, and father and brothers were for "taking the matter up" in the regular way. Other more serious offers presently came in. There were young fellows in plenty; but they were all "squireens," without a halfpenny in the world. There was, indeed, an ugly elderly suitor, but well to do, whom the family warmly favoured. This was "Jones of Scullabeg Castle," an illsounding title, not always pronounced with melodious respect. The "Castle," however, was a barbarous-looking stone house, half of the roof of which was thatched over, the other half slated. Jones, or his ancestors, had fully intended slating the other half one of these days." In vain it was pressed upon the poor Maria what a splendid match "Jones of Scullabeg" would be; how desirable it was for the family she should be mistress of the halfthatched mansion. But she recoiled from the dismal prospect. Nothing would move her. This brought her into disgrace, not only with her family, but with the neighbours. "God help us all," said her father, piously; "to be insulted in this way by my own children, for whom I have done everything!" (Rather, whom he had done out of everything.) " Maria, Maria, Maria! you're breakin' my heart." This, it will be surmised, was some hours after the cloth had been drawn, and savoured of the fourth tumbler. THE WAY OF THE WORLD. A COMPLETE STORY. ONCE upon a time there lived three fair maidens who made a solemn compact of perpetual spinsterhood, and signed the agreement in true Draconian fashion. Their names were Marion Gray, Annabel Summers, and Susie Lee, and the document which they drew up on a winter's afternoon, when they ought to have been writing an essay on the reign of Henry the Eighth, was as follows: "We, the undersigned, being firmly con vinced of the degeneracy and inferiority of the male sex, and being assured that the friendship of each of the two others for the third"-it took them a long time to bring this idea into shape-"will be amply sufficient for our wants in life, solemnly undertake never to marry, but to stay by each other, admitting no fourth party to our circle, and when we leave school to live all together happily in a little house until death do us part.' " Then each of them pricked her finger and scratched her initials at the foot of the page. They could not do more, for the supply of fluid ran short, and you see they did not want to hurt themselves more than was absolutely necessary. Marion and Annabel were the leading spirits in this conjuration. Marion had an elder brother who delighted in ferreting and shooting rabbits, and said that Tennyson and Mrs. Browning were all "rot"; so her contempt for man is intelligible. Annabel, who had no brothers, based her misanthropy on grounds of pure reason, But Susie, the youngest, who thought that if all men were only half as nice as her father, they could not be altogether vile, wavered for a moment before signing. She had only just lately been building up for herself, out of surreptitiously read novels, a hero compounded of all the salient qualities of all the heroes of romance and history. It was very hard to give up this wonderful being, as she was conscientiously bound to do if she entered into the compact, especially as he had already condescended to allow her to worship him and seek the protection of his strong right arm. Of course she did not tell her friends this, but they noticed her reluctance. Annabel overpowered her with metaphysics, and Marion came out with the much more practical argument: "If you don't sign, you don't care a little bit about us, and we will live in the little house without you." So Susie, finding that two solid girlfriends outbalanced one imaginary hero, however weighted he was with noblest attributes, signed him away in a little red scrawl, though it seemed to be her heart's blood she was sacrificing instead of her thumb's. Now maidens at school may propose unto themselves all kinds of delightful plans, but when they go out into the world they find circumstance too strong for the execution thereof. Thus it happened that years afterwards, not very many, but vaguely long to these maidens, when fingers were no longer inky, and oranges were no longer eaten, with delicious sense of wrong-doing, in their bedrooms, and when Henry the Eighth himself was a mere dim impression, they thought no more of the little house, that miniature Castle Adamant, in which they were to lead their idyllic existence. Marion, who was rich, lived in a great country-house in Perthshire; Annabel, who was poor, was making her way upon the London stage; and Susie was taking care of her father in a little Devonshire town. They corresponded voluminously, as is the way of maidens who have sworn eternal friendship, but since that dark and tearful day when Marion left school, the three had never once found themselves together. But at the beginning of one August, after dancing through a long London season, Marion found herself amongst the pines and larches, and the glories of the Perthshire hills, together with Annabel and Susie. Of the three, Susie had changed least; she was the same quiet, plain-frocked little maiden she had been at school. But Annabel had the actress's towzled hair and daring gracefulness of costume, and Marion was the fashionable young lady with a taste for satire and epigram. "Do you remember this?" asked Marion, the day after her guests had arrived. She was showing them her treasures. The one designated was an old leaf torn out of an exercise book, with three faint yellow scrawls at the bottom of it. Something of the school-girl was in them still, for they did not laugh at themselves. "I have not altered my views," said Annabel, "and I shall always hold to them. The more I see of men, and I see a good deal of them on the stage, the more am I convinced that they are a very inferior lot. I chucked one only the other day." "What do you mean?" asked Susie, in some alarm. "I mean that I have refused one offer of marriage already." "Well, so have I," said Marion. "And you, Susie? Have you nobly kept to your bond, and taught one of these lower animals his position?" "Yes," sighed Susie. She looked away, and her eyes filled with tears. Evidently she did not find the rejection of suitors so amusing. "Tell us all about it, Susie." "I can't; don't ask me about it, please don't." And, rising hurriedly, she left the lawn, where the three were sitting, and ran into the house. The two girls looked at one another. "I wonder whether the little goose looks upon this nonsense as binding," said Marion. "I think that you and I weren't hit, and she is," said Annabel, smoothing her gown. "H'm. Perhaps more is learned from omission than admission," replied Marion. She said no more; but that evening, before she went to sleep, her fancies were not strictly in accordance with the tenor of the compact. Some one was coming soon whom she could not look upon as an inferior animal. He had not yet given her the chance of refusing him, it is true; but-and at this "but" she stayed very pleasantly until she dropped asleep. As for Susie, a tender spot had been touched rather rudely. She lay awake, too, some time that night. She thought of a certain handsome, penniless scapegrace, in whose arms she had cried bitterly on that last day when she had told him that she could not leave her father against his will, and had promised to wait and wait until he made name and fame for himself. Indeed, old General Lee had threatened to horsewhip him, if ever he dared speak or write to his daughter again; and the scapegrace, being an intelligent scapegrace, and knowing that the General was a man of his word, had prudently vanished into the unknown, taking Susie's heart with him. Now on the twelfth of August, the grouse, who for long months had lived a happy life in the heather, enjoying all the privileges of social order and protective force, suddenly awoke to the fact that chaos was come again, and that the gaitered or bare-kneed beings, who once guarded their interests so jealously, had turned into relentless, inveterate foes. It was a bad day for the grouse; but for Dickie Gray, who by this time had outgrown his taste for ferreting, except at very slack seasons, it was always a solemn festival to which he invited men with guns from all quarters of the kingdom. Thus it was that the seclusion of the girls was rudely interrupted by an invasion of Dickie's friends. They were all very much like Dickie-honest, moustached, square-shouldered, thick-headed young Britons, who went about in twos and threes, and slunk behind trees and stable-doors when the approach of a petticoat was imminent. They did not, therefore, weary the girls with their company. Except at dinner, they were scarcely ever visible to feminine eye. So many came and went, and they were all of such comical similarity, that the girls at last gave up trying to remember their names or the times of their arrivals and departures. One Sunday morning Susie came down from her room about half-past ten and went on to the terrace in front of the house. Down at the foot of the grounds ran the river, shading into a hundred tones with pool and shallow and stream, and topping the ragged, rocky bank patched with golden gorse rose a screen of fir, and larch, and russet beech; and then came heaving, swelling uplands, hills and hollows, giving the sense of perpetual motion, green with pasture land, dim yellow with cornfields, with here and there a tiny homestead sending up its peat-smoke from behind the clumps of fir; and away beyond was the broad purple moor stretching upward and upward, melting imperceptibly into the slopes of the mountains that shimmered blue against the sky. After filling her eyes with this scene, Susie looked around for company. Annabel had gone to the Free Kirk in the village with Mrs. Gray. Marion had remained at home, but where she was Susie did not know. Not even a grouse-shooting young man was in sight. So Susie, cast upon her own resources, went down to the river. There, however, she met Dickie and three young men, evidently bored with each other, and longing to break the Sabbath. For once they welcomed Susie amongst them. The idea of seeking distraction in feminine society came upon them as a novelty. They had not thought of it. The honest young Philistines found Susie charming, especially when they discovered that her notion of fly-fishing was that the angler sat idly on a bank, and let his fly dangle in the water until a trout swallowed it comfortably. They talked, therefore, a great deal about fishing, to enlighten her; and she learned many things-the sacrosanctity of parr and smolt, and the grownup responsibilities of a grilse, and the supernatural cunning of the trout. They also told her terrible tales of poachers; and how they were going to lie in wait for certain piratical scoundrels who practised otter-fishing of nights; but when she wondered how they could train a beast which she had never heard was noted for its intelligence, they were hugely delighted. Now an "otter" is a flat board with casts |