going the home circuit, they visited the cathedral at Canterbury together. Bicliards commended the voice of a singing man in the choir. ' Ah/ said Lord Tenterden, that is the only man I ever envied. When at school in this town, we were candidates for a chorister's place, and he obtained it.' It is now well known that the Duke of Wellington, when a subaltern, was anxious to retire from the army, and actually applied to Lord Camden (then lord-lieutenant of Ireland) for a com inissionership of customs. It is not always true, then, that men destined to play conspicuous parts in the world have a consciousness of their coming greatness, or. patience to bide their time. Their hopes grow as their capacity expands with circumstances ; honours on honours arise like Alps on Alps; in ascending one they catch a glimpse of another, till the last and highest, which was veiled in mist when they started, stands out in bold relief against the sky.

Sultana Valide.

A great deal has been said about the Sultana Valide, and for some time it ; was supposed that she was an English \ woman. It was afterward stated that | she belonged to the Bonaparte family. Now we learn' that she was a very common Breton girl named Aiinee Dubrec, who lived a gay life in Paris for some time, and then followed a Turk to the Golden Horn. There she managed to attract the notice of the Sultan, who threw his handkerchief after her and took her into his harem. She became the favourite, and when her son Abdul Aziz was born she became a legitimate wife, and was named the Sultana Yalide. It is aaid that her parents were living when Adul Aziz assended the,, throne, and though in poverty she never sent them above a few thousand francos, an in significant charity for one who had millions at her command.

Coaching Days

Mant years ago, before the time of Rail ways, the Oxford Coach was full of Under Graduates returning to their respective Colleges. The day was cold, wet, and miserable, when a well-appointed carriage ;drove up to the 'White Horse Collar ' Piccadilly. Have you room for one in side the Oxford ?' asked aa pretty a little fgirl as one would wish to see on a Sum aer day. ' What a beauty ' exclaimed ne. ' Quite lovely!' said another. Perfect!' lisped a third. 'Quite full, Miss,' replied the Coachman, 'inside and sut.' Surely you could make room for one,' persevered the fair applicant. 'Quite impossible Miss, without the gen-: tlemen's consent.' ' Lots of room !' cried heinsides ;we are not very large; we :an manage to take one more.' 'If the ;entlemen consent,' said the driver, who ras one of the best tempered fellows on arth, and as honest as Aristides, ' I have 10 objection.' 'We agree ' said the in iderß. ' All right' responded the driver. 'he fare was paid, and the guard proceed dto open the door, and let down thei teps.' Now Miss if you please—we are ; ehind our time.' ' Come along grand - ither,' cried the damsel addressing a lost respectable looking, portly, elderly entleman ;' the money is paid —get in, nd be sure to the gentlemen,' t the same time suiting the action to the rord, and with a wicked smile assist ig her respected grandfather into the oach. ' Here's some mistake ; you will queeze us to death !' cried the astonished ndergraduates. But at that moment all right, sit fast' was heard, and away attled the coach at its best pace, drown ng the voices of the crest-fallen konians.

Mr. Potts Looking for a Light.

Bune night during the receDfc troubles In the Pennsylvania coal regions, Judge ffotts's brother, Thomas Potts, was round |t a meeting of the mine owners, and after the adjournment he stepped into the Ta rern. While there he met some friend, bd in the course of an hour or two he got irery intoxicated. On his way home he lost his hat, and a miner who knew him, feeling compassion for him, clapped on his bad a miner's hat; and in order to make [the dark streets look brighter, he lighted I lamp in front, of the hat. When Potts lad reached the house, his wife had gone 0 bed, and the lights were out; but Potts elt certain the lamps was burning in the "hall hut he could not for the life of him, tellwhereitwas. He looked at the re gular lamp and it seemed to be out; then ie hunted in every direction for the light, but was unable to find it, although it seemed to shine bright wherever he went. Presently he happened to stop in front of the mirror ir> the hat-jack, and then he saw precisely where the light was. After 1 brief objuration upon Mrs. Potts for leaving a light in such a place, he went up jio the mirror and tried to blow it out. ,;He blew and blew; but somehow or other :|he flame burnt on as steadily as fbefore. , . I ' That' said Potts, 'is th'most extra ijor-nary lampa'ever been my misforten

encounter. Then he took his coat off, and and holding it up in front of him, crept cautiously up to the mirror and. tried to crush the coat over the lamp, which still burnt brightly. He said ' that's cer'ingly ;very extro'nary ! moz 'stonishin circum stanz ever come un'er m'observation. ' Don'o how to 'count for it!' It had occur ,ed to him that perhaps he mi^ht smash the lamp with an umbrella. Seizing the weapon he wentjup to the hat rack and aim ing a terrible blow at the light, brought the umbrella down. "He missed, and smashed his Sunday hat into chaos. Hetook aim again and caught the umbrella in the lamp overhead, bringing it down with a crash. Then he tried a third time, and. plunged the ferule of the umbrella through the mirror, and smashed it to atoms. [He felt exultant at the moment, as the light disappeared from his vision, but he jwas perplexed to find there- was another light somewhere, he^ did not know exactly where, so he sat down;on the steps and remarked; ' mds' '^t'onishing' circumstance ever come ;un'er my observation.; What'en thunder doz it mean, anyhow,? Light's gone an' yet'g shinin'! per fectly inconipr'ensible! Wish to gracious Mrs. Potts'd wake up an' 'spiain it, Dura jf I know what I had better do !' Then Potts took off his hat to scratch his head, jn the hope that he might s,care up an idea., and the truth flashed upon him. Gazing at the lamp for a moment, untiL he drank in a full conception of the trouble it had Caused him, lie suddenly smashed it down dn the,floor in a rage and extingushed it, after covering two yards of carpet with grease. .Then he went to bed, and in the niorning Mrs. Potts informed, him that sbme of those horrible Miners,had broken into the house the night before and left one of their hats with a lamp. Potts ttirned over in bed so that she could not see his face, and said, >' if the stern hand of the law tvasn't laid upon those ruffians s<j>on nobody's life would be safe.'

The Wise Thought.

She was sitting under the shadow of a frjagrant lime tree that overhung a very aicieat well; and, as the water fell into her pitcher, she was mingling with its mhasic the .tones of her ' Jews harp,' the oily instrument upon which; ,N"orah Clary hid learned to play. She was a merry maiden of 'sweet seventeen;' a rustic belle, as well as a rustic beauty, and a terrible coquette; and as she had what in, Scotland they call a 'tocher,'in England a ' dowry,' and in Ireland a ' pretty penny o'money,'' it is: scarcely necessary to state in! addition, that she .had—a bachelor. Whether the.tune—which was certainly given usr alto—was. or was ,not designed as a summons to her lover,, I cab not take upon myself to say; but her lips and fingers had not-been iops^ppcupiecl, beforo her lover was at her side.

'We may as well give it iup, Morris Donovan,' she said somewhat-abruptly ; 'look, 'twould be easy to jtirisb the top off the great hill of Howth, as make father and" mother agree-about any one thing. They've been playing the rule of contrary these twenty years,., and it's not likely the'll take a turn now.'

It's mighty bard, so it is,' replied hand some Morris, ' that marri d people caa't draw together. 'Norah,- darlint ! that woulden't be the way with us. It's one we'd be in heart and sowl and an example of love and ——~—' ,

i' Folly,' interupted the maiden, laughing ' Morris, Morris, we've quarelled a score o' times already; and a bit of a breeze makes lite all the pleasanter. Shall Italic about the merry jig 1 danced with Phil Kennedy, or repeat what Mark Dooleri said of me to Mary Grey ? —eh, Morris ?' . €| Leaving joking now, Worry ; God only knows how 1 love you,' he said, in a voice broken by emotion : ' I'm yer equal as far as money goes; and no young farmer ia the country can tell a better stock to his share than mine ; yet I don't pretend to deserve you for all that; only I can't help saying that, when we love each other (now, don't go to contradict me, Norry, because ye've as good as owned it over again), and yer father agreeable, and all, to think that yer mother, just out of divilMent, should be putting betwixt us for no reason upon earth, only to ' spite' her lawful husband, is what sets me mad entirely, and shows her to be a good-for • ' Stop, Mister Morris,' exclaimed Iforah, laying her hand upon his mouth, so as effectually to prevent a sound escaping it's my mother ye're talking of, and it would be ill-blood, as well as ill-bred, to hear a word said against an 'own parent. Is that the pattern of yer manners, sir,. or did ye ever hear me turn my tongue aginst one belonging to you ? ' I ask yer pardon, my own Nbrah,' he replied meekly, as in duty bound; ' for the sake of the lamb, we spare the sheep. Why not ? and I'm not going to gainsay, but yer mother ' 1 The least said's the soonest mended !. again interrupted the impatient girl' • Good even, Morris, and God bless you ; they'll be after missing me within, and it's little mother thinks where I am.' ' Norah, above all the girls at wake or pattern, I've been true to you. We have grown together, and since ye were the height of a rose-bush, ye have been dearer to me then anything else on earth. Do, Norah, for the sake of our young hearts' love, do think if there's no way to win yer mother over. If ye'd take me without her leave, sure it's nothing I'd care for the loss of thousands, let alone what yte've got. Dearest Worah, think ; since you'll do nothing without her consent, do think — for once be serious, and don't laugh,'

' I'mnotgoing to laugh, Mo'rrisjl' replied the little maid at last,' fift'ef ■'a very • long pause; 'I've got a wise thought inf my head for ' once. { His reverence, 'your ancle, you say, spoke to,father—to speak bo mother about it ? I.wonder, (and he, a priest) that he had'nt more sense ! .Sure, mother was the man j but I've got a. wise thought. Gl-qod night, dear Morris.; good night.' ' •"'■ ' "'" | The lass sprang lightly over the fenc, into her own garden, leaving her: lover jperdu at the other .side, without possess ing an idea of what her 'wise thought' bight be. When she entered the kitchen matters were going . on, as usual—her mother bustling in style, and as cross ' as

i bag of weaels.' The mdttier began : 1 Jack Clary,' said she, addressing lerself to her husband, who sat quietly n the chimney-corner smoking his doodeen, it's well ye've go£ a wife who knows vhat's what! (3-qd -help .me,! JJ'yei little ; jood of a husband, barring ■ the nap^e! Lre ye sure Black Nell's in the, stable?' i?he sposo' nodded. ' Tl^e cow and the ealfy had they fresh straw?' Another nod. 1 Bad-cess to ye,- eari't ye use yer'; tftrigue, and answer a civil question?1 continued the lady. ! ' My dear,' he replied, ' sure one like you has enough talk for ten.' This very just observation was, like most truths, so disagreeable, that,a severe storm would have followed, had not INorah stepped ii£ to" her father and whispered in .his- ear, 'I don't think the stable door, 'is fastened.' Mrs Clary caught the sound, and in no gentle terms ordered her husband^ to attend to the cbmfprts of Black.^ell., ' I'll r go, .with fither myself and'see, said Koran.. 'That's like my own child, always careful,'observed the mother, as the father and • daughtbr closed the door, i!i '• ' I"

• ' Dear father,' began Norah, ' it isn't altogether about the'stable I wanted ye, but—but—the priest said something to you to-day about—^Morris Donovan.. 'Yes, darling, arid' about yerself, my sweet Norry.' ' Did ye speak to mother about it ?' ' No, darling, she's been so cross all day, SuTe I go through a dale for'peace and quietness.: If I was like other men, and got drunk and wasted, it might' be in rason; but—. As to: Morris, she was, very fond of the boy till she found that I liked him ; and then,,my jewel, she turned like sour milk all in a minute. I'm afraid even the priest 11 get no good of her.'V, •Father, dear father,' said ' Norah, ' suppose ye were to say nothing about it, good or bad, and just pretend to r tak6 'a sudden dislike to Morris, andlet the priest speak to her himself, she'd'eome round.' [ • ' Out ot opposition to me, eh ?'• , : ~.-• '''.Yes.' ' . "' ' : '"'. ;'"'

' And let her gain ifUe day then ?—that' would be cowardly*' 'replied' the farmer, drawing himself up, No, I wont'/ 1 ' Father, dear, you1 don't. understand,' said the cunning lass; • sure ye're for Morris; snd when-,we are—that is, if—l mean —suppose—father, you know what I mean,' she continued, and luokily the twilight concealed her blushes—' if that took place, it's you: that' would have yer, own way.' •True for ye, Norry, my girl;"true for ye; I never thought of that before !' and, pleased with the idea of ■' tricking' his wife, the old man fairly capered for joy. •' But stay a while —stay ; aisy, aisy ! he recom menced ; 'how am Ito manage ? Sure the priest himself will be here to-morrow morning early ; and he's out upon a station now, so there's no speaking with " him ; he's no way quick either; we'll be bothered entirely if he comes in on a suddent.' • .;,•■:.

' Leave ifc to me, dear father—leave it all to me!' exclaimed the animated girl; only pluck up a spirit, and whenever Morris's name is mentioned, abuse him — but not with all yer heart, father—only from the teeth out.'

When they re-entered, the fresh-boiled patatoes set a warm curling steam to the very rafters of the lofty kitchen.; they were poured out into a large wicker kish, and on the top of the pile rested a plate of coarse white salt; noggins of butter milk were filled on the dresser ; and on a small round table a cloth was spread, and some delf plates awaited the more delicate repast which the farmer's wife was herself preparing. 1 What's for supper, mother ?' inquired Norah, as she drew her wheel towards her, and employed her fairy foot in whirling it round.

1 Plaguy snipeens,' she replied : ' bits o' bog; chickens, that you've always such a fancy for ; Barney Leary kilt them him self.'

'So I did,' said Barney, grinning; ',and that stick wid a hook, of Morris Donovan's, is the finest thing in the world for knock ing 'em down.' llf Morri3 Donovan's stick touched them, they shan't come here,' said the farmer, striking the poor little table such a blow with his clenched hand, as mada not only it, but Mrs Clary jump. • •

• And why so, pray ?' asked the dame.

f Because nothing belonging to Morris, let alone Morris himself, shall come into this house,' replied Clary; 'he's not to my liking anyhow, and there's no good in his bothering here after what he wont get,'

• Excellent!' thought Norah. 1 Lord save us !' ejaculated Mrs Clary. as she placed the grilled snipes on the table, ' what's come to the man ?' With out heeding his. resolution, she was proceeding to distribute the . savoury 'birdeens,' when, to her astonishment, her usually tame husband threw the dish

md its contents into the flames; the good woman absolutely stood for a moment ighast. The calm, however, was not of long duration. She soon rallied, and (fommenced hostilities : ' How dare you, ye spalpeen, throw away any of God's mate after that fashion, and I to the fore ? |V"hat do you mane, I say ?'

I ' I inane, that nothing touched by Morris Donovan shall come under this ijoof; and if I catch that girl of mine looking at the same side o' the road he walks on, I'll tear the eyes out of her head, and send her to a nunnery !' , ' You will)! And dare you to say that to my face, to a child o' mine ! You will, will .ye P—we'll see, my boy! I'll tell ye what, if I like, Morris Donovan shall come into this house ; and what's more, be master of this house; and that's what you never h|ad the heart to be yet, ye poor ould snail!' So saying, Mrs Clary endeavoured to rescue from the fire the hissing remains of the burning snipes., j^orah. attempted to assist her mother; but Clary, lifting her up, somewhat after the fashion of an eagle raising a golden wren with its claw fairly put her out of the kitchen. This was the signal for fresh hostilities. Mrs Olary stormed and stamped; and Mr Clary persisted in abusing not only Morris, but Morris's uncle, Father Donovan, until at last the farmer's helpmate swore, ay, and roundly too, by cross and saint, that before tha next sunset, Norah Clary should be J^orah Donovan. I wish you could have s^en Norry's eye, dancing with joy and exultation, as it peeped through the latch hole ; it sparkled more brightly than the richest .diamond in our monarch's erowa, fo;rit was filled with hope and love.

.. 'The next morning, before the sun was fully up, he was throwing his early beams over the glowing cheek of Norah Clary; for her \ wise thought' had prospered, and she was hastening to the trysting tree, where, 'by chance,' either morning or evening, she generally met Morris Donovan, I don't know how it is, but the moment the course,of true love 'runs smooth/ it becomes,very uninteresting, except to the parues concerned. So it is now left for me only to say, that the maiden, after a due and proper time consumed in teazing and tantalising her intended, told him her saucy plan, and its result. And the lover hastened, upon the wings of love (which I beg my readers clearly understand are swifter and stronger in Ireland than in .any other country), to apprise the priest of tho arrangement, well knowing that his reverence loved his nephew, and niece that wasto be (to say nothing of the wedding supper, and the profits arising therefrom); too well, not to aid their merry jest.

What bustle, what preparation, what feasting, what dancing, gave the country folk enough to talk about during the happy Christmas holidays, I cannot now describe. The bride of course looked lovely, and •''sheepish;' and the bridegroom—but bridegrooms are always uninteresting. One fact, however, is worth recording. When father Donovan concluded the ceremony, ■ before the bridal kiss had passed, Farmer Clary, without any reason that his wife could discover, most in deriorously sprang Up, seized a shilelah of stout oak, and, whirling it rapidly over his head, shouted, 'Carry me out! by the powers she's beat! we've won the day ! — ould Ireland for ever! Success, boys ! — she's beat, sin's beat!' The priest, too, seemed vastly to enjoy this extemporaneous effusion, and even the bride laughed out right. Whether the1 good wife discovered the plot or not, I never heard ; but of this I am certain, that the joyous Norah never had reason to repent her ' wise thought.' ■

A Faithless Lover

BY MINOLA.

Eive and twenty, years ago there stood in the suburbs of Melbourne a quiet unpre tending little public house, whose owner, a young Scotchman, Alick Gordon, had emigrated from Glasgow about two years before, and by his industry and energy had succeeded in building this house, and was now in a fair way, if not of realising a for tune, at least of making a very comfortable living. Before leaving home he was en gaged to a pretty fair-haired, blue eyed girl, with whom he had long been deeply in love. Her parents considered it more prudent that their marriage should not take place until he had provided a home for her in tho land to which he was going, when, if neither changed their minds, Maggie should go outandjoinhim. This resolution was taken for two reasons ; first, because they wished to keep their daughter with them as long as possible, and, secondly, they wisely considered that a wife would prove a drawback to him when landing with limited means in a new and strange country. The lovers corres ponded regularly, and when at the end of eighteen months Alick sent for her, Maggie gladly set out to join him, though not whuont many natural regrets at leaving home and her native land for ever. Still, it was for Alick's sake, and no sacrifice appeared too great when made for him. She arrived safely in the colony, and was warmly welcomed by her lover and a distant relative of her own who had come out some years before, and had accidentally met Alick in Melbourne, It was arranged that she should reside with the family of this relation until her marriage, which was to take place in two months. Maggie was very happy, and often gazed at the pretty white house, and though tffittt much happiness of the day which should make her its mistress.

, While she was indulging in these pleasureable anticipations, an erent which was to influence her after life was then causing the most intense excitement throughout the colony, and indeed far beyond it. This was the discovery of the rich golden treasures of Victoria, which caused hope to beat high in every breast, for it seemed that now indeed fato had placed a fortune within the reach of every one who had sufficient energy to grasp it. To reach the diggings wm the one thought uppermost in the mind of every man, md of many women too. It seemed to all that it was only necessary to reach the scene, and that once there, their success would be certain. But in many cases the long weary journey only ended in toil and disappointment, for while some made fortunes, others only found graves. Many a pleasant home, in those days, was broken up, many ties rudely snapped asunder, and friends, parted to meet no more, by golden dreams which were never destined to be realised.

Alick G-ordon became affected with the general fever, and now his whole desire was to leave the house in which he had formerly taken such pride, and try his luck on the diggings. For some time he wavered, not liking to leave Maggie; but the struggle ended, as it always does where love and gold are opposad to each other, in favour of the latter. While pondering over the subject, and discuss ing it with his intimate friend, a red-haired young grocer, a circumstance occurred which finally decided him. One night a digger from Forest Creek happened to stay at his house, and showed him a hand« kerchief full of nuggets. The potency of sudh metallic persuasion was too great for Alick, and his mindwas at once made up ; go he would at all risks. Acting upon this resolution, ne that very night sold his houseto his grocer friend, and in the morning repaired to where Maggie lived' to bid her good-bye, and inform her that he was going to make a fortune for her and make a lady of her for life. But though he had found it very easy to reason with himself, he found it more difficult to nersuade Maggie of the wisdom cf his determination, and with a man's superi ority he could not help wondering how blind women are to their own interest. ' Women aro unselfish, but not men,' says Thackeray, and Maggie proved no exception. She unselfishly sacrificed her own wishes when she saw how anxious her lover was to go, and tried to hioe any disappointment which she felt, and even to look a little hopefully upon the matter. He, on his part, professed to feel the parting very much, and declared that it was entirely on her account that ho wished for increased riches.

'It is all for you, Maggie,' he said. ' Remember that I do not wish for money for myself; but I could never bear to see you working. I will come back rich, and then you" shall have a grand house and lots of servantss, and beautiful dresses, and be a real lady.'

Well, "beautiul dresses, and, in fact, splendours of any sort, even when only in prospective, always have a certain amount of attraction for most feminine minds, and Maggie became half consoled, and smiled through her tears, declaring she was afraid she would fado away, like the bride of Burleigh, from amidst such magnificence. ' But, Alick,' she added, 'if you are not successful, do not think that I shall be disappointed; bring me back yourself unaltered, and that is all I shall ask.'

However, at length the las'; good-bj was spoken, and after many vows of faith, 'but no're a true one,' , Alick GJ-orden took his departure, . and left Maggie to dream away the time during his absence as best she could. He safely arrived at Forest Creek, and went to work in a hole in which throe other miners had been prospecting, but had left as un payable. The third morning after hit arrival, whom should he see approaching, mounted upon a grey horse, but his grocer friend who had not even waited to sell bis recently purchased property, but had simply nailed up the shutters and left it to take care of itself. The two agreed to become partners. Fortune smiled on their efforts : they had luckily fallen upon a rery rich claim, and at the end of three months they had cleared the handsome sum of eighteen hundred pounds each. This sum appeared so large and so inexhaustible to the red-haired grocer,, that he determined to. at once proceed to Melbourne, and there enjoy his riches amid the gaiety of the capital. Acting upon this resolution he disappeared from Forest Creek as suddenly as he came. The last his friend saw of him, he was mounted on bis grey charger tearing dowu the gully as if ' The wolves of Appenine were all upon his track.' But he never reached Melbourne ; and as horse or rider was never seen again, it is just possible that they may have become spiritualised, and may be galloping awajr somewhere in space yec. ; -..;...,.., Alick Gordon's ambition was;not so easily satisfied. A short time before, the possession of so much money would have seemed to him absolute riches; now, however, it only made him desirous for more, and he thought he saw a means of increasing his wealth. He gave up digging, and started storekeeping, with such good results that within ten months he had realised the enormous sum of for ■

thousand pounds. He then gare up business and returned to Melbourne, the possessor of a large fortune, after an absence of less than eighteen months. During this time he had kept up a fitful cor respondence with Maggie, and at first had.

Even^g Star 30, lS^e,