A CONFIDENTIAL AGENT BY JAMES PAYN,

"By Proxy," "Under One Koof," "Walter's Word," "High Spirits," Etc.

CHAPTER I. THE FAMILY CIKCLE,

'.There, is a general impression among country people that all London houses arc morc'or less alike ; whereas, as a matter of fact, there are almost as many diversities of form among them as of class. It is true tUafc whole streets have in some localities ius absolute v sameness sis though they were turood out by a machine; but even where tic boildor has done his worst to produce a hideous uniformity, it is curious how the •tenant,-or the lodger, will set him at nought .nnd effect some change, however small, m itho supposed direction of the picturesque. This is especially the case in the suburbs, ■where every coign of vantage is seized upon •whereon to placo somo object—from a flower 'box to a conservatory—to break the "long unlovely street," and lend it some touch of ieauty. There, every foot of ground is prized and made the most of, in the way of garden, and from tho pains that arc taken with it may bo gathered to no small extent tho character of tho occupier. I kayo iv my mind's eyo a long row of suburban villasiu the south-wostom district, very .small and but semi-detached, but re joining in the high-sounding name of Caven dish tirovo. Each pair of these twins in brick was originally the counterfeit pre sentment of the others ; but a bay window or :l bow has been thrown out from time to •time, or a balcony added, or a verandah, or even but a supplementary porch, which ■suflicca to bestow some little distinctiveness, At the back of each runs a lonfi narrow plot of ground, of precisely tlic same length and breadth in all cases, and originally present ing (o the boholdor but a patch of grass— io Scotch term of ''back green" correctly describes them; but at tho present date and season, which is late July, all these arc gardens more or less bright with blossom, and paying their voluntary tax in more or less of fragrance to the fragrant summer breeze. t?o very modest are flic means of the dwellers m Cavendish Grove that there is not ono greenhouse in tho whole row ; the flowers arc for tho most part of the cheaper kind; and if a tree is to be seen, be sure it is because Nature herself placed it there, and Man—tho enterprising Builder —did not think it worth while to grub it up. No aloes in tubs insult the scanty shrubs that iidorn these Paradises ; but there are arbours, small indeed yet out of all proportion to tho pleasure-grounds about them ; grottoes looking like some handful of curiosities which one picks .up in an afternoon's ramble by the sea-shore, nnd, getting tired of, drops on the way home ; and fountains of microscopic size. In Hummer the inhabitants may be almost said to migratel from their houses into these miniature Kdeiis, which they find to be a cheaper method of obtaining change than by going into the country, or on the Con tinent, and infinitely more convenient. It naay be '• cocßneyfled' but to my thinking it is a pleasant and touching sight to be hold these denizens of the City thus mak ing tho most of tho scanty breathing-space that fate Ims allotted to them, ;uul playing " Green Fields and Arcady" on ho limited a stage. The garden of No. 7, Cavendish Grove, is no bigger than the rest, but it is beyond all question the most tastefully laid out. It eschews grottoes ; but in the centre of its little lawn there is a tiny fountain, which keeps up, juggler-like, a golden ball, that rises, falls, ami climbs again its silver thread in a very metaphor-suggesting man ner. At the end, remote frrini the house, an elm tree that looks quite stately by comparison with its surroundings, over hangs some garden seats, and helps to keep up the semblance of seclusion. Such lines, indeed, as—

Deop In tho shady silence of a valo. Fur sunken from the healthy breath of morn,

Far from tho llcry noou and ovo'b ono star, could, it mus be confessed, be hardly applied to'this retreat; but it was tolerably sequestered, and at least admitted of the little party at present in occupation of it conversing together unheard and almost unseen. The group consisted but o£ tyirce persons—Stephen Durham, the proprietor of No. 7, Cavendish Grove, and his nephew Matthew Helston and his wife; the two young people were nominally lodgers, but fhc three (and one other) all lived together in a manner so friendly and familiar that it would never suggest the relationship of landlord and tenants. Matthew and Uncle Stephen were connected together not only by the blood which is thicker than water— for that, alas !is not always cohesive—but by the far firmer ties of friendship and feeling. Though the one was a very young man, and the other a septuagenarian, they ■had tastes and sympathies in common; tho older, too, had held out his hand to the younger at a certain crisis of his life, when lie had seemed about to lose all footing in :thc world, and helped him on to firm, or tolerably firm, ground, and Matthew Hel ston was no ingratc. Benevolence, how over, could not be said to be the leading feature of Stephen Durham's character; his tastes, were too exceptional, his mode of :life had been too excluded, to admit of that: but where he liked he loved, and •what ho did do for his fellow-creatures was done without stint. His white hair, which was still abundant, and the long white beard, as line as though it were of spun glass, gave him.a venerable and philan thropic, appearance ; but the keen grey eyes and tho deep lines in the wrinkled face somewhat detracted from this. A student and a. recluse, he had in fact been at odds with the world from an early date, and had Iji.it an indifferent opinion of it. Neverthe less, it was very clear that he had made exceptions in this matter, from the exiffes sion of content and tenderness with which, as ho leant back on tho comfortably cushioned garden-seat, he regarded his two 'fiompauions. Matthew Helston was a man of about eight-and-twenty, but his thin and delicate features made him appear older. He had an old man's habit, too, when in repose, of supporting his broad and prominent fore head witb his fingers, as though it were too heavy for him, and a slow though melodious mode of speech which tended to increase his years in the eyes of others. He was undoubtedly handsome: his brown eyes were large and lustrous, and his brown, hair curled crisply over his forehead, in a manner, one is wont to .associate with the portraits of Byrou. But there all similarity uetweeu Matthew Helston and thenoblo poet ended, j Delicate of constitution, though not abso lutely an invalid, ho had nono of the vigour or ilan of youth: his thought had some thing of the sluggishness as well as of the maturity of a riper age ; without being the victim to morbid disappointment, the con sciousness of having missed his mark in life seemed to be eyer present with him, and, as he might have himself expressed it—for

he was of a mechanical turn-clogged the wheels of bung. When alow, a profound melancholy would often settle upon him, but his fecc when turned to his uncle w^ always a look of cheerfulness and content, and when it rested on his yottnc wife never failed to light up with an meflable tender ness, born of love and a vague fear of loss, which always haunted him in respectto her amd just now more than «ver, l<or Sabev. as he called his Isabel, was as fragile a « she was fair, and in a few months womd for the first time become a mother. Witii out being beautiful, she had all the charms that youth and grace and gentleness can bestow ob woman. Her hair was brown, like her husband's, But'much, lighter, and, instead of curling crisply, descended in Rrcat folds and masses about her. ike a vc.-y garment. She moved with the dainti ness and elegant of a fawn, and, like a fawn', was (playful and- timid* Her dark eyes were bright and animated, a-s was the whole expression of her features; and though but a few years younger than her husband, she was the antipodes of mm m this respect, that she was youth personilied, the very type of girlhood. It was as dim cult for Matthew to imagine her being aden with the cares of maternity as that a Uower should bear a burden, and hence the sharpest of his heart-aches. But he knew little of the nature of women—how not only the hard ones—that is, tlioso who have unsexed themselves and become cruel—are, unfor tuoately tough as leather, but even the soft ones—the gentlest, and apparently the most fragile—have, thank Heaven, a miraculous vitality, which, provided they are not wounded through their affections, bears them up against what would seem to be overwhelming odds, both physical and : The labours of the day, which hare been very different in their three cases, are over, and* these, the chief personages in our tale, are sitting together in their little garden.at what nuns call "recreation," and which was indeed as .simple and innocent an amusement as could be indulged in even in a nunnery. Matthew Helston, with one hand on his wife's shoulder, was reading the last Idyll of the King (which he had brought home with him that day from the publisher's),' and the other two were listening to him. His line and somewhat solemn voice suited well with the Idylls, as did his natural mood, and Ids wife might well be pardoned for thinking- him unrivalled as ft reader. Amy, her sister (of whom more anqn), used to declare that with a Shakespeare, a couple of candles, and a glass of water, dear Matt could make a fortune in this capacity— in (hr. provinces: <i qualification that made Sabey very wrath. She was listening to him bow as though to the music of the spheres. Old Stephen Durham* with half shut eyes, and a hollowed hand against his cars, that hinted of his seventy years, was not so pleased, though he had nothing to lind fault with in Hie reader. Up to the death of Modrcd he showed no great inter est in the narrative, till it arrivod at those noble lines,

So all day long this iioibc of battlo rolled Amon« tno mountains by tho winter sou, when "like a horse that hears the corn-bin open," he packed his cars and gruuted, " Ha! that's line ! " "But it isn't new, uncle,"laughedSabey. "That was ia the 'Mort d'Arthur,' you know." "Of course, I know, you baggage, re turned he (though he had forgotten it). "The old songs are best, even of your modern bards, and those too are on the wane. The very song birdu themselves, I do believe, ure dying out." •'Uome, tell the truth, uncle," said Sabcy ; "you were thinking of tho Repub lican blackbird of which we read in the newspaper yesterday." " Well, perhaps 1 was," confessed the old mau smiling. " Any slick suffices to beat a dog with." " What was the Republican blackbird ? " inquired Matthew. " Well it was n bird of your feather," ex claimed the old gentleman, "the last of those French ones who were taught the 1 Marseillaise' iv 1848. I have heard them myself in the Calvados country ; they used to sing in the convent garden, rather to the scandal of the good monks, gome brute, it seems, shot his last one. It was quite grey; but, unlike us Humans, had kept its prin ciples though it had changed its coat." "It seems to.mo you two pick up a deal of information," "observed Matthew, affect ing a grumbling air, " while I am chained to my desk.1' " his dtsk ! Did I hear Matt talking of his desk ?" cried one in clear musical tones from the parlour window, which opened on to some iron steps communicating with the garden. Then, as she ran lightly down them to join the rest, "Why, Matt sits 'with a crown of gold on a throne,' like the king of the Mermen, and only gets off to walk upon Tom Tiddler's ground all among the gold and the silver," The fact was, Matthew was the chief clerk, or one of them, in a great jewellers' firm, and detested his employment, over which, as in this instance, his sister-in-law, Amy, was therefore always tlirowing the glamour of her wit and fancy. Matthew himself would have endeavoured to ignore it, but Amj more wisely strove to tako a' humorous view both of his Work and his master. She was ojiite like enough to Sabey to be recognised as her sister, but she was like her with all sorts of differences. Though younger by some years, «Ke looked her elder; she was three or four inches taller; her hair and completion were darker; while their characters themselves, so far as they had been developed, wcreiagrcat con trast to one another. .

Sabey*s very being was merged in that of her husband; she Raw the world through his eyes, and almost thought through him - though her thoughts were not second-hand in a vulgar sense ; whereas Amy was ot a masterful and observant ftpirit. Old Stephen called her "the Coming Woman;"—whether she was so or not, she had educated herself in the completcat modern style, and carried oil' the lirst prize from the Ladies' College, in itself an immaterial one, but which had subsequently gained her one of the best preferments—namely, a post of one hundred pounds a year—that it lies in the way of governesses to obtain. Un to that date she had been a guest in good Stephen Durham's little establishment, but now she not only paid her share of the expenses, but had in sisted, much to the indignation of the rest, on repaying bjr degrees her arrears of debt; so that by this time, as they all thought and said (to one another), taking into the account the sunshine that her presence there dili'used among them, the obligation was greatly on the other side.. Yet she had a hard life of it, had Amy, if a life of toil is necessarily hard; she left homo immediately after breakfast,, and did not return to it till, as on this occasion, the day was well spent and supper-time almost at hand. But then, oh, then—it was to her like coming home from school is to a schpol-boy. Her holiday-time began five days in the week at 6 p.m., but on Saturdays earlier; and un like most school-boys, sue had earned it. "Sit down, Amy," cried Sabey, with mock imperiousness. "I won't have Matt teased, nor even interrupted. He is reading the 'Passing of Arthur. " All right, dear, let him pass," and she pulled out from a side pocket some work and a thimble (for she could never be idle

even for a moment), and sat down with the rest. Not a word did she interpose tor full five minutes, till the reader came to- Then drew ho forth the brand Kxculibur,! And o'ei- him, drawing it, the winter moon. Urightening the skirts of a long "loud, ranfortn. And smirkled. keen with frost, against the hilt, For all tho haft twinkled with diamond sparKs, Myriads of topaz lights and jacinth wort Of subtlest jewellery; then she exclaimed, " Oh, what a pity Mr Sicnct is not here I " "Mr Signet! What on earth can you want him here for t" exclaimed Matthew, indignant at the interruption in bo line a passage, but still more so at the introduc tion of his employer's name. "Well," said Amy, "because he would enjoy it so; I mean, all about_ the ' diamond sparks' and 'topaz lights and 'jacinth work'—it's quite in hi.s way, you ""My dear Amy, I shall never see. that passage again," said Matthew reprovingly, and vet unable to restrain a smile, with out thinking of the chop. The quotation is rather in the jewellery line, certainly ! "Of course it is; can't you fancy Mr Signet as the bold Sir Bediverc 1 " "No, /can't," continued Amy, that is, so far as not throwing away Excahbur is concerned. When lie saw 'the wonder of the hilt,' and the diamonds in it, 1 am sure lie could never have thrown it into the water even the third time. It would have been too much for his professional feelmgs._ i Matthew had closed the book mechani cally at the mention of Ids employer s name, and" his smile was a forced one as he listened to the girl's playful words. 1 think it very hard," she rau on, " that you have never iutroduccd me, Matt, to Mr Signet. He must be like the Prince in .the fairy talc, I'm sure, whose words were pearls and diamonds, and at all events he must have plenty of them to give away. If lie took a fancy to a young woman—any deserving and well-conducted person like my-elf, for example—his little cadeaux would be worth having ; whereas I Here a curious circumstance happened. A rose, presumably urged by a human hand, executed a parabola over the-neigh bouring wall, and fell at her feet. Its colour immediately communicate/i itself to the face of the fair speaker, and cut her elo quence short. "Oh, traitress!" cried Sabey, clapping her hands delightedly. " Look at her, Matt, look at her blusiiiug with, conscious guilt!" . " I can't help people tin-owing lubbisn. over the garden wall," said Amy, raising her voice so that the offender might hear her. "Who can it be, I wonder? "I'll prosecute the fellow," cried old Stephen in pretended ire. '•You had better not, uncle, replied Sabey. '• Why not ? don't spare lum on my account, I beg," said Amy. " Not at all, my dear," rejoined her sister. "I only thought it dangerous, because he a a lawyer." Everybody knows the satisfaction with which the discomiii ure of tho wittiest per sonage in a company is received; and the little party were delighted with this retort, which rcdnced Amy to silence. Presently she eaid, with a charming af fectation of humility, "Frank wants to know whether he may come in to supper.' "Oh, (hat's what a rose thrown over a garden wall means, is it ?" exclaimed Uncle Stephen, laughing. "The language of (lowers was not ko explicit in my time." "Nor in miue," said Matthew. "The tiling reminds me more of those systems of memoria tcchnica where a whale in a sentry box is made to suggest the date of the battle of Hastings, or a camel with a tomtit on its back calls to .mind some verse in Kevelations." " You have not said whether Frank is to come, SVbcy," observed Amy demurely. "My dear, of course he may come; pray tell him so." "I have," said Amy; "at least it he wasn't to come, I should have thrown the rose back." "A simple and ingenious system of tele graphy," observed Matthew, smiling; "and above all," he added with a sign, "it works,"

Matthew Helston was a theoretical in ventor ; that is to say, he was tho author of some admirable inventions, which seemed perfect until you tried to put them in practice—when they had failed utterly. " I have no doubt,' 1 said Sabey quickly —for it was not well to let Matthew dwell upon his mechanical disappointments— " that Amy could let Mr Barlow know by a mere change of signal what wo have got for supper." " Of course," said Amy, who had now quite recovered herself. "If I threw him an apple it would mean crab, or an onion it would signify tripe or Irish stew. The combinations of our connotativc code arc practically unlimited." This last sentence was not only an ex cellent imitation of Matthew's style when in his engineering vein, but was delivered with all the gravity and deliberation that distinguished him under such circum stances. Even Sabey smiled, though she thought it rather irreverent in Amy thus to make fun of Matthew, who, to do him justice, himself joined in the laugh that shook tho rest; as it ended, there camp like an echo a fainter but no less appreciative laugh from the other side of the gardert wall, that showed that Mr Barlow, attorney-at-law, had sharp ears and could enjoy a joke. It was all mere family fun, no doubt, without any pretensions to repartee or epi gram ; but in the wholesome air of love and homo such light things float; nor, it must be confessed, were the company themselves more dense than one oecassionally finds to bo the case in certain highly rarefied and artificial atmosphores.

CHAPTER 11. A SUBURBAN SYMPOSIUM.

I AM afraid it was a poet, and a true one, who once wrote,

Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is-Lord forgive ua I—cinders, ashes, dust.

But between* the hut and the palace there we many kinds of dwelling houses—Agur's Building', as I once heard a house-agent term them, '" because Agur's prayer, you know, was for neither riches nor poverty, and these lots are for your middle-class people:" in these, rather than in the two extremities of the social scale, is true hap piness usually to be found, and, moreover, though the statement may be surprising, the best food. The preparation of what one has to eat is an act Vhlch is rarely carried to perfection by hirelings; these will pro vide, indeed, the richest and of course the tiie most expensive dishes, but not (such, at least, is my experience) the daintiest. I have otten sat at rich men's feasts and won dered at the seeming relish with which they swallowed things which 'would never have passed, muster with the wives of some men who have but a tenth part of their incomes. For it is the wives who arc responsible for these matters, and when they are too proud to give their own superintendence to thorn, it is the husbands - and, alas! the husbands' friends—who suffer from the omission. If Mrs Bullion, the millionaire's consort, would only deign to give some of that valuable time and taste which she expends upon the subject of blue china to the things served on the china, of course her table would be infinitely better than that of the wife of Mr

Bullion's chief clerk; but as matters stand, the latter's villa at Bayswater is in many cases'positively-a better place to dine at than the former's mansion in Eaton Square. The term " administrative capacity " is just now far from being in good odour. When any member of the aristocracy, who cdnnot spell, and is ashamed or afraid to learn, has been pitchforked into some high position by his influential friends, with that public failure for result that might have been expected, we are always told that, whatever - may be—and indeed are—«his shortcomings, he has great "administrative capacity." The phrase has therefore lost some of its force; but yet there is no other that-applies so well to the capable mistress of a household. In the old time it was said of her that she was not afraid of^ the snow for her maidens by reason of tli'e scarlet cloth she wove to environ them ; but her maidens and she have since then fallen out distressingly. She is really not always to blame if they are not all they ought to be, for the bonds of domestic discipline have been relaxed by circumstances over which she has no control; but for the " food for the household " she is still answerable, and accordingly as thi3 is good or not, doth she perform or fail in her duty. No. 7, Cavendish Grove, was not a resi dence which, judging from its dimensions, you would have set down in your visiting book under the head "Places to dine at," unless you had had experience of its hospi talities ; but the fact was that old Stephen Durham was what women call " very par ticular " as to what he ate, while both Mrs Helston and her sister had that artistic skill in the preparation of food which is often found in really refined feminine natures, aod would much oftener be put in practice than it is—to the delight and delectation of mankind—but for false pride, and a certain conventional vulgarity which supposes itself to be a delicate fastidiousness. lam no great believer in birth or blood, but I do think that none but a gentleman or lady (in England, at least) can make a salad: there seems to be a consciousness of weak ness in many houses of the middle class in this respect, for how else can one account in them for the presence of that hateful compound called " salad mixture 1" Again, let lnortouch (with all the delicacy the sub ject ft&Bands) upon pie-crust: few young ladies,' it is true, can make it; fewer still will own to ever having stooped to such a task; but when they can do, I should like to see the male Fsench cook that can rival them. There are certain snow-flakes on the top of it that only the lightest and most delicate hand can compass. I had once the honour of 1 being invited to a dinner, cooked by two young ladies, which I protest threw all the club feasts of which I have ever partaken into the shade—pardon a digression evoked by a sublime reminiscence; the household or which we speak had not, of course, the materials for such a banquet. But on the little parlour table, that July evening there was a supper, ■of small cost, and destitute of all the accessories of fashion save a few sweet flowers, which was cooked by divkr ties and fit for gods. A couple of chickens with a salad, a raspberry and currant tart, and some strawberries and cream, make but a small figure in a mam; but had you tasted that salad and that tart, your grace after sucli a repast would have expressed, let us hope, a genuine gratitude, Mr Frank Barlow, a lawyer of seven-and twenty or to, was the only guest; he was far from being a stranger t& the company, although strikingly unlike them in appear ance ; a good-looking blonde-bearded young fellow, with keen eyes for a flaw in a docu ment, but which were not just now in search of ilawfe. He had been recently made a partner in it small but thriving legal firm, the business bf which, to judge by his intelligent face, he was likely to increase ; ■and he was about to be made a partner, as may be guessed, in another firm, whereof the junior member was now present, and had consented to merge her name in His, and be known for the future no more as Amy Thurlow, but as Mis Barlow. The little party, therefore, even with this addi tion, may be still considered as a family group. Barlow was complimenting his host, as he well might,' upon the excellence of his entertainment; and especially upon the contents of the claret jug, wherein " cup " had been brewed by certain celestial fingers. ~ . "Well, yes, sir, I like to have things good about me," returned the old man, well pleased, but in a slightly Johnsonian man ner which was natural to him save when speaking to those very intimate with him. " I cannot but think that I am come Of the race of some ricli king or prince in former times; for never yet saw I any man that had a greater desire to be a king and neb. than I have, and that only that I may make good cheer, do nothing, and plenti fully eurich all honest and learned men."

It was rather embarrassing t» Mr Frank Barlow that he was often in doubt whether his host was quoting from Kabelaie, or some other recondite author, or speakimr in his ovrn proper person. He contented himself on tnis occasion with replying that riches were of greater advantage even to the wise and philosophic than wasfupposed, quite apart from the go«d they enabled their possessors to bestow on others; because they set the mind free from sordid cares. Whether he had any thought in his mind of Matthew's cose or not., the latter seemed to take the allusion to himself, for he looked up and said, " For my part, Barlow, I think nothing so bad for man or woman as the possession of great wealth." '•There is the danger of purse-pride, no doubt," allowed the Jawyer. "I have noticed, too, that the richer a man grows, the more dogmatic—and as a rule the less valuable—Ms opinions become; he is sur rounded with expectants, and therefore meets with little contradiction." "That is not what Matt means,"put in his wife. " His objection to great wealth is that it petrifies the feelings." "It is curiously—though it is true, somewhat grossly-illustrated of its bad effects," observed the old man, "how all jewels of great price—what one may call historic jewelsi-have been mixed up with fraud and;crime. Take, for example, the history of the Koh-i-noor—which extends from authentic records over 2,000 years—of what cruelty and bloodshed has it not been the cause since Nadir Shah compelled the great-grandson of Aurungzebe to change turbans with him." "What did he dp that for?" inquired

Amy. . "-Well, Mahomed Shah was so indiscreet as to wear the gem in his turban during his interview with his conqueror, and the.lattei; proposed exchanging headgear in proof ft amity. Then Kunjeet Sing compelled pis guest and prisoner, Shah Shujah, who wt>re the thing on his arm, to part with it for a nominal sum ; and afterwards on his death bed was himself only prevented from leav ing it out of the family.from the circum stance that he was too weak to sign his name. Fortunately, he fculd only signify assent by a nod of his head." " If it was in presence %i witnesses, one might have made a nice'point of t"iat," observed Barlow. • I "The strangest fact abbut the jewel, continued Uncle Stephen| with sublime indifference to this professional interrup tion, "was that it lost f]»ir-fifths of its original weight through ui| Skilful cvUting.

Poor Borgio, who so bungled i it, had to tJi all his possessions to the Em jperor Awim^ zebe, and very narrowly savi fed hig heal*^' " If Mr Signet had been t jhe empemttt.! man would have lost it to a c iead certs£it»»i remarked Amy-en observation which & ccivcd general assent exeepkf rom MattheiT who saidjfothing. His ccJuntenSetfS. expressed dissatisfaction, w-hich eatisedM Barlow, who was always (tryingwmSßl ; i matters all round, though < (thrpugfiwarfß-' knowledge of the actual, state of affiuX not always with the-.desired effectaKP mark, "I daresay Mr Signet is nofSs bad fellow away from Ins 'business " ■' "You miijht just as -well say, Foul, that apart from.lds colo>ur,,. a bkckalrtfe - was white enough," observed Aniy.^^, "Well, for my own pfjart," retonwdjH lawyer, " I like a man tcri b e wrapped**©'! his own calling—that is;^ pf course " (£2 he stammered and looke<d ,it Matthew) "S? liis natural calling. No doubt, from in r hoar, the man's manner jia badj biM^ are lots of men with bold manners »ftsi in reality very decent Mllows." '■&* hQ ' "That is not like ;your knowljta m mankind, Mr Barlow,'!" obseiTedTjJi, Stephen, asjie poured sh spoonful of eflS over his currant tart, if"Mr Simefciiis: would tell you that in'; a pdarl otlBJ pearancc the layers generally bcco&jS? ■ dull and lustreless aaj' you remo^i jS?J When the outer skin lias no polishtiS small hope indeed for '/the kernel." . "On the other ha-nd," said thS*!^-. quickly, " there is sujch a thing diamond." ,'j . "^ The young/cllow rjietmt weU.ttfui. clear to his betrothetli that the toptolfe&S pursuing was distas/teful to at leart ofi member of the littleiicDmpany. "Mv Jml-;'.' Frank," whisperedsjliesignificantly &*& one finds a rough |lianiond.the xm W tiling that can be d<|ne with it is io-ftt'ltl' " Well, I must saly I differ withyoaM? to the mode of treatment of the subjecL" he answered in thAsaine loty toilek' ■■'}? is an unpleasant lone, I allow; but it ii ridiculous tff ignor* it. It is mnch bette ■ to meet these things face to face.'! ■ \\ " Well,' yes, eveja Sir Signet himeeltkli view of MrDurhajni'swonderMknovSE of the liistory- jot precious stones! at example, which Matt tells me he hasstS finger-ends (as ijtdeed he sequis: to hm everything), would it not be politi <-~4 ---the man to the Lt^use ? You have no idea how the wheel of business, wheanuk m as in this case (somewhat ott^ctl^U""' capable of beinfe lubricated sKfjeFrS by a little socifl attention, fhanvwl found things tile least Unpleasant at the office with Batci I always made B-annkof dropping it at ilrs Bates's 'at homes' oa the Saturday ftftcmoons. Then, pw the lemonade and ites Bates and I rulibea each other's angles idown, and all Wai'smooth again." r ' -':■■■. Amy shook! her head. "This oatijl goes deeper, I ; and there isi^jreS Mrs Bates iv rthe case, sir, to mike things pleasant for everybody. 'ITie tfMfi^rMitt lates his work and hates his naster." Mr Barlow shrugged his 'dibuldkii There was a sh'glit eontenipt if the action which did not escape Ms coMpaion. "You are'not to suppose,, Frank, flat Matt complajns," she said quickly.' -WBe alwajrs doest his dtityV/lhont a miirmw'. But as to Mr Signet, I tion't- think he Avould ever I ask him to this house; not I would he cofne, perhaps, if he was asked." "Do you mean'fo say Re yotMl thiifl? :!; it was ' chepky' in liis subordioate ?", " "I think, from what I liave heardlof him, he certainly would." "' ■>•',.• Mr BarloM', with half-shut eyes, indulged; in a silenL but hearty fit of nierrimeat—a device which native' prudflftee and niu«h •> attencftince at -courts of la*1 had tah^ht ' him. • ' ■■■■. "That is really very funriy.fiijwrftaid* "Mr Signbt thinking it a co»di|pon'-tO j come here'!" And his 'eye^&piifcfctfhi one to the other tenants of the:littlc par lour, to rest at last on Amy hisuelf, as a bee miglit settle after his iour-ot.wte m& garden upon the fairest fr<wsl|||]L ; "Theman must be a fool, my teM&S " On the contrary, he is .'.&'-SHB^i" "Urn! that makes it woree,!'• masei Mr Barlow. "I am really .sorrjrfcr mot Matt Has he to go out to'titylmßm " Yes, if you can calj' it '^jra/lfe starts at tlirce in the morning." i-ji "Great Heaven! And heSjjwuHp.is not over-punctual, I suppose? s%& "She sometimes keeps him)»wtiiigfo£ hours. Hush ! JMatt is lookpilis wife, and sees we are talking about pin.. It Is

CHAPTER 111.

— GEEEN AGE AND HOABT SOUTH. After supper Mrs Helstm % §&%'(* .-.-,■ the little piano, aud played to w a&g-' ing. The former, though :»r ( lrom being an. surtist, was a creditaßle;jpenOttilei| *M ■:,. from long practice suited m& her sisj*rß '■■ voico—which was a very s^e»,t ttno-Ji«t^ perhaps, than a better pl»j>er troulq wt dona. Their materials. were^PEft-*™? I*'1*' chicflv old ballads set to.well-knomiMre; but the effect produced; i#3f#W6|K good. With tW.pfeMW.'l" 1 events* it waß much more sa«essnu4Ma any of those elaborate perfonfctaoM vo« ha'e been that appeal »Vtoif*HiP!«WS tht ear in fashionable IbWJ-MW" 1?!,: dificulty of executing i.*]]idv«W& mm sufmounted, irresistibly remiwWlJ.l^ Jchnson's famous rejoinder. v«W;,#ff wis distinctly heard, and, Stall "ffii? 0?" dtrful, was worth hpanbk', «* Stephen exceedingly objeoteoto theasuu sicrifice of sense to sound. .He used wwu a story, which we hare lio reason M|op lelieve, of having heard ft yoWg Iwjf suißj ■ 'Thou who so gently wnlkest overme, *nd who stuck to the assertion ™~.^sr dne ran. She had sung it'»'»r-7«irs, and no one had objected to it before i; ano she did not at all see tliat'Mnstif^^ addressed to a ilea or a % <*£*$? pointed out. It was with:the utmost <u» culty that she was persuwpW acfljpv " watchest" as the right, «WSi< *~ • Wlieii the fine old ballads *areJfMßHw>.. : : I am sorry to say that Mr Frank Itolow put in areiinijst'fortkeAfAßfiiPfSff ■<■ gome folks do," which was ■<%&>s■ W greit spirit, and broiight'%PY«|MS Sibst hilarious conclusion; iW J£ »™J geneyally took'his leave abont-k^-Wjg at West. He was a W^^'fW' believed in such proverbs as "WyfJ*® &t., though perhaps he was wtoRHfS about becoming " wise "as ■l£V tr l?£ tlM A' he had been a sailoror asalefflWjj^ "S of a lawyer, he voul^bftve<WP» » T calling and made, himself ri#l*S with it, lor a" caying was A«*Xr means to an end. He Lad no jwfigg' bent, and his tastes were ttwH «*™|*"g ' at large, and the reverse of fastl^ 10>S f e lt spite of which, as oftet ,)*&**. l considerable contempt if Nature had endowed in » ncr; nor am I quito ccrto tp..-_ ichoice of a songW not; beeft«' ; gj view of moral reproof. "..J^^r guessed, however, that those uveij" Some folks get Kreyl^i,' Some folks do, somfrfW^ ™, Brooding o'er their ear»-_ But that's not me nor yqn had had any the most distfelre^ n9 t her brother-in-law, she wonlo ea^ff .- ;

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, FEBRUARY 4 1882.

2