which he winced as from a red-hot iron. Gentlemen of all ages allow themselves considerable latitude in the discussion of topics which perhaps are better not discussed at all. By assuming to speak from experience they would fain infer that they themselves are irresistible; and a man who confines himself to generalities, need never fear reproof or contradiction. For my part, I think Bayard is a better example than Lovelace. I think he whom a woman has trusted should for that reason be the champion not the accuser of her sex. I think the braggart who assumes a triumph to which he is not entitled deserves to meet as summary a fate as the indiscreet intruder in a certain Irish fairy tale, and I join cordially in the enchanted distich : Woe worth the coward that ever he was born, Who did not dare to draw the sword before he blew the horn. Poor Gilbert hated the very sight of Flippant now. He wondered he could ever have listened patiently to that beguiling tongue, or looked without loathing on those hyacinthine locks, the pride of a coiffeur's art. He said as much to Holyhead one day as they turned out of St. James's-street, and the energetic peer at once avowed his opinion that Flippant was a d-d old humbug. But, after all, Gilbert, my boy, women are very much alike! And then he fell to talking of Bravoura. Of Bravoura! and Gilbert's type all the time was Ada Latimer. He had now but one object in the day, or rather one in every two days. This was his walk across the Park with his enslaver. Three times a week for ten minutes he could converse with Mrs. Latimer. Thirty minutes a week, or two hours in a month. At this rate he could enjoy her society for one day in every calendar year; or about six weeks of his whole remaining life supposing he lived to seventy! And for this he was content to barter comfort, liberty, friends, ambition, everything he had in the world, and hug himself on the exchange. Surely value received is but a relative term, incapable of accurate measurement or calculation. This was one of Gilbert's white days. A late breakfast to shorten the time as much as possible-a restless stroll out of doors to survey his ground, as it were, and enjoy by anticipation the delights of his afternoon-a total neglect of all business and duties, and a great disinclination for society; then an elaborate toilet as the afternoon drew on, which unfortunately, with a well-made, good-looking subject, who moreover always looked like a gentleman, could not be spun out to any great length; afterwards an early appearance to share the solitude of the Park with the son of Peleus, which was unnecessary as it was wearisome, inasmuch as she never came till nearly seven o'clock, to be followed by two long nervous hours of suspense and anxiety, avoiding his friends and unconsciously cutting his acquaintance. He used to think the clock at the corner must have stopped, so provokingly slow was the progress of that shining minute-hand. What misgivings, too, lest she should not pass, after all! She might be illshe might be gone out of town— she might be anything that was most unlikely. He would bear the suspense no longer. This should be the last time. To-day he would tell her, come what might, and put a stop to it one way or the other. Yes; no woman alive should make a fool of him beyond a certain point. At last! There she was. God bless her! To-day he would certainly tell her! But he didn't tell her, nevertheless, for she never gave him an opportunity, because she loved him; and he never made one for the same reason. For forty minutes or so after the walk he was soothed and calm and tolerably comfortable. Then the reaction began again; and the worry and fidget to last for another sevenand-forty hours. These were the white days. The black ones were ditto repeated, without the intervening period of 1861.] A Disappointment. delight. They passed very slowly; and he was glad when they were over. Yet am I not sure that they were the most uncomfortable, after all. Now, it may seem strange that a gentleman of Mr. Orme's standing and experience should have found such difficulty in obtaining a tête-àtête with the lady of his affections, who was moreover her own mistress; and I am not prepared to say that Gilbert did not know perfectly well where she resided, although with intuitive delicacy he had never asked the question of herself, else where would be the use of those functionaries in white hats and red waistcoats, who with singular attention to the unities,' adopt the very colours of the Post-office Directory and Court Guide? Indeed, he had walked past the house many a night when the moon was up, and Ada fast asleep; but he had never ventured to call upon her, as he would have done long ere this had she been a duchess; nor had he ever intruded on the music-lessons in Belgrave-square or the villa, though often sorely tempted at both. This backwardness explains itself at once to those who know by experience the thoughtfulness and consideration of true affection, though to the Flippant school it would seem an inexcusable waste of time. That 'faint heart never won fair lady,' may be as true as any other proverb, but the stouter the heart the fainter it is likely to in aggression on the feelSo ings of her it really loves. Gilbert contented himself perforce with his alternate afternoons, and longed and pondered, and resolved to take some decisive measures, and didn't! prove any At last, one dull afternoon, when the Park was nearly empty from the combined influence of a fête at Chiswick and a drizzling rain, there was no Mrs. Latimer. Gilbert bounced about, and made himself very hot and angry, and at last resigned himself to the fact, after he had waited till eight o'clock, and was wet to the skin, attributing it to the weather, which he cursed with improper energy, and wishing he could annihilate the intervening a bright hot afternoon, and all Ada, too, had in the meantime It was one of the white days, and Mrs. Latimer was at luncheon in the villa previous to Miss Jones's music-lesson. Bella, being late as usual for she was as unpunctual as she was good-natured-insisted on her teacher sitting down with her to roast chicken when they ought to have been murdering a duet. They were quite alone, with the exception of a butler, footman, and page-boy, and discoursed freely as if those domestics were both deaf and dumb. Bella was full of her evening in Belgrave-square, and loud in praise of Lady Gertrude, how she looked, what she had on, all about her. Mrs. Latimer felt she was treading upon dangerous ground; but she, too, had some acquaintance with Lady Gertrude; and there was a certain fascination in the subject that led her on against her will. She is very handsome,' said Mrs. Latimer, thinking of a certain family likeness which no one else could have traced, and very clever, and altogether a very charming girl.' "That she is!' exclaimed enthusiastic Bella. Now, if I had been a gentleman, I should have fallen in love with her too directly, and married her at St. George's, all in order, the first week in August. (Some more chicken, dear? Let me give you the merry-thought.) I declare I think Mr. Orme is a very lucky man!' "Why so? gasped Ada, turning as white as a sheet, and pushing her plate away. 'Oh! don't you know? replied Bella, still intent upon the chicken; 'they say he's engaged to her; and I'm sure the other night nothing could be more attentive. He's very nice, too, You met him here once, and sat next him at dinner. Don't you remember? Remember! Poor Ada! Luckily her companion was still so engrossed with the merry-thought that she did not remark how paler and paler grew the music-mistress's cheek; but the observant butler, who held stoutly by his master's opinion that there is nothing like old sherry, filled her glass by stealth to the brim. How the music-lesson went on after this, Ada knew no more than I do. Fortunately for her, a strong leavening of indignation, amongst her other feelings, prevented her giving way. "Then he was en gaged to be married all the time,' thought she, and if she was pale before, her cheeks burned with fiery blushes now, all the time he professed to be so glad to see me, And I-fool that I was meeting him, and watching for him, and longing so to see him. What must he think of me? What must he have thought of me all along? She would have liked to hide herself for a year. She was more angry with herself than with him. She was hurt, and sick at heart. But she must _go_through_her lessons. From the Regent's Park to Bayswater, from Bayswater to Knightsbridge, from Knightsbridge to Belgrave-square. There is no respite for the bees, and herein they sting themselves less poignantly with their sorrows, than do the idler drones. Ere she sat down to the piano-forte with Lady Gertrude, she began to think it might not be true. Women read other women easily enough, and the young lady's manner was scarcely that of a fiancée. Where was the dreamy look, the unconscious smile, the atmosphere of happiness, that diffuses itself around those who have attained their goal? Lady Gertrude was quick, lively, energetic, as usual; completely engrossed with her lesson, somewhat sarcastic also, and not the least in the world like a maiden pondering on her absent lover. Probably the whole report was but one of the idle rumours of the world. It made her crossexamine herself, though, pretty searchingly, the while her pupil warbled a cavatina, making two mistakes and a false note undetected; and she came to the conclusion that at least the walks must be discontinued from henceforth, she must break herself of this folly, for her own sake, for his sake; ah! then it would be easier; and so, no more sunshine for her, but the old gloomy life, darker than ever it had been before. It seemed hard, very hard. She would have liked to put her head in her hands, and cry till she got better. Lady Gertrude was singing false and unrebuked. A figure footman walked up to the piano-forte with a note- 'Mr. Orme's servant waiting for an answer, my Lady.' Again the cold sick feeling crept round Ada's heart. Her pupil stopped singing, read the missive, and flung it aside with the careless observation, 'No answer.' As it rested on the music-stand, Mrs. Latimer could not avoid seeing his handwriting on the half-turned page; it began-Dearest Gertrude.' This was the reason the walks were discontinued; and Gilbert driven to such a pitch of monomania as I am powerless to describe. It is not to be supposed that he sat quietly down under his privation. Would she have liked him better if he had? No; he called boldly at her lodgings; when I say boldly, I mean that he concealed his trepidation (which is after all the true definition of courage), and confronted a maid-of-all-work with as much sang froid as he could muster. 'Mrs. Latimer was not at home,' of course! When would she be at home?-equally of course 'It was very uncertain.' The maidof-all-work in furnishing her report, stated that 'the gentleman seemed quite disappointed-like; and my lady readers will best understand the confidence which Ada gathered from such an announcement, and the encouragement it gave her to proceed in that thorny path which, because it entailed a painful amount of self-sacrifice, she was persuaded must be the right one; Pleasant, but wrong,' and its converse seem to comprise the standard by which women regulate their duties and their relaxations. Then he tried the Villa, and found himself let in for a heavy luncheon tête-à-tête with the Alderman, and narrowly escaped a drive back into London with Bella in the sociable. Also he called in Belgravesquare about the accustomed hour of the music-lesson, and had not been there five minutes before Gertrude complained that her mistress had got a cold, and had written to postpone any further tuition sine die. Gilbert was at his wits' end. It was poor consolation to walk under her windows at midVOL. LXIII. NO. CCCLXXVI. 433 night, but he did it, notwithstanding; and she, lying wide-awake, and thinking how difficult it was to be good, heard his footfall on the pavement, and never doubted but it was the policeman! I have seen a dog sit up and beg at a closed door. I have seen a dog kicked and beaten for following its master. I have wondered at that canine instinct of fidelity which accompanies true courage and singleness of heart, and I have been sorry for the dog. Would Ada have been pleased to know the man who loved her was watching for hours under the gas-lamps only to be near her? would she have loved him better, or prized his devotion the less to be so secure of it? I do not know women well enough to give an answer. I only know what he thought of her the best, the purest, the noblest of God's creation; he could have bowed the knee to anything in the shape of a woman for her dear sake. Pacing up and down absorbed in this rational adoration of a closed shutter, he was the only passenger in the quiet street save one. Alas! for the ghostly figure that flitted round the corner in its dingy garments, and leered at him with dull, faded eye, and stretched a wan, dirty hand for alms, and accosted him in the hollow whisper that tells of sore trouble, and want, and weakness, and gin. You meet them every night, gentlemen. Every night of your lives, as you walk home along the echoing streets, from your clubs or other resorts, from wine, and friendship, and fascination, and merry-making,— home to the comfortable house, to the luxurious dressing-room next door to that sacred chamber where nestles the loved one, flushed and warm amidst her delicate white draperies, restless even in her sleep because you tarry long. Think of her whose only refuge is the ginpalace, whose daily bread is the degradation of the streets. For God's dear sake have pity on her! She was not always bad; she is not all bad now. You too have been in temptation, have you resisted it? You too have sinned, have GG you been punished as you deserved? Must this poor scapegoat bear the enormities of a whole people, and is yours the hand to drive her out into the wilderness, lost and lonely, and shut the gate of the fold against her for ever? The deeper she has sunk the more need has she of help. The virtuous have heaven and earth too on their side, but if all were good, Mount Calvary had been but a nameless hill to this day. You too must needs beg for mercy ere long. Hold! this is but a selfish consideration. Think of what One would have done had he been on earth. Is the Gospel a romance? or is it true that He said, 'Go thou, and do likewise?' There was five minutes' conversation between Gilbert and the hapless, abandoned wayfarer. A policeman walking his beat scanned the couple searchingly, and passed on. Ere he turned the corner, Gilbert had wished her a kindly 'Goodnight.' The poor woman couldn't speak for sobbing. It's not for the money,' gasped she, taking the glove out of his hand, and kissing it; it's not for the money, but the good words, the first I've heard this six months. God bless your kind heart! If every gentleman was like you, I wouldn't be what I am this night! So help me Him that made me, but I'll take your advice and try!' It is rather a waste of time to lounge about under the windows of your ladye-love, more particularly at midnight, and in an east wind On this occasion, however, Gilbert went to bed at 2 a.m., not entirely dissatisfied with the result of his walk. PUBLIC SCHOOLS. THERE is a trying crisis in the life of every boy when he begins to discover that his elders are not infallible, and when the natural expansion of his own mind forces him to think on many subjects other than those think who have hitherto trained him. He may, it is true, one day once more agree with them; but the points of view from which the boy and the man regard life are often radically distinct. And thus there arises at such a period a certain coldness and want of openness in a son's relation to his father, very trying to both, but especially so to the elder, who is puzzled and discouraged at such a response to his efforts. Such a crisis, to some extent inevitable, is greatly increased by the severance that takes place when the son goes to school. Cowper's words are painfully true. He is speaking of the boy's return home after his first experience of schoollife Arrived, he feels an unexpected change, * * * * * Here begins with most that long complaint For on entering into a school there knelt to pray each morning and each evening, and one such occasion neglected would have been grave matter of reproof for conscience; in his new world he finds that if |