story. Captain Jones had observed the mutual recognition pass between his friend and the lady in the box, and was greatly astonished.

"Why, Colonel,' he said, 'do you know her? You don't mean to say that you have had to go to the Hebrews, like younger men?' "Yes, I know her. But what on earth do you mean by asking whether I've been going to the Hebrews?'

'Well, I think it was a very natural question, under the circumstances.'

'I don't know what you are talking about. Who do you think that lady is, then?'

'I don't think at all, Colonel. I know that she's Mrs. Hart Moss, the female representative of one of the biggest moneylending firms in town; and they tell me she's a very good hand at the business.'

Colonel Punter made no reply, but became plunged in a deep and apparently distressing reverie, for he clenched his fist and almost ground his teeth, until he attracted the attention of Captain Jones, who had, in the meantime, been nodding recognitions to some people of his acquaintance.

'Why, Colonel,' said he, 'what's the matter? The sight of that Mrs. Moss seems to have disagreed with you awfully. Whom did you mistake her for?'

'It has disagreed with me,' said the Colonel grimly, but I see it all now. What you say, Jones, is quite true; she is a very good hand at her business.' Then suddenly his countenance brightened somewhat, and he added :

'Come and have something at the club after the play, and, if you will swear secrecy, I will tell you the whole story.'

6

And he did tell Captain Jones every detail, finishing the narrative with these words: So you see she made a regular catspaw of me, in order to find out if Verner was worth powder and shot. I suppose, as his people live abroad, she found difficulties in the ordinary methods of procedure.'

'I expect that you're about right, Colonel. By Jove! she's a clever woman!'

'I wonder she had the audacity, though,' said our gallant friend, his anger boiling up again for a moment. Why, I might make the whole matter public.'

'She knew you wouldn't, though.'

'And she's quite right,' said the Colonel, for I won't.'

AFTER AUTUMN.

I.

No more the shocks of Corn

Stand like twin sisters in the sunset glow,
Nor in the flush of morn

The ruddy reapers, shouting, come and go.
Earth's golden fields are gone ;

And lo, on barren plains the lurid Sun looks down.

II.

With Autumn song has fled;

The circling swallow scythes no more the air;
Upon its lonely bed

The drooping floweret pines, despite its prayer,
Then falls to die

Unpitied by a soul, unnoticed by an eye.

III.

Yet still in calm serene

Earth sets her troubled heart to simpler joys,
And beauty, else unseen,

On every trembling leaflet seems to poise;
The Thistle shakes her gown,

And from the sable folds, outflows the wingèd down.

IV.

Each morn the skies are set

In pearl, weird tinted as a wizard's hall;

The spider spreads her net

Intent to catch the raindrops as they fall,

And weaves along the road

Her crystal palaces to teach the world of God.

V.

As after ceaseless rain

The chill dank glades with drifted leaves are stored;

And by the bleak wind slain

The smitten reed hangs down its useless sword;

The beech in hues of red

And bronze mimics the dusky bracken's withering bed.

VI.

While round the dying hedge

The sere convolvulus curls amber veils ;

From strips of jutting ledge

The ranks of dewdrops file along the rails :

With every zephyr's breath

Each slips from his frail hold, caught in the arms of death.

VII.

O'er hill and field and wood

Not sorrow for joys fled, or news of death,

A sovran Calm doth brood,

A dove-like Peace, the sister twin of Faith,
Knowing anew with Spring

All things shall rise again in sweeter blossoming.

VIII.

So let the Winter come

Half like a thief, half like a lover stealing,

And gaze with motions dumb,

On every trembling leaflet downward reeling :

Thereon he'll make a bed

When winds and snows are drear, to lay his hoary head.

NOTES BY A NATURALIST.

HOW I BECAME ONE.

My home as a boy was in a quaint old fishing village close to the edge of the North Kent marshes. The place had an odd, irregular look; one would think its inhabitants had begun building from the shore up inland to a certain point, and then come back and finished along the water's edge. The top rooms of the houses generally projected over the pavement, with queer gables which were ornamented with grotesque figures. By the water stood old mills, warehouses, and shipyards, all having a decayed look. That business of some kind had once been carried on there the old wharves and fine houses showed, but when that was no one about the place in my time knew. It was entirely isolated from any other town or village. Railroads and steamboats were things known only by name to the general community. The odour of fish pervaded the place; whichever way you went, inland, or along shore, you saw fish not only outside but in the houses as well. To this day it is no favourite diet of mine. It is sometimes possible to have too much of a good thing. Nearly all the people got their living on the water. Poor they were, but a contented lot, and, as this world runs, honest. Now and again it would be gently hinted that they smuggled--who can say? the virtuous have enemies; they, perhaps, had theirs. One thing I can testify; if at any time a little medicine was needed, it was sure to come out of a very short-necked dark-green bottle, holding more than a pint, and that medicine was certainly made in Holland. The fishermen and their lads passed our house on their way to and from their fishing-boats which lay at anchor below in the marshes. On the return journey they were sure to have something in the shape of fish or wild fowl-for you would find a duck-gun on board all the boats-and to catch a sight of these was my principal hobby. When they found out this, they never passed the door without showing the boy' what they had got. To this day that is my title with the few that, are left who knew me as a child. Many were the questions I asked them about bird and fish. I tried to draw on my slate a dead curlew they

had shown me one evening. The next time the net was brought and opened for me to look at I showed them my curlew. From that time dates my roaming in the marshes where the birds lived. I never rested until the kind-hearted fisher-lads had taken me with them to see for myself the birds they talked about. Fortunately for me I could read well as a child, and any book I saw that contained animals or birds I read if I could possibly get at it. Very limited, however, were the publications of those daysat least, for the general public; the children now have books that you could not possibly have bought then for any money; they

did not exist.

I was often missed at home; no one knew where I went, and many were the reproofs that I drew upon myself-some of them very forcible ones, for coming home in the pickle I did. At last they let me have my run; the only question asked would be, 'Are you going in the marshes or into the creek?' Many a time have those fishermen brought me home on their shoulders, giving me a string of goggle-eyed flounders or other booty to take indoors, saying, 'Tell 'em you've bin with us.'

Before long I knew where to look for the birds, and could mimic their cries: the shriek of the curlew and his mournful whistle; the pewit (Vanellus cristatus), and the note of the stone curlew (Edicnemus crepitans), or thickknee-called in the marshes the king of the curlews. Placing the fingers in the mouth and whistling like the boys do in the street gives one of the bird's cries. I had plenty of room to move about, and no one interfered with me or the birds. It was not necessary. The Bird Preservation Act was not thought about at that time. The plover's eggs were left for the bird to hatch, and if the young were seen they might be picked up just to look at and be let go again. Bird and egg collectors had not reached our neighbourhood.

The miles of marshland teemed with bird-life. When the gun was used it was for the wild-fowl proper-geese, duck, widgeon, teal; but the waders that gave life to the dreary-looking pools were little troubled, for powder and shot with the fishermen meant money. When they fired at a bird they shot at something that would do for dinner. Fish may give you intellectual power, so some learned men say; I know for a fact over much fish-diet does not put much power into the body, and continued for any time it is a delusion.