our hero, "if she, like the old blind beggar of Bethnal Green, had come down with the £2,300 a-year. I should decidedly, to use a favourite expression of one of our clerks of works, have been in the centre of a difficulty."

"Or, in my more figurative term," said Fordbrad, "you would have found yourself in a hat."

"A pretty tall hat, too," remarked Sey

mour.

Sunday arrived in due course, and Seymour, turning slightly in his pew, before service commenced, observed papa, mamma, Susan, and her sister appear. The old man's eyes meeting those of Seymour, gleamed with an expression as bad as any animal's at the Zoological Gardens, and our hero was rather pleased to feel that his enemy would have to scramble over several pews, at the imminent risk of breaking his neck ere he could lay hands upon him.

The service proceeded, and, at the close of the prayers, the clergyman gave out the first four verses of the fifteenth Psalm.

Seymour was so absorbed by the words and

music that he did not raise his eyes until it
was drawing to an end, and then he noticed
that several men were looking at him intently
and in a most pointed manner. The reason
flashing upon him, he was hardly restrained,
by the sanctity of the place, from giving vent
to a fit of laughter, as the choir, who had (as
customary) selected the psalm, and who ought
to have been ashamed of themselves, sang-

"Who to his plighted vows and trust,
Hath ever firmly stood;

And, though he promise to his loss,
He makes his promise good."

His risible faculties were not checked by the
quaint expression on Fordbrad's face, and the
others near him; but a climax was reached,
and Seymour was compelled to smother his
face in a handkerchief, as he looked over at
the pew where the Wilsons sat; for as soon
as the old lady perceived his glances, she
made her daughter a sign, and the young
lady turned her back upon him. He was not
molested during the week, but was indirectly
told that Major Wilson walked about with a
big stick; and he was not slow in spreading

a report that he carried a similar weapon, and that if any irascible elderly party assaulted him, he should, in addition to defending himself to the best of his power, take an action against that elderly party, and print the trial.

"That will be a stumper for any irascible elderly party who does not love you, Seymour " -said Fordbrad.

"It ought to be," returned Seymour; “but elderly parties, when they consider themselves injured, get vicious, and are regardless of consequences."

CHAPTER XVIII.

A BALL.

"The music, and the banquet, and the wine—
The garlands, the rose odours, and the flowers—
The sparkling eyes, and flashing ornaments—
The white arms and the raven hair-the braids
And bracelets; swan-like bosoms, and the necklace,
An India itself, yet dazzling not

The eye like what it circled; the thin robes,

Floating like light clouds 'twixt our gaze and heaven ;
The many twinkling feet so small and sylphlike,
Suggesting the more secret symmetry

Of the fair forms which terminate so well-
All the delusion of the dizzy scene,

Its false and true enchantments-Art and Nature."

cr

BYRON.

"MIND you come to the hop, Seymour, next Thursday," said his companion. "All the mess are invited; but I particularly want you to come and enjoy yourself; for if you do not, old Wilson is safe to go about saying that you are ashamed to show; and it is well to avoid the appearance of evil."

I'll be sure to come; I suppose Susan won't dance with me, however," remarked Seymour.

"If you will take my advice, you'll not ask ; you will only lay yourself open to a snub; indeed, I know, for certain, that she has been desired neither to speak nor to bow to you."

"Poor little girl!" said Seymour, musingly, "I hope she has not been ill-treated by that old vixen of a mother, on my account."

"I don't think the governor would allow that."

"Well, I dare say some of the other charming girls will smile on me, and dance with me too."

"Of course, they will," said Fordbrad, "mind you come."

"All right. Au revoir, old boy. I am going to have a look at the boat I have hired; I gave her a nasty scrape coming through the Needles yesterday. I rather think I shall name her Pussy, pro tem.

"Poor Pussy, she won't say 'Yes,' now," rejoined Fordbrad.

"No, poor thing," answered Seymour.