table when each of those gentlemen comes in to stare at the others. Oh what fun there will be when the Squire finds the Major in before him, or the Major stumbles against Dr. Burke in the hall!" "Go away," I say to her. to her. subject for idle levity: "The sequel of to-day unsolders all of tacks, and a clinking of silver, and the rustling of long strings of ivy-leaves that the children are handing up to be nailed along the walls. The imaginative mind may perceive in these decorations some re"This is no semblance to the rosettes of ribbon that are stuck on pigs and other animals slaughtered for Christmas festivities. To-morrow evening the victims will walk in-one by one, doubtless in solemn silence. They will know that they have been betrayed into the loss of their liberty, and that all protest is useless. The goodliest fellowship of famous knights And why? Because they have been trapped, tricked, betrayed, by a mite, a fourpenny-bit of a woman, a creature who could scarcely weigh down a bag of almonds and raisins in a weighing-machine." "Meaning me," says a third voice, in a mocking way. These women are devoid of sentiment. may come. Yes, madam; you have plotted and conspired to bring ridicule on persons whose gray hairs you should have respected. But a time That billiard-table has not been split up for fire-wood yet; the balls are not hung up as ornaments on your Christmas tree. Would you like the cues for fairywands in the sham pantomime you are getting up?" 'I should," Queen Tita says, coolly. "You sha'n't have them. It may be-I do not know that these weak-minded traitors and renegades may appear to-morrow evening, to incur the humiliation which they richly deserve. But there is one of them, madame, who declines to play the part of Pantaloon-" "Not if I play Columbine?" B says, very meekly; and then, of course, all the fight is over. The hurry and bustle begin again; all through the house there is a hammering And who is to act as chief priest in these cruel rites? At this moment, if you look through the chink of a particular door, you will catch a glimpse of a young woman who is standing on a table and reaching up to the topmost twig of a fir tree something taller than herself. She is attended by but one small boy of ten; the other children are not allowed to enter this secret chamber. On the table at her feet is a wild and confused mass of strange and highly-colored objects— wax candles of red and green, bonbons resplendent in gelatine and gold, sealskin purses and cigar-cases, penknives, books, toys, everything the mind of man, in all its stages, can desire. From time to time she fixes on another candle or hangs another swinging prize on the tree, and as she does so she is humming to herself, "Mädele, ruck, ruck, ruck,' with great contentment, just as if she had had nothing to do with the conspiracy which has tricked and discomfited six honest British householders. V. THE LAST. THERE are evenings, it has been hinted in these pages, when we who live on the silent banks of the Mole become a little tired of the pastoral seclusion of Surrey. A way of getting us out of our coma has, however, been in use for a long time back, and never fails. It is to recall the scene that occurred on a certain Christmas evening, and that marked the collapse and disappearance of our billiard club. The very children-chits of things who ought to be in bed-have been taught to scream with laughter when that wretched old story is repeated, just as if there was no such thing as parental authority in existence. in plenty of time. Then the five wives got seated too, all looking as proud as if they had just won the battle of Waterloo or shaken hands with a bishop. The present writer, by universal consent, was graciously permitted to take the head of his own table, and then we awaited with calm complacency the arrival of the five gentlemen-each of them a villain and a traitor to a noble cause whose seats were vacant. Now, the first to arrive was the Major himself, who ought to have been receiving his guests in his own house, and a more des "Oh, Aunty Bell," the brats cry, "tell us picable, nervous, confused and wretched man about the Major and his merry men." That is what we have come to. We are only merry men in the eyes of our own offspring. And no sooner has the topic been started than every one must contribute his quota of shameful and outrageous exaggeration, while a lady-height, five feet three, eyes dark and apparently innocent, back hair enormous, temper impossible to describe sits very demure and silent, without the least trace of a smile on her face. Indeed, it was a humiliating evening, and yet there was an odd sort of satisfaction underlying our ignoble surrender, borrowed, perhaps, from the hope of better things to come. First of all there was the mustering of the women and children; and such a party had never been seen in the house before, for here were nearly half a dozen families congregated together to eat their Christmas dinner. Queen Tita went flying up and down, here and there, this way and that, like a flash of lightning with a white rose on its foreheadif the simile is permissible-while our gentle B was the overseer of the young folks, who had all to be put in their places never entered a room. For a minute or so he fancied there were only the women and children there whom he had expected to find assembled. "My dear madam," said he to Queen Tita, "this is really a most dreadful thing you have asked me to do. My friends will never forgive me. Dear me, dear me! What a party of young folks we have! Well, to tell you the truth, the pleasure of carving for a number of young people- It was too much for me- I hope your husbandsEh? What! Good gracious me! Is it possible?" -- He was staring at the head of the table. "Oh, Major," said Tita, with a great sweetness, "you see my husband has given up your bachelor dinner just to keep you company, you know. Really, it is most kind of you to have taken pity on us. What should we have done without you?” "Bless me! Indeed- Really Bless me!" said the Major, stumbling into the nearest chair and doubtless wishing that all the women and children would not stare at him so. They, to be sure, were most grave and decorous, but how could they help staring? The door opens. We behold the figure of a tall man, heavily bearded, sun-browned, blue-eyed. In 1866 this young man rode from Berlin to Nikolsburg; in 1870-71 he rode from Berlin to Versailles: perhaps that is why his features are so brown. And yet it seems to us, as he pauses irresolutely there, that we have never seen so deep a color on his face, and the fashion in which he opens his eyes makes them appear to be of a lighter blue than ever. "Are you afraid?" says B-to himan odd question to put to a warrior, even although he is her own husband. The next thing the young man does is to fix his eyes on the confused and abashed Major, and then to burst into a roar of laughter. Oh, you very bad man!" he calls out, and the Major seems to shrink farther and farther into his shoes; "you have left all your guests. Yes? You have betrayed them. Yes? Do you think of the terrible rage the Squire will be in? The billiards-that is nothing; but you ask a gentleman to dine at your house. You go away. He arrives and finds no one"He will find a good dinner," says the Major, sulkily, "and I have left a note of explanation. I could not refuse—” "You could not refuse? Yet you were not married, no you were free. Why did you not refuse?" "And pray," says B to him, with great dignity, "who is there alive who dares to refuse what My Lady demands? I appeal to the children: is there one of you bold enough and rude enough and wicked enough to think of such a thing?" "No, Aunty Bell," was the general cry. "Certainly not! Of course not! Don't let me hear such a thing spoken of again, or there will be some big boys with beards on sent to bed directly." "Please may I sit down?" I sit down?" says the warrior, meekly; and therewith he takes a chair opposite the Major. What wild confusion is this in the hall? Has some lunatic asylum broken loose and come to besiege us? There is a sound of frantic expostulation, of scornful laughter, of stamping of feet, and presently the door is opened, and our three remaining guests appear at once, headed by the Squire, whose face is of a furious color. "Now, now!" he says, in tones of indignant remonstrance. "It is too bad, upon my word, it is really too bad-a trick of this sort. What was the need of it? We didn't want to dine by ourselves-not a bit of it-only you women-folks would have it, you know, and so we let you have your own way. But to break up the arrangement in this mean way- Well, now, it was too bad. And I know who did it; oh yes, I know who did it. And as for the Major there, why, sir, what the-" He recollects himself in time, and stops, but he is sulky, indignant, and on the whole disposed to challenge us men to go off and partake of the Major's dinner. But what is this? By some preconcerted signal all the children stand up, a chord is struck on the piano, which has been dragged out into the hall, and suddenly the whole of them begin to sing-led by the clear and sweet voice of our B, who is at the piano-the familiar strains of "Auld Lang Syne." The recusants look rather dum founded. "Should auld acquaintance be | again, and went up stairs and threw a flower forgot?" is not a very appropriate grace over the window, that fell on the white pavebefore meat; but when the children had ment and was immediately picked up? And ceased their singing, when they had given how some one who had been of opinion that a ringing cheer of welcome at the end of it, the notion of going to Eastbourne at that when the big soup-tureen became visible in time of the year was absolute madness dethe hall, it was remarkable with what ease clared next day that it was the most beauand thankfulness every one sat down to the tiful place in all the world in December? table. There was not a vacant chair. And Do you remember all these things?" when, amidst all the laughing and talking that ensued, the Squire's eldest daughter, pert young miss of thirteen, graciously desired to have the pleasure of drinking a glass of wine with her papa, even he was mollified, and gave himself up thereafter to all the careless gayety of the evening. a Late that night, when all the children had gone to bed, and just as the last of the guests had driven away from the door, two solitary figures pretty well muffled up might have been observed to steal out into the darkness. Yet it was not very dark, for there was a clear sky overhead throbbing with its innumerable points of white fire, and there was a slight crisp coating of snow on the path, on the lawn and on the bushes. The sound of the wheels died away in the distance. There was no breath of wind to stir the laurel-leaves or the branches of the firs. All around nothing but silence and sleep, and overhead the strange abounding life of the stars. Do you remember," says one of these two, a night like this at Eastbourne, a great many years ago, when a girl stole out after all the house was in darkness merely to say one word in reply to a letter she had got? Do you remember how cold the wind was, and how she was told that her face was burning all the same, and how she stole in "Yes, and more," is the reply. "I can remember that I knew at that time a tender-hearted young thing who went about nursing the most beautiful idealismns about wifely obedience and duties, and all she would try to be to her husband in the days to come. That young woman—well, it is a. great many years ago, to be surevowed that she would honor and respect her husband above all men; that the small world of her acquaintance would have cause to wonder over her faith and devotion. But times change. We forget these simple aspirations of our youth. What if found that same tender-hearted thing not ashamed to bring contumely and disgrace upon her husbandto deceive his friends, and make them and him a by-word-all about a paltry billiardtable?” you "Oh, bother your billiard-table!" says this impatient person, forgetting how near she was to the Mole, and how that a mere child could have lifted her up by the waist and dropped her in. And then, suddenly altering her tone and demeanor, which she can do in a second when it suits her purpose, she says, with a great shyness and sweetness: "After all, shall I tell you a secret? You were speaking of young wives. Well, there is nothing they won't do to please their husbands. And now our B has been round to us all pleading so earnestly to let you men have one evening's billiards in the week that we have all consented. And we are all coming to look on-just to prevent gambling and the use of wicked language, you know. And we propose to have it on Saturday evening, so that you won't be tempted to play after twelve." "Indeed! Have you provided hobbyhorses for us, madam? Would it please you to have clean blouses and pinafores sent up to the billiard-room, that we may not chalk our clothes? Shall we be rewarded with a silver threepenny-piece if we sing a hymn prettily? Gadzooks, madam! are we babes and sucklings, to be treated in this manner?" "You needn't swear," says the small person, calmly, "especially on such a night as this. Shall we go up to Mickleham Downs?" An aërolite star fell athwart the sky, and for a moment left a line of light in its wake. Looking at that, and at the wonderful expanse all throbbing with stars, we somehow forgot the fierce fight that had recently raged in our small social circle. We walked on through the white and silent world with that other and living world looking down on it with a million sad and distant eyes; and after the storm there was peace. WILLIAM BLACK. HEROISM AND HUMANITY OF SIR RICHARD HERBERT. FROM "THE LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT." It is said of Sir Richard that he "twice passed through a great army of northern men alone with his pole- or battle-axe in his hand, and returned without any mortal hurt." Another story illustrates the good knight's honorable regard for his promise. He was employed by King Edward IV. to besiege Harlech Castle, in Merionethshire, in Wales. The castle was held by a brave captain who had served for many years in France. It was his boast that he "had kept a castle in France so long that he made the old women. in Wales talk of him, and that he would keep the castle so long that he would make the old women in France talk of him." He made good his word by an obstinate defence. The position of the castle was so strong as to render it almost impossible to overcome its inmates except by starvation. To induce a surrender, Sir Richard promised to urge King Edward IV. to spare the captain's life, which had been forfeited by his rebellion. knight soon after brought his prisoner before the king and represented the circumstances of the surrender. The king replied that he had given no authority to his officer to hold out any hopes of mercy, and that the latter, having used his best exertions to save his foeman's life, had satisfied his pledged word. But Sir Richard would not be tempted from his obligation. "Grant me, I pray," he entreated his sovereign, "one of two things: either place this brave man back in his castle and send some one else to subdue him, or else take my life in place of his whom I have promised to do my utmost The IR RICHARD HERBERT of Cole- to have spared." The king was so im Sbrook was a very in honorable tion that he tle, the chief employment of those days. granted the prisoner's life. |