ould not have attached much importance to that myself.

ggs's boy, as I have said, came round the corner. was evidently in a great hurry when he first ned upon the vision, but, on catching sight of ris and me, and Montmorency, and the things, ased up and stared. Harris and I frowned at

This might have wounded a more sensistive re, but Biggs's boys are not, as a rule, touchy. came to a dead stop, a yard from our step, and, ing up against the railings, and selecting a w to chew, fixed us with his eye. He evidently nt to see this thing out.

another moment, the grocer's boy passed on the osite side of the street. Biggs's boy hailed him: Hi! ground floor o' 42's a-moving."

he grocer's boy came across, and took up a posion the other side of the step. Then the young leman from the boot-shop stopped, and joined gs's boy; while the empty-can superintendent "The Blue Posts" took up an independent tion on the curb.

They ain't a-going to starve, are they?" said the leman from the boot-shop.

Ah! you'd want to take a thing or two with "retorted "The Blue Post," "if you was ag to cross the Atlantic in a small boat." They ain't a-going to cross the Atlantic," struck Biggs's boy; "they're a-going to find Stanley.” y this time quite a small crowd had collected, people were asking each other what was the ter. One party (the young and giddy portion of crowd) held that it was a wedding, and pointed Harris as the bridegroom; while the elder and e thoughtful among the populace inclined to the

pty cabs pass at the rate of three a minute, and ng about, and get in your way), and packing selves and our belongings into it, and shooting

a couple of Montmorency's friends, who had dently sworn never to forsake him, we drove ay midst the cheers of the crowd, Biggs's boy ing a carrot after us for luck.

We got to Waterloo at eleven, and asked where eleven-five started from. Of course nobody ew; nobody at Waterloo ever does know where a in is going to start from, or where a train en it does start is going to, or anything about it. e porter who took our things thought it would from number two platform, while another porter, h whom he discussed the question, had heard a nor that it would go from number one. The tion-master, on the other hand, was convinced it uld start from the local.

To put an end to the matter, we went up stairs, I asked the traffic superintendent, and he told us t he had just met a man who said he had seen it number three platform. We went to number ee platform, but the authorities there said that y rather thought that train was the Southampton ress, or else the Windsor loop. But they were e it wasn't the Kingston train, though why they e sure it wasn't they couldn't say.

Then our porter said he thought that must be it the high-level platform; said he thought he knew train. So we went to the high-level platform, I saw the engine-driver, and asked him if he was ng to Kingston. He said he couldn't say for tain, of course, but that he rather thought he 3. Anyhow, if he wasn't the 11:05 for Kingston,

ld all know when we got there.

We slipped -a-crown into his hand, and begged him to be 11:05 for Kingston.

Nobody will ever know, on this line," we said, at you are, or when you're going. You know vay, you slip off quietly and go to Kingston." Well, I don't know, gents," replied the noble w; "but I suppose some train's got to go to gston, and I'll do it. Gimme the half-crown." us we got to Kingston by the London and hwestern Railway.

e learnt, afterward, that the train we had e by was really the Exeter mail, and that they spent hours at Waterloo looking for it, and dy knew what had become of it.

ir boat was waiting for us at Kingston just w bridge, and to it we wended our way, and d it we stored our luggage, and into it we ped.

Are you all right, sir?" said the man.

Right it is," we answered; and with Harris at sculls and I at the tiller-lines, and Montmor, unhappy and deeply suspicious, in the prow, we shot on to the waters which, for a fortnight, to be our home.

DOUGLAS WM. JERROLD

DOUGLAS WILLIAM JERROLD, English journalist, wa orn in London, in 1803, died there, in 1857. Hi

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st acquaintance with letters came from settin pe for a newspaper. He was a student of life and anners, and in 1821, his comedy, "More Frightene han Hurt," was one of the successes of the Londo age. He was at once promoted to an editoria osition on his paper. Black-Eyed Susan " was nother of his popular pieces. He wrote much fo Punch," and established "The Illuminated Maga ne." Among his best works are: "Punch's Letters o His Son," "Mrs. Caudle's Curtain Lectures," and Men of Character."

CAUDLE'S WEDDING-DAY

AUDLE, love, do you know what next Sunday is? No? You don't! Well, was there ever ich a strange man! Can't you guess, darling? ext Sunday, dear? Think, love, a minute-just ink. What! and you don't know now? Ha! If hadn't a better memory than you I don't know ow we should ever get on. Well, then, pet, shall tell you, dear, what next Sunday is? Why, then, 's our wedding-day. What are you groaning at, Ir. Caudle? I don't see anything to groan at. If nybody should groan, I'm sure it isn't you. No: rather think it's I who ought to groan!

Oh, dear! That's fourteen years ago. You were very different man then, Mr. Caudle. What do ou say? And I was a very different woman? Not t all; just the same. Oh, you needn't roll your

hat I couldn't talk at all then: I could talk as well then as I can now; only then I hadn't ame cause. It's you have made me talk. What ou say? You're very sorry for it? do nothing but insult me.

me.

Caudle,

.! You were a good-tempered nice creature een years ago, and would have done anything Yes, yes; if a woman would be always for she should never marry. There's quite an of the charm when she goes to church! We're ngels while you're courting us; but once marhow soon you pull our wings off! No, Mr. le, I'm not talking nonsense; but the truth is, ike to hear nobody talk but yourself. Nobody tells me that I talk nonsense but you. Now, o use your turning and turning about in that it's not a bit of- -What do you say? You'll up? No, you won't, Caudle; you'll not serve hat trick again, for I've locked the door and he key. There's no getting hold of you in day; but here you can't leave me. You needn't 1, Mr. Caudle.

w, Caudle, dear, do let us talk comfortably. r all, love, there's a good many folks who, I say, don't get on half so well as we've done. e both our little tempers, perhaps, but you are avating, you must own that, Caudle. Well, r mind; we won't talk of it; I won't scold you

We'll talk of next Sunday, love. We never kept our wedding-day, and I think it would nice day to have our friends. What do you They'd think it hypocrisy? No hypocrisy at I'm sure I try to be comfortable; and if ever in was happy, you ought to be. No, Caudle, no; sn't nonsense to keep wedding-days; it isn't