pense, he resolved to ask his friend, Fitzcribb, to receive him for a day or two.

None much liked the neighbourhood Mr. Lindsay had chosen, but all but Grunter had too much tact and delicacy to make any positive complaint. Yet, when after long sleeplessness, caused partly by noises from without, partly by horrors from within, the dawn saw slumber weigh the weary lids of the pilgrims, all were roused by the sudden uproar and excitement of the arrival of the whole vegetable and many of the animal world in Covent Garden Market. Peace and sleep were then no more; and, after many vain efforts, all rose and proceeded to the breakfast-room. Miss Tibby was silent and mysterious about the night she had passed, and only observed

"London is vastly inferior to Edinbro,' kinsmon, in the comfort of its hotels. My rest has nae been a'thegither what I could wish; for a' that, I mak nae complaint, it is na my custom, and was na in my younger

days. I've met wi' some disturbances which shall be nameless."

Annie was sleepy and silent; the Reverend Gregory but half awake; Mr. Lindsay, all urbane, inquiring about every one; and Ellen alone entirely taken up with him, his health, his rest, quite careless of her own accommodation, resolute in shaking off all indications of her wretched and sleepless night, cheerfully pointing out all that could interest in the varied groups to be seen from the windows, praising the luxuriant cart-loads of fruit, vegetables, and flowers, and trying to conceal the fact that, instead of the fragrant odours that might have been expected, a very strong and odious smell of cabbage-leaves and old stalks found its way into the room, the bad, being, as in all things, so much the stronger and more intrusive of the two powers struggling for admission.

Mr. Lindsay watched with tender interest Ellen's cheerful and endearing endurance of

all these minor trials: they are, after all, the real tests of a generous, a patient, and selfsacrificing nature. We can all rouse ourselves for great disasters: there is a self-applause, which sustains us in an heroic combat with a grand misfortune; but the hero who rushes to battle, who leads a forlorn hope, or braves a death-wound, fearless and collected the while, may be roused to wrath and irritation by the repeated attacks of that light infantry of the air, a swarm of gnats. A monotonous streetorgan, or a ceaseless bagpipe, may drive him half frantic, or the intrusion of a villanous odour upset his equanimity.

Breakfast over, Grunter set out to visit the Fitzcribbs, taking the Reverend Gregory with him, as the latter wished to be directed to some cheap book-stalls. Mr. Lindsay remained within, expecting his son, and beguiling the time with a newspaper; and Annie, Miss Tibby, and Ellen retired to their rooms to prepare for a walk.

Annie had followed Ellen into her chamber, and was arranging her hair before the glass, looking at the same time occasionally from the windows, when suddenly a faint scream escaped her. Ellen, in alarm, looked at her; she saw her colour vary from white to crimson; the comb fell from her nerveless hand, and she shrieked, "There he is!-there he is!" and then, sinking on a chair, burst into tears.

Ellen, surprised and alarmed, looked in the same direction, and beheld Julian! Her own heart stood still, her own colour came and went, and it was some moments before she perceived that by his side was Alphonse de Villeneuve! However, she had no doubt that Annie's emotion arose from the sight of Julian.

Full of her own predilection, and prepossession, it never occurred to her for a moment to suppose that any other could interest when Julian was by. Her own feelings did not

prevent her taking a deep and earnest interest in poor Annie, and, with a woman's rapidity of thought, she in a moment conceived and discarded a suspicion that Julian had wished to excite the interest and win the affection of this young and impressionable creature. No thought of Alphonse occurred to her.

Deeply sympathizing with poor Annie in

her own kind heart, and not having a hope to hold out to her, she wisely and delicately appeared to attribute her emotion to the natural sorrow of seeing Julian under his altered circumstances. Betrayed and discarded by the woman he loved, poor, hopeless, and on foot; he, once the admired, the courted, the wealthy, who was wont, from the gallant steed or elegant equipage, to look so joyously up to Augusta's window; his garb the beau ideal of gaiety and elegance, his eyes, so full of hope and life, his black hair waving, his shining jetty moustachio, contrasting with his red lips and dazzling teeth; his whole person an