"Will you come into the garden, Major?" said Mrs. Merton. "I wish you would tell us what is the matter with our melons: we can't get them to grow at all." "What a melancholy fact!" said the Major, putting a nut-leaf into his mouth. He was very fond of chewing nut-leaves. "Will you come into the garden too, Miss Deal?" said Hector. "It's a wretched place; though Tomkins has made the weeds look rather scarcer since he came." 66 Yes, and he is too," said Magenta. "He's the crossest man I ever saw in all my life!" On returning to the hayfield, Where can Mr. Thorn be?" said Mrs. Merton: "I thought he was in the field." Magenta and Solferino looked at each other; the haymakers had made a pike on the top of the hay in which they had buried him. "Mamma," said Solferino, "I believe he's under that pike!" "What in the world do you mean?" said Mrs. Merton. 66 He went to sleep," said Magenta, " and we covered him over with hay, and they have made a pike on the top of him!" "You naughty, tiresome children!" said Mrs. Merton: "what have you done?" 66 "Will he be killed, mamma?" asked Solferino, twisting the buttons off his coat. Hector went to the haymakers to ask if they had seen Mr. Thorn, and if it was possible that he was really buried under the pike. "I've never seen him since you left the field," said one of the men; "and certainly, as I said to Dick, there did seem to be a great lump in it! But he said as how it was only the children as had been playing with it; so we didn't look." "The pike must come down directly," said Hector; though I can't think it possible that he is there." 66 The men began to throw aside the hay; Magenta and Solferino, with very white faces, standing at a little distance, holding each other's hands. Major Deal was telling Mrs. Merton that, if Mr. Thorn was under the hay, he would most certainly be smothered! And Hector was helping to knock the pike to pieces. "They've nearly got to the bottom," said the Major to Mrs. Merton: "you'd better shut your eyes: it might be too much for you! Shall I go and fetch your smelling-bottle?" "There is a strange lump!" said one of the men. "I scarce like to go on, sir !" "Did you ever see a man the shape of a rolled pudding?" said Hector, taking up the lump in his arms, and shaking it. It was nothing but hay, that had been twisted round and round until it had become quite hard. "O dear! what a relief!" said Mrs. Merton, opening her eyes. "It is indeed a great thing to be thankful for," said the Major, who had seen Mr. Thorn in the summer-house with Miss Magnus as they came out of the garden, and therefore knew all about it. "Then, I wonder where he is," said Mrs. Merton. "Perhaps eating strawberries," said Magenta and Solferino, running off in search of him, and soon dragging Mr. Thorn out of the summerhouse. "Now we really must go," said the major; and my daughter will come to you about six o'clock on Wednesday. Good morning." Towards night a sea-fog came on, and it became very gloomy. Mr. Merton was detained much longer than he expected, and it was nearly nine o'clock before he left Merrydale. It would be high water at eleven. I shall have plenty of time to get home in an hour," thought Mr. Merton; for he was a very good walker. So he set off at a pretty good pace, and had nearly got half way home when he met Deborah Broom. "It's a very dark night, sir,” said Deborah; "but I'm glad I've met you, as I want to talk to you." "Well," said Mr. Merton, "be quick, then; for I'm late as it is." "Do you remember Mr. Samuel Pickles's two sons being shipwrecked, about twenty years since, and people said one of them was drowned ?" 66 "I remember something about it, what then?" "It was the youngest that was saved, wasn't it?" "No, the eldest; because I was at school with him; and he is at my house at present, I believe." Yes," said Deborah, "and the youngest is alive, too: unless he's dead." "Why do you detain me with such stuff as that?" said Mr. Merton. "Good night." "I might have known there was no good talking to him," thought Deborah; "but I will speak to this Pickles, or Thorn, myself." It had grown much darker; and Mr. Merton had just come to the worst part of his walk. Until now he had been walking on the sands; but immediately after parting with Deborah Broom, he was obliged to walk over rough slippery stones. He had intended going round by the edge of these, where there was a strip of sand; but the tide had increased so rapidly that many even of the stones were under water. Mr. Merton walked as fast as he could; but it was becoming so dark that sometimes he could scarcely distinguish the stones from the pools; and more than once found himself half way up to his knees in salt-water. If it had not been, for the good stout stick which he had brought with him, he would scarcely have been able to get on at all. Fortunately the sea was very calm, but the tide was now rapidly coming in; yet he dare not go any nearer to the cliff, for large loose stones were continually rolling down from the top. The wind now suddenly rose, blowing in his face. The first gust took him so completely by surprise, that he nearly lost his balance and slipped from the stone on which he was standing. The next moment his hat was blown away, and, in stretching out his hands to catch it, he stepped upon some slippery seaweed, and fell. With a good deal of difficulty he got upon his feet again. He had still a large projecting rock to pass, and then his way was easy. But he began to despair of being able to pass it. He looked at the cliff; but it was impossible to reach the top without a ladder-and, even then, it was dangerous. The rock was now more than three feet deep in the sea, as he judged. He looked towards the sea, if by chance there might be a boat; but there was none; and, even if there had been, he could neither have been heard nor seen. "Well, I must try to climb the cliff," thought he. But no sooner had he reached the base, than a large stone rolled from the top, and, hitting him on the shoulder, knocked him down. a loud Just at this moment there was "Halloo!" which seemed to come from the top of the cliff, which he had been endeavouring to climb. "Halloo!" shouted Mr. Merton. "Help me, I'm fast in the rocks." The next moment a rope-ladder was carefully lowered over the cliff. "Quick, or I shall be drowned," groaned Mr. Merton. "Is it you, Hector ?" "Yes," replied Hector, who was now slowly descending the ladder, while Parsley held a lantern at the top. "Where are you, Richard?" said Hector, as he got to the bottom. "There, take hold of my hand, for it is very slippery. Have you got hold of the rope? Mind the loose stones." Hector held the rope firmly at the bottom; while Mr. Merton slowly ascended the ladder. The waves were now washing against the rock. "Don't go too fast," said Hector: "there's plenty of time." began to ascend, and at last, with great difficulty, reached the edge of the cliff. Parsley and Mr. Merton dragged him over it. * In the meantime Mrs. Merton, Miss Magnus, and Mr. Thorn were in the drawing-room. It was growing very dark. Miss Magnus sat on the sofa, her hair ornamented with bits of hay; for they had been in the hayfield again after dinner. Mrs. Merton was near the window, looking out, though it was too dark to see anything. Mr. Thorn was sitting by the table, turning over a book of pictures, and thinking "Beauty and the beast" was a large rock, with a cow underneath. The clock struck ten. 66 He ought to bave been here an hour ago," exclaimed Mrs. Merton, starting up; "I really must go and look for him." My dear, you must not think of such a thing," said Miss Magnus. "Hector could not possibly have brought him back by this time." "Shall I go?" said Mr. Thorn, hoping that she would say no. "Thank you," said Mrs. Merton, "I should be obliged if you would." Mrs. Merton and her sister sat still for another quarter of an-hour, without speaking, when some one tapped at the window; and Mr. Thorn's voice was heard, saying, "I can't find my way out of the garden." "I'll get the lantern," said Miss Magnus, jumping up. There was a small lantern hanging in the hall; she reached it down, lighted it, and, putting her hat on wrong way first, ran out into the garden. "Mr. Thorn," said she, "where are you?" "I'm here," replied he. "I'm very sorry to give you so much trouble, but really, I could not find my way out of the garden." "Oh, it's no trouble: that's the gate. You'll come back with them." "Richard is so careless about the tides," said Mrs. Merton, nervously, as Miss Magnus came back, "and he said he would be sure to be back by nine." They waited nearly another half-hour, when Mrs. Merton exclaimed, "They're coming! I heard the gate," and rushed out into the garden. Miss Magnus followed her. When the gentlemen had related their adventure, "We were only just in time," said Hec Mr. Merton got to the top; and now Hectortor. a discovery is made by which a favoured guest can be detained a week longer. She herself generally visits all the apartments before the arrival of a new series, to see that all is arranged for the comfort of her visitors. The morning of the departure the company dress for their journey as soon as breakfast is over, and then assemble in the drawing-room where their Majesties are to receive their adieus-adieus that take a long time, all lingering until the last moment. The bravest of the lot at last makes a stir, and place is made for the series that another train is already bringing. Philippe would have done. During that short visit to Paris he called on the Prince Napoleon, and on being told by the concièrge that the Prince was out, he said, "Then tell him, when he returns, that the King of Belgium, passing through Paris, has called on him." The gilded lackeys could scarce believe their ears-a king without a carriage and attendants! His death put a stop to the fetes at Compiègne, and also deprived their Majesties of the company of the King and Queen of Portugal at their autumnal residence, where the season was more than usually brilliant, and has been the theme of Parisian gossip. The Prince and Princess The second series of visitors this season carof Hohenzollern were the chief guests this year; ried off unheard-of laurels in the "Revue" and the other visitors were in raptures with the (burlesque on all that has happened during the fair young Princess, who followed the chase on year), composed by one of them, and performed horseback several times, as well as three or by themselves before their august host and four other ladies. At the last stag-hunt there hostess. It is called "Les commentaires de was great excitement; the animal rushed into a César," composed by the Marquis de Massa, farm-yard, followed by the dogs and hunters, and sparkling with wit and delicate compliments just as a herd of cows were quietly returning to Napoleon III. The young Prince played a home. Fancy the pell-mell! The stag, find- part in it, and the Princess de Metternich, as a ing no outlet, turned back; the dogs also. The "cantinière" (song) and a coachman, has not cows rushed about, bellowing in all directions. only filled Compiègne with her reputation of a Carriages, dogs, cows, and horsemen got so in- first-rate actress, but Paris also. The Emperor termingled, that it was the greatest chance there and Empress were kept in one continual laugh was not an accident. However, order was re- all the evening, and frequently gave the signal to stored, and the cows reassembled by the in-applaud, particularly when the young Ambasspector of the forest, to the great delight of the farmer's wife, who declared that monsieur l'inspecteur had more than saved her life in saving the lives of her cows. At a shooting-party, Lord Dudley seeing that the public were not allowed to approach the place where the game lay on the ground, but were kept back by the police, begged the inspector to let them come. "They will not touch it, I am sure," said his lordship. "Oh yes, they will," answered the inspector. "I know from experience that, if they are not kept at a distance, several pieces will be gone when we call them over to-night." "Well, monsieurl'inspecteur," said the Earl, "do allow that man in a grey hat, who seems so eager to get a glance, to approach." And his lordship stepped up to a brave citizen of Compiègne, foremost in the rank of the spectators, and, taking him by the hand, led him, quite bewildered by the honour, into the forbidden circle. There are three series of guests invited to Compiègne. A special train, paid by the Emperor, conveys them there and back, and nothing can be more curious than to be at the station the day a series leaves Paris. The servants arrive first, with the luggage, and salute each other with the name of their respective masters; an hour after, carriage after carriage arrives-now a grand turn-out, now a modest cab, with the masters and mistresses themselves, who take their places in six saloon carriages, and the servants in ordinary first-class carriages. The day a series leaves, the château is dull, her Majesty always wishing to keep all her guests, so that the plan of the house is examined and re-examined, to see if another room cannot be found; and the Empress is radiant with joy if sadress of Austria was en scène. She was truly Et sur son dos m'écrier à tue-tête : The Emperor laughed to tears at this last trait. soon to appear, or choosing in les Mémoires de | hear a word. The men, as usual, are separated Napoleon I. the part he intends to have published for the coming Exhibition in 1867. The wedding of the Princess Anna Murat has been the great talk of the day in the Paris fashion. The jewels offered to her by the young bridegroom are very magnificent, and cost a million and a-half francs. One diamond, placed over the ducal crown, they say belonged to SaïdPacha, and cost alone 500,000 francs. Then there is a set in diamonds and emeralds, another in pearls and diamonds, and another turquoises and diamonds; a black pearl necklace, a coral necklace, &c., &c., &c., enough to cause many a young heart to ache with envy. In the "corbeille" they say was a very curious oldfashioned beautifully sculptured box, containing, with a proof of their authenticity, the "langes" -the swaddling clothes of Henry IV.-rather a curious present to a young bride, methinks! The civil marriage was performed at Prince Lucien Murat's house. The court carriages were sent to convey the party to the Tuileries, a carriage drawn by six horses for the bride. There the Archbishop of Paris blessed the union in the chapel, before the Emperor and Empress. A grand breakfast followed at the Palace, immediately after which the Duke and Duchess de Mouchy started for the Castle de Mouchy, near Mony. The Conseil Municipal had voted a sufficient sum to receive the young couple with éclat as they passed through the town. A part of the honeymoon is to be passed there, but they are expected back to Paris for the "Jour de l'An" (New-year's-day). The Princess's cousin, Prince Napoleon, did not assist at the ceremony, for at the same hour on Monday his imperial Highness followed to the grave an ex-minister of the Republic, Monsieur Bixio—a man greatly respected here. In 1848, although he had received several balls at the barricadoes, he still remained at his post. He was the founder of "La Maison Rustique," and of the "Journal d'Agriculture Pratique," and the papers are full of his good qualities. Another death, from small-pox, has deprived us of our humorous editor of the "Charivari," Louis Huart, the "bete noire" of the charitable Louis Veuillot; while, almost worse than death, loss of reason has removed to Dr. Blanche's asylum for the insane, the chief-surgeon to the Emperor, Dr. Jobert de Lambelle. His madness came on from grief at being absent from Paris when the Empress telegraphed for him after the accident in Switzerland. Dr. Nélaton went for him, and Dr. Jobert lost his senses through jealousy. His madness is incurable, and it is supposed that Nélaton will be named in his place, he having been included in the invitations to Compiègne. from the women, and are accorded the best places nearest the pulpit; it is almost impossible for a lady to hear, in the places destined for them. The newly-converted wife of the Minister of Public Instruction, Madame Duruy, is very assiduous. I imagine that the good Father deems women angels, and so less in need of his exhortations; though why reserved places are kept for the numberless priests that nightly surround him I cannot tell, while so many men cannot approach; surely the unconverted are more in need of his eloquence than the converted! and why those serjeants de ville? it seems so odd to have the police to keep order in a church. He preaches on "independent moral," a new moral, I believe, or so it appears to me, never having heard it named until lately; but then I am very ignorant on the numerous morals now in vogue. By-the-bye, it seems that the actresses in the new piece at the Châtelet "La Lanterne Magique" have been rather too independent in the morality of their costume; so much so, that our guardian of public morality, the Préfet of the Police, has just sent orders to the directors of the theatres in general, and to that of the Châtelet in particular, to lengthen his actresses' dresses and to thicken their transparency. Imagine what it must have been, to have given umbrage to a Parisian public! Le père Hyacinthe is preaching the Advent at Notre Dame, with brilliant success-as success is now the word for church as well as theatre. The eloquent Father looks extremely well in his large white flannel garment, which he wraps round him with becoming effect; four thousand persons nightly flock to listen to him, though certainly more than half that number cannot Another police order forbids a master of a café to allow a solitary female to sit down outside a café for refreshments. A fair customer being too often a kind of cobweb spread out by the cunning vendor to attract passing flies. I should think that the late trial of Mdlle. Bertier, alias Madame Court, is the cause of this sudden fit of severity on the part of Monsieur le Préfet de la Police. He has a son of about the same age of the young Debrousse, the amorous minor, who has spent 200,000 francs (£8,000), for which he is in debt, on this public "lorette," in the two years that he has left college, where, after ten years' assiduity, he has not been able to learn to spell, as letters read at the trial proved. The lady is condemned to six months' imprisonment, to the great anguish of her boylover, who shed tears on hearing the sentence. Of course the woman has appealed to a higher court, but in all probability the sentence will be confirmed. Her husband, who has not lived with her for years, has also petitioned for a separation, though that she regards with the greatest indifference: her only fear is that her beauty will be impaired by being obliged to have her hair cut off. Another trial has called to Geneva one of our cleverest barristers, to plead a nullity of marriage against a false Baron de Lancy, who, under pretence of being rich and noble, obtained the hand of a noble young lady, Mdlle. Blanche Fleury de Malescane. The baron turns out to be a peasant of Lancy, employed in a circus in Paris, and, for the moment, lodged at the expense of the Government for not knowing what was his own. A very short time after his marriage he treated his young wife as he had been used to treat his horses, and forced her to receive his mistresses at her house. It seems that there are many implicated in the affair for having given false references to the young lady's family before the union. good; for it is nothing but great sensuality. Apropos of this piece, there has been a deal said about what we call the claque: that is, men or boys employed by the administration to applaud. They have several picturesque names: "les roApropos of marriage, the public-that in- mans," "les chevaliers du lustre," because they defatigable match-maker- has again married are always seated in the pit, under the lustre. Monsieur Emile Ollivier. Last year he was They have a chief, and he alone is remunerated; to have espoused Mdlle. Meyerbeer; this his soldiers receive a certain number of tickets, year it is Mdlle. Bouvet, the charming which they sell for their own profit. Public "lectrice" to the Empress; but the papers have opinion has tried to put them down, and M. again denied the news. What is the meaning | Montjanze, of the Théâtre-Lyrique, dismissed of these frequent reports? M. Ollivier saw the them his service. They revenged themselves by young lady when he presented to the Empress causing such a tumult in the house for a whole his " rapport" on the young prisoners de la year, that he was obliged to negotiate peace Roquette, this autumn, and found that she very with them. "You require our services again," much resembled his " poor dear wife." That said the captain, malignantly; "very well. But looks very suspicious; though, after all, the we are dearer now. You must pay us the lost young lady may not have been as sensible to year, and double what you paid us before." the charms of M. Ollivier. On dit that M. O.'s The director was obliged to submit. father-in-law, l'Abbé Listz, is soon coming to Paris, with a mass just composed by him for St. Eustache, where it will be chanted for the benefit of the poor. Verdi has been in Paris some time. They say that his presence here is not only for the repetitions of his "Horza del Destino," but he has also been asked to compose an opera for the opening of the New Opera House, and he desires to have for subject the drama "Marion Delorme." He was seen the other night at the Bouffes-Parisiens, clapping with all his might new operette of Offenbach, "Les Ber the gers." The new comedy, "Henriette Maréchal," by the brothers De Goncourt, has at last been taken off the affiche at the Théâtre Françaisthe famous "Pipe-en-bois" has triumphed. Do you know who Pipe-en-bois is? He is a kind of mysterious person now in vogue-some say a student, whose occupation it is to smoke a long pipe in wood, and to hiss at the theatre when a piece or its authors do not please him; others say that it is a phantom invoked by those who assert that the "row" made on the first representation of "Henriette Maréchal" was a cabal to put down the comedy, because the Princess Mathilde had taken it under her protection. Let that be as it may, the comedy has fallen, after exciting all Paris either for or against. The hissers certainly went on purpose to hiss; for it was impossible for the impartial public to hear a word at any of the representations. Molière's house never before saw such a scene as has been exhibited there for a fortnight. The critics are far from agreeing on its merits. There is a scene of a bal de l'Opera that very much disgusts the purs as defiling the stage where Racine and Molière reign. For my part, I think the piece a disgusting thing altogether. heroine of forty years of age (a married woman, of course), with a daughter that is sixteen, to fall in love with a boy of nineteen, and-you may guess the rest. Is it possible for so monstrous a passion to excite sympathy? I say that a shower-bath would do them both A There is a great commotion amongst the lawstudents. Seven of their comrades have been expelled the Law-school, for having gone to the Congress at Liege, where, it seems, they made very violent speeches, declaring that no less than three hundred thousand heads in Paris must fall before liberty could reign. Instead of laughing at the hallucinations of a set of boys, the minister-to please Madame Benoiton (the name of a personage in la famille Benoiton, but by which the students designate the Empress)— has rendered a decree that has exasperated the whole school-those even who disapprove the Congress they say it is not legal, and there was a regular uproar at the first lesson after the decree. The police were called in, and more than twenty arrests took place. As we are in the Latin quarter, just notice the decree that is to deprive that part of Paris of its most beautiful ornament-the Garden du Luxembourg, and the Senate-house. Monsieur de Girardin and Monsieur Plot are at the head of a company to buy it of the Minister of Finance, who is sadly in want of money; and our lovely trees are to be cut down, for houses to be built in their places. The coffers must be very empty for such Vandalism to have been imagined! There is not a public garden, or walk, in Paris that equals it. There is an avenue of trees not to be surpassed anywhere, and all is to be destroyed. It is like cutting up Regent's Park, in London. The press, with the exception of M. de Girardin's paper, protests, and the indignation is general, while lawyers declare that the measure is unconstitutional. We shall hear what the chambres say at the meeting of representatives. A quatrain is circulating on the question, that is rather witty: "Quoique très habile en finance, Fould, si tu veux ne pas faire four, Mdlle. Stella Colas, the young actress and coquette, for whom the young and brilliant |