as she strenuously, though (must it be recorded of the utter unbelief of our natures?) hopelessly affirmed, but caught in her youth (was she ever young? thought I) from the bleak air off the Surrey hills. Her youth-alas! that period of vernal bloom-those soft and gentle times had outgrown the recollection of all but herself. She was a dreadful gossip, and had earned a no very enviable celebrity by her talebearing, tale-telling propensities. We soon stated our errand. She smiled gra "From Lucy Herbert?" repeated I; " and how on earth could she hear such a thing?-for|ciously, and a little pensively-for she prided hershe is too gentle, too truthful, to speak of a report so cruelly untrue as this is, without some foundation for her to mention it!" "The fact is," returned the doctor, I believe that Miss Patience, the governess to her younger sister, heard it from Miss Wormwood, whom I think you know." "Ugh-know? the odious old maid-with her red, bleary eyes, her large, ruby-coloured nose, over which the glowing hues of a red autumn sunset glow with fearful intensity, and her thin, scandal-loving, treble voice-know her?" I had been called in to attend her professionally a week or two previously, for what she was pleased to term "a palpitation of the heart and a depression of spirits;" but which was in fact the languid debility caused by confirmed dropsy-certainly not by a depression of spirits, for the sal volatile which she constantly applied for the purposes of fumigation, was scarcely able to prevent the betrayal of the presence of spirits, albeit they were not those which are the material effervescence of our being. I looked at my watch-it was just twelve o'clock. "A thousand furies!" thought I, "there is no chance now of my being married to-day." I snatched up my hat. Will you join me," I said to Frederick Carrington, "in endeavouring to sift this extraordinary affair!" 66 Willingly, Churchill!" he frankly replied. We shook hands cordially; and I felt there was at least a more than partial, if not a complete belief, on his part, that the accusation was groundless. Miss Wormwood lived at the opposite end of the town. We jumped into a cab, and had ample leisure to discuss our mode of attack as we proceeded thither. A knock at the door brought up a half-dirty servant, with a puffyred face, and large sleepy eyes, and who seemed freshly-redolent of the savoury odour of the kitchen. Miss Wormwood was a spinster, in easy, independent circumstances; and it is an extraordinary fact, that this class of spinsters always settles itself in a lodging-house in some ambiguous locality, where the footsteps of friends are seldom or never deluded into making morning calls, and, par consequence, discovering a lack of entertainment equal perhaps to the cupboard of worthy Mistress Hubbard, as chronicled in our Ancient Rhymes. Miss Wormwood was verging somewhere upon sixty; her nose, as I have said before, "jewelled in eight holes" at its summit-not from any bibular propensities, self on her "sweetness of expression" -and replied she had heard it from her "dear friend,” Mrs. Pryington, of Connaught Place. We neither of us had ever heard of such a person. May we inquire what number in Connaught Place? "Eh! what number?-let me see-I almost forget the number of my dear friend's housenumber-number?-90? No-I don't think that's it-I'm sure there's a 9 in it; but I can't positively say whether it is'nt No. 50." Chagrined, perplexed, and disappointed-I chafing inwardly, and silently anathemizing all old maids who prefer any one's affairs to their own-we took leave as courteously as we could of Miss Wormwood, (what an apt symbol of her nature her name is! thought I,) and bade the driver retrace our way, and proceed to Connaught Place. Mrs. Pryington was at home. She was married, but had no children; was tall and thin, like her spinster friend; smiled mincingly, but not quite so evanescently; and had a nose the very counterpart of Miss Wormwood's-positively she, too, must have been brought up amid the same bleak atmosphere. Frederick entered upon the purpose of our visit. 66 You have heard, I believe, that my sister, Miss Carrington, was to have been married to Mr. Drayton- in fact, that they were to have been married this morning!" "Ye-e-s!" replied Mrs. Pryington, colouring a little apprehensively, not knowing what was coming next. They were not married this morning, madam- -a totally unlooked-for occurrence prevented it!" "How extraordinary!" I "Yes, madam!" I returned, rather pointedly and bitterly; " and it is upon this subject I have taken the liberty of calling on you. am the Mr. Drayton to whom Miss Carrington was to have been united-pray can you tell me if this is a compulsory union, and whether the hand of Miss Carrington is in payment of a debt of honour won at the gaming-table—or, I burn while I say it, a prize in a lottery!" "Really, sir," replied Mrs. Pryington, growing very pale at my vehemence, "I am incapable of answering you!" "I certainly told her that it was reported that you had won Miss Carrington at a game of chance!" fact, that a servant of the noble defendant's actually, sir, got over a gate which enclosed the pound' of the town of Grubhole, in order to regain his hat, sir, which the wind had blown over. Now, sir, at the time that he thus got over into the pound, it held a donkey—” "If you had been there it would have been occupied by two," I mentally thought. "But, however, sir, the donkey has nothing to do with the case." "There you make “Has'nt he,” thought I. a slight mistake, my friend!" "And the parish, sir, therefore, contend that he committed an act of trespass; while the earl-but what do you think, sir?" I began to be amused at the fellow's ignorant pertinacity, and therefore assumed a look of lucid importance in every way equal to his own. Really, madam?" I exclaimed, more and" Why, it is a very nice question," I replied, more puzzled and annoyed; "and pray from whom did this report emanate ?" 66 Why, to speak the truth, the servant next door told my servant-yes-that is, she told her-that she had heard her master tell her mistress-" 66 humouring the man; "but I certainly think that the parish have lost their right of action, by default of summary ejectment at the time; UNLESS, INDEED, THE DONKEY, ON THE PART OF THE PARISH, ENDEAVOURED TO EJECT HIM BUT THAT MUST BE PROVED BEYOND Who occupies that house?" I interrupted, A DOUBT!" sternly. "Mr. and Mrs. Watchful!" "Thank you. Good morning, madam!" We disappeared with all the rapidity of which our evolution was capable. 66 Very true, sir! very true! I quite agree with you, sir!" he replied, gravely and solemnly; "it is, indeed, a very nice case, and involves some considerably difficult points of law." "Well, but Mr. Watchful," I said, referring to the object of my visit, "this gentleman from the country whom you mentioned." 'Yes, sir, I remember-when I happened to be in the room, I happened to overhear the strange gentleman say, sir, not that you were to be married to Miss Carrington, but that you had won her as a prize in a lottery!" "In a lottery!" I re-echoed, hardly able to control myself with passion-" what atrocious calumny is this?" 66 Yes, sir, just so, sir; and that was all, sir," replied Mr. Watchful obsequiously. I looked with intolerable disgust at the cringing, snuffling tale-bearer; and without taking the slightest notice of his innumerable bows, we took our departure. The afternoon was now drawing to a closewe knocked at Number -. Mr. Watchful was not at home; but Mrs. Watchful was to be seen, the servant informed us. We were ushered into the parlour, which savoured rather powerfully of the stale odour of the Nicotian weed. Mrs. Watchful was bustling and polite. The cloth was laid for dinner, and Mr. Watchful, so his wife enlightened us, was expected home every instant. (He was chief clerk to an eminent barrister, we learned-with grey hair, and an income of some thousand or so a-year, derivable solely from his fees.) In a short time he made his appearance, and in a fussy, talkative manner replied to my query. "Oh ! yes, sir! yes! I perfectly recollect it, perfectly, it was only yesterday-was it yesterday, my love?-yes, sir! as I said before - but was it yesterday, though, my love?-eh ?-ittery?" I exclaimed. was yesterday-last night, sir-late last night, sir, a gent (that odious word) a gent from the country, sir, called upon my eminent employer, Mr. Sergeant Longspeech-the fact was, sir, he was at chambers till very late, or rather very early-ha! ha!-engaged deeply in a highly important case-The Parish of Grubhole versus The Earl of Rentroll'—a very heavy case, sir, arising out of a very delicate question of trespass; a case, sir, that will be of enormous importance to the law of trespass; a case, sir, involving tremendously important considerations. What do you think, sir?" "Oh! never mind that," I interrupted, tired to death of his pompous garrulity. "Nay, sir! but what do you think? This exceedingly important case turns, sir, upon the "What could the wretch mean by his lot This "Heaven only knows," replied Frederick; "the more we sift this extraordinary business, the more mysterious aspect it assumes. is certainly a rather different version from the original!" "Rather," echoed I, laconically. The words of the Danish king, beset all at once by his sorrows and the effects of guilt "When sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions !" seemed to apply with startling force to my own present sufferings. "But allons!" cried I, endeavouring to throw off my depression, for I was fagged to death by anxiety, "allons Frederick-toujours gai! never "Ah ha! Master FrederickI see your drift-that you may afterwards pay your devoirs to the charming Miss Lucy Herbert!" "Nay! nay!" he replied, but colouring very much as he said it-" Miss Herbert, indeed!" "Soho! Fred!-sets the wind in that quarter-" I continued, affecting a gaiety of spirits which my harassed looks strangely belied "but à la bonne heure!-we will at once to Longspeech's, who will explain the matter, and then you can fly to a tête-a-tête with your inamorata !" Frederick brightened up in a moment. "Pooh! pooh! Churchill!" he exclaimed, not much relishing my bantering tone, "it is not that-but I'll go with you-come, let us be off at once!" Take it coolly!" I replied, smiling at his newly-acquired vivacity; "take it coolly-the weather's rather warm, and we have plenty of time on our hands, you know." "Oh!" sighed poor Fred. We soon found our way to the dingy chambers of that learned barrister, Mr. Sergeant Longspeech, situated in that dreary, hobgoblinlooking place, The Temple. THE TEMPLE! where the dark, lowering houses seem to tell the wayfarer, with a silent though responsive language, of the stronghold and mint of legal lore hidden within their motionless and gloomy pile of red brick. THE TEMPLE! which in the gloom of evening looks like the calm Philosopher in his profound reverie of meditation! THE TEMPLE! which at night looms like the mighty thoughts which gather around the brow of the Sage when his dream of the Inner World is upon him; but never wearing the glad smile of the Poet! THE TEMPLE! with its faint glimmering lights shed from the windows of rooms so high from the ground, that they make the darkness still more perceptible-still more deep and solemn ! THE TEMPLE! with the heavy fog-hung river, whose sluggish ripple is scarcely heard as its pitchy, sullen tide rolls by! THE TEMPLE! which, as midnight wears on, and the flickering lights gradually and fitfully disappear, grows so quiet, so still, so hushed, that when the chime marks the hours as they speed fleetly on, and its echo wanders in slow reverberations o'er the darksome expanse of the river, till the strokes of time die away, and sink entombed beneath its waters-all, everything around seems buried in the death-hush of the Eternal Silence ! THE TEMPLE! where the sun sometimes darts a watery, straggling beam but for a moment, only to withdraw it again, as if abashed with the thought of interrupting the studies and labours of its inmates-where, amid the solitary trees, which can but rarely boast the green and luxuriant verdure, which rosy, jocund Summer in chattering conclave, in forcible contrast to plants on all; the noisy sparrows assemble the silent, utter dreaminess below-where the morning grey grows seldom into the bright tint of day-so melancholy, so shut out from the fairest of Nature's hues is that regionwhere the shadows of eve creep onwards unawares, till at last all becomes again enshrined in the sombre mantle of night; and thus morning and day, and evening and night, fill their allotted hours, mutely and successively-perhaps by some unwatched, unnoticed--the years fly apace-new generations arise, and the world grows hourly older; till at last the noiseless career of Old Time shall be stopped, and his fluttering wing cast a shadow on objects no longer. We found the sergeant engaged in perusing an enormous brief by the glare of a large lamp. He was a man a little past the prime of life, of about the middling height, possessing features remarkably plain-somewhat marked with the small-pox indeed, but stamped with the sign of Intellect, and constantly betraying by its expression (that which gives to the least graceful lineaments an interest-the want of which deprives the most perfectly moulded beauty of all its power, all its charm) the soul of Mind within. Somewhat stern, to outward appearance, towards strangers, of his friends and acquaintances he was the delight: his fund of anecdote enchained their attention-the flashes of his wit enchanted them--and the goodness of heart which he displayed on every trifling occasion, won him the admiration, the esteem, the love of all who knew him. Reader, I draw from life he whom I have attempted to describe has shone out among his brethren by his forensic abilities-has delighted thousands by the classical beauty of his dramatic fictions--and has ever been among the foremost to raise the standard of Art, and unfurl the banner of Progress. We both knew him well, and explained to him what his clerk had told us. He burst out into a quiet laugh. "Poor Watchful," said he;" just like him-his ears and his tongue are constantly bringing him into trouble. Why, who do you think was here last night?-who now?" 66 "On my honour, I cannot guess!" replied I. Why your friend Alfred Wharton!" "What! Alfred Wharton, from Leicestershire?" "Aye! did you not write to him?” "Yes to be sure, I wrote to him, inviting him to my wedding!" "Exactly," laughed the sergeant. "Well, he came up for that purpose; but your letter did not reveal your present address. It was this very letter that he read to me- -do you remember what you said to him?" "No, not in the least!" I returned; "how should I, when at the time I wrote it-stay!" I continued, a new light suddenly breaking in upon me"No!" I added despairingly, after thinking for some few moments, "I cannot recollect what I said-it is impossible-nor shall I remember what I am now saying or doing, if this tormenting state of mind continues much longer!" "I should think not!" rather drily remarked the limb of the law;'" but," he added, (I afterwards discovered only to torment me still farther-for his learned sergeantship was mightily fond of a practical as well as a forensic joke,) "there was something about winning your fiancée in a lottery!" "Confusion worse confounded!" muttered I, growing more and more perplexed every moment-" do you know to what hotel he has gone?" "Can't tell ye!" pettishly rejoined my legal friend, enjoying my vexation. "Well, good night, Frederick !" I continued, "I will release you." He shook my hand eagerly, and was off like a shot. 66 So much for friendship!" growled I, in the Diogenes or Timon vein-" he's glad to get rid of me." "And well he may be," interposed the man of law 'Thou art not good for much, just now,' quoth he; 'And least of all, thou art not so to me!' ha ha ha!-and so would you be, if the like opportunity was awaiting you to join a sweet expectant and confiding young lady-eh, Sir Dolorous ?" "Oh!" I groaned, with a miserable piteousness, "this is the happiest day of my life, is'nt it-say rather the most wretched, vile, a-a-" "Ahem! silence in the court!" interrupted the Sergeant jocularly. "I could not stand this, so took a hasty adieu; and with a despondency that was quite insupportable, hailed the first cab, and hurried homewards. It did not relieve my despondency to hear that Alfred Wharton had called and left his card in the morning, and had called again in the evening, very much surprised at the news he had heard. Distressed both in body and mind, I sought my pillow, on which I had thought to rerepose that night in all the golden slumbers and blissful dreams of happy love! I soon fell asleep; but I have some vague, indistinct recollection of summing up, with no very patient or praiseworthy resignation, the extraordinary and untoward events of the day. The next morning rose as bright and beautiful as did that of the past, when my sleep was broken by the voice of my friend Alfred Wharton arousing me. After the first hearty greetings were over, we compared notes, and as they were perfectly satisfactory, I dressed myself with extreme care; and after we had despatched the matutinal meal, we forthwith departed for town. I found Julia and the doctor's family assembled. Their welcome was warm, because they were prepared from Frederick's relation for the dénouement of this sorrowful farce. "Alfred!" I cried, "will you be good enough to read the letter which, through the intermeddling and exaggerated tittle-tattle of some busy-bodies, has been the cause of this temporary separation." He did so it was as follows: "DEAR ALFRED,-Come up on the wings of all haste to my long-talked-of wedding. It will take place on Thursday, the eleventh. You have only to see Julia Carrington--to hear her speak-to witness her sweet smile, to be sure that I have indeed gained a rare prize in the LOTTERY of HUMAN LIFE! "Yours, affectionately, "CHURCHILL DRAYTON." "Alfred Wharton, Esq." "There!" I exclaimed, "there is the horrid mystery-there is the letter which has caused all this." I flew to Julia, and the next minute felt her dear heart beating against mine once more; and the joy of that moment compensated me for all the anxieties and vexation I had the day previously endured. Frederick Carrington will soon lead to the altar the fair Lucy Herbert; and, as I am to be married to-morrow, let me hope, with every reasonable expectation of my hope being verified, that that day will be-THE HAPPIEST OF MY LIFE! HOPE, MEMORY, AND LOVE. What is Memory? A dimly lighted cell, What is Love? A fair and a holy thing, Evesham. M. T. S. |