old story when a friend asks you what he thinks a favour, the right thing is to grant it at once. He doesn't want your advice; he wants the one thing he asks for. There, get me the bills, and I'll draw a cheque on Müller: Herries advised him by Saturday's post; so we can draw on Monday.' "All right, old man," said Severne, and went away briskly for the bills. When he got from the balcony into the room, his steps flagged a little; it struck him that ink takes time to dry, and more time to darken. As the Rover, with her nimble cargoes, was first cousin to the Flying Dutchman, with his crew of ghosts, so the bills received by Severne as purchase-money for his ship, necessarily partook of that ship's aerial character. Indeed they existed, as the schoolmen used to say, in posse, but not in esse. Το be less pedantic and more exact, they existed as slips of blank paper with a Government stamp. To give them a mercantile character for a time-viz., until presented for payment-they must be drawn by an imaginary shipowner or a visionary merchant, and endorsed by at least one shadow and a man of straw. them at maturity? His only real concern was to conceal their recent origin. So he wrote them with a broad-nibbed pen, that they might be the blacker, and set them to dry in the sun. He then proceeded to a change of toilet. While thus employed, there was a sharp tap at his door, and Vizard's voice outside. Severne started with terror, snapped up the three bills with the dexterity of a conjurorthe handle turned-he shoved them into a drawer-Vizard came in-he shut the drawer, and panted. Vizard had followed the custom of Oxonians, amongst themselves, which is to knock, and then come in, unless forbidden. "Come," said he, cheerfully, "those bills; I'm in a hurry to cash them now, and end the only difference we have ever had, old fellow." The blood left Severne's cheek and lips for a moment, and he thought swiftly and hard. The blood returned, along with his ready wit. "How good you are!" said he: "but no; it is Sunday." "Sunday!" shouted Vizard. "What is that to you, a fellow who has been years abroad?" 66 "I can't help it," said Severne, The man of straw sat down to in- apologetically. "I am superstitious scribe self and shadows, and be- don't like to do business on a came a dishonest writer of fiction; Sunday. I would not even shunt for the art he now commenced ap- at the tables on a Sunday—I don't pears to fall short of forgery proper, think." but to be still more distinct from justifiable fiction. The ingenious Mr Defoe's certificate by an aerial justice of the peace to the truth of his ghostly narrative comes nearest to it in my poor reading. Qualms he had, but not deep. If the bills were drawn by Imagination, accepted by Fancy, and endorsed by Impudence, what did it matter to Ned Straw, since his system would enable him to redeem VOL. CXX.-NO. DCCXXIX. "Ah, you are not quite sure of that; there is a limit to your superstition! Well, will you listen to a story on a Sunday?" "Rather." "Then, once on a time there was a Scotch farmer who had a bonny cow; and another farmer coveted her honestly. One Sunday they went home together from kirk, and there was the cow grazing. Farmer 2 stopped, eyed her, and said to B Farmer 1,-Gin it were Monday, as it is the Sabba' day, what would ye tak' for your coo?' The other said the price would be nine pounds, if it was Monday. And so they kept the Sabbath; and the cow changed hands, though, to the naked eye, she grazed on in situ. Our negotiation is just as complete. So what does it matter whether the actual exchange of bills and cash takes place to-day or to-morrow?" "Do you really mean to say it does not matter to you?" asked Severne. "Not one straw." "Then, as it does not matter to you, and does to me, give me my foolish way, like a dear good fellow." "Now, that is smart," said Vizard-" very smart;" then, with a look of parental admiration," he gets his own way in everything. He will have your money-he won't have your money. I wonder whether he will consent to walk those girls out, and disburden me of their too profitable discourse." "That I will, with pleasure." "Well, they are at luncheonwith their bonnets on." "I will join them in five minutes." After luncheon, Miss Vizard, Miss Vizard, Miss Dover, and Mr Severne started for a stroll. Miss Maitland suggested that Vizard should accompany them. "Couldn't think of deserting you," said he, drily. The young ladies giggled, because these two rarely opened their mouths to agree, one being a professed woman-hater, and the other a manhater, in words. Says Misander, in a sourish way, Since you value my conversation so, perhaps you will be good enough not to smoke for the next ten minutes." "Yes; a little flirtation." "A great deal more than that. I caught them, in this very room, making love." "You alarm me," said Vizard, with marked tranquillity. "I saw him-kiss-her-hand." "You relieve me," said Vizard, as calmly as he had been alarmed. "There's no harm in that. I've kissed the Queen's hand, and the nation did not rise upon me. However, I object to it; the superior sex should not play the spaniel. I will tell him to drop that. But, permit me to say all this is in your department, not mine." "But what can I do against three of them, unless you support me There you have let them go out together." "Together with Fanny Dover you mean?" "Yes; and if Fanny had any designs on him, Zoe would b safe And poor Ned torn in two." "But Fanny, I am grieved t say, seems inclined to assist thi young man with Zoe; that is because it does not matter to he She has other views seriou ones." "Serious! What? A nunnery Then I pity my lady abbess." "Her views are plain enough anybody but you." "Are they? Then make me wise as my neighbours." 'Well, then, she means to mar you." "What! Oh, come !—that is t good a joke!" "It is sober earnest. Ask Zoe ask your friend Mr Severne-a the chamber-maids-ask any cr Oh ture with an eye in its head. "Even my own familiar cousin once removed-in whom I trusted! I depute you to inform her that I think her adorable, and that matrimony is no longer a habit of mine. Set her on to poor Severne; he is a ladies' man, and the more the merrier' is his creed." "Such a girl as Fanny is not to be diverted from a purpose of that sort. Besides, she has too much sense to plunge into the Severne and-pauperism! She is bent on a rich husband, not a needy adventurer." "Madam, in my friend's name, I thank you." "You are very welcome, sir-it is only the truth." Then, with a swift return to her original topic: "No; I know perfectly well what Fanny Dover will do this afternoon. She sketches." "It is too true," said Vizard, dolefully: "showed me a ship in full sail, and I praised it in my way. I said, 'That rock is rather well done."" "Well, she will be seized with a desire to sketch. She will sit down apart, and say: 'Please don't watch me-it makes me nervous.' The other two will take the hint, and make love a good way off; and Zoe will go greater lengths, with another woman in sight-but only just in sight, and slily encouraging her than if she was quite alone with her mauvais sujet." Vizard was pleased with the old lady. "This is sagacious," said he, "and shows an eye for detail. I recognise in your picture the foxy sex. But, at this moment, who can foretell which way the wind will blow? You are not aware, perhaps, that Zoe and Fanny have had a quarrel. They don't speak. Now, in women, you know, vices are controlled by vices-see Pope. The conspiracy you dread will be averted by the other faults of their character, their jealousy, and their petulant tempers. Take my word for it, they are sparring at this moment; and that poor, silly Severne mediating and moderating, and getting scratched on both sides for trying to be just." At this moment the door opened, and Fanny Dover glittered on the threshold in Cambridge blue. "There," said Vizard; "did not I tell you? They are come home." "Only me," said Fanny, gaily. "Where are the others?" inquired Miss Maitland, sharply. "Not far off-only by the riverside." "And you left those two alone!" "Now don't be cross, aunt," cried Fanny, and limped up to her. "These new boots are so tight, I really couldn't bear them any longer. I believe I shall be lame as it is." "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. What will the people say?" "La, aunt! it is Abroad. One does what one likes-out of England." "Here's a code of morals!" said Vizard, who must have his slap. "Nonsense," said Miss Maitland; "she will be sure to meet somebody. All England is on the Rhine at this time of year; and, whether or no, is it for you to expose that child to familiarity with a person nobody knows, nor his family either? You are twenty-five years old; you know the world; you have as poor an opinion of the man as I have, or you would have set your own cap at him-you know you would; and you have let out things to me when you were off your guard. Fanny Dover, you are behaving wickedly; you are a false friend to that poor girl." Upon this, lo! the pert Fanny, hitherto so ready with her answers, began to cry bitterly; the words really pricked her conscience; and to be scolded is one thing, to be severely and solemnly reproached is another-and before a man! The official woman - hater was melted in a moment by the saucy girl's tears. "There-there," said he, kindly; "have a little mercy. Hang it all! don't make a mountain of a mole-hill." The official man - hater never moved a muscle. "It is no use her crying to me: she must give me proof she is sorry. Fanny, if you are a respectable girl, and have any idea of being my heir, go you this moment and bring them home." "Yes, aunt," said Fanny, eagerly; and went off with wonderful alacrity. It was a very long apartment, full forty feet; and while Fanny bustled down it, Miss Maitland extended a skinny finger, like one of Macbeth's witches, and directed Vizard's eye to the receding figure so pointedly, that he put up his spy-glass the better to see the phenomenon. As Fanny skipped out and closed the door, Miss Maitland turned to Vizard, with lean finger still pointing after Fanny, and uttered a monosyllable "LAME!" Vizard burst out laughing. "La fourbe !" said he. "Miss Maitland, accept my compliments; you possess the key to a sex no fellow can unlock. And now I have found an interpreter, I begin to be interested in this little comedy. The first act is just over. There will be half an hour's wait till the simulatrix of infirmity comes running back with the pilgrims of the Rhine. Are they 'the pilgrims of the Rhine' or 'the pilgrims Love' Time will show. Play to recommence with a verbal encounter: you will be one against of three; for all that, I don't envy the greater number." "Three to one? No. Surely you will be on the right side for once." "Well, you see, I am the audience. We can't be all dramatis personæ, and no spectator. During the wait, I wonder whether the audience, having nothing better to do, may be permitted to smoke a cigar." "So long a lucid interval is irksome, of course. Well, the balcony is your smoking-room. You will see them coming; please tap at my door the moment you do." Half an hour elapsed, an hour, and the personages required to continue the comedy did not return. Vizard, having nothing better to do, fell to thinking of Ina Klosking, and that was not good for him. Solitude and ennui fed his mania, and at last it took the form of action. He rang, and ordered up his man Harris, a close, discreet personage, and directed him to go over to Homburg and bring back all the information he could about the new singer; her address in Homburg, married or single, prude or coquette. Should information be withheld, Harris was to fee the porter at the opera - house, the waiter at her hotel, and all the human commodities that knew anything about her. Having dismissed Harris, he lighted his seventh cigar, and said to himself, "It is all Ned Severne's fault. I wanted to leave for England to-day." The day had been overcast for some time, and now a few big drops fell, by way of warning. Then it turned cool; then came a light drizzling rain, and, in the middle of this, Fanny Dover appeared, almost flying home. Vizard went and tapped at Miss Maitland's door. She came out. "Here's Miss Dover coming, but she is alone." IN A STUDIO.CONVERSATION NO. V. Belton. Is this Freedom's temple? Is this door its portal? If so, here is a subject for your art. Behold me. I am the Washington of Robert Treat Paine-repulsing with his breast the assaults of the thunder, and conducting "every flash to the deep" with the point of my sword. Listen "Should the tempest of war overshadow our land, Its bolts ne'er could rend Freedom's temple asunder; For, unmoved at its portal would Washington stand, And repulse with his breast the assaults of the thunder." Mallett. Bravo! Bravo! Belton. I have not been able to get those lines out of my mind since you repeated them the other day. I have been reciting them to myself ever since, in a loud declamatory tone, striking an attitude, and repulsing with my breast the assault of the thunder. Tell me something more about this amazing Paine. Mallett. After our conversation the other day, on my return home, I refreshed my own memory by reading a biographical sketch of him by his friend Mr Charles Prentiss; and being in the vein, I then took up the life of Dr Darwin, the famous poet, written by the scarcely less famous Miss Anna Seward. They amused me so much that I have brought them both down to the studio to read you some choice passages from each. Belton. Pray do. Mallett. To begin with Robert Treat Paine. Slightingly as you may think of his genius, he was thought to be the great poet of his age in America. Mr Prentiss says of his poems that "they are the legitimate and indisputable heirs of immortality ;" and he boldly prophesies that "he will take his place, not by the courtesy of the coming age, but by the full and consentient suffrage of posterity, on the same shelf with the prince of English rhyme "— by whom he means, of course, Dryden. Belton. Does it not make one doubt our own judgment of our contemporaries, when we hear such trumpeting as this about a man whose very name has now passed into oblivion ? Mallett. Ah! you never came in contact with him personally, and you can therefore form little idea of the influence he exerted. Mr Selfridge, his friend, says of him : "Once engaged he was an electric battery; approach him and he scintillated-touch him and he emitted a blaze." Belton. What a tremendous fellow, to be sure! Mallett. This was the judgment formed of his powers, not by common vulgar flatterers, but by men of ability and distinction, such as Mr Selfridge and Mr Prentiss, both of whom were men of very considerable power and repute. Belton. All I can say is that it is simply amazing. Mallett. Great as the temporary reputation of Paine was in America, the reputation of Dr Darwin in England was higher and wider. The distinction which he won in his profession of medicine was overshadowed by his fame as a poet; and his admirable medical works were held in far less esteem than the pompous, artificial, and ingeniously absurd poems of 'The Botanic Garden,' and the 'Loves of the Plants,' with their gnomes and nymphs and ridiculous impersonations, which were afterwards so admirably travestied by Canning in his 'Loves of the Triangles.' If anything could be more absurd than |