He was "odd boy" about the place when my friend's father married. He had been in that service twenty-five years when I first met him. The idea of going away to "better himself" was, I believe, the only one that did not enter Dan's angular cranium. He was not perfect. I regret to say that once in a while he got exceedingly drunk. His master was rather a quick-tempered man, and time after time discharged him on the spot-but he never went.

Where are you now, oh, ambidexterous Dan? Is that honest clever right hand of yours with the dust, or is it still busy amongst your things? Ah, no! How time flies! Twelve years ago I met the "little Milly" of the days I write of, a grown-up young lady. The three gallant soldier boys, her brothers, are all gone. Has the grim Reaper spared you, Dan? Anyhow you are too old to work, and the amazing problem-what has become of your things—is too maddening to be entertained.

A. DE F.

Four Sonnets.

I.

THE MINSTREL OF MANKIND.

To sound the true philosophy of things;

To find resemblances where none appear;
To learn the free and facile use of wings;
To bring at will remotest objects near;
To be at once a chronicler and seer;
To thrill creation's harp, and from its strings
Draw ever-varying music sweet and clear;
To live aloft in wild imaginings;

To follow no man on a beaten way,

But in new spheres of thought new language find,

While beauteous images incessant play

Upon the polished facets of the mind;

This is to be no songster of to-day;

This is to be the minstrel of mankind.

II.

WINTER AT MENTONE.

COME, let us sit beside the twisted boles
Of olives alway green, by scarps defended,

Absorb the partial summer in our souls

And dream the reign of ice and mistral ended,

And mark the torrent's foam and sunshine blended,

And citron slopes all golden meet the shoals

O'er which the heaving sapphire sea, extended

Into a cove of palm and aloes, rolls.

Talk not of winter while the labiate flowers
Breathe choicest odours from vermilion lips,
And villas hide themselves in leafy bowers,
Nor any clouds the faithful sun eclipse,

Nor changing climate comes with changing hours,
Nor biting frost the orange-blossom nips.

III.

THE POET.

WHEN nature writes in cipher you can read
Her mystic sense, which pedants fail to see.
You pierce the heart of system, fact and creed,
And steep in your own hues all things that be,
Yet to yourself remain a mystery;
Doubled in all, and anxious beyond need-

All eye, all ear, all brain, all sympathy—
With food sublime your cravings vast you feed.
Oh feeble, fragile thing, so full of power!
Who gave you over men that lofty seat?
Who fired your lips with that surprising dower
Of uttering things so grand, so true, so sweet?
A life and more you live in every hour,

And with immortal throbs your pulses beat.

IV.

WINGED SEEDS.

WAFT them, ye breezes, on from mind to mind,
And whirl the bristly pappus high in air,
And let each tender seed prolific find

A welcome nook, a mould congenial, where
It may develop its corolla fair,

Dispread its calyx, and against rude wind
Erect a firm stem, and the softest hair
Upon its surface fearlessly unbind :-
If any latent beauty in the germ

Be casket of a truth more precious far,"

I charge you guard that beauty from the worm,
And for the truth a way to light unbar;
And all the seedling's innate force comfirm

In souls which like well-watered gardens are.

J. C. EARLE.

The Wooing O't.

A NOVEL.

CHAPTER XXX.

EASTNOR was at once old and new. It occupied two sides of a craggy angle, hardly high enough to be dignified with the name of cliff. Beneath the eastern and loftier portion nestled an irregular village of fishermen's cottages, with picturesque red-tiled roofs, interspersed with a few better but very old-fashioned houses, which was all of accommodation the place could boast for strangers, eight or ten years previously. However, a rich railway magnate had by some curious involvement of circumstances become the possessor of a stretch of sandy common which sloped to the sea on the western side, and here he erected a Royal Esplanade, a Royal Hotel of massive design, after Pugin (a long way), and a garden, with an erection like a gigantic umbrella for the accommodation of a German band, which was intermittent in its attendance, owing to the uncertain nature of the subsidies.

Thus old and new Eastnor turned their backs on each other. For some occult reason Cockneys had not yet found out the place, but the dowager Duchess of St. Perigord, who was very much out of health and depressed" derangement of the nervous system," said Sir Saville Row-really a severe course of breakfasts, luncheons, dinners and suppers, and a little two free an application of phlebotomy to her pocket by an ill-judged purchase of railway shares under the direction of the above-mentioned magnate-the Duchess, we say, was induced, by the loan, rent-free, of a house on the Esplanade, to try the restorative breezes of Eastnor. It was during her stay there that the remarkable recovery in the Wessex and East Anglia scrip took place, which saved more firms from smashing than was generally known. Her Grace consequently returned to town in high health and spirits, quite eloquent as to the life-giving nature of Eastnor air, about the capital fish to be had for a mere song, the delightful fishing boats, and the primitive charm of old Eastnor. Every one in her Grace's set was talked to, and a very fair reputation established for Eastnor. Still it did not make rapid progress, and was still sufficiently free from vulgar notoriety to be somewhat attractive on that score.

When Maggie and Lady Dormer arrived they found the judicious Johnson had engaged the very corner house indicated by Mrs. Berry.

It was a large mansion of brown paper consistency and imposing dimensions. Nevertheless when Maggie looked around on the scanty and not over luxurious furniture, she thought of Grantham, and wondered how its mistress would support such a state of things in this temporary abode. After much consultation with Johnson, who was glad to find our young lady's secretary "so knowledgeable" on such subjects, they managed, with the help of a local upholsterer, who lent out his stock to oblige visitors at something like a hundred per cent. remuneration, with plants and ferns and a few ornaments, to make the house cheerful and even seemly before the arrival of the mistress.

At last, after two disappointments, she came.

Maggie felt as if new life and warmth had been suddenly infused into the household by her presence.

It was a cold raw February evening when she reached Eastnor, and the ambitious little place was far from looking its best. Maggie, however, had grand fires made up, and all the new periodicals set forth, and views of Eastnor, and a fair supply of novels at hand; so when the fair princess arrived everything looked comfortable.

My dear Miss Grey, I am so glad to see you!"-a kind little kiss on her forehead-" and how nice and comfortable you have made everything quite homelike. Do you know I am so pleased to be here, though it is a bleak looking place ?—and I have quantities to tell you. Lady Brockhurst has arrived ?"

"Yes; the day before yesterday, I think."

"Do you know who is with her ?"

"Not in the least."

"Now, remember, you are to be in the drawing-room every evening; we cannot get on without you-cards or music, you are quite indispensable."

Miss Grantham was evidently in high spirits and good humour, and her kindness was so unvarying that Maggie began to be assured and at home, even in the goodly company which quickly rallied round the heiress.

The very evening Miss Grantham had arrived, as the three ladies were sipping their tea after a somewhat late dinner, Lady Brockhurst and Captain Neville were announced.

The gay and enterprising little Viscountess had wrapped herself in furs and ran across from the opposite corner of the Esplanade, escorted by her brother.

"Here I am, my dear Miss Grantham, to have a little gossip. Is it not delightful to be able to go in and out without any fuss or trouble?"

66

Charming! So glad to see you. Had you a pleasant sojourn at the Loughtons'?"