still air, I thought of Gray's curfew--of that glimmering Stoke-Pogis
landscape that faded into immortality on his sight. I thought of
Matthisson's "Elegy" on this forlorn old dandy of a castle. I thought
of the sympathetic chest-notes with which I read to Mary Ashburton the
"Song of the Silent Land."

I thought of Francine, and of the condition of base terror I was in
when I ran away from her with the man who momentarily represented my
solvency, my credit and my respectability. May the foul fiend catch
me, sweet vision, if I do not find thee soon again! A Tyrolean, who
entered by stealth, persuaded a heart-rending lamentation to issue
from his wooden trumpet: although the acid sounds proceeding from this
terrible whistle set my teeth on edge and caused me at first to start
off my seat, yet I rewarded him with such a competency in copper as
made his eyes emerge from his face. A singing-girl and some blonde
bouquet-sellers had equal cause to rejoice in my generosity. It is
when a gentleman is landed finally on his coppers that he becomes
penny-liberal. I glanced defiance at Berkley, my creditor, as I
showered largess on these humble poets.

We descended under the stars, and I began to think that illuminated
gravel-roads were, at night, susceptible of some apology. We returned
to the city by easy stages, with a halt at the "Repose of Sophie."
At the hotel there was given me, re-directed in the pretty hand of
Francine, an unlimited credit from Munroe & Co. on the house of Meyer
in Baden-Baden. I was a freeman once more.

EDWARD STRAHAN.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]