"If you please, sir, may I sing a song?" "I did not know you could sing, Mr. Merriman." "O yes, sir, I can; I used to sing at the great 'uproar house' in London." "I am afraid that is a mistake, Mr. Merriman." "No, sir, it is not; I once got ten guineas for singing a song there." "You must excuse me, Mr. Merriman, but that I'm sure is an error." "No, sir, it is not; and I can prove it in a moment." "Sound W, gentlemen, if you please," he said. Of course the orchestra sounded an immense discord, and Tommy placed himself in an attitude for singing. "There was once a little maid Who lived by her trade, Whom her lover wanted to whe-e-dle; He tried to get a kiss, She scratched his nose with a ne-e-dle. "Then this little maid, She was very much afraid That her lover would come to-o-o her, Put her nightcap on her head, And fastened up the door with a ske-e-wer." No laughter that had occurred during the whole of the evening was equal to that elicited by the song, and Tommy made his exit amidst a shower of applause. left the circus, the eyes of the audience at the time being fixed on the clown. The circus remained two days longer in the town, and on each performance Tommy wore his new wig, which was a perfect success. I would now earnestly press on all circus managers my advice to adopt Tommy's experiment. It would not only be sure to succeed, and put money in their pockets, but very probably in the end they would assist in banishing from the British courts of justice that ridiculous piece of tomfoolery, -the barrister's wig. "I NEVER saw such rain in my life." My dear, it always rains at Genoa." "Then why does Murray' say that Genoa is a dry place, with sharp cutting winds?" "My dear, Murray' makes a mistake. I have been here- let me see -six times; and every time it has been just like this, close, muggy weather, and raining warm water." "I suppose it is the time of the year ?" "October: yes, I have always been here in October, certainly -on the way to Rome; but if a place were ever dry and cold, one would fancy it would be just in October. I can't say, though, that I ever saw it pelt as it does now: it is more like Ro man rain." "A nice prospect for the Magra!" "That odious Magra! How people can say that there is a road from Genoa to Pisa, when there is that thing right across the middle of it, I cannot imagine!" Such was the dialogue which took place between Mrs. Leslie and her daughter Mary, as they waited No sooner had the mirth somewhat subsided, the summons to the table d'hôte in their marblewhen to my intense horror, my friend and neigh-floored apartment at the Hôtel de la Croix de Malte bor, the Rev. Mr. Jones, rose from his seat, and, in spite of all my entreaties to the contrary, began to address the audience. "My dear friends," he said, "pray listen for a few moments to me, for, believe me, I am solely actuated by a desire for your good. Do not think that I want to restrain any innocent amusement; but let me ask you if a scene like this is a proper one for beings with immortal souls? Would not the attention you are here giving to irrational exercises and gross absurdities be far better employed in reflecting on the wickedness of your past lives, and making preparation for the great change which must some day overtake us all? with which the strongest cannot wrestle, nor the fleetest avail. Death may approach us at any hour, noiselessly and without notice. He may choose for his victims the young or the old, the rich or the poor. This very night he may call some of these present away, and what is the preparation which has been made to receive him? When I look around me Here he stopped short, and the muscles of his face underwent a series of extraordinary spasmodic contortions, while his eyes were intently fixed on the performers' entrance. I looked towards it and saw the head of Tommy, still arrayed in the barrister's wig, gazing from between the green baize curtains, as if he were looking out of bed, straight at the face of my reverend friend. Poor Jones tried to continue, but it was impossible; and at last, in spite of all his efforts to restrain himself, he burst into a hearty laugh. Then taking up his hat hurriedly, he at Genoa. Mary was in rather delicate health, and her mother was taking her to Rome for the winter in the hope of bringing some roses into her cheeks. Not that there was anything seriously the matter, but her lack of bloom was mortifying to maternal vanity. "Don't talk of being pale, my dear," Mrs. Leslie used to say; "paleness is one thing, and sallowness is another. I was a pale girl myself, but as to you, you look like a bit of waxwork fifty years old. You are never fit to be seen except by candlelight." She need not have been uneasy: many a rosy-cheeked damsel was thrown altogether into the shade by her pale daughter. 66 Blanche, are you ready?" said Mary, knocking at the door of an inner room. Well, I must say," as Blanche made her appearance, "that Annette has turned you out in good style; you don't look as if you had spent great part of yesterday on the top of Mont Cenis." Blanche was not Mrs. Leslie's daughter, though her name was also Leslie, but her niece, and the two cousins were the closest of friends; very much alike in spirit and animation, but in appearance such a contrast that each appeared to peculiar advantage in the presence of the other. Blanche was very tall, with a commanding sweep of figure, while Mary was rather square and substantial; Blanche had a complexion of lilies and roses, and a profusion of soft, sunny-brown hair, whose natural ringlets could scarcely be controlled by the plaitings and twistings which fashion required; but all this, though excessively pretty, in no way interfered with the charm of Mary's fine dark eyes, and beautifully-moulded head, on which the black hair, braided as closely as possible, shone glossy and smooth as velvet. In short, they would have made a perfect tableau as Rosalind and Celia. Blanche had been considerably spoilt by her mother, who had been left very young a widow with this only child, but who, happily perhaps, had died before the spoiling had gone seriously deep, and had left her daughter, a beauty and an heiress of thirteen, to the joint guardianship of her aunt, Mrs. Leslie, and of some old friends of her own, Lord and Lady Beresford, who, having no unmarried daughter, had insisted on taking Blanche to live with them immediately after her mother's death, now about four years ago; and she had continued to be the enfant de la maison ever since, to the extreme pleasure of the old couple, and apparently with tolerable contentment to herself, until this very autumn, when, for reasons of her own, she had taken a sudden freak to go to Rome with her aunt and cousin. This freak she had performed, it must be confessed, rather with the precipitation of a spoiled child than with the demureness to be expected from a damsel of seventeen. She had been brought to town by Lord and Lady Beresford, who came up in the hope, that now, Sebastopol being at last taken, any day might bring them home their only son, who had been some years absent on active service even before his regiment, the Rifle Brigade, had been ordered to the Crimea. One morning, when Mrs. Leslie's house in Green Street was astir with preparation, portmanteaus and milliners' baskets being drawn forth from their hiding-places, and ladies and ladies' maids in earnest consultation over them, just three days, in fact, before the southward journey was to begin, Lady Beresford's carriage drove to the door, and out stepped Blanche alone. "I am going with you to Rome," was her greeting to her astonished aunt; "don't say no, for I am quite determined; so if there is anything to be done about passports, please to do it; and as to the money, you must settle all that afterwards." My dear, does Lady Beresford approve?" Highly disapproves, of course; very angry indeed; but I have had it all out with her, and she knows she can't help it; so please, please, dear aunt, don't be cross. It is all settled; and Annette is to come in the evening with my luggage, for I am going to stay here till you go." child. If we are drowned, I shall always say you were the Jonah." "Satisfactory the information will be to the fishes," said Blanche, laughing. "A disconsolate damsel running away from her guardians always comes to grief," persisted Mary; it would not be moral if she did not, for the sake of example." 66 Blanche held up her head; her aunt and cousin often affronted her by laughing at her precipitate flight. "You may throw back that silly little head of yours," said her aunt, "but I shall always say the same: that you are behaving like a simpleton. I should think you were the only girl in England who would run away for fear of having to marry a young officer whom every one speaks well of, and who really must have a great deal in him to be so steady to his profession and heir to a peerage besides." "There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, Who would gladly be bride to the braw Lochinvar," sang Mary, in her gay, musical voice. "I don't care," said Blanche, laughing in spite of herself. "If he were an archangel I would have done just the same. Fancy writing to a man, and telling him to make haste home and marry me, me, whom he has never seen; and all because I have money! And what sort of muff must he be to do it?" "My dear, he has not done it," said Mary, shouting with laughter. "Come, be just, silly child," said her aunt; "his sentiments have in no way transpired; you don't even know whether his lordship's letter ever reached him." "A couple of old simpletons, begging their pardons," said Mary, "to have shown their game. If they had only let Colonel Beresford come home, crowned with laurels, and held their stupid tongues, you would have been safe to have fallen in love with each other." "Fancy," said Blanche, still in high indignation, "when I have never been out, never seen anything of life, to book me in that way: to tell me it was a settled thing, and that dearest mamma had agreed to it: a likely thing! You know, aunt, they said it was settled; Herbert must have consented." "I don't believe it," said her aunt; "but I'm sure I don't know. The Beresfords are not rich, and young men like money." Mrs. Leslie remonstrated; Mary remonstrated, Here the dinner-bell interrupted them; and Mrs. though so very glad, that her remonstrances lacked Leslie and Mary, still laughing, accompanied our force; but it was all the same, Blanche was quite incensed heroine down the broad marble staircase. determined; and it was not till after much cross- Any one who has travelled along the beautiful questioning that she condescended to reveal the rea-coast-road from Genoa to Pisa knows that the usual sons of her proceeding, which were not received by topic at a Genoa table d'hôte is the probability or her aunt and cousin with the gravity she expected. non-probability of being able to cross the Magra (so However, Mrs. Leslie, of course, made a point of at least it was before the railway had been carried going to Lady Beresford as soon as possible for a over it, as we understand is now the case); and as, private consultation, about which her niece knew in the month of October, every one is pressing southnothing: the result of which was that it was settled, ward, the Magra is for the time being the "bourne though most reluctantly on the part of the poor old from whence no traveller returns" to give the decouple, that the wilful child must have her way; and sired information. accordingly she had set forth with the Leslies, and found herself with them, on the rainy afternoon in question, at the Hôtel de la Croix de Malte, at Genoa. Did you ever see such rain?" was her first remark, as it had been Mary's. "We were just saying," said Mary, "that we have a charming prospect for the Magra. It serves us right for aiding and abetting you, you naughty | There happened, however, on the present occasion to be an exception to the general rule. A party of young officers, on their return from the Crimea, had just arrived from Pisa, and could certify that the Magra was passable two days ago, but said to be swelling every moment, as indeed must, they feared, be the case in such rain. "I am sorry to hear that," said a very distinguished-looking young man, who had just come in, and whose beard and bronzed cheek betokened him | ful, which added enchanting effects of light and also to be a Crimean; "a bad look-out for me." "For you, my good fellow?" asked one of the officers, to whom, as indeed to all the rest, the new arrival seemed well known; "you are going in our direction, are you not? Indeed, I thought you were at home already." "On the contrary," said the young man, laughing, "I am this moment come from Marseilles by the packet." "From Marseilles?" exclaimed several voices at We cannot deny that at this our two young dies exchanged imperceptible glances; half-conscious thoughts just shooting through their minds to the effect that they might perhaps meet this very pleasantlooking stranger in some of the parties in Rome. It was certainly within the range of possibility. 66 'Well, you're a cool hand, that's certain, after two years' absence not to go and see your own people." "After six, you may say; you know our brigade was ordered straight from the Cape to the Crimea." "More shame for you, you undutiful fellow; but I suppose there's a strong attraction at Rome ?" "A strong repulsion somewhere else." This was in a lower tone, but did not escape his opposite neighbors, though the conclusion of the sentence did. "Well, we shall have you back soon, at any rate," was the reply. "You know you're safe of your Victoria Cross." The conversation then turned again on the Magra, and every one had something wonderful to refate of that formidable torrent. There may be even in this age some few who stay at home, and such may happen never to have heard of the Magra. For their benefit, therefore, we must state that it is a mountain stream between Spezzia and Carrara, which, in its normal state, is a modest brook easily fordable; but, unfortunately for travellers from the north, the season when they wish to cross it being in the very midst of the autumn rains, it is at that time in anything but this amiable condition; for a few days of wet sometimes suffice to swell it to such a pitch that it carries away, not only the bridges which men from time to time have attempted to throw over it, but vineyards and olivegroves, and even whole villages, leaving the Val di Magra (of which Dante sings) a scene of utter desolation. When in a state anything approaching to this, it can with difficulty be crossed even in a boat, on account of the swiftness of the current; and of course it is the interest, and consequently the practice, of the innkeepers at Spezzia to persuade travellers that matters are in this condition much oftener than they really are. This refers, as was before said, to the state of things some years ago. If, as we have been told, the Magra is now really spanned by a railway bridge which it is unable to sweep away, it must be a great loss to the Spezzia innkeepers, but a great blessing to the travellers whom they have been in the habit of fleecing. II. shade to the beautiful coast-road along which their first day's journey led them; but as they reached its termination, the curious, rocky Sestri, jutting far out into the sea, the sun was setting in a bank of formidable storm-clouds; and before the night was over, the pattering of heavy rain against the windows, heard even in the midst of the howling of winds and dashing of waves, promised badly for the Magra. On the next evening, when the lumbering vettura which contained our three ladies, their two ladies' maids, their courier, Brissot (now getting old and past his work), and an unlimited amount of Inggage, arrived at the exquisite little town of Spezzia, all inquiries on this engrossing subject were met, as usual, with a mournful shake of the head. Nonsense, Brissot," said Mrs. Leslie, who did not readily believe in impossibility; "don't you know the people at the inn always say that?" A mournful shake of the head was Brissot's only reply. 66 Well," said Mrs. Leslie, "let us have our breakfast in peace, at all events, and then we will settle what is to be done." Spezzia is certainly a little Paradise, there can be no doubt about that; but no one likes to remain even in Paradise on compulsion; and, on a rainy day, a pretty place has no very material advantage over an ugly one; and the thought of having to maintain a vetturino and four horses through an unlimited futurity of enforced idleness is enough to change Paradise into something not unlike its antipodes. However, there seemed no fighting against fate. "What must be must, I suppose," said Mrs. Leslie. "But, my dear aunt," said Blanche, "what on earth shall we do with ourselves here all day?" 66 What, my dear?-collapse on our beds, of course," said Mary, always weary enough to be patient of a day of compulsory repose. "Well, I have a suggestion to make," said Blanche. 66 | 66 No," said Blanche; "float on our crinolines. But seriously, tell me, aunt, - we must pay for the man and the horses to-day, whether we use them or not?" "I am afraid it is so written in the bond. The Magra comes decidedly under the head of Force Majeure." "I thought so: well, then, why not use them? Suppose we tell Brissot to pay the bill and pack ev erything, and then drive to the water's edge and see for ourselves. If we have to turn back, we shall at least have the comfort of knowing that we have not been cheated." "That is what I call strong-minded," said Mrs. Leslie; "a very good plan." Accordingly Brissot was summoned, and, after a ALL that evening the rain kept pouring on; but little argumentation, consented to the arrangement. the next morning the blue sky reappeared, and our In process of time it was announced that all was travellers set forth in sunshine, brilliant, though fit-ready, and they went down to the carriage amid the Saturday reiterated assurances of landlord and waiters that | splashing close to them, and looking out, saw a light they would be back again before dinner time. "Is the Magra passable?" asked Mrs. Leslie of a long-bearded, sandalled Capuchin, who stood in the hall. 66 Spero, ma dubito," was the cautious reply: but there was a twinkle in his eye somewhat reassuring. Off they drove, splashing through the mud; and at last, as they drew near the sandy, slushing plain of the torrent, a large travelling-carriage and four, straight from the Magra, dashed triumphantly towards them, the coachman nodding to their vetturino as he passed. travelling-carriage containing two gentlemen, one of them apparently an Italian, but the other, a young Englishman, -the very Crimean officer returned from Marseilles, whom they had met at the table d'hôte, and who, springing into the water, was in an instant at their window. "For heaven's sake, sir," shouted Brissot, "take care! you are risking your life! you can never stand against the current; and you don't know all the holes in the river as these people do." "Never you mind that," said the Englishman; and in a moment he looked to the broken harness, saw what was the matter, and, rapidly desiring his Ital "Si passa," said the vetturino; and Brissot, look-ian friend (who showed no disposition to tempt the ing back into the carriage, telegraphed that all was right. When they had got fairly down on the strand, it appeared that the torrent had forced out for itself a second channel of no inconsiderable width, which must be crossed before arriving at the main stream. A little boat was in readiness to ferry over the passengers; but Brissot decided that, as it was raining hard, the ladies had better sit still in the carriage, for the half-naked, savage-looking beings who came crowding round, assured him that this channel was easily fordable. The first thing to be done was to take out the horses and put oxen in their stead, which they harnessed with ropes; an affair which took more than twenty minutes to accomplish. It was accomplished at last, however, and to the music of the most unearthly shoutings and shriekings, the heavily-laden equipage was launched with a desperate plunge into the rushing, turbid stream. With great difficulty the oxen strained against the current, the carriage lurching most unpleasantly. On they went, howev er, with struggling plunges, till, in the very midst of the torrent, crack went the ropes, down went the two foremost beasts, kicking and floundering, while the carriage remained planted in the water, which so filled it in a moment that Mrs. Leslie and one of the maids were sitting up to their knees in water, as in a foot-tub, though the young ladies, with more presence of mind and agility, had tucked their feet up on the seat. stream himself) to drive on rapidly to Sarzana and order abundant fires, he set himself to repair the mischief with straps from the portmanteaus, to the astonishment of the unaccustomed savages whom he pressed into his service, and to the unbounded gratitude and admiration of Brissot. The ladies scarcely saw what was going on; but the very presence of an Englishman and an officer reassured them; and when their carriage resumed its equilibrium, and the oxen began slowly to move it forwards, before there had been time to bring rope from Spezzia, they knew whose resource and promptitude they had to thank. At last the carriage, with the ladies still in it, was safely stowed away on board the large flat-bottomed boat which is ferried across the main stream, and which makes slow progress against the powerful current. "I hope you are not very wet," said the Englishman, coming to the window. Not materially, thank you," said Blanche. "Only mamma," said Mary, "who chose to sit with her feet in the water." "I don't know how to thank you enough," said Mrs. Leslie. "I am sure you saved our lives." "I can hardly flatter myself so much as that," said the young man, smiling. "I don't think you were in any real danger." "We were in a great deal of fear, at all events," said Blanche, laughing. "I don't think I ever felt frightened before." "Then indeed you behaved like a heroine; for I did not hear any approach to a scream." "Don't scream," whispered Blanche to the maid, who, looking out of window, had seen one wheel portentously elevated. "Dear aunt, don't be fright- Except from me," interrupted Mrs. Leslie; "I ened; see how shallow it is; these men are all wad-never could stand cold water." ing; the water is barely up to their waists." But Mrs. Leslie was given to screaming: though very enterprising, she wanted presence of mind, and drowning was her especial aversion; so she screamed on. Mary sat quite still and silent, a shade paler than usual, but showing no other sign of alarm. "Dear ladies!-angels of ladies!" sobbed Brissot, looking back from the box, "they are gone back to the town for more rope: don't be frightened." All the way to Spezzia ?" asked Blanche; "a pleasant prospect!" "I am afraid you have had too much of it, dear mamma," said Mary, anxiously: "how you shiver; you are drenched through! I do hope you have not caught cold." "Quick, quick! get to Sarzana as fast as possible," said the Englishman, expediting as much as he could the tardy process of landing and harnessing, and then mounting the seat by the vetturino. His presence seemed to put a little mettle both into driver and horses, and it was not long before they arrived. "I hope there is a good fire for these ladies, and plenty of hot water," said he, in excellent Italian, to the obsequious padrone; "they have got wet in the Magra." The girls scorned the idea of being frightened; but they felt by no means comfortable when the overloaded carriage began to incline very decidedly to one side; and the shouting, screaming creatures who were splashing round them did not afford much consolation; for when Mrs. Leslie asked imploringly if there were no means of being carried to the far- The Englishman, without waiting for a word of ther bank, they only shook their heads and pointed thanks, hurried them to the door of their apartto the current, which was sweeping by with dizzy-ment, and took his leave. There they were much ing velocity. comforted at the sight of what seemed half a tree "All ready, eccelenza: the other signore ordered it; if these ladies will follow me." At this moment our prisoners heard a tremendous | already blazing on the hearth, while men and maids in abundance were proffering hot water and warm- | and of contemptible stature, you will be set down for ing-pans. the eldest, which I consider a great triumph, I being nearly two years ahead." "Let me look at you, my dears," said Mrs. Leslie, coming into the room, "and see if I approve of your appearance." These last were much to the purpose; for Mrs. Leslie, at least, was so thoroughly drowned as to be fit for nothing but bed, especially as the luggage had got so wet that almost every article had to be unpacked and hung out to dry beside the ample fire, before a change could be procured. The ladies' maids were in great woe over soaked dresses and dripping bonnets; but the young ladies themselves bore the contretemps with smiling philosophy, more occupied, if the truth be told, with speculating on who the hero might be who had so opportunely come to their rescue, than with mourning over the damage to their wardrobe incurred by the misadventure. Their curiosity as to their benefactor was not, however, destined to be then satisfied; for when, after drying, and dressing, and dining, they inquired for him, they were told that he had only just stayed to change his dress, and then had driven on with his companion towards Pietra Santa, en route for Pisa and Florence. III. "WELL, Blanche, how do you feel, now that you are starting for your first ball? I remember I felt all in a cold creep from head to foot." "Yes," said Blanche, laughing, "and vexed your mother, I know, by looking like a piece of faded waxwork, as she is always calling you." "But I want to know how you feel yourself, and that is just what you won't tell me. Let me look at you: no faded waxwork there, certainly, though I am not sure that you are not the least bit paler than usual; let me feel your pulse." "Like Hamlet to his mother? You won't get any more satisfaction out of me than Mrs. Hamlet did out of him; here, ― feel," holding out her white, braceletted wrist. "It temperately keeps time," said Mary, "I cannot deny it; but don't you feel in the least as if something were going to happen?" "O Mary, it is only in story-books that heroines meet their destiny, like Cinderella, at their first ball." "Is it only in story-books?" "I can't judge; of course you can, who have been out one season already." She must have been fastidious, if she had not approved of the two graceful figures which stood before her for inspection, throwing off burnous and shawl, and revealing the simple tarlatan dresses looped with roses and lilies of the valley, while a wreath of the same flowers crowned each young head, equally becoming to the dark classic braids of the one, and the luxuriant golden tresses of the other. She was fastidious enough, but this time she did approve thoroughly, and was well pleased to have such a niece and daughter to present to the Roman world, of which she herself, in her youth, had been no inconsiderable ornament. The two young English girls were thoroughly appreciated at the Princess del D's ball, and the more so that they were the only English, and consequently the only unmarried ladies present. They were engaged for half the evening before they had been in the room five minutes. 66 Signorina mia, mi permitti di presentarle il Signor Colonello," something quite foreign to any English name that was ever heard of. Blanche looked up, and found that the bridegroom Principe was presenting to her no other than the hero of the Magra. She was sitting at that moment by her aunt, who, though she had no idea what the name was, could do no other than frankly extend her hand, and tell the gentleman how glad she was to meet him again, and how glad she should be to see him if he would call the following evening at her apartments in the Piazza di Spagna. It was rather late in the ball, and Blanche was engaged, as we have seen, for many dances; however, she gladly promised her hand for the first dance she had free. The stranger did not seem enthusiastic about dancing; for when he found that Mary also was engaged, he stood aloof, a mere spectator, until the time came when he could claim Blanche as his partner. "Who is he?" inquired Mrs. Leslie of one of the ladies of her acquaintance. "Un certo colonello, non so," answered she, with the peculiar Italian shrug; "viene da Crimea; figlio di milord a buonissima famiglia; ma il nome, non so." "Well, not one's destiny, perhaps; but things do happen at balls; and I should think in Rome, par-lo ticularly, where all people worth knowing are sure to turn up, as mamma says, at one time or another. Suppose, now, we were to meet our hero of the Magra; would you call that an adventure?" "A very likely one to happen, if only we were going to an English house; he must be in Rome by "Those English names are so difficult," said another; " Creco, Creci, mi pare; che so to?" Among the numbers who were presented to Mrs. Leslie and her young ladies they recognized the Italian gentleman who was the travelling companion of their friend at the Magra, and who was introduced as the Principe B- -; but as the young ladies were engaged, and so unable to dance with him, he merely bowed and sought a partner elsewhere, which was a disappointment, as some information might have been hoped for from him. As it was, they were obliged to remain in ignorance, promising themselves to search the visitors' book at Piale's the next morning, which Mrs. Leslie felt the more imperative as she could not help seeing that the unknown and Blanche seemed to be getting on remarkably well. Blanche, as a beauty and an heiress, was no inconsiderable charge; and though her aunt had assisted her escape from the summary "marrying-up" which her simple-hearted guardians had projected, yet in her secret soul she |