speedily sold off.

Stratford's name was not prefixed to it, at his own especial request; he did not want to plunge deeper into the mazes of falsehood than he had already done. But Talbot had proclaimed with such unwearied perseverance that Stratford was the author of the condemned tragedy, that his name on the title page would have been quite an unnecessary identification. Poor Talbot! he certainly had much to try his patience at present. Stratford received abundance of invitations, in virtue of his successful authorship; he went to many parties in the character of a lion, where he was treated with much solemn reverence, and his most commonplace remark was evidently treasured as the quintessence of wit and judgment. These festivities Talbot did not wish to share. But frequently Stratford was invited to literary, real literary parties, where every body in the room was celebrated for doing something better than it is done by people in general; and were any half dozen guests taken at random from the assemblage, they would have sufficed to stud an ordinary party with stars. Here Stratford was introduced to brilliant novelists, exquisite poets, profound scholars, and men of searching science. Here, also, he met with literary women, as gentle and unassuming as they were gifted and celebrated, who wore their laurels with as much

simplicity as if they had been wild flowers; and who, so far from possessing any of the old-fashioned pedantry which has aptly been defined as "intellectual tight lacing," were ready to converse on the most trite and every-day subjects-casting, however, over every subject on which they conversed, the pure and cheering sunshine of genius.

All these new acquaintance of Stratford's were extremely kind and encouraging in their manner towards him, inquiring into his tastes and employments, praising him for that which he had already done, and encouraging him to do more in future. Such society and such conversation would have realized Talbot's earliest aspirations, and he could not willingly cede those privileges to a man who had never written half a dozen lines to deserve them. Yet Talbot was not a vain nor a selfish man: had Stratford been really gifted by nature with superior abilities to his own, he would have been quite satisfied that he should have reaped the harvest of them. But that Stratford should be distinguished at once by the notice of the gifted ones of earth, and by the smiles of Adelaide Linley, and that he might himself have been occupying that doubly enviable position, had he only kept in the simple path of truth, it was indeed a trial to the nerves and to the temper. At length,

one day, when the rivals were alone, the smouldering fire burst forth.

"I am very much surprised, Stratford," said Talbot, flattering himself that he was speaking in a remarkably cool, self-possessed tone, when in reality his cheeks were flushed with excitement, had his voice trembled with irritation "I am very much surprised that you can continue from day to day to enjoy literary celebrity to which you must feel that you have not the shadow of a claim."

Stratford did not return an angry answer to his friend; he was on the winning side, and successful people can always afford to be good tempered. "I do not see," he replied, "how I can possibly escape all the marks of kindness and distinction that are shown to me."

"Have you any wish to escape them?" asked Talbot, sneeringly.

"Before you reproach me," said Stratford, "I think you should remember at whose suggestion the deception was first entered into."

"I did not foresee the consequences," said Talbot. "Pardon me," said Stratford; "the consequences were foreseen by both of us. I remarked that I was unwilling to strut, like the jay, in borrowed plumes; and you replied, that if the Russian Brothers' attained

the greatest celebrity, you would never assert your rights of paternity."

"You certainly possess an excellent memory," said Talbot, sarcastically, "whatever other mental attributes you may be deficient in. I remember the promise of secrecy to which you allude, but no promise was made on your part; therefore, if you are inclined to descend from your usurped position, and give it up to the rightful owner, there is no cause why you should refrain from doing so."

"And can you really," asked Stratford, with surprise, "expect that I should expose myself to the censure and ridicule of society for the purpose of reinstating you in rights which you voluntarily made over to me?"

“I

Talbot paused some time before he replied. feel," he said, "that I have expected too much. I rescind my proposal. I will only require you to make known the truth under a strict promise of secrecy to one individual.”

"And that individual is Adelaide Linley, I conclude," said Stratford.

"It is," replied Talbot; "let Adelaide but know me as I really am, and I do not heed at least I will endeavor not to heed the opinion of the world; besides, Stratford, recollect that, if you marry Adelaide,

she must certainly find out the deception eventually; she can never believe that the fount of poetry has suddenly dried up within you; no doubt, indeed, she has already begun to wonder that you have not given vent to a woful sonnet made to your mistress's eyebrow.''

Stratford returned no answer, but the conversation left a deep impression on his mind; and he felt that it would indeed be the most honest and upright course that he could pursue, to confess the whole truth to Adelaide, and then silently to withdraw himself from the literary society of which he was so little calculated to be a member. Nor was this resolution of Stratford's so great a sacrifice as might be imagined; he had for some time felt himself very little at ease among his brilliant new associates; he was aware that he was only "cloth of frieze," although circumstances had for a time matched him with "cloth of gold." He could not respond to the literary quotations and allusions constantly made in his presence. He had heard some wonder expressed that he had no scraps in his portfolio to show confidentially to admiring friends; and the editor of a leading periodical had kindly suggested to him a subject for a tale in blank verse, which, if written at all in the style of the tragedy, should, he said, receive immediate attention from him. Then, in other circles, young ladies