he fancied he perceived points of difference between her and the animal he had been used to trot by so easily. The general appearance was the same, to be sure, but this one had a different manner about her, so to speak. 66 Why, this isn't the horse you've been driving for the last month ?" he says hotly. "Never said it was, sir," says the man, pleasantly. This is the celebrated Flying Fanny, as you may have heard of; it's an extraordinary likeness, and turns out very convenient sometimes. And I'll tell you what, Parson, the next time you trot with a horse you think you've beaten, make sure it's the real Sir Roger. Good night. I'm afraid you won't see me at church to-morrow." And whistling to his mare, he went off like a rocket. Tom saw that he had been fairly done, but he had learned before this to "pay up and look pleasant"; and, after the first moment of exasperation, his only fear was that the smart individual would boast of his success in the parish. But he knew that these gentry are not given to unnecessary confidences. So, turning Timothy round, he proceeded on his way to the place where his groom was waiting, wondering at his master's delay. The leader was harnessed; and, after a little restiveness and rearing, which was calmed down by Tom's light hand and by the groom walking by her side patting and coaxing, Firefly, as she had been christened, went off famously. The moon shone out, and the light evening breeze played on his face and freshened up Timothy, who had considerably settled down since his spin with the mare. Tom was doing what he had not done for years; and, as he let out his leader's reins to let her do the work for Timothy, and caught his whip into a scientific double thong, he felt as if nothing could occur to counterbalance his present happiness, and thought no more of his lost twenty pounds than if he had been a millionaire or a sailor on shore. Happy the man who can cast care behind him in this manner!—who can cry " Vogue la galère!" though the sky threaten dirty weather, and something very like a white squall comes creeping up on the horizon. An apposite simile; for before they had gone three miles, the evening changed to one of those thick-clouded, thunderous nights which sometimes precede a day of heavy rain; and unfortunately Tom, who seldom drove in the evenings, and had reckoned on being at his journey's end by that time, had brought no lamps. However, they went on as well as they could, by the dying twilight and the occasional gleams of the peeping moon, till they came to a cross-road. Here Tom and the groom had a short argument as to the way, which ended in the former taking half-a-crown from his pocket, and deciding between their opinions by the hand of Fate. They obeyed the oracle, and turned to the right; and when the next gleam of moonlight shone they found they were in a byroad totally unknown to them and half flooded. Here the groom gets out to lead the mare, who is a little fractious at the splashing water. In another minute Tom feels his feet suddenly invaded by a cold fluid, the man ejaculates an oath which ends in a splashing gurgle, and the mare and Timothy are struggling for bare life in the rushing waters of the little River Trym. To do the mare justice, she behaved splendidly after the first plunge, and although the gig was never meant for aquatic excursions, the stream, which, though a strong current, was nowhere up to the horses' necks, was crossed in safety. It was not until the pair stood dripping and blowing on the opposite side that Tom thought of the groom, when the following dialogue ensued: "Sa-a-a-m!" (very loud). "Hollo-o-o!" (distant and dismal). "Where are you?" "On an island, sir, half-drownded !" 66 Why don't you come on ?" "'Cause I can't swim, sir." "Well, I'll go on, and send back to you." It was a dismal drive that Tom had after that. He knew enough of the country to be able to tell in which direction to steer; but it was long before he found his way to a bridge, and driving a tandem along a strange road on a dark night is not a pleasant task, especially when one of your horses is almost tired out and the other a hot animal that will not stand the whip. If he touched Timothy to keep him awake the mare bounded forward at the sound of the lash, and he was in constant fear of coming against some obstacle in the obscurity. At last he heard a sheep-bell, and a little further on he fancied he could discern trees and a gate. Cautiously descending, after knotting the reins to the back of the seat, and holding the mare's head with one hand, he felt his way to the latch of the gate. To place it wide open, still holding the mare's head, was a task of some difficulty, and while so engaged the night cleared for a moment, and he could see he was on a very smooth and gravelly road between an avenue of trees. Keeping in the middle of this, he advanced until he struck his hat against a wooden surface, which he perceived to be a large door. Tom was overjoyed at having discovered a habitation at last, and began to thunder with hand and foot at the portal. No answer. He commenced another battery that might have waked the Seven Sleepers. Tom was puzzled. Had he fallen on a sort of deserted village? After a last attempt, which was as unsuccessful as the former, he sulkily mounted his dog-cart, and prepared to "try back." Now the mare, like all her sex, was very much irritated when dis appointed, and, having no doubt made up her mind to a good supper and bed after her labours, showed a determination not to start again. Tom, who was in no humour for nonsense, brought the whip at first lightly, then severely, across her loins. The mare bolted forward indignantly into a gallop, and before Tom could get her in hand he felt the off-wheel catch in something stationary, with a shock that tossed him out as neatly as a shuttlecock flies from a lively battledore. It was some time before he could collect his faculties sufficiently to discover that he had sprained his left ankle slightly, besides various contusions. He rose and tried to limp away, but found he had fallen into an oblong space, enclosed by what he made out by feeling with his hands to be a tall iron railing, so that like the worthy nephew of Gil Perez he was caught like a rat in a trap. After shouting until he was hoarse without effect, he determined to make the best of his position till morning, and before wrapping himself in the rugs which fortunately had been about his person when he fell, he felt in his coat-pocket for his sherry-flask, and drank as those only can drink who are nearly exhausted by work and worry. Then, seated on the smooth flooring of his singular prison, he patiently waited till morning should bring him some relief. The sherry was good; the night was warm and close; and despite the pain of his ankle and the hardness of his couch he fell in a quarter of an hour into a deep slumber. It was rather a surprise for the parishioners, when they assembled in the churchyard before service on the following morning, to find two horses, with every appearance of having freed themselves by force from the ruins of a dismantled dog-cart, and the pastor who was to have appealed to their charitable feelings that morning, peacefully slumbering, with an empty flask by his side, on the headstone which marked the spot "Sacred to the memory of Theodosia Huntingdon, aged 62 years." Tom has not again tried an ecclesiastical tandem; and if you ask him why he does not take an excursion with a leader now, he will most likely reply in the words of the Frenchman when they would have tempted him to a fox-hunt, “Jy ai été !” TEMPLE BAR. NOVEMBER 1873. Uncle John. By G. J. WHYTE-MELVILLE, AUTHOR OF 'KATE COVENTRY,' NOTHI CHAPTER IV. CHAMPAGNE-SWEET OR DRY? OTHING could induce Percy Mortimer to hurry himself. His dinner toilet would have been none the less elaborate had he known twenty people were waiting for him to begin their meal. Half an hour's law, however, was accorded, in consideration of the late arrivals; so he emerged from his room, very sleek and well dressed, to descend the wide staircase, with a few seconds' start of his friend, conscious that he had plenty of time. Following close on his steps Maxwell reached the landing as Mortimer crossed the hall, and looking down from that point of vantage was no less delighted than surprised to see his companion of the railway, statelier and handsomer than ever in her dinner dress, stop short on her way to the drawing-room, and accost the traveller with considerable cordiality. "Good Heavens! Mrs. Delancy!" said Percy, as they shook hands. "Who would have thought of finding you here?" "Hush! Mr. Mortimer," she replied; "not Mrs. Delancy in this house. Perhaps-perhaps-you had better not seem to know me at all." And with a scared look at Maxwell, as if aware that he had overheard her, she turned very pale, and passed on. Imperturbable Percy followed into the drawing-room without moving a muscle of his countenance, but Maxwell made rather a preoccupied bow to his hostess, and took refuge in the general depression that overhangs an assemblage of people waiting for dinner, to recover his wits a little, and get the better of his surprise. VOL. XXXIX. 2 F The important meal being announced almost immediately, and Aunt Emily marshalling her guests with the skill of a practised tactician, he was roused from his meditations by word of command. "Mr. Maxwell, please to take Miss Blair." 66 Looking in vain for that lady, he was completely mystified to find his fellow-traveller waiting to place her hand within his arm. How can she be Miss Blair if she's Mrs. Delancy?" thought Horace. "He said 'Mrs. Delancy,' I could take my oath. What does it all mean ?" determined to Like a wise man he pulled himself together, and await the lady's explanation, or to have none at all. She certainly was very handsome, seen en profile, as she arranged herself at the dinner-table; very classical, and well-dressed. He stole a look at her left hand, but could not make out if she wore a wedding-ring; yet his friend called her "Mrs. Delancy," not "Miss," he was sure. The soup passed off without a word, but before they brought him lobster sauce for his turbot she turned round, and in a low voice observed: "I told you it was only the mountains that never came together. I had not an idea then that we were to meet this evening. I don't think I half thanked you for your kindness when I got out of the train. Thank you, now. I'd stand up and make a courtesy if we were not at dinner. But I mean it; you were most attentive and polite." "You must have thought me a great bore when I forced my way into your carriage," said he, beginning to feel that he had taken a liberty. "But the train was full-the guard hustled me in at the last moment, and there was nothing for it but to intrude on you or be left behind." "I am glad you were not left behind," she answered, "particularly on my account, and I am sure you did everything in your power to find another place. I never saw so scared a face as yours when you passed along the train on your way from the book-stall. I felt quite sorry for you-ordered helplessly into my carriage, whether you would The tone convinced him that she had detected, and was not displeased by, his admiration at first sight. It emboldened him to embark on a flirtation without delay. "I am very grateful to the guard," he said. "I own I did linger at the door of the carriage you were in, with some faint hope my luck might land me there for the whole journey. I trust you are not displeased at the confession." Horace had a great idea of "making running from the start," as he called it. She replied rather coldly: "There is nothing to please or displease me in the matter; but |