-the growth of the world's wealth implies the rising prosperity of all. Whether we possess much or little funded property, we share in the higher social development of our time. Measured by a fixed income, we may seem poorer, as millionaires increase and dividends diminish. Still, millionaires benefit mankind more than themselves. In their search for new millions, they lead to universal enrichment; in themselves attaining leisure, they win it for others. They are ranged on the side of peace and good-will among men; and however greedy of wealth personally, are allied with the practical moralists of the age. The ministers and servants of economy, they throw down the ramparts erected by barbarism against the intellectual and ethical progress of our species, and proclaim the fraternity of mankind. They drag the savage from his cave and make him share in the gains of civilisation; they lift the felon from his lair and bid him toil at honest work; they bid labour economise its capital, and place it in the general reservoir of wealth, thereby to share yet more largely in the triumphs of trade. Thus war, pestilence, and famine disappear, and peace, health, and plenty prevail. By the resistless progress of economy and industry, much that is repellent in Man and in Nature is eliminated, and that which is beneficent is multiplied.

VALENTINE STRANGE.

A STORY OF THE PRIMROSE WAY.

BY DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAY.

words was such a compound of craft and mirth and malice as Hiram had never seen before. The younger man nodded with an answering smile, and for half a minute the two sat thus looking at each other, the cashier smiling-as Hiram said long afterwards in telling the story-like an octopus,' and the other beaming back at him. This is quite an agreeable meeting,' said Garling, darkening suddenly. He went on abruptly: You have an object to achieve, and so have I. It is in your power to put me to much inconvenience-inconvenience to which I would not voluntarily submit-I am quite candid, you observe-for a thousand pounds. But on the other hand it is in my power to inflict upon you, by submitting to that inconvenience, a disappointment which would, I presume, be considerable. You admit that?'

'Yes,' returned Hiram; 'I admit that.' A waiter with weak eyes, disorganised hair, and a dissipated-looking suit of evening clothes, here entered. The waiter's garb had the look-common to dress-clothes worn in the daytime-of having been up all night; but the waiter himself had a contradictory appearance of having only just got out of bed.

'Did you ring, gentlemen?' inquired the waiter forlornly.

'We did not,' said Garling, resuming his smile. 'I suppose we ought to have done so.-May I offer you any little refreshment, son-in-law? A little brandy? A glass of wine ?-No?-I will take a little brandy, waiter, pale and cold.'

'Bring me a cigar,' said Hiram; and the waiter

WITH YOUR FATHER.'

'AND so,' said Garling, as he and Hiram walked together, 'you have the whip-hand of me?' "That,' said Hiram with great gravity, 'is

so.'

'I am not accustomed to harness,' observed Garling with his own grim smile, ‘and you will make little progress by driving me too hard. Before we go farther, I have something to say. Shall we talk here? We can have quiet.' He pointed to a court upon the left hand; and without waiting for an answer, led the way, passing through a low-browed door with a sunken step, along a saw-dusted passage, and into a room the atmosphere of which was dense with stale tobaccosmoke. Seating himself at a battered and discoloured little circular table, he motioned Hiram to follow his example. By this time, Garling was as cool and self-possessed as ever, and his was simply business-like. And now, Mr Search-that is your name, I believe-before you drive me farther, I must have a little talk with you.'

manner

'Well,' returned Hiram, 'theer's biblical precedent. Daresay you remember Balaam. Go ahead, sir.'

'You are in good spirits,' said Garling quite agreeably. That is natural. But the best players are those whose spirits neither mount with gains nor fall at losses. Forgive me if I seem to lecture you; but since we are to hold a relationship so close as that of father and son, I can scarcely fail to feel a little proprietary right in you.' The smile with which Garling accompanied these

it a relief to be laid.-'I admit that,' said Hiram again, nodding across the table, as a hint to Garling to go on.

"Now, I am naturally a stubborn man, Mr Search,' said the cashier resuming, and I have a great dislike to being driven. You observe If I should find that I am candid with you? myself being driven too hard, I should probably kick over the traces. Now, that would be quite a melancholy thing for both of us. You would fulfil your threat; I should put my power into action; we should each be injured irreparably, and at daggers-drawn for the rest of our lives.'

'It is a theme,' said Hiram, 'for one of the gentlemen who paint your coats of arms. Balaam right, quadruped left, and each with a drawn dagger. He said this musingly, eyeing Garling meanwhile with pleased contentment.

'You are pleased to be facetious,' said the cashier, looking at him from under beetling brows, but smiling still. So, in prize-ring matters, the Putney Chicken and Hammersmith Pet were wont to smile on each other, each with wicked patience waiting for his chance to plant a blow. The waiter came in at this juncture, ghost-like, and being again laid by the magic of a halfcrown, fluttered off again, and once more made an appearance, and having, like the ghosts in legendary story, surrendered treasure, vanished finally. 'You see, Mr Search,' said Garling, sipping at his brandy-and-water, 'that it will be unwise to drive too hard.'

'I am not particular about the pace,' said Hiram, biting off the end of his cigar, and looking complacently at his companion; but I am bent on going all the way.-But come now, mister.

Journal

We can get along without being so lovely figurative, I reckon. Move on, and say straight out what you want.' 'I will admit you,' said Garling, 'to visit my daughter at any reasonable hours at which she cares to see you. If her mind is set upon it, I shall throw no obstacle in the way of your union.' 'That's very good of you,' said Hiram drily. 'Not at all,' returned Garling with superior dryness. So far, I am driven. At present, Mr Search, my daughter informs me-for I need no longer disguise from you the fact that I have talked with her upon this topic-that your Occupation is that of a 'bus conductor. Permit me to indicate that I shall take a good deal of driving before I consent to allow my only child to marry a man who occupies such a position. Understand, sir. I am to some extent in your power. To a certain extent-understand me clearly-you can force me. Beyond that line, I will not go. You shall have free access to my daughter's society at reasonable times and in my presence. I shall place no impediment in the way of your ultimate union. But before that can come about, your social position must be much improved. If you accede to my terms, I shall not be unwilling to assist you in the effort to improve it. I do not think you can care to demand more than this at present; and I warn you that I will not yield a point beyond.' There he paused, sipped his brandy-and-water with a keen and secret glance at Hiram's face, and throwing one leg across the other, awaited a reply.

Hiram for his part pulled placidly at his cigar, and turned things over in his mind a little before he answered. 'Good,' he said at length-good, in all respects bar one. We air so amiable and loving-tempered both of us, that you don't mind my being candid. Two is company-three ain't.'

'When you have tried my plan,' said Garling, your power will be no less than it is now. Be content with what you have. Let me have the satisfaction of knowing that I retire gracefully.' 'Cupid,' said Hiram, looking at him musingly, is really not a part that you'd look pretty in. No, sir; it is not a character to suit your style.' Garling accepted this uncomplimentary statement without any change of countenance or sign of displeasure. Let me have a day or two in which to think that matter over, Mr Search.' That was all he said. There was no denying that he took defeat pluckily, and Hiram began to admire his courage and endurance.

Mister,' he returned, 'I have trapped a good many critters of different sorts in various regions; but I never trapped a man afore. Most of the critters raved a good deal, and took it wild; some of 'em took it sulky. Now, you take it like a man, and I esteem you for it-I do. And I shall meet you fair, in consekence. Pro tempore, as we say in the Classics, the arrangement you suggest will fit the present-speaking Christian, easy. I've got my turn to serve; but I don't care about doin' more than serve it, and 80 I'll close with this remark-I shan't ride rusty so long as you go easy. But try to slip, try one dodge, and I am down, sir, like a fifty-ton steam Nasmyth hammer on an unprotected bull-frog! you know.'

Now

'Having arrived at that pleasant mutual understanding,' said the cashier calmly, 'we may part for the present, I presume.'

'Not yet,' returned Hiram. 'We'll go a piece up Fleet Street, if you please.'

The cashier assenting with a shrug of the shoulders, arose and left the room, and Hiram followed. In this order they traversed Ludgate Hill and Fleet Street, the cashier going foremost with bent head and hands folded behind him, looking unconscious of the figure in his rear; and Hiram with his head in the air, sucking smilingly at his cigar, coming on at an easy saunter, as though he had never seen Garling in his life before. Drawing near his own residence, the leader produced his keys, and having unlocked the door, admitted his companion. 'I forgot to mention one thing, Mr Search,' he said, as they stood together at the foot of the stairs. 'My daughter must necessarily know the arrangement we have come to; but she must not know why we have arrived at it. Any hint on your part that you have any control over me, will dissolve our bargain, and I will take the consequences. You understand me?' 'Yes.'

'And you agree?' 'Certainly.'

'You will respect all my private affairs so far as she is concerned?'

'I will,' said Hiram simply.

The cashier moved on again, and selecting a new key, unlocked the door at the head of the stairs. As he did so, a smile, against which he had fought his hardest for the last five minutes, broke out in his eyes and wreathed his features -a smile so cunning, so triumphant, and diabolical, that if his companion had seen it, he would surely have found a warning in it. He did not see it; but as Garling feigned to fumble at the lock, in order to make time to smooth his face, Hiram laid a hand upon his shoulder. another part of the bargain,' he said severely— 'I won't have her kept a prisoner.'

'Here's

'There is no longer any need,' answered Garling, throwing open the door. His face was calm again, but there was still a light of triumph in his eyes which made him fear to show them. As he lifted his face momentarily on entering the room, his daughter saw upon it that new look, and for a moment wondered. But she had little time or inclination to question it; for there-wonder of wonders-at this cruel father's heels came Hiram, her hero, her lover, her man of men! Was the cruel father a good father, after all? She took one hurried step towards her lover, and her pale cheek flushed and her bosom heaved. Then she stood still, with her hands a little stretched towards him; and Hiram, coming boldly in, took her in his arms and kissed her, and laid her poor pale little face against his waistcoat, whilst she cried for joy. Beholding this, Garling walked to the window, as if he would not willingly be too much in the way. O Hiram, travelled citizen, 'cutest of omnibus conductors, cool and cunning and brave, you will have need of cunning and of swiftness to overreach the owner of the crafty eyes that look out on Fleet Street whilst you pet your innocent treasure and make much of her!

Be wary, Hiram! And you too, Garling, swift of mental fence, triumphing-be you wary, lest, in an hour you know not, the solid way before you shake, and yawn and ingulf you. Crimebuilt castles are unsteadfast, Garling. Beware your ears, should the flawless walls come down at a run, as walls so built are like to do. No; Garling has no fears.

Mary, withdrawing herself shyly from Hiram's arms, looked from one to another of this curiously assorted pair, her father and her sweetheart, in a palpitating, happy, yet half-fearful wonder. Garling still looking out of the window, hiding his smile, Hiram answered her glances, and said: 'My dear, I have had a talk with your father. He is willing to allow me to wait on you, and he promises not to throw anything between

us

'It is out of the question,' broke in Garling smoothly, speaking with his face turned to the window, 'that Mr Search should dream of marriage whilst occupying his present position. I shall find something for him to do, however, I daresay, and in that I may perhaps have to rely upon your assistance, Mary. The smile flashed out again exultant as he said this; but by a great effort, he suppressed it, and turned upon them both his ordinary face of down-looking secrecy, 'In the meantime, it is enough to say that I withdraw my opposition to Mr Search, and that I leave you and him to settle matters between you. With this understanding-That nothing shall be hidden, but all clear, honourable, and above-board.' He looked a singular advocate for openness of conduct, as he stood there with his furtive hands behind him, and his secret eyes in ambush beneath his beetling brows; but Mary had no suspicion of him; and Hiram, though he thought he knew his man pretty fairly, held him in his power, and could always shake his knowledge over him. In a little while Garling drew out his watch, and remarking that he had business to attend to, arose, with a meaning look towards Hiram, who, not being anxious to disturb the seeming concord or to assert his power too soon, rose also, and after a tender farewell, departed with his host.

'You will write to me?' Mary whispered, following to the door.

"Yes, my darling-yes,' said Hiram, and was gone. The girl stayed behind happy, and Hiram walked away happy, at the new condition of

affairs.

Garling went his way, triumphant. 'Had this happened six months ago, it might have cost some trouble,' he thought as he went along with his head bent and his hands clasped behind him. 'Had it happened a month back, it might have inclined me to hurry. But happening now, when everything is ready, it comes as a little welcome excitement, and keeps one from thinking too much of other matters. And you have the whiphand over me, have you, Mr Search? It was not worth while to give the fellow into custody; the affair might have got into the papers a day too soon. As it is, I have had my sport and gained my point into the bargain. Did you never trap a man before this, my astute American friend? Look at your trap next week.-I played him well,' he thought smilingly. 'It was high-comedy. I take some credit for the gravity of my yielding,

the solemn bargaining of the capitulation.-I declare, Garling,' he told himself in secret exultation, you have a sense of humour even yet. And that ignoramus thought to harness me! Tcha!' he snarled aloud, in vast contempt, and walked on, respected-many a City clerk looking reverently at the great manager, many a City magnate owning to himself: 'A clever fellow that. Close, but a jewel!'

'Mr Lumby is waiting in his room, sir,' said a clerk as the cashier passed through the offices.

'No, sir,' said another; 'he left five minutes ago.'

"Ah!' said Garling, throwing the words across his shoulder as he walked, 'I shall be here if he returns!'

Mr Lumby did not return; and the cashier sat among his papers, and did his work deftly, with wonderful rapidity and accuracy in combination. Practice, says the adage, makes perfect. That is partly true even of dull men; but given a genius for the thing practised, and it comes true literally. Four or five different sorts of men have I seen at work, and wondered. The keen sub-editor skimming with eagle flight his daily papers: mark him-scissors in hand he sits, and his eye has gripped a page ere you have read the title-line on the first column. Nothing there, and over goes the leaf. Ah, here! In goes the point of the scissors, out comes the destined scrap, and the page is turned again. And, in brief, before you or I had fairly handled half a page with certainty, he has run through a dozen daily journals, missing nothing, but has skimmed the cream from each and all. This is the result of practice and a curious and rare talent. Ask any sub-editor how rare it is. Or see an able physician approaching a case over which commonplace men have been puzzled, and watch him as he lays his finger on the cause of ill. Or see a great barrister with a brief in hand, a brief of which he knows nothing, but from which he must construct a case in one hour's time to carry before judge and jury. You would say he absorbs and mentally assimilates the contents of a folio by touch, rather than that he reads it. Yet swiftly as he goes, he masters it; and in court, one brief hour hence, you might think him familiar with the complicated case from infancy. Or once again, see a young artist struggling to draw some impossible bit of fore-shortening, and then see finished genius take the brushes. All these things are here named to typify Garling at his business. a tangle-his hand unravelled it. Anything wrong-his eye detected it. 'Here is the flaw.' The great piles of correspondence and sheets of figures to be examined melted before him. The piles examined grew and grew. It was a terrible pity that he was a scoundrel. It is related that a Greek father took his son to a merchant and proudly introduced him as 'the greatest liar in the Levant.' And the chronicler adds that the merchant accepted of the youth's service with tears of joy. But in the West we have got into a habit of regarding probity as a business essential In all but honesty, Garling was a very pearl among business men. But what a 'but!'

Came

The night came. He could count the nights now for which it would be essential to remain for the completion of his plans. They were

growing few, and in spite of the man's colossal composure, were growing terrible to endure. For it was not yet too late to restore all, and be honest, and yet well-to-do, and Conscience whispered sometimes that life would be sweeter 80. It was no vulgar crime that he had planned, as it was no vulgar criminal who planned it. Here, for now nine years, had he worked patiently and gently, unloosening every here and there with subtlest fingers a tie which held complete control from him, and gradually drawing every string of the vast concern into his own hands. Then feeding his own resources slowly from those of the firm, and if needful, feeding the firm again from the fund thus fraudulently acquired, swelling his wicked gains year by year, and always fending off the crash to make his gains the larger; he had played his game so long that at last everything was his, and the great House of Lumby and Lumby was a bubble which would burst so soon as he shook it from his finger. There was nothing more to be got; the egg was sucked dry, the nut scraped clean out of the shell; and he waited merely for the transfer of his own legally acquired belongings to Spain, the swindler's refuge.

strewed

Now, as the time drew near, he adopted any precaution, no matter how ridiculous it seemed, that occurred to him; and on this night he took a little packet of cigar-ash from his purse, and tiny pinch on the top of every one of those gigantic ledgers in which his secret slept. His fears had grown so morbid that he had to arm himself anew, as it were, at every_crevice of the armour he had worn so long. Even as he did this, he sneered at himself, and mocked the fears which prompted him. And yet,' he muttered, why should I be so infatuated as to miss any precaution I can think of. The books are not likely to be moved; but if they should be, I shall know it now.'

THE KYRLE SOCIETY. SOME one has rightly defined the present century as an Age of Societies. The world is full of them. Not only are there national Societies, political Societies, secret Societies; Societies religious, scientific, and archæological; in addition to these, the chronicles of the nineteenth century will reveal to the historian of the future a multitude of lesser Societies which honeycomb the entire fabric of domestic life in our times. It seems as though we were all taking to heart at last the old fable of the bundle of sticks; and so, whether people wish to be charitable or temperate, or learned or philanthropic, they make the effort gregariously, conscious of the value of a long pull, and a strong pull, and a pull all together.'

Among the many Brobdingnagian associations of the world at large, and the countless Lilliputian ches set on foot in private circles, a Society of recent date is beginning to lift its modest head and claim our special attention. We refer to the Kyrle Society.

There was once a kindly philanthropist named John Kyrle, who some two centuries ago spent his slender estate in benefiting and beautifying his native town of Whitehouse, in Gloucestershire, and has thus earned for himself the title of the

Howard of his age.' Very little else is known of him, except that he died at a ripe old age at Ross, in Herefordshire, where his estate lay, and where he also busied himself in making his surroundings beautiful. The world is apt to forget its benefactors; and but that Pope has immortalised John Kyrle as the 'Man of Ross,' the very name of this insignificant philanthropist might have passed into oblivion. He certainly could never have foreseen that it would be revived after a lapse of nearly two hundred years, and chosen to designate a Society enrolling men of note among the members banded together to follow in his footsteps.

The aim of the Kyrle Society is ambitious, being, as we shall see, no less than 'bringing beauty home to the people;' but its simple motto promises only, "To the utmost of our power.' The multitude may at the first glance pronounce its object Quixotic. Indeed, Punch, that good-natured censor of the age, has already talked about bringing beauty home to the pantry,' and caricatured for us a member of the Kyrle Society distributing peacocks' feathers, ox-eyed daisies, and tiger-lilies at a Domestic Economy Congress! But ridicule notwithstanding, no one familiarly acquainted with London and other great cities can doubt that the work of the Kyrle Society is needed. To think that human beings, fellow-countrymen fashioned in the same mould as ourselves, should be born and reared in the midst of ugliness and squalor, just supporting life indeed like the beasts that perish, but with never a sight nor a thought of those things which make life worth living!

There is a great talk in these days of beauty and high-art and all the rest of it, a great ministering to the fastidious tastes of the upper classes. Shall not those who daily revel in the enjoyment of sights and sounds of beauty, have some compassion for the eyes which never rest upon tree or flower nor any of the lovely things of this beautiful world, but only upon gray dinginess and squalid misery? Shall we not take some thought for the tired ears upon which no soothing melody of voice or instrument ever falls, only a discord of street cries and harsh quarrels? Shall we not feel some sympathy for the souls that are never stirred to nobler thoughts with nothing around them in the hours of toil, by contact with any loveliness of art or nature, or in the hours of leisure, to create an image of beauty even in their dreams?

"Beauty is God's handiwork,' once wrote Charles Kingsley. Welcome it in every fair face, every fair sky, every fair flower, and thank for it Him the fountain of all loveliness, and drink it in simply and earnestly with all your eyes-it is a charmed draught, a cup of blessing.' How, then, would Kingsley have welcomed the institution of this Kyrle Society, which takes for its avowed object the bringing beauty home to the people the people living in the outer darkness of squalor and unloveliness, whom he yearned to refresh with the 'charmed draught' so sweet to himself!

There are four especial ways in which the Society tries to disperse more widely the refining influences of natural and artistic beauty. (1) It proposes to decorate workmen's clubs, hospital wards, workhouses, &c., with gifts of flowers, mural paintings, pictures, and other artistic

objects likely to please the eyes of their occupants. It carries out this programme without bigotry; for the decorations are made in public meeting-rooms used for either social or religious gatherings, without distinction of creed, in a wise spirit of tolerance worthy of the times. (2) It desires to encourage in poorer houses the window-gardening which in London at all events seems to be a luxury reserved for the rich, and to turn to account for cultivation as gardens all strips of waste ground, and even areas and backyards. (3) It undertakes also the difficult task of providing concerts of good and attractive music in the poorest parts of London by the help of voluntary choirs, using for the purpose any churches, halls, or schoolrooms that may be available. Musical treats of this kind have already been given in some of the metropolitan hospitals and workhouses. (4) Last, but not least, the grandest efforts of the Society are given to preserving open spaces both in town and country to be laid out as public gardens. It co-operates in this branch of its work with both the National Health and Commons Preservation Societies: for all alike feel the importance of securing breathing-space for the lungs choked by the smoke and dust of the working world of London and other great cities. It is hoped that in time some of the long-disused churchyards of the Metropolis may be devoted to the same purpose; for how could the abode of the dead-well-named God's-acre be turned to better account than for the benefit of the living?

Already in the four or five short years of its existence, the Society has worked zealously in each of these departments, not in London alone, but in Nottingham, Liverpool, and Westbury also; while infant Societies of the same kind have been started at Birmingham, Birkenhead, and Leicester. A Society with similar aims, known as the Cockburn Society, has long existed in the Scottish capital.

The Kyrle Society was instrumental in saving for the public the green time-hallowed shades of Burnham Beeches; and it is continually taking energetic steps to abate the smoke arising from private and factory fires, which is such an active agent in defacing our public buildings. London streets will never be paved with gold, as our childish fancies led us to expect; but the successors of John Kyrle in the task of benefiting humanity may win back for it some of its ancient charms, when soot and smoke are abolished, and the atmosphere is partially purified.

Royalty countenances the efforts of these nineteenth-century philanthropists. The Duke of Albany-who, more than any other of the Queen's sons, seems to have inherited his father's tastes-is the President of the Kyrle Society; the Princess Louise is Vice-President; and many another noble name distinguished in the world of art or in the world of philanthropy swells the list of those who give it their support.

The Society is in need of funds; but it needs something else quite as much-the active help and sympathy which even the humblest can afford to give. The horizon of usefulness before it widens day by day; its aid flows out in everdiverging channels. We should mention that any one sympathising with the objects of the

Society, and desirous to promote its work, may become enrolled upon the list of members upon applying to the Honorary Secretary, whose address is 14 Nottingham Place, London, N.W.

Poverty, as we must all own, need not of necessity be squalid. Cross the Channel, and take a look at the continental towns and cities. There the life of the lower classes has its picturesque side; the result, or possibly the cause of a natural taste for the beautiful being developed even in the poorest peasant. The fisher-girls upon the opposite coast deck their persons as well as their houses, and go about their daily tasks unconscious models for the artist. The bluebloused peasant working in the fields must supply his bit of colour to complete the landscape; and the bourgeois condemned to town-life, would not suffer about him the sad-coloured houses and sober surroundings which we allow under our gray skies. What a host of stored-up pictures crowd into the mind, as memory fills in the pleasant background of a poor man's life abroad! Even the lazy lazzaroni who lounge through life under. Italian skies, ask their alms upon palacesteps, amid the plash of fountains and the scent of orange-groves! But what a revolting contrast presents itself when we think of a poor man's life at home in Seven Dials or similar slums, the Augean stables of civilisation, whose cleansing and beautifying must needs prove a Herculean task!

And sight is not the only sense gratified upon the other side of the Channel. The ear is pleased as well as the eye. Open-air concerts are put within reach of the people at a mere nominal cost, or at no cost at all. The German imbibes with his beer a refreshing draught of music, which elevates him above the mere sensual enjoyment of the moment. The mountaineer jödels his way cheerily from Alp to Alp, and peasant-voices everywhere lend themselves almost unconsciously to a 'concord of sweet sounds,' which makes the wheel of life revolve smoothly and harmoniously.

Surely we islanders may in many respects take a hint from our neighbours on the continent, and remember that we are not doing our duty by our fellow-creatures if we only give them the opportunity of earning material sustenance by their toilsome labour.

"Tis not the whole of life to live!

Let us give them the wherewithal to build themselves 'nests of pleasant thoughts,' as Ruskin puts it. Let us, to the utmost of our power, foster the higher life of the spirit, and refresh the dulled ears and aching eyes of our working-classes for their never-ending struggles with the briers and thorns of this workaday world,' by a communion, whenever it is possible, with whatsoever things are pure and lovely and of good report.

OUR FRENCH PROFESSOR.

CHAPTER I.

WHEN I was a youngster, working my way up the academical ladder, I was engaged as mathematical master in the school-called Wimbourne Hall-of a certain Dr Walters. It was in a remote part of the country, and I should perhaps have found the place dull, but for the company of a niece of the Doctor's-the sweetest girl, I