proud as she is—she is not only friendly to you—but to my notion, a little more than friendly.' "Eh-think you so?" cried Mozart, rubbing his hands with glee-for much as he honored and loved his wife, he did not disdain now and then a little flirtation. Guardasoni innocently went on. "As I tell you; for the other day she said to me herself, 'I could fall in love with the Signor Amadeo; for I look upon him as a great man, and should not mind his insignificant figure.' The master was crest-fallen! It vexed him not a little that the fair Saporitti should have spoken of his insignificant figure, especially to such a tall man as Guardasoni. "Call them all together, Signor Guardasoni," said he, without pursuing the subject; "and I will read them the text they are to sing." Guardasoni took his leave, and next day assembled all the singers in the green-room of the theatre. Mozart entered, dressed in rich sables, a gold-laced hat on his head, and the director's staff in his hand. He ascended a small platform, and began his address; at first, in a formal and solemn man ner, but gradually becoming familiar and humorous, for he never could belie his harmless character. VI....Mozart's Speech. "Most honored Ladies and Gentlemen, "It is known to you that some years ago I received from your impressario, Signor Guardasoni, the flattering commission to compose an opera for his company; I undertook the task more readily, as I had the honor of knowing you all, and the satisfaction of being convinced I was laboring for true artists. "My work is finished; ' Don Giovanni—ossia, il dissoluto punito.' I assure you I have honestly and carefully studied the peculiar character of each of the honored members of Guardasoni's present company, having peculiar regard to them in the parts of an opera. I have thus succeeded in composing a work, which forms not only in itself a harmonious whole, but in each separate part promises the artist for whom it was intended, the fairest success-an opera, which I believe will please even in future times, which will be perhaps pronounced my best work, as I myself esteem it such! But one thing I know-that a representation so perfect, as I hope for it through you, can never be procured hereafter. "Where could we find a Don Giovanni like my young friend Luigi Bassi? His noble figure, his wonderful voice, his manner, his wit, his unstudied fire, when he bends in homage to beauty-eminently qualify him for the hero of my opera. "Could I point out for him a more perfect Donna Anna than the beautiful, stately, virtuous Saporitti? All conflicting feelings of sympathy-revenge-love-hate, she will depict in song and in action, as I conceived them when I composed the work. "And who could represent the faithful, delicate, resentful, yet ever-forgiving, ever-loving Elvira, more consummately She is Don than the charming, gentle Caterina Micelli ? Giovanni's warning angel, forsaking him only in the last moment. Ah! such an Angel should convert me, for I also am a great sinner, spite of my insignificant figure! And now for the little, impatient, mischievous, inexperienced, and curi ous Zerlina "Oh!-la ci darem la mano-Signorella Bondini! Sweet little one-you are too tempting! and if my stanzerl were to sing her vedrai carino' to me like you-by Jupiter-it were all over with me! "That the good Felice Ponziani is satisfied with his Leporello, and the excellent Antonio Baglioni with his Don Ottavio, rejoices my very heart. Signor Giuseppe Lolli has, out of friendship to me, undertaken the part of Masetto-for he would have all the parts well performed. I have thanked him for his kind attention. "And thus I close my speech so meet- The master ended his speech; his audience clapped approbation; and they separated in mutual good humor. V II....The Rehearsal. On the 28th of October, "Don Giovanni" being complete except the overture, the rehearsals began. On the morning of the 1st, before Mozart went to the Opera House, he walked for recreation in the public garden. Before him he saw the well-known figure of the trumpeter Nepomuck Stradetzky, absorbed, as it seemed, in meditation. Mozart walked faster, overtook, and tapped him gently on the shoulder. Nepomuck turned quickly, growling out, "Ha!-what do you want?" but bowed almost to the ground as he recognised the master, saying, "I beg a thousand pardons, worthy Herr von Mozart! I was deep in thought-I beg your pardon!" "For what?" replied Mozart. Nobody is pleased at being disturbed in a revery-not I—at least. But what were you thinking about, Herr von Stradetzky?" Nepomuck answered with a clear brow, "Ay! of what but Is not your opera, most excellent Herr von Mozart? Prague full of expectation? Wherever I go I am asked, 'Herr von Nepomuck, when is the first representation ?You play the tenor-trumpet-eh?-Herr von Nepomuck?' "No,' I answer, 'the bass-trumpet.' "So, so,' they say, 'the bass-trumpet-eh!-Herr von Nepomuck?'" "Have you tried you notes, Herr von Nepomuck?' "Yes, indeed, Herr von Mozart, and am delighted with the long, full tones; but in both choral songs are a few deuced hard notes." "Pah! you will get through with them, Herr von Neromuck?" "I hope so, Herr von Mozart; and will do my best." They walked a little longer, chatting in the shaded avenue, then went to the theatre. The rehearsal began. Mozart was every where; now in the orchestra-now on the stage. In the ball-scene of the first act, where Bassi did not dance to please him, he himself joined the circle, and danced a minuet with Zerlina with so much grace, that he did all credit to his master Noverre. So by a bold stroke he amended the shriek of Zerlina, which after repeated "Da Capos" did not suit him. Creeping behind her at the moment she was about to repeat the cry for the fourth time, he suddenly seized her with such violence that, really frightened, she screamed in good earnest; whereupon he cried, laughing, "Bravo! that is what I want-you must shriek thus at the representation." "Da The good humored little Bondini forgave him her fright; but an instruction in the second act was not so well received. Here, in the church-yard scene, to strengthen the effect of both adagios, which the statue has to sing, he had placed the three trumpeters behind the monument. In the second adagio, the trumpeters blew wrong: Mozart cried, Capo!" it was repeated, and this time the bass only failed.The master went to the desk, and patiently showed Nepomuck how he wanted the notes played; but even after the third repetition he made the same blunder. "What, the mischief, Stradetzky!" cried Mozart, with you must play correctly!" vexation, and stamping his foot, “ Nepomuck, offended, grumbled out, " Herr von Stradetzky is my name, and I play what it is possible to play with the trumpet! What you have written there the devil himself could not play!' "No, in truth!" said Mozart, gently; "and if what I have written suits not the instrument, I must by all means alter it." He did so, and added to the original both bassoons as well as two counter-bases. Finally, he let the chorus of furies sing under the scene, and would not permit the demons visibly to drag Don Giovanni into the abyss. "He is man enough not to let the devil call in vain," observed he, lauhging. With this the rehearsal ended. As the master went home from the theatre, Nepomuck Stradetzky came behind him, took hold of the skirt of his coat, and said earnestly, "Do not be angry with me, Herr von Mozart, for being a little bearish! That is often my way, and you know I mean well." Mozart replied cordially, "Nay, Herr von Nepomuck, I ought to be grateful to you for having pointed out to me my error in the notes for the trumpet. Yet, 't is true, faults may be told pleasantly. Well! in future we will observe more courtesy." Nepomuck promised, and they parted in friendship. VIII....The Overture. The day appointed for the first representation of "Don Giovanni," the 3d of November, was just at hand, and Mozart had never yet written the overture! Guardasoni urged-his friends advised-Mozart only laughed, and said, "I will write it this afternoon!" That afternoon he went on an excursion of pleasure with his wife. Guardasoni was in despair. He sent messengers to the four quarters of the heavens-Mozart was no where to be found, and Strobach was obliged to promise, that in case of extreme necessity, he would use the overture to "Idomeneo." STANLEY THORN.* BY THE AUTHOR OF VALENTINE VOx.' CHAPTER XX.... Describes the performance of a Phaetonic feat, which brings Bob into temporary trouble. At the appointed hour the following morning Stanley called upon Sir William, with a view to an arrangement of their books; and the result proved that Stanley had lost to Sir Foxe two thousand eight hundred. This to Stanley was a William about four thousand pounds, and had won of Major most unsatisfactory result. He, of course, knew before that It was midnight when Mozart's carriage stopped before his he had lost; but he had certainly no idea of being a loser to dwelling; and his friends, Guardasoni at their head, surround- the extent of twelve hundred pounds. He, however, appeared ed him immediately with complaints and reproaches. The to care as little as possible about it; and when the honorable master sprang out of the carriage, crying, "Leave me to my-he entreated him not to feel at all annoyed at that circumBaronet expressed his sorrow at having won so much of him, self! now I will go to work in earnest.' He went into the house, shut the door behind him, threw himself on his seat at the writing table, and began. In a few minutes, however, he started up, and in a laughing manner said to his wife, "I will not go yet! I will go to bed for an hour; wake me up in that time, and make me some punch." And without undressing he flung himself on the bed. Constance prepared the punch, and in an hour's time went to awaken her hus. band; but he slept so sweetly, she could not find it in her heart to disturb him. She let him lie another hour; then, as time pressed, she awakened him. Mozart rubbed his eyes, shook himself, collected his thoughts, and without further ado, began his work. Constance gave him the punch, seated herself by him, and to keep him in good spirits, began to tell him all manner of funny and horrible stories of the Princefish, Bluebeard, &c., till Mozart, still writing, laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. At two in the morning he began his wonderful work; at six it lay on the desk finished. The master arose; he could hardly stand upright. "Done for this time!" he muttered; "but I shall not soon try it again!" and he laid himself down again to sleep. At seven the copyist came for the notes; but could not finish writing them out before half-past seven in the evening, so that the performance was postponed to eight o'clock. Still wet and covered with sand, the hastily-copied parts were brought in and arranged in the orchestra. IX....Conclusion. The strange story of the composition of the overture soon spread among the audience. When Mozart came into the orchestra, he was greeted with thundering "bravos" from an overflowing house. He bowed low, and turning to the per formers in the orchestra, said, 'Gentlemen, we have not been able to have a rehearsal of the overture; but I know what I can venture with you. So quick-to the work!" He took up the time-staff, gave the signal, and like a thunder-burst, with the clang of trumpets, sounded the first accord of the awful "Andante." That, as well as the succeeding "Allegro," was executed by the orchestra with admirable spirit. When the overture was at an end, there was a perfect storm of applause." "There were, indeed, a few notes dropped under the desk," observed Mozart, smiling to Strobach; "but, on the whole, it went off splendidly. I am greatly obliged to these gentle men. How during the rest of the opera the applause rose from scene to scene, how from its first representation to the present day, on every occasion, the "Fin chan dal vino" called and still calls forth enthusiastic Da Capos, is well known, not only to the brave people of Prague, but to the whole civilized world. Thus I bring to an end this little circle of scenes, which I do not presume to offer as a tale of art. They may prove, however, a pleasant memorial of the first production of a noble work, whose fiftieth anniversary was celebrated on the 4th of November, 1837; and which is destined through all future time to command the admiration of feeling hearts. stance, which was perfectly supererogatory,and begged of him to accompany him at once to the United Service, in order to assist in the settlement with Major Foxe. To this Sir William politely consented, and they repaired to the United Service, and inquired for Major Foxe of the porter. Major Foxe! Why, of course he was not there! Of course they knew nothing of him! of course he had not, and never did belong to the Club! 66 Why, surely the fellow could not have assumed that name to deceive us!" cried Stanley. "He certainly said the United Service," observed Sir William, who affected to be greatly surprised. “Is it possible, think you, that he meant the Junior United Service?" "Oh! very likely! I thought he could not be quite so barefaced a scamp! They went to the Junior Club; he was not known there. They examined the Army List minutely; he was not to be found. In short, there was no Major Foxe in the service. On making this discovery, Stanley said indeed but little; but Sir William, who had had just as lively an anticipation of the event as if he had actually been a confederate of the Major, denounced him with unexampled energy. He was a scoundrel, a blackleg, a villain, a swindler! he was every thing, in fact, but an honorable man. Stanley, however, still preserved comparative silence; and, on returning to the Albany, left the indignant Baronet, having engaged to dine with him at seven. Four thousand pounds! It was a large sum for him to lose, and that in one day! But the money must be paid; whether Major Foxe were or were not to be found, Sir William must have the amount he had won; and, being impressed with the the house of the widow, whom he found in a pleasing reverie, necessity for an immediate settlement, Stanley proceeded to recounting the delights whe had experienced the preceding day. 'Mother," said he, after the customary greeting, “you must let me have some money." "Very well, my love. Let me see, you had a checkwhen? However, you have not spent it unnecessarily, I dare say; but, if I give you another now, you must make it last a very long time; for you know we have both been extravagant of late." "I am sorry," said Stanley, "to require so much at once; but I must have, mother, four thousand pounds." "Four thousand! Why-four! Good gracious! my dear, what on earth can you want such a sum for?" "To pay a debt of honor," replied Stanley, with great calmness. What, did you lose four thousand pounds at the races! My dearest boy, to whom?" "To Sir William," said Stanley, and the countenance of the widow instantly changed. Had it been lost to any one else, of course the thing would have been very different indeed; but as it was, why, what in her judgement did it amount to! It would be still in the family! It was not like an absolute loss-it was only like taking money out of the right pocket, and it putting into the left. This she felt, and hence her reply was, that certainly the money must be paid. to such an extent? For goodness' sake, never bet again se "But," she added, "how came you, my dear boy, to bet largely. We shall be ruined-we shall indeed, if you continue *Continued from page 519. to go on so. But I thought, my love, you won of Majorwhat's his name ?-Foxe-ay, Major Foxe?" "So I did. I won two thousand eight hundred pounds of him, and lost four thousand to Sir William." "Oh! then the case is not so desperate! Then, if I give you twelve hundred pounds, that will do to settle all?" "Is Sir William to wait till I get the money of the Major? Is he to suppose that I cannot pay him until the Major pays me?" "Not for the world! No-he must be paid at once." "Of course; and when the Major settles with me, I'll hand the amount over to you." "Exactly. That will be perfectly correct and straightforward. But I have not so much at the banker's. Let me see, how can it be managed. When do you meet Sir William again?" "I have promised to dine with him to-day." "Dear me! Then I must run away at once into the city. I'll be back by four o'clock. Call then, and you shall have it." "Very well. But there is one thing you must promise me, mother, and that is, that you will not name a word of this to Amelia. It can do no good, and may make her unhappy, and I am sure you have no desire to do that." "Certainly not. But you must promise me that you'll never, never bet so much again." "I'll promise never to lose so much again, if I can possibly avoid it. But recollect, not a syllable to Amelia." The widow promised that she would not say a word, and they parted, and with an equal amount of satisfaction; for it must in strict justice to the widow be confessed that while Stanley was pleased that he had got over it so well, she rejoiced in the opportunity of convincing Sir William that there was really about her something pecuniarily substantial-an oppor tunity which she would not have failed to embrace for five times the amount. She therefore went into the city with rather a light heart; although she did think that Stanley ought not to suppose that he was at liberty to launch into any extravagancies he pleased. While Stanley was at home waiting rather impatiently for the hour of four, Bob was occupied in baring his breast to Joanna, the gentle and affectionate cook. He conceived it, and very correctly, to be more regular and honorable to explain to her clearly the position in which he stood, not alone because she was his principal creditor, but because she had invariably treated him with really great kindness which he could not but feel, inasmuch as she deemed herself in duty bound to tyrannize over, if not indeed to trample upon, the rest of the servants, in order that the contrast might be rendered thereby the more striking. He therefore confided to her at once the chief features of his melancholy case; and, when all had been explained, he observed, with much feeling, "Now the bottom of it is, cook, I owe you two pound. I can pay you just pay you and I feel justifiable in settling with you first; but if I do, I sha'n't have a individual copper for to pay my wet bets, which won't look the genteel thing exactly. Now I do n't want, you see, to ask master to ad vance. I don't like it-it don't agree with my disgestion. It's a delicate thing, and looks rotten; consequentially the point in embry 'mounts to this-do you want this here two pound, you know, before my quarter's up? “By no manner of means," replied the gentle Joanna."But why call me cook? You know I don't mind you, Robert, although I do n't choose to condescend to suffer the rest to come any familiarities. But, in regard of this money, I request you'll not name it. If you was in wants of twenty times as much, I've got so much confidence in somebody, that I do n't think that somebody would be very long without it. But how much do you say all these losings will come to?" "Why, I think three pound ten will about settle the lot." "And you 've only two pound? "Oh, but I can easy borrow the rest of old misses's coach vince him of the strength and virgin purity of her affection— although she had done, indeed, all that the delicacy of her nature could sanction, to inspire him with a perfect appreciation of the character of that vital spark with which she longed to set his heart in a blaze, she had never till then felt quite sure of success. She had therefore conceived him to be excessively dull on this interesting subject, and that dullness had indisputably outraged to a painful extent her refined sensibilities; but then, being conscious not only that wealth induced favor, but that favor was the legitimate germ of affection, she could not, nor did she indeed wish to, disguise from herself that in the garden of his heart she had planted this germ, and hence, fancying that she had but to cultivate it tenderly, proceeded to explain to him with much poetic feeling that she had a mass of money in one of the savings' banks to a highly respectable tune, and that she thought most sincerely that such mass would go far towards enabling a comfortable couple to commence in the independent green grocery line, if indeed it would not, with the aid of a brewer, establish them at once in a public house of respectability, which formed at that particular period the very acme of her ambition. Of course Bob's opinions upon this subject, were bound to be strikingly coincident with her own; and although he did not understand her aim exactly, having no serious matrimonial feelings about him, he continued to converse with her on various matters which had indirect reference to those feelings, until Stanley again ordered the cab. As the widow had been detained for some time in the city, she had but just alighted from her carriage when Stanley arrived. She seemed to have been slightly put out about something, but she instantly gave him a check for the amount required. Why do you give me this thing?" cried Stanley, throwing the check down as if it were valueless. "Why could you not bring me the money?" “A check, my love, looks more respectable-infinitely more respectable." "So it would, with my own name attached; but do you suppose I want the whole world to know that I have to run to you for all the money I want? Your own respectability, mother, you look at, not mine. If a check be an emblem of respectability, why not place me in a position to give checks of my own? Here it's now half-past four, and I must go galloping down to the banker's to get this thing cashed." 46 'Surely that is unnecessary? What difference can it make?" "What difference! Why, I would not let him see this on any account! I wish you had a little more thought for me, mother. If you had, I think your affection would be much more conspicuous." "Stanley!-indeed this is cruel! But you do not-you cannot really mean what you say. If you did, I should be wretched. My dearest boy! why are you so passionate? You'll break my heart! I'm sure you'll break my heart, and then you would be very sorry, would you not? Yes, I know would," she added, throwing her arms around his neck, and 'my boy!" fondly kissing him, 44 He returned the kiss coldly, and quitted the room. you Now the widow regretted all this very much: not only in consequence of Stanley's impetuosity, which she had in his childhood most culpably fostered, but because she had wished that particular check to pass through the hands of Sir William. However, as it was, she contented herself with the cherished conviction that he would, nevertheless, understand and duly appreciate the source whence it came. Having obtained the cash at the banker's, Stanley in due time proceeded to dine with Sir William; to whom, immediately after dinner-they being quite alone-he cheerfully paid the amount. Sir William affected to receive it with great reluctance. "Upon my honor," said he, "I am ashamed to take it of indeed." you. am, "Ridiculous!" cried Stanley. "The sum is nothing; and you must not lay the flattering unction to your soul' that I am not going to have my revenge." Sir William was pleased to hear that in Stanley's estimation the amount was inconsiderable. He was also pleased to hear him speak of having his revenge: still he appeared to be most unwilling to receive it. "I do not," he observed, "care a straw about winning any amount of a number of friends; but I cannot bear to win so much of one. However, as you insist upon my receiving it, I also must insist upon be allowed to make your amiable wife a present." "Nonsense! nonsense!" cried Stanley. "I beg you will do nothing of the sort.' "Then, by Heavens! I'll not have the money at all. I may be called a curious fellow, and perhaps I am; but this is n't quite congenial with a certain sort of principle, or feeling, I have about me.' "Why, suppose I had won it of you,—do you think I would not have received it?" "Not with pleasure. I am sure of it. I know you too well. At all events I'll do what I say. You can but call me out; and, although I'm not much of a shot, I'll back myself to fire in the air on such an occasion with any man in England." Stanley smiled. He had now a much better opinion of Sir William than ever; and, as both were well satisfied, they kept up a spirited, merry conversation, their full flow of pleasure being interrupted only when Major Foxe happened to be named; on which occasions Sir William invariably felt himself in honor bound to swell with indignation. At eleven o'clock precisely, Bob, according to instructions, drove up to the south entrance of the Albany, where he waited with the most exemplary patience till twelve, and then fell asleep, and dreamed of his prospects till one, when the arrival of Stanley and Sir William, both of whom were somewhat heated with wine, had the effect of making him leap out of the cab, and to rush to the horse's head, before his eyes were in a positively strict sense open. "You may as well jump in," said Stanley, on taking the reins. "Oh, with all my heart," returned Sir William. "The air is refreshing. I'll see you safely home, and then walk back coolly." He accordingly at once took his seat, and they started, turning the corner as if some great principle impelled the near wheel to graze the glove of a person whose hand was on the lamp-post. "I'll bet ten to one," said Sir William, on reaching the Circus, "that you do n't drive through the Quadrant at full gallop, without touching the pillars on the one side, or the shutters on the other." "What, on the foot-path there under the piazza, do you mean?" "Of course." "Safe bet," said Stanley, who continued to drive on. "Well, I'll tell you what I'll do with you, safe as it is: I'll take ten to one that I do it." "Done!" cried Stanley. "In fifties?" "Ay, in fifties. But the people!" "Oh, I'll very soon clear the course. You'll see how they'll all fly before us!" They now changed places. Stanley gave up the reins, and Sir William drove back to the Circus. won't be frightened. That's right, sir! Keep on, sir! Go right into the New Road, and then we 'll dodge 'em." "Can you see them now?" cried Stanley, on reaching the Cresent. "Oh, yes, sir! they 're just behind us, cutting away as if they had n't another minute to live. Now to the right, sir! I know every inch of the ground." Guided by Bob, Stanley went to the right, and in a short time turned to the right again, and then dashed through an infinite variety of streets, turning to the left and right alternately, until they reached Tottenham-court-road, although long before that Bob felt sure of having effectually eluded their official pursuer. "Well, Bob, which way now?" inquired Stanley. "Oh, any way you like, sir, now. You can walk the Prince, if you like, sir. They 've given up the chase. But I beg pardon, sir, but, if I was you, I'd never try that there dodge again. It's a mercy we was n't all smashed-and I'm sure we knocked some on 'em down. It's a regular miracle the Prince did n't bolt!" Sir William laughed heartily at this, notwithstanding he had lost; but Stanley, although he had won, felt that Bob was quite right, and was about to confess that justice had nothing to do with their escape, when the horse's head was sud denly seized by a policeman. "Stand aside!" cried Stanley. "Let go your hold!" "Not a bit of it!" cried the policeman, who still held on, until Bob, who had leaped from behind on the instant, threw his coat into the cab, and demanded an explanation. "What do you mean?" he exlcaimed. "Get away from my horse! Don't you see he do n't like you? What do you want? Do you hear? Stand away." And he seized the policeman; who, finding the horse becoming unmanageable, relinquished the reins, and seized him. Stanley was now about to leap from the cab, but Sir William restrained him, and, as at the moment Bob shouted, "Drive on, sir!-drive on! There's more of 'em coming, sir! Never mind me, sir! Drive on!" he somewhat reluc tantly gave the horse his head, and dashed away. Bob made no resistance: nor would he allow the calmness of his spirit to be ruffled; albeit two other policemen came up at the time, and handled him with something bearing the semblance of ferocity. "Behave," said he, "a leetle near the mark, and I'll walk like a gentleman. I don't want to cut away from you. It's no odds to me! If you was n't to go for to hold me at all, I'd walk with you as regular as a lamb." On this particular point the incredulity of the policemen was rather remarkable. They still held him tightly, and continued to hold him until they arrived at the station, when they placed him behind a piece of wood 'yclept the bar, and proceeded to introduce him to the notice of the inspector, who, while disposing of a mouthful of a cold mutton pie, looked at him with supreme official dignity. "Well," said the inspector, having listened with peculiar "Now, then," said he, " sit firm. Never mind the screams of the women. Hold hard, Bob! Yo-oicks! yo-oicks! tally-address, which was somewhat poetical, and who is your attention to the merits of the case, as portrayed in the opening ho!" he shouted, driving in by Swan and Edgar's shop."Yoi! yoi! yoi! yoi!"-toloo, toloo there!-yoi! yoi!" And away they dashed, while the women were shrieking, and the men were groaning, and the police were running from all directions. At starting, the horse was somewhat frighter ad and seemed half inclined to bolt out of the course; but as his reckless driver kept a tight rein, while continuing to shout as if Reynard had been in sight, he went on without a slip, although the flag-stones were nearly as smooth as glass. The task was nearly completed. Stanley's five hundred seemed scarcely worth a shllling's purchase. They had but to pass a few more pillars, and they were out. Keep on, sir! keep on!" shouted Bob. "The police!" This sufficiently startled the hair-brained Baronet to cause him, in his efforts to turn sharp into the road, to graze the base of the last pillar, and thus to lose. The angry exclamation which followed convinced Bob that Stanley had given up the reins. He cared, however, nothing for Sir William's anger then, but instantly pulled back the hood to give instructions. The people behind were still groaning with indignation, and the police were still running with great ferocity. "Keep on, sir! keep on sir!" cried Bob. "He can do more than that! We sha' n't beat 'em! There's one on 'em now at our heels in a cab! Take the reins-take the reins, master?" 66 Bob with great deliberation passed his hand over his chin, and said, " 'Why' going to let you stand hatching a lot of lies. Who is he?"Do you hear me! Who is your master? We are not the What's his name? Where does he live?" circumstantials of the case, I don't know, you see, exact, "Why," replied Bob, who was still unruffled, "under all that I should be regular justifiable▬▬▬▬▬” I ask who is your master? "None of your long speeches here. "You see,' It won't do. Again know!" returned Bob, with an appropriate gesture, "it's a delicate pint when you look at it deliberate! Reely I don't think it would become me to tell, do you "But you must tell! That's all about it." 'Well, if I must, why the fact of the matter is, I must There can't be two opinions, any how, about that; but it somehow or another strikes me forcible that I've heard a old saying, which says, You can take a horse to water, but you just occurs to my imagination that, if I make up my mind that can't make him drink. Now, that's a perdicament: and, it no doubt, I won't 'ell, I won't; and, as true as I'm alive I can't see such things was done in the days of sanguhinary Mary:" "What are you chattering about?" demanded the inspec sir!" he added, addressing Stanley, "and then the Princetor, who conceiving his authority to be in some degree cont temned, began to be really very angry. "Do you mean to say that you 'll not tell me who your master is? "Why I don't mean to say that I won't; nor I don't mean to say that I will; I was only just a-argufying the pint, which 1: seems to me to be rayther knotty." "It'll be all the worse for you, young fellow! Now, do you mean to tell me, or do n't you?" "I don't see how I can without cutting the throat of that confidence which ought—" "Yes, or no! We've had quite enough jabbering. Will you tell me, or not?" "Excuse me. Not to-night. I must turn the matter over in my mind." "Lock him up!" cried the inspector,-"lock him up!" And, after having as quietly as a dove undergone the operation of having his pockets emptied-the necessity for which, however, he could not then exactly comprehend, he was conducted from the bar into the yard, and introduced into one of the cells. As far as the abstract process of locking-up was concerned this met his views precisely: he expected to be locked up, as a matter of course, he expected that; but he did not expect to be introduced into a cell crowded with persons, of whom the majority were in a state of the most bestial intoxication, yet such was the fact. Some were snoring, some were singing, and some were swearing, while the effluvium which prevailed was not remarkable for its fragrance. Bob felt that this ought not to be. He understood, of course, then, why his pockets had been emptied; but he did think the practice of thrusting all sorts of characters into a place of this kind indiscriminately, was one which never ought to have obtained. He, however, resolved to make himself as comfortable as the circumstances of which some were peculiarly unpleasantwould permit; and, having discussed certain interesting points with his conscience, he fell asleep, and slept soundly till the clock struck nine. He was then aroused by the policeman who had charge of the cell; and who, being a decent man in his way, did, with great consideration, procure him some breakfast, which Bob enjoyed much, and then waited with patience till the hour arrived at which he and the rest were escorted to the office. In this procession he had the precedence; and he had scarcely left the door of the station when a stranger placed a coat into his hands, and walked away without uttering a word. Bob recognized the coat in an instant. It was a frock-coat. He had brushed it he knew not how eft, nor did he care. He put it on with alacrity, and the fit was undeniable. "Is that your own coat?" inquired the policeman, who did him the honor to keep by his side. 64 'No; the buttons of my own coats tells tales," replied Bob. "Your master, I suppose, sent it?" "He who sent it is a trump, and nothing but!" cried Bob, who was proud of the coat, and felt happy. "All right!" said he to himself in a confidential whisper. "Ain't it a blessing to have a master that's grateful?' He do n't care about me! What a pity he don't!" Hereupon Bob winked with peculiar significance, and entered the office with a tranquil mind. Nearly an hour elapsed before his case was called on; and although during the whole of that time he was perfectly selfpossessed, on being placed at the bar, and called "prisoner," he certainly did feel in some slight degree confused. As the case, however, proceeded, his nerves recovered their wonted tone; and when the charge had been made he pulled down his waistcoat, and held up his head with the air of a man conscious of having a great duty to perform. "Now," said the magistrate, "what have you to say to all this?" "Please your worship," said Bob, "it was n't a hact of mine. It was n't me that drove through the Quadrant at all." "We know that; but what do you say to the charge of having obstructed the police in the execution of their duty?" "Why, please your worship, what could I do? I did n't want to hurt nobody. I'm sure I'm of a peaceful dispensation enough; but, when I knew the police wanted for to collar my master, how could I stand that? Suppose you was my master, what would you think of me if I suffered you to be taken? Would it be at all the ticket? Would n't you think it unpopular and rotten ingratitude? I rayther think you would, your worskip, reely, if you only just put it to yourself in that predicament, and argue the matter cool." The magistrate smiled, and again consulted the police "Well, now, reely; I bow, of course, respectably to your worship; but, if you look at the thing in the right light, as a pint of principle, I do n't think that if I was to tellyou'd believe that I'd any principality in me." ure. The magistrate tried to look grave, but the thing was a failHe did, however, say, with great apparent severity, "What if I were to send you to prison, sir, and keep you there untill you did tell us?" "I hope your worship will think better of it," said Bob."It ain't as if I'd done a single ha'p'orth of injury; nor it ain't as if it was me, you know, as drove upon the pavement, which, if I must speak the sentiments of my mind, is a thing I would n't think of doing myself; and though the law may say I did n't ought to have touched the police, but ought rayther to have assisted him in collaring of master, your worship will see that such a law is right clean against nature; 'cause if I'd a-done that I should a hated myself regular: I could n't a been off it." " and "You are fined five pounds," said the Magistrate; tell your master from me that his conduct is disgraceful." Bob bowed; and as he left the bar a solicitor, whom Stanley had engaged to watch the case, placed in his hand the required sum, with which the fine was duly paid, and he was at once set at liberty. Sir William, who, although unperceived by him, had been in the office, now presented him a sovereign; and as on reaching home Stanley made him a present of five, he could not but feel that fortune, smiling sweetly upon him, had designed the whole thing with no other view than that of getting him out of those pecuniary embarrassments in which he had been so deeply and so painfully involved. CHAPTER XXI....The Reconciliation. The efforts of General Johnson to effect a reconciliation had been so perfectly successful, that he called on the morning of the event just rcorded to invite Stanley and Amelia to a quiet family dinner, gently hinting that they were not to feel in the slightest degree amazed if they met certain persons whom they honored. The intimation was, of course, in an instant understood; and nothing ever surpassed the fervid heart-stirring eloquence with which Amelia poured forth her thanks. The general, although overjoyed at having accomplished his object, could scarcely refrain from shedding tears. Every word touched his feelings as a father; every sentence went directly to his heart. Nor was Stanley unmoved. With all his faults he loved Amelia most fondly. He could not bear to see her afflicted. He might be thoughtless; he might negalone: but a gentle tear from her would wound him more lect her and his neglect was attributable to thoughtlessness than the most severe reproof that could be uttered. In this instance he knew that her tears were distilled from a feeling of joy; yet he could not endure them; and, as all his serious efforts to check them failed, he had recourse to that species of irony which tends to make troubles seem less by virtue of painting them greater than they are. us? "My love," said he, " this is indeed a dreadful day. Can the general be really a friend to bring this great calamity upon What the result of his polite invitation may be one can't think; but is it not your impression that it ought to break our hearts? Come, come, you silly girl! You should smile, not weep. Tears should be tolerated only with troubles; they should never be permitted to dim a happy prospect: General, should they?" "You are a good fellow, sir," said the general, pressing his hand. "I admire you, sir. You have an angel for a wife, and you know it." "Yes," said Stanley. playfully," she is very fair, considering. Her government is, however, extremely tyrannous." "That's right quite right: keep tight rein, my girl, and then he may do. He is a wild young dog, and requires to be looked sharply after. However, if you mind what you are about, I think it possible that the favorable opinion I have formed of his character will be lasting. "Goneral," said Stanley, "for the interest you have taken in Amelia accept my warmest thanks. She is a good girl; |