carried everybody with him; and, once to a run, going softly over the mossy

in the House, I have no fear of his principles; he'll be kept all right."

grass, so that she did not hear him. The sunset was glowing in the west, lighting "Luckily for him, the county knows up the woods with long slanting gleams, me, and knows he's all right; though he's and clouds of gorgeous colour, which a young gowk," said the old lord, looking floated now and then over the trees like from under his bended eyebrows at his chance emissaries from some army where hope and pride. They were more pleased, the cohorts were of purple and gold. Vi I think, than if Val had made the most sat with her face to that glow in the west, correct of speeches. His exuberance under the old beech-tree where the Babes and overflow of generous youthful readi- in the Wood had been discovered; but ness for everything made the old people her face was hidden, and she was weeping laugh, and made them weep. They knew, quite softly, confident in the loneliness at the other end of life, how these enthu- of the woods, through which now and siasms settle down, but it was delicious then a long sobbing sigh like a child's to see them spring, a perennial fountain, would break. The pretty little figure thus to refresh the fields and brighten the abandoned to sorrow, the hidden face, landscape, which of itself is arid enough. the soft curved shoulders, the golden hair They looked at each other, and remem-catching a gleam of the sunset through bered, fifty years back, how this same the branches, and still more, the paworld had looked to them—a dreary old thetic echo of the sob, went to Val's world, battered and worn, and going on j heart. He went up close to her, and evermore in a dull repetition of itself, touched her shoulder with a light caressthey knew; but as they had seen it once,ing touch. "Vi! what's the matter?" in all the glamour which they recollected, said the boy, half ready to cry too out of so it appeared now to Val. tender sympathy, though he was nearly twenty-two, and just about to be elected knight of the shire.

"Oh, Val, is it you?" She sprang up, and looked at him with the tears on her cheeks. "Oh, don't speak to me!" cried Violet. "Oh, how can you ask me what is the matter, after what has happened to-day?"

"Is that what you are crying for?" said Val. "Never mind, Vi, dear. I know you have got to stick to your father, and he must stick to his party. It was hard to see you over there on the other side; but if you feel it like this, I don't mind.”

Val himself was so much excited by all that had happened, that he strolled out alone as soon as he had got free, for the refreshment of a long walk. It was the end of March: the trees were greening over; the river, softening in sound, had begun to think of the summer as his banks changed colour; and the first gowans put out their timid hopeful heads among the grass. Val went on instinctively to the linn, with a minute wound in his heart, through all its exhilarations. He thought it very hard that Vi should not have been near him, that she should not have tied up her pretty hair with his blue ribbon, that she should have been "How did you think I should feel it?" ranged on the other side. It was the only cried the girl. "Oh no, you don't mind! unpleasant incident in the whole day, the you have plenty, plenty better than me to only drop in his cup that was not sweet. be with you, and stand up for you; but I He explained to himself how it was, and—I do mind. It goes to my heart." felt that the reason of it was quite com- And here she sat down again, and covprehensible; but this gives so little sitis-ered her face once more. Val knelt befaction to the mind. "Of course he must stick to his party," Val murmured to himself between his teeth; and of course Mrs. Pringle and Violet could not go against the head of the family in the sight of the world at least. When Val saw, however, a gleam of his own colour between the two great beech-trees he knew so well, he rushed forward, his heart beating lighter. He felt sure that it was Violet did not lift up her head, but she Violet's blue gown, which she must have cried more softly, letting the voice of the put on, on her return, by way of indemni-charmer steal into her heart. fying herself for wearing no blue in the morning. He quickened his step almost there," said Val, with his lips very close

side her, and drew away her hands.

"Here was where we sat when we were children," he said softly, to comfort her. "We have always cared more for each other than for any one else; haven't we, Vi? How could I have plenty, plenty to stand by me? wasn't it unkind to say so, when you know you are the one I care for most?"

"I was savage when I saw you over

"Oh Val!" She was almost as near him as when she fell asleep on his shoul-go. der. "But you must not speak to me so now," she cried suddenly, making an effort to break the innocent spell which seemed to draw them closer and closer; "it makes me wretched. Oh Val, it is not only that we were on the other side this morning. My heart is breaking. I am sure papa means to do something against you, and I cannot stop him. I think my heart will break."

"What can he do against me?" said Val, in his light-hearted confidence; "and he would not if he could. Don't think of such nonsense, Vi, but listen to

"Never!" cried Violet; and she shook his arm away and stood independent, with eyes glowing and cheeks flushing. Valentine" was half angry, half amused, with a man's instinctive sense of the futility of such protestations. How delightful it was almost a first quarrel, though their engagement was not an hour old !

"Well, then, you shall be a little Radical if you like so long as you come," he said. "I give in; but you must come with us for the election. I have set my heart on that; otherwise I shall stand up on the hustings," cried Val, "and say, "That young lady is going to be my wife, and this is how she treats me.' I swear, if you are not with grand mamma, I will

you, Val, or worn anybody else's colours, | so happy. She went up the brae more even if I had not-cared for you but leisurely, in no hurry to go in. Poor I am a Liberal as well as papa." child all her anxieties came back to her "You must be a Tory when you be- with double force. How was she to tell long to me," said Val. this, how to keep it secret? the one was almost as hard as the other. And then the great chimera in her mind, which she tried to say to herself was nothing, nothing! that dread which she could not explain or define the consciousness that her father was going to do something against Val. What could she do to hinder him? She shrank from encountering his sharp looks, from telling him her story, and yet was it not her duty to make one final effort? She went round the new buildings to the little old front of the cottage, which still commanded that view over the Esk which Violet loved so well. Her father was walking about alone smoking his cigar. No one else was visible. The peace of evening had fallen upon the house; but it was cold after the sunset, and Mrs. Pringle had not come out to cheer her husband while he smoked his cigar; indeed, to tell the truth, he was not sufficiently in his wife's good graces to have this indulgence. If Vi, his favourite child, could do anything, now was the moment. Her heart began to beat violently as she stood and looked at him, hesitating, drawn forward by one impulse and back by another. A mere chance movement settled the question. He held out his hand to her as she stood looking at him. "Come, Vi, give me your company," he said; your mother thinks it too cold to come out. Where have you been, child, so late?"

How foolish you boys are!" said Vi; and she took his arm, as if, they both thought, they had been old engaged people, or married people (it did not much matter which). And in this way they made their charmed progress through the wood, forgetting the passage of time till they came to the brae at the Hewan, where Violet, with some terror, dismissed her lover. "You shall not come any farther," she said; "you shall not. I don't mean you to see papa to-night. Oh Val, Val! what shall I do if he means to do you any harm?”

"Tell him he will be harming you," said Val; but how lightly he took her terror what could Mr. Pringle or any man do to him? He was at the high topgallant of success and happiness, almost intoxicated with all the good things that had come to him, and with the young innocent love which rose warm as a summer stream and as soft, fed by all the springs of his heart, growing with all the growth of his life. It was very hard to leave her there, and make his way to his dinner and his politics; but still it had to be done, though Violet stamped her little foot in impatience before he would go. When they parted at last, Val sped along the twilight woods like an arrow, with nothing but triumph and delight in him; he had plucked the last flower of happiness, to wear in his bosom forever. There seemed to be nothing wanted to the perfection of the moment, and of his life.

As for Violet, she was far from being

66

"I have been down at the linn," said Violet; “it is always so pretty there."

"But you need not have forgotten your dinner, my dear; your mother does not like it; and I thought you were tired after your drive to Castleton," said Mr. Pringle, in slightly reproachful tones.

"I am not tired, papa; I was a littletroubled in my mind. Papa, must we go on the election day, and put ourselves up again, against Val? Oh papa, why? might we not stay at home at least? That is what I was thinking of. Valentine never did any harm to us, papa."

"Has not he?" said Mr. Pringle, fiercely. "You are a goose, Vi, and know nothing about it; you had better not speak of what you don't understand."

Val has done is by being born, and how He paused a moment, casting a perturbed could he help that? But papa, dear," glance towards Lasswade, whence probasaid the girl, twining her arm suddenly bly by this time his shaft had been within his, and leaning on him closely-launched- - poor little innocent village, "that was not what I was thinking of. under its trees. Had there been time to Down at the linn, where we used to be draw back I almost think he would have so much together, how could I help think- done it; but as there was not time, Mr. ing? Val was always so- Vi Pringle took the only alternative. He paused, with injudicious words on her shook off his daughter's arm, and told her lips which she stopped just in time to go in to her mother, and concern her"nice to me," she added, with a quick self with things she understood; and breath of fright at her own temerity. that when he wanted her advice, and her "Even the boys were never so good to friend Val's, he would ask for it, not me; they never took me out into the sooner. "A couple of babies!" he said woods to play truant. Oh papa, if you contemptuously, not perceiving in his recould only know how delightful it was! morse, and resentment, and sore impatience, that even now he had linked the name of his young enemy, upon whom he had revenged himself, to that of his favourite child.

"He might have broken your neck," said the obdurate father. "I owe him something for the fright he gave us that day."

as

What fright did he give you? Mamma has told me since she was not a bit frightened. It was the very sweetestno, almost the very sweetest," said Violet, a little thrill of tremulous happiness going through her heart, which told of a sweeter still"day of my life. He took much care of me as if I had been - his sister; more than the boys ever take. Oh papa! and to sit up yonder against him, as if we were not friends with Val. He is the only one who does not blame you a bit," said Violet, unused to secrets, and betraying herself once more.

"He! you have seen him, then? It is very kind of him certainly not to blame me," said Mr. Pringle, with a smile.

He says of course you must stick to your party," said Violet. "I just met him-for a moment-in the wood. He was not angry, though I should have been angry in his place. He said it was very hard to see mamma and me over there, but that of course we could not help it, and that he was sure you would not really harm him even if you could."

Mr. Pringle was not a bad man, and his whole being was quaking at that moment over something he had done. Like many another amiable person, led astray by a fixed idea, he had brooded over his injury till it filled all earth and heaven, and made any kind of revenge seem lawful and natural, until, as the climax of a world of brooding, he had launched the deadly shaft he had been pointing and preparing so long. Now it was done, and a cold chill of doubt lest it were ill done had seized upon him. He had called Violet to him on purpose to escape from this, and lo! Violet seized upon him too, like an angel of penitence.

From Blackwood's Magazine. INTERNATIONAL VANITIES.

NO. VI. DIPLOMATIC PRIVILEGES.

THE profession of ambassador has come down terribly in the world. It is true that it cannot yet be classed promiscuously with the ordinary trades by which men earn their bread; it is still superior to lawyering, doctoring, and schoolmastering; it continues to stand, socially, above soldiering, sailoring, and the cure of souls; it still possesses a special character, and is still surrounded by a respect-provoking halo ; — but it has altogether lost its once effulgent glory; it is now only a faded remnant of its former self. There was a time when ambassadors were regarded as the effective personal representatives of the monarchs in whose name they came; when the prestige of the one was reflected fully on to the other; when the splendour of the prince shone out brilliantly in the envoy; and as, in those days, sovereigns were vastly bigger personages than they are at present, their ambassadors occupied a situation proportionately higher than that which they now own. The two have dropped mournfully together; master and man have equivalently and simultaneously descended; revolutions, popular education, public opinion, and the telegraph, have dragged both down, side by side. One consequence of this change is, that the phrase "Diplomatic Privileges" has lost the greater part of its original meaning. It once signified the

enjoyment of prerogatives and rights of a truly royal nature; it once was a reality of grave import; it once constituted a strange but most striking testimony of the universal recognition of the then indisputable rights of kings; but now, alas! it implies, in daily practice, little more than the faculty of importing cigars. free of duty. Its history is odd, however; its details to the disrespectful eye of this irreverent nineteenth century -are amusing; furthermore, it stands out glaringly in the front rank of the vanities of nations. There are therefore several sufficient reasons for talking

about it here.

after Charles VIII.'s expedition to Naples (1495) that princes generally began to keep up special agents in their neighbours' ground. Isolated cases occur at earlier periods, but the principle was not adopted until the beginning of the sixteenth century.

Distinctions between the various classes of diplomatic envoys appear to have sprung up at once. Ambassadors, properly so called, were soon found to be excessively expensive; their display of ceremonial, and their tremendous selfassertion, involved so large an outlay, that, whenever it was not absolutely necessary to employ them, they were It may be useful to begin the story by speedily replaced by cheaper and more observing that it is an error to imagine, modest agents. But though, in this way, as many people do, that ambassdors are diplomatic representatives became dian ancient institution: they are, on the vided, from their very origin, into catecontrary, in their present form, an essen-gories and ranks, it was not until after tially modern product; like many others the Peace of Westphalia that fixed rules of our surroundings, they have crept into were adopted for their classification. use during recent centuries, concurrently From that date (1648) commences what with the general march of new necessities the authors admiringly describe as "the and new inventions. Ambassadors are a great diplomatic epoch," which lasted for fruit of the world's progress, just as nearly two hundred years, and is considmuch as standing armies, vaccination, or ered to have reached its end at the Condeep-sea telegraphs; they have grown gress of Vienna. In those days there with the growth of things around them. was no public opinion to control or interIt may be said of them, approximately, fere with the individual wishes of the that they and gunpowder were invented sovereign; diplomatists then represented, at the same period; that they rose into almost exclusively, a personal royal general use contemporaneously with policy; and, as the post was slow, as the printing; and that they attained their telegraph was not invented, as envoys full development at the moment when were often at a month's distance from gravitation was discovered. All the spe- their master, they were obliged to intercial authors agree in certifying that the pret their instructions as they could, or functionaries described by the title of to act without instructions. For these ambassador were entirely unknown un- various reasons an ambassador had really til the thirteenth century, at which epoch then an important part to play, and a grave the Popes began to send them forth. responsibility to support; diplomacy The messengers and the heralds of an- was then an occupation needing foretiquity and the middle ages were not am- thought, prompt decision, much subtlety bassadors; such agents could have no of imagination, and abundant bravery; existence so long as international rela- its professors therefore had in addition tions maintained the single and simple to their impersonation of their monarch form of perpetual war. Consequently, it some personal grounds for claiming was not until the earth was no longer the extravagant prerogatives which were young that governments became materi- conceded to them. But now that minally able to employ resident representa-isters of foreign affairs are, practically, tives abroad, and then, as has just been directing by the wires all the details of said, it was the Papal Court which set their negotiations throughout Europe the example of utilizing them. That now that envoys can get an answer from Court was the first to recognize that it their Governments in an hour- now had interests to protect and influences to that they have lost almost all initiative, maintain in other countries. Diplomacy and have been relieved of almost all rewas, as might perhaps have been ex-sponsibility,- it would be just, even if pected, an offspring of religion. The there were no other motive for it, that French kings slowly imitated Rome; they should lose some part of their priv Louis XI. had resident envoys in Bur- ileges as well. gundy and England; but it was not till

They have not lost them altogether;