something out of place, the weak trait in an impressive general effect. Manliness, in fact, is a quality that rarely runs through a character; and the opposite to manliness is childishness. The people to whom we cannot impute this flaw are solid, rather than brilliant. Brilliancy loves display, and all display gives in this direction. Just as Bottom is childish when he wants to undertake every part, so men of conspicuous talents are childish who will not let any department of literature or business alone. We feel it to be so by a diminution of our respect for them. The same intellectual versatility of action which we admire in childhood, we feel to detract from the weight of manhood.

In using the word childish, we do not take the philosopher's or the ascetic's view of it. We do not say that people are childish for liking distinctions, or fine clothes, or jewels, or equipages, or applause of crowds, or games, or risks for the sake of risk. They like these things because they are men and women, not because they are children. It is not in the abstract frivolity of a pursuit, but in the way of pursuing it, that the thing we mean reveals itself as a partial defect, a thing to cause surprise. We make a discovery which causes a sense of disappointment, or furnishes simple matter for speculation, according as our feelings are concerned. We see that mankind is subject to this incompleteness. The intellectual soil is faulty in parts: no solid superstructure can stand on it. There is such a thing as a fixed immaturity: like fruit in an unfriendly season, it will not ripen.

It is, of course, the art of society and knowledge of the world to conceal such weaknesses. The man of the world is all armed. In fact, a wrench or break of some sort generally emancipates the youth from his childhood; and wide intercourse in a new field effects this wrench. The most conspicuous examples of partial, as well as of entire childishness, are to be found in narrow circles. Many modes of life foster childishness; they leave no outlet for growth, and present no sufficient novelty in exchange for what should be thrown aside and "put away: " but it is one of the mistakes that minister to the awe which the man of the world inspires to suppose, because it is out of sight, that it is not there. Catch one of these formidable beings at a disadvantage, look behind the screen of an accomplished manner and lofty assumption, and we are startled by some flagrant or pitiable trait, characteristic of the raw childish time; some timidity, some propensity, some ignorance, some trick or habit, which lasts undisturbed, uncorrected, through all the changes, polishings, and hardenings of the outer man. It is well it should be so; else men of figure, pretension, and general prestige would stand at too great an advantage over others, ungifted by nature and fortune, ungifted except in some share of mother-wit which helps them to the consolation of these discoveries.

If we contemplate childhood, we find that many of the qualities that most charm us in it are delightful because they are ephemeral: we should recoil at once if we supposed they were to last. Notice, for instance, the excessive activity of infancy, what may be called its passion for business. It is never still: it rushes from one occupation to another, finding nothing beyond the scope of its inclinations and supposed powers. This hurry, this running after work, is delightful in a child, because it is a passing stage of life. We take for granted, that, as thought develops, this tumult of activity will steady itself. When it remains, when it lasts on, uncorrected, in the man, it is childishness, whatever it may be taken for by himself and some other people. When he rejoices in the multiplicity of irons he has in the fire, we may safely regard him as having never laid aside the habits of his infancy, or occupied himself as he ought in the manly business of thinking, which should modify this trick of action. Again, in children we are quite content with mirth without wit. No children are witty; for, in fact, wit is essentially a mature production: several qualities of mind combine to produce it which are in embryo in childhood. Yet they find a great deal to laugh about; and we laugh with them, without effort, in glad sympathy, though we find them very constant to their jokes, and one lasts them a

long time. But, unfortunately, this sort of jocularity, with a good many men, outlives its proper date. Far be it from us to spoil sport; but how many jokes, without a vestige of fun in them, are instigated by the ghost of old infantine vivacity! The joker jokes because he has always joked, and has never put away the method of childhood from him. Perhaps this is as common a form of childishness as any. A great many men are manly, sensible, influential, in their grave discourse, who flounder into a lower standing when they pretend to be humorous; and this because their jokes are made under a different understanding altogether from the jests of real wit. All worn-out jokes are childish. Children can laugh at the same thing many times over: if a man does the same, it is for the reason, that, in this particular, he is a child still. So, to utter a pleasantry, not because it is new, but because it is old, because it was said yesterday, shows a man to be at odds with his contemporaries: their minds have grown, while his remains stationary. Many more persons than are at all aware of it are tempted on by habit to a form of jocularity in which there is no conscious act of invention. Narrow circles and family circles encourage one another in a phraseology of humor, a sort of skeleton vivacity, where the spirit of fun is wholly wanting. Not that they are alive to this. Habit is as potent with the hearer as with the speaker. Nowbody measures the joke by the standard of wit. and-so is all himself to-day," is the received verdict of approval; "all himself" meaning that he is talking in the same strain, jocose on the same subject, lively, without either a new theme or a fresh thought. The difference between a man's joke and this travesty of wit is, that in the one the mind is active, in the other it reposes on a habit of jocularity. It is assumed that the wish to be witty fulfils its own end.

"So

Another trick of infancy is a love of showing its novelties and possessions. We note this sort of officiousness in many childen. No sooner do they catch sight of a visitor, a new arrival of any sort, than they hasten to entertain him by the production of their latest treasures, - any thing indeed. The first thought is, "What have I to show?" and all sorts of incongruities follow on the indulgence of this impulse. We admire and discuss with a good grace because they are children, whose lead we must follow if we care to please them, and also because we may say and do what we please. We are not always critics. But where the habit does not drop off, where the fancy of these exhibiters to display their wares for our entertainment lasts into the maturity of life, the case is different. Very few people indeed have an omniverous curiosity; and it happens more often than not, that what our friend persists in showing hits some blot in our acquirements. We are ignorant where he is knowing; and it requires an exceptional passion for knowledge in general to throw one's self into conchology, or genealogy, or heraldry, or a print, or an old coin, or a copy of verses, because our friend has something to show about them. The visitor expects to be led on to talk, and has his topics and interests ready. He finds that he has to abandon this vantage ground, and to force his unwilling attention upon subjects alien to his tastes. There are men with whom you cannot be in a room three minutes without their rushing off in quest of some book or other object. Conversation is impossible in their company. They are intent, from mere habit, on showing something, which means violently breaking the thread of discourse: and it is an irrepressible inclination; there is nothing to be done but to humor it, avenging ourselves for these amiable outrages by pronouncing our friend a child still. There is another example by which to express our meaning, though it may be deemed below the dignity of print. However, our subject is puerile: so why shrink from minute instances, especially as it is a sort of childishness of very wide prevalence? We all know it, and are irritated by it; and yet, ten to one, we do it ourselves, whenever we are not restrained by the severer exigencies of formal good manners. It shows, in fact, that on the domestic hearth, where we may take liberties, we are still children. The post probably brings newspapers enough each morning to supply, by subdivision, every one of the party present. Each one seizes his portion, and throws his attention into the comprehensive glance which is the cream of newspaper reading.

It is a rule which admits of no exception, that a man with the day's paper just put into his hands does not want to be interrupted; yet somebody present will read bits out of his own, to the disturbance of the rest. They need not be important bits: the reader knows that everybody will come upon them in time, and through a means which he himself infinitely prefers to this method of dribbling them out upon unwilling ears; but he cannot help indulging himself with something to tell,— of all habits the most characteristic of the child. Every child desires, above all things, to be the first to tell. To possess a piece of news, and to be before others in the telling of it, is the especial craving of infancy; and in this matter how many are infants still! We do not mean that the inclination to impart news is childish. Nobody who is worth any thing as a companion is without it; but this remorseless interruption, this deadness to our rights over time and place, is essentially childishness, innocent in the child, who does know that he infringes on our privileges by any thing he does of this sort, but culpable in the man, who knows perfectly well, if he would reflect, how sensitive he is under a similar annoyance, and who ought to be alive to the unwilling, grudged attention with which his self-indulgence is repaid.

The habit of collecting is generally begun in childhood. It may be applied to most useful and important purposes in after life; but generally some of the old turn lingers in it, and about the collector himself. It is unnecessary, however, to follow the subject into further detail. Where it at all takes possession of the thoughts, every reader will easily find examples of his own, high and low, public and private, illustrating the childish things which the grown man. in so many instances has not put away.

FOREIGN NOTES.

A SUBSCRIPTION is being raised in Paris to erect a monument to Auber.

fore the police magistrate, who fined the former twenty-five and the latter two hundred francs.

Chambers's Journal for June the 1st has an entertaining paper on Mr. Fields's "Yesterdays with Authors." The writer closes by saying, "While we are reading Yester days with Authors,' it seems, indeed, that they are with us to-day; and our thanks are due to him who has reproduced them for our pleasure."

THE English government has a neat way of encouraging inventive genius. The Court Journal says that a clerk employed at the Chatham Dockyard has been suspended from duty for twenty-one days, without pay, for the "offence" of communicating some valuable suggestions on improvements in iron ship-building direct to the Admiralty, instead of forwarding them through the head of his department.

AUSTRALIA is not more fortunate than other places with regard to places of amusement. The Melbourne Theatre Royal, considered the first theatre in the country, has been entirely destroyed by fire, which broke out shortly after a performance of "The Streets of New York." This is the third Australian theatre which has been burnt in less than eighteen months; the buildings previously consumed being the Prince of Wales's Theatre, Sydney, and the Melbourne Haymarket.

THE Athenæum says, "The statement that Mlle. Tietjens has declined forty-eight hundred pounds, with her trav elling expenses besides, to sing two pieces, for twelve consecutive days, at the monster Jubilee Festival, which will be commenced in Boston at the end of this month, is not a canard: the offer was made by telegram, but the London engagements of the German prima donna prevented its acceptance. Four hundred pounds per day, or two hundred pounds per song, i indeed terms which may be stated to be the maximum ever proposed to any vocalist."

ALL the fragments of the Vendôme column have been recovered except a small portion near the top and middle part of the shaft. It has now been ascertained that, in

MR. CARLYLE received the other day, from the German Empress, the formal expression of the thanks of the Emperor, for the "Life of Frederick the Great."

PRINCE BISMARCK is, it seems, in such bad health that he intends to have a rest of several months directly the state of public business will permit.

THE Paris papers mention that citizen Courbet had the modesty to go into the country, so as not to pass the anniversary of the fall of the Vendôme in Paris.

THE London comic papers do not fail to congratulate the United States on the graceful manner in which we eat humble-pie.

THE Cosmopolitan observes that "George N. Sanders is about to return to the United States, to take a part in the election. George is not much on the stump, but great in laying pipes and pulling wires."

It is said that on a recent occasion the people waited patiently outside the doors of the theatre at Dresden for a space of eleven hours, to hear Madame Lucca sing in "Faust."

A YOUNG American in Paris has designed, and is having prepared, a badge for the new order of Cincinnati. It is in the form of a Greek cross, illuminated with as many d'amonds as there are stars in the national flag, and has in the centre a portrait of Horace Greeley.

THE umbrella duel fought on the Boulevards recently, between the gallant M. Ratisbonne of the Débats, and the equally gallant M. Rogat of the Pays, has just ended be

in the surrounding hotels (Americans, it is said) were able to secure, at a high price, four large pieces; in addition to which it has now become known that a Swiss, staying at the Hôtel Chatham, became the proprietor of a fifth piece, weighing three pounds, six ounces, of which he has just made a present to an old friend of his.

IN the Romish Cathedral of Seville, the service on Easter Eve is begun without sound of bell or note of music. On the north side of the altar stands the paschal candle, a pillar of wax nine yards in height, and thick in proportion, weighing eighty arrobas, or about two thousand pounds. This candle is recast and newly ornamented every year, being broken in pieces on Whitsun Eve, and a part of it used in the consecration of the baptismal font. The candle is lighted with new fire, struck by a priest from a flint, and burns until Ascension Day. It is lighted and trimmed by a surpliced chorister, who climbs to the top by means of a gilt iron rod, furnished with steps like a flagstaff.

OUR English cousin is actively engaged at his Woolwich arsenal in the manufacture of various kinds of torpedoes, both aggressive and defensive, the production of these warlike implements apparently taking precedence of all other kinds of work. The torpedo upon which the largest number of workmen is engaged is the "fish torpedo:" it is made of iron, in the shape of a fish, and is about five feet long. When discharged from the side of a suitable vessel, it is set in motion by a small atmospheric engine, which gives to the tail a motion similar to that of a screw-propel ler, and passes through the water at the rate of nine knots an hour to the side of a hostile ship, which it strikes with wonderful accuracy, instantly exploding, and causing the almost certain destruction of the vessel. These torpedoes can, it is said, be used with effect against vessels at dis

tances of four hundred or five hundred yards from the point at which they are discharged.

THE Rev. Dr. Cumming, in the course of a recent lecture at Bristol, in mentioning, approvingly, that Scotland had opened her pulpits to Anglican bishops and clergy, expressed a hope that the next movement would give him a chance of preaching in Westminster Abbey. He was ambitious to occupy that place, because his friend Archbishop Manning had stated that it was certain that before he died he would say high mass within the walls of Westminster Abbey; and he (the doctor) was most anxious to give the Archbishop a good introduction by telling the people what high

mass was.

THE attempts made during the siege of Paris to establish a system of signals with mirrors and reflected light appear to have failed only because there was no spot in the city high enough for the rays of light not to be intercepted by the curve of the earth's outline, before they had reached a serviceable distance. The recent experiments at Montpelier, directed by M. Leverrier, seem to promise ultimate success; and an exceedingly simple apparatus is suggested for enabling two bodies of troops to discover each other's whereabouts, and so establish telegraphic communication.

THE Spectator has discovered that Mark Twain is a humorist. "The United States," says the critic, "are taking a lead in the humorous literature of the day. Bret Harte and Col. John Hay and Artemus Ward are not alone. Their humor, it is true, is of a much more subtle character than that of Mark Twain, and the outcome rather of a political and social irony than of a keen sense of the ludicrous simply; yet Mark Twain ranks high, and is much more certain to be understood and appreciated by a general public, especially in countries where the politics, manners, customs, and tone of thought, of Americans are, comparatively, little known. The secret of his fun lies in the assumed childlike credulity with which he accepts the premises offered, and the real ability and assumed simplicity with which he follows them up to their logical but utterly absurd conclusions. For instance, in writing of Benjamin Franklin, whose birthplace is a matter of dispute at Boston, he says, 'He was twins, being born simultaneously in two different houses in the city of Boston.' And in the same way he ignores the inference in Franklin's boast that he began life with only half-a-crown, and takes it simply as a statement of fact. He was always proud of telling how he entered Philadelphia for the first time, with nothing in the world but two shillings in his pocket, and four rolls of bread under his arm. But really... it was nothing. Anybody could have done it.'"

THE Greeks appear to be making strong efforts to convert the Jews to Christianity. On Sunday, the 5th of May, according to the Levant Herald, a party of drunken Greeks seized upon a poor Polish Jew, in an obscure part of Galata, smeared his beard and hair with tar, and set fire to them, inflicting cruel and probably fatal injuries upon their victim. At Smyrna, there has been a display of Christianity on an unwonted scale. A report having been circulated that a Christian child had been killed by the Jews as a sacrifice at their passover, a fearful onset was made on these unhappy people. In vain did the priests from the church-pulpits proclaim that the child in question had simply been drowned by accident. Every Jew met with was horribly maltreated; and after some hours of indecision, during which it was vainly hoped that sober sense might prevail, the excited Greek mob, with all the rascality of the town in its train, made for the Jewish quarter, sacked the houses, murdered the inmates, and committed other acts of brutal atrocity. Many Jews at length turned on their assailants, and then the fury of the Greek rabble knew no bounds. Neither women nor children were spared; and these scenes of violence continued day after day, until the Jewish quarter was converted into a pandemonium of pillage, rapíne, and murder.

At length the governor interfered. Troops were called in, and Christianity was brought under some sort of control.

A CORRESPONDENT of the Times, signing himself “ A Wrangler of former Days," points out a curious error in the calculations by which Mr. Jeula and Mr. Chichester Fortescue have been estimating the significance of the increase in the number of collisions at sea. It is erroneous,

he observes, to suppose that the number of collisions will, with equal management, increase merely in proportion to the number of vessels. The true theory is, that the number of collisions will vary as the combinations of the number of vessels taken two together, for obviously every vessel is liable to come into collision with every other. Suppose, for instance, that there are on a certain river two vessels only, and that they come into collision once a year, on an average. Suppose, now, that two new vessels are introduced; then each of them will come into collision, not only with the other, but with each of the former two vessels; so that, instead of the number of collisions being doubled, it will be increased in the ratio of six to one; and this will hold good whatever be the numbers. An application of this theory to Mr. Jeula's statistics shows that the proportionate number of collisions has decreased materially, instead of having increased, as was erroneously supposed. The collisions of sailing-vessels, which should have risen twenty-one per cent, with equal management, on the increased number of vessels, have only risen nine and fourtenths per cent, while the collisions of steamers, instead of having doubled, have increased only sixty-three and fourtenths per cent. "There is nothing so fallacious as figures," concludes the "Wrangler;" but the words " except facts are sometimes added, and it is to be hoped that Mr. Jeula's statistics, upon which the " Wrangler" relies, are more

correct than his calculations.

THE well-informed Roman correspondent of the Perseveranza gives some interesting particulars relative to the refusal of the Pope to accept Prince Bismarck's nomination of Cardinal Hohenlohe as the German ambassador at the Vatican. At first, says the correspondent, both the Pope and Cardinal Antonelli were disposed to concur in this appointment; but the Jesuits, fearing that it might produce a rapproachement between Germany and the Holy See, set every engine at work to prevent it. In this they were strongly supported by the French clergy at Rome, who had a powerful advocate in M. Veuillot, that gentleman being at the same time on a visit to the Holy City. "The policy of the Jesuits," observes the correspondent," which does its utmost to prevent any distinction being made in theory or in practice between Jesuitism and Catholicism, here had a common ground of action with that of the French Chauvinistes, who hope to bring religious fanaticism into the field as their ally in the future war of revenge against Germany. . . . These are mighty influences on the anti-German side, and they place the Pope in an extremely difficult situation. The French clergy evidently claim to be the protectors of the Holy See, with the intention of afterwards making use of their position to influence the destinies of France. Religion is thus made the cloak of an extensive conspiracy; and the Pope, who professes to be the prisoner of the Italian Government, is really the prisoner of these ambitious plotters."

THE Saturday Review devotes an article to Mrs. Woodhull, who is not worth the powder. Among other sensible things, the Saturday Review says, "It would be absurd, of course, to attribute any deep or serious influence to persons like Mrs. Woodhull, or to publications such as her weekly journal: but worthless straws will show how the wind blows; and the connection between the free-love movement in America and the agitation for what are called women's rights, is too close and conspicuous not to be remarked. Whatever gloss may be put upon it, there is no getting rid of the fact that the cardinal principle, underlying the demands which are raised for a female franchise, for the legal independence of

married women, and so on, is simply that marriage shall cease to be an absolute and permanent union, in the sense in which it has hitherto been understood; and that it shall be reduced to a mere commercial partnership, with limited liability. From this to free love is only a step, and not a very wide one. Under the new system, a woman would be taught to regard herself as a person with separate rights and interests from her husband; the legal facilities which would be provided, in order to enable her to assert her independence, would supply a constant incentive to do so; and whenever any serious difference of opinion or quarrel arose, the minds of husband and wife would be turned, not, as at present, in the direction of compromise and conciliation, but rather to immediate separation. When married people know that they must make the best of each other, they naturally try to do so; but if it were once to be understood that they have separate interests and possessions, and a distinct legal existence, and that the only tie between them is a mere matter of commercial convenience, the natural consequence would be to destroy that unity of thought and sentiment upon which the permanent happiness of such a union so vitally depends. Of course, if personal convenience is to be the ruling principle of marriage, it would seem to follow that the marriage should be dissolved when the convenience has ceased; and thus we get to Mrs. Woodhull's theory, that the duration of marriage should be measured solely by inclination, and that a woman has a right to take a new husband every day if she likes."

THE last number of the Examiner contains a flattering review of Mr. Higginson's " Atlantic Essays." We select the following passage from the article: "There is so little that is oceanic in either the style or the pretensions of these charming essays, that it may be well enough to mention for English readers that their general title is derived from the Atlantic Monthly, of Boston, in which they originally appeared. At the same time, there is enough in these pages to remind us that the ocean stretching between the old world and the new is a connection as well as a separation; and that, though the accumulated culture of Europe may undergo a certain filtration on the way over, its influence has become an appreciable element in American thought. Mr. Higginson has a true but a cautious respect and sympathy for the tendencies of his country, while he is above all a literary artist, and with his fine insight reads the events and faces around him by the best lights of the world's large experience. He is free without extravagance, brave without recklessness, and original without eccentricity. And when to these qualities we add that he has the instincts of a scholar, a fine imagination, and genuine American humor, we need give no stronger assurance to those who are interested in the phases of transatlantic thought that they will find, in the "Atlantic Essays,' a volume well worthy of their attention. It is, indeed, hardly to the credit of our reading public that a writer of such remarkable powers should, as yet, be comparatively unknown in this country; though there are a few who have known the same author's Out-door Papers' as embodying the muscular' philosophy in its American form, and still more who have been entertained by the fine New-England romance, Malbone,' which has been printed in this country. There are casual evidences in this work that Mr. Higginson has for some time been a man of distinction among his countrymen; and those who followed with interest the varying fortunes of the late civil war in America may recognize him as among the foremost of the scholars of New England who suspended their literary pursuits, and gave themselves up with enthusiasm to the work of saving their country and of redeeming it from the great wrong which had so long impeded its progress. Of these, none more distinguished himself on the battle-field than our author. If any of our readers have fallen in with a work entitled Army Life in a Black Regiment,' which bears the name of Col. Higginson as its author, they will probably remember it as one of the most characteristic and notable chapters in a history replete with romance. The civil war happily ended, and the evil which caused it eradicated, the thinkers of Amer

ica have been able to resume their congenial pursuits with a cheerfulness and devotion which were scarcely possible in a country so long under the pressure of angry political and moral contentions; and we can well realize the change which has come over that country, so far as its scholars are concerned, when we think of one of them as passing from the leadership of a regiment of negroes in South Carolina, to the production of a work like that before us, indicating, as it does on every page, a refinement of thought, a breadth of culture, and a poetic insight, which could only have become associated by a very abnormal combination of circumstances with military renown."

VOL. I.]

THE YELLOW FLAG.

BY EDMUND YATES.

AUTHOR OF " BLACK SHEEP,' ""NOBODY'S FORTUNE," ETC., ETC.

CHAPTER VII.-IN THE CITY.

HE descriptions of the great house of Calverley & Co., given respectively by Mr. and Mrs. Calverley, though differing essentially in many particulars, had each a substratum of truth. The house had been founded half a century before by John Lorraine, the eldest son of a broken-down but ancient family in the north of England, who in very early years had been sent up to London to shift for himself, and, arriving there with the conventional half-crown in his pocket, was, of course, destined to fame and fortune. Needless to say, that like so many other merchant princes, heroes of history far more veracious than this, his first experiences were those of struggling adversity. He kept the books, he ran the errands, he fetched and carried for his master, the old East India agent in Great St. Helen's; and by his intelligence and industry he commended himself to the good graces of his superiors, and was not only able to maintain himself in a respectable position, but to provide for his two younger brothers, who were sipping from the fount of learning at the grammar school of Penrith. These junior scions being brought to town, and applying themselves, not, indeed, with the same energy as their elder brother, but with a passable amount of interest and care to the duties set before them, were taken into partnership by John Lorraine when he went into business for himself, and helped, in a certain degree, to establish the fortunes of the house. Of these fortunes John Lorraine was the mainspring and the principal producer: he had wonderful powers of foresight, and uncommon shrewdness in estimating the chances of any venture proposed to him; and with all these he was bold and lucky,"far too bold," his old employers said, with shaking heads, as they saw him gradually, but surely, outstripping them in the race; "far too lucky," his detractors growled, when they saw speculations, which had been offered to them and promptly declined, prosper auriferously in John Lorraine's hands.

As soon as John Lorraine saw the tide of fortune strongly setting in, he took to himself a wife, the daughter of one of his city friends, a man of tolerable wealth and great experience, who in his early days had befriended the struggling boy, and who thought his daughter could not have achieved higher honor or greater happiness. Whatever honor or happiness may have accrued to the young lady on her marriage did not last long; for shortly after giving birth to her first child, a daughter, she died, and thenceforward John Lorraine devoted his life to the little girl, and to the increased fortune which she was to inherit. When little Jane had arrived at a more than marriageable age, and from a pretty fubsy baby had grown into a thin, acidulated, opiniated woman (a result attributable to the manner in which she had been spoiled by her indulgent father), John Lorraine's mind was mainly exercised as to what manner of man would propose for her with a likelihood of success. Hitherto, love affairs had been things almost unknown to his Jane; not from any unwillingness on

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her part to make their acquaintance, but principally because, notwithstanding the fortune which it was known she would bring to her husband, none of the few young men who from time to time dined solemnly in the old-fashioned house in Brunswick Square, or acted as cavalier to its mistress to the Ancient Concerts or the King's Theatre, could make up their minds to address her in any thing but the most common phrases. That Miss Jane had a will of her own, and a tart manner of expressing her intention of having that will fulfilled, was also matter of common gossip: stories were current among the clerks at Mincing Lane of the "wigging" which they had heard her administering to her father, when she drove down to fetch him away in her chariot, and when he kept her unduly waiting; the household servants in Brunswick Square had their opinion of Miss Jane's temper; and the tradesmen in the neighborhood looked forward to the entrance of her thin, dark figure into their shops every Tuesday morning, for the performance of settling the books, with fear and trembling.

Old John Lorraine, fully appreciating his daughter's infirmities, though, partly from affection, partly from fear, he never took upon himself to rebuke them, began to think that the fairy prince who was to wake this morally slumbering virgin to a sense of something better, to larger views and higher aims, to domestic happiness and married bliss, would never arrive. He came at last, however, in the person of George Gurwood, a big, broad-shouldered, jovial fellow, who, as a son of another of Lorraine's early friends, had some time previously been admitted as a partner into the house. Everybody liked good-looking, jolly George Gurwood. Lambton Lorraine and Lowther Loiraine, who, though now growing elderly men, had retained their bachelor tastes and habits, and managed to get through a great portion of the income accruing to them from the business, were delighted with his jovial manners, his sporting tendencies, his convivial predilections. When the fact of George's paying his addresses to their niece was first promulgated, Lambton had a serious talk with his genial partner, warning him against tying himself for life to a woman with whom he had no single feeling in common. But George laughed at the caution, and declined to be guided by it. "Miss Lorraine was not much in his line," he said; "perhaps a little given to tea and psalm-smiting, but it would come all right; he should get her into a different way; and as the dear old guv'nor (by which title George always affectionately spoke of his senior partner) "seemed to wish it, he was not going to stand in the way. He wanted a home, and Jane should make him a jolly one; he'd take care of that."

Jane Lorraine married George Gurwood, but she did not make him a home. Her rigid bearing and unyielding temper were too strong for his plastic, pliable nature; for many months the struggle for mastery was carried on between them; but in the end George-jolly George no longer-gave way. He had made a tolerable good fight of it, and had used every means in his power to induce her to be less bitter, less furtive, less inexorable in the matter of his dinings-out, his sporting transactions, his constant desire so see his table surrounded by congenial company. "I have tried to gentle her," he said to Lowther Lorraine one day, "as I would a horse, and there has never been one of them yet that I could not coax and pet into good temper. I'd spend any amount of money on her,