Pope kindly, was mistaken by strangers for ill-nature. If it were not ill-nature, there is no instance on record to prove it amiability. To show how odd the man was, Pope told a story: "One evening Gay and I went to see him. On our coming in, 'Heyday, gentlemen,' says the doctor, 'what's the meaning of this visit? How came you to leave all the great lords that you are so fond of to come hither to see a poor dean?' 'Because we would rather see you than any of them.' 'Ay, any one that did not know you so well as I do might believo you; but since you are come I must get some supper for you, I suppose?' 'No, doctor, we have supped already.' "That's very strange; but if you had not supped I must

have got something for you. Let me see what should I have had-a couple of lobsters? Ah, that would have done very well-two shillings; tarts-a shilling. But you will drink a glass of wine with me, though you supped so much before your usual time only to spare my pocket.’ 'No, we had rather talk with you than drink with you." 'But if you had supped with me, as in all reason you ought to have done, you must have drank with me. A bottle of wine-two shillings. wine-two shillings. Two and two is four, and one is five, just two and sixpence a piece. There, Pope, there's another half-crown for you, sir; for I won't save anything by you I'm determined !'" Being serious, he forced them to take it.

THE CHURCH CLOCK'S SECRET.

NOW, snow, snow! Would it never cease? Down fell the feathery flakes, touching the ground with hushed step, like the footfalls of people in a child's sick-room. I stood in the doorway watching the white earth and black gray sky, and thinking dreamily as we all think at these times.

At last I grew tired, and, shivering, I stole along the corridor, and back into the warm parlor. Slippers tell no tales, and they did not now tell of my presence to two people whispering in the curtained recess but a little distance from where I sat. I had left I had left them there, and, as they had no suspicion of my return, I might, if I chose, listen to what they were saying. It was very certain they were making love, and forty years had passed since I had known personally of that; and I felt my dry old breast would freshen and be the better for what I should hear, if I did not perform the very unnecessary act, strictly speaking, of clearing my throat at this moment. So I sinned by permitting myself to become an eavesdropper. I am a practical, cynical, disagreeable old man, and what they call a pump and a fogy; and that is why I have never been able to make out what Bob Wayne and my little friend Bella Darling meant by conversing in the style that

follows:

"Is dis my 'ittle mouse's nose?" asked Bob, and I was certain he had found a lady somewhere, and was fondling it. "Ess, dat's your 'ittle mouse's nose," returned a voice I instantly recognized as Bella's.

"Does I lubs my 'ittle mouse ?" asked Robert, with much seriousness.

which seized me, and all would have been known. I sauntered over to the window, suffering everything from my stifled hysterics.

Presently Miss Teesdale joined me, and we talked of Christmas.

"How very dreary everything is going to be !" she sighed. "The house is full of people, and yet it is dull as if there was no one here. I am dying for something exciting. Can't you think of means to avoid another mopy evening, Mr. Wix ?"

(Wix, I may explain, is, to my misfortune, the name I call me "Old Candles.") bear. I don't fancy it, because everybody feels bound to

"Charades," I suggested, feebly.

They are too silly. All of us put together haven't wit enough to devise one or two really good ones. What was the fate of the last attempt-your word, you know? Failure, complete and ridiculous. Do you remember how you were made game of as the heavy villain ?”

Pleasant person Miss Teesdale, very. Her candor was considered remarkable and a credit to her. But somehow

plain-speaking never agreed with me. I was decidedly in favor of a change of subject.”

"Robert may be able to think of some means of disposing of Christmas Eve," I said. "Let us ask him."

Miss Teesdale, in her purring fashion, came closer to me, and her voice sank considerably. Never before had I thought the description of her as "the kitten of the house" so just.

"Mr. Wix," she said, softly, "I am going to tell you something. Mr. Wayne is a person I detest.”

Good gracious! I didn't know any one disliked Bob. He is handsome, bright, cheerful, sincere, forgiving, and I can't enumerate what all. You surprise me, Miss Teesdale." "It is true that I never fancied him from the first. To me he is positively ugly."

"But you like Bella, I hope ?"

"Yes-oh, yes, Mr. Wix," she answered, clasping her

"Who is your big mouse ?"

"You is my big mouse, and I 'is your 'ittle mouse."

“Oo ain't anybody else's 'ittle mouse, is oo? All mine?"

"Ess; all my big mouse's.'

'Is diss my 'ittle mouse's mouf ?”

"Ess; and yours, too."

"Den, let me kiss my 'ittle mouse's mouf.

Something pleasant followed, and happily for me (I was in a frightful state of dread), the door opened noisily, and Miss Teesdale entered.

Miss Teesdale, I will say, was a discreet person, and I knew if she found out that I had been listening, she would not expose me. So I rose as if I likewise had just come in ; and as I did so Bob and Bella appeared.

Bob was a great big fellow-a dragoon sort of a built man-and I always before supposed in perfect health. I glanced anxiously at his face to see what traces there were there of the insanity which I now felt possessed him.

But Robert was as grave and practical as granite itself. Bella, however, was evidently just recovering from a blush. “What have you folks been doing ?" asked Miss Teesdale. "You're all very quiet.

"Oh!" said Bob, solemnly, "Ive been giving Bella her lesson in geometry. She asked me a day or two ago to teach her something of problems and those sort of things, and we just finished the subject for to-day as you turned the knob."

"And dull enough it was,” added Bella, yawning. Fortunately I had my pocket-handkerchief at hand. Without it I should have exploded in the fit of laughter

you know."

"I'm glad very glad.”

"But, Mr. Wix, why do you speak of Mr. Wayne and Bella in the one breath ?”

If I could have told her of the mouse dialogue she would have understood my most excellent reason; as it was, this was impossible; so I said, rather lamely, I didn't know. "Forgive me; but I suspect you do. Come now!" "Well, because they are always together, and, I suppose, are lovers.'

"How can my darling think so much of him! Oh, Mr. Wix, it is impossible! They would never be happy if they were to marry. The tyrant is written in Mr. Wayne's face."

"I must declare, Miss Teesdale," I returned, tired of her purring, "that the penmanship there is certainly very fine, though I can't read it as you do. Who is this ?”

It was old Doctor Warfield, Miss Georgie Warfield, Jack Elder, and young Mr. Pauncefort. They came bustling in, and we all crowded around the fire, so much crisp wintry air had come with them.

The room had grown darker, and, without, the dusk was falling with the melancholy snow.

"Bless my soul !" shouted the doctor, rubbing his hands, "here's another Christmas Eve! What shall we do with it, eh?"

'The very question which has agitated me, doctor,” said Miss Teesdale. "Nobody seems capable of a fresh, clever suggestion. Mr. Pauncefort, your brain usually teems with excellent ideas-let us have one now."

It was this young man's infirmity that he could not pronounce the letter S. He made every S an F.

Fifer, rather disappointed at being cut short in his narrative, led the way, clumping down the creaking stairs, and we all followed, shivering. Across the black cellar we took our way, and at length, in the dim glare of the lantern, an immense box, like a coffin on end, loomed up. This opened and disclosed a recess at the touch of the sexton's key, and a door was perceptible to the left.

But in the recess were the works communicating with the clock in the tower. Across an iron beam was written the word "Desvaches," the name of the inventor of this wonderful horologue. I will not attempt any description more elaborate than to say that I beheld, beneath, above and behind this beam, pulleys, wheels, cranks, springs, chains, and a great deal of rope.

Upon a shining dial were nine slender indices, and, at the point of each, the designation of the bell it controlled. The hand directed perpendicularly governed the word "Avalanche."

"Big Tom, sir," said Fifer, touching it; and I of course understood that he had chosen this distinction for the bell above himself. "Three minutes before I wish him to speak, I turn his index forward three degrees."

"I perceive there are sixty degrees, and, consequently, if you wind him at eleven, he strikes at twelve," said Doctor Warfield. "Quite interesting, Fifer. The number of his strokes is, of course, regulated by the machinery about us." "Has he a very loud tone to one standing close ?" asked Miss Teesdale.

Miss," said Fifer, emphatically, "to hear him a-standin' two feet off would bust the drum o' your ear. That deaf boy as plays about here lost his hearing by big Tom. Pigeons, you know," added Fifer, briefly. "Skittles would break his neck at squabs.

"You will wind now ?" asked Bob, to whom Bella still clung, her great bright eyes shining in the glare of the lantern, and her pretty face all aglow.

"Ay, sir; may as well. And come back to touch off at quarter to midnight."

Fifer set down his lantern, and took off his bunch of keys,

First he unlocked a cabinet in the corner, and brought out two cylinders. These he placed in the machinery somewhere, and then he went behind, and presently was heard winding, winding, winding, until the heavy, laboring, discordant noise produced became almost intolerable. Finally, he reappeared, out of breath.

"Warms you up, that does !" he said.

"When does Mass begin ?" asked Bella. "We must stay for that."

"Nigh upon midnight. So when the 'Gloria in Excelsis' comes, miss, the chimes will play, and Big Tom chant his Hymn to Christmas."

Fifer took off his cap, and bent his head with a rude reverence that was quite notable.

"Now, Fifer," said the doctor, "as we have seen everything here, let us go up to the home of the bells.”

Ready, sir," answered the sexton, picking up his light. "This way.

He opened the tall, gaunt door to the left, and we found ourselves at the foot of a spiral stairway.

"The tower steps. We reach the gallery, and then the steeple."

We all began to shudder again. The teeth of the ladies clicked like magic dice.

"Oh, I am getting so frightened !" whispered Georgie. Something is going to happen, I know!"

"Be calm, deareft," answered Mr. Pauncefort. weally no caufe for feriouf alarm."

"There if

'Rats, miss. Don't be afeard," he replied, looking at us over the iron banisters, and guiding us by the light.

We quieted down, and began our tedious march. Up, up, up we went, our shadows falling on the cold walls, our tread re-echoing above and below, the wind sweeping past with a lonely moan, and the cold chilling us to the bone.

At last we reached the narrow gallery. In silence we crossed this, and, with a few yards more accomplished, we had gained the tower. The nine mute, icy bells hung about us-the Avalanche, in solitary majesty, above all the rest. We stood awed. Without, the blasts of Winter howled, the snow poured down, the night spoke in its thousand mystical voices; but here all was still, except the patient, relentless clock, which toiled on, and ticked the fleeting moments one by one into unknown eternity.