element of the poet's nature when in working, effective order exceptional life and spirits. Nobody writes verse for his own pleasure, or even relief, without the barometer of his spirits being on the rise. They are tokens of that abiding youthfulness which never leaves him while he can write a living line. The poet, we need not say, is forever sighing over the youth that is past and gone, not taking note of the youth that remains to him, altogether independent of years. But, in fact, he is a boy all his life, capable of finding amusement in matters which the plodding man of the world considers puerile, and so conferring on his readers and lovers some share of his own spring, some taste of the freshness which helps to keep the world alive. DRIFTING AWAY. "Gor your sailing orders, mister, have you? Well, it never hurts a young chap to see something of the world, I guess, and cut his eye-teeth. All the same we'll miss you a bit, Master Cyril, for we had all got to look upon you as one of the family;" said a gruff but kindly voice, that had retained its salt-water smack, after a quarter of a century passed out of sight of that sea on which its owner had spent his best years. "Yes, Dixon," I replied. "I must go to-morrow, or, at latest, the day after, to catch the packet for Europe, and bid farewell, for some years, to all old friends and home associations. I shall often think, when abroad, of my pleasant visit to Wisconsin, and how you and honest Nick, yonder, taught me to handle oar and paddle, rifle and fishspear, to back a mustang and to manage a canoe, and many another accomplishment of prairie life, strange to a citybred stripling like myself." “A right smart learner we had in you, sir, I will say that, though Ben Dixon never was much given to palaver; but I was proud of my pupil, and so was Nick, here, for that matter;"growled out the old man-of-war's-man, while his less talkative Indian comrade, who sat smoking in a corner of the hut, picturesquely draped in his scarlet blanket, took the pipe from his lips to utter a guttural ejaculation of assent. Both of these men were in the employment of a maternal relative of mine, long resident at St. Anthony, on the upper waters of the Mississippi. I, myself, Cyril Harding by name, was then a lad of seventeen, and was about, at my father's desire, to start for Europe, where it was intended that I should remain long enough to perfect myself in foreign languages, as well as to acquire a thorough insight into the business methods of the mercantile house in which I was to be placed. My father, a widower, and a New York merchant, much absorbed in his affairs, had consented to my accepting the invitation to pay a long visit to my Western cousin, Mr. Lowe, the rather that it was believed that my health would benefit by the pure air and hardy outdoor habits of the Prairie State, and I had passed many happy months at St. Anthony. And now, strong, active and sunburned, I was suddenly called on to leave my holiday life of exercise and sport, and commence my novitiate at the desk. A vacancy had been found for me in a great Bordeaux house of business, and I was to sail at once. In spite of the natural love for change and the inquisitive eagerness to see the world, which a very young man almost always feels, it was with regret that I made up my mind to part from the kind relatives whose hospitality I had long enjoyed, and they, also, were sorry that my sojourn beneath their roof should come to a close. Mr. and Mrs. Lowe were, both of them, of genial and generous dispositions, and the affection which I had learned to entertain for them was reciprocated. Little Frank, with whom I was an especial favorite, cried piteously at the news of my impending departure, and, indeed, there was only one member of the family who expressed no grief at the prospect of losing sight of the New York cousin, so long domiciled among them. This was Lily Lowe, the only daughter, a singularly pretty and gracefal child, over whose golden head some eleven summers had passed. i Lily, instead of seeking my society, had always seemed shun it, much to my annoyance, for I was partial to ch dren, and generally popular among them. She was, ho ever, excessively fond of her younger brother; and sing Frank was a pet and playmate of mine, I frequently to out both the children on some boating excursion on the river or the neighboring creeks. For aquatic amusemens in fact, there were great facilities, since Mr. Lowe was the owner of a miniature flotilla of sloops, broadhorns, boa and canoes, in which, at the proper seasons, the agricultur produce of the fertile prairie farms was transported sou wards. It was the eve of my departure, and had I been able t consult my own wishes, I should have spent the whole da with my relatives. I had, however, engaged myself dine with a neighbor, one Colonel Baker, who had sho me much attention since I had stayed in Wisconsin, and could not, without offence to the kind old man, refuse partake of his hospitality. It was bright moonlight wi I started, on horseback, to return to Lowe's Flat, as kinsman's residence was called. It was a long ride home wards, across the springy turf of the prairie; but my w little steed went fast and well, and the gallop was i pleasant one, and quickly performed. Presently I cont see the Mississippi shining like a silver ribbon in the moonbeams, and the house, with its garden, its orchard shade-trees, and out-buildings, the huts of the laborers, the woodpile, and the boats moored to the river-bank. I to start on the morrow, and it was for the last time fr some years to come - perhaps forever! that I should look upon that peaceful scene. Half mechanically, I dre my rein, and checking my horse, gazed musingly on the calm prospect before me. As I did so, I was surprised t see a white figure glide from amidst the blossomed shrub of the well-tended garden, pass through the wicket-gate and move onwards in the direction of the river. Ha doubtful whether I might not be the dupe of some optical illusion, or of my own fancy, I rubbed my eyes, and the again looked earnestly towards the spot where I had last beheld this unaccountable apparition. Yes, there was the white figure sure enough, gliding on, slowly but steadily, towards the river. It was no dream - no hallucination yet what could its presence at this untimely hour portend At this instant my horse, impatient at being thus kept from the stable and the corn bin, neighed loud and shrilly, but the sound did not seem to reach the ears of the person of whom I was gazing, for there was no start and no pause. but always and ever the same steady gliding motion, rive wards. Who would be likely to be abroad at such a hour? Then, too, the low stature forbade the notion tha the ghostly-looking form before me could be that of one of the negroes or white field-hands employed about the place. A child, rather; but why in the name of common sense. should a child be astray at such a time of the night? And then there rose up in my mind a vague suspicion that some one might have planned a trick, a mock apparition to text my courage or credulity, and that it behoved me to unmask the deception. I dismounted, and fastening my horse's bridle to the nearest snake-fence, I made my way on foot swiftly but cautiously towards the place where I had last seen the white figure. It had disappeared, but on emerging from amidst the trees I beheld a sight which froze my blood with speechless horror. The child, Lily my beautiful little cousin - Lily Lowe - I knew her, now, with the lustre of the moonbeams full upon the golden locks that hung down upon her shoulders, and half concealed her face. She wore a white wrapper, but I noticed with a thrill of surprise that her small feet were quite bare, and that there was something spectral in the noiseless tread with which she advanced. She was close, now, to the place where, at a sort of wharf, rudely constructed of un barked logs, the boats were moored. What, in Heaven's name, was she doing? Surely, surely, she could not intend to cast off the lashings by which yonder light cano is attached to the bank: Yes, such is indeed the case, and now - Oh, stop, cousin - Lily, stop!" I shouted ncy. ese words aloud, and darted forward as I did so, for to y amazement the young girl had actually stepped into e canoe, grasped the paddle, and was apparently pushg off the frail craft from the bank into the stream. To y horror, loudly as I had uplifted my voice, she to whom was addressed did not hear or heed. And then there ished upon me, with overpowering force, the consciousess of the true horror of the situation. There was no istaking that strange glassy look, that dreamy carriage the head, the half-helpless action of the hands that held e paddle. It was evident that Lily had been walking in er sleep, that she was, for the time, but dimly alive to the istence of surrounding objects, deaf to the outcry of my arning voice, the mere passive slave of her own unhealthy I had scanty time for doubt or for deliberation, for ready the canoe was speeding past, impelled by the quick sh of the current. What was to be done? The stream the Mississippi, swollen by the rains which had fallen avily in those more northerly regions where its feeders ve their rise, was by far too strong to be coped with by e feeble arm of a girl of Lily's years, even had she been much more competent to wield the paddle than was the se. And the weak strokes which she gave as she slowly lanced the polished piece of tough birchwood were actlly calculated to assist, not to stem, the force of the rious river. Even now, I could hear the low menacing ar of the Falls below the Falls of St. Anthony which ere but at a short distance, while my blood ran cold at e thought that if she once drifted thus far, human help uld not avail to preserve Lily's young life from inevitable estruction. There was something piteous in the sight, as, I unconscious of her peril, she floated off in her frail bark, adually nearing the middle of the swollen river. Hesitation at such a crisis would be fatal. There was o time to awake the slumbering tenants of the huts, and › procure aid. Whatever was to be done had to be effected y myself alone. But what could I do? There were the rge sailing boats, technically known as broadhorns, close thand, but at least two men are required to manage these lumsy craft, while the only light skiff had sustained some jury the week before, in striking on a submerged tree bove the rapids, and was now under repair. Yet the only ope of saving Lily, who was fast receding from my sight, was to overtake her before her fragile bark should be aught in the arrow-swift current that narrows as it nears he Falls. In the hurry and excitement of the moment I prang into the nearest and smallest of the broadhorns, cast off the mooring rope, spread the sail, and thrust off the arge boat from the shore, and then started in pursuit. Well I knew that the venture was a desperate one, as, the sheet firmly grasped in one hand, while the other held the iller, I went quickly down the river before the brisk breeze. At any instant a squall of wind, such as is not unfrequent in that latitude, might either capsize the broadhorn or cause her to ground upon a shoal, since my single strength was insufficient for the proper handling of such a craft. Then, too, should I become involved in the rapids; nothing, clearly, could prevent the boat from going stem on over the Falls. There was but one chance to come up with the canoe before safety became impossible. Fortunately, the favorable wind blew steadily from the north, without flaw or shift, and presently I saw with satisfaction that I was coming up with the canoe. Lily had ceased to paddle, and sat motionless, her blue eyes gazing forth, it seemed to be, on vacancy; while her golden hair flattered in the breeze, and her white wrapper bore, in the himmering moonlight, a weird resemblance to a shroud. Very near, now, were the dreaded Falls. Their sullen roar was louder, more threatening, than before, and I could see the glancing cloud of spray that rose from beneath, and the foam on the lip of the cascade, and the crumbling, waterworn islets, with their willows and mimosas trembling in the rush and boom of the Falls. The boat was now close to the canoe; and, with a dexterity and coolness that astonished myself, I made fast the end of the sheet to the thwart nearest me, steered as near as I dared to the little bark of Indian construction, and, scrambling into it with the cautious heedfulness which is never more needed than where a canoe is in question, gently took the paddle from Lily's passive hand. As if my touch had had some magic in it, the child awoke from her rapt stupor, gazed wildly, half incredulously, as I thought, around her, and then, with a wild scream of agonized terror, crouched down in the canoe and clung to my knees calling on me to save her. What struck me, too, even then, was that she used, in addressing me, for the first time, my Christian name. She had never before spoken to me otherwise than as "Mr. Harding," in spite of the playful chiding of parents and brother. Now, it was "Cyril, dear Cyril." But this I set down to the anguish of her present terror, for the moment was one of deadly peril. Already the canoe was being whirled around, like a floating chip, by the strong eddies, and it was only by the most sustained exertions that I could paddle it inshore. At last, however, I luckily got near enough to grasp the tough bough of a willow, and drawing the canoe up to the trunk of the tree, I lashed it firmly to a projecting root, and lifting Lily to the bank above, swung myself up, and stood in safety by her side. As I did so, the child pointed with a trembling hand down the river. I looked, and was just in time to see the broadhorn, the sail still set, go headlong to destruction over the Falls. Then Lily covered her face and burst into an agony of hysterical tears, which baffled all my efforts to soothe her, and it was all that I could do to bring the poor child safely back to her home, and consign her, still wildly weeping, to her mother's care. I prefer to pass over the scene that ensued. Suffice it that the alarm as to Lily's direful danger, and the thankfulness to Providence for her safety, on the part of the child's fond parents, were deep and earnest. Nor were they less grateful to myself, her youthful rescuer, for the service I had had it in my power to render, in preserving to them, as the mother said, their lost lamb. But my hours at St. Anthony were numbered. I started, on the day that followed that memorable night, for New York, and for the shores of the Old World, and, as had previously been planned, spent some years, and those busy ones, in Europe. I am afraid that new occupations and new companions in a measure weaned my thoughts from the recollection of my kindly friends in the West, and that my correspondence with the Lowes was but fitful and occasional. I heard, however, with regret, that poor little Lily's nocturnal adventure had been succeeded by the risk and delirium of a fever, from which, as I afterwards learned, her recovery was slow and tedious. It must, I fancied, have been on her account that the family more frequently left their home for change of air than had previously been usual with them, and that I heard of them at Saratoga, at Newport, and at other places of fashionable resort. Once, too, a traveller from Wisconsin was warm in his praise of Lily's budding beauty, and predicted a brilliant marriage for her, but to my imagination she still remained the child whom I had saved from drowning. I had left America as a stripling, but when I recrossed the Atlantic it was as a grown man, who had served his novitiate in business matters, and who was now summoned back to take the principal part in the management of our New York firm, since my father's failing health no longer permitted of his active supervision of the mercantile house which was in future to be known as that of Harding and Son. Before, however, going steadily into commercial harness, I devoted some months to visiting the most remarkable cities and scenery in the South and West, and had promised, at my relative's urgent invitation, to spend at any rate a week or two with my former entertainers, the Lowes, in Wisconsin. The hospitable family received me with even more than their old kindness, but there was one surprise which awaited me at St. Anthony, that impressed me more than anything else that I had seen since my return to my native shores. I found Lily — whose image had never recurred to me save as that of a child grown into a beautiful young woman, the most beautiful, as it seemed to me, that I had ever seen. There was, indeed, nothing por tentous in this, for there had been time enough for the bud to expand into the flower, and Lily's charming face had given early promise of the rare loveliness which now dazzled me. I could scarcely bring myself to believe that this graceful and highly-bred girl, so accomplished, so self-possessed, and so much admired could ever have been the shrinking little creature whom I had saved from drowning. I heard incidentally that she was accounted, justly enough, one of the prettiest girls in the Prairie State, where beauty is yet plentiful enough, and that it was not for want of attentive cavaliers or of offers of marriage from citizens of high position that she was not at the head of some sumptuous establishment. That I fell in love, at first sight, so to speak, with my cousin Lily, I am not ashamed to own. Never before, or so I thought, had I beheld such rare loveliness as hers, while the expression of her sweet pure face, and the evident pride and affection which her kindred and the dependants of the household entertained for her, proved that she had other excellences than that of mere beauty. I regretted, however, to find that in one respect she was unaltered. Her manner towards myself was, as of old, constrained and cold, nor did she manifest any particular pleasure at seeing me again. In fact the frigid indifference of her bearing towards me was only tempered by the requirements of politeness towards a visitor, nor did her eyes rest on my face with any interest in their expression. After all, why should she care for me? The service I had once had the good luck to do for her she had probably almost forgotten. No doubt the memory of that night had long since been effaced from the recollection of the queenly belle of so many ball-rooms. Yet I was unreasonable enough to feel hurt and piqued that this should be the case. However, if Lily did not care for seeing her old friend again, her parents and her brother, now grown to be a bold, frank-spoken lad, killed, metaphorically, the fatted calf to do me honor, and on the very day of my return they gave a picnic party to which the more intimate of their neighbors were invited, at those very Falls of St. Anthony that had so nearly, on the occasion of my last visit, been the scene of a tragic incident. Mr. and Mrs. Lowe repeatedly referred to the past, cordially praising me for the courage and presence of mind which I had exhibited in so difficult a dilemma. The guests swelled the chorus of eulogy, but Miss Lowe remained to all appearance frigidly indifferent to the entire subject. Later on there was some conversation as to my European experiences, and some one, on the strength of a rumor derived from the gossip of some passing tourist, coupled my name with that of a French heiress, a well-known beauty of Bordeaux, whom I only knew as a partner in a round dance, but to whom it was confidently assumed that I was to be married. I disclaimed the imputation, laughingly at first, more earnestly afterwards, and at last-I knew not why, with somewhat of irritation. And as I begged, flushing as I spoke, to hear no more silly jests concerning myself and Mademoiselle Cornélie Boncrů, I saw Lily's eyes fixed on me with an expression which I could not fathom, but as her glance met mine, it was instantly withdrawn. We did not exchange a word more during the remainder of that day, but when night came, and it was time to retire to repose, I could not sleep, but sat long at the open window of my chamber, looking forth across the magnolias and rose-bushes of the garden, to where the broad bright moonlight silvered the turf of the grassy path beyond. How had all things altered with me since the last night when I had thus seen it, the night of Lily's rescue! How changed was Lily herself, and yet into how lovely a girl had my child-cousin developed! What a pity that her old aversion for myself, her old coldness towards me, remained as they had been when, in her early youth, she showed herself so unwilling to be my companion! Why had I been foolish enough to return to St. Anthony, and to entangle my own heart, alas! in the mazes of a passion which I felt was hopeless? However, one thing I determined. In a day, or two days at farthest, no matter on what pretext, I would leave Wisconsin, thus tearing my - self away from-Ha! What was that? Doubtless, it a Pucklike trick of my own heated fancy, which made m think that I saw, skirting the fence, and emerging from shade of the cottonwood, a white, ghostlike outline d female form, the golden hair gleaming in the opal me light. No, this was no delusion. Lily Lowe- and other she whose childish footsteps I had tracked of oldgrown to be a woman now, but gliding, with noiseless trea riverwards, as on that other night. Hardly taking time i think, I left my room, hurried down-stairs, and in a mome more was in the garden. I passed through the wicke reached the grass-grown path beneath the fitful sha of the poplars, strained my eyes in the vain endeavor catch sight of the vanished figure, and began to feel heart ashamed of being the dupe of my own excited imaginatia After all, how could it be reasonable to attribute to yo graceful and admired maiden, the remembrance of wh proud glance yet haunted me, the capricious fancies of sickly child? I had made up my mind to return to th house, when suddenly I caught a glimpse of someth white, far off, on the very bank of the river. A fema form, presumably that of Lily, and close, to the best of remembrance, to the spot, whence, years ago, I had sea the child cast loose the canoe from its moorings. I ran forward at my fullest speed, and on reaching bank, beheld a sight which caused, for the moment, my ver heart to cease beating. A light birchen canoe, either ta same, or of identical construction, with that of Lily's ear adventure, was drifting slowly down the river. The wa in the Mississippi, which had dwindled under the influe of months of hot weather, was by far lower than on previous occasion, and the progress of the frail craft wa less rapid than of old, but still it was borne on, helples by the current, while still, at some distance, rose up hoarse and hollow murmur of the Falls. In the ca stood the figure of a young girl whom I could not doubt t be Lily. She wore the same light-colored dress which had seen her wear at the picnic party, but her hair floste loose over her shoulders, in all its golden luxuriance. He face I could not see, but she held the paddle, unused, in one listless hand, while the other one hung idle by her side No doubt existed in my mind but that it was again on a somnambulist that my eyes rested, and this was the more singular because “No, no. Quite cured, thank Heaven!" had been Mrs. Lowe's reply to my half-careless inquiry on arriving, as to her daughter's dangerous habit. But Lily it was who was before me, drifting down, surely and smoothly, to meet her death, even as had been the case on that other night so long ago. And how, since fate had made me again an eye-witness of the act, should save her? To summon aid would be to waste the precious moments. Before the men who inhabited the huts could be astir, it would be but a lifeless form that their exertions could drag from among the rocks and pools below. Again I must rely on myself, and myself alone, and accordingly I bounded to the rude wharf, and sought, with haggard eyes, for a boat which would serve my purpose. The rule however, that no two sets of circumstances are exactly alike, in this case held good, for, excepting a waterlogged scow, wholly useless, and the unlucky canoe in which Lily had embarked, there was not one craft that was not secured by stout mooring chains and strong padlocks that defied my feverish efforts. With bruised and bleeding fingers desisted from the futile attempt to force the fastenings, and ran swiftly down the bank, calling out, loudly to Lily to awake and become conscious of her direful peril. But I might as well have addressed my words of warning to a marble statue. Once or twice, I fancied that the girl slightly shivered, but she kept her face averted, and was evidently still under the fatal influence of the trance. What was I to do? The Falls were near now; their hoarse roar was like that of a wild beast, hungry, and ex already the canoe had begun to dance and quiver on the pectant of its prey, while low as was the water in the river, tiny whirlpools and foam-flecked eddies above the smooth, swift channel of the rapids. Once caught in these, no boat, even were it manned by strong rowers, could avoid oting the perilous Falls. I was a good swimmer, and ce I was on the point of plunging into the river, but the ection that the canoe would probably be upset, and Lily wned, in my vain attempt to tow it to land, restrained . Meanwhile the canoe had reached the rapids, and s darting on, like an arrow. It was by an exertion that erely tried my strength that I was the first to gain the lls. There, on the brink of the rush of waters, I halted, ping, and saw the canoe come hurrying down on the y to its destruction, the fairy figure that was its sole ocpant still standing motionless, unheedful of my voice or the threatening boom of the cataract. There are supreme moments in our lives when we appear act and think simultaneously. This was one of them; , with a bound that afterwards astonished myself, I ared a stretch of frothing water, sprang, or scrambled, m stone to stone, and at last reached a sandy islet, a re mound, crumbling away under the action of the flood; It the scanty earth of which adhered to the roots of a ge old willow tree, the weeping branches of which had obably dipped their silvery leaves in the turbid water, fore a white man had ever beheld the upper course of the ississippi. I threw my arm around a mighty bough of this 1 tree, and, bending till I touched the water, awaited the coming of the canoe. My first grasp failed; but, by other and more desperate effort, I contrived to lay hold the gunwale as it was washed past me. The events the next few seconds I have never been able to recall, herwise than as a confused recollection, like the incoerent memory of a dream. That the impetus of the rifting canoe was too much for my single strength to ithstand, that I was half submerged beneath the foaming ood, and might have been torn from my saving hold, I now or guess. That Lily awoke, with a smothered, wailing ry as the slight bark heeled over, and that we were both in he river, and in no small danger of being sucked over the alls to certain death, I also remember, but more vaguely. My memory chronicles more accurately, the moment when, vet and drenched with water, I placed the rescued girl on he mossy mound at the foot of the willow tree, with my rm encircling her slender waist, and soothed her terror as the leant sobbing, against my shoulder. 66 Again! again! she exclaimed, as if in self-reproach. "For the second time have you snatched me, cousin, from the very jaws of death-me, the ungrateful one, so cold, so proud, so hard! Oh, Cyril, dearest, how you must have hated me, to give you such a welcome as I did?" I thought that her mind was wandering, that she knew not what she said, and strove to calm her; but it was to no purpose. The barrier of conventional restraint, of icy decorum, was broken, and she continued to take blame to herself for what she called her heartless treatment of myself. "Hush, hush, dear Miss Lowe," I said, embarrassed by her emotion; "you think too much of what I did for you, and which any man in my place would have gladly done. I own I was a little disappointed when you seemed to have forgotten me, and" - "Can you not guess the reason? she asked, half impatiently. I could not. "That French lady at Bordeaux they told me, as a fact, that you were about to be married to her, and speedily, so I-I-in my foolish, wicked pride" It was now my turn to interrupt. Surely," said I, my heart wildly throbbing, "surely your words would imply that you did care for me a little, Lily?" By this time torches were to be seen, and men's shouting voices heard, along the river-bank. My calls had been heard, and aid was at hand; so that we need not, as I had thought probable, await morning for our deliverance from our uncomfortable perch upon the spray-washed islet. But Lily seemed to care nothing for the torches or the shouts of those who hurried up. "Blind!" she murmured, with a sweet reproachfulness, "not to perceive that, even as a child, I loved you; that my cold manner, my reserve, all sprang from my deep, true fondness for one who regarded me merely as a cousin, and who would have died sooner than make this confession, but that but that I thought I saw that you loved me, Cyril." And I clasped my pricemy heart. less treasure to My tale has been told. Lily has never again been guilty of sleep-walking, of which habit her family had believed her to be fully cured, as, indeed seemed to have been the case, until my return; and the picnic awakened associations in her memory which had, for the second time, all but proved fatal in their consequences. There is no Miss Lowe now to be the belle of Wisconsin ball-rooms; but no man has a truer or more beautiful wife than has blessed the lot of Cyril Harding. M. GOUFFÉ ON PASTRY AND CONFECTIONERY.1 INSTANCES of brothers attaining to eminence in the same pursuits are sufficiently uncommon to merit more than merely passing attention. In modern times, indeed, they have been so rare that they may almost be counted on the fingers of one hand, and are nearly all of them in everybody's memory. There were, for example, the Scotts, Lord Eldon and Lord Stowell, the Sumners, Archbishop of Canterbury and Bishop of Winchester, "les trois Dupins," Horace and James Smith, the Napiers, and one or two others perhaps. But to any complete list in future it is clear that the names of MM. Jules and Alphonse Gouffé will have to be added. It may be admitted that their several claims to distinction appear, on a cursory glance, to be somewhat different in degree although similar in kind. M. Jules, we infer, has mastered and practised his art in all its wide and varied departments. He is author of the "Livre de Cuisine as well as of the "Livre de Patisserie." M. Alphonse, on the contrary, seems to have restricted his energies, if not his attention, to the lighter and more ornamental branches of his profession. M. Alphonse, too, is only the translator and interpreter of his brother, while M. Jules is an author of original and versatile ability. But, then, M. Jules is merely chef de cuisine of the Paris Jockey Club; doubtless an honorable and lucrative position; still one which can scarcely be regarded as of equal importance to the office of M. Alphonse, who is head pastry-cook to the Queen. On the whole, therefore, we have come to the conclusion that, although M. Jules is superior to M. Alphonse touching his works, yet that M. Alphonse is superior to M. Jules touching his dignity; and that, the deficiency of the one being balanced by the M. Alphonse to celebrity are neither greater nor less, but superfluity of the other, the pretensions of M. Jules and co-equal. Having settled this preliminary question, we may pause for a moment to determine the nature and mutual relations of the functions discharged by M. Jules and M. Alphonse respectively. M. Jules is a cook, M. Alphonse is a pastry-cook; M. Jules deals for the most part with stern and substantial facts, manipulates, flavors, and adorns them, but leaves them as he found them, stern and substantial facts. M. Alphonse avowedly directs his efforts to fiction founded on fact. Dr. King implies as much in his" Art of Cookery " when he says:— Poets and pastry-cooks will be the same, But then he would not on this ground, had he lived in our days at least, have compared the pastry-cook to the poet. If we may say so without offence to the MM. Gouffé, it seems to us that, while the cook should be likened to the historian, the pastry-cook resembles not so much the poet as the historical novelist. The cook supplies matter for grave discussion and serious digestion. The pastry-cook selects matter with which the cook may equally deal, but treats it in a different way, and in such wise as to occupy our lighter moments, re-stimulate our taste, and animate our imagination. But then again we would not be under 1 The Royal Book of Pastry and Confectionery (Le Livre de Patisserie). By Jules Gouffe, Chef de Cuisine of the Paris Jockey Club. Translated from the French and adapted to English Use by Alphonse Gouffe, Head pastry-cook to her Majesty the Queen. 1874. 66 Yes, that would be a good excuse for beginning. But I think we ought to give one every year for the future." I groaned in spirit and said, "Pray let us get safely over this before we talk of any more. I confess I think the whole notion absurd - the expense, the trouble, the probability of a break-down with such servants as ours. But I suppose you must have your way." Accordingly, in the morning my wife and two daughters formed themselves into a permanent committee of ways and means. They decided that things could not possibly be got ready under a month, and for the whole of that time we were in a state of disturbance. First, it was found out that the drawing-room curtains were old and shabby, and we must have new ones; then, that the dining-room carpet did not suit the furniture -" and you would not wish people to think we have no taste, dear?" said my wife. Now, it was my old book-case that had to be shoved into an unobtrusive corner, where I had to go and hunt for my papers in the dark; next, one nearly broke one's neck over a new music-stand which had arrived that morning and been left in the passage, "only just for a minute till the carpet was put down;" then if any friend came in there was scarcely a single place where one could sit down. In a word, all our quiet, homely, comfortable ways were at an end; and what with upholsterers, carpenters, piano-tuners, and others, it was just as bad as if we were flitting." I was heartily glad, therefore, when they at last declared themselves ready to send out "the invitations." Then the consultations there were about the day and what people we were to ask! Mr. Disraeli, forming a new cabinet for the government of a fourth part of the world, could not have pondered each name for a longer time, or more anxiously, and I am sure he would not have looked half so gravely important over it. For my part, I watched the proceedings with an amused eye, for my opinion, like an eminent physician's, was only taken as a very last resource. The first name written down in "all the lists" was of course Fred Kelly's, - to catch whom (in plain English), our party was given. I never could quite understand how this young Kelly, who was in the Civil Service, contrived to make so many mothers and daughters run after him. Perhaps (as quantity is often preferred to quality) it was only because there was so much of him, for he stood over six feet; but then he was as thin as a lath, and nearly as white, with feeble attempts at the "straw-colored moustache and hay-colored beard," that Thackeray speaks of. More probably the reason was that he had in perfection the cool Ojibbeway manner of the man about town. that affectation of stony indifference which passes for the height of fashion in all except the best circles, where people can dare to be natural. He was never genial-never animated- never even interested: indeed, to my mind, he was more like a machine that had been taught to talk a little, than a man; because, to save himself trouble, he seemed to have a pet phrase for everything. All persons below the Civil Service were "Haw, those cads " the depth of his reprobation was " Not good form, you know' -the height of his approval was expressed by "Tol-lol," meaning "tolerable;" though once I certainly heard him go so far as to call a thing "rather jolly." My younger daughter, Patty, who is very observant, used to laugh and say that Kelly was very wise to be lackadaisical about everything, because, as he knew so little, and had no feelings and no ideas, if he was not lackadaisical he would be nothing. And from a pretty long acquaintance with him, I can safely say that, if he had any ideas, he was always admirably successful in concealing them. In a word, he was quite the hero of certain modern novelists; and the very difficulty of thawing this fashionable icicle made Molly and several other young ladies attempt the enterprise. But as yet the icicle remained an icicle, and would melt to no warmth they could apply. Next after Kelly in our common list came the names of the Vyners - father, mother, and two daughters — without whose eyes to observe our success in securing Fred, the triumph would scarcely have been complete. Al rich people of our acquaintance followed; sing enough, there was not a shadow of doubt about a these, nor about that tawny young idiot Northcoat knew the younger son of a lord. Two budding barrin from the Temple were also passed nem. moved in such good society." I suggested asking Prince and Princess of Wales, but found my little još ceived (for the first time, I must confess) with ch silence, as the awful gravity of the occasion required. 66 con. There was also a charming unanimity about asking of our less important acquaintance. Thus poor Miss ham was asked, because she was so good-natured. never objected to play any quantity of dance-m Then Tomlins could carve, and Vickers talks so Mrs. Grubbins, too, and the three Miss Grubbinses, w be mortally offended if they were left out so "there no help for it, we must have them." Other names caused more discussion. I was obstion when I found my wife and Molly were positively thin of leaving out my old school-fellow, Dick Wotherspo the best of good fellows, only rather rough in his man as most of these enthusiastic artists are. It was not, ever, on this account so much that my wife disliked as the fact that, though over thirty, he seemed to be ing no headway at all in life, and was himself beginning think he had mistaken his profession. Indeed, he wa poor that I had frequently lent him a five-pound note. I now overruled my wife's objections to him and insi on his being invited. With his name our list of fortywas complete, that number being ten or fifteen people c than our rooms would really hold; but then, as my said "They would be sure, some of them, to be engage and so we might as well have the credit of inviting all as not." To be in proper form, we gave a ten days' invitati and the interval was ruled over by the milliners. Fr morning to night there was nothing but consultations a blonde and muslin, mauve and magenta, or critical ex ination of patterns, or fittings on." For my part, I dertook to look after the tea, supper, and attendance, all of which it was absolutely necessary to contract, st we only kept a fat maid-servant of twenty (whom my on the strength of being able to boil potatoes hard and r duce mutton chops to cinders, dignified with the name "cook "), and one little slut of thirteen, scarcely able a lift a slop-pail, whom we called our "housemaid." I must say I never felt myself in such a ludicrously me position as I did when I was bargaining with the unctuos upholsterer in the next street for a stylish supper on hired dishes, to be handed round by three imitation footmen, be ing the upholsterer's assistants. The whole thing did see such a sham, like playing the peacock with borrowed feathers. The all-important night arrived at last, and the fever d expectation and anxiety which had held my woman-kina all the month reached its height. Long shall I be in forgetting the preparations and fuss of that dreary evening,- the hurried tea, the laborious dressing, the solemn single knock of the upholsterer's mer like the undertaker bringing a coffin; the frantic appeas to Sarah to "come and fasten me;" the rustle of skirts in the passages; the flying about of distracted cook and housemaid; the staid, methodical movements of the long visaged waiters. But as the clock struck the fatal hour of nine we were all assembled in state ready for the first comer, my wife buttoning her white kid gloves, and still red in the face with her nervousness and exertions. As a proof that her exertions had been attended with some suc cess, I may state that I overheard one of our young barris ters telling Northcoat," She looked a very handsome Dutch Venus indeed." I had scarcely taken my place on the hearth-rug when a loud rantan at the door and a hearty voice in the passage announced the first arrival. "Mr. Wotherspoon!" whis pered my wife to me with a touch of annoyance in her tone; “he at any rate takes care to be punctual — knows no bet |
