Oh!

Charles. Really, father, you must stay here. You are too sensible to believe in ghosts, and your's was the hand that guided me to the property.

Mr. Viking. Don't talk of hands, Charles. I am not so strong as I was, and I can't recover the shock that extraordinary story gave me.

Mrs. Viking (sotto voice).-Why do you two persist in looking so gloomy and talking to each other? You can't tell what may be thought, and I saw Mrs. Sillibus eying you very narrowly just now.

Clara.-Those were happy times, indeed, Mr. Littlemore. Do you remember telling me how enchanted you had been with Elsie Dawes and her guitar.

Littlemore Ah!-Dear me how clumsy I am to have upset that glass of wine! -Let me see-Elsie Dawes? She is the girl I have lately heard something talked about, isn't she? -Village romance, elopement, son of rich farmer desperately in love, also disappeare 1, strange coincidence, eh?

Littlemore. Pardon, but I simply cannot call you Miss Viking any longer; so if you won't allow me to call you Clara, I shall have to remain silent, or, worse fate still, I shall be forced to become conversationally faithful to Miss. Doting. Spare me at least from this latter fate.

Clara.-Indeed, Mr. Littlemore, you are always so kind to me that I cannot be churlish. You are Charles's oldest friend, so I ought not to mind you calling me whatever name you please.

For some time past Mr. Sillibus had borne his share in the conversation with increasing difficulty, since at every other moment, on looking up, he caught his wife in the act of making mysterious signs to him, the vehemence of which grew rapidly stronger. He could not for the life of him understand the meaning of the awful cabala, and he felt proportionally melancholy as he described the increasing stoniness of his good lady's glare, and yet felt himself as far off as ever from a solution of her signalled commands. At length, however, a brilliant inspiration occured to him. He selected a splendid nectarine from a dish in front of him, and then rising quietly he slipped round to the back of Mrs. Sillibus's chair, and presenting the fruit, said aloud

"Let me, my love, prevail on you to taste this magnificent nectarine,' adding in an undertone-"I don't quite understand you, dear."

"Thank you, dearest! how very thoughtful!" was the worthy lady's reply for public ear. Then, in a whisper, which made the person uncomfortably cold, "You are getting quite stupid, Sillibus! Propose the host's health!"

Her husband went back to his

To

seat a wiser and a sadder man. preach with Mrs. Sillibus as one of the congregation was an ordeal which even habit could never render endurable; but to make an afterdinner speech with her critical eye at the distance only of a tablebreadth, was indeed a tremendous deed. However, he hastily swallowed a bumper of port, and nerving himself to his task, rose suddenly, saying

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mrs. Sillibus has requested me-" here observing a somewhat bewildered expression of countenance on the part of his hearers, he paused to correct himself, and proceeded with renewed trepidation-"I mean it is my duty and pleasure to ask you to drink the toast that I have to propose to you. However much we may all have enjoyed this convivial evening (here a glance from Mrs. Sillibus)-I mean even if we have not been convivial-(here a look of wonder from all)-I mean even if we have imitated the ancient Greeks in tempering our conviviality with sobriety-(here still an unsatisfied glance from his helpmate) - as taught us by the learned investigators of classic times, yet we must admit the chief source of our enjoyment to have been the presence amongst us of our host, and thethe auspicious circumstances to which we owe that presence. congratulate you, Mr. Viking, upon the position your son so worthily occupies; and I wish you, Charles, long life, health, and happiness, to enjoy the position so-so-auspiciously acquired. Ladies and gentleman (here an awful look from Mrs. Sillibus, whose wrath was great at the brevity of her husband's speech. He, poor man, could only guess at her meaning)-I beg pardon-Mrs. Sillibus, ladies and gentlemen, the health of our host and his family."

I

The toast was honoured with much enthusiasm, and a little laughing at the termination of the

parson's remarks, whtch were ever afterwards set down as a sly hit on his part, though if the truth be told, Mrs. Sillibus was rather gratified than otherwise since it provided her for all time to come with that priceless treasure, a real substantial grievance. In anywise the only person whom the hit made sore was the parson himself.

After the toast, a dead silence ensued for a few moments. Charles Viking was seen to make an effort to rise, but his hand trembled so, as he laid it upon the table to assist him, that he at once sank back into his seat and whispered something to his father. The latter then rose,

and turning very pale, he said in a deep, husky voice:

"My friends, we are much obliged to you all for your good wishes. I have looked forward to this day for many years, and now—”

He paused and looked uneasily round the room, as though for some way of escape. The guests looked inquiringly at each other, and the most perfect stillness prevailed. He continued

"And now I find I can't enjoy it! Look you—” his face gradually flushed, and his voice trembled"there should be two persons here to-night instead of us-Aye! Dick and Lily-they've treated us nobly, and we've treated them basely!"

He paused again, and again looked uneasily round the room. All were breathless with astonishment, and Charles sitting fixed and upright regarded his father with an aspect of amazement and alarm. Suddenly Mr. Viking turned to him and taking him by the shoulder, exclaimed in a loud yet broken voice—

66

Charles, my son! we're both of us damned scoundrels!" and so saying he turned away and walked quickly from the room.

The scene of confusion that ensued was unparalleled in the history of Merringham. Mrs. Viking fainted, and Miss Doting went into violent

hysterics. Charles sprang up, and in his haughtiest manner said, "My father, I fear, is mad!" and then with the assistance of Littlemore and Clara, he carried his mother to her chamber, leaving Miss Doting to the tender care of Mr. Bench, who was known to be not insensible to the plump charms of his neighbour's daughter, and who felt much embarrassed when, on throwing a jug of water over her to recover her, the remedy was so speedy and successful that she at once boxed his ears for spoiling her new dress. The rest of the guests felt that the time for departure had arrived, and hurried about, seeking for their outdoor garments, and giving instructions for the preparation of their respective vehicles.

Very soon all had departed, and Rumbleton Hall was left to its new inmates and to Littlemore, who had arranged to stay for a few days longer. None felt inclined for further conversation; and after restoring Mrs. Viking to consciousness, they all retired as soon as possible to their respective apartments. Charles, whose mind was far from rest, bent his steps to the upper portion of the house, where he had converted into a study what once had been the alchemist's laboratory. The room looked sombre enough in the light of the flickering lamp he brought with him, and there was something a little weird in the curious instruments and vessels that, with a grinning skull, still lay on the shelves of an open cupboard in one corner of the room. Large bookcases, filled with my father's loved volumes, occupied the greater portion of three sides of the room, while the fourth was almost entirely taken up by a capacious chimney, where a small furnace had once stood. The most remarkable things about this chimney, in addition to its vast size, were the solidity and magnificent carving of its jambs, which were of

some dark-coloured marble, and were each adorned with a piece of sculpture the size of life, one representing Life in the shape of an armed knight just sheathing his sword; while the other pourtrayed Death, the same knight being shown unarmed, and with a dagger thrust through his heart. This latter figure was so skilfully executed, that the flesh seemed to be transparent, and the grim skeleton could be traced underneath the rounded contour of the body.

The room was damp, from having been uninhabited so long, and a fire had been made in the chimney. A small table stood in front of the fire, and placing the lamp upon this, Charles drew an armchair near, and sat down to think quietly over all that had occurred.

'Twas almost the first opportunity he had had for quiet thought since the time of his sprained ancle at Rickerston, and his reflections crowded upon him.

At times his face grew even paler than was its wont, and then he would start as though disturbed, and would look cautiously about him. At times an emotion of anger would brood upon his countenance, and then he would clench his fist and strike it upon the table. Presently he began to mutter to himself, and at last, plunging his hands deep in his pockets, he stretched out his legs to the fire, and said in a bitter tone

"And so this is the result of my plans! A haunted house, an installation at which my own father plays me false, and a-lost-love! game however, is not ended yet, as Charles Viking will show the world."

The

DURING the last few months the position of M. Thiers has been one by no means to be envied, yet he has shown that increasing years and long disuse have not impaired his powers. He has still the same inexhaustible fertility, and the same power of happy illustration with which he used to charm and so often convince the old Chamber of Deputies. Whether discussing the foreign policy or the finances of France, he is still what he was twenty years ago. That the veteran statesman is ambitious none can doubt, and he may be said to have more than attained his desires; but who can doubt likewise his ardent patriotism. With all his ability and ambition he had no right to hope to be greater than he was. When in the prime of life he had very great opportunities: he was twice first minister of France, and each time was compelled to retire after a short and inglorious career. He was again summoned to advise his sovereign in February, 1848, and only hastened a catastrophe for which he and other leading statesmen were mainly responsible. Except that tout arrive en France, it was scarcely conceivable that he would ever again play a prominent part in politics. If there is ever to be a free government in France, it will not be achieved by one whose career has been distinguished by the sacrifice of political friends and the abnegation of political principles.

The career of M. Thiers serves to illustrate one of the many causes which led to the overthrow of the government and the dynasty of Louis Philippe. From the very first he was in a prominent position, and might have had a large share in guiding the revolution which he had laboured so hard to effect. There

were some periods when he had the good fortune to obtain great personal popularity, so valuable for the authority which it gave hin in the Chamber, and the influence which it secured for him at the Tuilleries. Yet as a politician he failed egregiously, and whatever fame he may look forward to must rest on his merits as a parliamentary speaker and a popular writer.

In times of revolution, but more especially in France, men rise to the surface and obtain a large share of power without having given any proof of political capacity, or the art of managing men and parties. It was eminently the case in 1848, and to some extent in 1871. It was a strange freak of fortune to take M. Thiers from the bureau of the "National," to give him a high ministerial place and in a year a seat in the Cabinet. His previous life had scarcely fitted him for such rapid advancement. He was a clever talker and a smart superficial writer on every subject that came to hand, with unlimited self-confidence and great ignorance of mankind. He was a successful journalist and no thing more, and at a very early period displayed that instability of opinion, not to say unscrupulousness, which became so conspicuous in the later years of his career. He was, however, full of energy, and by ability overcame many disadvantages that stood in his way. It was only in 1821 that, after giving up all hopes of success as an advocate, he became a regular writer in the Constitutionnel. The quantity of work which he got through was enormous

politics, literature, fine arts, nothing came amiss to him-whilst, in the mean time, he was engaged in his "History of the French Revolu

tion," in which he professed the highest devotion to the principles of 1789, and an unbounded admiration for Danton. It was a very readable book, and in the growing discontent with the government of the Restoration became very popular, as Lamartine's picture of the Girardins did in 1848, and made its author a political character of mark, and one of the leaders of that literary opposition which contributed so much to the fall of the Bourbons. He joined Miguet and Armand Carrel in the National, and in one of his articles uttered the memorable phrase, “Le roi régne, mais ne gouverne pas." During the following months he bore a considerable part in the struggle with the Government. He proposed the candidature of the Duke of Orleans, and, when the Bourbons were overthrown, went himself to Neuilly to overcame the hesitation of the wavering or reluctant prince.

Such were the steps, to most Englishmen utterly incomprehensible, by which M. Thiers, in virtue of his having written a popular history, and by his own miraculous audacity, became an important personage under the new dynasty. He had owed much, no doubt, to the patronage of M. Laffitte, to whom he was a convenient instrument; but he owed much more to himself and to that peculiar anarchy of opinion not unaccompanied with terror which, in times of revolution, gives power and place to the audacious and enterprising. But it must have been a singular spectacle to witness. Here was an unsuccessful barrister, not five feet high, with spectacle glasses as large as crown-pieces, but an author of pungent articles and revolutionary history, calmly giving away the throne of France. However, to the actors themselves in this strange scene it seems to have appeared the most natural thing in the world, and M. Theirs was duly rewarded with an important post in the new government. Then his real difficulties be

gun.

There are many who obtain power by revolutions who speedily show themselves utterly incapable of wielding it. If those who take office have been violent revolutionists, which for the most part must happen, they either disappoint their followers, and so become distrusted, or else render government simply impossible. Those who have taken part in the battle are clamorous for 2 share of the spoil, and the multitude, at least in France, look for an immediate benefit from a change of rulers. The revolution of July was to many a great disappointment, and it was a convulsion of such magnitude as to bring France to the verge of general anarchy. How to govern the country was a very grave question, and perhaps sufficient allowance has not yet been made for the innumerable difficulties by which the government of Louis Philippe, at least at the outset, was surrounded. It is no easy matter to establish authority after a successful insurrection. Many of the politicians were as wild and as irrational as the poor gamins who had fought on the barricades. Thus, for instance, many of the supporters of the new government, and among them M. Theirs, who was what was called un homme du mouvement, were proposing to cross the Rhine and the Alps to liberate Poland and Italy; others were in favour of measures equally dangerous or impracticable.

The Laffitte ministry was soon compelled to give way, and a new cabinet was formed under M. Casimir Périer. M. Thiers went into opposition, but against the men with whom he had hitherto acted, and against the principles which, up to this time, he had so strenuously advocated. He now became the unflinching supporter of the treaties of 1815, and rapidly imbibed opinions which he well understood could not be distasteful to the sovereign whom he had already served and whom he hoped to serve