lightly."

"He has been of late in command at Brighthelmstone, and there is talk of his being sent to Chatham," observed Mr. Bryce.

"For my part, had I the choice, I would fain follow him to the world's end," murmured Jack.

"And now I bethink myself!" exclaimed Mrs. Bryce. "Was not that a Mrs. Moore, whom in the Pump Room yesterday forenoon Mrs. Peirce introduced me to, saying that I should feel myself honoured, knowing her son's name? I protest. I had forgot the matter till now, having my attention drawn off, and not thinking of the name of General Moore."

Mr. Bryce intimated that his wife was in the right. He, too, had exchanged a word with Mrs. Moore; and he had imagined that Mrs. Bryce understood who she was. General Moore's mother was the widow of a very able Glasgow physician, also a successful author, as he proceeded to explain.

"She appears to be of a singularly retiring and gentle disposition," he observed; "and genteel in her manners. The General, 'tis said, has been always distractedly fond of his mother and sister, and they are here together for a few days. War being now declared, I fear his services will be quickly needed elsewhere."

The attention of Mrs. Bryce was as effectively diverted as Jack had wished. "The General's mother—and friends of his Grace the Duke of Hamilton," she meditated aloud. "A most unassuming person. But since I'm introduced, I'll most certainly leave upon them my visiting-ticket."

"By all means, my dear, if you so desire," assented her husband. "'Tis reported that the good lady cares not greatly for society; but nevertheless she will take it well, in compliment to her son's merits and fame."

"It may be we shall see them in the Pump Room again. I'll away there at once, on leaving this. And if I may but speak with the General, 'twill be the proudest moment of my life. You doubtless, Jack, have seen him already?"

"I have had that honour, ma'am. His is a face that, once seen, can never after be forgot."

"With manners of extraordinary address and elegance," added Mr. Bryce.

"But I had not known him before to be so great a friend of the Duke of Hamilton," remarked Mrs. Bryce, in some amazement, it would seem, at her own ignorance. She was generally credited with knowing everything that was to be known about everybody, and she prided herself on this fact.

"'Tis a friendship singularly founded," Jack observed. "Some thirty years ago, the young Duke went for a tour on the Continent, under the charge of Dr. Moore, remaining abroad, if I mistake not, several years. Dr. Moore took his son—the present General Moore—with them. He was then but a boy of ten or twelve. The Duke one day, being in a mood for idle sport, drew his hanger, and fenced with the lad, making him skip to and fro to avoid his sham thrusts. Unluckily Moore chanced to spring suddenly in a line with the Duke's next thrust, and was wounded. He said no more than 'Ha!'—looking the Duke in the face; and the Duke, in extreme terror, ran for Dr. Moore. 'Twas found to be but a flesh wound, the sword having glanced outside the ribs, and the boy soon recovered. But from that date a most strong friendship has subsisted between the two—the Duke being by four or five years the elder. Indeed, as Ivor ever says, none who know General Moore can fail to be attached to him."

"My dear," Mrs. Bryce said to her husband, "'tis about time we should be hieing to the Pump Room. My friends will there be on the look-out for me. And it may even chance that we may meet the General himself." She stood up, eager to be off; but as she went, she gave a parting fling. "Depend on't, old Nap will be in no sort of hurry to let his prisoners go free. No one need think it."

(To be continued.)

PALMAM QUI MERUIT FERAT

'Twas the merry month of May
When the birds sing roundelay,
Each to cheer his brooding mate,
Nor was one disconsolate.

'Twas the golden evening hour
When the spells of thought had power,
Giving peace but chasing mirth,
Bidding spirits walk the earth.

'Twas the fairy's silver spring
With its magic murmuring;
By its side a maiden lay,
Weary both of work and play—

"Little life my past has brought—
What is in the present wrought?
Kindly fairy, let me gaze
In my future's tangled maze."

Came the answer soft and low,
Heard amid the water's flow—
"Maiden, perfect love is thine,
Seek no further to divine."

"Perfect love? How shall I know it?
Fairy, say, who shall bestow it?"
"Maiden! years shall wax and wane
Ere thou seek this spring again.
When thou comest I will tell thee
How that fairest fate befell thee."

'Tis the rosy break of day—
By the fountain's dancing spray,
Sword in hand, and sheathed in steel,
Three in early manhood kneel.

"Gentle fairy, hear us now—
We have ta'en the knightly vow—
Sworn to aid the fair and weak,
Grant the boons thy champions seek."

"Grant," saith one, "if death be nigh
Me, for her I love to die."
And the springlet, singing sweet,
Casts a white rose at his feet.

Prays the second, "Fairy, give
Me for her I love to live."
And the merry water flows
Bearing him a crimson rose.

Saith the third, "Of death or life
I myself can wage the strife—
Only let my love endure,
Given once, unchanged and pure."
Then the fountain sinks to calm,
On its bosom lies a palm.

In the forest, sore dismayed,
Cries for help the lovely maid;
Clutch of brigand fierce and rude
Holds her in that solitude;
Brigand hands seize gems and gold,
Brigand tongues with speeches bold
Offer her, since none can save,
Queenship of their robber-cave.
On the leaves the sunbeams glitter,
'Mid the boughs the wild birds twitter,
In the grass the foxgloves