"Yes, you may tell me." His eyes held hers, intense with meaning; his lips trembled with the burden of his heart; all his desire was leaping up, and shaping itself into tender words. What was it that stayed them, caused them to falter into commonplaces? What power locked the eager lips upon the halfuttered secret? Why did the intense eyes lose their sweet significance, the hand relax its gentle grasp? "You may stretch this pair of gloves for me, then, if you please," he said, recovering himself. "Isn't it a little droll," said she, hiding whatever chagrin she experienced behind her smile-"isn't it a little droll that stretching the stocking should be such a sin, while stretching the glove is perfectly harmless ?" | lingering tones and bewitching accents, as in the brightest days of her prosperity. They talked about his journey, the sights he was to see, the sounds he would hear; and she sighed, and said, "Oh, I wonder if I shall ever go to Europe!" with that wild hope which most of us long to realize. They were sitting together upon a tête-à-tête, a relic of past magnificence. He had been looking at her embroidery, and when he gave it back their hands touched, and lingered almost lovingly. The words were on his lips, "Will you go to Europe with me, Elinor?" "Will you," he faltered; "will you- You will-forget me, I suppose, as soon as I am gone. Out of sight, out of mind!" "If you wish me to forget you, I will," she laughed. "And if I do not wish it?" "Ah, I can not promise: you are to be absent a whole year." So he went to Europe, and tried to forget himself in the details of business; to satisfy himself with the public galleries and gardens, with art and nature in holiday attire. He visited the Mer de Glace, and dwelt in the shadow of the Matterhorn, and heard the mountain echoes vibrating upon the inspired air. But to whom could he confide all his fine thoughts? Who could respond to his moods with such perfect sympathy as Elinor? Half the charm of travel was lost without her. At the Lake of Como he fell in with an elderly gentleman, solitary like himself. "Ah," said he, "this traveling alone is almost like staying at home." "And why, Sir, did you not bring your wife?" ventured John. "Confound my folly!" he thought, walking away. "Why didn't I say it? She looked almost as if she expected something. I gave her the right to. But did she care to listen? To be sure, the place was unfortunate; but peo- If she could not promise to remember him a ple have made and heard proposals in ball-year, was it likely that she would promise to rooms, in crowds, before this-at street cor- love him a lifetime? ners, and at book-stalls. There was Captain Wildes: he proposed to Mary on board the cars, and, not understanding him, she cried, 'What?' So he had to scream it all over again, and the train stopped at a station before he finished. He must have been a plucky fellow! They say that women do half the courting, but bless me if I've had any help in this affair! And, at this rate, it's like a snail's journey; I take one step forward, and slip back two. The deuce! I wonder how they get on! It must be tiresome standing behind a counter all day, with the Guilford pride on her shoulders, and the home troubles tugging at her heart. If I had only asked her before the breaking of this bubble! But now it would seem like taking advantage of her circumstances; and if I could not endure that she should consent to marry me from pity, how much less from prudence? Yet, if she cares for me- But how am I to know? She is not likely to tell me without being asked, and why should I ask her unless I am certain ?" And thus, while he let the occasion slip by, while he dawdled and perplexed himself, the firm in which he was junior partner required his presence in Europe to establish a branch house. He went to bid Elinor good-by-perhaps to say something more earnest. He could not tell; he could not count upon himself nor his moods. He found her in a dark, narrow street of the city, where the sunshine was only a morning visitor of the most ceremonious kind; in rooms whose shabbiness smote him to the heart. She sat before a flickering flame, and embroidered in linen. He understood that by this means she was eking out her insufficient wages. But otherwise she was the same being whom he had known in luxury. The blush had not deserted her fair cheek, the dimple still hid there; the eyes were as radiant with light and spirit, the expression as enchanting, the voice as liquid and full of soft, VOL. XLIII.-No. 257.-48 "Because I was a fool once. I have no wife. Twenty-five years ago I was in love, but I was, at the same time, too great a dunce to tell her so. Young man, if you ever chance to fall in love, lose no time in letting her know it. Don't defer speaking." "And if she-" "No matter what she answers. You will have done your duty; you will have nothing with which to reproach yourself." John left the Lake of Como at once. He traveled night and day to London, and embarked for home. He went to the shabby by-street where he had left Elinor; but the bird had flown. Mr. Guilford, with that happy faculty some men have for always coming to the surface in good condition, had speculated himself into another fortune during John's absence, and was only to be found on Queen's Strect, in the mansion of his forefathers. A servant ushered John into a cheerful morning-room, looking out into a garden full of sunshine and flowers, and went to find Miss Elinor, while he looked at Elinor's portrait in crayon, read the name of Granville Denormandy in the corner, and wondered if he "You were right.-Ah, Margaret, a gentleman waiting to see me? We will be in pres ently.' did it before going away, and why he, John, I took it for an omen, and, determined not to had never seen it before. Just then voices lose you through a faint heart, dearest, I left that had all along been faintly audible drew Venice that night." nearer, so that he could hear the words as well as the tones. He turned his head and looked out into the garden, where, in the neighborhood of a hundred-leaved rose-tree, Elinor had paused, leaning on the arm of a tall young man. "I thought at that time," the tall young man was saying, and they stood so near the window that John could not fail to hear-was obliged to listen-"I thought at that time that you had a fancy for young Everett-John, wasn't it? By-the-way, I met him abroad, and decided that you must have refused him, he was so distraught." Elinor stirred, and a shower of rose petals stirred with her. "I may as well be frank with you," she said; "it makes no difference now. I did. I was in love with him, Granville; I believed that he loved me. I should have married him if he had asked me. But that was a year ago, and when one deserts you, what can you do better than forget him?" "Nothing, darling; I could not advise any thing that would please me more. Poor fellow! And I am his heir! Well, perhaps I shouldn't have been here myself but for a lucky chance. I loved you, Elinor, when I left you. One evening I was drifting in a gondola beneath the marble ruins of Venice, when two youths, idly pleasuring like myself, passed so near that I distinctly heard one say, 'Faint heart never won fair lady, Denis." I John had listened, like one in a trance, in spite of himself; then he moved slowly into the hall, possessed himself of his hat, and went away, repeating, "A faint heart never won a fair lady; and she would have married me if I had asked her! And Granville Denormandy is my heir!" "Margaret, Margaret!" called Elinor, "you said there was a gentleman here to see me. What have you done with him?" "I showed him in here, 'pon my honor, miss," cried the astonished maid; "I left him a-looking at your picter as if he could eat it. He can't hev got into the dining-room ter the silver, can he? He wasn't a ghost nor nothing, was he?" "I-think-not," said Elinor, picking up a handkerchief, and reading the name of John Everett, Jun., in the corner: "I-think-not. Never mind, Maggie; if he wants to see me he'll come again." But he never came again. And to-day Elinor wears, among other charms, a tiny slipper of gold, embroidered with pearls, which every one knows was a wedding gift, but which few know to be a memento of the days when she and John Everett made shipwreck together. A BABY BROOK. "TINKLE-TE-TINKLE," it said, close to the path beside me, And laughed like a child escaping into the light again! And I am her little page that carries a silver cup. "Tinkle-te-tinkle"-it paused, and a dainty basin filling, To June, the world's delight"-and a wonderful stream of trilling BY-GONE CELEBRITIES OF BOND STREET, LONDON. BY R. H. HORNE. Lord Byron.-Lord Petersham. - The King and the | here and there a shop door began to yawn, and Queen.-Romeo Coates.-St. Preux.-Dr. Stone.-La- the drowsy shutters of one or other of the great dies of Fashion.-Duelists, etc. W fish-mongers and fruiterers were slowly moving "HEN the late Earl of Harrington was a down in expectation of the market carts from leader of the fashions (being at that time Billingsgate and Covent Garden. But there Lord Petersham) the evening full dress of fash- were no street passengers to admire or wonder ionable gentlemen's legs consisted of pantaloons at Lord Petersham's "fleshings." Such a picfitting close to the shape, and tied with thin ture as this group presented, if painted and exribbon rather tightly round the ankles. The hibited at the present time, would no doubt be color was either black or buff, though some- denounced as an incredible invention, while we times white; but black predominated, as best may very fairly speculate on what might be the calculated to conceal imperfections of contour. opinion, as to his duty, of any policeman now Lord Petersham, being an Adonis in form, usu- living who caught sight of a gentleman, even ally appeared in white or buff pantaloons. One of the most finished elegance, who displayed evening, however, he suddenly "led off" a new his nether symmetry in the boiled-prawn-like style, which very few ventured to follow, and habiliments previously indicated. presented himself at an elegant soirée in flesh or blush colored "tights," the effect of which we leave to be imagined. His lordship calmly justified this startling novelty by saying that buff or white toward the close of an evening, more especially after dancing, had a tendency to look like a not very nice flesh-color, whereas his present innovation gave the effect of freshness, as from a bath. Some people considered this justification as rather equivocal. It was given, however, with a mild imperturbability not to be conveyed by written words; and in any case he did what he pleased, like Brummel, who preceded him, and always found admirers, and in most cases many followers. He was residing at this period in St. James's Palace, where George III. had given him a suit of apartments. He held, I believe, some kind of office at court, but, whatever it was, his lord-above-mentioned apparent disqualifications are, ship never did any duty. It may now very probably occur to the reader to inquire, "Did you, Sir, who describe this unique picture, really see it yourself? If you did not witness the scene, would you favor us by indicating your authority?" The scene, which has only been simply narrated, and not in the least "worked up" by any literary art, undoubtedly took place some years before my time-and a very brief time it was-in Bond Street; but sufficient authority for it shall presently be made apparent. Why should a comparatively ugly, long, narrow, uneven street have been specially selected at any time as the most fashionable resort at the most fashionable hours? The writer of a somewhat clever and satirical novel of the day, entitled "Six Weeks at Long's" (the well-known Bond Street hotel), undertakes to show that the in fact, special reasons in its favor. Being "all shops," and the most wealthy and elegant shops, gives the street an unbroken brightness and variety of interest. People wishing to be seen must inevitably be seen on such a narrow footway; people who are to be passed and not seen can readily be so treated by a sudden turn to gaze at something in a shop window. This narrowness also helps the sense of fullness and stir Returning cnce from a ball, which had lasted a whole summer's night and much beyond, Lord Petersham sent away his carriage, preferring to walk home in order to enjoy the refreshing coolness of the early morning-say 6.30 A.M., or perhaps 7 A.M.—and on the way he met the king and queen walking arm in arm up Bond Street. None of the shops were open. Their Majesties were going to see Miss Linwood's ex-ring life, causing, at the same time, a slowness hibition of tapestry, which at that day was in the neighborhood of South Molton Street, or very near Oxford Street, and the royal couple had, no doubt, sent to Miss Linwood to be 'open" at that very early hour. It was thus that they were met as Mr. and Mrs. Guelph, walking, like "Darby and Joan," arm in arm up the street at the vacant and silent hour of seven in the morning. The early habits of the royal family of that day were, however, well known. Lord Petersham was a great favorite with "Farmer George and Snuffy," as their Majesties were not unfrequently designated in irreverent caricatures of the period. His lordship, therefore, stopped on meeting the homely pair, and they had a chat for ten minutes, while of progression. This latter advantage is yet more conspicuous in the horse-way, along which the writer of the novel describes "the double stream of the slow procession of carriages, all moving so slowly that one would suppose it a funeral were it not for the grave faces within;" and the fashionable novelist then gives certain reasons, more heartless than witty, for the frequent merriment of mourners, on the score of inheritances, legacies, and so forth. He also dilates upon the advantages this crowded slowness affords to intriguantes, lolling in satin-cushioned barouches, for displaying floral signals, fan practice, or finger telegraphs placed unconsciously over the carriage door for the instruction of some "exquisite" devotee half ensconced within a certain jeweler's or virtu-dealer's shop, | for mortal strife. The seconds and friends or for some black-whiskered, brass-spurred mil- then interpose, and the whole party return to itary admirer standing gallantly on the thresh- Long's to breakfast. old of a renowed hair-dresser's shop, staring at horses' heads, and alternately "bullying" the street and the upper stories. In those days it was quite the haut ton to fight duels, and it may readily be understood that such proceedings as have just been intimated vaguely (they are very broadly stated in "Six Weeks at Long's") frequently led to hostile meetings. A favorite locality for these was at Chalk Farm, whither the principals with their seconds repaired at 6 A.M.; a grim jest being current that it was customary to call at a certain little hostelry and order "pistols for two, and coffee for three." Lord Byron alludes to these meetings The foregoing is quoted from memory, but I think the original gave a yet broader caricature. Something more, however, on the subject of the actual dueling of that period will shortly have to be recorded. Reverting to the constant and unbroken double stream of carriages slowly moving up and down Bond Street on their way to or from Hyde Park, St. James's Park, Piccadilly, Pall Mall, or other aristocratic localities, the great majority were close, that is to say, covered carriages. The open carriages were phaetons, barouches, curricles, stanhopes, and tilburies. Among those of the highest style the carriage of Lord Petersham was always remarkable for its dignified simplicity and finished elegance. He had recently introduced "the Petersham coat"-a long overcoat of fine French-white or whity-buff cloth, with a cape that hung nearly to the elbows. The coat was fitted tight to the shape, and had a very stylish appearance. Yet, being usually worn without an under coat, it was any thing but warm during a northeast wind. Simultaneously with this "In my hot youth, when George the Third was king;" and particularly on the first publication of his "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," saying in the notes to a subsequent work that he waited in London some time in anticipation of sundry cartels. His "Conversations" in after-years with Lady Blessington and with Mr. Patmore (father of the poet, Coventry Patmore) often turn upon matters eminently suggestive of such re-introduction the two tall lackeys standing up sults. The dueling proclivities of Lord Byron behind Lord P.'s carriage were attired in long are satirized in a most ridiculous scene de- coats of the same cut, but of russet-brown. scribed in the novel previously quoted. The The stanhope was a sort of improved gig, poet, having accomplished the feat of swimming brought nearer to the ground, the invention of across the Hellespont, is designated in this novel the Honorable Fitzroy Stanhope. It had a as "Lord Leander," and being implicated in a constant soft-rattling, shaky motion, from side duel on absurd grounds, suddenly conceives the to side, which was considered very distingué, idea that it would most become him to fight in though it certainly made some people sick. a classical style, his antagonist (another Bond The tilbury was the invention of the great Street celebrity) being also addicted to studies coach-builder of that name, and had a dancing of the kind, especially in ancient weapons. up-and-down motion, not only on first stepping Lord Leander, therefore, selects a large spear into it, but at every change of attitude in the of the Homeric model, and his antagonist a driver or the friend at his side. But the most Phrygian bow, warranted genuine. They take unique of all the curricles was that of Mr. up their positions at thirty-five paces distance. Romeo Coates. The body of this curricle was The combat begins by Lord Leander throwing shaped and ribbed like a melon, and painted his long spear ten feet short of his man, and the and varnished like a dark golden fruit of that other sending an arrow fifteen feet over his lord- kind. A large bar of chased and embossed ship's head. At the next discharge the spear silver was fixed across the backs of the two passes several yards on one side, while the ar- superb horses, who each bore on his head a row sticks aslant in the ground several yards silver cock, standing up as in the act of crowon the other side. This missing continues till ing. A crest of the same kind was on each Lord Leander, in a rage, makes a rush toward side of the curricle, with the motto of, "While his man with his spear at the charge, while the I live." It will be obvious that Mr. Coates antagonist wisely changes his tactics by running was an eccentric gentleman of large fortune. in a large circle, endeavoring now and then to He was called "Romeo" on account of his fancy dispatch an arrow in the Parthian style, which for enacting that part, not merely among amaeither flies at random or jerks down bunglingly teurs, but with first-class professionals at Covas the Parthian sees the point of the javelin ent Garden or Drury Lane; and the chief coming too close to his unguarded rear. The feature on which he piqued himself was his seconds and friends of the bow-and-arrow duel- portrayal of the agonies of death by poison in list now begin to denounce the unequal features the last scene. Now came the delight of the the contest had assumed, and Lord Leander large audience which always congregated to magnanimously flings down his Homeric spear. see him. They applauded, amidst shouts of But the blood of both the heroes being now too laughter, every contortion and change of agony, much excited to pause, they collect themselves and thus kept him at it till the curtain descendwith clinched hands, alternately opening and ed. This was the signal for renewed shouts crooking like griffins' claws, and rush together of ironical applause, and cries of "encore," till the green curtain rose, and Mr. Coates came on and died again. Renewed and increased applause followed this second exhibition of the agonies of poison, and on one occasion the cry for a third death scene was continued so perseveringly, mingled with yells for "Mr. Coates!" that the management begged of him just to appear once more and bow. The instant he did so he was received with uproarious hoots and hisses. Exasperated at the unprovoked ruffianism, Mr. Romeo Coates suddenly drew his sword. One universal scream of laughter burst forth. Mr. Coates at once recovered his self-possession, and, sticking the point of his sword into the stage, stood there in a defiant attitude. And amidst all the yells and hootings and cries of "off! off! off!" and peltings of nuts, oranges, and showers of periwinkles and chestnuts from the upper and lower galleries, there he stood till the uproar fairly turned into applause at his "pluck;" and he then bowed gracefully all round, and retired. Lord Byron, meeting the manager (Elliston) in Bond Street, the morning after this event, assured him that, "with the exception of the acting of the great tragedian, Edmund Kean, he was never so much affected' in his life;" which being repeated to Mr. Coates, he expressed himself highly flattered by the compliment. poet with a scrutinizing gaze-then looked behind apprehensively. The question being repeated, he took a step forward, and replied, in a suppressed tone, "They told me to say they were out; but they're in. They're gone up stairs to strip for dinner." If the style of dress thus indicated among ladies of the highest circles "left little mystery," as Lord Byron said, for the sacred rights of Hymen, the example set by them was sure to be followed by nearly all who could afford it; and we can not, therefore, be surprised if some things were adopted in the worst manner, and carried to exaggeration by the demi-monde. At this period the great theatres of Drury Lane and Covent Garden, having a patent monopoly of Shakspeare and the higher class of dramas, had large saloons, with a refreshment bar at one end, where there was a crowded promenade between each act, and more particularly after the first piece, in which the scant and enfranchised draperies of improvised nereids and hamadryads were classical only in name, and would not be tolerated now, even upon our present stage, which is saying something. Here men of all ages, but not of all ranks (the saloon being only attainable by a passage from the dress circle), were constantly seen promenading or seated on side sofas; and at two speOf the high-born dames and their daughters cial seasons in each year, during one or two who sunned their beautiful faces, bonnets, sym- nights, a far larger number than usual of very metrical shoulders and busts, artistic and other- young men-in fact, youths and boys from wise, it will be scarcely necessary to say that fourteen to seventeen-were mingling with the many of them preferred to drive in open phae- crowd, and then hurrying off to the lobbies or tons, landaus, and landaulets. Of their cos- rushing up stairs to the "pigeon-holes,” as the tumes the present writer is not competent to boxes just under the gilded roofing were named. speak in appropriate terms, but he is quite sure What made these youths and boys the more that nothing so monstrous, ugly, and ridiculous conspicuous, besides their joyous scampering as the bewigged and bewitched head-dresses about by threes and fours together, was a cerof the present day (at least in the London tain dashing military air, assisted by the style streets and public places) was ever seen in the of dress, as most of them had brass or steel fashionable localities of the day we are now re- fixed spurs, and several wore the scarlet unviewing. In one respect, however, the cos- dress coat of the Guards. These youngsters tume certainly did surpass all that is at present were "gentlemen cadets," who had just got seen either abroad or in theatres and ball-rooms. free from the stringent discipline of the Royal But this specialty was reserved for the evening Military College at Sandhurst, for what-with full dress, concerning which the less we say a style above school holidays-was desigthe more characteristic will be the imaginings. nated a "suspension of studies." Gigs, tilAn exquisite illustration, however, of village buries, broken-down hunters, and colts not innocence on this subject must not be omit-half broken in, stanhopes, tandems (often ted. driven for the first time, with the usual conseA certain fashionable lady, whose lovely daugh- quences), the royal mail, post-chaises and four, ters were regarded as the most elegant belles of and drags of various kinds with four horses, the season, having become disgusted with the crowded outside, and having only one johnnyarrogance, lies, neglect, and passive insolence of raw within, whose constant duty it was to hand their upper footman, suddenly discharged the things out of hampers to the senior gentlemen powdered personage, and imported a man from cadets on the roof or the box-these and other the country, who had been strongly recommend- conveyances dropped us down in London that ed to them for his attentive and respectful be- same day. The great majority, no doubt, went havior, and invariable truthfulness. On the straight home, but a score or so made up little third day of his inauguration, the poet Moore, parties, intending to keep together for a few who was very intimate with the family, made a days. Some went to the "Bedford" or the "call" some quarter of an hour later than his "Hummams" in Covent Garden, to be near the dining intention warranted. "Are Lady B-theatres; some went to "Hatchett's Hotel," to and the Misses B-at home?" inquired Moore. be near Piccadilly and the Arcade; some went The new footman from the country eyed the to "Pagliano's," in Leicester Square, for the |