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ditions of men. "Brune, a glass of champagne?" Brune, we've not taken wine!" were continually the invitations addressed to him. Christy Arabin, now relieved of the dread of having him for a son-inlaw, and grateful for his late rescue of Violet, indulged his predilection for Arthur, and made overtures to converse with him.

"Fine young man that," said old Christy, in a low voice, to his neighbour the colonel, after failing for the third or fourth time to provoke Brune's conversation.

"The most promising I know, in the regiment or out of it. If he escapes the perils of this place and this society as I believe he will, for he has sense and firmness-his name will be better known than it is now."

"No, none of that stuff," said Gervaise to a servant who offered him curry-" none of that; I've got a very pretty thirst on me without." But Tom immediately repented of his forbearance, and called after the man, "Hollo! come back here; it looks amazingly good-I'll have a little;" and so it was with everything presented to him.

Clutterbuck tried to look cool, and to do the honours in a manner becoming the occasion. In the first endeavour he was not successful; in the second he succeeded as long as his faculties lasted. Imagining it to be his duty to set a great ensample of making merry (where, indeed, no man required either practice or precept to prompt him), he was incessant in his invitations to take champagne, and the number of glasses he got through was astonishing, considering what a sober and regular man he was. Pat Shane remarked, that "if mere instinct could do so much, what might not such a man achieve if liberally educated! But, then, Clut had no proper ambition, and would not cultivate his talent." The task which he had set himself for this exceptional occasion was certainly herculean, and Clut's gallantry succumbed at

last. After he ceased to bow and talk, he rested his head on his hand, and continued his bland smile of hospitality, though rather less expressively than before.

The most delightful ceremonies must conclude, and Clutterbuck's dinner, after wending its glorious way through turtle and mulligatawney, thence to callipever, mountain mullet, and flying-fish, then again to ragouts of turtle, alligator's eggs, fricasseed iguana, and other native entrées, next culminating in saddle and sirloin as at home, subsiding into wild guinea-fowl and wood-pigeons, and winding up with mango tarts, shaddock fritters, pineapple jelly, and creams and sweets ad infinitum, came to an end. The grace was said, the cloth withdrawn, the mess mahogany shone out well rubbed for the occasion, and the decanters and dessert took their turn. Christy Arabin himself, in a neat speech, proposed Captain Clutterbuck's health, and long life to him, after enumerating his many virtues and illustrious achievements. Clutterbuck expended his last effort of will in keeping his legs for three minutes, and giving vent to a flow of oratory remarkable rather for the fusion of its words and the repetition of its phrases than for force or originality. Nevertheless, it must certainly have possessed merit of some kind, for, as Clutterbuck sank once more into his chair, the cheering was vociferous, and the rapping and rattling could hardly be induced to stop.

As Tom Gervaise became now less busy than he had been for the last hour and a half, he once more delighted the admiring ensign with his affability, and sought to illuminate the tyro's mind.

"Is that archdeacon a clever man, Captain Gervaise ?" asked the lad. "Wonderfully so," replied Tom.

66 He doesn't look it, though he has a good appetite and takes his wine kindly. What's his line?" Sermons and general science," said Tom.

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"Ah, I don't read that sort much, but I read lots of advertisements, and don't recollect his name. Do you remember any recent production?" Gervaise paused to examine his memory, and then said, He is bringing out an interesting treatise on the digestibility of land-crabs, and their pretensions as an article of food. Didn't you observe him at dinner practising what he preaches, and tucking them in one after another?"

"Didn't he! But why is it necessary to write about them? I suppose people here know perfectly well whether land-crabs agree with them or not without a clergyman's voucher!"

"The book is supposed," said Tom, "to be a reply to his wife, who won't let him eat them (though he doats on 'em), because they killed his predecessor. He doesn't dare to contradict her to her face."

"The deuce! what a spoon! Is she an Amazon?"

"That little delicate woman you were talking to the other night at old Lopez's, with her dress so terribly scanty at both ends!"

"That his wife! why, she's as gentle as a dove; and such spicy ankles! By Jove, Captain! you don't mean to say he's afraid of such a little duck as that!"

"You should see," said Tom, "the milliners' bills that he has to pay to soothe her. It costs threefourths of his income to keep her indecent."

"I thought her the very picture of neatness. Hasn't she nice feet, though, and ankles, and, for the matter of that

"For shame, young man!" said Tom Gervaise.

The ensign coloured scarlet, and rapidly changed the subject.

"And who's that vivacious little squinting man in spectacles, Captain ?"

"That; oh, that's Lawyer Blake, now acting judge-a broth of a boy.', "Very learned, I daresay?" "In a cockpit or at picquet you can't match him, especially after

midnight. He knows a good many things, but law isn't one of them." "How did he get a government appointment, then?"

"Because he was bankrupt in pocket and reputation, and just the sort of reprobate that unscrupulous ministers send out to draw colonial salaries and degrade colonial courts:. not a bad fellow though," said Tom. "Listen; he is going to sing."

And Acting Judge Blake, whose mercury now stood at an exceedingly genial and large-hearted temperature, sang with much expression and no voice a popular Irish melody, which appeared to give the greatest satisfaction. The learned gentleman then, in right of his melodious achievement, called upon Captain Clutterbuck to sing himself in, making a very humorous speech in humble imitation of Counsellor Curran. But, far from being able to sing, Clut could scarcely articulate; and two or three of his friends, of whom Arthur Brune was foremost, having requested Mr Knox to take the chair, escorted the newmade captain to his quarters, where they carefully undressed him and placed him in bed, setting a light near, and a glass of weak brandyand-water within his reach; and Arthur Brune threatened Clut's domestic with very dreadful pains and penalties if he should defraud his unconscious massa of one drop of the mixture. Arthur did not return to the mess-table that night, and many of the graver guests likewise withdrew, leaving a numerous invincible phalanx, who resolutely closed their ranks towards the head of the table, and never allowed a blank chair to hint for an instant that the evening was growing old. Perfect enjoyment could not, however, be said to be attained until the colonel, having risen, invited some of the elder officers to take coffee at his house. He included Arabinand Melhado in his invitation; but these gentlemen, it appeared, were under engagement to play a game of cards in Mr Knox's rooms. Christy was just beginning to feel himself

a boy again, and did not consider any man his friend who desired to take him home before morning. It was in those days the custom of every mess in Jamaica to allow the introduction of cigars and brandyand-water after a certain hour in the evening. No sooner, therefore, had the colonel and his companions departed, than each man began to blow his cloud and to require a tumbler and some iced water. The singing recommenced with spirit, and became very hearty and humorous. It would be easy to name and publish several choice melodies which were performed on this occasion with unbounded applause. They are, however, suppressed, under the fear that they might be less palatable to the refined reader than they were to the jolly companions who heard them. The learned acting judge was frequently called upon, and never in vain. Pat Shane's canticles were remarkable rather for boisterousness than for prudery. Even old Christy, after his first tumbler, became infected with the spirit of harmony, and poured forth his soul in a ditty which did little credit to his taste and his grey hairs, but which delighted his hearers more than anything they heard from their contemporaries.

Captain Thomas Gervaise was not addicted to singing, and the advanced bacchanal next him seldom used his voice in any way after five o'clock in the afternoon. These two respected gentlemen were therefore understood to be excused from vocal obligations. But Pat Shane viewed their exemption with extreme disapprobation, and even railed at Tom for the honourable privilege which he enjoyed, saying, "Tom, y'unmelodious ould monument, how can ye remain silent when there's every incintive to harmony? Your face is loike the lion's head on a waterpipe, and gives out no sound but the gurgling and gulping of fluids. Here we've been piping to ye like them blessed babbies in the market-place, without projuicing the desired effect.

Ye must chant, Tom, me boy. I'll tell ye now; be the ghost of Moses, I'll give ye a clane new shirt if ye'll sing us a song!"

"You haven't got credit for a shirt in all Jamaica," said Tom ; "you're obliged to send to Ireland for home-spun linen, or you'd go naked. You don't fancy I'd wear such stuff as that!"

"Calico houlds the dirt better, and so ye prefer it, I'm thinking,' replied Pat, whereupon Tom showed the head of his stick above the table as a caution.

Mr Knox, from the chair of state, made proclamation that there should be one more song all round, and then an adjournment to his apartments to enjoy coffee and chicken-hazard, or any innocent recreation which gentlemen might prefer.

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Only one more!!" echoed several voices discontentedly. "Remember he said all round!" put in Pat Shane," and round things have no end; so clear your chanters and begin. Here's an ould cock that'll crow with any of ye yet," saying which he smote Christy Arabin smartly on the back; for in the various disturbances which had recently taken place in the symposial system, Pat's orbit had been erratic, and he had finally gravitated to Christy's elbow.

This last circuit of the muse was of course the most remarkable of the evening. Earlier efforts might have excelled in grace or sentiment, but in respect of massive power, unassisted by art or ornament, the palm was unquestionably due to the crowning round. Many of its songs required a chorus, and all the others obtained that support, whether they required it or not. Finally, in refutation of any censorious cynics who might insinuate that the orgies had been prolonged to exhaustion or excess, the whole band filed down the mess-room steps and on to Knox's rooms, raising a chant in praise of punch, as fresh as those Normans who advanced to Hastings fight singing the songs of Rollo !

CHRONICLES OF CARLINGFORD: THE DOCTOR'S FAMILY.

PART IV.-CHAPTER XIV.

"WELL, it's to be hoped she's going to do well for herself that's all we've got to do with it, eh?"

"I suppose so," said Mr Wodehouse; "she's nothing to you, is she, but a little girl you've taken a deal of notice of-more notice than was wanted, if I am any judge. If she does go and marry this fellow from Australia, and he's willing to take the whole bundle back to where they came from, it is the best thing that could happen, in my opinion. Sly young dog that doctor though, I must say don't you think so? Well, that's how it appears to me. Let's see; there was Bessie -; hum! perhaps it's as well, in present circumstances, to name names. There were two, in the first instance, you know; and the way he got out of that was beautiful; it was what I call instructive, was that. And then-why then, there was Miss Marjoribanks, you know-capital match that—just the thing for young Rider-set him up for life."

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"Papa, pray-pray don't talk nonsense," said Miss Wodehouse, with gentle indignation. "Miss Marjoribanks is at least ten years

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"Oh, stuff!-keep your old-maidish memory to yourself, Molly; who cares for a dozen years or so Hasn't she all the old Scotchman's practice and his savings?-and a fine woman yet-a fine woman, eh? Well, yes, I think so; and then here this little wretch of a sister-inlaw. Why, the doctor's taken your rôle, Wentworth, eh? Well, I suppose what ought to be your rôle, you know, though I have seen you casting glances at the strange little creature yourself."

"Indeed, I assure you, you are entirely mistaken," said Mr Wentworth, hastily, with a sudden flush of either indignation or guilt. The curate glanced at Lucy Wodehouse,

who was walking demurely by his side, but who certainly did prick up her ears at this little bit of news. She saw very well that he had looked at her, but would take no notice of his glance. But Lucy's curiosity was notably quickened, notwithstanding St Roque's Cottage was wonderfully handy, if the perpetual curate of the pretty suburb and church saw anything worth visiting there. Lucy drew up her pretty shoulders in her grey sisterof-mercy cloak, and opened her blue eyes a little wider. She was still in circumstances to defy her reverend lover, if his eyes had declined upon lower attractions than her own. She looked very straight before her with unpitying precision down the road, on which St Roque's church and cottage were becoming already visible. The whole party were walking briskly over a path hard with frost, which made their footsteps ring. The air was still with a winterly touch, benumbed with cold, yet every sound rang sharply through that clear cloudless atmosphere, reddened without being warmed by the sun as it approached the west. It was Christmas again, and they were wending their way towards St Roque's to assist at the holiday decorations, for which cartloads of laurel and holly had been already deposited. within the church. Lucy Wodehouse was chief directress of these important operations. Her sister had accompanied her, partly to admire Lucy's work, and partly to call at the cottage and see how Nettie was going on. Mr Wodehouse himself had come merely for the pride and pleasure of seeing how much they were indebted to his little girl; and the attendance of the curate was most easily explainable. It was, indeed, astonishing how many extremely neces

sary and natural "calls of duty" should bring Mr Wentworth's path parallel to that of the Wodehouses. This is why they were all proceeding together on this particular afternoon in the week before Christmas towards St Roque's.

In the church, when the party arrived, a little group of workers were busy. The chancel arch was already bristling with glossy holly leaves. At a little distance from the active group occupied with this pleasant work, and full of chatter and consultation, as was natural, stood one little figure pointing out to two children the wonders of that decorative art. Every one of the newcomers, except Mr Wodehouse, recognised Nettie before she was aware of their presence. She stood with her bonnet fallen a little back, as it generally was, either by encounter of the wind, or by the quantity and luxuriance of her beautiful hair, looking upwards to the point where she had directed the children's eyes. She looked a little forlorn and solitary, as was natural, all by herself, so near that group of busy girls in the chancel-so little separated from them by age, so entirely divided by circumstances. If a certain softening of half-tender pity shone in the curate's eye, could Lucy Wodehouse blame him? But the fact was, Lucy swept past the little Australian with a very brief salutation, and burst into sudden criticism of the work that had been done in her absence which startled her collaborateurs, while Mr Wentworth followed her into the chancel with a meekness quite unusual to that young priest. Nettie noted both circumstances with a little surprise; but, not connecting them in the most distant degree with herself, turned round with a little twitch of Freddy's arm to go away, and in doing so almost walked into the arms of her older and more faithful friend. Miss Wodehouse kissed her quite suddenly, touching with her soft old cheek that rounder, fairer, youthful face, which turned, half wondering, half pleased, with

the look of a child, to receive her caress. Nettie was as unconscious that Miss Wodehouse's unusual warmth was meant to make up for Lucy's careless greeting, as that Lucy had passed her with a positive flutter of resentment and indignation, and that she had been the subject of the conversation and thoughts of all the party. Miss Wodehouse turned with her, taking Freddy's other hand-a proceeding to which that hero rather demurred. They went out together to the frosty road, where the fair willow branches rustled between the church and the cottage. When they reached the porch of St Roque's, Nettie instinctively held her breath, and stood still for a moment. Along the footpath in front of them a big figure was passing, and beyond that bearded shadow the doctor's drag flew past with all the separate tones of the horse's feet, the wheels, the jingle of the harness, ringing clear through the sharp unsoftened medium of that frosty atmosphere. The doctor himself had all his attention concentrated upon the windows of the cottage, in which the sun was blazing red. He did not see Nettie in the church porch. He was looking for her too intently in the crimsoned windows, to which he turned his head back as he dashed on. Unawares Nettie clasped the fingers of her little companion tighter in her hand as she watched that unexpected homage. The drag was out of sight in another moment; and in a few seconds more the bell of the cottage pealed audibly, and the door was heard to open, admitting the Bushman, who had come upon one of his frequent visits. That last sound disturbed Nettie's composure, and at the same time brought her back to herself.

"I cannot ask you to go in, for Mr Chatham is there, and Susan of course talking to him,” said Nettie, with a quiet breath of restrained impatience, "but I should like to talk to you, please. Let me take the children home, and then I will walk up with you. Mrs Smith is

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