dressed on earth; as long as anger and ambition, cupidity and wounded pride, canker the hearts of men? What if the wise man's attitude, and the wise nation's attitude, is that of the Jews rebuilding their ruined walls, the tool in one hand, and the sword in the other; for the wild Arabs are close outside, and the time is short, and the storm has only lulled a while in mercy, that wise men may prepare for the next thunder-burst? It is an ugly fact; but I have thrust it away too long, and I must accept it now and henceforth. This, and not luxurious Broadway; this, and not the comfortable New England village, is the normal type of human life; and this is the model city! Armed industry, which tills the corn and vine among the cannons' mouths; which never forgets their need, though it may mask and beautify their terror; but knows that as long as cruelty and wrong exist on earth, man's destiny is to dare and suffer, and, if it must be so, to die. * * * *

I

"Yes, I will face my work; my danger, if need be. I will find Marie. I will tell her that I accept her quest; not for her sake, but for its own. Only I will demand the right to work at it as I think best, patiently, moderately, wisely if I can; for a fanatic I cannot be, even for her sake. She may hate these slaveholders,—she may have her reasons,but I cannot. I cannot deal with them as feras naturæ. cannot deny that they are no worse men than I; that I should have done what they are doing, have said what they are saying, had I been bred up, as they have been, with irresponsible power over the souls and bodies of human beings. God I shudder at the fancy! The brute that I might have been that I should have been!

Yes; one thing at least I have learnt, in all my experiments on poor humanity, - never to see a man do a wrong thing, without feeling that I could do the same in his place. I used to pride myself on that once, fool that I was, and call it comprehensiveness. I used to make it an excuse for sitting by, and seeing the devil have it all his own way, and call that toleration. I will see now whether I cannot turn the said knowledge to a better account, as common sense, patience, and charity; and yet do work of which neither I nor my country need be ashamed."

He walked down, and on to the bridge of boats. They opened in the centre; as he reached it a steamer was passing. He lounged on the rail as the boat passed through, looking carelessly at the groups of tourists.

Two ladies were standing on the steamer, close to him,

looking up at Ehrenbreitstein

Sabina, and Marie by her!

Was it? yes, it was

But, ah, how changed! The cheeks were pale and hollow; dark rings - he could see them but too plainly as the face was lifted up toward the light were round those great eyes, bright no longer. Her face was listless, careworn; looking all the more sad and impassive by the side of Sabina's, as she pointed, smiling and sparkling up to the fortress, and seemed trying to interest Marie in it, but in vain.

Ile called out. He waved his hand wildly, to the amusement of the officers and peasants who waited by his side; and who, looking first at his excited face, and then at the two beautiful women, were not long in making up their minds about him; and had their private jests accordingly. They did not see him, but turned away to look at Cob lentz; and the steamer swept by.

Stangrave stamped with rage upon a Prussian officer's

thin boot.

"Ten thousand pardons!"

"You are excused, dear sir, you are excused,' says the good-natured German, with a wicked smile, which raises a blush on Stangrave's cheek. "Your eyes were dazzled ; why not? It is not often that one sees two such suns together in the same sky. But calm yourself; the boat stops at Coblentz."

Stangrave could not well call the man of war to account for his impertinence; he had had his toes half crushed, and had a right to indemnify himself as he thought fit. And, with a hundred more apologies, Stangrave prepared to dart across the bridge as soon as it was closed.

Alas! after the steamer, as the fates would have it, came lumbering down one of those monster timber-rafts; and it was a full half hour before Stangrave could get across, having suffered all the while the torments of Tantalus, as he watched the boat sweep round to the pier, and discharge its freight, to be scattered whither he knew not. At last he got across, and went in chase to the nearest hotel; but they were not there; thence to the next, and the next, till he had hunted half the hotels in the town; but hunted all in vain.

He is rushing wildly back again, to try if he can obtain any clue at the steamboat pier, through the narrow, dirty street at the back of the Rhine Cavalier, when he is stopped short by a mighty German embrace, and a German kiss on

either cheek, as the kiss of a housemaid's broom; while a jolly voice shouts in English:

"Ah, my dear, dear friend! and you would pass me! Whither the hangman so fast are you running in the mud?"

"My dear Salomon! search"

"In search?" cries philosopher's stone?

But let me go, I beseech; I am in

the jolly Jew banker, "for the You had all that man could want a

week since, except that. Search no more, but come home with me; and we will have a night as of the gods on Olympus!"

"My dearest fellow, I am looking for two ladies!"

"Two? ah, rogue! shall not one suffice?"

'Don't, my dearest fellow! I am looking for two English ladies."

"Potz! You shall find two hundred in the hotels, ugly and fair; but the two fairest are gone this two hours." "When?which?" cries Stangrave, suspecting at

once.

"Sabina Mellot, and a Sultana - I thought her of The Nation, and would have offered my hand on the spot; but Madame Mellot says she is a Gentile."

"Gone? And you have seen them! Where?"

"To Bertrich. They had luncheon with my mother, and then started by private post."

'I must follow."

"Ach lieber? But it will be dark in an hour!" "What matter?"

"But you shall find them to-morrow just as well as today. They stay at Bertrich for a fortnight more. They have been there now a month, and only left it last week for a pleasure tour, across to the Ahrthal, and so back by Andernach."

"Why did they leave Coblentz, then, in such hot haste?"

go

"Ah, the ladies never give reasons. There were letters waiting for them at our house; and no sooner read, but they leaped up, and would forth. Come home now, and by the steamer to-morrow morning!" "Impossible! most hospitable of Israelites." "To go to-night,

for see the clouds! Not a postilion will dare to leave Coblentz, under that quick-coming allge mein und ungeheuer henker-hund-undleufel's-gewitter"

Stangrave looked up, growling; and gave in. A Rbine. storm was rolling up rapidly.

"They will be caught in it."

"No. They are far beyond its path by now, while you shall endure the whole visitation; and, if you try to proceed, pass the night in a flea-pestered post-house, or in a ditch of water."

So Stangrave went home with Herr Salomon, and heard from him, amid clouds of Latakia, of wars and rumors of wars, distress of nations, and perplexity, seen by the light, not of the Gospel, but of the stock-exchange; while the storm fell without in lightning, hail, rain, of right Rhenish potency.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE THIRTIETH OF SEPTEMBER.

WE must go back a week or so, to England, and to the last day of September. The world is shooting partridges, and asking nervously, when it comes home, what news from the Crimea ? The flesh who serves it is bathing at Margate. The devil is keeping up his usual correspondence with both. Eaton Square is a desolate wilderness, where dusty sparrows alone disturb the dreams of frowzy charwomen, who, like anchorites amid the tombs of the Thebaid, fulfil the contemplative life each in her subterranean cell. Beneath St. Peter's spire the cabman sleeps within his cab, the horse without; the waterman, seated on his empty bucket, contemplates the untrodden pavement beneath his feet, and is at rest. The blue butcher's boy trots by, with empty cart, five miles an hour, instead of full fifteen, and stops to chat with the red postman, who, his occupation gone, smokes with the green gatekeeper, and reviles the Czar. Along the whole north pavement of the square only one figure moves, and that is Major Campbell.

His face is haggard and anxious; he walks with a quick, excited step; earnest enough, whoever else is not. For in front of Lord Scoutbush's house the road is laid with straw. There is sickness there, anxiety, bitter tears. Lucia has not found her husband, but she has lost her child. Trembling, Campbell raises the muffled knocker, and Bowie appears. "What news to-day?" he whispers.

"As well as can be expected, sir, and as quiet as a lamb now, they say. But it has been a bad time, and a bad man is he that caused it."

"A bad time, and a bad man. "Just gone to lie down, sir.

if you'd like to see her."

How is Miss St. Just?"

Miss Clara is on the stairs,

"No; tell Miss St. Just that I have no news yet." And the colonel turns wearily away.

Clara, who has seen him from above, hurries down after