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ferred independence-and a tin sign in his window! He is a degenerate scion of the race, like your-" The Major suddenly recollected himself, and broke off with a dry cough.

Carice was looking down thoughtfully. An unerpected clue to Bergan's character, motives, and aims, had been put into her hands; and she was slowly trying to follow it out.

“Thank you, uncle, for telling me this,” said she, at length. “I am afraid we have been doing Bergan an injustice."

“You certainly have, if you have thought him a drunkard,” replied the Major. "But, nevertheless, he's no true Bergan, Carice ; don't have anything to do with him."

“No more than is just and right,” said Carice, quietly. And now I must go; mamma will be getting anxious. Come a little way with me, uncle, as you used to do."

The Major walked by her side down to the creek, and watched her anxiously across the dilapidated bridge.

“Don't come that way again," he called to her, as she reached the other end. “It's unsafe."

“Mend it then, uncle,” she called back to him. “For I like old paths—and old friends best."

The Major turned away with a smile. And all the way to the cottage he was saying to himself,

“ Perhaps I had better make my will."

keep my own old corner in his heart. I only came to see Maumer Rue, if I may. We heard she was dying. So I begged hard to be allowed to come and tell her that I had not forgotten how kind she used to be to me, and to see if I could do anything for her. I fancied it would please her to see me, if she is still able to recognize me. Is she?"

“Perfectly able,” replied Major Bergan, "and will be, I hope, for years to come. She has been very ill, but she is much better. She is now asleep.”

“Then I will not disturb her," returned Carice. And yet, I am loath to go back without a glimpse of her. Could I not look in upon her for one moment? I will be sure not to make a sound."

Major Bergan led her to Rue's cabin, and waited on the threshold, while, with her finger on her lips, to guard against any outburst of astonishment from the negro woman in attendance, she stole softly to the bedside, and bent over the sleeping Rue. A wondrously lovely picture she made there--a picture of such unearthly grace, delicacy, and purity, that the Major's eyes filled with unconscious moisture as he gazed.

Suddenly Rue's lips parted, in a dream. “The Bergan star !” said she. “ See! it rises !” And, after a moment, she added, decidedly, “He shall have Bergan Hall!"

Carice quickly stole out to her uncle. His face looked very gloomy, as he led her back toward the cottage.

“Carice," said he, suddenly, “have you seen your Western cousin ?”

"Bergan Arling? Yes, certainly," she answered.
How do you

like him?"
“ He seems very pleasant,” she replied, evasively.

“Seems !” repeated her uncle, gruffly. “What is the matter with him?"

I do not know, uncle. It is said that he is very dissipated."

The Major laughed ironically. “Nonsense! The most incorrigible milksop that ever I saw," said he. “That is why we quarrelled."

Carice looked at him doubtfully. “The very first thing that we heard of him," said she, was that he had been mixed up in a low brawl at Gregg's tavern."

“All my fault, Carice," returned Major Bergan, shortly. “I took him there, and cheated him into swal. lowing a glass of raw brandy."

Carice's blue eyes looked a sorrowful astonishment.

“I did not mean to do him any harm,” pursued the Major, answering their mute eloquence; “I only wanted to teach him to drink like a man and a Bergan. I loved the boy, Carice, like my own son, and would have kept him with me, if I could. But he forsook me for the law, the ungrateful dog!"

“Perhaps he had no choice," suggested Carice.

“No choice! Didn't he have the choice of Bergan Hall, and all that belongs to it? That was what was running in Maumer Rue's head, just now. But he pre


Sleepless Nights APPOINTED.

Doctor Remy possessed in perfection the power of rapid concentration of thought. Otherwise, he would have taken a divided mind to the bedside of his second patient, that night, after leaving Bergan Hall. As it was, he was glad when the stroke of midnight set him free, body and mind; the one to find its way mechanically to the hotel, through the silent moon-lighted streets of Berganton, the other to occupy itself in arranging and perfecting the details of a certain plan for his future advantage, which had suddenly shaped itself out before him, so distinctly, if roughly, that he had already taken an important step toward its accomplishment. It now remained to provide for the rest of the way.

Secure in the absence of all observation, the dark face kept on its way through the silent street, giving its features the fullest liberty of evil expression. Opposite the principal dry goods store of the street, it paused for a moment; its restless glance had caught sight of a faint gleam from one of the rear shutters, which was plainly not moonlight.

“They are up late," muttered the doctor, “or there is mischief afoot. Well! what is it to me?

Have I not

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enough else to think of?And he kept on his rapid way.

But the incident seemed to have set free the faculty of speech. Words began to drop from his set lips; short, disconnected sentences, through which, nevertheless, there ran a distinct thread of suggestion.

"I have waited long enough,"—so ran one of these half-involuntary utterances,-“I have waited long enough for Fortune's willing favours ; it is time to grapple with the exasperating jade, and wring them from her reluctant hands, by fair means or foul. For what else was I endowed with talent, daring, energy, and will, beyond most men? Not, certainly, to waste them all in earning a bare subsistence, or little more, as I am now doing."

"Is it my fault,” he went on, in broken, detached sentences,—“is it my fault that Fortune never shows herself to me, save at the farther end of some dark vista which the world calls crime ?-Pshaw! what is a life, one worthless, drunken, half-worn-out life, in comparison with the ends that I have in view,-increase of knowledge, expansion and perfection of science, and through them—as a casual end, I do not pretend that it is a direct one, for me~the advancement of the human race. The plan seems feasible, as much so, at least, as anything can be, in this miserable, mocking world, where Fate seems to delight in balking the best talent and deranging the artfullest contrivance. Fate, Chance, or Providence, which? Three different terms for the same thing ;-language would be more accurate, if there were less of it. At any rate, I have given Providence a chance. Let it take the responsibility of the result. If that will be not made! But to whom else should he give the place? He cannot abide either his brother or his nephew. And Miss Lyte comes next. Besides, there are ways of finding a will, at need. The essential point is, that no other be made.”

He was now nearing Mrs. Lyte's house, and the sight of it prompted his next sentence.

" Astra !—there, at least, the way is easy. Only, it must be secret; I doubt if the old Major would altogether relish me for his heir, despite to-night's increase of cordiality. As for Arling, it is said that history--"

Doctor Remy broke off suddenly. The subject of his soliloquy was calmly looking at him across Mrs. Lyte's gate.

"Pardon me for interrupting your conversation," said Bergan, with a smile which satisfied the doctor that he had not heard what he was saying, “One talks with one's self are sometimes very interesting."

“Why are you not in bed?” asked the doctor, with a sharpness that Bergan set down to professional anxiety.

“A man who goes to bed at six may well get up at twelve,” he replied, lightly, “especially if sleep forsakes him. Have you been out until this time?"

"Yes," answered the doctor, debating within himself

whether he would speak of his visit to Bergan Hall, and quickly deciding in the negative, since there was little probability that Bergan would hear it from anybody else ; inasmuch as the Hall led an independent, isolated life of its own, the events of which rarely made their way into the talk of the town. “It is nothing new for me to be late,” he added, by way of finish to his monosyllable.

“I will walk down with you as far as the hotel,” said Bergan, coming out, and closing the gate behind him. “Perhaps I may be able to pick up a few seeds of sleep on the way, which will sprout into another nap, when I return. What a night it is !”

“For lunatics-yes," said the doctor, dryly.

Among which you would doubtless class your humble servant,'

returned Bergan, “ if you could look into his mind, at this moment."

“Very likely," rejoined Doctor Remy, indifferently ; but he gave his companion a quick, keen glance, nevertheless.

Bergan was looking straight before him.

"Doctor," said he, suddenly, "I believe you know the world well; what does it do to the man who goes counter to its traditions and prejudices,—whom, in short, it is pleased to look upon as a kind of modern Don Quixote >"

"Laughs at him first, hammers him next, Alings him aside last," returned the doctor, sententiously.

“But if he does not mind being laughed at, bears the hammering without flinching when he must, hammers back again when he may, and will not be flung aside, what then?” pursued Bergan.

The doctor stopped short in his walk, and looked long and searchingly in the young man's face.

“Then,” said he, slowly, as if the words were drawn out of him almost against his will,—"then it gives way to him, and honours its conqueror. But," he added, “it is a long, exhausting contest. I do not advise you to

try it."

“Thank you,” answered Bergan, quietly. “I am inclined to try it, nevertheless. But here we are at the hotel. Good night.”

Doctor Remy stood on the steps of the hotel, looking moodily after him.

• What has he taken into his head now?” he asked himself.

He had not long to wait for an answer. In the morning the light which he had noticed in the rear of the dry-goods store, found it sufficient explanation in an empty safe and rifled shelves. A week afterward, a tall, ill-favoured man was arrested on suspicion of being concerned in the robbery. Two days later, it was known that Bergan Arling had positively refused to undertake his defence. In due course of time, it leaked out, through the amazed prisoner himself that he had done so because he believed it to be no part of his professional duty to try to shield a criminal from just punishment.


and any other friend who has no direct part in the cere. mony, take their places in pews near the font. During the first part of the service, the godmother holds the child, and places it on the clergyman's left arm when he is ready for it. When he says, “Name this child," it is for the chief godfather to answer. The nurse takes the child from the clergyman, for which purpose she stands at his right hand during the ceremony.

After the christening, the father goes into the vestry to have the child properly registered, and to give the fees. By law none can be claimed for a baptism, but they are always given. The clergyman receives a bank-note or one or two guineas, according to the position of the parents. In the Church of England the rite of churching generally takes place just before the baptism.

An entertainment, either luncheon or dinner, is generally given on the christening day, when baby in all the splendour of christening robes, is exhibited for general admiration, and the little one's health is drunk.

AMONGST the readers of The Young ENGLISH

WOMAN are many young wives—some of them young mothers, or about to become so—to them this chapter is addressed. There is an etiquette of birth as there is of death; and to people who say that at both times etiquette should be forgotten, I answer that it is easier, under the influence of strong emotion, to do things according to established custom than not.

On the birth of a child, the doctor generally expects bis fee before leaving the house. Friends and acquaintances either call as soon as they know of the happy event and leave their cards, or they send them by a servant with kind inquiries. No one expects to see the mother till she has acknowledged the kindness of her friends, and her reappearance in society, by sending her own card in return. Formerly, women received their visits while still in their room, which was decorated for the purpose. A peculiar drink was also prepared for the visitors, called caudle. Caudle-cups were of china, and had two handles; our ancestresses often passed them down as heirlooms.

The christening is usually fixed as soon as the mother is able to go out, when the child is about a month old ; but when the child is sickly, and does not seem likely to live, it is christened at once in the mother's room. In olden times, it was always the custom for baptism to take place soon after birth, as we gather from the following extract from Mr. Pepys' Diary: “We went to Mrs Brown's, where Sir W. Pen and I were godfathers, and Mrs. Jordan and Slopman were godmothers; and there before and after the christening, we were with the woman above in her chamber. I did give the midwife ten shillings, and the nurse five shillings, and the maid two shillings; but inasmuch as I expected to give the name to the child, but did not, I forbore then to give my plate which I had in my pocket-namely, six spoons and a porringer of silver."

We see from the above extract that it was the fashion to have two godfathers and two godmothers for children; now, a girl has two godmothers and one godfather, and a boy two godfathers and one godmother.

It is not now considered absolutely necessary for god-parents to make christening presents, but they may if they like; and they generally do like. There is much variety in the choice of these presents, though they are generally plate. A useful present is a silver basin and spoon, from which the child may eat its bread and milk.

Sponsors are not consulted as to the name of the child, but it is considered a great compliment to give a sponsor's name to a child. When a child is christened, the clergyman, followed by the sponsors, the nurse, and the child, proceeds to the font; the father and mother,

WEDDING. It is not considered “the thing" for the bride and bridegroom to see each other on this auspicious day before they meet at the altar.

The guests drive first to the church, and take their seats in the chancel. They do not form part of the group, it is no longer the fashion. The bridesmaids follow and take up their position at the church door to await the arrival of the bride. The bridegroom is meanwhile waiting at the altar. The bridesmaids form an avenue ; the bride, on her father's arm, passes through, the bridesmaids close in two and two, and the procession moves up the aisle. The bride stands on the left side of the bridegroom, and the chief bridesmaid stands near her to take her bouquet and gloves, while the ring is put on.

At the breakfast the bride and her husband are seated side by side, either in the middle or at the top of the table. It is the bride's duty to cut the cake, which bas, however, been cut before. She puts a knife into the incision, and a slice on to a plate. This is cut into small pieces and handed round.

The health of the bride and bridegroom and other toasts are drunk after the breakfast. When these are over, the bride retires to change her dress for a travelling costume, and the newly-married pair are soon whirled away.

The sending of cards to friends has been almost abandoned, and the words “ no cards," inserted after the announcement of the wedding in the newspapers, is supposed to do duty for the cards. This comfortable fashion has one drawback, friends do not know when to call. In town they obviate the difficulty by sending their cards first, and wait till they are returned before paying the call. In the country, a bride's first appearance in church is

the signal for visits. In the country wine and cake are offered on the occasion of a first call; in town they

never are.


IT: is pretty well known that the skating-rink at Prince's

Ground is one of the most exclusive spots in England; not even at pigeon-shooting Hurlingham is the crème de la crème of society more scrupulously guarded from adulteration. No lady is eligible as a member who has not been presented at Court, and, even when that qualification is possessed, the ordeal of choice by a committee of selection has to be passed ; so that ladies who exercise themselves on wooden skates or imitation ice are very great ladies indeed, and none but other equally distinguished personages are permitted to witness them gracefully disporting themselves. Fashion has, no doubt, something to do with the great favour in which summer skating is held; but, as it seems, the amusement is attended with some danger, that may account partly for the fascination it exercises. Englishwomen, like Englishmen of the right breed, like a spice of danger in their sport, of course excepting those whose pleasure lies in murdering poor birds in a “ tournament of doves.” Ladies enjoy a ride across country, even if a few raspers are in the way; many are excellent swimmers, and some, we really suspect, would vastly enjoy a game of cricket, were it not for certain impediments in the way of costume. “Sphairistike," or lawn-tennis, now coming into mode, and at which ladies are learning to distinguish themselves, really demands muscular activity of an almost masculine order. What would back-board schoolmistresses of the old times, or the waist-torturing preceptresses of the present, say to the quick runs, smart pick-ups, and general lithesome activity displayed in playing lawn-tennis? But skating on the rinks is really a dangerous play. If there is no danger of drowning as on real ice in winter, there is considerable probability of some very unpleasant accidents. We see a few recorded. One lady broke her arm; another her nose, which, in some respects, was even worse. If, said a satirical philosopher, Cleopatra's nose had been shorter, the destiny of the world would have been changed. Many a young lady's destiny might be changed if she broke her nose at a skating-rink. A well-shaped nose is a great beauty, although, of course, a nose of any other shape would smell as well. A young lady fell with such violence on her face that it was at first feared both nose and teeth were broken. Fortunately she escaped so great a dis

figurement; but the mere probability of having a flattened nose and false teeth at twenty may well bid us pause. A broken wrist is another casualty recorded.

The Prince of Wales is taking an active part in endeavouring to establish a National School of Music, where the very best instruction in the delightful art may be obtained. It is not quite clear, from the letter he has forwarded to the Lord Mayor on the subject, whether the proposed institution is expected to supersede the Royal Academy for Music; but it will probably have a wider scope, and the teaching, if not better, will be more accessible. England is rapidly taking place as one of the greatest musical countries in the world, and by England we mean, of course, the United Kingdom. We doubt if any other nation possesses a richer store of national melodies than are afforded by Scotland, Ireland, and Wales; and the musical instinct of the people is shown by the great development, within the last thirty years, of choral singing, remarkable for precision, mingled delicacy and vigour, and beauty and sonority of tone. If we cannot count so many solo vocalists and instrumentalists of the very highest excellence as Italy or Germany can, it is probably because the best artistic training has not been so accessible. We do not desire to make musical acquirements a national question ; music is the universal language, before which nationalities ought to disappear; but we should like to be able to take our part well, by the full development of our capabilities, in the music of the world, and we gladly welcome every aid to so legitimate an end.

It is very gratifying to see that the girls held their own so well at the Cambridge local examinations. At the distribution of prizes to the students who distinguished themselves at the examination in December last, as made at the London University, Burlington House, on the 7th instant (we note, by the way, that it was rather too bad to keep the recipients waiting for six months), Sir R. Vernon Harcourt presided and announced that, out of 919 girls examined, only 14 were rejected. He jocularly alluded to some mistakes made. When the girls were asked to state the quantity of paper required to paper the walls of a room, they gave the measurement of the area of the floor instead of that of the walls. We rather suspect the question was put in a clumsy manner, so that the girls were confused. At any rate, they were not so dull as the boys, who confounded discount with interest, exactly the opposite thing. We are led to suppose that the girls knew their interest better than the boys did.

On the writings of Shakespeare the examiners reported that the boys handled the subject clumsily, but it was said of the girls, which was characteristic of their sex, that they were fluent and ready, but, it was added, with some tendency to guessing. No doubt the feminine imagination and instinctive perception of character make Shakespeare more intelligible to them than to average boys. Early in life, girls commit poetry to memory more readily than boys can, and they almost invariably make better actors. As to the guessing, that was wrong, of course, but we must make some allowance for feminine vivacity of temperament.

We could suggest one or two quite new subjects respecting which girls might be examined. How many of these quick young ladies who answered geographical questions so correctly, could have given offhand the names of the rulers of the European States? Or, to take a subject in which young ladies may be supposed to feel an interest, “give the numbers and names of the marriageable princesses of Europe?" That is a matter of some importance; for there are marriageable princes looking out for wives-our own Duke of Connaught among them-and "none but royalty need apply.” It is a fact that all the unmarried young ladies of royal blood in Europe, between the ages of seventeen and twenty, may be counted on one's fingers; and as religious questions and political questions interfere very much with choice in respect of royal marriages, a young prince contemplating marriage has a very narrow range for selection. We have our own English Princess, Beatrice, the last unmarried daughter of Queen Victoria ; in Belgium, there is the Princess Louise, “sweet seventeen ;” in Denmark, the Princess Thyra, sister of our Princess of Wales, in her twenty-second year. Austria has the Princess Marie Christina, daughter of the late Archduke Charles Ferdinand; the Princess Louisa of Sweden, is twenty-four years old; Princess Elizabeth, of Saxe-Weimar, twentyone; Princess Pauline, of Waldeck, in her twentieth year ; and her sister, Princess Marie, eighteen ; Princess Ida, of Schaumberg-Lippe, twenty-three ; and these really end the list-nine in all, of whom two are Roman Catholics.

Writing about the probability of weddings, we are naturally led to notice a very grand wedding which took place on the ist of the month at St. James' Church, Piccadilly, when the Earl of Antrim led to the altar Miss Louisa Jane Grey, daughter of the late General Grey, private secretary to her Majesty. Such a brilliant company is rarely assembled, even at the most fashionable of weddings. The list of personal friends present in the church numbered at least two hundred, ali notabilities of the aristocracy and fashionable world. There were eight bridesmaids, wearing pale blue muslin dresses trimmed

with blue silk. Considering the confidential position the late General Grey occupied in the royal household, it was rather noticeable that no member of the royal family was present, but amongst the wedding-gifts were a magnificent Indian shawl and a massive gold locket, set with pearls and turquoise, gifts from the Queen ; a silver stand and smelling-bottles, from her Royal Highness Princess Louise (Marchioness of Lorne); and from her Royal Highness the Princess Beatrice a gold locket mounted with a diamond and ruby star.

But the most brilliant marriage of the month was in Paris, where Prince Amedée de Broglie, second son of the Duke de Broglie, led to the altar Malle. Marie Say, second daughter of the late M. Constant Say.

She brings a dower of £28,000 a year. The Marshal-President, Madame MacMahon, and all the elité were present.

By another easy mental transition, we pass from marriages to rings. If any of our young lady readers are not afraid of reading so generally ponderous a publication as the British Quarterly Review, we advise them to obtain the last number from Mudie's, and read a capital article on the jewels used on rings. “A posy on a ring" is one of the oldest forms of declaring attachments; and on that subject we will quote a few lines :-“In some cases, instead of words, the stones are made to tell the posy by means of acrostics. Thus, to obtain Love, the following arrangement is made-Lapis lazuli, Opal, V erde antique, E merald; and for love me,' Malachite and another Emerald are added. Names are sometimes represented on rings by the same means; and the Prince of Wales, on his marriage to the Princess Alexandra, gave her, as a keeper, one with the stones set co as to represent his familiar name of Bertie, as follows—B eryl, Emerald, Ruby, Turquoise, I acinth, Emnerald. The French have precious stones for all the alphabet with the exception of f, k, q, y, and z, and they obtain the worde Souvenir and Amitié by the following means-Saphir or sardoine, Onux or opale, U raine, Vermeille, E meraude, Natraliuthe, I ris, R ubis or rose diamant. A méthiste or aiguemarine, Malachite, I ris, Turquoise or topaze, I ris, E meraude."

We hear of a case of suttee from India. A young widow, with the connivance of her relations, burned herself on the funeral pile with her husband's body, and so secretly was the now illegal act effected, that the local authorities had no knowledge of it until too late to interfere. In China the suicide of a widow is considered an act of sublime virtue, and has just received a terrible sanction from the example of the young widow of the late Emperor. She was only seventeen years old, and less than three years since she was married to the Emperor, who died at the beginning of this year. She actually starved herself to death; and, says a Chinese newspaper, in a strain of grave approval," her early death is entirely in accordance with the national idea of what is most highly fitting for a wife so bereaved."

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