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'She told me so herself,' was the reply. 'I met her this moment on the stairs, flushed and trembling, but evidently exulting in her triumph; and I wished her joy from the bottom of my heart.'

And so do I,' echoed one or two of the group. A very starched, rather elderly young lady, remarked there was no accounting for taste. Another thought he might have done better, with a glance at some of the handsomest girls present, and a good long inward stare at herself; while the one who had tried hardest to get him, wondered how any girl could marry such a stiff, awkward man. Besides, who was he? If he had been well connected, he would have been only too glad to have boasted of it. Then he was only a city man! Not even rich, either. And such a name! She could not endure these common names; if it were for nothing else, she never could have married him. At which declaration, expressive glances were interchanged. One young lady coughed violently; another played a tune on the table; two others, who were seated rather behind the speaker, raised their eyebrows to each other in that peculiar manner understood to be a substitute for the words 'Did you ever?'

It was on a fine morning, in the middle of September, in rather a second-rate hotel at Leamington, that the above scene took place. A sociable enough party had been assembled there for three weeks; that is, the elder members were quite satisfied, and the younger had nothing tangible to complain of. They had the usual amount of walking, riding, dancing, quarrelling, and jealousies to amuse them; but there was a want of excitement, that daily craving of the young, and the more brisk among them voted the whole thing decidedly slow. What, then, must have been the general exhilaration, the whispered conjectures, the flutterings, the glancings, when it had become known, about a week before, that two gentlemen had arrived-young gentlemen, for they were both certainly under thirty-five-and that one of them had at once proceeded to throw out, in an easy, indifferent manner, hints as to the condition and intentions of the other. The friends were Mr Fortescue and Mr Thompson. The former, in spite of his aristocratic name, seemed to have no condition or intentions of his own. He was simply Mr Thompson's friend; he belonged to that class who neither have nor desire a position, and who enjoy life all the more that they do not seek to make any permanent appropriation of its component parts-birds of passage, who descend to peck here and there any sort of morsel, and who live a sort of cuckoo-life without any nest of their own. He had the easy, assured air of the race of which he was an accomplished specimen. Mr Thompson, on the contrary, was stiff, formal, and silent. You could not call him awkward, but he had the air of a man on his good behaviour, and as if an explosion might take place if he should at any time forget his lesson. He committed no overt act that could be called ungentlemanly, and yet you would have demurred to calling him a gentleman. He was rather tall and stout; regular enough features, a red and white complexion, a sort of nervous twitching of the eyes, and dark, strong, curly hair. His tailor had fitted him so tightly, that he seemed a prisoner in his own clothes; for instead of being a subsidiary affair, the clothing was the most important part of the man-as if Mr Thompson had entered into a signed and sealed compact with his tailor not to dishonour the work of his hands. To puff the wearer into a state of equality with these exquisite habiliments, was the special mission of Mr Fortescue-a mission he fulfilled to perfection. Nothing was overdone; he only said enough to invite

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inquiry, and to set the whole table into a frenzy of curiosity. If a person of importance were named, he would say: 'I don't know him, but I believe my friend Thompson does,' without appealing to him, although he was close by. He would begin to say something about his friend Thompson's house or possessions, and then slide off to another subject in a careless, dreamy way. If the party stopped in their rambles to look at a plant, he said: 'It's the same, I think, Thompson, you have in your'. then drop his voice, so that the last words were inaudible. One young lady declared it was 'garden at Kensington,' while another was quite sure it was at Camden and covered with a delicate veil of mystery, it was Town.' Thus gently and warily hoisted into notice, surprising how well Mr Thompson enacted the small part that remained for him. From the hands of his tailor he had passed into those of Mr Fortescue, who served him up with derivations to the assembled guests, who again perfected him according to the usual system of favourable prepossessions. stiffness was dignity, his awkwardness modesty. His silence shewed reflection, the nervous twitching of the eye indicated a quick sensibility, a slightly provincial accent gave him an additional interest -it sounded so foreign. Not but that there still remained some smouldering embers of doubt and distrust—they were only embers, however, and easily quenched. Why did Mr Thompson never say anything about Mr Fortescue? Fortescue was decidedly an aristocratic name, and Thompson as decidedly plebeian. Yet Mr Fortescue never spoke of his connections, nor of high people in general but with some reference to Mr Thompson. Then Mr Thompson, only a city man, did not appear at all proud of his association with this easy-dashing, of course west-end man. All this was puzzling; but then it was the very life and soul of a watering-place to be puzzled. Was it not just for want of being puzzled that the party were so dull and slow before this new arrival? Concerning whom, whatever was unaccountable was held to prove entire honesty and simplicity, and the absence of any desire of help from borrowed feathers. It certainly went to confirm this conclusion, that Mr Fortescue never propounded Mr Thompson as a rich man, but only as one in easy circumstances. His business was in the city; but whenever there threatened any too curious inquiry as to its nature, Mr Fortescue seemed to soar into some sublime alpine altitude of thought, far above vulgar mortal ken, or suddenly recollected an amusing story he must tell, or a letter he must reply to; so that at the end of four days, all that was certainly known of Mr Thompson was, that he was a city man-his business was in the city, that he had a villa in the vicinity of London, and that the world revolved for him at the pleasant rate of L.800 a year; to which was added, it was vaguely hinted, a sort of supplementary motion in its own axis, sometimes swelling the amount to L.1000, or even more, and that he was in search of a fair partner to share all these advantages. He was, then, no great match, still he was a match-a comfortable match; and as soon as this was voted, his became the simple part of a live automaton, who permitted others to pull his strings. For what so easy as to be flirted with, to receive fair and flattering words, to be danced, and sung, and played, and dressed at; to reply to the unasked question: Which of us will you have?' But Mr Thompson was not to get off so easily. He had come from London for a wife, and nothing was further from his thoughts than falling in love. What's love to a city man, or he to love, whose vocation in life is to buy and to sell, and to get gain? In Mr Thompson's visions of a watering-place wife, the tender and romantic had certainly found no place. That imaginative race called poets, however, whose sole art consists in always seeing something

where others see nothing, love to assert that there are wonderful depths in the heart of every man, if you can only find a line long enough to sound them; and that even city men have hearts as well stored with precious metal as their purses. Mr Thompson may have heard-we know not whether from the poet or the anatomist-that men have hearts, but was ignorant of the precise position of his own, till it was suddenly pierced by a dart from the eyes of the charming little fairy mentioned in the outset. She was one of those provokingly attractive creatures who cannot choose but make foils of the rest of their sex. She had that exquisite, easy grace which defies at once description and imitation. She was grave and gay, humorous and pathetic. Any dress became her, every situation suited her. The songs she declared she could not sing, or had forgotten, went off as well as the last practised one. The men writhed under her charms, and the women, except a very few, acknowledged their power. It was a great treat to see Mr Thompson in love: were we to attempt to describe it, we could only ask our readers to fancy the few signs of independent existence he formerly emitted, either totally suspended, or diverging into convulsive and grotesque forms. He made wrong or no replies to the simplest questions, and would come out with short volleys of speech without coherence. He sometimes knocked over everything that came in his way, and sometimes sat at table for an hour after the company were gone, intently studying, no doubt, the pattern of the table-cloth. He never was detected either speaking to or looking at his enchantress; but we have our suspicions that the curious twitching and winking, now in a state of great activity, concealed that hateful, furtive art of looking out at the corners of the eyes. When she sang, he shrank into the uttermost corner of the room, and sat with his back to her, looking like a criminal suffering under some exquisite form of torture. How he lashed himself up into a sufficiently demonstrative state, to propose to her, will remain for ever a mystery. She made no revelation. The tradition ran, however, that in his desperation, he did ask her three several times, and that it was only after the last refusal he found himself the accepted lover of Laura Crompton, the second of three daughters of a small proprietor in an adjoining county-a fine girl of the second water. The fun was all over then!-there was to be no more perplexity or excitement. Mr Thompson had come for a wife, and having supplied himself, he must retire and leave an open field. The very next day, the whole family of Crompton departed, and with them Mr Thompson. What became of Mr Fortescue, it is not for us to divulge; doubtless he went to pursue his friendly art elsewhere.

evil, how, within many a holy precinct, must the demons of discord and deceit crowd around such strangely thrust together pairs, 'to have and to hold' them in their grasp, gibbering and grinning and grimacing in their fiendish triumph, while the pure spirits of love and truth turn sorrowing away, and veil their faces with their wings! These twain, laboriously simulating to be one, leave the church and drive off, followed by the envious gaze of expectant brides, and the noisy shouts of village children, and are whirled to the bride's late home, where she sits with a doubtful feeling of her own identity, or what it all means, at her father's board; and after the usual din and clatter, the flow of soul following on the flow of champagne, Mr Hendon, the oldest friend of Mr Crompton, burly and rosy, but with an air of dignity that shewed he was rising with the occasion, called for a bumper to the health and happiness of the newly wedded pair, who were evidently, he informed the company, made for each other: she was amiable and accomplished; and as for Mr Thompson, it was very little he could say of him; but this he could with truth say, that he possessed the esteem of every one who had the good-fortune to know him; then bursting the fetters of dull prose, he quoted, with deep emotion, some lines about the spirits of true lovers not being parted even by death itself.

A short honey-fortnight was spent in dawdling through the country on the way to London, for Mr Thompson's business in the city could brook no further absence of its chief, and had he not already been gone five weeks? What honey might yet be remaining in the moon's wane must be sucked at Kensington; so thither they went, and on a cold, clear, starlight night in October, Laura arrived at her future home; and a most pleasant one it turned out to be, with its blazing fires and bright new furniture, amongst which were many tasteful articles, pleasant to the eye, and suited to the tastes and occupations of woman. Mr Thompson left early in the morning for the city, and did not return till late in the evening to dinner, when Laura hoped business had gone on well in his absence, and he hoped she had spent a pleasant day; they were quite disposed to be pleased with each other, and everything seemed turning out for better;' for at the end of a few weeks, Mr Thompson thawed and developed amaz ingly; became more at home with himself, and rather talkative, made quite a kind, good average husband in a plain unromantic way; and this pair who had found themselves one in such a sleight-ofhand manner, bade fair to add one to the many contradictions which wayward practice every day flourishes in the face of sound theory. When it began to dawn on Laura that she was really uprooted It was soon announced that the wedding was to from the parent soil, when she began to try to realise take place in a fortnight, for watering-place attach- the condition into which she had been whirled, ments are plants of hot-house growth, forced on by thoughts of inquiry also naturally arose in her mind. high-pressure flues, and brook not long exposure to Where were Mr Thompson's relatives? Why had none the free outward air of heaven; and thus it came to of them been to see her? Where even was that truest pass, that on a sunny morning in October, in the of friends, Mr Fortescue? When she would have given parish church of S- this man and this woman' performed the last act of their masquerade by kneeling before God's high altar, and swearing to love each other till death did them part. This man, because it was part of his scheme of life to have a wife; and she, because two of her companions, just her age, had been married a year ago, and because she had often heard her father-looking sometime at his daughters as if they had become less attractive to him, because they were not more attractive to other men-say that a woman's best chance was over at twenty-four, and she was past twenty-three.

If it be true that invisible spirits are perpetually hovering around us, luring and tempting to good or

audible vent to those inquiries, Mr Thompson always evaded them; she did not wish to be too curious, but glossed the matter over to herself; when she pressed him too nearly, she drew from him such a sad account of removals to a better world, and to remote parts of this one, that she was quite sorry she had so wounded his feelings. Laura was in no want of society, for her own friends and relatives were always welcomed by her husband; they might remain for days or weeks, it was all the more agreeable to him. She often walked out to meet him on his return from the city, sometimes as far as the east end of Piccadilly, sometimes further. One day when they met, she began to inquire into the precise nature of his business, but he interrupted her by some trifling

her; but the strange nervous twitching of the eyes, evidently produced by simulating blindness, revealed the awful fact! It was her husband! Mr Thompson was a beggar!

RESULTS OF THE ART TREASURES
EXHIBITION.

THE Executive Committee of the Art Treasures
Exhibition have just completed a formal statement
of their doings, difficulties, and success in the man-

remark in an embarrassed tone, and with an increased twitching of the eyes. Thus ended her first attempt: and the second, for which he was evidently prepared, only elicited that it was a sort of commerce she could not understand, even were he to explain it. In what street? was her next question. He stammered out a name of which she had never heard; but then there were so many streets in the city, this was no wonder. So all passed off, and time flowed on again in a quiet current. It was about three months after the wedding, and Laura had not only little to complain of, but she had materials for happiness, and was happy, and might have continued so, but for her perverse and womanly weakness for knowing all about it.'agement of that great undertaking. This document She was seized with such an uncontrollable fit of curiosity, that she resolved to be mistress of her husband's secret. She would follow him into the city; she would see the place where he carried on his business; and if no outward sign emitted its nature, she could mark the spot for future and wary inquiry; nay, what would hinder her, unknown as she must be, to learn the truth from some one on the spot? Her resolution was taken.

The very next morning, after talking gaily with her husband, and bidding him good-bye when he set out for the city, she hurried on her shawl and bonnet, adding a thick veil, and in an instant was on the road in secure sight of the poor unconscious Mr Thompson. What if he should call a cab, or jump into an omnibus? She knew he sometimes rode, but most frequently walked. What if he should stop to speak to some friend or acquaintances? She must, then, tack about, which would be awkward; but nothing is observed in London, and then Mr Thompson had no friends or acquaintances. For a time, he walked at an easy moderate rate, which gave no trouble to his partner, but as he approached the city, he so quickened his pace that poor Laura was ready to sink with fatigue. Heated and flurried, she sometimes lost sight of him, and then would make a rush forward, till she found herself almost touching him. When he got to the most crowded parts of the Strand, he sometimes slackened his pace, then quickened it, casting stealthy glances around him, which made Laura draw back and double her veil. At length, on coming to the corner of one of the many streets branching off from the Strand, Mr Thompson suddenly darted into it, and disappeared within a door that seemed to have been open to receive him; then instantly closed again, after the manner of doors in a pantomime. Overstrained by the hot pursuit, the tension of mind caused by her frenzy of curiosity, and the fear of being discovered in such a discreditable situation, Laura would have sunk to the ground, had she not leaned for support against the wall of a house nearly opposite. There she stood in a sort of blank stupor, for ten minutes, it might be twenty, when the door at which Mr Thompson had entered slowly opened, and three male figures came forth. One of them, though altered and shabby-looking, she instantly recognised as Mr Fortescue, the kind Leamington friend, who had so successfully puffed Mr Thompson up to the pitch matrimonial. The second her eyes fell on, she had never seen before, she felt sure. These two supported between them a wretched figure maimed and blind. He seemed to have no legs, or at least she saw nothing under the knees. The arms hung so loose, it seemed a doubtful case whether the necessary friction in giving support might not cause a total rupture. She was about to examine what, at the distance, appeared to be a scar or mark of some kind on the pale face, when the face itself O horror! No, it could not be Laura gasped for breath-her brain reeled-she turned away her eyes as if she could turn away the truth; for all other signs of identity might have deceived

will, by the time this paper is published, be presented to the public; and among much that chiefly regards those who were actively engaged in promoting the Exhibition, it contains many curious statistics, and other matters of general interest. As a permanent record of the way in which the thing was carried out, from the birth of the idea, in the first instance, to the very clearing of the ground on which the building stood, it will doubtless prove a valuable assistance to any persons who may hereafter engage in works of a similar character. A sketch of the origin and contents of the Exhibition, with an architectural description of the palace in which it was contained, was furnished by this Journal shortly after the opening ceremonial; it will not, therefore, be necessary for us to refer again to what most of our readers saw for themselves; but we may just state, as a fact illustrating the energy of the conductors of the enterprise, that within the short space of ten months from the time when the builders first broke

ground, a palace covering 18,000 square yards had been raised and decorated; and more than 16,000 objects of art asked for, granted, packed, and carried from all parts of the kingdom, had been unpacked, and placed in their proper department and order.

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The financial results of the enterprise are satisfac. tory, since it was not a speculation, and since it was no part of the plan of the projectors to realise a profit. It was not found necessary to trouble those 109 men of Manchester,' who made themselves jointly responsible to the amount of L.72,000, to meet any deficiency in the receipts; the balance-sheet, as now presented, shews a sum in hand of L.304, 14s. 4d. This result is favourable by comparison with previous exhibitions, all of which, except the Great Exhibition of 1851, entailed serious pecuniary loss upon the conductors; and in that instance, there were many circumstances which gave it a monetary advantage over its successor in the north-such as a free grant of land for the building, public donations, government aid, and the payment of packing and carriage expenses by the contributors themselves. In the case of the Manchester Exhibition, the outlay amounted to nearly three times the original estimate; yet, if the undertaking had been carried out in a less liberal and comprehensive spirit, no doubt the result, in cash and otherwise, would have been a failure. The total amount received was L.110,588, 9s. 8d., in which sum various items figure which deserve a notice. As shewing the extent to which the lower classes sympathised with the movement, we observe that the sum received from shilling and sixpenny visitors exceeds by about L.5000 that derived from the sale of the two-guinea and oneguinea season-tickets, together with the half-crown payments. The revenue obtained from taking charge

of sticks, umbrellas, &c., reached the large sum of L.1488, as many as 6000 articles of this kind having been deposited in one day. The profit from the sale of the authorised catalogues amounted also to about L.3300. As commission on the sale of medals struck in the Exhibition, L.327 was paid; and an omnibus proprietor found it worth while to give L.100 for the exclusive privilege of drawing up his vehicles close to the entrance-door. A curious entry, 'excess of cash over numbers indicated by the turnstile regulations, and for unpresented tickets sold,' accounts for no less a sum than L.320. The building, which cost L.38,000 to erect it (exclusive of fittings and decorations), when at last ignominiously brought to the hammer, realised only a little over L.7000. The list of expenses includes the large amount of L.11,531 for the packing and conveyance of contributions, and L.1958 for insurances. The largest sum received at the doors in one day was on October 13th, when L1361 was received, and upwards of 29,000 persons

visited the Exhibition.

A coloured and tabulated record of the temperature maintained in the building shews that the coldest day inside was the 10th of May, when the mean temperature was 43°; the hottest was the 25th of June, when the thermometer shewed 78°. The temperature was ascertained from the mean readings of eight thermometers distributed over the building, without reference to light or shade. During the summer months, the sky-lights were covered outside with calico, to protect the pictures from the direct rays of the sun; and as soon as the temperature within reached 70°, streams of water were pumped over the roof from fire-engines, which had the effect of decreasing the heat by about two degrees. The same table presents a statement as to the depth of rain at various times, from which it appears that the most rainy day during the Exhibition was August 13th, when it reached 146 inches, and on which only 4426 visitors made their wet way thither. With reference to the attendance, the total number of visitors as marked by the turnstile was 1,336,715, of which over the million were admitted by payment at the doors. Though this number of course includes all ranks, from royalty down to workhouse children, yet the number of offences against law or propriety seem to have been very small. The sixty-seven policemen present must have had but little employment, since only ten persons were handed over to their special care (chiefly for picking pockets), of whom two were discharged. No charge appears to have occurred in connection with any attempt to steal, or to inflict wilful damage on any of the articles exhibited. These facts speak much for the disposition of the lower classes to shew by orderly and peaceful behaviour their respect for what is intended for their enjoyment; and they may speak something also in favour of the humanising influence of such displays of

art.

As guides to the Exhibition, there were published twenty-two different catalogues, hand-books, &c., of various characters and descriptions, from the official catalogue, prepared by artistic hands, down to Tom Treddlehoyle's Peep at the Art Treasures Exhibition, written in the broad Lancashire dialect. Of the committee's two catalogues, 168,000 were sold. It would be difficult to estimate the sale of the other twenty. But as many of these were of more than merely local or temporary interest, it cannot be doubted that one of the immediate results of the Exhibition has been to circulate widely popular works respecting art, among classes of people who would otherwise have remained ignorant on the subject.

The paper used for printing the official catalogues weighed upwards of thirty tons, the duty upon which amounted to L.428, 4s. 74d. In another matter, also, the Exhibition contributed largely to the public revenue; the amount paid in postage, for the eighteen months, summed up to L.102, 2s. 10d.; the number of letters received by the committee during that period was 7066; of letters despatched, 16,888.

The arrangements for special excursion-trains entered into by the various railway companies were not so spirited and general as the committee had expected; they believe that their receipts were seriously affected by the apathy manifested in this respect. The number of special excursion-trains carrying passengers to and from the Exhibition, for one fare, was 349; and the estimated number of persons conveyed by them, 131,329. These trains were chiefly confined to the north-western parts of the country; those from the mining and manufacturing districts appear to have been generally well filled: we observe that no less than thirty-seven excursion-trains were from Macclesfield and the potteries. How much more might have been done by a judicious provision of excursion-trains from all parts of England, is shewn by the returns of the chief omnibus proprietor, whose arrangements for the conveyance of passengers in Manchester itself were universally admired. states that no less than 1,239,820 visitors were conveyed in his omnibuses to and from the Exhibition, and that an average number of 368 horses and 145 men were required to work the vehicles. The fares were 2d. and 3d.; and as each omnibus carried something like an equal number inside and out, the receipts must have amounted to about L.13,000.

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With a view to facilitate the obtaining of lodgingaccommodation, the committee established a registry for the purpose, at which more than 800 householders entered their names as having accommodation to the extent collectively of 2155 beds: about 2000 visitors availed themselves of this provision. Amongst the appendices to the report, we observe an enumeration of articles lost and returned to the owners, and of lost articles which remained unclaimed. In money, L.95, 18s. 91d. was restored to the rightful proprietors, besides 547 articles of various kinds; of unclaimed articles, there are 1038. A man need hardly be a Fellow of the Society of Actuaries in order to estimate from these statistics the number of chances to one against any loss of the kind; though, judging from the quantity of lost brooches, bracelets, lockets, shawls, mantles, veils, &c., it seems probable that the fair wearers of such things would have to insure at an advanced rate of premium. Odd gloves, walking-sticks, and seasontickets figure largely in this list-of the last there were sixty-three, all reclaimed; out of 264 walkingsticks, only one was restored; and out of 136 odd gloves, four only found their way back to their lawful partners.

The arrangements for packing and carriage appear to have been admirably carried out. Within a month after the close of the Exhibition, all its various and valuable contents had been repacked and returned to their respective owners. To each of the contributors the committee forwarded a beautifully illuminated card, on which were expressed their grateful acknowledgments for the favour and support accorded them. It is gratifying to know that no single instance of damage sustained by any of the contributors has come to the knowledge of the official managers; while from all quarters they have received flattering expressions of satisfaction from the proprietors of the articles intrusted to their care. The space on which the building stood is now cleared, and not a vestige remains of the vast assemblage of art-creations which so delighted England. The very field in which it stood has been ploughed over. Yet we may hope

that it has left behind it results which will act with benefit upon our age, to soften the manners and wake the soul to higher life, and that from the Art Treasures Exhibition, now past and gone, many a future artist and lover of art will arise.

STEAM VERSUS SNOW. 'BACK! back!-Quick!' cries the guard. 'Back!' shout the stokers, jumping down from their post mid-leg deep into the snow, which closes around them like water, and, driven violently by the storm, is rapidly freezing up every nook and cranny around and beneath the carriages.

Slowly and laboriously, groaning as if in pain, the massive engine moves backward.

The wheels are sunk up to the axles in a halffrozen medium, which resists their progress; while, at the same time, the feathery particles, reduced to a sort of fine dust by the fury of the wind, completely obliterate all trace of their passage.

In spite of the driving clouds of snow, and the piercing blast, the carriage windows are let down, and anxious faces lean out; but nothing meets their view but a wide expanse of spotless white, the surface tossed and agitated like the billows of the sea by the viewless spirits of the air. Through this snow-morass the carriage-wheels plough on heavily, while every moment it rises higher around the now scarcely moving train. Slowly and painfully the stokers wade on beside.

For a few minutes, it seems as if the enfeebled engine would yet have power enough to extricate the train from the deep snow-drift-at least in a backward direction; but the stormy air is laden with whirling flakes, that, falling noiselessly and rapidly, bury the machinery deeper and deeper.

Already the engine itself is nearly covered; the piston-rods creep more slowly up and down; a few irregular jerks, and all is motionless; while, as if the expiring energies of the engine had served as a signal to the spirits of the blast to fall with redoubled fury on their defenceless foe, the storm bursts forth with fresh vigour; and the heavy clouds brooding closer over the scene of action, discharge their contents in compact masses that make common cause with the wild drift whirling aloft to meet them.

'It is all up!' groans the guard.

It is all up!' echoes the engine-driver; while the stokers join in the dismal chorus. Through the windows, on the sheltered side of the carriages, the passengers' faces are again protruded, apostrophising the unfortunate guard.

Why, in Heaven's name, are we stopping here in the midst of this storm?'

'Because we are stuck in the snow!'
'When shall we reach Ensfeld ?'
'Heaven only knows.'

'But surely to-day at least?' 'Possibly; but possibly also not till the day after to-morrow.'

'Good gracious! Is there no way of escape?' From what, madame?'

'Guard!' shouts a rich proprietor, 'I have an appointment to-morrow in L, and I will pay handsomely to get on.'

Money can do a good deal, sir, but not against wind and snow.'

At last the much-tried official fairly loses patience with his tormentors.

'What the dickens, gentlemen, do you mean?' he exclaims rather angrily. 'Don't you see the storm that is raging? Can't you have patience in your snug warm carriages, while we're working outside in the cold and snow. We can't do more than we are doing. Everything is being tried to bring you on!'

A council of war is held; the poor fellows standing up to their waists in the white billows, and holding their heads aslant, so as to protect their red and swollen faces and watering eyes against the cutting blast. A message is despatched by the signal-telegraph (the electric has not penetrated into this part of Germany) to the next station: 'Send an engine on the left line of rail;' that is, the one opposite that on which the train is standing, as it seems more free from snow.

The warmest aspirations of the passengers and all concerned accompany the message, as it is spelled slowly out by the skeleton arms of the telegraph, alternating with grave doubts whether it will be visible through the darkened atmosphere.

Meanwhile orders are sent through the watchmen on the line to the nearest village, to collect as many sledges and horses as possible, and bring them on with all haste. The engine-fire is raked out, and precautions taken to prevent the tubes and pumps from being burst with the frost.

When all this has been done, a deathlike stillness steals over the train. The windows are shut, and the passengers sit silently, cooped up in a sort of twilight; for the light of the short winter-day penetrates with difficulty through the frosted panes. The stokers creep into a coupé, and only the guard on the roof, and the watchmen stationed to prevent surprise, are exposed to the pelting of the storm. Untiringly do the demons of the tempest labour to inter the lifeless corpse of the departed train; they shower down the crystallised flakes from above, they heap them up from below, they pour out their fury against the ponderous carriages till they rock like the reeds of the marsh; and it is only in the pauses of the storm that their trembling inmates can hear the fierce patter of the frozen snow on the roof and windows. At last, after two hours of painful surprise, a light tinkling of bells is heard in the distance, which tells of the approach of the sledges. The stokers jump out to receive them; but the doors of the coupé are blocked up with snow, and when the men at length alight, they are almost waist-deep.

Only two little peasant-sledges, one of which alone is provided with a tattered covering, are to be found in the village, and these wretchedly equipped vehicles draw up at some distance from the snow-drift, their miserable horses not daring to venture further for fear of being engulfed. The stokers with difficulty open the carriage doors and inform the travellers that there is now an opportunity of proceeding to the neighbouring village, and that any one who chooses may avail himself of it. But it is evident that the sledges cannot contain more than ten persons, and besides it is very uncertain, if one were in the village, how he should get out of it again and proceed on his journey.

The passengers crane their necks out of the windows to inspect the vehicles, which, covered with snow, are scarcely visible above the surrounding surface; but the sight is not encouraging, for after gazing gloomily at them for a moment, they shake their heads with a desponding gesture, and retreat into their fastnesses again. Three terrified ladies, who are determined, at any cost, to leave the ill-fated train, an over-confident young man, ambitious of playing the part of cavalier to the youngest, and an elderly gentleman, are the only persons who prefer the rude sledge and still ruder village to the sinking railway-carriage.

'But, mercy on us! how are we to get through that dreadful snow?' exclaim in piteous accents the mother and aunt, while the daughter, who foresees the inevitable dénouement, blushes until her fresh rosy cheeks, already purple with cold, assume a still deeper dye. 'You shall be carried, ladies,' interposes

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