ment and gratification I unearthed a small wooden box, secured by iron clasps, and on it the word Delorme spelt out in nail letters. Just at this moment Mr. Stukeley descended once more into the cellar, and I handed him the prize in triumph.

And what do you say this wooden box contains, Mr. Leslie ?' 'I have every reason to believe,' I answered, that the contents consist wholly, or in part, of diamonds.'

'Diamonds!' he exclaimed, and a peculiar light shone in the banker's eye. I do not say that a thought of repentance passed through the mind of this upright man, but bankers know full well the value of diamonds. They may be described as the essence of ready money. And though there appears to be something of a glut of them in these days from South Africa, gold has increased much more than diamonds, and the price of them has risen very greatly in the market.

The kind-hearted banker only insisted on such proofs as would be fully satisfactory to his own mind. We showed him the repentant pirate's letter, which he read with the deepest interest, and showed him-which was easy enough to do the direct line of descent in the Delorme family. Then the casket was handed over.

My dear reader, you all remember the jewel scene in Gounod's Faust. You possibly have seen many a prima donna therein— Miolan Carvalho, for whom the part was originally designed; and Patti and Albani and Nilsson in these present days. How delicious and delirious is Margherita's happiness as she bursts into lyric raptures, as she fastens on the neck

lace and earrings and bracelets, and her diamonds and her beauty alike flash back in the glass. Not otherwise was the innocent excited happiness of Flora and Fanny over their casket of jewels. They were not so handsome, indeed, as a Mephistopheles might have devised; but we considered that the Mephistopheles element had been exorcised, the evil spirit laid, what time the honest pirate had buried the witch's pearl necklace in the earth.

'O you dearest clever boy!' said Fanny, flinging her arms round me, and giving me the sweetest kisses which I had ever had in my life. You have come among us like a fairy prince, and have made us poor people so rich and happy, and I am ready to marry you any day that you like.'

The diamonds were converted into all good things, and although the girls declare that it was a horrid shame to part with such beautiful treasures, I have reason to believe that they were not averse to the advantages of exchange and barter. There were enough diamonds for all of us. On the strength of her share, my Fannythat is to say, Mrs. James Leslie -drives a pair of the most beautiful ponies in the world. She still retains a few diamonds that suit her matchless hair and eyes, and I tell her that she is to her husband a treasure beyond rubies, and that she herself has 'the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit,' which is better than diamonds. A monument rises to the memory of our far-off benefactor by that broad water of the West,' and the residue of our family fortunes is under the care of Mr. Stukeley, that best of bankers.

Ir is curious to reflect how the majority of married couples may be said to have drifted into the wedded state. Some chance meeting, some trifling circumstance, is in many cases the commencement of an acquaintance that ripens into a life-long union.

"That not impossible she Who shall command my heart and me' is rarely (save in France) introduced to us in orthodox form as our future wife. We stumble on our fate unexpectedly in nine cases out of ten: a visit to a

country-house; a shower of rain, which induces us to lend our umbrella to a stranger; a journey by a public conveyance,-all these may be the first steps on the road that leads us into the proverbial 'lane which has no turning.'

We sheltered a young lady from a shower of hail at a flowershow, and little thought then that she was the future Mrs. Brown. When we assisted that old gentleman and his daughter at the railway-station, nothing was further from our thoughts than matrimony; yet in another twelve months that young lady was standing beside us in the full glory of white satin and orange-blossoms. As for accidents, if I ever met with one by road or rail, and was conveyed to a private house for recovery (people always are, in novels), I should, if a single man, fully expect that a a beautiful daughter of the house would un dertake the post of sick-nurse, and eventually become my wife.

After all, it was through an accident that I did get married. Not the orthodox fall from a horse, or injury in a train; but an CHRISTMAS, '80.

accident of another kind. Twenty years ago I went to my first curacy. I was young then, and, except for my school and university career, had never left home before. I found myself terribly lonely at first, at Martin-on-Sands. It was a dull respectable little watering-place, on the east coast; with the usual row of white houses with green blinds facing the sea; the usual esplanade;' the usual little shops where shell ornaments were sold. It was an intensely quiet place; its inhabitants proudly boasted that no excursionists ever came there,' indeed there was nothing to attract them. There are two types of English seaside resorts: the gay and noisy, where donkeys, bands, and niggers flourish; and the quiet spots like Martin-on-Sands, where existence is peaceful, not to say stagnant. People with large families came to us during the summer and autumn, lodgings and provisions being reasonable, and the sands affording capital playgrounds for the children; but the town was not a lively residence at the best of times. The vicar was an old man greatly afflicted with gout, and the chief work of the parish devolved on his curate; but there was not very arduous toil for either of us. Most of the townspeople had realised the Wise Man's wish, and possessed' neither poverty nor riches.' Except season visitors we had few gentry among us; small lodging-house keepers, shop-keepers, and fisher folk making up the bulk of our population. At the same time we had hardly any actual poor. The fishers were, as a class, quiet hard

working people, and seemed able to earn enough to keep themselves and families in fair comfort. Of course there was the usual routine of parish work, church services and school, sick and aged people to visit; but I found my time certainly not too well filled. Mr. Gray, the incumbent, disliked anything new, and would not have permitted any additions to the usual round of my parochial labours; so I found plenty of leisure in which to be dull.

were a large merry family at home; and sometimes, sitting by myself in my lodgings, evening after evening, time went slowly enough. A few months after my instalment in my new post, I succeeded in persuading a married sister to come to Martin-on-Sands with her children. This was, indeed, a pleasant change for me, and nearly every evening I used to go round to her lodgings to enjoy a chat with her and a romp with the children, with whom I was a great favourite.

One dark autumn evening I had started out later than usual-a visit to a sick man had detained me; but I was anxious not to omit my usual call, as Helen was to return to London the next day. I hurried along the neat row of houses which formed the aristocratic quarter of our town, and rapped at the well-known door.

You need not announce me,' I said, passing the neat maidservant; 'I am expected;' and I hurried up-stairs. Just outside the drawing-room door lay a large blackfur rug, which I had never observed before. As I looked at it the idea struck me that I might make a brilliant entrance into the room on this farewell visit. It was past seven o'clock; all the children would be assembled in the drawing-room after their tea. I would enter in the character of a bear.

Wrapping myself in the rug, I opened the door and crawled in on all-fours, emitting sundry growling sounds. A scream greeted me-that was to be expected; but in place of the laughter that ought to have succeeded it, I was terrified to hear a shrill female voice, certainly not Helen's, exclaiming, 'Thieves! Murder! Rose, Maria! help, help!'

Stunned for a moment, I hastily began to disengage the bear-dress; and when I got the length of my knees with my head free, to my dismay, found myself in a strange room, with two strange ladies standing opposite; one young and very pretty, the other a much older one, who stood intrenched behind a chair, in which she had doubtless been peacefully dozing until disturbed by my abrupt entry. It must have been a shock to her to be awoke from tranquil repose by the sight of a strange animal crawling in at the door, nor was the discovery that the animal was a strange man likely to reassure her. As for myself-a German author has noted in his diary that at a certain date he behaved as a fool' I certainly passed a similar mental verdict on myself. I had evidently entered a wrong house by mistake, and played what looked like a practical joke on an entire stranger. It was a dignified and pleasant position for the curate of the parish to find himself in! If the story spread to the rector's ears! Mr. Gray was a starched specimen of the old school of frigid politeness, who abominated levity of demeanour, and I am sure would not have crawled on all-fours had his life depended upon it. I was young and shy, and my absurd position was really no joke to me. As soon as I could find breath I essayed to explain matters to the frightened and irate old lady. I apologised most hum