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ing fashion to him as the Lieutenant pulled the strap of the nose-bag up; and one horse was safe.

There was less to do with Castor; that prudent animal, with his eyes staring wildly around, feeling his way gingerly on the sounding board, but not pausing all the same. Then he too had his nose-bag to comfort him; and when the steamer uttered a yell of a whistle through its steam-pipe, the two horses only started and knocked their hoofs about on the deck for they were very well employed, and Bell was standing in front of their heads, talking to them and pacifying them.

Then we steamed slowly out into the broad estuary. A strong wind was blowing up channel, and the yellow-brown waves were splashing about, with here and there a bold dash of blue on them from the gusty sky overhead. Far away down the Mersey the shipping seemed to be like a cloud along the two shores; and out on the wide surface of the river were large vessels being tugged about, and mighty steamers coming up to the Liverpool piers. When one of these bore down upon us so closely that she seemed to overlook our little boat, the two horses forgot their corn and flung their heads about a bit; but the Lieutenant had a firm grip of them, and they were eventually quieted.

He had by this time recovered from his fit of wrath. Indeed, he laughed heartily over the matter, and said

"I am afraid I did give that lounging fellow a great fright. He does not understand German, I suppose; but the sound of what I said to him had a great effect upon him—I can assure you of that. He retreated from me hastily. It was some time before he could make out what had happened to him; and then he did not return to the phaeton."

The horses bore the landing on the other side very well; and, with but an occasional tremulous start, permitted themselves to be put-to on the quay, amid the roar and confusion of arriving and departing steamers. We were greatly helped in this matter by an amiable policeman, who will some day, I hope, become Colonel and Superintendent of the Metropolitan Force.

Werther, amid all this turmoil, was beginning to forget his sorrows. We had a busy time of it. He and Bell had been

so occupied with the horses in getting them over that they had talked almost frankly to each other; and now there occurred some continuation of the excitement in the difficulties that beset us. For, after we had driven into the crowded streets, we found that the large hotels in Liverpool have no mews attached to them; and in our endeavors to secure in one place entertainment for both man and beast, some considerable portion of our time was consumed. At length we found stabling in Hatton Garden; and then we were thrown on the wide world of Liverpool to look after our own sustenance.

"Mademoiselle," said the Lieutenant rather avoiding the direct look of her eyes, however-" if you would prefer to wait, and go to a theatre to-night"

"O no, thank you," said Bell, quite hurriedly-as if she were anxious not to have her own wishes consulted; "I would much rather go on as far as we can today."

The Lieutenant said nothing-how could he? He was but six-and-twenty, or thereabouts, and had not yet discovered a key to the Rosamond's maze of a woman's wishes.

So we went to a restaurant fronting a dull square, and dined. We were the only guests. Perhaps it was luncheon; perhaps it was dinner-we had pretty well forgotten the difference by this time, and were satisfied if we could get something to eat, anywhere, thrice a day.

But it was only too apparent that the pleasant relations with which we had started had been seriously altered. There was a distressing politeness prevailing throughout this repast, and Bell had so far forgotten her ancient ways as to become quite timid and nervously formal in her talk. As for my Lady, she forgot to say sharp things. Indeed, she never does care for a good brisk quarrel, unless there are people present to enjoy the spectacle. Fighting for the inere sake of fighting is a blunder; but fighting in the presence of a circle of noble dames and knights becomes a courtly tournament. All our old amusements were departing-we were like four people met in a London drawingroom; and, of course, we had not bargained for this sort of thing on setting out. It had all arisen from Bell's excessive tenderness of heart. She had possessed herself with some wild idea that she had cruelly


wronged our Lieutenant. She strove to make up for this imaginary injury by a show of courtesy and kindness that was The fact embarrassing to the whole of us. is, the girl had never been trained in the accomplishments of city life. She regarded a proposal of marriage as something of consequence. There was a defect, too, about her pulsation: her heart-that ought to have gone regularly through the multiplication table in the course of its beating, and never changed from twice once to twelve times twelve-made frantic plunges here and there, and slurred over whole columns of figures in order to send an anxious and tender flush up to her forehead and face. A girl who was so little mistress of herself, that-on a winter's evening, when we happened to talk of the summer-time and of half-forgotten walks near Ambleside and Coniston-tears might suddenly be seen to well up in her blue eyes, was scarcely fit to take her place in a modern drawing-room. At this present moment her anxiety, and a sort of odd self-accusation, were really spoiling our holiday but we did not bear her much malice.

It was on this evening that we were destined to make our first acquaintance with the alarming method of making roads which prevails between Liverpool and Preston. It is hard to say by what process of fiendish ingenuity these petrified sweetbreads have been placed so as to occasion the greatest possible trouble to horses' hoofs, wheels, and human ears; and it is just as hard to say why such roads although they may wear long in the neighborhood of a city inviting constant traffic-should be continued out into country districts where a cart is met with about once in every five miles. These roads do not conduce to talking. One thinks of the unfortunate horses, and of the effect on springs and wheels. Especially in the quiet of a summer evening, the frightful rumbling over the wedged-in stones seems strangely discordant. And yet when one gets clear of the suburban slums and the smoke of Liverpool, a very respectable appearance of real country life becomes visible. When you get out to Walton Nurseries and on towards Aintree Station and Maghull, the landscape looks fairly green, and the grass is of a There is nature to support animal life. nothing very striking in the scenery, it is


Even the consciousness that away beyond the flats on the left the sea is washing over the great sandbanks and on to the level shore, does not help much; for who can pretend to hear the whispering of the far-off tide amid the monotonous rattling over these abominable LanWe kept our teeth well cashire stones? We crossed the small shut, and went on. river of Alt. We whisked through Maghull village. The twilight was gathering fast as we got on to Aughton, and in the dusk-lit up by the yellow stars of the street lamps-we drove into Ormskirk. The sun had gone down red in the west: we were again assured as to the morrow.

But what was the good of another bright morning to this melancholy Uhlan? Misfortune seemed to have marked us for We drove into the yard of what its own. was apparently the biggest inn in the place; and while the women were sent into the inn, the Lieutenant and I happened to remain a little while to look after the horses. Imagine our astonishment, therefore, (after the animals had been taken out and our luggage uncarted,) to find there was no accommodation for us inside the building.

"Confounded house!" growled the Lieutenant in German; "thou hast betrayed me!"

So there was nothing for it but to leave the phaeton where it was, and issue forth in quest of a house in which to hide our It was an odd place when we heads. A group of women regarded us In vain we invitfound it. with a frightened stare. At length another ed them to speak. woman-little less alarmed than the oth- made her appearance, ers, apparently and signified that we might, if we chose, go into a small parlor smelling consummately of gin and coarse tobacco. After all, we found the place was not so bad as it Another chamber was prepared looked. Our luggage was brought round. for us. Ham and beer were provided for our final meal, with some tea in a shaky tea-pot. There was nothing romantic in this dingy hostelry, or in this dingy little town; but were we not about to reach a more favored country-the beautiful and enchanted land of which Bell had been dreaming so long?—

"Kennst du es wohl? Dahin, dahin,

Möcht' ich mit dir, O mein Geliebter, ziehn !" [Note by Queen Titania.-I confess that I can

not understand these young people. On our way from the Fairy Glen back to Bettws y-Coed, Bell told me something of what had occurred; but I really could not get from her any proper reason for her having acted so. She was much distressed, of course. I forbore to press her lest we should have a scene, and I would not hurt the girl's feelings for the world, for she is as dear to me as one of my own children. But she could give no explanation. If she had said that Count von Rosen had been too precipitate, I could have understood it. She said she had known him a very short time; and that she could not judge of a proposition coming so unexpectedly; and that she could not consent to his leaving his country and his profession for her sake. These are only such objections as every girl uses when she really means that she does not wish to marry. I asked her why. She had no objection to urge against Lieutenant von Rosen personally-as how could she?-for he is a most gentlemanly young man, with abilities and accomplishments considerably above the average. Perhaps, living down in the country for the greater part of the year, I am not competent to judge; but I think at least he compares very favorably with the gentlemen whom I am in the habit of seeing. I asked her if she meant to marry Arthur. She would not answer. She said something about his being an old friend -as if that had any thing in the world to do with it. At first I thought that she had merely said

No for the pleasure of accepting afterwards; and I knew that in that case the Lieutenant, who is a shrewd young man, and has plenty of courage, would soon make another trial. But I was amazed to find so much of seriousness in her decision ; and yet she will not say that she means to marry Arthur. Perhaps she is waiting to have an explanation with him first. In that case, I fear Count von Rosen's chances are but very small indeed; for I know how Arthur has wantonly traded on Bell's great generosity before. Perhaps I may be mistaken; but she would not admit that her decision could be altered. I must say it is most unfortunate. Just as we were getting on so nicely and enjoying ourselves so much—and just as we were getting near to the Lake-country that Bell so much delights in—every thing is spoiled by this unhappy event, for which Bell can give no adequate reason whatever. It is a great pity that one who shall be nameless-but who looks pretty fairly after his own comfort-did not absolutely forbid Arthur to come vexing us in this way by driving over to our route. If Dr. Ashburton had had any proper control over the boy, he would have kept him to his studies in the Temple instead of allowing him to risk the breaking of his neck by driving wildly about the country in a dogcart.]

(To be continued.)

[From Macmillan's Magazine.


THE outward appearance of the city of New-York has been so often described that it is tolerably well known to English readers. The fine bay, with its white sails and the usually clear blue sky overhead, forming so great a contrast to the Mersey, gives at once to the American-bound traveler a comfortable sense of breadth and cheeriness. There is nothing dull to look at; nothing hopeless; nothing hateful in ugliness and gloom. And Broadway, although we may find it much narrower than we imagined, and very disappointing in the incongruity and tastelessness of its architecture, (with the wretched flag-staffs of different sizes on every roof, and flaunting signs stuck up at every door-post,) has still an attraction from the novelty and the scale of many of its buildings, and there is a display of wealth and bustling eager activity about the street that give it a character of its own. Fifth Avenue, too, with its handsome brown stone houses, and the trees bordering the pavement in their fresh green, is a sight to please the eye. It is a sort of street we have not been accustomed to. It is typically American. It would be difficult to match its three miles in com

fort and sightliness. It is already built out to the Central Park, the great pride and glory of New-Yorkers. Within the last ten or twelve years this park has been formed out of an absolute wilderness of rock. The roads in it are perfect. The turf is admirably kept, and no English lawn can look brighter or greener than it does in spring. Fine timber there is none, and never can be, owing to the want of depth of soil, but flowering shrubs and small trees there are in abundance, with several artificial lakes very picturesquely laid out; and whether in spring-time in its freshness, or in the fall, when Autumn's " fiery finger" is laid among the leaves, the Park has a bright, pleasant appearance, with its crowds of well-dressed people walking about, and the numerous "wagons" with fast-trotting horses.

When the ordinary tourist, without letters of introduction, asks what more there is to be seen in this the third largest city in the civilized world, it must be difficult to direct him. There are one or two collections of modern pictures in private houses open to view, which might interest him for half-an-hour. If addicted to education or

charitable institutions, he can occupy some time and receive much valuable information from visiting the schools and the other buildings devoted to these purposes. If commercially inclined, the shipping and the "Bulls and Bears," in Wall Street, will claim attention; but at the end of three or four days he must join in the general verdict of travelers, which has not been favorable to New-York. Now, although it must be admitted that, as a metropolis, it is very deficient in objects of general interest, the ground on which it may claim both attention and study has scarcely been traveled over by any foreigner. That ground is the interior life of this most American of all American cities. For in their social as well as in their political innovations Americans exhibit the same tendency towards an equality of conditions. In both cases the general result is a wonderful average of content with less of extraordinary eminence in culture and refinement than may be found among the few in such a country as England, but with a much wider diffusion of apparent happiness among the many.

The same Englishman who devoutly thanks Heaven that he does not live in a land where gentlemen take no part in the government, and where such frauds can be perpetrated as have recently come to light in New-York City Administration, will return thanks with equal fervor that his wife and daughters do not squander his substance in millinery, nor their own time in frivolities. Scarcely, perhaps, giving due weight to the fact that however deplorable certain blemishes may be in the practical working of these American institutions, the country, whether by aid of them or in spite of them, thrives, and, in the one case, the spectacle is presented of forty millions of the best educated, the best fed, the best clothed, and the most contented people in the world; and in the other, that whatever defects may be found in the social organization, one end, and not an unimportant one, is attained—namely, securing a very great amount of happiness for a very large number of young people by encouraging them in constant opportunities of meeting, of getting to know one another, and of marrying. This latter feature is of special interest to us in England, for we are becoming so ultra-civilized, that love-marriages are in some danger of going altogether out of existence; the prevalent and

growing idea of man's real enjoyment being, apparently, to get away from petticoats-at any rate from reputable petticoats. In America, on the other hand, scarcely any amusement is popular in which the presence of ladies is not the essential part. The "tournament of doves" languishes in New-York because ladies will not go there. Compare one of our metropolitan racecourses, and take Ascot as one of the most lady-like, with the Jerome Park Meeting at New-York. As a question of racing sport, the latter at present is nowhere; but such a circumstance could not occur there, nor indeed at any racemeeting in the country, as is too apt to happen to any one taking ladies on the course at Ascot. Your carriage gets jammed in between two drags, containing choice spirits of that class of the youth of England who delight to regale themselves after luncheon with the peculiar style of ballad literature known as "Derby Songs." The coarser the language, the better the pay to the wretched women who sing them. There is nothing for it but to take ladies away till "the fun" is over. Such barbarity tolerated in England, not among the lowest, but among the highest in rank, would be an absolute impossibility among any class in America. Not that there is, by any means, a higher tone of morality in New-York than there is in London, but impure associations are very sedulously banished from the sight of the pure, and all that particular class of vice, at any rate, pays the tribute to virtue of keeping itself absolutely apart.

The example of a racecourse may be more striking than any other; but it is not necessary to go so far for an instance. Take an ordinary croquet party, or a yachting party, or a picnic; or, better still, take the general way in which average young gentlemen in the two countries will spend a holiday. In London, it will be a party of men to shoot, or hunt, or row, or play cricket, or whatever else it may be; it will seldom occur to them to take ladies with them as one of the elements in their pleasure seeking. It will as little occur to the same class of men in New-York not to take them. There the first thing thought of is a matron, and as many young ladies as there are gentlemen; and whether they drive out for a game of croquet and a dinner to the Four-in-Hand Club, or to see the horses in training at the Jockey Club,

or steam up the noble Hudson to picnic among the Highlands, or go to some house in the country for luncheon and a dance afterwards, or down the bay in a yacht, or (if the season be winter) on a sleighing party, the great point aimed at the circumstance from which the chief pleasure is expected to be derived-is the association of ladies and gentlemen together. And this association, which is thus prized, esteemed, and, one may say, lived for by American men, can not be said to be more than tolerated by Englishmen, and that not always with the best grace in the world. We see the results in the dreariness of our garden parties, our croquet parties, our archery parties, where the entertainment consists of twenty-five men protecting themselves as best they can from the advances of seventy-five ladies; most of the latter nominally in the capacity of matrons, as if two or three matrons were not enough for a whole party.

In America we find women, and especially unmarried women, holding a higher rank, relatively to men, than they do in this country. More deference is shown to them more courtesy. They are encouraged to feel that they are the most important element in the social happiness of the men; and the consequence is, among the better, but not at all uncommon styles of girls, there is a most charming want of constraint, affectation, or mannerism. They are very little conventional or self-conscious, and the just mean is very often found where perfect freedom does not verge on forwardness, pertness, or fastness. And this is due, not merely to the difference in the numerical proportion of men and women in the country, but it must also, in great part, be attributed to the independence in which American girls are brought up from their childhood. They become recognized leaders in all amusements, and are able to dictate a tone to society. For society seems to be a good deal like any other bully, a very great coward when made to feel the strong hand, and young ladies, aware of their tremendous social power when organized, cease to be satisfied with graceless inattentions from men; nor, under such organization, is it possible that there should exist the public recognition, not to say condonement, of that "great social evil" which in England, though confined perhaps in its most prominent aspect to the few "very high in the realm," nev

ertheless is accountable for a tone and position which men of all classes are apt to assume towards ladies,—a position of complete and unconcealed independence of their society. And is not this want of community between men and women in their interests and amusements

the little rift within the lute, That by and by will make the music mute,' and that is said of the sweetest of all music here in England?

The prevalent English notion of NewYork society is that it is a perfect sink of iniquity; but bad though it may be, and its best friend could not say much for some sections of it, there is nowhere the same effrontery in vice as can be seen in London or Paris.

Another and perhaps a stronger point is that Americans are very far indeed from recognizing the inherent superiority of boys over girls which is admitted without question in most English families, and which was so well satirized some years ago by Punch, in the story of the school-boy at home, asked by a visitor the number of his family, and answering, "Well, if you count the girls, we're eight. I'm one." The taunt may go for what it is worth, were it not that the poor girls pay the penalty of their inferiority in a form appreciable by the dullest understanding or sensibility,namely, in being left 20,000l. where their brothers are left 200,000l. if their parents are wealthy! In America they share and share alike. And all the advantages that money can buy will be lavished on the daughters, while the sons will be turned into a counting-house or lawyer's office at seventeen or eighteen years old, and will be made to work for their living, with little or no money help from their fathers. It is not therefore altogether surprising that in their own estimation young ladies on the other side of the Atlantic have, as they themselves would phrase it, a much more "lovely time" than their cousins here. From their childhood they assume the position of the greatest importance in society. When they are seven or eight years old they go to "dancing schools," or classes, where they meet boys two or three years older than themselves, and from that time forward they are thrown into constant association with the other sex. It is quite true that American children are generally abominations, and this early making little

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