fain would waft this token of love to her far-off parent. This was my latest remembrance of New Zealand life. CHAPTER III. DISASTER AND DELIVERANCE. AND now I was once more imprisoned for the homeward voyage in close companionship with thousands of letters, many of which were, doubtless, "Clogged with a weighty mass of joy and woe." It might have been my fate quickly to be removed from my new mistress's side, but so it chanced that she began to remove first the stamps at the other end of the sheet; and, accordingly, I remained undisturbed in my wonted resting-place; nor did I by any means desire a change, although occasionally some vague longing might arise to be informed of my future destiny. Stamp after stamp was withdrawn from my side, and I began to think that my turn must shortly come too. But about this time my young mistress disappeared from my view. The writing-Once more was I tossed upon the case seemed to be forgotten; it lay on the mighty waves of the ocean; and a dark table neglected and disused. On one and troubled destiny enough it seemed to occasion the little household was in un-be; and yet a deeper trouble lay before usual commotion. Mr. Arnold looked me. anxious and agitated. Next came looks of joy and words of thankfulness; and after awhile Mrs. Arnold was seen once more resting in her arm-chair, looking paler than before, but bearing in her arms a lovely babe, on whom her eyes rested with the fond rapture of a mother's gaze. Postage-stamp as I was, how could I remain unimpressed by this sight of domestic bliss, bearing as I did the image of her who, even amid the cares and pomps of royalty, shares in the joys and sorrows of the humblest of her subjects! Before long Mrs. Arnold was again seated at her desk, writing to inform her mother of her own recovery, and of the precious treasure she had obtained in her infant daughter. A tear once more fell upon her paper, but this time it was a tear of thankfulness and joy. The letter ended, she took up the sheet of postagestamps, and removing me from my place, fixed me on the envelope whose mission it was to bear the tidings of her happiness to England. So now my fate was sealed, for I was about to exchange my peaceful New Zealand home for the boisterous and troubled life of the ocean. One favoured moment preceded my departure; for Mrs. Arnold, as she held the closed letter in her hand, said, half-aloud, "I could almost envy this envelope the pleasure of being welcomed by my mother. Oh how fondly her eyes will rest upon my writing." And so saying, she pressed her lips on the honoured stamp that had just been affixed to her letter, as if she During a terrific storm, the good ship "Penelope" foundered upon a rock, and quickly went to pieces. The brief, stern word of command-the shrieks of terri fied women-the hurried rush of footsteps-all were quickly hushed, as the captain, with his crew and passengers, committed themselves to the boats, and thus escaped with difficulty to the nearest land; but most of the mail-bags were left behind, and a watery grave seemed to be now our inevitable lot. The leather bag in which I had been safely locked be came the sport of wind and water; and the cold splash of mountain waves soon penetrated its inmost recesses. No enviable position this. But aid was nearer than might have been anticipated. Boats were speedily dispatched in quest of the missing mail-bags, and it was some sort of relief in my present woful plight to find myself soon afterwards released from my prison-house, and exposed to the cheering light of day. Before long the rescued letters were placed on board a vessel bound for Old England, where in due time we arrived without any further mishap or adventure. But, alas! for the joyful welcome that was expected from Mrs. Arnold's mother! The letter so fondly sent by her daughter never reached her hands; for, owing to its damaged condition, the writing, both within and without, was so illegible that it was quite impossible to ascertain for whom it was intended, or by whom it had been written; so, after being duly in spected at the General Post Office, it seemed as if no better fate could possibly await me than a hopeless consignment to the dead-letter office. A doleful conclusion this to my adventures!-I, who, according to the ordinary course of events, might have been welcomed with transports of joy, as the bearer of good tidings to an English home, was to be cast aside as useless lumber uncared for, unnoticed, and to be, doubtless, speedily destroyed, with other post-office rubbish! to its written contents, placed me within the envelope, and soon afterwards consigned his epistle to a neighbouring letterbox, from which I was speedily extricated for transmission to the hands of my new master. CHAPTER IV. THE HUMOURS OF RUGBY. SWIFT on the wings of steam was I conveyed to Rugby, which, at the moment This anticipation was only natural to of my arrival, was in a state of extraordian unsophisticated postage-stamp, unac-nary excitement, for a great foot-ball quainted with the new-born fancies of the match was going on between "Old and European world; and thus a gloomy Young Rugby;" the claim of the former horizon overshadowed me once more, and class to antiquity resting solely on the all hope seemed to be excluded from my fact that they were no longer denizens of prospects. I had yet to learn that be- the school to which they were not the less hind the darkest cloud the sun was still still fondly attached. Eighty or a hundred shining with its genial, penetrating rays-youths, clad in their respective colours of a lesson which might, however, have been already learned in former days of peril and of darkness; but when wiser mortals are so slow in taking such teachings to heart it may be forgiven to a postage stamp to be sluggish of apprehension too. At this critical moment of my history it chanced that one of the post-office clerks, taking up the submerged letter to which I was affixed, and reading the motto on the seal, exclaimed, "Le bon temps viendra! A capital motto, I declare; for what would the happiest amongst us do without the aid of patience and of hope ?" "A good time is coming!" red and blue, gave a very gay aspect to the ground, and the well-worn turf of the School-close, which formed their place of meeting, was thronged with lockers-on, amongst whom were many Rugbeans of maturer age, come to enjoy the sports in which they had once taken an active part, several of them being accompanied by their wives or daughters, to whom they, doubtless, related their own feats of yore, beneath those venerable elms, which have overshadowed the sports of many generations of foot-ball players; for this is a game which has always been much affected by the Rugbæans. No words could be better suited to me Shouting, leaping, kicking the ball, at this epoch of my history; but what hearty peals of laughter-such were the hopeful change could possibly await me sounds echoing through the tall, leafy in my present forlorn and outcast condi-elms on Rugby playground when I was tion? The answer was not slow in placed in the hands of Charles Morton. coming. One of the officials, taking up A merry group of boys was gathered the letter, which had been just cast aside, around him, to whom he communicated observed that it was "an ill wind that the two most important items in the blew nobody any good;" adding, that as parental epistle. the stamp was not a bit the worse for its briny bath, he would send it to his son at Rugby, who was a keen postage-stamp collector, and to whom a New Zealand stamp would be all the more welcome from having shared in the wreck of the "Penelope." So saying he took out of his pocket a letter, which had been already directed to "Mr. Charles Morton, Rugby;" and, after adding a line or two "What a lark it will be for you to go to Switzerland, Charlie! You will get frozen at the top of Mont Blanc, and come back to be thawed in Old England!" "Show me the New Zealand stamp, that's a good fellow now. Well, her Majesty looks as if she had borne bravely the terrors of the deep. I wonder whether she had an interview with any royal mermen or mermaids in their coral palaces, with gold fishes gliding around them, and feathery palms waving over their heads." "What nonsense !" said Charles Morton to the last speaker, whose rich, buoyant accent revealed his affinity to the Emerald Isle. "Who but a Paddy like you would ever dream of mermaids and mermen ?" "No," observed another, "we are too far a-head for that sort of thing now; we don't believe such old wives' fables." "Well," replied Paddy, good-humouredly, "you are all welcome to believe just what you like about it; but John Bull is not famous for seeing far beyond his nose, though he is, of course, a vastly sensible gentleman." "Who dares to say a word against John Bull?" cried a tall, swaggering boy, who came up at this moment. "No one that I have heard of," replied the son of Erin. "I, at least, was commending him as a wonderfully sensible personage; but," added he, colouring, as for daring, I always dare to speak my mind without being afraid of anyone; that is the way in my country." "And a very good way it is," said an elder lad, who had just joined the party, and who seemed to be an authority among the boys. "But what are you all so busy about here?" inquired he of Charles Morton, who was evidently the centre of the group. Only about a New Zealand postagestamp, which I have just received from my father, who knows I am collecting stamps for an album." "After all," observed the swaggering boy, "it is only a colonial stamp.' "Only!" re-echoed the speaker, who had by his well-timed interruption previously prevented a quarrel; "only! do you not know that our colonies are the glory and strength of Great Britain? We have no business, therefore, to undervalue any thing belonging to them-not even a postage-stamp.' At this moment a new foot-ball match was about to commence; so the talk in which I had passively borne so prominent a part came to an end; and Mr. Morton's letter being placed in his son's pocket, I was left to ruminate on the singular changes that had, within a brief space of time, taken place in my condition. The peaceful New Zealand home--the perils of my way across the watery deep-the desperate condition in which I found my self at the dead-letter office-and now the noisy, animated scenes of a schoolboy's life-all had followed each other so swiftly as to seem blended together in true kaleidoscope fashion. Mine was still a restless state; but patience. "Le bor temps viendra!" Let us wait for it. When the day's excitement was over, my new master took me out of his father's envelope, and placed me in one of the folds of his pocket-book, amid many other stamps which he had collected for his album. Here I found myself in a heterogeneous company, gathered together from all parts of the globe: Russia, India, China, the United States, South Ame rica, Otaheite-all were represented by my present companions; and if only the story of each had been faithfully related, many a stirring tale might have enlivened the dulness of our position. Occasionally, Charles Morton would exhibit us to his companions, with some of whom he exchanged duplicates; and it was strange to mark the keen spirit of bargaining evinced by some of these youthful stamp-collectors. Sometimes, too, a vulgar spirit of boastfulness would betray itself by an assumption of superiority, from the possession of some rare stamp that "no one else had:" as if it were forgotten that selfishness could mar even the most innocent of our pursuits; while, on the contrary, a diffusive spirit of kindliness helps to enhance our own pleasure, by contributing to that of others. The summer vacation had now arrived, and my young master, with a band of joyous companions, sped on his way to London, where a happy family circle awaited him. His brother Oliver, too, was an ardent stamp-collector; so that there was a dis play of their respective treasures, and hopes expressed of a large accession to them during their approaching continental tour. The two youths had never before quitted their native land. They pictured to themselves with ardour their projected ascent of snowy alps, and walks over the icy fields which lie enfolded within their awful recesses. They talked together of the pleasant adventures they might encounter on their way; and so the rapid railway journey to Dover, which was to be their starting-point for the Continent, proved to be a right hopeful and merry one to the youthful travellers and their parents, who accompanied them. CHAPTER V. MY WANDERINGS IN EUROPE. My next exposure to daylight was in Paris, where the two young brothers speedily found their way to the Stamp Exchange in the Champs Elysees, where an animated traffic was going on at certain hours of the day among persons of divers ages and conditions. A wealthy American merchant, who had just received a newlyissued stamp from the United States, seemed as eager to dispose of it favourably as if it had been a matter of importance to him, saying, that he "could get any money for it." At this Exchange might be found people of many European nations-all busy collecting stamps; while some of them seemed most imperfectly acquainted with the geography of places of which we were the representatives. A Viennese post-office official, who chanced to be there one day, wounded my mour propre by inquiring where New Zealand was! On its being explained to him that it was an island far away, and a colony of Great Britain: Ah! I understand now," was his observation; "it is in Ireland, I presume!"* My young master, having a duplicate New Zealand stamp, was willing to exchange me for some rarer kind. I was stream flowed on at a little distance in front of the Hof, while a circling belt of Alps bounded the horizon on all sides— some dark, lofty, and rugged-some green with mountain pastures, and dotted with picturesque chalets. This glorious pano rama was best enjoyed from a long capacious balcony, which formed a sort of summer saloon, where the company met for reading and conversation. It was in this pleasant salon de société that I often found myself gazed at and commented on by Russians, Italians, French, and Germans. It chanced one day that I found myself in the hands of an Italian noble, who was conversing with one of his countrymen on politics. He gazed upon the likeness of her Majesty as represented, however unworthily, upon my outer surface. "Queen Victoria is a great sovereign, and governs a great nation," observed he to his companion. "Yes," replied the other, who was a Roman by birth; "they are great because they are enlightened and free; and we, too, when we have shaken off our trammels, will prove ourselves worthy of our ancient fame." Thoughts of a very different nature were awakened by my presence among the fairer portion of the society at Hor Ragatz. "Mais elle est charmante !" exclaimed a piquante French baronne, when contemplating her Majesty's liliputian likeness. "Mais! elle est charmante; et comme sa couronne lui sied bien!" (How well her crown becomes her). "Does Queen Victoria always wear her crown" inquired one of the party not, however, destined to pass so quickly of a young Englishman standing near out of his hands; for, after a brief delay her. in Paris, the family travelled into Switzerland, and fixed themselves for awhile at the Hof Ragatz-a spacious hotel near the celebrated Baths of Pfeffers. Here "She looks so good and kind," observed were assembled a numerous party, coma simple, naïve, German lady, who, with posed of various European nationalities the demonstrative romance so prevalent the hotel often containing from 150 to 200 guests. "Not always," replied he, with perfect gravity; "her Majesty takes it off before It was pleasantly situated in the Valley of the Rhine, whose broad and rapid * A fact. she retires to rest." amongst her country women, passionately kissed the likeness of Queen Victoria. Only once before had I been favoured with the pressure of rosy lips; and this unexpected caress brought back so vividly the remembrance of my gentle mistress R at the antipodes, that if it had been possible for a postage-stamp to breathe a sigh, I might have startled the fair and sympathetic German by this silent expression of my feeling. My young master, even amid his intense enjoyment of the frequent Alpine excursions which he made in company with his companions, never lost sight of his collection for the beautiful postage stamp album, which his mother had given him while in Paris. I had not, however, been favoured with a place in this much-prized volume-a duplicate stamp which he had received from a friend being preferred for that purpose. But what cared I for this preference? The wide world was before me, and some fitting nook would be found for me at the right time. So I was content with being gazed at and admired for the present, and let the future take thought for itself. One day, as Charles Morton was show. ing his stamps to some German gentlemen, one of them asked whether he had any colonial ones to dispose of, as he had been commissioned by a Russian nobleman to procure for him, at any cost, a perfect set of the postage-stamps used in Great Britain and her colonies, and that his collection was still far from complete. Charles opened out his budget, and feasted the eyes of his new acquaintance with a variety of colonial stamps, which were gladly appropriated by the German at a price that enabled Charles to procure many rare stamps for his own album. And so, without regret, I exchanged masters. Many and wide were my wanderings now; but those were dull and gloomy days with me, for I was left in quiet obscurity with my fellow stamps-not seeing or being seen. The crack of the postman's whip-the shrill whistle of the railway--the pleasant music of the human voice-these often sounded near at hand: and yet all was a dark blank_around us. And I said, "Once again am I to despair of the future? No, no; else wherefore the use of that well-remembered motto le bon temps viendra.' Let us, then, have patience awhile, and the good time' will surely come at last." CHAPTER VI. THE GOOD TIME COMES AT LAST. AT length there was a pause in our journeyings. We were taken out of the German's writing-case, and carefully in spected by him. We found ourselves in the vast empire of the Czar, amid its broad steppes, its dark forests, its palaces and its hovels, its princes and its serfs. What was to be our appointed place here? Soon was the inquiry satisfactorily answered, for our German purchaser delivered us up to a young nobleman-the Prince Dolgaroski, who paid without a murmur the handsome sum demanded by his agent. My present owner was of quite a different stamp from any of those with whom I had heretofore been connected. Noble and handsome in person, haughty in bearing, and yet kind to his dependants, he could not endure opposi tion from any of his own sex; but was full of gentle courtesy to the fairer por tion of creation-in short, like many of the higher class of Russians, he united the absolutism of the East with the outward civilisation of the West. And what did this princely Muscovite mean to do with us-the representatives of England, with her freedom of thought and action, her world-wide sympathies, her hatred of oppression, her equality of all men in the sight of the law? Before him was placed a splendid album, whose illuminated vellum leaves were bound together within a richlycarved ivory cover, the golden clasp whereof was richly studded with jewels. It was, indeed, a costly volume, whose delicate magnificence rendered it a fitting gift for some fairy beauty--such as we read of in the wondrous tales of Eastern lore. The Prince commanded one of his people to fix us all in our appointed places; and desired that care should be taken not to lose any of the stamps, as he required the book to be as perfect as possible. Now began the process of sorting and of placing us-a task which demanded no small portion of time and trouble; and when the leaves of that splendid album were unfolded one after the other, each new page appeared so rich in delicate |