his tale when the boat reached the yacht. Sir Reginald was pacing the deck, as if anxiously awaiting Joe's arrival. He took the note from the seaman's hand, and glancing at the outside by the light of the moon, immediately retired to his cabin to open it. In a few minutes he returned again to the deck, and calling for Joe Strand, enquired whom he saw at the Hall.

"I saw the young lady herself, sir," replied the man. "And what did she say to you ?"

"She asked me if my name wasn't Joseph Strand? and if I didn't used to sail in Mr. Scupper's yacht? and then we talked about the strong breeze of wind we had one day, when her young-ladyship was aboard the Sooloo ; and then she gave me half-a-crown, sir-that's about what she said. But she's the most beautifulest and kindest young lady that ever I see. You'll excuse me for saying it, sir; but

that's my idea."

Just as Joe had finished his speech, one of the men who had accompanied him in the boat came forward, and informed Sir Reginald of the presence of the Diamond in the harbour.

"The Diamond?" said Sir Reginald, with much surprise.

"Yes, sir: we pulled alongside her whilst Joe was gone to the Hall. She came into the harbour to-day, only a few hours ahead of us, the rew say."

"Is Mr. Vare aboard ?"

"He was aboard, sir; but he's at the Hall this evening."

"Did the crew say if they were bound away to-morrow, or if they were to lie at anchor ?"

"They had no orders, sir, but said they thought it probable they should remain there two or three days."

Sir Reginald retired to rest in his bed-cabin, but not without some misgivings as to his ultimate success in attaining the object he sought. Not that Clara's note had inspired him with doubt or uncertainty; for that was written in her accustomed cordial tone of expression. But what could Vare be after at Littleborough? And then, to think that perhaps, at that very moment, he was playing at chess with her in a corner of the room; and perhaps alone with her, her mamma and Tom having left the room for some purpose! And thus jealous thoughts of that fair one, whom Sir Reginald loved from the very bottom of his heart, continued to haunt his mind; and he lay awake a couple of hours ere Morpheus closed his eyes.

Soon after breakfast next morning, the love sick knight repaired to Littleborough; where, as usual, he was welcomely received. Harry Vare was staying there; but Sir Reginald affected not to notice his familiarity with Clara, but treated him with customary civility and apparent friendship.

"I should have enjoyed a day's yachting with you, Sir Reginald; but, you see, I am so situated just now, that I was obliged to decline your kind invitation."

"Oh yes, Clara, I see the difficulty of your position. You have no wish to honour my vessel with your presence aboard, lest the other, which now lies by her in the harbour, should be jealous."

"It may be even so, Sir Reginald; but remember-that is your own assertion.'

"What are we going to do to-day?" inquired Sir Reginald, looking fondly in her face.

"Mr. Vare and Tom are talking of driving to Sideport, to get a new target, for the archery-meeting to-morrow. I am going to ride my saddle-horse to Thorley, to call on the Matsons, and ask them to come over to-morrow."

"Will you permit me to accompany you?"

"Oh, thank you, Sir Reginald. I shall be happy if you will. You can have one of Tom's horses."

This arrangement was exactly suited to Sir Reginald's mind, and quickly dispelled any previous feelings of disappointment he might have felt at not having charge of the fair Clara aboard the Tippoo.

Thorley was twelve miles distant from Littleborough; and Sir Reginald knew not a mile of the road. Clara was supposed to know it well; and, indeed, a doubt on that point was never raised. No domestic attendant accompanied the two equestrians; and for this only reason that the horses were all engaged. How singularly it happens, sometimes, that such-like apparently unlooked-for "nice opportunities" occur casually, and with far more pleasing results than the best arrangements could contrive. On this occasion, however, it may be a delicate consideration whether Sir Reginald, or Clara, or her mamma, were most pleased that it so happened; or what is a still further consideration, whether they were not all three secretly glad of such a fine opportunity. "We dine at six, dear, mind!" said Mrs. Littleborough to her daughter, as she left the room in her riding-habit, attended by Sir Reginald Runwall.

66

Yes, ma' dear. We shall be home, I hope, by that time; but it is a long ride, you know, and a warm day."

A riding-habit is always becoming to a pretty girl; and many look other. It was ten times more bewitching in that attire than in any just so with Clara-at least, in Sir Reginald's eyes; nor did he fail to use some little bit of flattery towards his fair companion, before they had cleared the domain of Littleborough.

you

you

That hat "I declare, Clara, you get more interesting than ever. have on makes look a little too wicked, though, I think." "Wicked! Sir Reginald? I hope not, I am sure," said Clara, slightly blushing, but smiling.

"It does indeed, though; and makes those dark eyes look very mischievous."

"I shall gallop away from you, if you are going to talk such nonsense to me," said Clara, putting her horse on a canter.

"It is not nonsense, but a fact, Clara-an indisputable, undeniable fact, unmixed with flattery or affectation."

Then it is just like you to say so. But gentlemen are all alikethey don't mean half they say."

You are very hard upon me, Clara; but you have ever turned a deaf ear to my speeches."

"Then you should not make such speeches."

Sir Reginald then endeavoured to hit upon some subject of conversation more agreeable to the feelings of his fair friend, and, it would appear, with some success; for, after an hour's ride, Clara found they had taken the wrong road, and were going wide of Thorley. She sug

gested their turning down a narrow road on their left, as one which would probably lead them into their direct route. But, deeply engaged in conversation, they rode slowly side by side, without thinking of time or distance, until another full hour had expired, when Clara suddenly reined up her horse, saying

"Dear me, Sir Reginald, I am afraid we are wrong now. the time?

"A quarter to three, Clara."

What is

"Good gracious! we have been more than two hours on the road; and I declare I am more bewildered than ever."

Inquiries were made of every person they met ; but in so remote a district there were few to inquire of, and fewer still who appeared capable of directing the lost equestrians to Squire Matson's, at Thorley. We will not pretend to give the reader a verbatim report of all the conversation which took place between them in the highways and byways through which they rode, but leave him to guess that tender words were uttered, and vows breathed, on one side, but on one side only. It was past four when they reached Thorley. They were to get home at six. The horses required rest; the Matsons insisted on their sitting half-anhour after lunch; and Clara expressed herself doubtful whether she could find the way home or not. She revealed the secret of their getting lost on their way that morning, to one of the Misses Matson only; but bound her firmly to secresy, saying she would not have her mamma or brother Tom know it on any account.

"But will not your friend Sir Reginald mention it himself?" inquired Kate Matson.

"Oh no," said Clara. "I have made him promise not; and, you know, a gentleman is seldom known to split."

"What a girl you are, Clara!" said her friend, laughing at Miss Littleborough's duplicity.

The half-hour having expired, and the horses being led round to the door, Clara sprang into her saddle, and Sir Reginald into his.

"Then you will all come to the archery-party to-morrow?" said Clara.

"Yes, dear," said three or four female voices.

"You will each of you bring a bow ?" said Clara, archly.

Quick as lightning, Kate Matson caught the pun, and replied

66

If we are not all provided, you have at least two to dispose of: therefore, that cannot be an indispensable injunction.'

On leaving Thorley, Clara and her companion rode at a brisk canter the whole way home; and for once in her life Clara proved a good pilot, and steered a direct course for Littleborough, where they arrived soon after the appointed dinner-hour.

The dinner-party consisted of none but the Littleboroughs, Sir Reginald Runwall, and Harry Vare; and passed off as pleasantly as may be supposed. A rubber was proposed, and carried, in the evening; but Clara kept both her lovers at a respectful distance, nor showed more favour towards one than another. Merry-hearted and cheerful to both, she could not fail to please; but had she made any distinction, with a view to flattering either, she well knew it would have been at her own expense.

Clara and her mamma having retired to rest at their usual hour, the

two yachtsmen sat up with their bachelor-host an hour later, to finish the day with cigars and spirits. As may be supposed, the conversation soon turned upon yachting, and the new vessels the two yachtsmen were building. It was not difficult for Tom, as a disinterested party, to gather from the conversation of the two rivals that each was sanguine of success, and had every confidence that their new clippers would eclipse all other yachts afloat.

There is no doubt in the world," said Harry Vare, " that Scupper's Sooloo is a wonderful boat; and I would give anything to beat her." "She is a fast vessel, certainly," added Sir Reginald, "but not so wonderful but another may be built to beat her."

"And if that is to be done, I should suppose Wanhill is the man to do it," said Harry Vare; "for he has nothing to do but improve upon the Sooloo's model (which he has on his premises), and it is then un fait accompli."

"Yes; but will he do so?" inquired Sir Reginald.

"I should suppose he will, for his own credit's sake," replied the other. "At any rate, from what I can see of my vessel in its present stage, I am willing to back her against the Sooloo for a hundred pounds, in a match to be sailed within a week after her launch."

"Will you back her against my new craft, for the same sum?" asked Sir Reginald.

"I will," replied the spirited yachtsman; "and upon the same terms."

"Then I'll take you," rejoined Sir Reginald.

"Bravo!" shouted Tom-" here's a sailing-match for a hundred pounds made up under my roof; and I am witness to it!"

"You shall be umpire, Tom," said Vare.

"Agreed," said Sir Reginald.

"Stop, stop!" said Tom. "Where shall I have to be placed, to officiate as umpire?"

me.

"Why, aboard some yacht moored in the harbour," said Vare. "Then I must beg to decline the honourable post you have assigned

If I could have performed the duties of the office from the beach, I should have had no objection to it; but, egad! you don't get me out to sea again, I assure you.'

The two yachtsmen laughed heartily at Tom's dread of salt water, joked him about his having once been on the brink of eternity in Scupper's Sooloo; and said they supposed he had seen more of the grandeur of a gale at sea on that occasion than he ever wished to witness again.

"Well, as to that," said Tom, "I saw nothing of it, for I was down in the cabin all the time; but, egad! I felt it."

The merry laugh of the yachtsmen again rang through the walls, until the midnight bell warned them of approaching morn; and they immediately repaired to their respective bed-rooms, beneath the roof of the fine old mansion of Littleborough.

Α DAY WITH LORD SHAMWELL.

BY HUBERT.

"Good morning, Dick," said the Squire to myself as he walked into the breakfast-room, in hunting tog, on a fine morning early in March. "So Pelican's not come yet. A nice sort of fellow he is to go hunting! Hounds meet at ten, and we have ten miles to ride; and, by Jove, it's striking nine! We'll begin breakfast at all events; I never wait for men who wont get out of their beds in time to meet hounds." Having said which, my good friend commenced laying upon his plate such a cargo of cold eatables as would have astonished any but a foxhunter of the olden time.

Squire Wheatland, under whose hospitable roof I was at this time domiciled, and whose opening breakfast-speech I have given above, was a good specimen of what has now become very difficult to find-a real old country gentleman. He kept his couple of hunters, sundry brace of greyhounds, and a few well-bred and well-broke pointers; and managed to live rather without than within his moderate income. Cwrw Hall, the family residence of this worthy relic of good old times, was, if possible, more old-fashioned than himself; and, with the exception of the entertaining rooms added by its present possessor some twenty years before, it had braved the storms of two hundred winters. Its oldfashioned stone hall, with its glorious wood fire, gave a glowing reception to either the chance visitor or expected guest, and seemed to give a foretaste of the hearty welcome to be looked for from the host himself; while the facetious-looking straw chairs, with which the fire-place was garnished, invited the frozen sportsman to repose and divest himself of his snow-clad shoes ere he sought his comfortable dressing-room. Such was Cwrw Hall. Mine host was a man of fifty, but carrying his age well, and still going so well with hounds as to disappoint continually many a youngster who longed to occupy the place he had so long monopolized; but the Squire was not to be denied, and, though he used to say that hounds ran faster than some twenty or thirty years ago, he always managed to be with the hounds, but never too near. The country in which his estate was situated was then hunted by Lord Shamwell, a nobleman who, after a long life of foxhunting, had learned in his old age to prefer having sport himself to seeing others enjoy it, and whose humbugging qualities, though they might not be admired, were certainly allowed and appreciated by all who had the honour of his acquaintance. On the morning on which I have introduced not only my host the Squire, but also myself (his friend Dick) to my readers, we were to meet Lord Shamwell's hounds at Parsley Wood, about ten miles from Cwrw. A friend of Wheatland's, Pompous Pelican, Esq., of Barbary Lodge, had sent his nag on over night to the Squire's stable, and was to join us at breakfast; but, as he had a knack of always being too late, we were