them: it is their virtue and their fault. Extreme caution comes only from experience, and it is not desirable that girls of twenty should possess it.

So she sat through the morning hours, hemming her muslin frills, excited and nervous truly, but never doubtful for an instaut that the man who had pressed his lips to hers, and told her that in that impassioned salute there

66

was no harm," would come to her this day as he had promised. She would have been as likely to suspect her father of committing petty larceny as to suspect this man (who had kissed her with a kiss that seemed to make her his own, it was so warm and wild) of lying. Thus, with her strength unimpaired, her soul unshaken by a doubt, she came to a knowledge of the wounding truth at once, and bore it.

"Ffrench has left, I find," Mrs. Leigh remarked, as Theo seated herself, still excited but still happy, at the dinner-table.

"I think he might have come up to say good-bye," Mrs. Leigh replied; and Theo felt that her mother was looking keenly and anxiously at her.

"They mustn't be made unhappy," the poor child thought; "I'll speak at once."

"What took him away so suddenly, papa? he ought to have said good-bye to us, we have been so friendly."

She thought of that passionate kiss, and those impassioned words which had passed between them the previous night, as she spoke, and her brain reeled with the remembrance, and her proud young heart seemed as though it would burst with the sense of the indignity that had been put upon it. But still she spoke clearly; and she was rewarded for the effort she had made by seeing the anxious look pass from her mother's face.

"We shall miss him very much. I wonder whether he will ever come back, or if we shall ever see him again," Mrs. Leigh said briskly. The words were kind to the departed stranger, but the tone in which they were spoken told of the hope which she felt on the subject.

"Ever see him again?" Yes, it had come to this, that it was more than improbable that she would ever see him again-this man who had won from and shown to her such signs of love as she could never exhibit to another. His kiss was burning on her lips still; her heart had not ceased those quickened bounding pulsations to which his own had responded when he clasped her to his breast lastn ight! He had set his mark upon her, and she could never again be as she had been before; she felt this with a burning brow in the midst of her agony at losing him at all. But even as this feeling was stinging, this agony stultifying her, she

"He

"I dare say Mr. Ffrench will call on you in town," Mrs. Leigh remarked presently. said so much last night about the kindness we had shown him; it's little enough, I'm sure, after all, but I don't think he's one to forget even trifling kindnesses.”

"I don't think he is," Theo replied; she would not shirk the subject, but had she not been placed with her back to the light they would have seen that, steady as were the words, the lips that uttered them were quivering.

"Ffrench seems to have known many of the men I knew in Greece; it's odd I can't recall his name at all," Mr. Leigh observed, thought. fully, after a short pause. "There was a young Englishman whose name,-by-the-bye, what was his name? I shall forget my own next,who joined the expedition in a casual sort of way; but I never met him, and I remember now his name was Linley, so it couldn't have been Ffrench."

"Mr. Ffrench"-her tongue felt as if it had a mountain of alum upon it as she said his name "must have been too young for you to think about in those days, papa; being a young man yourself, I have no doubt that you despised boys."

"We must have come athwart one another too," her father rejoined, "for he was speaking last night of Mavrocordato and Church,―speaking of things that occurred in connection with them at the very time I was with them; odd I shouldn't remember his name."

"Very odd indeed," Theo thought, consi dering what a spell that name held for her, but she said nothing. Determined as she was not to shirk the subject, she was not capable yet of being an active agent in its continuance.

In the afternoon of that same day, while a consultation was being held as to the proper position which the frills were to occupy upon the blue muslin dress and mantle, Mrs. Leigh returned to the charge, and Theo was nearly asking for quarter.

"Do you know, Theo, I really can't help thinking it somewhat extraordinary that Mr. Ffrench should have gone off in that way. "In what way, mamma?" "Without coming near us to say good-bye; don't you "" ?

"Oh, I don't know."

No, mamma.

"But I suppose I was mistaken, otherwise he wouldn't have gone off in that manner; and I'm glad, as I was mistaken, that I didn't say anything to you about it while he remained.” "So am I, very glad."

"And I do think that it was very impolite of him to go away without saying good-bye to us: why, child, how you're trembling!" "Yes, ma. I have just got a woeful prick; the needle has alipped under my nail. Ahah!" (impatiently), "I can't work any more ; I'll go and get papa to go down on the marsh with me."

So she went out and secured her father's company in that her first visit after Harold Ffrench's departure to the spot on which he had made love manifest to her. For about Miss Theo there was no maudlin sentimentality; she was resolved upon abstaining from the luxury of making these haunts sacred and private.

But still it was hard to walk there and be all a daughter, nothing more, so soon, so very soon ! She did it, however, with how much pain and difficulty may not be known, since she never told. She even spoke brightly of that approaching visit to London, which now she would rather have died than have been compelled to pay.

Through all the intervening days she kept up with that proud resolve which this kind of trial is almost sure to develop in a proud woman's breast. Many a chance allusion nearly broke her down, and many a kindly word all but overpowered her. But she was strong and young and generous, and would neither be broken down nor overpowered before those who would most sorely have grieved to see her so.

Harold Ffrench had been very tender to her-tender in a way that no very young man could be; and the remembrance of this tenderness would come upon her with a rush sometimes, but never before others. It was only when the girl was alone that she bent before the memory of it, and blushed and turned pale in quick succession at the thought of how

warmly he had seemed to love, and how well he had deceived her.

Before others, though, she would neither repine nor repent: there "would have been weakness in doing either," she told herself; besides, repining and repentance on her part might have paved the way to others blaming him-her love, her demi-god, her vitalised Vandyck. There had been miserable misapprehension of his meaning on her part, or foul trickery on his; she could not bear that com ment should be made on either. So she suffered in silence and would not permit her appetite to flag; in which last there was, I think, the truest heroism, it being an awful thing to eat when one is ill in mind or body, ard an equally awful thing for all such as dwell in the tents with one to witness the daily increasing disinclination to do so.

So she ate and drank and made merry in the old way, and was to all outward seeming the same Theo she had been before this stranger came, and saw, and loved, and left her. But her father's frequent assertion, that she "was like a young bear, in that all her troubles were before her," grated harshly on her ears now. She knew that a something was gone from her mind which could never come back to it; a blot made on the surface of her life which no after happiness could eradicate.

She did not set herself to the task of solving the problem of his enforced semi-declaration and sudden exit from the scene. There was a something which had prevented that consummation which he had taught her to desire, but what that something was, God knew—she did not question. The result would be just the same; the cause was of little worth in comparison. That there had been something insurmountable she did not doubt; for she did not degrade her love and insult her own heart by deeming that it had been sought, gained, and rejected as a summer day's pastime by a motiveless trifler.

It was a sharp, deep cut that she had received; but she resolutely covered it up and kept the air of observation from it, and would not suffer it to fester. Sharp and deep as it was, it was a healthy wound, and she knew that it would heal perfectly in time, and leave no pain even though a scar remained.

While the wound was young, and before the efficacy of this mode of treatment could be said to be an ascertained thing, the day of departure arrived, and Theo Leigh went up to London with her father without so much as a hope now of even holding intercourse with his cousin, for the charming Mrs. Galton had made no sign.

(To be continued.)

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ΑΝΑ.

POLISH STATISTICS.-A recent account of the population of Poland gives the following particulars relative to the inhabitants of the country-The greater part of the land is in the hands of about 5,000 families, consisting of 25,000 individuals of both sexes; these constitute the high nobility. The class immediately attached to them comprises about 170,000 persons; these form the lesser nobility, most of whom possess a small piece of land, though the generality of them are said to regard the cultivation of it as degrading. It is from among this class that the functionaries are taken, and they also supply the higher nobility with many of their servants. The Roman Catholic ecclesiastics consist of 4,600 members, 2,218 of whom are priests, 1808 monks, and 521 nuns. Hitherto the clergy have had the privilege of tithing the whole of the natural productions of the kingdom, without respect to the creed of the proprietors. The number of the population engaged in trades and manufactures is estimated at about 930,000, of whom more than 580,000 are Jews. large proportion of these are under the direct influence of the high nobility: 228 of the towns they occupy of the 453 contained in the kingdom are the property of single individuals, and the municipal and judicial institutions are, in fact, under the direct patronage of the great proprietors. Of course, the influence of the nobility is still greater over the rural population, the total number of whom is estimated at 3,270,000, which may be subdivided into 1,277,500 small farmers, 522,000 peasant proprietors, plus 28,000 Jews, and the remainder is made up of labourers, who are described as merely serfs of the great nobles, or vagabonds, and whose condition is exceedingly wretched. This state of things is in course of alteration or amendment.

A FEW DAYS AT LYONS.

A

THE Paris Season was advancing, and the summer heat was already oppressive. Though the gardens of the Tuileries presented their gay attractions, and the stream of vehicles rolled as usual past the Arc de l'Etoile and along the Avenue de l'Impératrice on their way to the lake, the verdure, the shade, and the cooling freshness of the Bois de Boulogne, still the commonly laughing capital was beginning to appear somewhat dull. Paris, to say the truth, is moving out of town, and the Emperor having set the example of a sojourn at Fontainebleau, followed by an excursion to the baths of Vichy, his loyal subjects are rapidly making it the fashion to speed away to the country, and espe

cially to the beautiful Etablissemens des Bains, which are found more particularly in the Pyrenean region. Under these circumstances, business flags, and that which took us to Paris could not be completed; and so, having been frequently solicited to pass a few days with some old and cherished acquaintances in Southern France,

"Since all the world is gone," I observed, "let us go too-let us breathe for a short time the strengthening air of the Swiss mountains, and imbibe on our way thither the not less invigorating draughts which spring from the renewal of the associations of early friendship."

Nothing was necessary but to make our own bourhood of Lyons the time of our departure: arrangements, and to telegraph to the neighand this we did on the same day that we left Paris by the evening express, preferring at this season a night journey. As we wended our way southwards day dawned about 3 a.m., and before 5 every object was bathed in sunlight.

The country for many miles before reaching Lyons wears an aspect of great richness; the undulating hill-sides, and even the lofty eminences of the Côte d'Or, are covered with vines, while the more level country is verdant with crops and foliage.

The station was reached about 7 a.m., and there, accompanied by a young Englishman, we found the carriage of our host awaiting us, and were swiftly conveyed to his country residence. The sun shone brilliantly over the grim landscape through which the Saone flows towards the sea.

After reaching the confluence with the Rhone, its brother (the Saone being a La, and the Rhone a Le), we turned in another direction, and in a few minutes found ourselves within the lodge-gates and at the hospitable doors of a large country mansion. Even at that early hour life was astir; family groups were driving into the city; young ladies taking their morning exercise, and peasant women, shaded by large straw hats, were vending fruits and vegetables, which they carried on large barrows, to parties who chatted in groups at the open doors.

"Are monsieur and madame at home ?" we inquired.

"Oh yes; you will see them directly—pray walk in. Does madame require anything? Madame must ask for all that she requires. Madame must do just as she would do at home!"

All this was said in a few seconds while finding our way to our apartments, and in the purest French, by a young woman with

a remarkably sweet voice and pleasant countenance, and who, as we afterwards found, has been so fortunate as to have been in the family five years.

Dressed with great neatness and simplicity, and marked by a total absence of crinoline, and being of the pure peasant race, she reminded me of the servants of former years-a race, alas! now almost extinct, even in the remote towns of our island. On the landing we received a hearty greeting from our hostess, and having been saluted on both cheeks, we proceeded to inspect our apartments and learn their capabilities. They consist of a suite of three rooms, prettily-furnished and most exquisitely clean; a boudoir, which leads out on a trellised terrace; a sleeping room, where two small beds under the same canopy occupy about a space equal to that filled by an English fourposter; and a dressing-room, where an ample supply of water and towels, and even the luxury of a sponge bath, awaited us. Breakfast, we were informed, was at 12, "would we take tea, or coffee, or chocolate previously?" We had been unable to obtain anything during the night; the buffets being somewhat distant from the arrival platforms, it is almost impossible with short stoppages to reach them in time for refreshment, as we found to our cost, for after paying the exorbitant sum of two francs for cups of coffee, as they were served very hot, we were unable to drink them before summoned away.

We were therefore grateful when the same smiling damsel who had so cordially proffered her services reappeared with a breakfast consisting of café au lait, dry toast, butter, American biscuits, and new-laid eggs. This meal was brought to us in the boudoir, it being the custom of the country to partake of this first slight repast in private, leaving the guests and the family equally free to assemble in the salons at the regular hours, or as much earlier as they may find it convenient. At the midday meal (corresponding to an English luncheon, but somewhat more elaborate) several hot dishes of meat, followed by salad, cheese, butter, and wine, are introduced, and the collation is concluded with tea, which is now much more used than formerly in France, and generally found in private families to be of very excellent quality.

"What lovely scenery!" I observed to my husband; "the view from this elevation, the sight of such gorgeous flowers, the song of birds, and the general beauty of the surroundings will, I think, suffice to keep me in good humour during the time of our stay." But, as though nature were not sufficiently prodigal, there is the added charm of harmonious, intel

lectual domestic life; and though that life may differ from ours, why should we criticise,why not admire it, when it has the power of awakening and fostering the more generous affections, the loftiest and the holiest aspirations?

Here we find the father and mother of a family, surrounded with grown-up sons and daughters who occupy three châlets on the same estate, and at convenient distances for the exchange of family kindlinesses and courtesies. The rising generation revel among the flowers, or run at the sound of grandpapa's voice, who, though he evidently finds in them the delight of his declining years, does not spoil the little people.

Two English youths, domiciled with one of the members of the family group for the purpose of learning the language, are pleased to join in a game of cricket, and seem more desirous of teaching English to the children, or to the young ladies of their circle, than to press on their own studies, which might hasten their return home, so pleasant do they find their present life.

The greatest heat of the day being past, we drive, about 4 p.m., over a succession of bridges along the spacious quays, upwards of twenty miles in length and of immense width, which line the banks of the Rhone and the Saone. Everywhere these walks, planted with trees, protected by wicker fences from injury, and of which the growth is encouraged by copious waterings, are kept in excellent order; and sprinkled freely from a hose, which lays the dust without turning it into mud, they form agreeable and sheltered resorts. still they are insufficient for the recreation of a city of 300,000 inhabitants; and a beautiful and already extensive park laid out with shrubs and flowers, and artificial waters, is about to be still further increased for their enjoyment.

But