sence, especially with reference to a gentleman for whom I entertain a feeling of—"

"Love!" I said, with a stupidly indignant laugh, and an attempt at an air of tragedy. "But I care not. I will shoot him

within twenty-fours, or he shall shoot me;" and I started to my feet with a thorough determination to call out Fidilini without an hours' delay.

"For heaven's sake don't speak so," cried Angelica. "There will be murder; I know he 'll fight, and you might kill-"

"Thank you; I might kill him-yes: you don't seem to have any fears lest he should kill me. However, he shall have a

chance," and I strode towards the door.

"Stay," cried Angelica: and she seized my arm: "stay, you shall have my secret, and then I throw myself on your generosity. He is my husband!"

“ Fidilini ?—the devil!" I exclaimed.

"We are privately married," said Angelica, "but, for the present, do not let-"

Here we were interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. and Miss Staggers, who entered the room, to our great discomfiture. Angelica, with an appealing look towards me, hurriedly left the room.

If ever a poor wretch felt himself in an uncomfortable position, I did at that moment, and during the rest of that evening. Mr. Staggers brought home a city friend with him, obviously to avoid a téte-à-tête with me after dinner, but he took care to inform me, in a whisper, that his negotiation with my father had failed. I dare say he was very much surprised at the cool indifference with which I received this piece of information, for he little knew how worthless were the consents of the papas in the present instance.

Of all the artful little hussies that ever lived, decidedly that girl is the most complete! thought I, as I watched the quiet and composed manner in which Angelica behaved during dinner, and the evening which followed. She played and sang as freely as ever, and even expressed her sorrow that Signor Fidilini was not present, that she might sing one of her papa's favourite duets. If he had been present, I believe I should have strangled the fellow against all resistance.

How I passed that night, I wont say, but I did not sleep.

Next morning I was at the office as usual, and really trying to work hard to keep my thoughts from dwelling on Angelica. About ten o'clock, my father rushed into the room where I was seated at the desk, in company with Mr. Staggers.

"Villain!" cried Staggers, to me.

"You young scoundrel!" screamed my father.

I was really alarmed, for I thought that both those respectable elderly gentlemen must have gone mad. I stared, in openmouthed astonishment.

"Where's my daughter?" bawled Staggers.

Answer, sir!" shouted my father, as I looked, if possible, still more surprised.

"I don't know," I replied.

"You lie, sir," cried Staggers.

66

"You are quibbling, sir," added my father; we don't ask where she is at this very moment; you know what we mean." "Is she married?" said Staggers:

Really, I-"

66 answer that."

"Answer plainly, sir, and without shuffling," cried my father. "I believe she is," I answered.

"Believe! why, you young villain, when you know whether you have married her or not, how dare you talk about what you believe?"

"I marry her! I'm not married to her!" I cried, in surprise.

66 What the does all this mean?" exclaimed my father, losing all patience. "Miss Staggers has run off from her father's house-with you, it's suspected."

"Indeed!" I exclaimed, interrupting him; "then I suppose I may tell the truth; no doubt she is gone with her husband, Fidilini."

Never shall I forget old Staggers' rage and surprise when he heard my simple story; nor his savage indignation when my father (thinking only of his own son being out of a mess) exclaimed:

:

"I'm deuced glad of it."

I am going to the christening of Madame Fidilini's seventh child to-morrow. They like an old bachelor for a godfather sometimes, because he has no other children than god-children to provide for. Grandpapa Staggers will be there, and so will grandmamma and grand-aunt; and the latter will be very attentive to me, but she's more pinched than ever, and looks like a dried herring in figure and complexion. I shall dine with old Staggers afterwards, and he has some superb claret, much better stuff than -well, never mind, I have done!

65

REMINISCENCES OF HENLEY REGATTA.

BY AN OXFORD MAN.

I HAVE made it a rule never to allow public events, whatever their magnitude or moment, to interfere with my private amusements; and so, though I have no doubt that, to use the regular rhetorical phrase, "we are slumbering on the brink of a volcano," I was not deterred by the Russian ultimatum from enjoying myself during Ascot week. It is scarcely possible to realize the prospect of war, in such fine weather as this, unless it be the mimic hostilities on the plains of Chobham. On a warm June day, with excursion trains (on which accidents are no longer of daily occurrence) tempting one from metropolitan duties to every kind of ruralizing, it is difficult to feel that excitement which should stir all well-regulated minds, on the ultimate chances of any alteration taking place in the mode of worship under the dome of St. Sophia, or the effects of the "Kossack watering his steeds in the Rhine." I am not insensible to the dangers impending, and am an enthusiastic believer in "the balance of European power" and the "faith of treaties." I would not fiddle, like Nero, when Rome was on fire, nor did I ever in any way encourage those eccentric philanthopists who annually celebrate the downfall of Poland by a civic ball. But, during this week, in spite of Prince Menschikoff, and his modest proposals, "the Greek waters" and the squadrons cruising in them, and the fall of funds here, there, and everywhere, I have been unrestrainedly enjoying myself at Oxford, Ascot and Henley. I need not tell my readers, who were all there, of the style in which Teddington won the plate of the "Emperor of all the Russias," or how, on the banks of Isis, the vociferous undergraduates cheered and mobbed Mr. Disraeli, until they fairly drove him out of the town.

To all Oxonians and Cantabs, and to the people of the neighbourhood, this Regatta has become what the "Times" newspaper calls " a great fact." In the town itself it is looked upon as an institution. To the influx of cash during the aquatic week the hotel-keeper and the publican (not to mention sinners of other callings) look forward as a compensation for the unremunerating quiescence of the remainder of the year. Local scullers and rowers impatiently expect a triumph in their own "reach." The belles of the place choose their muslins in May with an especial view to undergraduate admiration, while their maiden aunts and citizen fathers are haunted by dismal forebodings of disasters which may happen to their knockers, and tremulous anticipations for their window-panes.

Well, my dear boating, or non-boating reader, suppose us to have arrived together any regatta day during the last five or six years at this fine old town on the banks of Father Thames. We VOL. XXXIV.

F

will not imagine it to be a wet day, because that is not the normal state of the affair. At any rate, it is not what it should be, for rain is as hostile to the true interests of regattas as to that of pic-nics. It may be here remarked, that it does rain on the recurrence of this great event about once in three or (perhaps to be more accurate) three times in five years, and it rains on only one of the two days, and on that day, although the company is somewhat select and limited, and includes only those who are aquatically earnest, yet the sport is always good. Well, I said just now, we would suppose ourselves to have arrived, but it is perfectly clear that we must have previously started, and therefore one word on that. Well, then, granted fine weather; myself up early (not often the case), breakfast comfortably over (by the by, they are always uncomfortable) at my chambers in the Temple, and you having declined to breakfast with me (in which you showed your good taste), punctually meeting me in time for an early train at the great railway terminus, Paddington. Granted also a great rush of Oxford and Cambridge men of all sorts and seniority. There is the badly dressed freshman, whose apparel is a sort of mixture between fast and slow; the noisily attired, but yet more congruous and confident under-graduate, who has not long achieved little-go, and is not yet victimized by thoughts of degree; there is the unmistakable difference between Oxonians and Cantabs, which an experienced eye can always see. Some are reading the "Times," one or two (I am sorry to say, but they are the sons of country gentlemen of Sibthorpian calibre) the "Morning Herald;" a great many are making small bets very largely; a few that have come together are chatting, while others are wishing to talk to their neighbours, but dare not trample on university etiquette, for they have not been introduced.*

Granted also, that we stop at a country town on the river, not many miles from Henley, and that we pass through this place (which, by the by, is like many other country towns, for it has a church with a clock that never goes right, a town-hall, a pump, and a post-office), and call at the house of some very charming and hospitable friends of mine, to whom we mention, quite cursorily, that we are presently going to drive over to Henley, and are immediately invited to accompany them in their carriage. Granted, in fine, that we have had a very delightful drive, fallen very much in love with the young ladies of the party, who are very pretty, and (as we at first imagined) taken up a good position, with the carriage in the centre of the bridge which commands the magnificent reach of river, where the contests will take place. In an instant twenty ragged rascals surround us, and demand vociferously their several rights to take care of the carriage and horses.

There is a very old story of two men of the same college meeting on Mont Blanc and not speaking; and it is still better authenticated that an Oxford-man, some years ago, seeing another drowning in the Isis, passed by like the Pries and Levite in the parable, and afterwards regretted very deeply to a musaal friend that it was quite out of his power to save poor for they had

never been introduced,

My friends have brought their own servants with them, but still these tattered harpies press themselves into the service, and pull the horses' heads about until we are backed against a neighbouring dog-cart, to the endangering of the shafts thereof. Before these fellows are driven off by our united efforts, three gypsies are on each side of the carriage, noisily requesting that their hands may be crossed with silver, and threatening us one and all with the longevity of Methuselah, and an offspring proportionately numerous. Before I can get my purse out to bribe them to move on, the prophetess nearest me has stated most audibly that I love the pretty lady (Miss Arabella), that the pretty lady loves me, that we shall be married in three months, and that Providence will twice bless us with twins, and these only four of a goodly 'heritage of thirteen children. Miss Arabella blushed hot. I am a shy young man, and so looked away very confusedly, attempting to make an unimportant observation on the probability of there being a shower, there not being at the time a chance of anything of the kind.

Before we have recovered from the effects of this most improper vaticination, a stout man, in a blue jacket and flannel continuations, observes to me, in a confidential tone, that, for half a crown, he will dive off the bridge into the river. From a sort of uncomfortable and malicious wish to get rid of him, even by seeing him drown himself, or almost equally in hopes of his starting off with the money, I reply, in a whisper, that I am prepared to advance the sum required. To my astonishment, instead of clutching the coin himself, he requests me to deposit it in the hand of a bystander, ascends the parapet of the bridge, and, to the confusion of the young ladies, divesting himself of the blue jacket, and indeed everything except the aforesaid continuations, and, to the alarm of their mamma, rapidly becoming hysterical, goes off headlong into the river. Scarcely able to conceal my exultation at the facetious expenditure of my half-crown, I fortunately detect in the crowd my friend Tomlinson, who was one of my set at Oxford, and who has now a curacy in the neighbourhood of Henley. I drag Tomlinson over, introduce him to Arabella, and then run across the road, to ask Spankey and Trevor, who are both making books on the regatta, what the odds are. I take this opportunity of strolling down with these two sporting worthies to the river side, while the Rev. Tomlinson is making himself agreeable to the fair occupants of the carriage. On the way we are requested to indulge in the pleasant pastime of stick-playing, and win innumerable useless toys, which we throw to a crowd of small boys, who scramble for them. Then, in despite of constables, the ancient game of thimble-rig is being clandestinely carried on in corners and quiet nooks on the side of the bank. While we are watching a freshman, who is always quite confident that he knows under which thimble the pea is, and see him, in spite of his acuteness, lose three half-sovereigns, our attention is attracted by three Henleians running past us in a frantic manner, cheering a sculler, who is progressing very slowly, and in such zig-zag fashion, that you think, for a moment, that the wind is ahead, and he is tacking.