was scarcely strong enough for the strain to which his insatiable desire to dazzle exposed it.

Accepting as his right the reputation of a fashionable artist, Drew now conceived the new ambition of shining as a man of fashion. His connection by birth with several good families, his splendid physique, the subtle charm of his presence and address, rendered the task an easy one. He soon had the entrée to the houses of the leaders of rank and fashion; and, to hasten the remarkable tale, in less than a year led an earl's youngest daughter to the altar. During the succeeding two years, Drew and Lady Cecilia became themselves the leaders of a certain section of the world,' but at such a pace of ill-regulated expenditure, that in little over two years, in spite of repeated assistance and the intervention of friends, the record of their folly was duly published; and a retreat to the continent became imperative. Lady Cecilia died soon after in giving birth to a son; and Drew, thus cut off from the sphere of fashionable display, philosophically resumed his palette and brush.

During these years, my father had seen little of Drew, and had heard but seldom from him. The year after his wife's death, however, that irrepressible once more arrested the attention of the world by the exhibition of two pictures, which, with uncommon unanimity, the critics pronounced to be master-pieces. My father hastened to London-saw, and worshipped. He met Drew, whose dégagé appearance had more of the traditional artist than he had ever before affected; was charmed with the cordiality of the great man's reception of him, and spent much time in his society. Upon my father's return to the country, he carried Drew's autograph in his pocket-book, for the possession of which he had parted temporarily with two thousand pounds. Soon after this, and according to arrangement, my father and his erratic friend made a tour together through Worcester and Gloucestershires. The artist was a companion to whom the most fastidious could not object, his conduct and conversation being those of a gentleman and man of culture. A disdain of the world's applause was indeed sometimes traceable in his manner and remarks; but the impression made on my father's mind by this indifference to what men usually long for, was such as rather to enhance his respect for his fellow-traveller. I find many circumstances noted in Mr Charlton's diary at this period which go far to redeem Drew's name from the charge of original or premeditated heartlessness, even discounting them at the high rate demanded by my father's utter want of knowledge of the world. He was both good-hearted and open-handed, and capable, as many incidents showed, both of selfsacrifice and magnanimity. But the sequel

For Drew had still another and as yet unbent string to his bow. He did not at once give up his studio or his painting; but he now sought more and more constantly the society of men on 'Change-merchants, brokers, and Company promoters, and appeared less and less in the coteries of art. His new associates soon recognised his consummate capacity as a financier; and Drew's name began to figure on the directorate of first one and then another Company of the very best repute. He then commenced to finesse with stocks and shares-his caution at first being equal to his judgment, with the result of giving him once more the command of considerable sums of money; with these he continued to speculate, till in a few years he had repaid my father, set up once more a handsome establishment, and kept his carriage and riding-horses. Everything he put his hand to seemed to flourish; and it is evidence of his ability as well as honesty of purpose, that every one of the Companies he was personally instrumental in floating has proved a commercial success. His hand, however, was getting weary holding this cumbrous mercantile plough. He sought to amass wealth speedily, and then seek fresh woods and pastures new' for the exercise of his genius. In short, he began to plunge, now successfully, now disastrously. His transactions demanded frequent accommodation, which he at first obtained readily, then with difficulty, at last-on no consideration. What representations he made to my father to obtain possession piecemeal of his entire fortune, I know not, but I do know that it was swallowed up in the desperate attempts Drew made to break his fall by Stock Exchange gambling. The crash came at last, and this gifted but infatuated man disappeared for ever from English society, to die poor and alone in a humble lodging at Rome.

My father was a ruined man. He had not only lost every shilling of his money, but stood, at the time of Drew's flight, responsible for bills to the extent of several thousand pounds. His friends advised him to seek immunity through the courts; but he stolidly declined. The presentation to the living of Brierleigh came opportunely. My father then entered into an arrangement to pay interest on the debt with a portion of his revenue, and to reduce the capital as circumstances would allow, meantime undertaking to maintain policies of assurance to cover the amount, in the event of his death. He refused my Aunt Marjory's generous offer to place the whole, of her own money at his dis posal to relieve himself of the terrible incubus. It was a debt of honour and friendship,' was his only formula to every protest. And for over twenty years, that little studio under the southern garden wall was the scene of a sustained and heroic, if quixotic, struggle to acquit the memory of his unstable friend, regarding whom to the end he spoke only with sorrowful pity and regretful admiration.

My mother's health, I have said, was never robust; she gradually declined, and left myself and sisters orphans before I had reached my

tenth year. My sisters both died in their teens. And Aunt Marjory, who had taken my mother's place, devoted her entire income to educating me for the profession of my choice.

FEEDING THE FISHES.

A NEW-JERSEY EPISODE.

DEEP in the heart of the New Jersey pineforest lies a lake, some two hundred acres in extent, whose clear bosom, tinged, by the cedar swamps through which its tributary streams flow, to a rich amber colour, reflects with the faithfulness of a mirror every shade of the luxuriant autumn colouring of the sumach, gum, maple, and dwarf-oak which fringe its banks. On its north shore is the only break in the broad belt of forest by which the lake is surrounded, and here a trim little frame-cottage peeps out over the water from amid a cluster of Virginia creepers, climbing roses, and magnolias. The garden which surrounds it forms a quaint combination of the useful with the beautiful, shade-trees, shrubs, and flowering plants being intermingled with wide-spreading grapearbours loaded with luxuriant bunches of Concords and Delawares, apple and pear trees whose branches bend beneath their load of ripe fruit, and water-melon vines, whose luscious greencoated produce looks all the more inviting for the close proximity of a stream of clear icecold water, in which one or two monster melons are already immersed, waiting for dinnertime.

A quarter of a mile away, the railroad threads its way through the pinewoods, and a little wooden hut by the track serves as 'depôt' for the rare arrivals of passengers or freight. Here my friend X., the owner of the cottage, met me one steaming day in the autumn of last year; and as we strolled through the woods on our way to his bachelor quarters, I had reason to congratulate myself on the change from the hot dusty city, and on the invitation he had already given me to repeat my visit a month later, when the 'close-time for quail was over, and the little brown bunches which took flight almost from under our feet should be fair game for the

gun.

'At present,' said X., 'I have nothing to offer you in the way of sport better than an evening among the pike; but the water is in good condition, and I think you will agree with me that they are not to be despised.'

We had just reached the edge of the lake as he spoke; and looking out over the picturesque little sheet of water, I felt that he must be difficult to please who could not be content to spend an afternoon among its ripples, with pipe and chat to while away the hours, and rod in hand to give a show of occupation to his idle

ness.

'I have ordered dinner at one, so as to secure a long afternoon. That gives us a spare hour now; so we will have a cigar, and then I'll show you one of my hobbies,' said X. presently.

We then sauntered to a part of the shore where, in a little recess, stood the boathouse,

with a pretty snuggery above it, used in summer as a smoking and writing room. By the side of the boathouse, a small landing-stage reached some thirty feet into the water; and from its further end a platform of wood, supported on planks driven endwise into the sandy bottom, ran at right angles to the stage, meeting a projecting point of the bank, and so cutting off a tiny bay, and making an inclosed basin about forty feet by thirty in extent. The planks which supported both landing-stage and platform were placed sufficiently close to one another to while allowing the water to circulate freely. prevent the passage of a fish between them,

"There,' said my friend, 'you see one of my pet "divarsions." Like Chaucer's Frankeleyn, I like my fish both fresh and plump, and for that purpose keep "many a pike and many a luce in stewe.""

I looked down into the water of the basin, and perceived his meaning. Closely huddled together beneath the shade of the platform were closer inspection revealed themselves as pike and two dark wriggling crowds of fish, which on catfish respectively; the former lean and hungrylooking as compared with their plump roundheaded companions, but withal of comely proportions, and giving promise of development should time and circumstances permit.

'Your pike run small,' I said. 'Are those of average size for this lake?'

'About the average,' X. replied, when left to themselves. Those you are looking at are a recent catch, and have not yet had time to fatten. But look yonder;' and he pointed to the roots of a cypress which had been left standing in the middle of the basin.

I followed the direction of his finger; and there, patient, silent, and grim as fate, lay three veritable monsters, whose evil eyes and savage protruding jaws sufficiently explained the huddling together and the respectful distance of the smaller fry. Here and there, paddling awkwardly about in search of food, or lifting their comical little heads above the surface for a breath of air, were half-a-dozen fresh-water terrapin, a kind of small turtle, destined, like their finny comrades, to grace my friend's table after a due season of confinement and good living.

'It is about fish-feeding time,' said X. 'If you care to see the process, take a seat on that log, while I get their dinner. I always see to it myself,' he added; and I believe my protégés get to know me after a time.' So saying, he turned to the house, and presently reappeared with a large piece of fresh meat, a knife, and a long bamboo fishing-pole, from the end of which dangled eight or ten feet of fine twine. Cutting the meat into narrow strips four or five inches long, he proceeded to attach one of them by a running noose to the end of the string. The fish seemed to be watching this process from their shady retreat, and one or two of the bolder spirits had left their corners and gradually approached the side of the basin at which my friend stood. He advanced a step nearer, and holding out the pole at arm's-length, waved the tempting morsel two or three times across the inclosure, a few inches above the water. This had the effect of bringing more of the pike from their retreat; and it was interesting to notice

country for nearly eleven years, having been despatched thither from the Crimea at the termination of the war. We had looked forward to having a pleasant time of it in the quiet town in the south of England in which we had been quartered since our return from the East; therefore, the order to proceed to Ireland was specially unwelcome. Perhaps there is nothing more distasteful to the men of the British army than to be stationed in the sister isle during any troublous period. The hardships arising from heavy marches and exposure to the elements are in some cases almost as bad as those of a campaign. The work, too, has its perils, without, of course, any of the inspiriting feelings that are engendered while engaged in real warfare, not to speak of the subsequent glory attached to

success.

Although personally I should have preferred to remain in England, I soon made up my mind to face the inevitable; besides, I thought a little excitement infinitely better than the insufferable routine of a garrison town. Rough work was nothing new to me, as I had served with the regiment in the Crimea and during the suppression of the Indian Mutiny, and subsequently in one of the frontier expeditions.

After the usual bustle and topsy-turvy confusion, we were ready to march at the time appointed. Embarking in a troop-ship, we set sail, and after a smart run, landed at Cork, in which city we were located for about a month. Shortly after our arrival, a batch of recruits joined the regiment from the depôt at St George's Barracks, London. Most of them were of the ordinary ragamuffin type, for the embryo Tommy Atkins, whether of urban or rural extraction, commonly presents, when he joins, a rather dilapidated spectacle. They comprised stolid yokels from the agricultural districts attired in smock-frocks; ragged sharp-featured Londoners, quick-witted, and possessed of a copious vocabulary of strange oaths; low-looking roughs from the provincial towns; a few clerks out at elbows; and one or two respectably dressed young men, who had probably enlisted in a spirit of adventure. One member of this recent addition to the strength of the regiment, by name Coghlan, was distinctly, in point of appearance and manner, a long way above the average type of recruits. Tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular, he had pleasing features and a most polite manner. He was a native of Ireland, as was shown by his slight brogue. He was posted to my company; and I was detailed by the colour-sergeant to show him how to clean his traps, make his bed, and perform other duties connected with the barrack-room.

I speedily found that my duty was a sinecure, as Coghlan did not require much tuition; on the contrary, he took to his work as if to the manner born,' and displayed such an aptitude in learning his drill, as to point to the suspicion that he had worn the cloth before, that, in fact, he had deserted from another regiment. He was a very civil and obliging young fellow, always ready unsolicited to assist any comrade; but there was one thing about him which puzzled us all-he never alluded in the slightest degree to his antecedents, unlike the ordinary Tommy Atkins, who, when the recollections of the

ragged toggery in which he joins the army have somewhat subsided, turns out, by his own showing, to have been in civil life a rather important member of the community.

Coghlan was frequently 'chaffed' by his comrades, who, suspecting that he was a deserter, made frequent inquiries about his last regimental number;' but he merely smiled in reply to any such observations.

One morning we suddenly received orders to march inland; and Coghlan had made himself so far proficient in drill that he was put in the ranks to perform the duties of a trained soldier. My company, together with other two, was sent to garrison a small town of about a thousand inhabitants. The barracks were situated on the outskirts; they were of very small size, just containing the requisite accommodation for the three companies. For a time after our arrival we observed extreme vigilance, night-sentries being posted outside all round the walls. The prevailing agitation, however, seemed to affect every district except that in which we were stationed; the townspeople were civil, though not over-cordial; and after a while our extreme precautionary measures were relaxed, and the guard reduced to nine men, under command of a sergeant.

Although, as I have said, the inhabitants of the town were anything but sociably inclined, they were not aggressive in manner to the military, and time passed without any mishap occurring that was conducive to strained relations between the garrison and the civilians. Acting on a hint from the police, however, the major in command placed several of the publichouses usually frequented by the lower orders of the population out of bounds'-that is, it was considered a breach of military discipline to enter them; and any soldier who infringed this regulation ran the risk of being severely punished for disobedience of orders. One of these houses was the Irish Harp, of which I shall have occasion to speak presently.

The senior colour-sergeant was appointed acting sergeant-major of the detachment; while our colour-sergeant, a smart, well-educated Irishman, by the name of O'Neill, was deputed to act as quarter-master-sergeant. O'Neill had charge of my room, and occupied a bunk at the end next the door. Besides Coghlan and myself, there was quartered in the room a young Irishman named Curran, who was reported to be very well connected. Before we had been many days in barracks, it was noticeable that the coloursergeant and he appeared to be more intimate than their respective positions warranted, as they held long conferences in a low tone of voice two or three times a day. Curran received numerous letters, bearing the post-marks of different towns in England and Ireland, which he always took the first opportunity of submitting for O'Neill's inspection, after having perused them himself. Occasionally, after the receipt of one of those missives the pair seemed considerably elated at other times seriously concerned.

One thing struck me forcibly: I felt by a species of instinct that their every movement was being closely watched by Coghlan. Quiet and unassuming in manner as he habitually was, there was a mystery about the man that I