peating eighty pounds in nine weeks! eighty pounds in nine weeks! eighty pounds in nine weeks!" said Maria, wittily putting her hands behind her back, and walking up and down the room with a step and attitude, which certainly resembled those of her papa, more than might have been expected from so light-footed and slender a young lady. Mrs. Roberts smiled, and Agatha laughed aloud.

"It is very clever, Miss Maria," said her mother, endeavouring to recover her gravity, "but it won't go far, I'm afraid, towards paying Mademoiselle Amabel's bill; and as to doing it without making your father give me an extra check, it is impossible. Fancy me squeezing out eighty pounds out of our eating and drinking, my own little pocket expenses, and coach-hire! I have no other funds to go to, I promise you; and, into the bargain, it is to be done at three days' warning. I must ask him for the money-there is no other way of getting out of it."

"Don't mamma!" persisted the usually volatile, but now firm-minded Maria. "Pray don't; if you do, you will repent it as long as you live, for you will never hear the last of it. You know, mamma, as well as I do, that papa is not over quick in finding any thing to say when he takes it into his head to show fight about any thing, and if you tell him of this bill, you will be putting an ever-loaded pistol into his hand, that he will go on popping in our faces to the end of time; and you will get your share of it in one way, mamma, if you don't in another, you may take my word for that; for we shall both of us be worn into peaking, pining, yellow-faced old maids in no time—at least, I can venture to answer for myself."

"I have not a word to say against the correctness of your statement, Maria," replied her mother, "except the just assuring you that it is as inevitable as it is true. If you know how to think as well as to talk, just set your wits to work, my dear, to invent a way of getting out of it."

"As to that, mamma," said Agatha, setting down the alarming bill, which she had been perusing with a heightened complexion, "as to that, you know there are, for there must be ways enough to manage such a matter as this, without going at the very first pinch and telling papa of it. What do you suppose all the exquisitely dressed women in Paris do when a bill happens to run up a little higher than they expected? Can you possibly believe that they all trot off to show it to their husbands? Or that things would go on as smoothly as they seem to do now, if they did? Do you really suppose the women of Paris are such idiots ?" "Then what do you suppose they do do, Agatha ?" returned Mrs. Roberts, who had listened to this remonstrance with considerable attention.

Oh, as to that, mamma, there may be a variety of ways and means with which, of course, I am not likely to become acquainted; and as to any of them, you know, one can but guess.'

“Well, child, and what do you guess ?" said her mother, rather impatiently; for Mrs. Roberts not being at all in the habit of requiring the opinions of either husband or children as to what was best to be done in any emergency, was rather restive under the process of receiving

advice.

"Why, this is what I guess, mamma; when a lady finds herself, à pro

pos of her milliner, exactly in the position that you are now, à propos of Mademoiselle Amabel, I guess, as the Yankees say, that it is to her she would apply, and not to her own husband, to ascertain what would be the easiest way of settling the affair."

"What can you mean, Agatha, by talking such abominable nonsense to me?" returned Mrs. Roberts, in a tone of great displeasure.

"You

may think as lightly of running in debt as you please, but I can tell you that this is no time for joking, and if don't believe you me, you may ask your papa for his opinion."

"Yes, yes, I do believe you, mamma; but it seems to me that you must be joking, if you mean to say that I have proposed your asking Mademoiselle Amabel to pay her own bill. But she may make the paying of it comparatively easy, without lending you the money, according to the old Sheridan plan. If I had to pay the bill, I should go to the woman this morning, and take with me as much ready money from my housekeeping purse as I could conveniently spare; this I should give her, taking good care to have her receipt for it, and I should tell her, with the most perfect frankness, that her bill having come in considerably before I expected it, I could not possibly pay it directly without taking it formally in to my husband, which was what I never did with my milliner's bills if I could possibly help it. I should then add, with a gay sort of laugh, that, nevertheless, if she insisted upon having the money directly, it should be done; but that if so, I should be obliged, though I liked her style extremely, to employ another milliner, as I did not choose to be subjected to this startling style of doing business."

Mrs. Roberts listened to all this very gravely, but with an expression of countenance not quite easy to interpret. There was a mixture of admiration and surprise in it, but in addition to this, there was an air of being half frightened. But as she remained silent, expecting, perhaps, that her young counseller would proceed, Maria ventured to say that what Agatha proposed appeared to her extremely reasonable, and very likely to succeed.

66

Upon my word, mamma, I think, that at any rate you ought to make the experiment. Just think how we were hurt and vexed last night by that horrid woman's impertinence. I quite give her up now, for it is past three o'clock, and we have neither card, note, nor any thing else to explain it. So think, dear mamma, of our vexation last night, and do not add to it by bringing down papa upon us, about these unfortunate dresses, which after all, you know, it would have been absolutely impossible for us to do without, if he were to take it into his head to kill us for it. Just fancy, if you please, the pretty appearance that Agatha and I should have made had we been left to our pitiful thirty pounds per annum, at Lady Moreton's and Lady Forton's-at the embassy-at that horrid Madame de Soissonac's—and in short, at all the places that have given us the least pleasure. I am sure if it had not been for Mademoiselle Amabel, we might, and we must, have contented ourselves with going to church on a Sunday, going to a play about once a week, and indulging in an occasional excursion to Versailles in a railroad omnibus. So you have just got to make up your mind, mamma, as to which you think best-the being obliged to set your wits to work for a little clever management with mademoiselle, or to see

us, and yourself too, turned from being people of fashion and consequence, as we are now, into vulgar humdrums, that no soul worth knowing would choose to speak to, or even look at."

The evident savoir faire of both her daughters, certainly surprised Mrs. Roberts a good deal; but she felt that it might be, and at the present moment actually was very useful.

"Where in the world did they get such clever thoughtful notions?" was the idea which first suggested itself to her mind; for in London, in her very gayest days, Mrs. Roberts had never been called upon to exercise her superior faculties in this sort of way-but the mental answer to the mental question was obvious-France had done it-Paris had done it. She herself felt a perfectly different creature in Paris, and no wonder the girls did so too. But although Mrs. Roberts very pleasantly felt the use of such ready and intelligent advisers, she had been too long accustomed to be herself the main spring of the domestic machine, to relish the idea of her children's taking it into their heads that she could not get on without their help. She, therefore, only nodded to them both, with an air of light-hearted, gay good-humour, and said,

"Well done, girls, you have not been three months in Paris for nothing. Great wits generally jump together, you know, and your scheme is not very much unlike what I have been thinking of myself all the time that you have been chattering. At any rate, when the carriage comes, which it will do directly, I suppose, I shall drive to Mademoiselle Amabel's and see what I can do with her. But before I go to put on my bonnet, girls, I shall choose to say one word to you both. You must remember, my dear children, that our happening to have fallen into particularly gay and elegant society since we have been in Paris, which I have contrived to bring about solely for your sakes, and that of your exemplary brother, you must take great care to remember that although this may have justified, and more than justified, my having permitted this little excess in the article of dress, yet, that as a general principle, I most strongly recommend economy, and the most careful avoidance of every thing like running into debt. If I did not conceive it impossible that with such a mother as myself you should ever forget this, I should be perfectly miserable, I should indeed. But I trust there is no danger of it."

As this was spoken with much solemnity, and that air of authoritative dignity which Mrs. Roberts so well knew how to assume, the two young ladies listened to her in submissive silence, and with features arranged into an expression of the most profound gravity and even deference.

The carriage did come to the door immediately, as Mrs. Roberts expected it would, but although this usually punctual lady was naturally inclined to hasten away, both because she made it a rule never to keep the coachman waiting, and because she was really very anxious to finish the business she was upon, Miss Maria detained her long enough to say, "But remember, mamma, the best way in the world to bring Mademoiselle Amabel to terms is to order something new; and if you do, dearest mamma, don't forget how very badly I want a new scarf. I have not one that is fit to be seen."

Mrs. Roberts only nodded in reply and departed; but she returned very soon, apparently in excellent spirits, and generously made a present

to each of her daughters of a very splendid new scarf. No more was said at that time on the subject of mademoiselle's bill, the young ladies very wisely deciding in their own minds that if their mamma wanted any more talk about it she would take care to let them know it, and that if she did not, it would be a great pity to set her going again upon so very disagreeable a theme.

"How much would you bet, Maria," said Agatha, "that mamma never had an idea of going to mademoiselle till I put it into her head ?"

"If I bet upon the subject at all," replied her sister, laughing, "it certainly would not be that she had not. In the first place, I am sure of it, from her manner-oh, I know mamma so well; and in the next, I am sure of it, because with all her cleverness, and I do not mean to deny that she certainly is clever in her own way, she has so very little notion of what women of real fashion do, either in this country or our own. She has never, you know, been at a modern boarding-school as we have, and therefore she has never had the advantage of hearing all the anecdotes that our admirable teacher used to recount for our advantage -not to mention all we have read, you know, in more languages than one. All this makes a great difference, and those are the sort of reasons, you may depend upon it, why old people never do know how to do any thing so well as young ones. And the fact is, Agatha, that if we hope to get on, as I know we should both of us like to do, we must con→ trive, somehow or other, to have our own way in most things, or we shall be disappointed, you may depend upon it."

THE TABLE D'HOTE.

THE summer of 183- I passed at Interlacken. The following tragical tale, in which I unfortunately took a part, will recall to many the precise year of the catastrophe, and the real names of the Dramatis Per

sona.

To those very few English who have not sojourned at Interlacken, it may not be amiss to remark, that of all delicious summer retreats, this scattered Anglo-Swiss hamlet is deservedly the most popular. Without trenching on Madame Stark's monopoly of information, I may be allowed to notice its comfortable Pensions, its cheap fare, and, beyond all, its exquisite scenery. From From my window at the Pension Seiler (Père) I gazed, at first awe-struck, on the perpetual snows of the Jungfrau, apparently within a stone's cast. Immediately before me the lovely valley of the Grindelwald retired coyly from the Plain of the Lakes, while all around, Alp upon Alp, in fantastic confusion of shape and outline, forbid the eye to be satisfied or the fancy to be checked. The actual boundary of the valley was formed of hills rather than of mountains, alternately frowning with dark pine woods, or smiling with gaudy wild flowers: of these, the edge was distinct and appreciable: but far behind and above them, receding

into a distance, almost beyond itself, the hoary Alps formed the outer framework of the picture. Emblem of life, hackneyed but true! Near us is reality, common-place, and visible. Away, in the distance of Imagination, shapes beautiful, but indistinct, melting and crumbling under the touch of Time!

To confess the truth, these were not the sort of reflections I made from the middle window of the second story of the Pension Seiler in the year 183-. Every morning, as I threw back the blinds, a hasty conception of the profligate caprice of nature in this her most glorious mood seized me, and I inwardly compared the amphitheatre before me with the foggy enciente of the Regent's Park, bounded by the craggy steeps of Primrose Hill. Yet, somehow or other, by the time I was dressed and ready for breakfast, I had stared myself into a kind of impudent familiarity with the real mountains of the scene, and descended to the salon with no more emotion than is visible in a citizen who makes his third trip to Margate. Such is habit-the Robespierre of the sensations!

What with pic-nics to the Faulhorn, and journeys to the Grimsel, and donkeyfyings up the Grindelwald, and balls nightly at Seiler's (Fils) time did not hang heavy at Interlacken. My beloved countrymen-and more especially countrywomen-did their best to introduce sets and distinctions, and after their manner to be as exclusive and miserable as could well be expected in a Swiss valley. I remember that the carriages of the new-comers were kept pro tem. in a barn behind one of the Pensions until, by right of seniority, they succeeded to a vacant coach-house. On a fine day these vehicles were brought out—as it were-to sun themselves. On these occasions it was the custom to lounge down to the barn and minutely to inspect every carriage from the haughty britscka to the humble calêche. But this was not all. Exactly according to the style of the conveyance, which brought a newly-arrived individual, did he, or she, or they, take rank in the society of the place. Happy bachelors, who arrived any how-on foot or horseback-(I don't think there was a diligence beyond Berne) alone were excepted this thoroughly English douane. But woe to the agreeable strangers who had been noticed overnight, and who turned out in the morning to have come in that thing! It was more than their nearest relations dare do to be aware of their existence for the future.

This is all very well, but I must "to my tale." Why is it that one has a propensity to trifle when the mind is really intent on sad and serious things? May not this paradoxical influence be a key to the character of Hamlet? His overwrought-but not maddened-brain found a vent in rude jests, and even practical pleasantries. No! Hamlet was not mad; though perhaps I am for such a digression.

The dinner-hour at the Pension Seiler was fixed at five o'clock, out of compliment to English habits. It was about that hour one lovely afternoon in August, that as I prepared to take my usual seat at table, I became aware, without lifting my eyes, that a stranger sat opposite to me. When I did look up, I think I never gazed on so lovely a face. It was not a French face exactly-there was too much soul in it—nor a German face decidedly, it was too piquant-nor an Italian face; it was neither oval nor dark-eyed. Above all, it was not an English face; for the owner