"And suggest the value of good homes at night," observed William.

"And add to the picturesqueness of our ride," added Florimel, gaily.

"Hark!" interrupted William, "I hear-yes-yes, there is a clatter of horses' hoofs-"

"Very possibly," calmly replied Florimel. "There is nothing strange in that. Some travellers, like ourselves."

No, no, no-" said he, trembling, "they are behind us-"
Well, and suppose we were behind them, would they have

cause to fear?"

"Hark! they approach-oh! quicken your pace, Miss, praynow do."

"You do not suppose them to be highwaymen ?"

"I do—I do this neighbourhood is infested.

Pray, Miss, let us gallop. Ha! they have turned the sweep of the road-I see them now- -there are two men-in cloaks-'

"Halloo! Halloo-00-00 ! shouted a voice behind.

"There! "exclaimed William, "I said so-they see us-they hail us to stop-they are galloping after us.'

Florimel shared his fears, and spurred her horse into a gallop. The two horsemen behind did the same; and now a desperate chase began. Away, away, flew trees and shrubs, as our heroine and her servant scampered along with all the speed that fear could urge their horses to. The pursuers continued their halloos, and goaded on their horses with rage and recklessness. The four horses were quickly bathed in foam, and snorted fear and energy from their fiery nostrils. The clanking of a sword against the stirrup of one of the pursuers filled Florimel with alarm, while the obstinacy of the pursuit convinced her that her worst fears were true.

"They gain upon us!' exclaimed William. "I hear it plainly the clanking of their sword is a sure test. My beast pants and snorts. Ha! brute! he stumbled. Had he fallen we —should have been lost. Keep your reins slack, Miss-give him his head-but be ready in case the beast stumbles. In vain! in vain--they are gaining ground. Steady! steady! old fellownow then-hark away!-hie! Ah! my horse is done up-see how he pants? he 'll never-. Oh, Miss, fly-fly-don't wait for me-I can't keep up-save yourself-your beast is good yetyou'll reach a turnpike soon-take heart-fly! Fly before it is too late-"

Florimel saw that his counsel was just, and that his horse could not longer sustain the pursuit; so bidding him take courage and assuring him that she would return to his rescue as soon as she met with a human being, she urged her horse onwards at a spanking rate.

She had not headed William fifty yards before his beast fell, and lay panting on the ground. William was fortunately unhurt. Florimel saw him on his legs-and then saw their pursuers come up with him. After a rapid interchange of words, one of the horsemen set off on her traces at a still greater speed than before. She comprehended the meaning of this but too well; and now it became a chase of life and death.

Bravely did her steed bear her along that hard and even road, but swiftly in her rear came spanking along the steed of her pursuer, his sword clanking against his stirrup almost every instant, with a clear sharp ring. The horsemen called out to her and seemed to wish to speak; but fear made her almost deaf. could only distinguish certain sounds, and among those she fancied she heard "Stop!-on your life!"

She

Away, away, she fled, and after her the desperate horseman. On, on, she continued, encouraging with words and pattings the beast that panted under her: her eyes dim with the rapidity of the objects that passed across them-her cars filled with that horrible clanking and that wild halloo-her brain dizzy with fear. Yet she kept up her presence of mind. All her thoughts and energies were concentrated in one object: that was her horse. She cheered him, patted him, flogged him. And yet her pursuer gained ground-he was hard upon her-she could hear the snort of his horse behind her-she could hear a diabolical laugh

-the clatter of hoofs grew horribly distinct, the clanking of the sword cut upon her sense-the laugh of her pursuer told her that he was close at hand-she cast round a furtive glance-he was within a few yards!

"It's no use," said he, laughing; "you're caught."

Her brain grew dizzy-a film spread over her eyes-she closed them with a soft low sigh, and the reins fell from her hands. The hand of her pursuer was on the bridle at once-her horse was stopped-an arm was thrown around her, and the words "Miss Ruffhead" were murmured in her ear.

She opened her eyes-it was Sir Patrick O'Reilly that supported her in the saddle! She closed her eyes again, overwhelmed

with the strange feelings which crowded on her, and sick with the fear she had been subject to.

XI. DENOUEMENT.

"And how came you to be in search of me?" said Florimel, as she trotted slowly by the side of Sir Patrick, awaiting the coming up of Brag and William.

once.

Faith, Miss Ruffhead, it's a long story; but the short of it is just this: - Beatrice ordered me to seek you out, and to personally explain to Mr. Wyntoun the little matter that disturbs his mind. I heard from a servant that William had taken this road in search of Mr. Wyntoun; so I ordered Brag to saddle at We espied a man and a young lady on horseback; and thinking they could be none other than yourselves, we hailed you: you answered this by setting off at a hand-gallop; we did the same. The rest you know. Now, with your permission, we will escort you to Southampton; or rather, if you will take my advice, do you alight at Winchester. We will proceed to Southampton, and bring the young gentleman repentant to your feet."

This was soon done. Everything was explained. Charles was repentant, and was readily forgiven. The lovers were married secretly; and then informed Sir John of the fact. Sir John stormed and swore; vowed he would never see his child again: but feeling very lonely down at Gloucester, and thinking that forgiveness might much better answer his purpose, he recalled his oaths and his child, forgave her, and promised to leave her all his money.

But Sir John never forgave Hyacinth Dribble; and always showered sarcasms on that gentleman's finesse. Dribble smiled on him in ineffable contempt, and persisted that the only way ever to deal with women was by subtle cunning: he had tried it, and had never been deceived before.

Shortly after, Beatrice eloped with Sir Patrick, and returned to kiss her uncle, as Lady O'Reilly: but he refused her offer; he refused to see her; and, to his dying day, never thought without disgust of the woman who had outwitted him-whom he had intended for a Marquis, and had in spite of him married a poor Irish Baronet.

Charles and Florimel lived as happily as people do in moral tales; had a fine family of bouncing boys and merry girls; and never once had their felicity disturbed by any jealousy.

XII.-MORAL.

66

Trust not your eyes in love. However strong "" appearances may be against your mistress, never reason from them alone; for they at least are to be counterbalanced by appearances of affection you have received: if the latter are open to suspicion, as being easily "put on," no less are the former open as being easily misinterpreted. Above all, O jealous lover! think of this when you suspect. If your suspicions could possibly be true-if they are consistent with the nature of your Donna-do not torment yourself with jealousy, but quit her: for either she is unworthy of you, or you are unworthy of her!

MEN OF THOUGHT AND MEN OF ACTION.

THE popular mind is fond of broad distinctions. It masses most of its impressions in large formulas, without regard to the subtler shades of difference. Its generalizations are always broad, and consequently often loose; but admirably adapted to ordinary convenience. Unhappily, conclusions are sometimes drawn from these generalizations as if they were absolute and precise. Thus the world has consented to divide mankind into Men of Thought and Men of Action; and, for all ordinary purposes, the division may be accepted. We know it means only to demarcate those in whom thought has the predominance, from those in whom thought is subjected to the mere animal and instinctive tendencies. But this distinction, of which we all see the propriety, passing into a formula, is received as an absolute truth; and from it is deduced the current opinion, that Men of Thought are unfit for Action, and should not be trusted with the reins of government.

It is worth while to examine this opinion a little. We know that men are not so divided into two distinct classes; but, that every man has at once capacity for thought and for action; -is both a Thinker and a Doer. The stupidest breaker of stones upon the king's highway has an immortal soul. He is not a mere stone-breaking machine; but has a thinking

faculty within him. The very idiot has his imbecile theory of life upon which he works. Our question becomes, therefore, when looked at as a matter of philosophical speculation, only a question of degree; as we find that in some men the thinking faculty is more active than in others. Of course you may take the two extremes of the scale: the meditative recluse on the one hand, and the stone-breaker on the other; but even on that supposition, the Man of Thought will be found, with all his imperfections, infinitely preferable to the Man of Action. That is to say, the thinking, dreaming, sickly, unpractical recluse would really be better fitted to govern men, than the hard-handed, broad-shouldered, uninstructed, little-thinking, practical stone-breaker. It is by stating the extremes of a case, that we are often more clearly enabled to perceive the real drift of an argument; and in the case we have just put there can be no doubt that the current notion of the incapacity of Men of Thought is reduced ad absurdum.

But let us go more into the heart of the question. Men accustomed to habits of study and of speculation-accustomed to pass laborious nights in elaborating theories of an abstract nature-are generally so absorbed in their own thoughts, that, when they come into society, they seem "in it but not of it ;" they are what is called "absent.' They cannot attend to the small details of life; they mismanage their household affairs; they become the laughing-stocks of fools; their thoughts are fixed on the stars; their knees are broken against the posts. And it is because students have generally been men of these unpractical, unbusinesslike habits, that those conclusions have been drawn against theory which we so constantly hear in people's mouths—“O, that is all theory!" they exclaim; or, "He is a mere theorist! "That is very well in theory,"-phrases all used with a certain sarcasm, as if theory were the given name for caprice or idle dreaming. Yet it is very necessary that all men should understand that theory is nothing of the kind. It is a Torch which lights us onward in our path; and the brighter that Torch, the more securely shall we walk. Put it out, and we are in darkness and confusion. True it is that theories are often false, wild, and chimerical; but the use of a thing must not be tested by its abuse; and because there are false theories we must not be irreverent towards theory.

or,

The man who declaims so sarcastically against theories, is himself the very slave of theories. The whole processes of his