Harry went up and put his hand on his plete-when he sees that there is not the ghost friend's shoulder. "Burford, who is the heir?" 'Oh," said George, shaking off the hand; "That's it, is it—a fit of your old impetuosity? Well, hadn't we better be sure before we let you at him, particularly in your present mood. He is Miss Rutherford's cousin, you know." Harry bit his lip. George, will you do something for me?" 'I should have thought that I had already done something for you!" "I know, I know, George. I want you to go up to Rutherford now, and get shown over the house." "Eh! have you been?" "Yes. I will not even tell you why I wish you to go, for fear of prejudicing your opinions. Now don't laugh at me, George! Will you go?" "No, I thank you," replied George, coolly. A walk of three or four miles is no such desirable thing after a hard day's labour." "Burford!" "My dear fellow," said George, changing his tone, "I have seen your father's portrait before." Harry put his face down on the table with a sudden revulsion of feeling. "Why didn't you tell me before?" "Because I wished to keep you clear of the uncertainty. You know, lookers-on see most of the game. Your French adventure first excited me to think that such a thing might be. The only wonder is that you have been blind so long. Rutherford the elder died, it is believed, at a place somewhere in Cumberland. The first thing you tell me you can recollect distinctly was shirking your lessons at a school in Cumberland; that you were happy enough there until one day your master told you he supposed your father must be dead, since he had ceased to write, or send any remittances. Well, you know all that: then I found out that Rutherford's name was Harry Sutton Rutherford, and that added, in my mind, to the evidence. This Rutherford died suddenly, under the name of Sutton, we think-but that we must find out at a date which tallies with what you say was about your age, allowing for your master having waited, perhaps, half-a-year. The case is in the hands of Messrs. Park and Spencer," concluded George, "and we are going up to London to see them-you and I, Harry." "I cannot. George, think of Marie !" "That is exactly the individual I do think of. You are not suspecting me of any interest in yourself, I hope, Harry?" he said, earnestly. "I want to be quick, and cautious. I want to prevent Sir Miles hearing anything till the last; because, though he could not ultimately injure your cause, he may give us very much more trouble than we are likely to have at present. He may prolong the case, and give Marie also considerable uneasiness; whereas, when the facts are laid before him, arranged and com of a loophole to scramble through, he will be more likely to give up quietly than to incur the expense of litigation, which cannot serve him." "But Marie-" "Says that poverty may be hard, but freedom is well worth the price. That does not speak of much affection for Sir Miles?" "Poverty!" ejaculated Harry. "Ah, you will save her from that!" "But". "No buts. Give me credit for abstaining from a quotation. She sent you a message, and I think it's a shame you should have such luck-I think you were not the only sufferer two years since at the old château. I have got two pretty little documents, Harry-the marriage of Harry Sutton Rutherford with Frances, daughter of the Rev. Robert Wilmore, and the birth of Harry Sutton Rutherford, their son. Think what hunting there has been to find them! And now up with you: we must be in London to-night. AN EVENING HOUR. BY ELIZABETH TOWNBRIDGE. There is an hour, a lonely hour, And ties, alas ! disowned and broken, Seem bound in early truth again When each light laugh of careless childhood, On eve's sweet breeze seem wafted oy; That girlhood's smiling fancy drew. Again she sees those bright tints fading, "Each gay to-morrow of the mind." Until, as evening shadows deepen, More deeply glooms her memory's page, Until no earth-hope stays to sweeten Her blighted youth, her cheerless age. She asks, while tears are downward stealing, Not yet, for after hours thus given To dreams and hopes of earlier years, THE SEASON IN ALDERNEY. "Come tell me true, what may a gentleman find for to do,' this Long?" said my worthy friend, Cloanthus, to me one day at the close of the glorious summer-term at Oxford, as we lolled at our ease in my rooms at Brasenose, with the balmy cider-cup sparkling and winking in the goblet before us, and our lips not entirely innocent of the weed that solaceth the frame of man. All work for the term was over, and the facetious ordeal of "collections" once passed, each man was at liberty to wend his way to the four quarters of the globe. And so it fell that Cloanthus and I (not that his name was Cloanthus by any means, but so had I nicknamed him from his deeds of " dering do" on the river, and his mighty feats on the fifth of November "fortis Cloanthus);" he was both strong i' the arm, and stout of heart, and we had been the fastest friends from the day that we had been received, trembling victims, into the kind protection of Alma Mater, through four years of shine and storm, flower and thorn, through all the strange vicissitudes of a University career, till the day when we both heard the Dean, in his unctuous voice, present us for our degree, and flaunted up and down that most beautiful of all streets, the "High," in all the budding bravery of our graceful bachelors' gowns. And as we sat and smoked at my window, old Clo' and I came to the determination of spending the Long together, and read for our professions, 'neath some foreign clime. The question was, what was it to be? "What do you say to Paris, and what the papers funnily call the Expositiong?" enquired I. My companion's eyes lightened up, by the which token I knew he was going to make a joke, and then said, "Parigi o cara! indeed that don't suit my book. Paris would be very dear, much too dear for me and my slender wallet. I should certainly be inclined to sing with the person in La Traviata,' that Paris was uncommon dear, so please dismiss the thought. I've been thinking of the Tyrol. A few more days saw us both on the Oxford Some fellows have been telling me that the platform, amid a struggling mass of men and people there almost pay you for staying at dogs and porters and luggage; for I suppose their inns, and up in the mountains a few francs no earthly being carries as much luggage as, or get you a charming supper, bed, and breakfast, makes more fuss about it thatt, your Oxford man. not to mention what the novelists call a To Southampton we beguiled the hours pleas stoup of right Burgundy.' And then the sce-antly by a hand at whist with some other felnery and the chamois, and that sort of thing, you know." sky; and, lovelier than all, the beauteous spire of St. Mary's bathed in the roseate sunset, a shapely tapering mass of gargoyle and buttress towering into the air till almost lost in infinity; and of many other lesser spires, grey in the distance, as the waning light left them, and in unison with the scene the tender regretful sound of the Soldaten Lieder valse, played by a man at the opposite window. All which is very fine, though it has nothing to do with the heading of this veracious article. All of a sudden a light flashed across the intellectual face of the present historian, and extracting a letter from his pocket, he exclaimed, "Happy thought! why shouldn't we two fellows go to Alderney during this Long? Do you remember Barkins, who was here? Well, he is at Alderney now, assistant curate, and writes me no end of glowing accounts of the doings there; says it is a glorious little island, healthy air, pleasing society (here the features of Cloanthus assumed the air contemptuous), plenty of sport, deep seafishing, and the like. So I vote we find our way. thither, and see if we can manage to spend the 'Long' there, and pitch all thoughts of Paris, or Baden, or the Tyrol to the Deuce." "Talking of scenery," I interposed, "where would you wish to see a finer scene than the one which now lies before your eyes?" And, certes, a lovelier scene than old Oxford presented that evening, a poet could not describe nor artist paint; glimpses of grey old colleges, the walls of which the ivy encircled in loving twines, like youth fostering old age of the school's ill-fated portal, standing out in grim relief against the deep blue "Spend the long there?" cried my friend; "why don't you know that the place is a mere barren rock, popularly supposed to afford starvation to a few Aborigines what time they are not under water." "I don't think that your geographical education has been very deep, have you never heard of Alderney-" "Cows," was his laconic remark. "I knew you were going to say cows-very much overrated, I believe those cows are; but if you wish it we will go and see what we shall see; at any rate, one can read there, and live cheaply." And so we settled it over our evening cup and a broiled bone, and with the harmless pewter ratified the bargain; to Alderney we should go at once. lows; and, on arriving there, found we had to These Ill as there was that in his eye which tempted a | each passenger wishing to be the first to land, young Palinurus to say, "Should like to drink and the captain almost tearing his hair. your health, sir, werry much." Strange it is we felt, it was impossible to watch the scene that good wishes with regard to our wel- without fits of laughter; and to see the gesfare should always take the shape of malt-liquor. tures of sundry maniacs with badges on the A thirsty eye this young man had, and took his quay, who turned out to be porters. beer very kindly, telling us many adventures, flatter myself that the Guernsey porter is unique. Now I mirabile dictu, meanwhileThe first thing he does, when he marks his victim, is to point to him with a weird forefinger, and then he makes a species of mesmeric passes with his other hand, bawling out his number the while, at the top of his voice. Woe to the man who falls into his hands. I have been flattered by obsequious porters at Oxford, I have been bullied by them on the Great Western, I have been all but torn in fragments by Irish carmen and porters as they carried me into their "Kyar." bodily from the opposing faction at Welsh waterI have been rescued ing places; but never was so near utter destruction as at Guernsey. No sooner had we lauded than they rushed upon us, uttering their hideous war-cries of "Clarence, sir”"Fine hotel, gentlemen; Gardiner's"-" Don't believe him, M'sieu' nothin' like Jones's Commercial." "Shall you be ill, my Cloanthus?" was my earnest inquiry, in order to sound my friend; for I must confess that the feeling which the Greeks called xλwpov dròs, and the moderns "funk," was "still so gently o'er me stealing," and I am convinced that my face was already of a greenish tinge. Cloanthus replied with a forced laugh, and said he never felt better in his life. And very well we did feel, while still in the Solent, threading the "watery paths," while the phosphorescent light glittered in our wake, and the Southampton lights yet shone bravely -so well that we walked the quarter-deck like tall admirals, and hummed defiantly, "A Life on the Ocean wave;" and Cloanthus had managed to get into pleasing converse with a young and lovely lady from Jersey-one of those whom the irreverent men call "hookers," because they entrap the unwary youth in the meshes of their yellow hair, which a butterfly skewered by a couple of golden pins surmounts, in lieu of a bonnet. 66 villanous old man, and was drawn by two Selecting a vehicle that belonged to a equally villanous horses, we allowed ourselves to be whirled out of the turmoil, and came to anchor at the "Clarence," where we were informed we should have to wait till 12 for the Alderney steamer, hight "Queen of the Isles," which would take us over to the dim looking rock in the distance, which we were assured was Alderney. On and on into the night went our good ship, towards the unknown land, amidst silence unbroken, save by the plash of the waters, and the monotonous cry of the captain. About two in the morning, a dismal feeling seemed to creep over me, and I heard a voice say to Cloanthus, as he staggered past, Sorry It may be remarked here, that the Channel you must go," and Well, I think I will draw a Islands hate and despise one another quite veil over the remainder of this voyage. Suffice as heartily as old it to say that, in the moments when I was not town, maids in a country entirely abandoned to despair, I had a dim conand the expression of the Guernsciousness of a white figure hovering about me, sey waiter's face when we told him that we who answered to the name of " were en route for Alderney, was haughty, but Steward," and pitying. whom I hated above all mortal men. Meantime, we flaneured about the Eight o'clock I awoke to find the brilliant sun-sight it was this bright morning. Guernsey market, and a remarkable pretty shine smiling into the saloon, and a couple of ruf- fashionable promenade are the Arcade and marQuite a fians presenting to me a book to sign, and hinting ket from nine to twelve. Numbers of the handthat one guinea would be very acceptable. This some girls for which Guernsey is famed passed I paid helplessly, quite as readily as I would and repassed in the most witching costumes, have parted with the whole of my worldly chatting, flirting, laughing, and buying flowers. wealth, so utterly "played out" did I feel, as the Yankees say. As for Cloanthus, his misery in the latter article alone, while he pursued the I am afraid to say how much Cloanthus spent was so great, that when the steward came and pretty Galateas. I know that we went on board suggested breakfast, his eye glared, and I verily the "Queen of the Isles," perfectly laden with believe he would have smitten that caitiff to camellias, and heliotropes, and blush-roses, just the earth, had he not been utterly helpless. as if we were about to take part in some Channel On deck, however, we crawled, and with a shout Island "Floralia." gladsome as that of Xenophon's soldiers, or enlivens the scene. A decent German band Columbus' mariners, we greeted the fair shore pretty girls, and flowers, an Epicurean need not And what with music, and of Guernsey, as they basked in the morning sun, wish to idle away an hour more pleasantly than and the grim fortalice of St. Peter towering in the Guernsey market. Sed majora canamus. above the quay, and felt that in a few moments our feet would be on dry soil. As we neared the quay, a sudden madness seemed to seize every mortal on the packet; such a scene of confusionstruggling for luggage, abusing the steward, Once more upon the waters, in company with Norman headresses, as old as the time of the several artillery-men, some women with peculiar white-footed Arlette, and a commercial" gent, who volunteered the information that "Alderney haw-was unfit for human beings-haw-to live in." Past Sark, which is the gem of the creditably. As it is not my purpose to depict channel Cyclades, past Herm the shelly, and the features of the island much, I cannot be Jethou the desolate, feeling rather ill, in cross-expected to talk of everything we saw. As the ing a stormy bit called the "Russel," and desperately indisposed when we were opposite the Casket lighthouses, on which story tells that the bad son of a worse king struck midst wine and wassail, and mingled his death-shriek with the wail of the curlew. Out again into the open, with the coast of Alderney growing more distinct each moment, and, truth to tell, looking rather rocky and bare than otherwise. This was the back of the island, with some magnificent rocks jutting into the sea; one that reminded us strikingly of Una and the Lion, and another very like an old witch peering into the sea. Then came forts, looking mighty and majestic, as we steamed alongside, through a passage called the "Swinge," which, Cloanthus remarked, was very like a swing at a fair, as far as concerned the steamer. Our skipper, though, corrected him with majesty, and covered him with shame, as with a garment," by remarking casually that, in French, "singe" was an ape, and that this was the "Passage of the apes." Then came the breakwater, Alderney's shame and pride, with a couple of soldiers fishing at the extreme end; and then we steamed up the noble harbour, and amid a shout of Voila! from Cloanthus, we were alongside the stone-slip. "Look at the crowd of beauty and fashion," said my friend, with enthusiasm; "how beautiful, exceedingly, these ladies of a far countree!" In another minute we were shaking hands with the Rev. Barkins, who was very brown, and very rough as to his appearance, but very genial as to his welcome. "No porters here, thank goodness!" was my grateful cry; but it was a rash word, for 'twas no sooner said than a "lone widdy woman," in sad coloured garments, pounced upon our things, and began coolly to place them in her cart, and regarded our remonstrances about as much as she did the plashing of the "sad sea wave." "It's all right," remarked the Parson; "she is the recognized medium." Cloanthus, having like Lancelot Gobbo's father, "a sort of taste," in these matters, was curiously scanning the Island beauties, and confided to me that one in mauve had smiled upon him. “Formose puer nimium ne crede colori," was my remark. Old Barkins had got us very good lodgings, overlooking the blue sea, and very comfortable, save only that the landlady was a little deaf, and the "slavy," more than a little obtuse; to this, however, lodging-house life at Oxford had very well seasoned us, "You're rather in luck you fellows," said Barkins; "the season is just about to commence, and they are going to give a ball at the Fort yonder next week, just by way of commencement, when you will see the manners and customs of this tight little Island. At present, come out and look at the spot; and see how you like it." And we went out, and saw the spot, Barkins doing the cicerone business lions lie altogether, it doesn't take long to see If a Next day we accordingly went to see the people, and very jolly and affable we found they were to us: whether they were so to themselves is quite another thing. They showed us no slight hospitality, offering to take us out in yachts, suggesting croquet, and the male kind hinting that there was a decent cricket-ground, and a billiard-table handy. In a few hours we were at our ease. Cloanthus made himself very agreeable, and retailed his little budget of jokes; and I discoursed the elders, being a "discreet man; and all this, on a place we had been led to expect a rock, and nothing else. We did no reading though. Day after day passed, and still the stern volumes of the "infernal Chitty," as Praed calls him, glared reproachfully upon us, and Blackstone's cheerful Commentaries, and Burn's Justice, frowned to remind us of lost time, and still the example of the good Doctor's "busy bee" was not in the least emnlated it. till at last we determined to throw reading to the dogs; we would have none of it. The first thing to do was to get a bird's-eye view of society here, and a most amusing study we found First among the natives, there was Monsieur le Juge,very fat and very pompous, and very hospitable, with a most exalted idea of his ownjudicial prerogative, and a great authority on the curious laws of the island, though wicked Fame reported that this Socrates had his Xantippe. Monsieur le Juge looks down upon the Procureur, who, in his turn, snubs the Greffier, who takes it out of the policeman, I suppose. It is needless for me to say that these officials all hated one another, with a good hearty official hatred, and never met in public or at the "Chief Pleas" of the island, without bullying one another terribly. Then there was the society non-official, of which the Church and the Doctor and some private people formed the ingredients; these seemed to agree passing well-that is, they did not quarrel and say bitter things of one another oftener than once-a-inonth. The third element in the society was the military, who occupied decidedly the best position of all, for they struck neither on the Scylla of the official, nor the Charybdis of the mixed party, but kept "the even tenor of their way," showing often at the croquet parties, and looming good-naturedly with their gorgeous shirt-fronts, and bored expression at evenings," when there was a little music, a little whist, and a great deal of conversation, amatory and otherwise. A good many of the warriors, though, had pursuits that kept them a good deal to themselves. One man, for instance, shot all the sea-birds, and stuffed the carcases, till the barrack-room looked like a section of the British Museum, and many a beautiful gull's breast, which had rested lightly on the blue waters of the Channel, curled afterwards round the fair tresses of beauty. Another went in for "securing the shadow ere the substance fled," and by means of a good photographic apparatus handed down to an admiring posterity croquet groups and family circles, in the which each individual person tried his best to look unconcerned, as the custom is. A few of these "warriors so bold," contented themselves with shutting themselves into their quarters, and cursing Alderney by their gods, and, like Mariana, declared that they were a-weary a-weary," and would that they were dead. But these were a kind of men who saw beauty, neither in the heavens above, nor in the earth beneath, nor in the ocean with its grand old song and varying face; who simply kept themselves alive by regretful dreams of Jersey quarters, "their life in Egypt, the dalliance and the wit," the Sunday afternoon balls, the picnics and the witching faces of the Jersey dames. So much for the island society; now for their amusements. Summer, of course, is the time for enjoyment in this place, for in the winter time, when the "stormy winds do blow," in different boisterously, they have to keep in-doors. In most places Sunday is a little dull, insomuch that the brave Belgians compared London on a Sunday to a city of the dead. No cafés, no music, no gaiety-a sombre pall in everything. A country town on the seventh day is appalling in its melancholy. A rainy Sunday once, in a Scotch town, very nearly turned my ambrosial locks grey; and if I had not by kind Providence met an elder of the Kirk, who made merry with me on much whisky, I should have gone clean mad. But in Alderney the ease is different: there festus agitur dies, and at the church porch everybody meets everybody, and there is a very pleasant talkee-talkee, and Miss Florinda's new bonnet, which has just arrived from Guernsey, is much criticised, and the last funny thing said at the croquet party is generally retailed. And then those Sunday evening walks from Government House square to the rocky promontory of Clanque, with the young May moon beaming placidly down upon the many couples, and the sea singing its old, old song. It is very amusing to see the manner in which the young people pair off in these walks. There is a dash made, and the not unwilling maiden is rescued from under the maternal wing, and soon in regular boarding-school file, the " 'spooning" party streams off, leaving the old people to follow as best they may their hearts are young and green though, perchance, and they remind them of their "ain lang cooltin" lang syne. And who shall say the mischief that is done in these twilight ramblesthe "Delight of happy laughter, The delight of low replies ?" I only know that Cloanthus raved in a manner that made me shy a boot at his head, after these walks of some flava Neæra of the Isles kopog raλoppa, who, had she been old enough, he would have asked to share his heart and home. For be it remarked here, that the Alderney girls age remarkably fast, and very probably the charmer who is carrying on a conversation with you, and parrying all your flirting and causerie, with all the nerve and steadiness of five-and-twenty, is, after all, only adorned by "the petitionary grace of sweet seventeen." I hope they do not settle down into science and scandal, old women at thirty, like the American ladies. An invitation from Fort Albert apprised us that the ball which Barkins had mentioned was coming off. It was to be a great affair for the island, and threw all our fair young friends into a tremor of mingled hope and despair, inasmuch that the thoughts of handsome partners from Guernsey and Jersey stirred the præcordia of their little hearts, while they feared the beauty of the Jersey "hookers." How we were to get to Fort Albert was the question, for the island boasted but few public vehicles; one of the artillery officers had a dogcart, which on its first arrival must have created as much surprise amongst the natives as the |