them skittish. By the way, you ride, don't you, Miss Dysart? Your sister does, I know. Such a pretty horse, almost the same color as my Rosabelle. Why don't you ride over to Birchwood to lunch some day?"

Certainly there was no way of checking Mrs. Jacobson's friendliness or getting away from her, and she walked on at such a pace that Jenny was afraid Sybil would feel herself deserted, and did not wonder she found it impossible to keep company with them. It was a comfort to her to reflect that when they gained the highroad their ways lay in opposite directions; but even then Mrs. Jacobson made a stand, and not satisfied with saying goodbye, assailed Sybil with the same warmth of invitation which she had lavished on her sister.

"Your sister tells me she doesn't ride. I am so sorry; for I have been teasing her to come and see me; but you do, I know, so you have no excuse. Now do come to luncheon some day. I shall be so glad. I've been wanting to see more of you ever since that pleasant afternoon on the cricket-field, and you must excuse informality. We Mickleham people are shockingly informal, aren't we, Mr. Vane?"

"Are you?" he said, laughing. "If so, I am glad of it. I like informality when I like the people it brings me among."

He looked towards Sybil as he spoke, and though her face was turned towards Mrs. Jacobson he saw the color mount

into it.

"I shall be very glad to come some day," she said shyly.

CHAPTER XIII.
JENNY DIFFers.

"Was Mrs. Jacobson pushing? I didn't notice it," she said. "I thought she seemed very kind, and I did go there once, you know; Lion took me. What didn't you like in her, Jenny?"

"What?" repeated Jenny. The question took away her breath. She had never contemplated the idea that Sybil would not agree with her, or that there could be two opinions on the subject. "Why, everything. Her over-talk, and her overdress, and her lisp, and even her color; for I am sure it was artificial. Why, Sybil, I should have thought she was just the woman you and Lion would have abominated."

There could be no suspicion as to artificiality in Sybil's color, it came too readily; but with it there was a look of displeasure at present, and she answered more decidedly than was at all her wont.

"I am not given to 'abominating' people, Jenny, and I think it is a pity to use such strong expressions, even if Lion does. Besides, I hardly fancy he would have taken me to Mrs. Jacobson's if he had had such a feeling against her, and I don't think it is charitable to run down other women in that way. You will make very few friends if you get into the habit of it."

It was on Jenny's lips to say that she would not care to make many friends of the Mrs. Jacobson stamp; but she was so petrified by her sister's tone, that for the moment she hardly found words to answer at all. What had she said that was so uncharitable? Was it about the only too apparent rouge on Mrs. Jacobson's cheeks? Well, perhaps she might have been wrong in her suspicions. She must have been, in expressing them, or Sybil would not have been so vexed. Sybil at any rate was sure to be right.

"Was I running her down?" she said good-temperedly. "I didn't mean to do so, poor woman, and perhaps she can't help her lisp. Still, Sybil, I must own I thought her very pushing; and if mamma had been there I expect she would have said the same. Surely you don't like her?"

"My dear Sybil, what a horrid woman, and how could you be dragged into say ing you would go to see her!" Jenny exclaimed, as the sisters, released at last, turned their steps homewards. "You are not half severe enough in putting people down. I did my best, but it wasn't much good, and I hoped you would second me." Sybil laughed. She was still looking a little flushed and excited, just enough to make her prettier than ever, and Gareth"but as for mamma had thought so, as for the second time he took her hand in bidding her good-bye. His eyes said as much; but fortunately she was as unconscious of their meaning as of the outraged state of Jenny's feelings.

"I don't either like or dislike people I know nothing about," Sybil answered with the same slight touch of petulance; Well, Jenny,

you know as well as I that it is not fair to quote her, seeing that she hardly ever takes to any one. If we were to do exactly as mamma does we might as well live in a hermitage at once; but I don't suppose she always shunned society as

But Jenny had been scolded, and was in a wilful mood.

"No,

she does now. And we have not even | tures are so regular, and the eyes
her excuse. We are not widows or -or Did you notice them, and the face alto-
middle-aged people."
gether, Jenny? It is like a picture."
"I don't want to shun society, I am
sure," said Jenny, feeling herself put in
the wrong, but hardly knowing how.
"Surely, however, one can tell good style
from bad, and there is a difference be-
tween shutting oneself up in a hermitage
and being a little particular. Indeed, I
thought that you would have been more
vexed than I, because you were left to
walk behind with that handsome, fast-
looking man who stared so rudely and
shook hands when he was introduced to
you as coolly as if

"He knew me already," Sybil put in, her cheeks more crimson than pink now, but speaking in a much gentler tone. "And so he did! Do you remember, Jenny, my telling you last autumn how nearly I was shot one day coming home through Farmer Dyson's field in the partridge season, and how kind and sorry the the person was about it? Well, that gentleman that we met to-day was the same man; and I have seen him once since then as well-only last week, when Lion and I were out riding. I had dismounted, while Lion went into a house, and had tied Princess to a tree; but she managed to loose herself and get away; and fortunately.he-this gentleman was passing and caught her for me. I was very grateful to him for it, and I think,' the soft eyes brightening, "that if he had been a fast man he might have dispensed with an introduction altogether. As it was, I was very pleased to meet him again, and be able to thank him; and I dare say you would have been the same in my place; for nothing could have been kinder or more courteous than he was; and he didn't even know who I was, and must have thought me very awkward and troublesome, and—and foolish altogether."

"What picture?" she asked. no, Sybil; I will forgive him for shaking hands with you under the circumstances, but I can't admire his eyes. They were like the wolf's in 'Little Red Riding Hood.' Take care of yourself. He has begun by shooting at you. He may end by eating you up."

She turned in at their own gate as she spoke, laughing merrily still, but Sybil's smile in answer was rather forced, and she was glad that Jenny turned off into the yard to visit Rolf the watch-dog, and so left her free to go to her own room alone.

Sybil did not like mysteries and unconventionalities; and her last encounter with Gareth had left an uncomfortable feeling on her mind: a feeling which increased to actual embarrassment when, lifting her eyes during the sermon, she suddenly saw him in a pew not far from her and gazing at her with fixed, appealing eyes, as if seeking the recognition which she felt her cheeks were giving in spite of herself. Mrs. Jacobson's friendly greeting and prompt introductions had set that all right; and Gareth seemed so delighted at it, spoke so gratefully of the happy "chance "" which had brought him and his hostess to Chadleigh church that morning, and said so many more pretty things to her during the few minutes that they were together than she generally received in the course of a fortnight, that she could not help feeling pleased and fluttered too. It is all very well to be quite superior to admiration, and all very nice to be engaged to a man who goes in for sensible conversation instead of silly compliments; but at one-and-twenty compliments don't always seem silly, and sensible conversation sometimes wearies.

"Why, Sybil, of course I should," cried Jenny, all the more penitently because It was rather a way of Gareth's to talk Sybil's voice had assumed an almost tear- to girls whom he admired as though they ful intonation. "Only, how could I guess were children, and he a man of middle who he was! I remember that fright of age and experience; and it is true that he yours quite well. It alarmed me even to was aged-in the latter. Sybil was not. hear of it; and we didn't tell mamma lest Perhaps for that very reason she felt init should upset her. I suppose that was clined to admire him more unreservedly why you didn't mention having met him than if he had been quite a young man. again last week. Do you think he recog-Indeed, she thought him much older than nized you then?" he was; the very way in which he alluded Oh, yes! Why, I recognized him," to Lionel as a young fellow of much said Sybil, adding simply: "It was easier for me, however, because he is so much better-looking than most men. His fea

promise seeming to stamp himself with the seal of seniority, and to take any sound of impertinence from a speech he

made as he showed Sybil a few half-with- | himself, he told me so, and that he knew ered flowers in his button-hole.

"Do you know what hand dropped these? I have kept them, for I had a fancy that I should touch it with mine before they faded quite; but they have needed a great deal of cherishing to make my fancy come true.”

And Lion had knocked their fellows into the dirt and trampled on them! Sybil must have been more than strong minded not to feel mortified and flattered at the same moment.

most of the men of the day; so he ought to be a judge. I—I should have liked you to have seen him, mammy.'

"Ah, I have drifted out of the world of literary people since I came down here," sighed Mrs. Dysart, "but it was for you girls, and it has been all for the best. I would rather see people through your eyes now. If Mrs. Jacobson calls, as you say she wants to do, I will submit to it for Lion's sake; but for my own I know quite enough people."

She said no more about it, however. She did not say anything about submitJenny's raillery, either because it vexed ting to see Mrs. Jacobson's friend; and her, or because she was annoyed at being the idea would not even have occurred to vexed by it, had that effect, it sealed her Sybil herself. She had done her duty in lips a bad thing in a woman, say what mentioning him, and in doing so had peryou will to the contrary. Talk is a wom-suaded herself as well as her mother that an's safety-valve. It is not till she is any interest she might feel in him was deprived of that medium for mental evap-on Lion's account. Dear Lion! It was oration that she becomes dangerous. pleasant to hear him praised by strangers.

If, however, Jenny's little joke about Red Riding Hood's wolf prevented her sister from saying any more to her of its object, Sybil's strictures had the effect of silencing the young girl on the score of Mr. Vane's hostess; and when later in the afternoon she overheard Sybil giving an account of the meeting with Mrs. Jacobson to her mother, and describing in her own pleasant way the former's friendliness and agreeability, Jenny glided out of the room lest her silence should appear like dissent, and a dissent all the more unamiable because she saw from Sybil's way of putting it that Mrs. Jacobson's warm admiration of Lion formed the chief ground for her sister's appreciation of the lady.

Mrs. Dysart thought the same and laughed a little as she answered, stroking the fair head: "I'm afraid my daughter would find something charming in any one who admired her lover. Still, I own our Lion's sermons are a trifle better than those of young curates in general; and it shows a certain superiority in a woman of these parts" (there was always a modicum of fine scorn in Mrs. Dysart's allusions to the neighborhood where she had elected to dwell) "to be able to appreciate the difference. The boy will be flattered if people from Mickleham come to hear him."

"And London people, too, mamma," said Sybil a little eagerly. "For the gentleman with Mrs. Jacobson, a Mr. Vane, had only run down from town for a few days; and he said he would rather hear Lion than a good many fashionable London preachers. He was a literary man

Lion himself was ungrateful, however. "Mrs. Jacobson!" he exclaimed in anything but complimentary tones, when coming to call a day or two later he found Jenny in the garden by herself, and heard that his lady-love was out, having been carried off for a drive by the lady in question. "What on earth brought her here?"

"She called," said Jenny rather shortly; then seeing further enquiries in Lion's uplifted eyebrows: "Mamma had a headache and was lying down she is now so Sybil went down; and as it was such a lovely day Mrs. Jacobson persuaded her to go for a drive. Mamma said she might. She will be sorry, though, if she finds you came when she was out."

"I am sorry she went," said Lion. "Sybil is too good to be driving about with that vulgar little woman. What made her call here at all?"

-

- she

"Why didn't Syb tell you? was at church last Sunday. I think she said she came over to hear you preach, and admired your sermon immensely. She walked as far as the turning with us afterwards, and praised your eloquence to the skies."

"Flummery!" said Lion. "I don't believe she ever listened to a sermon in her life or could tell you what it was about. Just like her; all flummery together!"

"Who is uncharitable now!" cried Jenny, looking up from the geranium she was planting to shake her trowel laughingly at her future brother. "If Sybil were here wouldn't you get a lecture! I did the other day for finding fault with

Áh, that was because she is always so tenderly charitable herself," said Lion fondly, his ill-humor passing away at the thought of his lady-love's good qualities. "You know how she hates to be discour-ried life. teous or to hurt any one's feelings. Sometimes I doubt whether she remembers that she has any wishes of her own, she is so ready to fall in with other people's. I dare say she won't even own to having been bored when she comes back. There, Jenny, leave those geraniums and come indoors, I've something to show you. A friend bas sent me a parcel from New Zealand of the most lovely ferns; and I brought them round with me. They'll make your mouth water."

making Jenny worse. How am I to shake | them all about it; and her confidences hands across all this litter!" had been rebuffed, and her friends sneered at!

"Try," said Lion, stretching across it to prison one hand in his big hold. 66 Never you mind her, Jenny. She scolds us because she has been bored herself. Well, you poor victim to politeness, how have you survived it? I was very angry to find you had gone."

Angry! Why?" asked Sybil innocently. "Indeed, it was very pleasant; and oh, Jenny, what do you think?” But Jenny interrupted her.

There, Lion, I told you so! Sybil never will own that being amiable to uncongenial people is unpleasant. I believe she makes a principle of it. Sybil, come and look at these lovely foreign ferns. Now, isn't this an Aspleninm? Lion declares it's a Gymnogramma, but I am sure it's as like our Asplenium RutaMuraria as it can be. Look."

“Very like,” said Sybil, glancing at the fern without much attention. Dead plants were by no means as interesting to her as green and growing ones. "But, Jenny, did you hear what I was saying. Mr. Vane has been in Austria. He was there two years ago, and stayed several days in our town; he

When Jenny came running up-stairs a little later, to say tea was ready, and mamma and Lion calling out for their sunbeam to sweeten it, she went down at once and showed herself as bright and serene as a sunbeam should; but she said no more of her late companions, and Jenny did not even know whence came the little bunch of wild flowers which she found in a glass of water on the table by her sister's bed.

From Temple Bar.

LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD.

AMONG the Irishmen who took part in the events which led to the rebellion of 1798, and stood out boldly to denounce and resist the corrupt despotism beneath which their country groaned, there are few who hold so high a place as Lord Edward FitzGerald. It was patriotism, wholly disinterested, that urged him to the lengths he went; and had the cause he espoused been gained, instead of lost, "Mr. Vane? Oh! the man with the he would have been ranked among the Red Riding Hood wolf's eyes," said Jen-heroes of modern history. As it is, his "Was he with you, then? Does he memory will always be cherished by his live with the Jacobsons? countrymen.

ny.

Surely Mrs. Jacobson hadn't the coolness to bring her men friends here?" cried Lion. "What impertinence! It was well for her your mother wasn't down. Don't, for goodness' sake, get intimate with that woman, Sybil. Jacobson is thoroughly bad, fast and hard-living, and his friends are the same. Now, Jenny, you are putting the wrong ones together. That's no more an Asplenium than I am. Look at the arrangement of the spores, and- ""

Sybil went quietly away to take off her bonnet. She was not cross with either Lion or her sister for their strictures on her new friends or their absorption in the occupation they had in hand; but she was disappointed. The drive had been so pleasant. Such pretty things had been said, both of her sister and her lover. Mr. Vane had even compared the latter's style to that of Kingsley, and expressed a wish to know him; and it had been so delightful to hear that old town on the Adriatic, where her earliest years were passed, spoken of with the interest of intimacy. She wanted to share her pleasure with Lion and Jenny, to tell

He was born in 1763, being the fifth son of James, first Duke of Leinster, by his marriage with Lady Emilia Lennox, daughter of Charles, second Duke of Richmond. He was ten years old when he lost his father. The following year, his mother married a Scotch gentleman, named Ogilvie, who proved an excellent stepfather to her younger children.

The army was the profession for which young FitzGerald was intended, and to which his own taste inclined. We find him at seventeen, in America, serving with his regiment, the 19th, in the war with our revolted colonies. Here his gallant conduct procured him the post of aide-de-camp to Lord Rawdon. Wherever the danger was greatest, there he was to be found; in one engagement he received a deep sword-cut in the thigh, was dashed from his horse, and left on the field for dead. He was discovered in such sorry plight, by a poor Indian, who carried him to his hut, and nursed him till he was able to be removed to Charlestown. This negro, who became strongly attached to the young man he had befriended, refused to leave him, and we