LOOKING BACK.

Three years it seems not half so long,
Since first I saw and first I loved ;
And all within my heart was moved
To worship. Yet I write this song
Just three years later than that hour,
And find you still my guiding star,
That shines upon me when afar,
And draws me with its mystic power.

For time but makes me closelier thine.
However other souls may range
And seek new loves, we never change;
And ours with brighter light doth shine
Than that which beams so bright at first,
Yet when the storms of earth assail

Is first to fade and first to fail,

And flies when help is needed worst.

For stronger, purer, still it grows,

Till Time and Death shall be no more; And hand in hand we walk the shore, Where love immortal crowns our brows.

SEEPE-N.

OUR CURATE.

CHAPTER V.

A prolonged shrug of the shoulders, accompanied by that soft indrawn whistle which so eloquently betokens surprise, not unmingled with pity, was my involuntary response to Staunton, for I was fairly taken aback.

"I see I have kept my secret tolerably well since you have not discovered it," he said, looking amused at my wonderment, "but I may as well own, Llewellyn, that for some time past I have been over head and ears in love with Florence Mercier. Before I set out to learn my fate, let me know that I have your best wishes, old fellow." And he held out his hand as he spoke.

"As you love the girl, I wish you success with all my heart," I replied, returning his grasp, "but I confess that at present I am hardly able to realise the news. Does she know anything of this, may I ask?"

"I don't think I can have hidden my feelings so successfully from her as from you," he said, smiling-although his quivering lips betrayed a suppressed agitation,-"young ladies have pretty strong intuitions; but whether I have any chance I cannot say, for she has never given me the slightest encouragement. I feel that I must speak to her at once, for it's getting a serious business with me, and if I find the case hopeless, I shall take this appointment in London."

"And so the welfare of our parish hangs on the thread of a wilful girl's 'yes' or 'no!' Well, for God's sake go and get it over quickly, Staunton, and may her better nature be uppermost when she is dealing with a love like yours. You will call in and tell me the result ?"

"Certainly, and now good-bye for the present." With this he left the room, and his nervous, hurried steps, and heightened colour, told me it would go hard with him if he encountered a repulse.

It was useless to try and settle down to my work in the face of this startling and unexpected avowal of my friend, and I flung myself on to the couch to give full play to the reflections which came crowding into my mind.

The congregation of St. Francis included its full share of womanly attractiveness; and if bachelor Curates are as much the cynosure of the regards of the softer sex, as they suppose themselves to be, the pulpit of our Church must have been an enviable position, from which to take a general survey with a view to matrimony. Even from my humble corner in the transept, I could find objects of earthly worship whose variety of charms tended sadly to keep one's aspirations from rising into loftier and more abstract regions. And he would have been difficult to please, indeed, who from that assembly of fair faces could not have chosen one to be the bright particular star of his future life.

To say that any of the girls in our congregation had 'set their caps at Edmund Staunton, would be a base libel on the modest and maidenly natures of most of them. And yet I believe he might have taken his choice with almost absolute certainty of success; for in all the manly qualities dear to discriminating maidenhood, he was peerless amongst us. More than one gentle girl bore a tell-tale face as she gazed at the young preacher, and drank in the witching eloquence of his lips; and it needed no great art to detect the favour with which they received him, an everwelcome guest, into their parents' homes.

I had often speculated (idly perhaps,) as to where his choice would fall, and had tried to picture to myself one and another in the character of our Curate's wife. Would not Mary Leigh, for instance, eldest daughter of our senior church-warden, who had managed her father's household from the age of sixteen, and bravely fulfilled her promise to a dying mother, that the little ones of the family should henceforth be her special care,-be a prize worth the winning? Would not Ethel Foster make an excellent clergyman's wife, with her heart bent on quiet deeds of charity amongst the poor of the district, on whom she spent most of her fortune as well as her time? Then, too, there was the young schoolmistress, Maud Stanley, lately settled amongst us, like himself; having apparently no kith nor kin in the world, and yet creating affection and respect everywhere by the modesty with which she bore her beauty and her accomplishments.

Here my reverie would get somewhat disturbed, and go off at a tangent; for, to say the truth, the idea of Maud's being married to anybody-even to Staunton himself,-began to assume an unpleasant shape to the dreamer, and tempted him to wish that either the Curate were not quite so attractive, or that he-the dreamer-were rather more so. And then other visions would come, from which Staunton disappeared altogether, and Well! Heaven forgive me if on this evening I felt a fierce pleasure in Maud Stanley's rejection for another, although I believed my friend utterly mistaken in his choice.

And so Florence Mercier was the lucky girl that had won the prize! I confessed to myself that I had quite overlooked her chance when venturing to carve out Staunton's matrimonial future. Many as were the eligible "matches" for our Curate, on whom my fancy had ever and anon lighted, Miss Mercier had not once crossed my mind; and as I recalled the gay, reckless, haughty young Irish girl-fitter, as I thought, to grace the establishment of a dashing country squire, than to be the helpmate of an earnest hard-working young parson of limited incomeI could not help the feeling of surprise and misgiving which I'm afraid Staunton saw only too plainly on my face.

Major Mercier and his daughter occupied an almost unique position amongst the members of our Congregation. Wealthy and fashionable as the latter was, it consisted mainly of Birmingham people, and represented almost exclusively the Aristocracy of commercial and professional life. Upon the features of our leading men, keen business strife during the previous six days left its shadow on the seventh; and

some of our matrons, notwithstanding their present elegant surroundings, looked as though in years gone by they had taken a full wifely share in the up-hill struggle after wealth and position. That nameless grace of person and manner which comes of sang pur; the subtle exhalation of 'style,' seemingly inseparable from a long course of good society-was sufficiently rare at St. Francis to ensure immediate recognition and homage. And such a distinction the Merciers could fairly claim.

Major Mercier was one of a long line of Officers in the Army, each eldest son of the family having for generations been a soldier. His father was formerly Colonel of the same regiment of Dragoons from which he himself had retired a few years before, and his only boy was soon to go to Sandhurst. His wife was the daughter and heiress of an Irish gentleman, who left a long pedigree and an irksomely encumbered estate; and when at her death he came into Warwickshire, that he might at once be within reach of his son at Rugby, and enjoy some of the hunting for which the Midlands are famous, he had been induced by his old college companion, Mr. Marshall,—almost the only friend he knew in this part of the country-to settle down near the Vicarage of the latter, in an old-fashioned, half-timbered farm-house, known as The Lysways. This was a modest, unpretentious place, befitting both the Major's tastes and his rather limited income. Nevertheless it had charms for those possessing the "open sesame" which were found wanting in the handsomest mansions and best appointed "Establishments" of the neighbourhood; and to be received as a welcome guest in the ivy-covered, many-angled little building, whose roof was scarcely higher than the surrounding evergreens, was an honour oftener coveted than obtained. For therein was dispensed a hospitality rare in its union of extreme simplicity with inborn taste and refinement. The whitehaired, kindly master of the house was one of nature's true noblemen, the grace of whose presence compelled involuntary reverence and esteem; and whether conducting a lady to the drawing room, discussing politics with a Radical manufacturer, or giving orders to his cook, the same courtly, old-fashioned politeness, begotten of a tender regard for the feelings of others, was equally conspicuous. He gave no formal dinner parties, but was fond of the company of one or two of his friends, and while entertaining them with plain and frugal fare, never failed to charm them with the perfect appointments of the meal. Good taste was everywhere apparent, from the spotless damask table-cloth and antique china, to the dress of the attractive looking parlour-maid who so deftly anticipated her master's wishes. And when, after a delightful evening, ending with a game at cribbage and a cheroot in his study, the gallant gentleman came to the hall-door with his guests, and insisted on conducting them safely along the winding drive into the road, the latter departed with a new sense, as though a very odour of chivalry had been breathed upon them.

A few acres of grass-land alone remained of the once extensive farm, but they were sufficient to afford occasional grazing to the pair of thorough-breds which constituted the Major's one extravagance. He

dearly loved horses, and rarely allowed a day to pass without riding some miles into the country, while at least once a week during the season he hunted with the North Warwickshire, of which he was a member. Many a time in the course of my summer evening rambles have I met him cantering along in keen enjoyment of the exercise, and I generally turned to watch his slim, soldierly, erect figure out of sight, after exchanging a friendly greeting.

On one occasion I had been able to render him a slight service at my office in town, and it procured for me an invitation to The Lysways for the following evening. This was my first visit, and I was the only guest. I found, to my surprise, that the Major was a book-loving man, well versed in general literature, and with a special taste for botanical research. Singularly enough this was my own favourite study, and so we got on admirably together, for he had a fine collection of specimens. At parting, he was kind enough to give me a general invitation to go and see him whenever I felt inclined. I did go once or twice afterwards, but the familiarity implied by his courteous request was difficult to assume, and I felt that I had no claim to take him too literally at his word. It was during these visits that I found how completely his heart was set on his daughter Florence, who had left school just before his settlement at The Lysways, and at the urgent request of her uncle, had been permitted to go and spend a few months with the family of the latter in the West of Ireland. She ought to have been here before this," he said one evening, "to take her place as mistress of my little establishment, but her wild young cousins plead so hard for her to stay over the Ballinacog Steeplechases, for which two of them have horses entered, that I suppose I must let her have her fling a little longer. She is wonderfully like her poor, dear mother yonder,"—and as he spoke he glanced affectionately opposite at the portrait of a handsome, dark-eyed, determined looking lady,-" warm-hearted, and as true as steel, but with a will of her own and an Irishwoman's love of fun and mischief. She writes to me every Saturday, and chronicles little else than a continued round of country dissipation. I'm afraid she will find this place very different," -and he fell into a thoughtful silence which had something of uncertainty and mistrust in it. "Changing the subject, Mr. Llewellyn,” he continued presently, "we seem to have got hold of the right Curate for St. Francis at last. Staunton is evidently a splendid young fellow, and every inch a gentleman. What a pleasure it is to have a face like that to look at every Sunday! By the way, as he is your fellow-lodger, try and induce him to come with you next time; I shall be pleased to make his acquaintance and wish him God-speed in his new work. Suppose we say this day week, if it is convenient to you both?" I agreed, and had no difficulty in persuading Staunton to accompany me, for he had been as much struck with the Major's appearance at Church as the latter had been with his own. They were soon on excellent terms with each other, drawn by the natural magnetism of a kindred nobility of nature. "Come and see the horses before dinner" he said, leading us to the stables; "if you are fond of a beautiful bit of blood, I think I can