Fox-a loud-tongued, audacious, unscrupulous fellow, whom even his own party feared and disliked. In most English boroughs there will be found, on one side or the other, a man of this class-a man whose sublime impudence and mendacity make him powerful. Fox, in close committee of the more active Radicals, had expressed his determination that Luttrel should be opposed-even if he stood himself. It was urged that Guy had been at the head of the poll last time, and would come back with added popularity as member of a new Ministry. But Fox was resolute; reproached his colleagues with showing the white feather, and obtained his own way by sheer force of obstinacy. So a candidate was found, in the person of Sir Arthur Willesden, and a persevering canvass began. Guy had little time for canvassing, but calmly left the matter in the hands of Parker -a shrewd, safe player of the electioneering game, who had very seldom permitted an opponent to checkmate him. I may confess, however, that Lady Vivian Ashleigh's low carriage, with the gray ponies, was pretty often seen in Riverdale at this time; and although the British shopkeeper is in matters political immaculate, yet the idea may have crossed one or two minds that the custom of the future Countess was likely to be worth more than that of the insolvent Baronet.

Riverdale being, as we have said, famous for its prize-fighters and cricketers, of course an election usually involved a fine series of rows. Those narrow alleys leading from the Rope Walk, in each of which lay perdu at least one public-house, were splendid places for a quiet fight. Two or three large old-fashioned hotels had great yards, in which skirmishes of a livelier description often took place the Radicals of the Flying Horse making an attack on the Tories of the Black Boy, or vice versû. And the great market square was frequently the scene of a general engagement, which lasted till Mr. Chief Constable Severne brought his blue-coats down in full force upon the riotous mob.

Pugilists are seldom politicians; but at Riverdale their allegiance was pretty equally divided. The wily Fox, however, had secured the special services of a Cornishman named Bolitho, a giant from Truro, who

after having proved himself the most tremendous wrestler in the peninsula, had been taken in hand by the redoubtable Jonathan Burton, who was training him to challenge the Champion, when an unlucky accident already mentioned, suspended the said Burton's professional labours. The ordinary Cornish wrestler, an hereditary worker in mines, is short and enormously thick set; his centre of gravity lying so low that to move him from his stand-point is something like moving a mountain. He is, almost without exaggeration, "as broad as he is long.' I have often thought what splendid material for infantry such men would make. Occasionally, as in Bolitho's case, one of these massive men grows upwards also; and then you have a true Titan. This fellow's hug was deadly. He was but two-and-twenty, and had become illustrious throughout both Cornwall and Devon. Burton, who had heard of his prowess through the Sporting Life, hit on the original idea of adding boxing to wrestling skill, and so carrying away the belt. So Bolitho was brought to Riverdale, where he was first known as "Burton's Novice," and subsequently as "The Truro Baby." He had not learnt to hit straight when his worthy instructor was deprived of his liberty through Hugh Mauleverer's presence of mind and prompt action. It is as hard to teach a wrestler to hit straight from the shoulder, as to teach a sabreur to use the rapier.

On the morning of nomination, the Riverdale Court party had driven in early to breakfast with Archdeacon Coningsby. The Earl was in Downingstreet; but his daughter was there, and Guy Luttrel, of course, and Hugh Mauleverer, and Wynyard Powys, and Mr. Tostig, the architect, who was still busy with the Christabel Chamber. Parker was there, too, looking perfectly satisfied with the position of affairs.

"You mean to win, evidently, Parker," said the Archdeacon.

"We are safe enough, if my directions are observed, of which I have no fear.'

"What is your peculiar policy?"

"O, it's simple enough-poll early. We are not quite sure of a majority of votes, but if we are well ahead at noon we shall take all the waverers,"

"Nothing succeeds like success," said Guy.

"I'll be there at the very first moment the polling begins," said the Archdeacon.

"O, George, you had better not expose yourself to danger," said his

sister.

"Danger! pooh, pooh! I should like to see the man in Riverdale that would be insolent to me."

"What would you do?" asked Hugh. "Excommunicate him?”

"Come," said Parker, "it is quite time we went to the hustings. We'll eme back and tell the ladies the news at lunch."

"I say," said Powys, aside, to Luttrel "This won't do. That cracked architect mustn't go with us, looking like a chap out of a pantomime."

"I don't think you should venture into the crowd in that peculiar costime, Mr. Tostig," said Guy. "They are a riotous set here in Riverdale, and may annoy you."

"I am not at all afraid of them," replied the architect.

Well," said the Archdeacon, "I should be; and people don't call me a coward."

"You had better stay with us," said Lady Vivian, persuasively.

But Tostig was not to be persuaded. His costume was the pride of his heart, and he verily believed that its glory would overawe even an election mob. Sage Dr. Kitchener believed that you might drive away a savage dog by turning your back to him, and stooping down so as to look at him between your legs.

The party set off.

"I am sadly afraid," said the Hon. Miss Coningsby to Vivian," that poor Mr. Tostig will get into some trouble; They are such very rough people here."

There will be plenty of police men," said Vivian." "I don't think there is much cause for alarm."

Guy Luttrel and his opponent were both proposed and seconded in speeches of which nobody heard anything. Guy, knowing his men, made as short a speech as possible; for what is the use of speaking at great length to people who won't listen Sir Arthur, less experienced, roared and gesticulated, but with no result ex pt that he was heare for a week after it.

Then came the show of hands, which his worship the Mayor (a respectable tallow-chandler) gave in favour of the baronet ; and a poll was demanded for Guy Luttrel; and it was all over.

Not quite all. The Riverdale crowd, thanks to Severne's judicious tactics, had been kept unusually quiet; but, as the occupants of the hustings descended, the luckless architect attracted sudden attention. "There goes the Tory clown!” shouted somebody.

"What'll you take for your toggery inquired another.

Guy Luttrel had hurried away with Parker to his office: the Archdeacon and Hugh Mauleverer were arm-in-arm at the foot of the hust ings, waiting for the crowd to give way. Suddenly the uproar grew louder, and Wynyard Powys, making his way back to them, exclaimed,

"They're tearing Tostig to pieces

"Where " said the dauntless Coningsby. In an instant the venerable priest pushed through the mob towards the scene of riot. Mauleverer and Powys kept close to him. In the midst of a crowd of roughs, of whom the gigantic" Truro Baby" was ringleader, they found the hapless architect. Cloak and hood were gone long ago; his superb doublet of purple velvet had just been torn from his shoulders, and the silver buttons were causing two or three simultaneous fights. Tostig, powerless amid his vast assailants, was declaiming fiercely.

"I am ashamed of you' Cow ARDS exclaimed the Archdeacon, in a voice of thunder. “Leave him alone."

Hugh Mauleverer, meanwhile, had caught Bolitho by the collar with a firm grasp. But the huge Cornishman, turning suddenly round, encircled Hugh's neck with his powerful arm, administering that tremendous hug for which he was famous. I fear I should at this moment have lost one of my heroes, but for ChiefConstable Severne. Seeing the battle from afar, he drove his horse straight towards the scene of action: the crowd parted before him like water, and he arrived, by good hap, just as Bolitho had closed with Hugh, his right arm round his adversary a neck, Down came. Severnes life-preserver on the "Truro Baby's' forearm, crash

1

ing the bone to fragments, and spoiling his pugilistic prospects for ever. The fellow uttered a hideous yell; and Hugh, shaking himself as if to ascertain whether there was any life left in him, said—

"You are always just in time, Mr. Severne. A minute more, and the fellow would have strangled me."

"When you have had my experience," said Severne, laughing, "you won't give that sort of man a chance. You should have knocked him down the moment you reached him.”

"Excellent advice, from a custodian of the Queen's peace," said Hugh. "But you see I did not anticipate his hug. He is a stranger, I see. The roughs of Riverdale hit pretty hard, but don't squeeze."

"He's the Truro Baby," said the Chief Constable, "and I'm happy to say you've enabled me to spoil his chance of being Champion of England."

"Truro Baby! Champion of England!" said Archdeacon Coningsby, who, having been lecturing his riotous parishioners, had just caught Severne's last words, "what in the world do you mean?"

Severne began to explain.

"Come home, and have some lunch, Mr. Severne," said the Archdeacon, much interested. "The peace of the town must be restored by this time, and I want to hear more about this man and his comrades."

The Chief Constable accepted; and a conversation ensued, from which the Archdeacon obtained so much information, that he electrified his hearers on the following Sunday by a sermon against prize-fighting and its collateral iniquities. It was a capital sermon, and might have done some good among the prize-fighting community of Riverdale if prizefighters were born with brains.

Poor Tostig was mildly chaffed about his misadventure, but took it in excellent part, and came down to breakfast at the Court next morning in the costume of ordinary mortals. The worst of purple velvet doublets with silver buttons is, that a man must be a millionaire to fill his wardrobe with them.

The polling day was quiet, unheroic, devoid of great events. The Truro Baby was locked up with a broken arm; a score of his followers were locked up with broken heads; and the unconquerable Severne rode through the town triumphant. He was quite delighted at having closed the cruel career of the Cornishman.

The Tories went early to the poll. There are about 7,000 names on the register; and at noon it stoodThe Right Hon. Guy Luttrel, Sir Arthur Willesden, bart.,

And at the close it stoodThe Right Hon. Guy Luttrel, Sir Arthur Willesden, bart.,

THIS is not a political novel. I wish it was. But, to write a political novel, something is requisite beyond being a member of the Carlton or the Reform -ay, or even of Brooks's or White's. Exoteric knowledge is nothing. You must know, but yet must not reveal, those esoteric facts which lie at the basis of all politics and diplomacy. You must know what the world will not know till the statesmen of to-day have been half a century in their graves-if then. How little wisdom governs the world, is an old story.

2,951 2,117

3,478 2.392

What trifles cause all the great events of the world! and how rarely those trifles are known! Now a political novel, to be worth anything, must be written by a man who is thoroughly familiar with the coulisses of politics, yet will not do more than hint at the extent of his knowledge. I cannot do this. I know some things; I guess some things; but there are passages in England's foreign policy, the meaning whereof-although the Times has explained them fully to the meanest intellect-is to me unknow

able, unguessable; and, as I don't live with Lord Palmerston or Lord Derby-as neither Mr. Gladstone nor Mr. Disraeli asks my advice, furnishing me with data for giving it-how am I to write a political novel?

A man who is in love ought, I think, to have nothing else to do. It doesn't last long, and he ought to have a holiday of a month or so to enjoy it. How pitiable the position of the unlucky struggler who, having fallen in love, has to work day and night for months or years to save enough to make marriage a tolerably safe enterprise! This, however, is a trifle; for, by a happy arrangement of Providence, the man whose occupations are sordid soon becomes sordid himself, and as incapable of love-or any other noble human propensityas a cow of mathematics. But take a man with some poetry in him-a man, for example, like our friend Guy Luttrel, capable of thoroughly enjoying and appreciating the erotic magnetism-and imagine the annoyance to him of dealing with meaner things at such a time. Guy was one of those mir men for whom the world is always difficult. A man, to succeed, should be homogeneous. One idea drives a man sheer through all the world's obstacles; but the possessor of many ideas and facuities seldom gets full play for his powers or full enjoyment of his life. Luttrel was in love, and could have made joyous holiday in this Indian summer of his soul. Luttrel was in office; so he had to scorn delights and live laborious days,” and nights still more laborious, to manage the business of his department, give unanswering repies to Parliamentary inquirers, and fight gallantly against the chiefs of the opposition. Luttrel had a daughter deserted by her gouvernante, and this special perplexity demanded his first atter in où returning to London from Riverdale. Now it so happened that an old college friend of his, the holder of a London living, was interested in one of the numberless Ini'es' colleges which are the fashion of the day. Recollecting this, Luttrel called on the Rev. Mr. Ellerslie, told him his difficulty, and asked if he thought the Lady Superintendent of Alexandrina College could recommend a companion for Lily.

haven't time at this moment to make permanent arrangements. I really haven't leisure to think about my marriage."

"On which I must congratulate you," said the parson, "Lady Vivian Ashleigh is a most charming person, I hear."

"She'll do," replied Luttrel, irreverently. "I like her. But do you think your college chieftainess can find what I want I don't want a proctor prude or a sweet girl-graduate, but something medium and moderate."

"Leave it entirely to me. I can easily manage it."

"The child must be Lily Grey still, remember. Don't enlighten anybody. When Easter comes I shall run down and explain the little mystery to her."

Mysteries are mistakes," solemnly said the parson.

"So are sermons. Good-bye. We'll make you a bishop if Cheiron lets us stay in office long enough.”

And away rode Guy to exchange a few words with Lady Vivian before going down to the House.

Lord Cheiron was the great dread of the new Administration. Who does not know Lord Cheiron, who fought with the Lapithe Who does not admire his humour, his pluck, his buoyancy, his love of sport, his horsemanship, his fine appetite, his passion for exercise and work, his hatred for tobacco? But one grief had he--that no young Achilles was growing up under his tuition. He envied his opponents Guy Luttrel, and used often to jocosely advise him to rat.

"You'll never see any life among those old fogies," he was wont to remark. "Better come over to us. Everybody rats now; it's getting respectable, like bankruptcy."

The gay old peer was entering the House as Guy dismounted on the present occasion. They were capital friends in private, though in Parliament regular opponents.

66

Oh, you remember Béranger's song. I hope Margot will have stolen the keys of Paradise by the time I want to enter."

The Rev. Mr. Ellerslie made haste to Alexandrina College, and told the Lady Superintendent what he wanted. Now the dignitary in question, Mrs. Thorogood, possessed a niece. Miss Sophia Thorogood, whom everyone called Sophy, was, I fear, what Byron wickedly styled " a dumpy woman." Short she certainly was; plump, with a rather puffy and shapeless plumpness; round-featured; not slenderankled; with fingers which always had chilblains in winter, and always looked as if they had in summer. Being an orphan, her aunt had striven to educate her for a governess; but she never could learn more than the merest elements of anything; and although her scholastic career had been a long experience of shakings, slappings, knuckle-rappings, backboard torture, bread and water, and other ingenious penal inflictions, Nature had shown herself too strong for the Lady Superintendent, and Sophy at twenty-seven was almost as ignorant as a child of seven. She taught the very young collegians their "scales" and the first four rules of arithmetic (though long division sorely bothered her), and the catechisms of Pinnock; and her aunt relentlessly made her "continue her studies" indeed when Mr. Ellerslie visited the college, poor Sophy was almost crying over "Murray's Grammar." Lindley Murray was her greatest enemy; no exercise of intellect could enable her to distinguish between an adverb and a pronoun.

My description of Sophy will suffice to show the reader that she was just the sort of girl to wear an unusual amplitude of crinoline, to delight in cheap jewellery, and to send her photographs to her friends. She had innumerable friends among the old collegians, and wrote and received countless letters, invariably crossed. The small pocket-money allowed her by her aunt went in postage, photography, and one other expense-cheap literature. She loved novels; but no novels were permitted to enter the sacred precincts of Alexandrina College. She managed, however, to smuggle in the Family Herald, the London Journal, and

two or three other cheap miscellanies. Her highest ambition was to contribute to these delightful periodicals. She had sent one or two tales, which tasteless editors had rejected: indeed her only success had been in a matrimonial correspondence through the "Notices to Correspondents" of some halfpenny journal. Her description of herself had attracted several gentlemen, among whom her ideal was "Algernon Stuart, six feet high, twenty-five years old, and very handsome." But so rigid were the rules of Alexandrina College about letters received, that Sophy saw no way of getting into a correspondence with this Adonis.

If a bishop may occasionally be a nepotist, why not a schoolmistress? It naturally occurred to Mrs. Thorogood that the munificent salary of a hundred a year, with board and lodging, ought not to go out of the family. Had there been anything to teach, she was much too conscientious to have recommended Sophy; but there was nothing. Miss Grey wanted only a companion. Sophy was very steady," she reflected, in happy ignorance of the penny and halfpenny miscellanies and of Mr. Algernon Stuart. So she named her niece to Mr. Ellerslie; and the clergyman, having the fullest confidence in the Lady Superintendent, was quite satisfied; and thus Miss Sophia Thorogood was installed at Cedar Cottage as Lily's companion.

Guy was unable to see anything of his daughter or her duenna till Easter, which came late in April. Then, one delicious morning, when a mist of green was on the limes, and the larks seemed mad with joy, and the cuckoo's "minor third" came from mysterious hollows of the air, and the great green water-lily buds were basking on the bosom of Thames, he told Lady Vivian he should go to Cedar Cottage.

"I'll go, too," she said. "We can be back to dine with papa at eight."

So she gathered together a few trifles a new poem, a choice volume of engravings, a trinket or twowherewith to gladden the eyes of her future daughter.

"I have often wondered what your Lily is like," she said, as they saw the Thames beneath them at Maidenhead; "and now we shall see."