Nobody much likes any chaff about his name. I did not at first quite relish my young friend's remarks, but I soon saw there was some sense in them. I had indeed, for many reasons, determined on changing my name in some way, and this slight alteration would do as well as any other. So I went through the provinces as Emanuel Temple, and I have never since been publicly known by any other name.

CHAPTER X.

I MAKE A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.

"Shall I refer it to him ?" said the male voice again.

"I really don't care," replied the girl, "whom you refer it to; I've told you the price and the quality, that's all."

I looked round, and saw that there was seated on a chair at my left a short, stout, wellpreserved elderly personage, with black, beady, twinkling eyes, shining white teeth, a rubicund complexion, and a black wig. His opened lips had a full, sensuous expression, and there was a dash of something in his whole face which vaguely spoke of cruelty, or marked eccentricity, or something else that is out of the commonplace character of the everyday Briton. There was an odd, indefinable mixture about his appearance and manner of the broken-down gentleman and the artist. I should say that he was probably a naturalized Bohemian-one not born among the gipsies, but who perhaps had strayed into their encampments in early life, or got changed at nurse. His uncommon appearance and queer ways struck me at once. observed that his hands were small, fat, and beautifully white.

I

SOME few weeks of professional wandering among chilling audiences in country towns, meeting with tolerable success in most places, brought me to Dover, and the first glimpse of the sea I had enjoyed for years. I felt boyish again at the sight of my old confidant; and the shining track of the moon across the water seemed to mark out a bright path back to the delightful dream-land, the far-off, fading Island | of the Blest, with its "light of ineffable faces," whither my boyhood and my first love were banished, the one seemingly as much lost to me as "Then we refer the case to arbitration," the other. Not for years had I thought so bit- complacently remarked this personage; and, terly, so passionately, of Christina as during my still remaining in his chair, he touched his short stay in Dover by the sea. And yet she hat very graciously to me, and with a wave seemed to me almost like a creature in a dream of his hand invited my attention. "We have -like some beautiful spirit-love, which had de- had a dispute, Sir, I and this young lady-her scended upon me while I lay in ecstatic delirium, name is Fanny; I address her by her name beand faded with my waking. I can almost be- cause we are old acquaintances; I have been lieve the stories of men who have fallen madly here twice, I think-touching the quality of in love with the daughters of dreams, and pined these cigars. She declares them to be prime and sickened away their lives in longing after Havanas, and has the conscience to ask eightthe unreal, and were glad to die, that they pence each. I represent them to be rather inmight be relieved of the vain tormenting wish. ferior Veveys, and suggest one penny each, or I pass, however, from recalling these purely seven for sixpence. On these terms I am willpersonal and egotistical recollections to the sub-ing to treat for one shilling's worth. I tell her ject which I meant to speak of when I recurred frankly it is no use trying to deceive me. I to my visit to Dover. An accidental meeting have been to Havana, and I have only just there threw me in the way of making an odd come back from Switzerland; and I remark acquaintanceship, which had no little influence to her that I rather think I saw the light at afterward on one part at least of my fortunes, least a year or two before she did, and that, and those of two distinct and divided sets of generally speaking, I have not knocked about persons, whose histories make indirectly a chap- the world for nothing. She refuses to admit ter of mine. the force of these arguments. Fortunately you have come just in time to arbitrate. You seem to me a man who ought to know tobacco from dock-leaves and brown paper. Come, then, how say you-Havana or Vevey ?"

One evening, after I had sung at a concert and been somewhat applauded, I went to have my customary stroll by the sea. I turned into a cigar-shop in one of the steep, stony, narrow little streets, chiefly made up of oyster-shops and public houses, which alone are astir in Dover after nightfall. I asked for a cigar, hardly observing that somebody else was being served with something by the young woman who stood behind the counter.

"Glad he's come in!" said a full mellow male voice; "very glad. He'll decide; he looks a sort of person who ought to know."

It did not occur to me that this could well have any reference to myself, and so I asked again for a cigar. I noticed then that the girl was flushed in the face, and was biting her lips, half amused and half angry.

"I am afraid I must decline to arbitrate. I have not been to Havana."

"But you are not a Dover man? You don't belong to this confounded dirty, disgraceful little place? Don't tell me."

"No, I am not a Dover man."

"Of course not; I knew it.-You see, Fanny, it's no use trying to deceive me. Take example, sweet girl."

The sweet girl only tossed her head and looked remarkably sour.

"If you're not going to 'ave the cigars," she said, “I just wish you'd put them down, and not bother."

"Fanny, you rush to conclusions with the | farewell, my Fanny; perchance I may revisit impetuosity of your sex. It must be some- thee no more. I take these six-Havanas we'll thing, I fancy, in the nature of petticoats that call them-at your own valuation. This genmakes the wearers of them so quick in their tleman and I are too much pressed for time to conclusions. No, Fanny, I shall not put the enter on the business of an arbitration now; cigars down, because I do mean to ''ave them,' and besides, I don't think I could trust himas you express it, with the delicious disregard for he is young, Fanny, and inexperienced-to of aspirates peculiar to our common country. I arbitrate between me and so pretty a girl as mean to ''ave them' and to pay for them, fair yourself. Between man and man is easy arbibeing, even at your own price; but I am anx-tration, Fanny; but between man and woman ious to convince you that, though you may ex- is trying work. Six cigars at eightpence each; tort my money-" six times eight, forty-eight-four shillings. The "Extort, indeed! I don't care, I'm sure, roof does not fall in, Fanny! I perceive that

if you 'ave them or don't 'ave them."

"Ave them or don't 'ave them.' Innocent accents! As I was observing when I was interrupted-pray don't go, Sir, one moment-I want to convince you that you can not cheat me, or confound my sense of justice. You may fret me, but you can not play upon me. I am only for justice. All my life through I have stood up for justice, and I never could get it. The whole world and his wife were against me, may God curse them all!-Look here, Sir!" And he jumped off his seat, and came close up to me, throwing his hat back off his forehead as he did so, and much disarranging his wig meantime. "Have you ever been conspired against, and hated ?"

"No, I think not; I don't know at least; and pardon me if I say I don't much care.'

"And do you think I care. Not I. They have done their best for years, and I have stood out against them, and defied them, and bade them go to the devil; and just because they wouldn't go, and wanted me very particularly not to go either, I did my utmost to go there as fast as possible."

"Which I do believe you're going,” muttered the girl, with a glance at me.

"I am a victim, Sir, to my sense of justice, and my determination not to be conquered. I left England when they wanted me to stay here; I come back now because I know they want me away. I'll spoil their game. There are people would rather see all the Beelzebubs and Molochs and Asmodeuses, and the rest of them, than me. Therefore I come. Confound their politics; frustrate their knavish tricks!' Good-evening, Sir. Or, stay, are you walking my way, and will you permit me to walk a little with you?"

Fare

the Powers above have no intention of interfer-
ing to punish or prevent fraud; and I have only
to pay. There are the four shillings.
well, Fanny; repent, and remember me!-
Now, then, Sir, at your service."

I followed my whimsical acquaintance. I observed that all his clothes were of foreign cut and fashion, and looked rather decaying. Indeed, he might have been taken for a shabby old Frenchman who had once been in good society, but for his voice and accent. These were unmistakably English. His voice was peculiarly sweet, full, and mellow, and its natural intonation when he dropped the manner of roistering buffoonery, which seemed to me purposely put on, was decidedly that of an educated English gentleman.

"That's a pretty little devil," remarked my friend as we emerged from a dark street suddenly into the moonlight of the quay.

"The girl in the shop?"

"As if you didn't know at once whom I meant! Of course the girl in the shop-I dare say you'll be found dropping in upon her again." "Not likely at all."

"Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying! Don't be offended, Sir; I have only been quoting Jack Falstaff.”

"I know, and I am not offended."

"Thanks; I begin to think you are rather a good sort of fellow in your way, and I only offend people I don't like. But you know very well, you sly rogue, you'll be looking in upon little Fanny again. I saw telegraphic glances passing between you."

"I don't care one rush ever to see her again, and I don't mean to."

"How odd! They tell me young fellows in England are greatly changed since my time. Apparently so. When I was your age I should have liked to see such a girl more than once. Even now, I can assure you, I am a martyr, a positive martyr, to my general affection for the petticoat. But look there! God! how can a man talk of petticoats, and such fribbles and frou-frou, when he has a sight like that before him ?"

I was about to decline very firmly the proffered companionship, but a supplicating look from poor Fanny seemed to beg of me to take him out of her way, wheresoever he might then desire to go. So I was pleased to be able to oblige the perplexed lass, who seemed half talked to death already; and it really did not much matter to me whether I endured my new acquaintance's company for a few minutes lon- He pointed to the sea. We had reached a ger or got rid of him at once. So I expressed part of the road from which you looked, on the myself as quite delighted to have the pleasure one hand, at the grand old castle and the white of his company, and I was thanked by a glance cliffs; on the other, out across the waves, whereof gratitude from under Fanny's eyelids. on the soft moonlight of late summer seemed "Good-night, then, Fanny. Farewell, a long floating. The muffled, gentle thunder of the

waters rolling languidly and heavily on the strand was in our ears; the scent of the salt sea in our nostrils; the summer air all around us; the moon and the sea before our eyes. It was indeed a scene to refine even vulgarity, to solemnize frivolity.

My friend took off his hat, and stood gazing on the sea. Presently I heard him murmur, in his deep soft tones:

"For I have loved, O Lord, the beauty of thy house, and the place where thine honor dwelleth."

He presently turned to me:

"Do you think it will avail a man hereafter to plead that he has loved the beauty of His house?"

"Surely, surely; at least I hope so."

"Then you are an artist." This was said in the tone of one who has suddenly made a gratifying discovery.

"Yes, they. What is it to you who they are, or what their accursed names are ?"

"I assure you, I don't want to know at all." "They? I'll tell you who they are. The Pharisees, the publicans, the respectable hypocrites, the cold, confounded, bloodless, sinless devils. Look here, and answer me truly-did you ever do a virtuous action?"

"Really, that depends-"

"No, it doesn't; it depends on nothing.

"Well, a sort of artist; at least not wholly Did you ever do any thing that was really virwithout some kind of artistic taste.".

"You believe in beauty, don't you? Now, don't give me any vague commonplace answer -I hate cant and parroting of any kind. If you don't believe in it, or if you don't quite know what I mean when I ask you the question, then say you don't, and let there be an end of it. A man may be a devilish good fellow although he has no more soul for beauty than that rock yonder; and let me tell you a man may be a devilish bad fellow, and guilty of pretty well every sin that ever came in his way, although he is open at every pore to the contagion of beauty wherever it shows itself, in a wave or a moonbeam or a woman's bosom. The thing is, do you believe in beauty? Because, if not, we had better walk on, and talk about oysters and cigars."

I never was fluent with confessions of faith on the spur of the moment; and I was not quite clear about the perfect sanity of my companion. However, I answered quite truly that I thought I might describe myself as, in his sense, a believer in beauty.

"Good-we are companions. Now, then, let us look at that scene for a little, and, like a good fellow, don't keep talking all the while." (I had not uttered six sentences thus far during our walk.) "Such a sight must be enjoyed in silence. It is holy; yes, damn me, but it is." After this pious affirmation he relapsed into silence-only, however, for a few minutes.

tuous and self-denying, that you would much rather not have done, but did because virtuous people asked you to do it? Any thing of that sort have you ever done?"

"Well, if you press me for an answer, I must say I don't believe I ever did."

"Of course you never did. Well, I did once! You'll not catch me doing such a thing again, I can tell you; it played the devil with me. I've done and I had done before thatabout every foolish and bad thing a man could do; but I might have been forgiven every thing except the one sacrifice to virtue. And it was such a sacrifice! If you only knew! No mat

"Good. I am going to live there too-unless I happen to starve there for a while. I have a few coins left. I should think a week of very rigid economy would play them out, and Heaven knows into what company of thieves I may fall meantime."

Something prompted me to say, with more emphasis than if the words were merely formal, "I hope we may meet in London."

He laughed a short laugh.

66

"I have been an artist," he said; "at least I tried to paint pictures. I think they were very good, but they didn't come to any thing; in fact, with me nothing comes to any thing. I "Well," he said, "I hope so too; but if, as was brought up to be a gentleman, and that the final result of our meeting, you are particudidn't prosper much with me. I've been a bal-larly glad of the acquaintance, I think you'll be lad-singer-fact! give you my word on it. I've sung in London squares, outside the windows of houses where I've many a time dined; and they've sent out the confounded flunky to tell me to move on. True, every word of it!" And he burst into a loud peal of laughter which waked the echoes of the cliffs, and sounded like

about the first that ever had occasion to express such a sentiment. And yet I love mankind; and I really don't try to do harm to any body, except to some very, very near and dear relatives.-I suppose London stands where it did, and is much the same as usual?"

"Just as it was so long as I can remember it."

"I thought so. All the young men wise, | of Virgil's rustics, if you only knew your own and all the young women virtuous. All the good luck. The best thing that can happen to marriages made in heaven, and all husbands you is never to see her again; and to keep up devoted to their wives. All brothers, of course, living together in love and harmony. A blessed place! Naturally just the place for me: so I am going there. I have not been there for years; but I am glad to hear that its beatific condition remains still unaltered."