the cankering anxieties caused by the bitter spirits of those turbulent men of the Commons!" "Save your Majesty!" answered Richard Shuckborough, with a comic look of confusion, “*I had not just now been following the hounds with so little thought, had I known that the armies of your Majesty were so near bringing matters to an issue with the troops of those same angry spirits, for they lie at Ceinton, and you will hardly avoid a blow with them to-morrow; but, and it please your Majesty to spare me now, I will go home and rouse my tenantry, for I should mightily like to share in the sport of cracking the sconces of these rascally Roundheads!" "Give ye good day, then, gallant Master Shuckborough!" answered the king, "betake thyself at once, an it please thee, to the task of arming thy tenants; our forces are not too numerous to make needless a few more honest hearts and heavy hands!" As Charles spoke thus, he waved his hand to the worthy gentleman, and set forward with his army. That night the king, with some of the principal lords and gentlemen of his train, slept at Aston Hall, a venerable mansion, the seat of Sir Thomas Holt, a gallant country gentleman, devoted heart and hand to the royal cause. (To be continued.) a A MONK-EMPEROR OF GERMANY. BEAUTIFUL story is told of S. Henry, the second Emperor of that name, of Germany, away back in olden Catholic times-the eleventh century. Being a most holy man, and becoming desirous to lead more perfect life than he conceived was possible in the distractions of a Court, he resolved, like many another Catholic King and some Sovereign Pontiffs, to leave his throne and bury himself in a monastery. Repairing secretly to the religious house of S. Vannes in Verdun, he begged admission as a postulant. Abbot Richard solemnly assembled all his monks in Chapter, and calling the royal applicant before him, demanded in a tone of authority: "Are you ready to obey even until death?" "I am ;' answered Henry. "And I hereby receive you," answered the abbot, "into the number of my religious. I will answer for the salvation of your soul if you promise to fulfil all I enjoin upon you" 64 "I swear obedience," interrupted the king. 'Then," rejoined the abbot, "it is my will that you resume the government of the German Empire!" We know the sequel of this story. S. Henry, however, is not the only royal monk or religious man put at the head of the Christian Kingdoms in the ages of faith in every land. Most of the present kingdoms of Europe were at one time or other, offered as fief to the grand suzerain of Christendom, the Pope of Rome, kings thinking it an honour to be counted among the vassals of the Father of Christians and Vicar of God. THE CHANNEL TUNNEL, N the new number of the "Nineteenth Century" there is an interesting article on "The Proposed Channel Tunnel," and its value is not diminished by the circumstance that it is written in a temperate and reasonable spirit, and sets forth with perfect candour the arguments on both sides of the question. Though the final conclusion of the writer is that the construction of the Tunnel is to be deprecated on military, and therefore on patriotic grounds, no illegitimate appeal is made to purely sentimental considerations, and we are spared that extravagantly alarmist note which is all that too many persons contribute to the controversy. The name of Lord Dunsany is appended to the paper; but though the gallant admiral contributes some independent observations of his own from a naval point of view, he intimates that they are little more than an accompaniment or setting to the memorandum of a "Distinguished General Officer" whom our readers will hardly be wrong in surmising to be the future Adjutant General. As might have been expected, Sir Garnet Wolseley is not insensible to the attraction which the scheme of a Submarine Tunnel between England and France has for the public in these days of commercial enterprise, of scientific experiment, and of international fraternity. Any one who has travelled even once between London and Paris, in a smali way, may observe the inconveniences which commerce has to endure in consequence of the break in the journey caused by the intervention of the Channel. Unhappily, too, human beings have to undergo a form of torture to which "goods are insensible," and the horrors of seasickness are frequently added to the irritation caused by transhipment of boxes and portmanteaus, by the transfer of passengers from train to steam boat, and then back again from steam boat to train. Moreover, insularity in these days is a sort of opprobrium, and Englishmen have long desired to rid themselves of a reproach of which they were once ridiculously proud. Not only, said Madame de Stael, as Sir Garnet Wolseley reminds us, is England surrounded by the sea, but every Englishman is a sort of island. Whether the construction of a submarine Tunnel would finally dispose of this peculiarity it might be hazardous to prophesy. But, at any rate, the imagination of Englishmen would be greatly stimulated by the consciousness that, though the coasts of England and France were still ostensibly as far apart as ever, a road under the sea connected them, and that we were at last "moored" at least to the Continent of Europe. This is an agreeable picture; and if the Channel Tunnel, besides making travelling pleasanter, cheaper, and more expeditious would hasten the arrival of the reign of universal fraternity, it is evident that it comes before us with very strong credentials. But even these allegations are not allowed to pass without challenge; and there stands in the background a distinct and special objection, of which these pleasant anticipations take no cognizance. That the odious inconvenience of seasickness would be abolished, and that more people and more traffic would pass between England and France, is not denied. But ask the advocates on the other side, is it the fact that nations love each other for seeing more of each other, or for trading with each other more extensively? The matter is certainly open to controversy; and though no one would suggest that our relations with France would be less friendly in consequence of the construction of a tunnel between Calais and Dover, it may fairly be doubted whether they would experience any tangible improvement. be two hundred feet below the level of the sea; that therefore a mine must be prepared beforehand, and must always be charged if it is to be ready for use when it comes to be wanted; that galvanic wires sometimes refuse to act, and that the power, or dynamite, or whatever explosive was employed, might get damp or be rendered useless by some chemical or mechanical cause; that there have been instances in the history of mankind of sudden and unannounced seizures, made in open violation of international law, the temptation to commit these being in proportion to the value of the prize; that in moments of great gravity the coolest persons have been known to lose their heads, and the most perfectly organised precautions to fail; and that if any of these contingencies were to happen, the fate of our Empire would be sealed. No one would assert that these are altogether extravagant suggestions. Regard for public law and public morality is not on the increase; and Sir Garnet Wolseley asks, "where in the history of the world, from the earliest time down to the tearing up of the Black Sea clauses in the Treaty of Paris, or when Khiva was made Russian, or when Tunis was added to the African possessions of France, do we hear of treaties or solemn engagements being respected by the nation who had an interest in breaking them, and who felt itself strong enough to do so?" At the same time, we fancy most persons will be disposed to regard the chance of the Channel Tunnel being turned against us as comparatively slight. No doubt, it might occur; and the real question to be decided is whether it is worth while to run the very smallest risk where the stake is so enormous? The writer sums up his argument pithily in the following sentences: Now, say the opponents of the scheme, it is incumbent on its supporters to demonstrate that some very positive advantage will accrue from the execution of the project if the main objection to it is to be overruled. The nature of the objection is, as we have said, strictly military, and it is urged by Sir Garnet Wolseley with considerable force. If the Channel Tunnel were in existence, it would then be open to an enemy to seize the Dover end, and, having seized it, to pour a sufficient number of troops across the Channel, to throw up earthworks and maintain themselves there until an entire army followed and obtained possession of the country. Obviously, if two or three thousand troops did seize the Dover end of the Tunnel, did entrench themselves, and were not dislodged from that position whilst trains from Calais kept bringing_detachment after detachment of soldiers from France, we should find ourselves in a very serious predicament. The writer of the article contends that, "To land such a body of men any dark night during calm weather in Dover Harbour would be an easy operation; or why should they not be sent through the Tunnel The Tunnel in the hands of a foreign nation itself without warning? Every one who knows means that our fleet could no longer help towards how affairs are conducted in England will readily our protection; its role of being our first line of admit that the position of the mines intended for defence would cease, and we could alone look for the destruction of the Tunnel or for otherwise safety to a large army equal to that which France destroying it, would be known in the head-quarter could place in the field; and such an army could staff office of every great military power. To only be provided by the industry-crushing system keep such matters secret in commercially of universal service. Those who dread the governed England would be simply impossible. construction of the Tunnel ask, "is the nation The enemy, therefore, who seizes our end of the prepared to pay such a price in order that we may Tunnel will be masters of it; and as we are told be able to visit the Continent without suffering that trains can easily run the distance between from sea-sickness?" France and England in half an hour, and that, as there are to be two lines of rails in the Tunnel, trains can follow one another safely at intervals of five or six minutes, before morning broke, 20,000 infantry might easily, having come through the Tunnel, be in possession of Dover. This may be considered a visionary scheme, but it is just such a one that so often succeeds, its very boldness and daring being elements strongly in its favour. It would be the affair of a dashing partisan leader, and is a small one compared with the great military operation involved in the invasion of England. Few wars have ever occurred in which an equally daring enterprise has not been attempted; and where in the world's history has there ever been before such a reward, such a bait, as the possession of London, the conquest of England, held out to the successful adventurer?" It is further pointed out that the Tunnel is to 66 whole CHEERFUL HOMES.--Towards the cheerful home the children gather as clouds and as doves to their windows," while from the home which is the abode of discontent and strife and trouble, they fly forth as vultures A single bitter word to rend their prey. may disquiet an entire family for a day; one frowning glance cast a gloom over the household; while a smile, like a gleam of sunshine, may light up the darkest and hours. Like weariest unexpected flowers, which spring up along our path, full of freshness, fragrance and beauty, so do kind words and gentle acts and sweet dispositions make glad the home where peace and blessing dwell. No matter how humble the abode, it will be the dearest spot beneath the circuit of the sun. THE BROTHERS; OR, TRUTH made no inquiry into the tender relations which CHAPTER X.-(Continued.) T was not until Mrs. Blumengarten had begun to read Arthur's letter, that she understood the exact state of affairs. At the first words, "My own darling Gertrude " the mother raised her eyes towards her daughter, who was regarding her in anxious silence. Before that calm enquiring gaze, Gertrude's eyes fell, and her face became suffused with a vivid colour. Without a word of comment, Mrs. Blumengarten read the letter thoughtfully through. Having concluded, she said quietly: "This is the most injured man I have ever been acquainted with "I was sure-I felt certain you must say so!" exclaimed Gertrude in sudden joy. A little further conversation assured the mother that the only thing to bring to her daughter's mind a full conviction of the utter unworthiness of the object of her affections was-as she had judged previously-a proof plain as ocular demonstration. A sudden thought, probably prompted by the keen instinct of maternal love, now fully aroused by the sight of her daughter's evident suffering, pointed out to Mrs. Blumengarten her best course of action. "You know Lizzy's aunt, of course," she said. "She was formerly Mr. Lovelady's housekeeper. Her father was a government clerk in Somerset House. Although now in such reduced circumstances, she is trustworthy and reliable in every way. What would be the value of her word to you concerning this painful scene of last Saturday night?" Gertrude shivered slightly as she thought of last Saturday-her day of joy and hope, but followed by a night so threatening and dark. She answered, but with evident reluctance: "Miss Hawthorne's word would be sufficient; I remember how attached she seemed to be to Mr. Lovelady's children, indeed as fond of them as if they were her own." "Very well, my dear," said Mrs. Blumengarten rising. "You shall have her evidence, if I can induce her to speak. And if Lizzy's story be true, you will have something more than her aunt's mere word. I only go to return." Gertrude drew a deep breath as her mother left the room. This painful suspense, full of fear and hope and doubt and self-torture would soon be ended; and she trembled as she asked herself, how? She wondered, too, that her mother had she now knew existed between her daughter and Arthur Lovelady. On the way downstairs Mrs. Blumengarten met her husband. "Go up to Gertrude and try to cheer her a little until my return," she said. "You will find her in much need of sympathy just now." "Then you were right in your suspicions?" he observed, enquiringly. "They are fully confirmed," she replied. 'May I ask where you are going, Gertrude?" he said. "To find the proof I spoke of," she replied. "I have not attempted to argue the matter with Gertrude. It will be wiser, I think, to convince her by placing the naked truth before her eyes." Mr. Blumengarten found his daughter melancholy and drooping. Upon his entrance she looked up for a moment, and greeted him with a smile that almost made him shiver. "Mein Gott!" he muttered, as he took his place near the open window, through which the odours of roses and mignionette mingled with the melodies of birds, were flowing in sweetly. A pretty canary-Gertrude's pet-was perched on a holly bough fixed upon the top of his cage in the room, and singing with an energy which only a spirit of emulation could inspire. "What a delightful little fellow he is," observed Mr. Blumengarten, with the idea of withdrawing his daughter from her melancholy musings. One of nature's musicians, and perfect in his way. Eh! Gertrude?" His daughter raised her head for a moment, and replied absently: "I do not know, but she was only going to return." "Your Another short pause and he said: brushes are beginning to forget you, my dear. When are you going to finish the Christian Martyr, that "Oh! don't, papa, please," said Gertrude plaintively, and an expression of sudden pain shot across her upturned face. The Christian Martyr referred to was a splendid oil painting, now hanging on the wall before Mr. Blumengarten. It was a great favourite with his daughter, on account perhaps of the striking likeness to herself presented in the stately Presence of the serene Witness, who ap peared with golden hair, shining brow, and starry eyes of upturned blue, in the midst of the Roman arena, and encircled by wild beasts, while from the crowded galleries above gleamed the fierce eyes of even more savage men. Arthur Lovelady had discovered Gertrude's sympathy with the heroine of the painted story. He accordingly begged the young lady to execute a copy for him. He guessed that this would draw them more closely together. It was to this half-finished copy that Mr. Blumengarten had referred, to his daughter's evident annoyance. "Himmel!" he muttered, "I have blundered, it seems. After a little, he again spoke, "What a headache you must have, my pet," he said soothingly. "A little airing will do you all the good in the world. When your mother returns, we shall take a drive round the park. There is to be another grand cricket match there to-day, and as you take great pleasure in witnessing such sport "Oh! papa dear, you are torturing me without knowing it," cried Gertrude tearfully. "Der Tuefel!" he muttered. "I am getting to my ears in the mud; and very long ears they feel too, just now. I must try to remember that silence is golden. My poor liebling! I wish Gertrude would come.' In due time his wife did come, accompanied by a tall figure closely veiled. Mr. Blumengarten merely bowing to the new-comer, made a quiet retreat, vowing to himself that it would be some time before he again undertook the delicate task of comforter to the unintelligible sex. Mrs. Blumengarten advanced towards her daughter, who had risen with a beating heart and eyes fixed anxiously upon the stranger. "This is Miss Hawthorne," said Mrs. Blumengarten, indicating the visitor by an gesture. "She is come with me to see you, Gertrude. She has also kindly consented to tell you all you can wish to know." easy Gertrude bowed, and then remained still silent, and painfully expectant. Miss Hawthorne saluted the young lady with marke respect. In raising her head again she cast back her veil, revealing a face, the sight of which made Miss Blumengarten shudder. In these lineaments, still black battered and swollen, she hardly recognized the mild countenance of the kind woman she had known and regarded favourably since childhood. "And I nursed him!" murmured the abused gentle creature in plaintive tones, as the tears gushed from the bloodshot eyes, and poured down the discoloured cheeks. She then quickly but nervously replaced the veil. "If you will kindly come to my room now, Miss Hawthorne, you can see your niece, whose services, I may say, I value highly. My daughter will be better able to tell you, another time perhaps, how deeply she is touched by what she has just witnessed.' Gertrude thus reminded, turned to the visitor and said in earnest hurried tones: "Believe me, Miss Hawthorne, I sympathise with you more deeply than you can understand." The visitor bowed and went out with Mrs. Blumengarten, who turned at the door and said to her daughter: "I shall see you again, my dear, by and bye.” When the mother returned after a little time, it was to be startled and alarmed to behold her daughter reclining upon a couch, in a state of insensibility; her face white as a snow wreath, and a tear still glistening upon the pale beautiful cheek. The sun was shining in at the casement, and the pretty canary was singing joyously, as if darkness or sorrow could never enter there, to disturb one pulse of poor human nature. CHAPTER XI. DISAPPOINTMENT. Two months have passed away, and we are in the beginning of genial September. Mr. Blumengarten and his family (attended by Lizzy Natter who is as high in Gertrude's favour as ever), have spent the interval in the Isle of Wight, where they a formed a pleasant little party, during various excusions and junketings, with Mr. Lovelady and his daughter. The latter, while enjoying the annual relaxation, have been paying a visit to the merchant's invalid sister at Ventnor, where they were finally joined by Albert, accompanied by a valued friend picked up in Paris. All returned to Liverpool together a few days ago. Gertrude exhibits little outward sign of her late disappointment, except perhaps that in the eyes of her watchful and anxious parents she is more thoughtful-looking and silent, more grave than has been her wont. Calm, composed, kinder if possible than ever to all around her, there is still wanting much of the colouring which is the charm of youth. The bright gilding on the happy face, the spontaneous gladness of look and airiness of bearing,the gay interest in the things of life which distinguished her, are subdued to a degree that excites the secret wonder of Emily. No one except her parents can guess how recently and rudely the flower of that young heart has been trampled upon. Even Lizzy Natter's jealous eye does not attribute the thoughtful gravity of her mistress to its real cause, although a suspicion may sometimes creep into her mind, but only to be at once dismissed. Arthur Lovelady's name is never mentioned now. Hereditary pride and high-minded resolve have assisted Miss Blumengarten to tread with tranquil brow and untroubled eye upon the thorns that had been planted in her path; and thorns lay still before her, but the firm feet would not shrink. Nor sigh, nor tear revealed now, even to her mother, what Gertrude's wounded heart-perhaps her haunted the sleeping sea, but who may tell what wars are pillow-remember still. Sunshine may rest upon hourly waged in its mute depths. And so it was with Miss Blumengarten. The closet had been locked by a determined hand, but the skeleton was in it still. Arthur Lovelady was too well connected, and too highly valued as a business man to experience much difficulty in obtaining a good appointment in Liverpool. During his hours of evening leisure, he is now waging an inglorious war in the gambling resorts and drinking saloons of the town, instead of seeking that " peace for his troubled spirit upon some battle-field of the far west," of which he had spoken so pathetically in Sefton Park to Miss Blumengarten. It is a beautiful evening in early September. "It is to be hoped that his somewhat delicate paleness has been left in perpetual exile," replied Gertrude. "But his travelling companion-this Mr. de Vaillance, is he not the lively boy I saw at your house a few months ago?" tone. "Only a boy!" said Emily, in an indescribable She suddenly began peeping into a bell of foxglove, for a late bee, perhaps. "Would you prefer my saying a baby and a kitten in one?" asked Gertrude with a smile. "Oh! Gertrude.' "Because he appeared to me to be as innocent as the one and as playful as the other," said Miss Blumengarten. Emily turned a bright face, but somewhat shyly, towards her friend while observing: "Albert told me that he was moping himself to death when he fortunately met Mr. de Vaillance in Paris. The vapours soon disappeared, and Albert became like a lark, until his return." "I do not wonder," said Gertrude. "Mr. de Vaillance's airy spirits and sympathetic manner are quite infectious." "His airy spirits have disappeared since his return to town," observed Emily pensively. Gertrude looked inquiringly at her friend for some moments. "Ah!" she said, suddenly; "he was in deep mourning at church yesterday. He has received sad news, then?" "Yes," said Emily, with a sigh; "very sad news from home." "He is an American, I believe," observed Gertrude. 'He has probably lost some dear friend in this terrible civil war now going on in the west, and ——” She turned away her head, and an irrepressible wave of colour swept across her face, as the thought of Arthur Lovelady swept across her mind. Emily was too busy with her own thoughts to observe the transient emotion of her friend. "You know," she said in a low tone, "his father sent him over here three years ago-he was only sixteen then-to be out of the way of that terrible war then about to break out. And Mr. de Vaillance received positive orders to remain in England during his father's pleasure. He was placed in our counting-house under papa's care. And Albert told me that although he was burning to join his friends, he would not dare to disobey his father's orders." Gertrude remembered another son who had verbally revered his father. "It would not be difficult to play the caged lion under such circumstances," she said in a voice that caused Emily to look up quickly. "It is not necessary," returned Emily, sadly. "Colonel de Vaillance and his gallant sons have gone down in the storm." "Poor young man!" said Gertrude, But now?" "Mr. de Vaillance is now going home," rejoined Emily, in a low voice, "to fire a last shot with his father's last friends, before the South is entirely in the dust." Gertrude's eyes shone, but only for a moment. There was a touch of scorn in her tone as she observed: "But all will be over before he arrives there. He will probably consult his leisure in going. But then he is only a boy yet." There was a slight shade of annoyance on Emily's Madonna-like face, as she rejoined: 'He received this sad news only on last Friday." "It came too soon," returned Gertrude, gravely. "And on Saturday," continued Emily. "he secured his passage on a steamer which sails towards the end of this week." "Not a word." "Yet you know it?" 'He took Albert into his confidence and so I came to know," replied Emily. "And I fear very much that my brother may be tempted to join him." "Do not annoy yourself with such an idle fear, my dear Emily," said Gertrude with a smile that was almost disdainful. "Mr. Albert is too wisely prudent to risk his valuable life in a foreign quarrel." "I am not so sure of that," returned Emily, with an anxious brow. "Albert seemed very restless before he went away on his holidays. He has been stranger than ever since our return, a week ago. Papa says he cannot attend to business as he used to do. We cannot make him out at all. He has not the appetite of a bird. And I know he has slept little lately, for his room is just over mine. I am sure he is greatly disturbed about something. But then be is so silent and reserved, there is not a word to be got from him. I sometimes fear that his mind is going wrong. It makes me tremble to think of it." "You need not trouble, my dear," said Gertrude, quietly. "Your brother is too calmly sensible to be affected in such a way. He will make a most sedate and business-like man, I have no doubt." |