his seat in the height of his excitement, and shouting, 'Bravo! Encore!' at the top of his voice.

Otto bent forward, his eyes riveted upon the lovely blushing face of the girl, whose quivering lip and heaving bosom showed plainly that she was unused to plaudits such as she now received.

An effort was made to have the song repeated; but the orchestra and the people on the stage were only able to get through the few remaining sentences and the final chorus in a mechanical dazed kind of way, and the curtain fell.

. Ernest Lawford and his friend put the ladies into the carriage, themselves remaining behind to try and find out the reason of that strange apparition which had taken every one so completely by surprise.

I must go to the stage-door,' Otto had said, in a burst of confidence to Mrs. Lawford. 'I must speak face to face with that lady. Her father and mine were boys together.'

With such a reason as that, it was impossible to question the propriety of the step. Mrs. Lawford's anxiety on Ernest's account was at an end. She did not even try to persuade him to return home on the box of the carriage, but drove off to discuss this strange event with the girls.

Immediately upon the fall of the curtain every one on the stage had clustered about Thekla, and it seemed to her that a worse ordeal than what she had already undergone was before her. One lady from the chorus attacked her with greater vigour than any one else, declaring that it was an infamous trick, and that she did not believe Thekla was only a dresser. She herself was first under-study for Mdlle. Bianca ; and if the prima donna had been

taken ill, she ought to have had the credit of filling her place.'

'I could not tell that,' said Thekla, meekly but with dignity. I did not know what to do, the time was getting so near. The dress was there, and I thought I could wear it well enough; and I knew the music by heart. I am sorry, very sorry.'

'Never mind, my dear,' said the acting manager kindly; 'you did it capitally. No one can say you are to blame. If Mdlle.. Bianca is not offended, no one else has any right to scold you.'

'She is not in a state of mind to be offended. If you will come and see her, you will decide that. she was quite unfit to play,' said Thekla.

Ernest and Otto had won their way somehow or other on to the stage; and as Thekla turned from the crowd to go back to Bianca's dressing-roo.n, she perceived them.

Nothing could much surprise her just then. She looked at her German friend for one moment, and then put out her hand with a glad smile, and greeted him in their own language.

6

Why did I was a chance

And what a

'O Fräulein! how awfully unfair,' cried Ernest. never know there of seeing you act? shame to jabber in a foreign tongue! This fellow speaks English as well as you and I do.'

But the lights were being put out, and Thekla remembered that she bad to take off Bianca's velvet robes and jewels, and pack them away for their rightful owner. She was followed up-stairs by the stage-manager, prompter, and several of the company; and on arriving at Bianca's room, the explanation they had received was verified.

There sit the unfortunate woman, still arrayed in the pink

suit and primrose domino of Prince Zoo-Zoo. She was fast asleep, and the empty brandy bottle lay on the floor by her side; it had been a careless omission on Thekla's part not to conceal it during the poor thing's absence from the room.

There is little more to add; for this is a mere sketch, and space does not admit of our entering into minute details. If we were not thus limited, it would be pleasant enough to tell how the Johnson baby outgrew its delicacy, and became quite a fine boy; to describe how Thekla taught Annie her notes, and enabled her to learn music so scientifically that in a short time she was fit to study even a solo part.

And it would have been highly satisfactory to relate how Mrs.

Lawford and Thekla had a thorough reconciliation; how the manager of the Theatre Royal offered the young musician an engagement on liberal terms, and how she found herself not in a position to be tempted by his offer.

For Otto Waldstein drove back to the lodgings in a cab with Thekla and Annie that night. There were frequent meetings afterwards between the two old friends at the house of kind Mrs. Lawford, and in a few weeks' time Otto's father and sister came to England on a visit. Otto was considered to have gained all the experience he needed, and no opposition was shown by his relations to the high-spirited, hardworking Thekla returning with them to her native country as Otto's affianced bride.

MARGARET C. HELMORE.

LESS pure the flakes of glistening snow That lie along thy Danish land; Less sweet the angel forms that glow With life beneath Thorwaldsen's hand,

Than thou, Christine; whom erst I met,

Far wanderers we, on Volga's shore; And loved thine hazel eyes, and set Thy face before me evermore.

I mind me how thy light laugh spoke
Of heart that never grief had
known;
And how thy German gutturals broke
In music that was not their own.

'What joy,' I whispered in thine ear, To touch those lips, whose sweets outvie

The roses at thy breast, and bear Their fragrance with me till I die ! The while in mine own land I tell What love-flowers bloom beyond the sea.'

Ah, hush! dear friend; that were not well;

I have no kisses left for thee.
Are not thine English maidens fair,

And English kisses long and deep? Take there thy fill: I may not share The lips I swore for Hans to keep.'

WALTER B. PATON.

I Do not suppose that there has been any Oriental bazaar or any European exhibition that can exactly compare with the marvellous shopwindows of the streets of London. At all times, to the philosopher of the pavement, the shops have infinite possibilities of instruction and delight. It is at Christmas time that one appreciates them most of all. Then one feels that the purse of Fortunatus would be a very jolly thing to possess. One would not care for the secret chambers in the Arabian Nights, or to explore the caverns of Monte Cristo, if only one could get put on the free-list of the London shops, as is the case with the lucky people who have immense incomes or illimitable credit. That subject of credit at shops opens up an immense vista to the philosophic mind. There have been people like Beau Brummel or Count d'Orsay who could get anything they liked, and have the article wrapped up in banknotes, if they felt so disposed, to give it currency and fashion; whereas, in the case of other people, even if they be philosophers, there must be a reference or ready money. Perhaps it is quite as well; for money always represents value, and every article sold has to be paid for in one way or another, sooner or later.

There is something specially fresh and exciting in the streets at Christmas. Perhaps the air is keen and frosty, which is the proper kind of weather for the season, although the season in recent years has been rather capricious

in this respect. The very multitude of people in the street has an eagerness of aspect, an intensity of vitality that reacts favourably on oneself. Although I do not believe in spiritualism, I saw a rather keen remark made by a spiritualist the other day-read it, in point of fact, in a police-report. He said that if we associated with people with less energy than ourselves, we lost nerve-power; but if we were with people with greater energy, then we increased our nerve-power. Like the hero who gathered strength from his native earth, I no sooner walk the London pavements, and look at the London shops, and come in contact with the London multitudes, than I positively feel a fresh access of vitality. There

is really an electric force abroad at this season of the year. The current of pleasure and joyous anticipation are in full fresh tide. Here are the happy children from school dispersing their reserve of pocket-money at the toy shops; the squires, squiresses, and squireens that have come up for the Cattle Show; the young men and maidens who are not only thinking of decorations in churches, but of mystic services therein; the papas, idle men who only have to pay the assemblage of all classes who find their turn to linger in the streets and to look at the shop-windows: these come out in the multitudes which only London can show, and that semiecstatic state of mind which only Christmas can produce.

And the shop-windows are pre

pared for the human flies that gather to their sweets. They are got up in gala dress. They are full of bravery and beauty. The wealth and prodigality of all the regions of the earth are gathered beneath our dull skies and our canopy of mists. I like to walk the streets in the brief transitory bursts of sunshine that so often mark our December mornings; in the afternoons when the watery sunsets mingle among those flashing gems or elaborate ornaments, among which a thousand-pound note is a mere circumstance.

Later still in the murky atmosphere, on the setting in of dusk, when shop after shop bursts into light, until London puts on a garb of festal illumination, then it is that I mingle in the crowd, and study the windows, and son.etimes have the privilege of hardily venturing near the counter. There is not a single shop-window where the influence of Christmas is not a visible and powerful influence. I go to the great WestEnd jewellers, where watchmen and policemen carefully guard the portals, for the treasures therein are as rich as those in the vaults of banks or as imperial regalias. Then the toy-shops are door to miraculous. Every fresh Christmas there is some new improvement, or some novel invention. If you watch the shopwindows narrowly you will perceive how many of the toys have a distinct scientific or artistic value. Perhaps the schools of art are humanising us all round; we are all attaining to a higher level of culture; the old people might judiciously try to be boys and girls again, and recommence their studies in life by an investigation of the shops. Certainly the new generation ought to be much cleverer than we old fogies ever were, for we never had such

next

pleasures and advantages. Then as for pictures-to take one set of things alone-only look at the Christmas-cards, which are cheap and pretty, just as the jewels which we have mentioned are dear and pretty. Quite a new industry has arisen in these Christmas-cards.

The Post Office has

found in them a fresh demand for labour and a fresh source of revenue. I believe there are now ladies who make quite a pleasant income by the poetical and artistic compositions of these cards. How thoroughly they are appreciated by all classes of society, and in every time of life! At this time, too, the bookshops are crowded with people, who are not only buying newspapers and magazines, the ordinary pabulum of the multitude, but also the new books which are supplied in infinite beauty and variety at this season of the year. 1 look with unlimited favour on the array of splendid bindings in the windows. I always think that the present of a well-chosen volume argues something very nice about both the giver and the recipient.

If ever there is a time for making a good sale-as when a set of diamonds were sold one morning for five-and-twenty thousand pounds across the counter-Christmastide would be such a propitious season. Business is brightening up all around. How the shopkeepers' eyes legitimately brighten up when Christmas presents are being bought for the young lady who is going to be married, or for the young couple who are going out to India!

At the same time, it is not to be supposed that these very intellectual young people have not as vivid an idea of the contents of the pastrycook's window as ever their grandsires possessed. Indeed it is much to be doubted whether the anti

In fact, at every shop-window at Christmastide a great deal of 'gaping' is going on. This is a

curious but felicitous word invented by Mr. Ford in his Handbook for Spain. In the Rambla at Barcelona,' he says, 'are the best shops and most gape-seed.' The word is expressive to the traveller who gapes and stares. But I venture to think that those Christmas windows are deserving of any amount of gaping and staring.

The shops in the great markets are at all times most worthy of attention. They are especially so at the Christmas season. My favourite markets are those of Covent Garden, Leadenhall-street, and Billingsgate. As for the approaches to streets leading to these markets, they are well nigh choked up by the crowd of buyers and the large heaps of their purchases. How rich and varied and suggestive are the burdens which they bear! Here come the moving groves of holly and of mistletoe; and, indeed, I deplore sincerely that absence of red berries which is caused by the mildness of the weather. The one consolation is that this same mildness greatly alleviates the sufferings of our poorest poor. It would be pleasant to follow mistletoe and holly as they are borne away to decorate hall and staircase and the living-rooms of warm happy dwellings, and to think of the young lips

Prices

that will meet beneath the mistletoe, of the hollies that will be twined about the pillars and arches of our churches. Then, as for those treasures of the conservatories which are exhibited at the florists', it would seem as if the colour and radiance of the brightest of summer days had been incorporated into the murkiest of winter days. Why, all the way along Thames - street each shop-window seems a little Billingsgate in itself. Leaderhall Market is the warmest and cosiest of all the markets. You thread your way along the narrow passages bordered by busy shopsa perfect wilderness and congeries of shops-where all our furred and feathered friends do meet, specimens, indeed, of nearly all the fauna of our island. rule high at Christmastide. For the Leadenhall salesmen this is the great harvest of the year. There is generally a time, a few weeks before Christmas, when game runs very cheap. There has been a glut of it in the market. Game has come up by tons from the great battues, and most of it has been sold cheaper than butchers' - meat. They recover their prices at Christmas, and, alas, never get cheaper afterwards. The pheasant, that lovely Asian bird; the turkey, worthiest of the New World's gifts to the Old ; snipe and woodcock if there has been frost; black game and white game from Scotland and Norway; wild-fowl and water-fowl of all sorts, all these are here in lavish abundance. One thing I have noticed especially in the busy afternoons before Christmas, how everywhere in the market the men and boys take strong tea, and, comparatively speaking, alcohol is conspicuous by its absence.

If the grand shops in the great thoroughfares dazzle so much