I was glad to set down to Lu. I won sixand-a-half guineas; came home, read three chapters in the bible, and to bed.

To Lady Harrington's, and was set down to Lu with the Duchess of Hamilton. Lost ten guineas, and did not get home till half after eleven. Read in the bible, and went to

was extended to the wives of privy coun- | to Lu when I came in. We played till after cillors. Indeed there remained only two eleven, and I won forty-six guineas. ceremonials worthy of being graced by her presence, and these, a coronation and the trial of a peer, were in the nature of things of comparatively rare occurrence. Although, then, court news is regularly recorded in the journal, and mention is made among other important events of the Prince of Wales, afterwards George the Fourth, having been "put in breeches It will be noticed that Bible-reading on a given day, it is mainly made up of generally followed upon the game of tedious accounts of the routine of fash-Lu;" though these studies were someionable society, in which eating plays a times varied by a course of "Grammont's very important part. Memoirs," or other equally profane literature.

Here are a few extracts illustrative of the Lady Mary's culinary experiences as she records them for the information of her sisters:

bed.

I was very indiscreet and eat so many little eels that my stomach was disordered last night.

We had two very large carp for supper, but very muddy.

At a ball at Lord Hertford's, where dancing began at half past seven, "every. thing at supper was cold excepting pees, beans, soops and fish," notwithstanding which her ladyship boasts of having had a "very good stomach."

Card-playing ranks only next to eating, the games being Lu, quadrille, cribbage, tresdille, faron, quinze, and occasionally "a ruber of whisk." The stakes appear to have been high, since Lady Mary's winnings or losings at one sitting occa sionally exceed fifty guineas:

Lady Harrington's party broke up sooner than usual, and she came to our table. I lost five guineas, came home about half after eleven, read a little in the bible, and went to bed.

Played at Lu; won eleven guineas, and did not come home till near twelve o'clock. Read three chapters in Revelations.

His Royal Highness was just sitting down

bed.

Set off half-an-hour after six to return visits; made thirty-six and ended at Lady Holderness. Played at Lu, and won sixteen guineas.

Hertford, where I played at Lu till eleven, Made thirty-two visits, and ended at Lord and won eleven guineas.

The old Duchess of Argyll considered the "Assembly in King Street," as the future "Almack's was then called, an improper resort for young people; but Lady Mary had no fault to find with it except on the score of its dulness; whereas she declared Ranelagh to be always bril

liant.

The following description of an entertainment there is characteristic, though the language is rather such as a smart Abigail might employ than that of a great court lady.

I think I never saw so much great company

there was ten Duchesses, Countesses in

plenty, and I believe I may say, hundreds of the nobility; but not one Royal Person.

Here is a conversation between two grandes dames which is thought worthy of being recorded in the journal:

The Duchess of Bedford, who, you know, gives herself airs, said at Gunneysbury, "did ever anybody see such creatures as the Princes of Sax Goth?" I asked her Grace if she had seen them." knew them? "No, it was the first time she I then told her that I had that honor, and that I could assure her that but had the manners of a man of distinction. the eldest Prince was not only very sensible, This seemed to offend her, for she turned to me and said: "I am very glad to hear it! I wish your Ladyship may be hereditary Princess of Sax Goth." I smiled, and thanked her Grace for the great honor she did me, but

assured her that I made no wishes on that
subject.

The picture of the great world of fash-
ion, as presented in the journal, is not an
agreeable one. We hear much in the
present day of the decadence of manners,
and of the striking superiority in that
respect of the great ladies and the fine
gentlemen of four or five generations
back. There can be no doubt that they
were more ceremonious, but there are no
traces in Lady Mary Coke's social records
of that refined tone and high breeding
which we are apt to ascribe to our ances-
tors. On the contrary, their stilted lan-
guage, their bows and courtesies, seem to
have been only the veneer employed to
cover a mass of much coarseness and no
little vice. It is never very safe to com-
pare the morals of one age with that of
another; but modern society, if not "bet-
ter," may certainly claim to be more
"decent" than that of a century ago.
Would such a scene as Lady Mary here
records be possible in the present day?

I forgot to tell you a story of Sir William Stanhope. He sent to some entertainment, where the king of Denmark was invited, a particular kind of wine. . which his Majesty liked of all things; and expressed a desire to have some of it if it could be got, which was immediately communicated to Sir William. But the wine was not to be had in this country and Sir William had no more; upon which he sent a message to his Majesty, expressing his concern that he had none left, nor anything else that he knew of worthy of his acceptance, unless Lady Stanhope, whom he freely offered to his Majesty.t

Although the journal betrays not the least interest in learning or science of any description, there is throughout Lady Mary's records an assumption of high in tellectual cultivation; indeed there is nothing except her virtue, upon which she appears to have more prided herself than her literary acquirements, though the few books she refers to are of the most trivial character. Once indeed she does mention having passed several hours in a library; but the object of her studies proves to have been nothing more ab

• Christian the Eighth, who had then recently been married to the youngest sister of George the Third, ↑ It was of this pair of whom, shortly after their marriage in 1763, Walpole writes to Sir Horace Mann: "We sent you Sir William Stanhope and my lady, a fond couple; you have returned them to us very different. When they came to Blackheath he got out of the chaise to go to his brother Lord Chesterfield's; made her a low bow, and said: 'Madam, I hope I shall never see your face again.' She replied, Sir, I will take all the care I can that you never shall.'"

and had come to England on a visit.

struse than the question as to whether or not Prince George of Denmark had kept a master of the horse.

It is amusing to note the surprise with which she records an instance of her failure to influence a powerful mind: "You know that Mr. Hume is a great infidel. I have had some conversation with him, but have no hope of converting him from his like to have seen the historian's face while erroneous way of thinking." One would being examined in his catechism by the court lady.

As gold miners will incur the cost and labor of crushing tons of quartz for the sake of abstracting a few ounces of the pure ore, so Lady Louisa Stuart took the trouble to dig through the superincumbent mass of rubbish of which the journal mainly consists, in order to discover and bring to the surface the few atoms, scattered here and there, which serve to illustrate contemporary history or manners, and which the memoir presents in a con

cise and attractive form.

Among these scant materials, not the least interesting are the records of Lady Mary's visits to the principal Continental courts, in the course of which her overWeening vanity and all-absorbing egotism are thrown into such broad relief as to afford an amusing running commentary upon her experiences of foreign society.

When, for instance, in Berlin the great Frederick declined to grant her the private audience demanded, she consoled herself with the reflection that this refusal was due to reasons of State, because of her own importance as a political personage. At Vienna, however, she was received with marked distinction, and on her departure the empress presented her with her portrait set in diamonds.

For the two following years, accordingly, Lady Mary indulges in enthusiastic recollections of her Most Gracious Majesty; but on her return to Vienna in 1775, her love of meddling and self-assertion induced her to make herself a conspicuous partisan in a court cabal, a proceeding which Maria Theresa so severely resented that the visitor left the court in a state of dudgeon and anger, allayed only by a proud satisfaction in being able to count the great Empress of Austria and Queen of Hungary among her personal enemies.

Taking Paris on her homeward way she was imprudent enough to proclaim her own version of this incident, and in doing so to speak of her Imperial Majesty in terms of vituperation and contempt. The young queen of France, at best little dis

posed to lavish much favor upon one whom Lady Louisa describes at that time as "a tall elderly English noblewoman, full fraught with all the forms, etiquettes, decorums, and nice observances of her country and order; wearing a large flat hoop, long ruffles and sweeping train; holding herself very upright and speaking very bad French," no sooner learnt that this new arrival at her brilliant court had indulged in language disrespectful to her mother, than she repelled her advances with such insulting coldness that Lady Mary claimed the protection and intervention of Horace Walpole, who had once been among her most devoted admirers, who had portrayed her virtues in his most eloquent prose, and celebrated her charms in glowing verse. Even in those salad days, however, he was able to detect specks upon the sun of his worship, for in a letter to Sir Horace Mann he remarks of her that "though a great lady she has a rage for great personages, and for being one of them herself; and with these pretensions and profound gravity, has made her Royal Highness, after one or two more herself ridiculous at home, and delighted vain endeavors to bring her down from her to promener sa folie par toute l'Europe." high stilts, rose to her full height likewise, Her virtue is unimpeachable, her friendship and assuming all the king's daughter: Well, violent, her anger deaf to remonstrance. She madam, your ladyship knows your own pleas has cried for forty people and quarrelled with ure best; I wish you health and happiness, four hundred. . she might be happy and for the future, and for the present Goodrespected, but will always be miserable from morning.' Here!" to the page in waiting, the folly of her views, and her passion for the "order Lady Mary Coke's carriage!" then extraordinary. gravely bowing in token of dismissal turned away. From that moment they never met again.

One so greatly born [writes the old Princess Amelia in doubtful grammar of Lady Mary, whom she had known in her early girlhoodj must allwais be well come at my Table, and is constantly expected on Tuesdays, provide she will be a little less contradicting, and hide inferior to hers. her great abilitys from those she thinks are

Extravagant, however, as was her adu lation of exalted rank, Lady Mary's love of domineering had by this time become so ingrained in her nature that she could not control it, even in the presence of royalty.

Again to Lady Ossory:

Lady Mary Coke has had a hundred distresses abroad, that do not weigh a silver penny altogether. She is like Don Quixote, who went in search of adventures, and when he found none imagined them.

When she now appealed to him to become her champion in a crusade against the French court, and he, after having heard all she had to say, found her so completely in the wrong as not to feel justified in espousing her cause, she denounced him as a traitor unworthy of her further regard.

Lady Mary Coke [he now writes to his old friend in Florence in a tone little indicative of a broken heart] has repaid some services I rendered her at Paris and elsewhere, with singular rudeness to me since my return, but she is mad.

George the Second's good-natured daughter had continued to bear with these infirmities of temper long after the patience of most of her other intimates had become exhausted; but when at last Lady Mary, smarting under her losses at the card-table, so far forgot herself as to indulge in some offensive remarks on the play of the Princess Amelia, which she declined to withdraw when asked to do so,

Lady Mary Coke is dead at last. Lady With increasing years Lady Mary's Queensberry tells me that she died with a faults of temper and disposition hardened high-crowned beaver hat upon her head, and strengthened, till her aggressive self-proud Egypt's prouder queen.' though in bed; like Cleopatra crowned: "" As Lord

assertion became so intolerable as to alienate even her most indulgent friends Mr. Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe in a letter to and acquaintances.

Lord Gower.

Seafield said of the Scottish parliament at never failed to put inside-flowers which
the Union: "here's an end to an auld sang,'
"had inspired a string of stornelli nearly
she was vulgar; she said "this here"
long enough to reach from Naples to
and "that there" Only think of Lord Bari; a stornello for every one, with a few
Orford having been in love with this harpy!
epics thrown in.

From Blackwood's Magazine.
THE GREAT WATER-CRESS TRAGEDY.
I.

But there is nothing perfect. That road from Naples to Bari had really seemed strewn with flowers, as, all the way back, Guido's fancy painted for him the first meeting after so long a parting in a hundred different ways, and each way more charming in turn than all the others. So Of all unaccountable things it ought to of course it was in the one way of which be the most unaccountable that so studi- his romance had scorned to dream. Not ous, nay, learned a young man as Guido only, when he had flown up the stairs to Floriani, clever, ambitious, a poet and a the high story where he hoped to have doctor of laws, should have set all his Irene-for he knew the household arhopes of happiness upon nobody better rangements-all to himself, did he find than the daughter of the enameller, her father with her at an unaccustomed Fabio Vanucci a girl without a dowry, hour, and a stranger with her father, but and unable to read even a love-letter. he found something else: a certain chill Nay, more: though he was dead in love which he could not altogether refer to his with Irene when he left his and her native disappointment at the failure of his careBari to pursue his studies at Naples, and fully laid out plan for a joyful and unrethough he was a handsome and amiable strained meeting. Vanucci had certainly young man with no distaste for pleasure, changed somehow, and not-so Guido he came back from Naples to Bari deader felt for the better; and to the stranger in love with her than ever! the young man felt one of those antipathies at first sight which some people believe to be infallible warnings.

Well, love has been answerable for more
unaccountable things even than that; and
it certainly never occurred to the young
advocate that there was even a certain
lack of prudence for a lawyer without
clients to want to marry a portionless girl
when that girl's name was Irene Vanucci.
And, be it said at once, there were miti-
gating circumstances; as he, being a doctor
of laws, would have put the _matter in an-
other case than his own. She was very
pretty; she was very good; she was very
gentle; and she worshipped him to an ex-spired only pity, not aversion.
tent that would have satisfied the most
exacting demands of a vainer man.
Finally, they were in love with one an-
other because in short, because they
were.

The stranger was pale, emaciated, cadaverous to the point of ghastliness; he looked as if he were just about to step into, or had just stepped out of, his grave. And this appearance was the more intensified by his contrast with Guido's healthy youth, the enameller's only too stout and too florid vigor, and Irene's fresh grace and charm. Such was the man's appearance, that it ought, of right, to have in

It had been good to see her face again, after the long purgatory of absence, tempered indeed by a letter now and then, but written, as he knew, not by the hand he wanted to kiss sixty times an hour, and not in her own simple words, but by the crabbed fingers and in the high-flown style of old Ulisse, who had probably composed and written identically the same letters for her mother; perhaps even for her grandmother, and for Guido's grandmother who could tell? Not Ulisse, for he never told; he had written so many love-letters that they meant no more to him than his fee. The real letter had been the flowers, one of which Irene had

His

pointed shoulders seemed almost to meet over his narrow chest; the sockets of his eyes were like caverns; his thin lips were drawn away from his darkened teeth and gums; and the complexion of his cheeks resembled some grey parchment on which a death-warrant had been plainly inscribed, the signature being only too legibly represented by a hectic ring round each hollow. Then his hands, limp, waxen, and weak, with long fingers and discolored nails, were alone enough to tell a physician tales. It was not, however, bodily disease that, to Guido at least, seemed to forbid sympathy. The man looked though the idea might not have occurred to one who was not a poet - as if he were being consumed by his own wickedness, and yet wickedness of so weak a sort as to make one wonder that it should be able to consume anything.

This unwelcome intruder, when Guido | should get well. You look too young to entered the room, was just coming to from be rich, so you don't know what it means a fit of feeble yet exhausting coughing, to have a lot of poor relations, a lot of which made the lover's appearance all the wretches, waiting for your shoes. It's more distressingly unseasonable. The important I should live to disappoint 'em, glow came into Irene's cheeks and the every one. I want to marry and have a Пight into her eyes when she saw who had family of my own. I don't want to feel, come again; but that coughing wretch when I'm coming here to look at Signor kept the lovers farther apart than the Vanucci's mosaics, that every step would whole breadth of Italy, which had been be the death of me. Look here! I tell between them till to-day. you what I tell every doctor I see: I'll give twenty-five thousand francs to the man who will rid me of this-cold. expect there isn't a doctor in Europe, Africa, Australia, or America who isn't after that money. They say it's consumption, and that's where they go wrong. I'll tell you my symptoms. In the first place

"Hold up, signor," said Vanucci, roughly but cheerfully. "Love, smoke, and a cough are hard to hide. Irene, give Signor Merrick a dose of wine, and me another; it's empty casks that make a noise. What! Guido Floriani back again? Take a dose yourself. And to whose health shall I drink? To Captain Floriani? or to Floriani, primo tenore of San Carlo? or to the great poet Floriani? It'll be something great, to be sure," he said, with what seemed rather an overdone affectation of blunt raillery than the real thing.

"I have come back a doctor," said Guido, with modest pride, glancing at Irene, and suddenly aware that her quickened color was caused not by his swift glance but by the stranger's unbridled

stare.

But at the word "doctor" the latter turned to Guido.

"A doctor! Ah! And a young doctor! Then maybe you have heard something new," he said, in the ghost of a voice which nobody could interpret without the fear of breaking it to pieces altogether. "I am an Englishman; my name is Merrick Albert Merrick. I am a rich man. I have seven thousand pounds, a hundred and seventy thousand francs, a year. I'm rich, talented, amiable, not ill-looking, and yet I'm a miserable man. And why? All because of an obstinate cold. Yes, you may well look at me. Though I say it that shouldn't, I don't believe there ever was a case like mine. I've baffled your whole faculty for years. I've consulted every doctor, famous or not famous, in London, Paris, Vienna, New York-everywhere. And they're humbugs, one and all. Consumption, indeed! I've tried Algiers, Madeira, South Africa, Davos-places that cure consumption. So mine can't be consumption, or else it would have been cured long and long ago. I've been advised to try the air of the Adriatic, and upon my soul I believe I am better," he gasped, with a sort of leer at Irene. "Better-but you see I want to get well. It's really important that I

I

"Signor," said Guido, with increased disgust, and taking advantage of the other's sudden exhaustion, "I fear there is a misunderstanding. I am not a doctor of medicine. I am an advocate-a doctor of laws."

"Oh-that all!" said the Englishman, as if Guido were no longer worth notice, and settling down into another stare at Irene.

Vanucci began to fidget a little; for all his geniality, he was evidently anxious and ill at ease. "An advocate, eh! ahlawyers' houses are built of fools' skulls. Faith, you'll find building materials for a whole street of such houses in Bari. By the way, Signor Merrick, will you grant me ten thousand pardons -or even one will do if I leave you? I've got to see somebody about something, and

"I shall be delighted; that is to say, don't mind me," said Signor Merrick. "Though I haven't got to work for my living, I can make every allowance for you poor fellows that have to-I can indeed. The signorina will do to show me those mosaics just as well."

"Then come along, doctor," said Vanucci. "Come along. You're going my way, and-yes, yes; Irene knows alt about everything. You've come just in the nick of time, Doctor Floriani, to advise me about a point of law. We can talk it over as we go. And cheer up, signor! 'Tis of the sickness a man fears that he dies."

There was no help for it. Guido rather plumed himself upon being a man of resource; and indeed it is wonderful how full of resource we all are, except just at the moment when it is wanted. Unluckily nothing occurred to him just then beyond taking the stranger by the coat-collar and dropping him from the open window into