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when once they are in the saddle it won't be easy to form a strong opposition to them. At your age you can very well afford to wait through one Parliament without committing yourself."

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Now these opinions, whether wise or not, seemed so to Gilbert, because they happened to chime in with his own; nor was it only with regard to the position which he should take up in the House that Miss Huntley had sound advice to offer him. According to her and here again he was quite of her mind-it is not in public life alone that the path to office and honors is to be found. To be acquainted with Cabinet ministers and the wives of Cabinet ministers is an advantage which a man of tact may easily turn to account, and which, at the very least, must render his existence more enjoyable and exciting than it could otherwise be.

"The great thing," she declared, "is to be seen and known. That is both a means and an end; and if one is to be neither the one nor the other one might almost as well be planting cabbages at Beckton as sitting in the House of Commons, night after night, listening to weary, dreary debates.'

Such sentiments found a ready echo in Gilbert's heart; nor is it surprising that they should also have set him speculating upon the probable future career of Miss Huntley's husband. That lucky individual would, at all events, have what was denied to him-unlimited command of ready money and a house at which the best of good company would congregate.

It was not in the course of one or even two interviews similar to the above that Gilbert succeeded in making himself thoroughly discontented. The greater part of his leisure time was spent with Kitty, and spent more pleasantly, perhaps also more profitably, than in devising ambitious schemes. But Kitty, in spite of the claims of her lover and of the canvassing labors which she had undertaken on his behalf, had not severed her connection with St. Michael's, and it frequently happened that her presence was required at the church or the vicarage after the daily five-o'clock evensong. Gilbert was wont to accompany her so far and then to take his way homeward; but now that the evenings were drawing in, it was dull work to sit all alone in the great empty house at Beckton, waiting for the dinner-bell to ring; and what could be more natural than that a forlorn bachelor should turn aside to the Manor House for a cup of tea and a little improving conversation?

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matter of fact, he did so turn aside nearly every day, and about this time Kitty noted with satisfaction that he ceased to grumble at her for "making herself a slave to that immaculate parson.'

One cannot please everybody. These evening visits, these prolonged tête-àtêtes by the firelight, which seemed to give so much pleasure to Gilbert, and in which Kitty (who was duly informed of them) acquiesced quite cheerfully, were a source of deep disquietude and disgust to Miss Joy. Not often had she ventured to read a lecture to the somewhat imperious lady whose nominal chaperon she was; still, being a courageous and conscientious woman, she felt it incumbent upon her one morning to say,

"Beatrice, dear, Mr. Segrave comes here too often."

"Does he?" asked Beatrice with innocent simplicity. "Well, now that you mention it, I dare say he does. He hasn't begun to bore me yet though."

"I don't mean that; I mean that he comes here too often for his happiness and perhaps for Miss Greenwood's into the bargain.

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Matilda, my beloved, are you so desperately anxious for his happiness?"

"I don't care a brass farthing whether he is happy or unhappy; it is about you that I am anxious, answered Miss Joy candidly.

"Oh! - neither about him nor about poor Kitty, then, after all? Now be honest, Matilda; don't you think that I am pretty well able to take care of myself?"

"Most certainly I do not," Miss Joy declared; "that is just exactly what I don't think."

"How little you know me! Some day you will admit your mistake. In the mean time, if it would relieve you to speak a word of warning to Mr. Segrave or to Kitty, or to both of them, pray do so. Nobody will be the worse for it."

"And nobody will be the better," sighed Miss Joy, conscious of her impotence.

The excellent woman saw plainly that neither warnings nor remonstrances would be of any avail, and therefore held her peace; but she was sorely distressed in mind, for Gilbert, of whom she had never thought too highly, had forfeited the last vestige of her esteem by his present behavior; and what was still worse, she found herself compelled to admit that Beatrice was behaving quite as badly as he. That was as much as to say that the world was upside down.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the little

"That sounds a very rude thing to say," Mitchell went on apologetically; "but what I mean is that in these cases it is really all plain sailing. She didn't care for me, and she did care for Segrave. That seems to me to be final. I couldn't make her care for me."

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Oh, excuse me; that doesn't follow at all. And how do you know that she cares for Mr. Segrave? How do you know that the person with whom she is in love isn't an imaginary being whom she will never find inside Mr. Segrave's skin?"

world in which Miss Joy dwelt was com- | were," he replied at length; "but as far posed for the most part of people who as I could understand them, they weren't could not easily believe their bosom exactly-well, I don't think I should friends capable of treachery. The soft, have employed them myself. The fact misty autumn days passed on and brought is, I believe honesty to be the best policy." no clouds over the contentment of the Miss Huntley did not appear to relish Greenwood family. Kitty, it is true, re- the condemnation which she had invited; marked that Gilbert was nervous and irri- for she frowned and shut up her fan with table at times; but this she attributed to a snap. election worries, and was too sweet-tempered to resent. As for jealousy, that had never been among her failings. Certainly she had been a little jealous of Beatrice Huntley once upon a time, and had confessed that peccadillo, half penitently, half laughingly, to Gilbert long ago. In those days she had not been sure of his love she was sure of it now, and it would have required something a great deal more serious than his visits to the Manor House to make her distrust him. As reasonably might he have distrusted her for making much of Mitchell, who at this time was far more constantly with her than Gilbert was with Miss Huntley. For Mitchell's goods and chattels were being packed up. "It would be no kindness to encourage Somewhat suddenly he had announced me, Miss Huntley, even if you could. his appointment to another coastguard But you can't. I must grin and bear it. station in the north of England, and Kitty, The only thing is that I find I can't bear who divined that the transfer had not been to stay here, and that is why I'm off to unsolicited, felt that the least she could | Berwick-on-Tweed." do was to make his last days at Kingscliff as pleasant for him as might be. On the eve of his departure a few friends were invited to a farewell dinner in his honor at Morden Court; and then it was that Miss Huntley and he had a little talk together for the first time since her return; for although they had met before, neither of them had displayed much anxiety to compare notes with the other. Now, however, she beckoned him aside to say,

"So you are retiring from the field of battle."

"That is the usual thing to do after one has been beaten, is it not?" he returned. "One should not allow oneself to be so easily beaten."

'Well, I don't know about that; under certain circumstances defeat is inevitable, I suppose."

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"And a bungling ally is not quite the right person to make criticisms, perhaps?" "Oh, you mustn't put words into my mouth that I never used, Miss Huntley. I know you did your best for me and very kind it was of you, I'm sure." Nevertheless, I miscalculated my strength; and you didn't think much of my tactics, did you ?

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But this was too subtle for the straightforward Mitchell, who shook his head and answered,

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"Leaving the enemy in possession." "Oh, I don't want to call him the enemy. He and I have never hit it off together particularly well; but most people like him, and after all, he is the man whom she has chosen to be her husband."

"And suppose the man whom she has chosen to be her husband should break her heart some fine day?"

"In that case, I shouldn't think twice about breaking his head."

"A very useful and practical measure, though hardly to be described as either prevention or cure. Perhaps you wouldn't carry it out, though; perhaps by that time you may have found consolation on one side or other of the Border."

Mitchell reddened.

"Look here, Miss Huntley," said he a little roughly; "I have known Kitty Greenwood since she was a child in the schoolroom, and I have never in all my life loved another woman. I don't know that it matters very much what you may think of me; but if you think that I shall 'find consolation,' as you call it, at this time of day, you make a mistake."

"Don't be angry," she returned, laughing; "I give you full credit for constancy, though I can't say as much for your per"You never told me what your tactics severance. Apparently, your notion of

Mitchell hesitated.

fighting a battle isn't the same as mine. | whose glittering eyes and snowy beard If I were in your place I should say to had gained for him, among the village folk, myself that all was not lost so long as the the reputation of a prophet, once visited girl whom I loved remained unmarried, the cottage, and having looked long upon that engagements have been broken off the child as it lay asleep in its poor cradle, before now, and that when a woman looks broke forth into a prediction that the boy at a rejected lover with tears in her eyes, would some day rise to more than kingly it is because she is beginning to find out power, but that his empire would be brief, what he is worth." and his fall sudden. The seer who uttered such a prophecy deserved his fame. The story of Masaniello - the most romantic story in the history of mankind fulfilled the oracle; with what exactness, and by what events, we propose to call to mind.

"She didn't look at me with eyes!" exclaimed Mitchell. you mean?"

tears in her "What do "Did she not? I suppose I must have been deceived, then, when I caught a glimpse of her across the dinner-table. Perhaps she had swallowed an overdose of mustard, or she may have been dazzled by the brilliancy of her prospects. To be sure she might have wept all the tears of Niobe before you would have seen them; for your own eyes don't seem to be as sharp as a sailor's ought to be. Since you won't use them at Kingscliff, perhaps you may as well be at Berwick-on-Tweed as here. It wouldn't be a bad plan to take a return ticket though.'

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"What do you mean?" asked Mitchell, for the second time.

"That you will be wanted to act as best man to Mr. Segrave on his wedding day, of course. What else should I mean? and what part could suit you better? You have chosen to surrender to him without striking a blow; it is only fit that you should walk in his triumph."

Mitchell drove home that night with a young man who was loud in his commendation of Miss Huntley, her beauty, her talents, and her amiability. The elder man listened for a long time with that silence which is said to imply assent; but at length he responded,

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"Miss Huntley may be all that you say, and I should think she is; but between | you and me, I doubt whether she is quite right in the upper story."

It was this impression of her, and no other, that he took away with him to Berwick-on-Tweed.

From Temple Bar.

MASANIELLO.

MASANIELLO was born at Amalfi in the year 1622. His father was a fisherman, and the child first saw the light among the nets and baskets of a little hut on the seacoast. His birth was attended by an augury. It is said that an ancient monk,

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The boy was brought up to his father's trade. When he was about his twentieth year he left Amalfi and crossed the bay to Naples. There he took a garret in a house which overhung a corner of the great market square; married a girl no richer than himself; and thenceforward every morning, as soon as the sun rose up behind the black peaks of Vesuvius, his boat was to be seen dancing over the blue waters of the bay.

The life of a fisherman is hard and poor. Masaniello went barefooted. His dress was the common dress of the fishermen of Naples, loose linen trousers, a blue blouse, and a red cap. But his figure, though not tall, was striking; his face was handsome; his eyes black, large, and glittering; and there was about him a peculiar air of selfreliance, the index of a bold, capable, and fiery mind.

For about four years he lived quietly; in poverty, yet not perhaps in discontent. But the Spanish viceroys who ruled Naples, and who had long waxed fat upon the taxes, were yearly sucking deeper of the people's blood. A tax was set on fish, a tax on flour, a tax on poultry, wine, milk, cheese, salt. At last a tax on fruit, the fare on which the lower classes chiefly lived, brought the city to the brink of a revolt. Yet it is probable that, even then, without a leader, the popular excitement would have died away in empty threats and mutterings. At this crisis, the agents of the government happened to fall foul of Masaniello. A basket of his fish which had not paid the tax was seized and carried to the castle. The same day his wife was stopped as she was carrying in her apron a small quantity of flour, was dragged to the receipt of custom, and being found to have no money, either to pay the duty or to bribe the agents, was locked up in a cell.

They had better have hanged a hundred lazzaroni on the gibbet in the market

place. Masaniello was stung to madness. | in a loud voice, "and our cursed govern. From that moment his sole thought was of revenge.

The most tremendous weapon known to man was ready to his hand a city on the verge of riot. His measures were soon taken. In appearance they were harmless, even trifling; but in truth they were most dexterously planned. He began by collecting in the market-place a knot of boys. To each of these he taught a phrase of words, and gave a little cane, bearing on the top a streamer of black linen like a flag. Soon five hundred, and at last two thousand, of these volunteers, were going up and down the city. In the hovels of the lazzaroni, among the stalls of the fruitsellers, before the gates of the toll-houses, under the windows of the Spanish nobles, everywhere their slender ensigns fluttered, and the pregnant words were heard: "God be with us, and Our Lady, and the king of Spain! But down with the government, the fruit-tax, and the devil!

Masaniello's scholars made a vast sensation. A few of the spectators mocked and jeered; but the seed was scattered in no stony soil. It sprang up and flourished; and in three days it was ready to bear fruit.

ment a famine. The fruit is not worth selling; let it go!" And with the words he kicked over his baskets, and sent the gourds and oranges rolling on the ground.

At that instant, as the crowd stood breathless in excitement, a voice sent forth a cry of "No more taxes!" The voice was Masaniello's. The crowd caught up the words; they swelled into a thunder. In an instant the rebellion was

afoot.

Andrea Anaclerio, the elect of the people, rushed out of his palace, and threatened Arpaja with the whip. But a storm of sticks and melons flew about his ears; a large stone struck him on the breast; and he was glad to fly for refuge into the Chapel of Our Lady.

Masaniello sprang upon a fruiterer's table. The crowd already recognized their leader. He began to speak; and he spoke with a certain rude and fiery oratory which moved his hearers more than eloquence. He bade them rejoice, for the hour of their deliverance was at hand. St. Peter, once a fisherman, had beaten down the pride of Satan and released the world from bondage; so likewise would he, Masaniello, another fisherman, strike off the bonds of the most faithful people. Let them pay no more taxes; let them win back with fire and sword the ancient privilege of Naples, the right of freedom from all taxes which the Spaniards had infringed. His own life might fall; his head might ride aloft upon a pole. But to die in such a cause would be his glory.

It was Sunday, July 7th, in the year 1647. The day was the festival of Our Lady of the Carmes, a day which had for centuries been held in celebration of an ancient victory achieved against the Moors. It was the custom on that day to erect in the market place a wooden castle, which was defended by a company of boys, while another company, half-naked, There is no rhetoric which thrills its and painted red, with turbans on their hearers like that which gives the echo to heads, in imitation of the Moors, assailed their passions. The crowd broke into a its battlements with a storm of apples, fierce shout, and turned with exultation to melons, cucumbers, and figs. This spec- the work of ravage. The first object was tacle, which usually ended in a free fight the toll-house in the square. Faggots and uproar, was, as might have been ex-drenched with pitch were hurled in at the pected, excessively popular among the windows; a lighted torch was added; and lower classes; and that morning, at the the building in a few minutes was a pile hour at which the fruit-growers from the of raging flames. Then there was a cry villages began, as usual, to pour into for arms. A ponderous beam was brought the city, the square was already thronged and wielded by strong men, the gates of with thousands of spectators. the Carmine Tower were beaten in, and the crowd rushed eagerly upon the pikes and halberds. Clubs, knives, and bars of iron were pressed into the service; and the mob, thus armed, preceded by the banner-boys of Masaniello, turned in their wild justice towards the palace of the viceroy.

The performance had not yet begun; the crowd was waiting, idle and unemployed, ready to welcome any manner of excitement; when suddenly a startling cry was heard. One of the fruit-sellers

had refused to pay the tax!

The man was Arpaja of Pozzuoli, Masaniello's cousin. The plot had been arranged between them. On being called upon to pay the duty, Arpaja flew into a rage. "God gives us plenty," he exclaimed

Their way lay past the Prison of St. James. They halted there to burst the doors and to add the prisoners to their number.

At length they reached the palace. The guards who stood at arms before the gates were swept away. The viceroy, Ponce de Leon, Duke of Arcos, and those about him, strove to secure themselves behind the inner doors. But the barricades were broken in. The duke was hunted like a thief from room to room, and forced at last, at the peril of his life, to drop from a back window by a rope, and to fly in a close carriage to the Castle of St. Elmo.

Then the palace was sacked from floor to roof. A great fire was kindled in the street. Rare and costly furniture, hangings, pictures, jewels, golden dishes, goblets stamped with the proud arms of Ponce de Leon, were hurled out of the windows, and piled into the flames. Yet in all this, and throughout the whole revolt there was no private theft. These riches were held as things accursed, as treasures purchased by the people's blood, and worthy only to be sacrificed in the hour of their revenge. And now the people, drunk with the giddy wine of vengeance, required no further rousing. The time had come for discipline, for order, and restraint; and Masaniello turned with all his vigor to the work. Then was seen the power of a commanding mind. In a marvellously short space of time, the mob became an army. Parties, each led by its own captain, and missioned to its separate duty, began to go forth through the city, searching the armorer's shops for weapons; tearing down the Spanish standard from the Carmine Tower, and planting in its place the ancient flag of Naples; marching through the streets, with trumpets singing and drums rolling, collecting volunteers; bursting open the Prisons of St. Maria and St. Archangel; dragging the cannon from the bastion of San Lorenzo, and setting the great bells pealing an alarm. As often as the Spanish soldiers met with a detachment of the rioters, there was a fierce fight; lives were lost on both sides; but the guards were always overpowered. All business became suspended, The shopkeepers shut up their shops, and joined the rebels. The nobles and the farmers of the taxes, with beating hearts and faces white with terror, barred themselves inside their palaces. Only a train of monks, in stoles of white, with censers in their hands, ventured, about the hour of vespers, to issue from the Convent of St. Paul, and to pass with prayers for peace along the streets.

When night fell, Masaniello was at the head of fifty thousand men. Nor did darkness check the course of his proceedings.

Thousands of candles, torches, cressets, watch-fires blazing at every corner of the streets, made the city as bright as day. Recruits came streaming in without cessation. And all night the work went on.

As soon as day began to break, new swarms of volunteers, equipped with sickles, pitchforks, scythes, and even spits and pokers, came pouring in from all the country round. But the arms most used that day were links and torches. A platform was erected in the market-place; and there Masaniello sat, and gave his orders. The toll-house in the square was now in cinders; but in different quarters of the city there were several others. Masaniello drew up a list of these, together with sixty of the proudest palaces in Naples, which their owners had enriched or built out of the produce of the taxes. All these were ordered to be burnt; and throughout that day, and far into the night, parties were going forth unceasingly with faggots, pitch, and torches. Women and children helped the work with sacks of straw and cans of oil. In every quarter of the city some haughty edifice, the home of a Mirabello, or of an Aquavana, was turned into a heap of smoking ruins. Treasures of all kinds, and of untold value, perished in the flames. Pictures of the Madonna and the saints were alone held sacred, were preserved, and hung up in the churches. Nothing was taken by the people. So strong on this point was the public feeling, that one of the rioters who ventured to pick up a silk scarf was instantly dragged into the market-place, and hanged by a fierce crowd.

Meanwhile, the viceroy had stolen secretly from St. Elmo, and was now shut up in Castel Nuovo, which was kept by a strong guard. From the castle he sent out his orders. But the few bands of guards which he could spare were entirely useless; and in truth the duke was in a desperate pass. He tried tactics; and he tried devotion. He sent out the Duke of Maddaloni and the prior of Rocella with a piece of parchment, which he pretended was the privilege of Naples. But the crowd immediately found out the trick; the prior was hooted, and the duke came near to being torn in pieces. He then bethought himself of St. Gennaro; and in the chapel of the great cathedral, the chapel in which, three times a year, the holy head, enshrined in silver, is still laid upon the altar, and the priest lifts up before a crowd of pilgrims the vials of sacred blood, the august relics were displayed. The saint, however, wrought no

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