one of H. M.'s steam-launches--thus relieving the controversy of a
very material and interesting item in the negotiation. Of course this
has no other foundation than mere rumor; but it is a rumor that no one
assumes to discredit, nor, indeed, any to deny, except the very discreet
officials of our mission here, who naturally protest that it is a
fabrication of the French press. The envoy is still here, and
actively proceeding against the Government for an indemnity for unjust
imprisonment.' And now, Jack, here is the best of all. Listen to this:
'So sensible are our ministers at home of the great service rendered by
this adroit measure, the relief experienced by the removal of what at
any moment might have become the very gravest of all questions,--that of
peace or war,--that no reward is deemed too high for its distinguished
author, and his Excellency Lord Viscount Culduff'--Culduff--"

"Lord Culduff!" cried Jack and Julia, in amazement.

"'Viscount Culduff has been offered the post of ambassador at
Constantinople!'"

Jack snatched the paper from his hands, and stared in mute amazement at
the lines.

"And is this the way fortunes are made in the world?" cried he, at last.

"Only in the great walks of life, Jack," said Julia. "Small people talk
and labor, take service in Argentine republics, or fight for Mussulmen;
distinguished people fire but one shot, but it always explodes in the
enemy's magazine."

"I wonder what he would have thought if he had known for whom he
was negotiating," said Jack, dryly. "I half suspect my distinguished
brother-in-law would have left me in chains far rather than drive down
the Corso with me."

"I declare--no, I won't say the spiteful thing that crossed my mind--but
I _will_ say, I 'd like to have seen a meeting between you and your
brother Temple."

"You think he'd have been so ashamed of me," said Jack, with a laugh.

"Not a bit of it. _You_ might possibly have been ashamed of the
situation--shocked with being such an unworthy member of a great
house--but _he_, Temple, would have accepted you like a fever or an
ague,--a great calamity sent from above,--but he would not have felt
shame, any more than if you had been the scarlatina. Look at poor
George," cried she, with a merry laugh. "He thinks I 've said something
very wicked, and he feels he ought to deplore it and possibly rebuke
me."

Jack could not help laughing at the rueful expression of L'Estrange's
face, and his emoti