," said the young
poet. "I meant one of them for a parody, but Mr. Mortimer said it was
not half enough like for parody, it only amounted to a kind of honest
plagiarism."

Considering the crestfallen air of the author, and the sigh with which
he parted from her and went his way to join his brother, she was rather
surprised to find the sort of verses that they were. They were copied in
a neat, boyish hand, and read as follows:--

SOUVENIR OF SOUTH WALES.

(A cad would thay "I thor.")

But once I saw her by the stream
(A cad would say "I sor"),
Yet ofttimes of that once I dream,
That once and never more.

By the fair flood she came to lean
(Her gown was lilac print),
And dip her pitcher down between
The stalks of water-mint.

Then shoals of little fishes fled,
And sun-flecks danced amain,
And rings of water spread and spread
Till all was smooth again.

I saw her somewhat towzled hair
Reflected in the brook--
I might have seen her often there,
Only--I didn't look.

G.C.

* * * * *

SONG OF THE BASEMENT STORY.

Her mean abode was but a cell;
'Twas lonely, chill, and drear.
Her work was all her wealth, but well
She wrought with hope and cheer.

She, envious not of great or gay,
Slept, with unbolted doors;
Then woke, and as we Yankees say,
"Flew round" and did her chores.

All day she worked; no lover lent
His aid; and yet with glee
At dusk she sought her home, content,
That beauteous Bumble Bee.

A cell it was, nor more nor less.
But O! all's one to me
Whether you write it with an S,
Dear girl, or with a C.

April 1st.

N.B. The motto for this ought to be, "For she was a water-rat."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

MELCOMBE.

"In the pleasant orchard closes
'God bless all our gains,' say we,
But, 'May God bless all our losses,'
Better suits with our degree"

E.B. BROWNING.

The shade of twilight was but just fleeting, a faint glow waxed over the
eastern hills, and the great orchard of pear-trees that pressed up to
one end of Melcombe House showed white as an army of shrouded ghosts in
the dim solemnities of dawn. The house was closely shut up, and no one
met Valentine, as, tired after a night journey, he dismissed a h