had previously seen, opened the door, saying, smilingly, "Step in, Mr. Esmond, sir," and leading the way once more to the Doctors' sanctum she threw open the door and announced

me.

The doctor and another gentleman rose with alacrity on my entrance.

Dr. Woodford looked suavity itself; his countenance beamed with more than the stereotyped smile with which he had welcomed me when he believed he saw in me a patient. Strange that the thought occurred to me to wonder what it was he saw in me now.

"How fortunate that my telegram reached you!" were his first words. "It was just a chance, my dear sir-a most lucky chance. Allow me to introduce Mr. Septimus Hall, of the well-known firm of Hall and Son, solicitors, London. Mr. Hall-Mr. Esmond."

Mr. Hall was a stout florid old gentleman, who looked about seventy. He did not seem satisfied with merely bowing on our introduction, but said emphatically:

"I am very glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Esmond. Allow me the pleasure of shaking you by the hand.”

More of the Northumbrian than the Londoner about him, I thought, impressed with the warmth of his greeting.

"And now a glass of sherry before you proceed to business."

It was the doctor who spoke, as he motioned me to a chair next the old gentleman's, and without waiting for an answer poured some wine from a decanter that stood at his elbow, and bowing moved the glass towards me.

"Drink it up, my dear young friend, it will nerve and strengthen you. That's right," said Mr. Hall, rubbing his hands together. "Ah! Now we will proceed to business."

He pulled his chair closer to the table, put on his spectacles, and taking up a folded sheet of parchment smoothed it out caressingly before him; then he continued: "We lawyers occasionally have a pleasant task, Mr. Esmond -mine at this moment is a peculiarly pleasant one, for I have to inform you that you have just come into a nice little property-a very nice little property, my dear young friend." "It seems incredible! I am all in the dark!" I laughed.

sure there is no mistake-no mistake in names, for instance?"

"There's not a screw loose anywhere. Here's the will. I drew it up myself. It is dated, signed, sealed, and witnessed. Half-a-dozen lines only-but I tell you there is not a more legal document in all Doctors Commons!"

Come, Mr. Hall, tell him the story," put in the doctor-" and, might I beg, or at least suggest, that you make it as short as is consistent with-"

"A week ago," began the old gentleman, drawing a long breath, "or rather, to be more accurate, eight days ago, my head clerk came into my private office, and said a lady wanted to see me on business, if I was disengaged. I was disengaged, and had the lady admitted-a pleasant-looking young person of, say, seven or eight-and-twenty. She was dressed in plain sensible kind of mourning, without a bit of superfluous ornament about her. She was quite an unfashionable person was Miss Hewson. She produced some documents from a travelling bag, which, she said, related to property recently left to her mother; but, her mother having since died, was now hers. Would I take the deeds into my keeping for a short time? The fact is,' said this plain spoken young woman, 'I am going to be married in a fortnight. I do not consider it desirable to delay my marriage on account of mourning, for I am all alone in the world. In a fortnight's time my husband can do with those deeds what he pleases. In the meantime, will you take care of them? I assented. 'I am going to marry a Mr. Parkinson, a Manchester merchant.' She volunteered this statement quite naturally. Wealthy?' I asked. 'He is very well off,' she answered, in that frank outspoken way that seemed natural to her, and made me think what a nice homely cheerful wife the young man would get. So thinking, I looked at her again more narrowly. Suddenly-I cannot tell how the idea occurred to me, nor, when it did occur, why I gave utterance to it, but-looking her straight in the face, I said quite gravely: 'My dear young lady, have you made your will? My will!' cried she, staring in astonishment, 'why, haven't I told you I am to be married in a fortnight? No will I might make now would be of any use after I have a husband.' 'That is so,' I said, 'but all the same, my advice to you is, make your will. I am an old man, and have lived to know some strange things happen.' Well, gentlemen," continued Mr. Hall, looking from me to Dr. Woodford, who, of course, was hearing the story for the second time, "as I said before, I cannot account for the persistency with which I urged Miss Hewson to make her will, but it ended by her consenting to make it

I

'None that I care for who are in want of anything.' After a pause, she said, suddenly, "There was a widow who lived next door to us years ago at Twickenham; she had a girl and boy; I believe they were very poor, but they were quite gentlefolks. I have neither heard of nor thought of them for many a year. wonder what put them into my head now? I have no objection to making them my heirsmy heirs for a fortnight! Will that satisfy you?' It did, and the names of Arthur and Katherine Esmond were inserted where I had left the space in drawing out the will; and so, after the requisite signing and witnessing were done, the business part of the transaction ended. I never saw the poor young lady more. She went down to Rowburn, a few days afterwards, in company with a hired companion, to see the property. On the journey she was seized with illness-synecope of the heart it proved-and when the train arrived at Rowburn Station, she was lifted from the railway carriage-dead."

Mr. Hall here took out his handkerchief and blew his nose violently. "Excuse me gentlemen," he said presently, as he wiped his spectacles before replacing them on his nose. "Even a lawyer can't help having a little bit of feeling."

Then we went deep into the study of the bundle of documents which poor Miss Hewson had so lightly deposited with Mr. Hall only eight days before; for a considerable time we were so occupied, but at the conclusion of their perusal, when he had made numerous rows of figures and calculations on a piece of paper by his side, Mr. Hall oracularly announced that the value of the property which had now come to me could not be set down at less than £2,000 a year.

The business finished, I was shown upstairs to attend to my toilet, for it must be remembered that I had not yet had an opportunity to brush off the dust of my journey. I did not, however, waste any unnecessary time, especially as Dr. Woodford had said, with his suavest manner on leaving me : "Do you see the door opposite my sanctum? That is the drawing room. Go in there when you are ready, and will find-well, I won't you what say will find, go and see."

you

A few minutes later I was turning the handle of that door.

A scent of mignonette and roses greeted me

Twining her dear arms around my neck, between smiles and tears of joy, she cried-I, the while kissing her rapturously-" O, Arthur! you said you would soon return, but-we never dreamed we should meet so soon as this-What happiness!"

THE END.

CLOUDLAND.

BY L. TURNBULL.

Come, let us fly, rejoicing thought,
To scan protean skies,
Where fancy may have angels brought
Ideal to our eyes;
And gaze in ecstacy of mind

On pictured ether land-
Where many breathings of the wind
Sway the enchanter's hand.

Vast dome, entire empyreal blue,
Grand ocean, pure and still—
It whispers of the calm and true,
Suggests a steadfast will!
But soon in fickle forms appear
The "cirrhi's" feathered spray,
Conducting branches far and near-
Pure white and denser grey.

Like waving ferns in pencilled threads,
As trees divinely traced,

A fairy web its network spreads
In fleecy trellis laced!
Not two alike these ærial views,

In wondrous haste to change-
Just now a city thought reviews,
Anon, a mountain range.

Of bridges, arches, avenues,
A transformation scene,
Nor can our dreaming sense refuse
That spirits flit between!
They fade, and snow white billows wave
In ever varying light,

And tinted sunrays dipping, lave
Their glories, else too bright.

Again, behold a fibrous cloud!

And shoals of fishes swim-
"Tis surely true? We see them crowd!
A moment-all is dim;
And dense becomes the air and dark,
For "nimbus" rules the land,
Obscures the light of heaven's arc,
And frowns upon the strand.

A lurid glare, a fearful flash!

Forth from the blackness torn-
Nor silent, for with awful crash
An awful voice is born.

Yet wilder-Oh! how grand and great
This passion of the sky-
We tremble-till the wide flood gate
Drops storm tears from on high.

At length, a dazzling sight renews,
The sombrous tide has fled!

The clouds are drenched in radiant hues
Of burnished gold and red;

And far abroad, in swathes of light,
Each softened colour blends-

Or, waved with silver, meets the night
Whose slumber shade impends.

REMINISCENCES

OF A COMMERCIAL TRAVELLER.

$$

MY FIRST JOURNEY. PART II.

REAKFASTLESS I began my day's work, and succeeded in selling two tons of brown paper at £20 per ton. I wrote at mid-day to my esteemed employers, telling them of my morning's work, and then packed up and made for Milltown. There I engaged a show room, laid out my goods, with the help of Mr. Boots, who, like all the members of his fraternity, was extremely civil and obliging, in view of the expected half-crown. I made a rapid dinner and went out. Having perambulated the streets up and down, trying to find the booksellers and stationers, I made several engagements for the evening. I did a good stroke of business before bed time, having made entries in my order book of over £70. Among the merchants who promised to give me a call was one old fellow who did a wholesale trade in the "penny dreadfuls," sheet songs and ballads, twopenny song books, the Police News, and cheap stationery. I had some lines to offer specially suitable for his trade, and waited for him several evenings. I made repeated calls for him. He was very dirty looking, and seemed to be an entire stranger to soap and water; his linen was particularly unattractive, not having seen the washing tub, I should say, for several weeks. His hands were as ebony, wanting the polish. This merchant had a capital business, confined principally to small shopkeepers and tramps, so that his shop was seldom without a crowd of customers. After many promises, made only to be broken, and after many visits, I finally gave him up in despair. But I did very well among the smaller tradesmen, who bought several large parcels, and finished my first week on the road by making a grand total of £257. I sent my orders regularly each night, and remitted the cash on hand at con

Messrs. T. and O. observe that Mr. Brown's expenses have amounted to 15s. 5d., which is most extravagant, and the cashier has debited Mr. Brown with the amount in excess to this, Messrs. T. and C. notice that Mr. of the sum allowed, viz., 3s. 44d. In addition Brown has allowed to Mr. Higgins, of Perth, 6d. more than the usual 2 per cent., which sum has also been charged to the traveller. Further, there is 1s. 2d. allowed for boxes, to have been. This, also, Mr. Brown must pay for. Mr. Tommy Dod, of Milltown, which should not Messrs. Tooth and Claw trust that there will be no such irregularities in the future. This time they are merely charged to Mr. Brown's debit, but should this occur again, Mr. Brown will have to try and get another place, as Messrs. Tooth and Claw, will most certainly look for another traveller."

This complimentary epistle annoyed me exceedingly, but I did not reply to it I felt there was no use my showing temper, so I kept the elegant production until the shades of evening fell, and then I lighted my pipe with it, and amid clouds of the best Bird's Eye, for the time being, my troubles disappeared.

From Milltown, I proceeded to Brotherstone and Mountflowers, where I had a long interview with a man called "Scotelly John." He sold everything from penny song books to oil paintings, and was a rare worthy. I think he opened his mouth the widest and laughed the loudest of any gentleman I have had the privilege of knowing. He paid his account at once, but was particular as to the discounts. I had a pleasant interview with him: he sent me away rejoicing with an order for £30—of our own stuff, and if Scotelly John still lives and these lines should meet his eye, he may be happy in thus being held up in grateful remembrance.

From Mountflowers I pushed on to Aberdeen the Granite City-the capital of the North of Scotland. I had often heard of Union Street, and the beauties of the Northern Metropolis, but was quite unprepared for the grandeur of the city. Union Street is, next to Princes Street, Edinburgh, the finest street in Scotland. Built entirely of granite from the Peterhead and other quarries, and standing entirely on the level, Union Street, with its lofty houses, after the best models of ancient architecture, interspersed with fine shops, superb offices, is indeed, perfect and sublime. At the head are the Municipal Buildings, rising like a Monarch to the skies, while the beautiful screen of solid masonry fronting St. Nicholas' Church, is a poem in stone.

I was told that I would find the inhabitants of Aberdeen very difficult to deal with, close fisted, hard as nails, keen in buying, and most particular as to liberal terms. My experi

ence was the very opposite. I found them thoroughly alive to a good bargain, but by no means over-reaching. There was one old merchant whom I had special pleasure in doing business with, Mr. Lewis Smith, and as he has recently gone over to the "great majority," I may, without reservation, put a few notes down regarding him. He was between 70 and 80 years of age when I first knew him, and was about the oldest merchant in our trade in Aberdeen. I remember him telling me how he waited for the arrival of the first number of Chambers's Journal, for which he was, and his son is still, I believe, the agent; it was in the year 1832, and the first attempt at popular readable literature was looked for with great expectancy. It came, and the Aberdeen public passed a favourable verdict upon it: after passing through such a severe ordeal, its success, of course, was secured and established. Mr. Smith was an agent for Messrs. Pirie and Sons, the celebrated paper-makers, and did a large trade for them. I think, taking him all in all, he was as perfect a traveller as ever existed. Endowed with a pleasant countenance, a fine carriage, a kind and persuasive manner, combined with varied and lengthened experience, united to the highest integrity, he possessed, over a long period of years, the entire confidence of all his brethren in the trade, and when, through failing health, on the verge of 80 years, his periodical visits were discontinued, the loss was felt most keenly, and regarded as the removal of an ancient landmark, and as the passing away of an "old standard."

Another merchant in the neighbourhood of Queen Street inconvenienced himself to give me an order. Although I was a perfect stranger to him I know that he made up a considerable line out of sympathy to me personally, for which I returned him at the time, as I do now, my most hearty thanks.

On Monday morning I received two letters, one on business and the other from home. Of course I read the latter first, which was from my esteemed mother-in-law, Mrs. McCrachen, and ran as follows:

"Dear John,

Mary, my daughter, and your wife, has this morning given birth to a son. Both mother and baby are doing well. His name we have decided shall be John. Yours respectfully,

JANE MCCRACHEN. P.S.-You need not come home, you are better away at this circus."

I gave a silent hip, hip, hurrah, and went on with my breakfast, feeling quite proud and quite paternal. I laid in an extra slice of salmon, and finished an additional cup of tea, in honour of the young gentleman. Notwithstanding the curt intimation of my excellent mother-in-law, that my absence was better than

Glasgow.

To

Mr. John Brown, Victoria Hotel, Aberdeen.

Our Mr. Thick will be in Aberdeen to-day, and, as you lesson in your various duties. He is a man of ripe are such an amateur traveller, he purposes to give you a experience, and we trust you will profit by his suggestions. Mr. Thick has our full confidence, and goes north to see you from motives of pure benevolence.

This intimation set me fluttering. I ran to my show room and gave it an extra dusting, and tidied it up as I am sure it has never been dusted and arranged before or since, as I had reason to dread Mr. Thick, with his ripe experience and pure benevolence.

I saw some customers in the morning, and booked a few odd lines, and then went to the train to meet the gentleman. I was just in time. The engine came dashing in, and I found my friend seated in a third-class carriage. As I got up to him, he was hiding the end of a twopenny cigar. I found the deputy from the firm was not wrongly named. He was a small man, but with a paunch of enormous dimensions; his visual organs were small, keen, penetrating, and suspicious; his nasal protuberance beamed with a ruddiness which told of many potations, while his thick lips and coarse cheeks completed the "human face divine." I approached him respectfully. He knew me at once, and in a magnificent manner extended one finger for me to shake hands with; from that moment I instinctively hated Mr. Thick. I would have preferred if the fellow had only bowed. I lay it down as a fixed rule that the man who only gives you one finger is a fool, and is very likely

to be a knave. We went to the hotel and had dinner. I am glad to say that "our Mr. Thick" was quite at home at the meal; he went in for a second serving of everything. When dinner was over we retired to the show room, which he found fault with for being too neat. "You cannot keep your room so tidy as it is, and do a good trade; give me a little untidiness and roughness, and samples somewhat disarranged, and then I know a man is working." I answered him never a word, but allowed him to go on with his fault-finding for fully an hour. He was like the man 1 once remember of reading about, who was heard saying to himself, as he went home, "If the