y the
verger to gaze upon the beauties of this wonderful relic and tremble, we
were obliged to gaze also upon the beauties of the aforesaid nice young
man, who was sketching it. As we turned to go away, aunt Celia dropped
her bag. It is one of those detestable, all-absorbing, all-devouring,
thoroughly respectable, but never proud Boston bags, made of black cloth
with leather trimmings, "C. Van T." embroidered on the side, and the top
drawn up with stout cords which pass over the Boston wrist or arm. As
for me, I loathe them, and would not for worlds be seen carrying one,
though I do slip a great many necessaries into aunt Celia's.

I hastened to pick up the horrid thing, for fear the nice young man would
feel obliged to do it for me; but, in my indecorous haste, I caught hold
of the wrong end and emptied the entire contents on the stone flagging.
Aunt Celia didn't notice; she had turned with the verger, lest she should
miss a single word of his inspired testimony. So we scrambled up the
articles together, the nice young man and I; and oh, I hope I may never
look upon his face again!

There were prayer-books and guide-books, a bottle of soda mint tablets, a
spool of dental floss, a Bath bun, a bit of gray frizz that aunt Celia
pins into her steamer cap, a spectacle case, a brandy flask, and a bonbon
box, which broke and scattered cloves and cardamom seeds. (I hope he
guessed aunt Celia is a dyspeptic, and not intemperate!) All this was
hopelessly vulgar, but I wouldn't have minded anything if there had not
been a Duchess novel. Of course he thought that it belonged to me. He
couldn't have known aunt Celia was carrying it for that accidental Mrs.
Benedict, with whom she went to St. Cross Hospital.

After scooping the cardamom seeds out of the cracks in the stone
flagging, he handed me the tattered, disreputable-looking copy of "A
Modern Circe" with a bow that wouldn't have disgraced a Chesterfield, and
then went back to his easel, while I fled after aunt Celia and her
verger.

Memoranda: The Winchester Cathedral has the longest nave. The inside is
more superb than the outside. Izaak Walton and Jane Austen are buried
there.

HE

WINCHESTER, _May_ 28, 1891
The White Swan.

As sure as my name is Jack Copley, I saw the prettiest girl in the world
to-day,--an