ch haunts as the Mabille grow so noisy
that the police is generally obliged to interfere. There was a time
when, on these occasions, that jolly nobleman, the duke of Hamilton,
then a prominent figure on the French turf, did not disdain to lead his
followers to the battle in person, and to practise the noble art of
boxing upon all comers, whether policemen or bookmakers. But these
deeds of former days are now but traditions: His Grace has married,
which is said to have taught him wisdom, and the bookmakers have grown
into millionaires, with a sense of the gravity becoming their
position.--L. LEJEUNE.

MRS. PINCKNEY'S GOVERNESS

The short October day had come to an end. It had been one of those
soft, misty, delicious days common enough at this season of the year.
The gathering darkness perplexed the young girl who, without maid or
escort of any kind, stood peering through the gloom at the little
way-station. Discouraged, apparently, at the result of her search, she
entered the station-house, and inquired, in rather a depressed voice,
if they knew whether Mrs. Pinckney had sent a carriage or vehicle of
any kind for her: "she was expected," she added.

Youth and good looks are naturally effective, and the young Irishman in
authority there, Michael Redmond, was by no means insensible to their
influence. He darted out with an air of alacrity, returning, however,
almost immediately with the depressing information that Mrs. Pinckney's
carriage was not there. "She went herself to the city this morning,
madam," he said, with an effort at consolation. "Perhaps in her absence
the servants have forgotten--" Here he paused.

"It is very unfortunate," she murmured, evidently not accustomed to
such emergencies. Nature, however, although ill-seconded by her
previous life, had given her both courage and decision. "Is there
nothing here which I can hire? is there nobody to drive me to Mrs.
Pinckney's?"

"I'll see, madam," returned the young man.

Why he used the term "madam," which was undoubtedly misplaced, toward
so youthful a person, is only to be explained by an idea he had of
exaggerated respect, a kind of protection apparently to her loneliness
and helplessness.

He darted headlong out again into the darkness. "There is a boy here
with an open wagon, madam," returning almost as quickly as he went out.
"It is not an elegant conveyance, but--" and he hesitated--"it is the
only one."

"Oh, it will do, thank you: anyt