s papas in books and dramas, but
amicably, as gentlemen should; how merrily the bells pealed for the
double wedding; how I, as _garcon d'honneur_, flirted with the
bridesmaids to my heart's content; how Fane is my friend, _par
excellence_, still, and how his love is all the stronger for having
"come late," he says. How all the young ladies hated Florence, and all
the mammas and chaperones blessed her for having carried off the
"fascinating younger son," until his brother Lord Castleton dying at the
baths, Fane succeeded of course to the title; how she is, if possible,
even more charming as Lady Castleton than as Florence Aspeden, and how
they were _really_ heart-happy until the Crimean campaign separated
them; and how she turns her beautiful eyes ever to the East and heeds
not, save to repulse, the crowd of admirers who seek to render her
forgetful of her soldier-husband.

True wife as she is, may he live to come back with laurels hardly won,
still to hold her his dearest treasure.

_May 1, 1856._--Fane _has_ come back all safe. I hope, dear reader, you
are as glad as I am. He has distinguished himself stunningly, and is now
lieutenant-colonel of the dear old 110th. You have gloried in the charge
of ours at Balaklava, but as I have not whispered to you my name, you
cannot possibly divine that a rascally Russian gave me a cut on the
sword-arm that very day in question, which laid me _hors de combat_, but
got me my majority.

Well may I, as well as Fane, bless the remembrance of Layton Rise, for
if I had never made the acquaintance of Mary Aspeden--I mean Graham--I
might never have known her _belle-soeur_ (who is now shaking her head
at me for writing about her), and whom, either through my interesting
appearance when I returned home on the sick-list, and my manifold
Crimean adventures, or through the usual perversity of women, who will
fall always in love with scamps who do not deserve half their
goodness--(Edith, you shall _not_ look over my shoulder)--I prevailed on
to accept my noble self and Lancer uniform, with the "_puppyism_" shaken
pretty well out of it! And so here we are _very happy of course_.--"As
yet," suggests Edith.

Ah! Fane and I little knew--poor unhappy wretches that we were--what our
fate was preparing for us when it led us discontented _blases_ and
_ennuyes_ down to our Country Quarters!

THE CHALLONERS

BY E. F. BENSON

_12mo. Cloth, $1.50._

The theme is a father's conc