are not in your _lubies_ about the Past and the Future. We wanted
you, we conspired; and, Catiline having stolen you at Noisy, Cethigus
tucked you into a car with the intention of making use of you at
Schaffhausen."

"Never! I have the strongest vows that ever man uttered not to
revisit the Rhine. It is an affair of early youth, a solemn promise, a
consecration. You have got me at Strasburg, but you will not carry me
to Schaffhausen."

He was so contrite that I had to console him. Letting him know that no
great harm was done, I saw him depart with his friends for Bale. For
my part, I remained with the engineer, whose professional duties, such
as they were, kept him for a short time in the capital of Alsace. In
his turn, however, the latter took leave of me: we were to meet each
other shortly.

It was seven in the morning. This time, to be sure of my enemy the
railroad, I procured a printed Guide. But the Guide was a sorry
counselor for my impatience. The first train, an express, had left:
the next, an accommodation, would start at a quarter to one. I had
five hours and three-quarters to spare.

One of the greatest pleasures in life, according to my poor opinion,
is to have a recreation forced on one. Some cherub, perhaps, cleared
the cobwebs away from my brain that morning; but, however it might be,
I was glad of everything. I was glad the "champanions" were departed,
glad I had a stolen morning in Strasburg, glad that Hohenfels and my
domestics would be uneasy for me at Marly.

In such a mood I applied myself to extract the profit out of my
detention in the city.

EDWARD STRAHAN.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

TWO MOODS.

All yesterday you were so near to me,
It seemed as if I hardly moved or spoke
But your heart moved with mine. I woke
To a new life that found you everywhere,
As if your love was as some wide-girt sea,
Or as the sunlit air;
And so encompassed me,
Whether I thought or not, it could not but be there.

To-day your words approve me, and your heart
Is mine as ever, yet that heavenly sense
Of oneness that made every hour intense
With Love's full perfectness, is gone from thence;
And, though our hands are clasped, our souls are two,
And in my thoughts I say, "This is myself--this you!"

MARY STEWART DOUBLEDAY.

THE RIDE OF PRINCE GERAINT.

The Ride of Prince Geraint.

And Prince Geraint, now thinking that he heard
The noble hart