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grew delighted with Percy, whom he charac- | of. Once more alone with the charming being terized as a young man of sound good sense, Sir, no nonsense about him, thoroughly straightforward, and knows what he's about. This was very high praise from Major Morrison, who often remarked that " one half of the world didn't seem to know what they were about!"


The great attraction in the eyes of Percy Dalton, however, was not the conversation or the good chess-playing of the Major, or the elaborate dinners or liberal entertainments at Daleford house; a greater inducement than all this to renew his visits dwelt in the bright eyes and smiling face of Katie Morrison, for whom Percy Dalton cared a great deal more at this time than he wished his friends to believe; more even than he believed himself.

who had turned quiet, sensible Percy Dalton into a dreamer and wholesale waster of time, my friend felt all his love rushing up in an governable stream; but, as often happens under similar circumstances, his flow of words was by no means abundant: in fact, Percy stammered, hesitated, and talked common-places to such a degree, that the fair Kate began to be quite vexed with her lover's stupidity, and rose to summon her sister; but the fates had determined other things for Percy Dalton than to be introduced on that occasion to Mary Morrison; she bad gone out for a short stroll, the servant said, and Percy, after summoning up all his courage to make a tender speech at parting and, having failed miserably, took his leave, very little satisfied with his visit, and more in love than ever.

It is possible, that, had both the sisters been at Daleford house, Percy might have escaped his destiny for a time; but Mary was absent, with a distant relation, and would not rejoin her sister and uncle, until after their return to town.

Frequent and oft-repeated visits to Daleford House, archery meetings, and pic-nics, in sight of golden corn-fields of our fairest county, long evenings spent over the piano and harp, all these combinations of pleasant circumstances quickly brought Percy Dalton to that state of mind when people begin to look long at the moon on retiring to bed at night, to write bad verses, wherein the facile rhymes "trees and breeze," ," "silver light and silent night," are made to do duty in every other line. Alas! for human expectations! Just when Dalton was in ecstasies of delight at his good fortune, and thought, "good easy man," that his fortunes 66 were a ripening," in very truth-Puff! a word of the Major's blows away his rose-tinted chateau en Espagne, and he has said "goodbye," in an ordinary tone of voice, and seen them to the railway carriage before he can collect his senses and feel the full extent of his bereavement. However, the Major has said, "Remember, Mr. Dalton, we shall always be glad to see you at Twickenham ;" and with this invitation to comfort him, Percy was obliged to remain, kept much against his inclination by matters of business, and as men usually do under such circumstances, took every opportunity of making himself supremely miserable, and began to think that calling Kent "the garden of England" was a piece of utter absurdity.

At length, however the wished-for time of departure arrived, and my friend returned to London, and thence proceeded as soon as possible to Twickenham. He found that the Major resided in a pretty villa, whose well-kept garden sloped down to the bright waters of the Thames, looking as unlike as possible to the black, grimy river which rolls under London Bridge. Major Morrison received Percy very warmly, but was soon obliged to take his departure to town, leaving Kate to entertain her visitor, an arrangement which the said visitor highly approved

Percy, except one, when he saw, as he believed,
Some days passed, which were dies non to
Kate Morrison riding in the park, attended
lady, and could not be but surprised by her
only by a servant. He was very near to the
manner of returning his bow. She started,
flushed crimson, and nearly losing the reins in
her agitation, her horse swerved violently, and
had some difficulty in checking.
then set off at a sharp canter, which the rider

have been startled at my sudden appearance, or "Very odd this," thought Percy; "she must

else she can't be accustomed to meet friends when riding. However, it's a favourable symptom, I trust !"

Meanwhile the lady pursued her ride, and on reaching home the groom remarked:

"I think you must have dropped your reins, Miss Mary, in the park; I never saw the mare start off like that before!"

"Yes, it was my fault, Thomas," answered the young lady, in some confusion; poor Bessie is not to blame."

room, and the young lady's agitation was now Mary Morrison retired at once to her own trembled as she drew a letter from her pocket, very evident; her cheek was pale, and her hand a letter which had been put privately into her hand that morning, and the contents of which were these:



"I cannot forbear writing to you, even at the risk of your displeasure, and the still greater risk of detection; my one and only excuse is that I am once more in England, once more in the same land with her for whom I live! I shall try to see you, dearest, the day after you will receive this letter. If the business of my employers can be tranacted in one day, as I doubt not it will be, I shall once more have the inexpressible delight of gazing on the face which has been my only vision of happiness during my stay in India. Try, dearest Mary, to arrange a meeting towards five o'clock in the

afternoon, near the old hawthorn walk in the | to her side, and clasped her hand with all the garden.

ardour of a lover.


'Ever, my dearest Mary, your most devoted, "EDWARD OAKLEY."


soon so unexpectedly!" murmured Mary, half aloud, as she read this letter for the twentieth time at least; but my eyes must have deceived me to-day; it is impossible; my brain must he turned by this sudden news.


It was with feverish anxiety that Mary Morrison awaited the following day all the morning she was busy in contriving plans to remove the worthy Major from the scene of action; with her sister she had a half confidence, but had never fully disclosed her secret, the only one which was preserved between the sisters.

Major Morrison innocently frustrated several wily stratagems of his niece, who had suggested that he looked poorly, and ought to ride out towards Hampton Court for an airing: No, the Major said he had never felt better in his life, and didn't care to ride while the close weather lasted. Mary was in despair, when at last a visitor arrived to lunch, who insisted upon taking the whole party back in his carriage to inaugurate the game of croquet, which his daughters had just become acqnainied with. Mary with difficulty excused berself on the plea of a headache, and had the satisfaction of seeing the Major and Kate depart in the chariot of the parental fosterer of croquet.

Towards the appointed tims Mary entered the garden, and, with hasty steps and flushed cheek, paced up and down the hawthorn walk, which was screened from the house by a thick hedge. Nearly two years had passed since Edward Oakley had sailed for India. He had, before that time, been a frequent visitor at the Morrison's house, but, althongh the Major had treated him with politeness and attention, he by means approved of the marked attention which Oakley bestowed upon his niece Mary, and the young man's departure for India to at


tend to some business connected with his father's large and flourishing firm, was looked on by Major Morrison as a very excellent measure, calculated to save a great deal of trouble and annoyance to himself and every one else.

Meanwhile Percy Dalton had felt, or pretended that he felt so uneasy at Miss Morrison's alarm on the previous day, that nothing short of a visit to Twickenham could calm the state of anxiety under which he laboured. He accordingly started by an afternoon train from London, and, as if some mischievous Puck had so arranged it, he approached the dwelling of the Morrisons a few minutes before five o'clock.

On arriving at the garden gate he at once beheld a lady, whom he recognized as the fair equestrian of the previous day. the previous day. On perceiving Dalton, she uttered a half-surprised cry, blushed crimson, and hastened towards him. Such an open demonstration was not to be mistaken. Dalton flung open the gate, darted

"I trust," he said, after a few moments of very expressive silence, "I trust that you were not ill yesterday; I fear I startled your horse!" "No, not ill-only surprised, a little agitated at your sudden apparition!" replied Mary. "But come," she added, seeing that her lover was silent; "you must have so much to tell me that has passed since our last meeting!"

It was but a week, thought Percy, but answered

"My life is not an eventful one, and apart from you it is a blank."

After taking a few more turns in the path, during which Mary had made up her mind that India had considerably altered her lover, both in manner and appearance; poor Percy, who had been screwing uphiscourage to the sticking point, at length said, rather abruptly—

"Miss Morrison, we have known each other

long enough for you to have seen that my feelings towards you are not those of a mere friend -one who comes and goes, sees you, and perhaps never thinks of you until the next meeting; during the time I have known you you have taken a fixed place in the heart of one, who although all unworthy of you, cannot exist longer in suspense. Tell me my fate now; if you delay, you are but being cruel to be kind!"

After making this speech, which was not so bad considering Percy's previous remarks, he managed to elicit a very favourable response from the young lady, who however dwelt strongly on her Uncle's consent being necessary, and not very easy to obtain.

"Never fear, dearest;" exclaimed the now enthusiastic Percy; "he has never shown himself other than friendly towards me, and tomorrow if you will let me, I will come and put the case before him in such a light, that I think I shall take his defences by a coup de main?"

So it was arranged, and Percy departed in a state of delightful insanity which led him to perpetrate unheard-of absurdities, among which was the presentation of half a sovereign to the railway porter, full in sront of the company's regulations to the contrary. On the following day Percy Dalton presented himself at the house which had become his magnet of attraction, and inquired for the Major and the young ladies. He was told that the Major was out, but was expected home shortly; that Miss Mary was engaged with a visitor, but that Miss Kate would receive him. On entering the drawingroom which was divided from a front room by closed folding doors, Percy was received by Kate, thohigh by no means so enthusiastically as he expected; in fact, the memory of the previous day seemed to have quite evaporated.

"We have not seen you for some time, Mr. Dalton; we thought you were going to desert us," were the first words which greeted the astonished Percy.

"Miss Morrison, Katie, may I not call you so? Can you have forgotten our conversation of

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Kate Morrison's fair cheek crimsoned with displeasure at what she considered Percy's unwarrantable impertinence; rising haughtily, she said, "You presume, sir, upon the influence you imagine you have exercised over me; I have been weak enough to show my folly, but I am strong enough to tell you that I find I have mistaken you for an honourable man and gentleman, and that from this time we must be strangers!"


She moved towards the door. Percy had sprung to his feet to hazard an explanation, when a merry peal of laughter was heard from the adjoining room, the folding doors were thrown open, and Mary Morrison entered, accompanied by a gentleman who shaded his face with his hand, as though the light affected him. Percy Dalton stood like one thunderstruck, for side by side the sisters were so exactly alike, that but for the angry flush which still flitted across Kate's fair cheek he could not have distinguished them.

In a moment the truth flashed upon him; he had made his declaration to the wrong sister. "Miss Mary, for Heaven's sake explain this contre-temps," said poor Percy.


"I will," replied Mary, laughing, and rather confused; "we have been playing a second "Comedy of Errors,' and the denouement might have ended in a tragedy. This comes, my dear Kate, of not trusting each other with our secrets; we both concealed our little romance, and now it has grown into a perfect maze of confusion. Allow me, in the first place, to introduce Mr. Edward Oakley to you, Mr. Dalton; though, bythe-bye, I have not yet been introduced to Mr. Dalton himself."


The stranger approached, and Percy, who had started on hearing his name, exclaimed, What, Oakley ! My other-self,' as you were called at school! now the whole mystery is clear!"


Explanations followed, and Kate, who for a time pretended to be greatly offended at her lover's want of perception, at length consented to ratify the agreement into which her sister had entered for her, while Oakley prevailed upon Mary to make a new one in his favour.

The Major on his arrival insisted upon both gentlemen staying to dinner, and when the ladies had retired, the old gentleman was brought to the very brink of apoplexy by the recital of the lovers' mistakes.

The NEW QUEEN's theatre has met with a success, as extraordinary with its drama of "The Turn of the Tide" as the Drury Lane triumph with "Formosa." A critic is divested of his authority when the public pronounce miriad-voiced their gratification with and approval of the amusements provided for them. But we may be allowed still to speculate on the causes of the success of the prevalent and newest form of melo-drama. One of the causes,

"Egad!" he exclaimed, when returning breath suffered him to speak. "Egad, you fellows are wonderfully alike; if it wasn't for Dalton's moustache I'm not sure I could tell which was which now. And if you really run off with my nieces, as I suppose you must, one of you must go abroad, or there'll be no end of bother and confusion !"


Dalton acted on this very sound advice, and as Oakley and Mary chose to remain in England, Percy and Kate sailed for India, where they will doubtless have many a laugh at the story of their "Double Love ?"

indeed the first cause, is the realism of such pieces as "Formosa" and "The Turn of the Tide." It has been discovered by experienced playwrights, that a built-up scene on the stage of a railway station, a steamboat station, a rookery with the parish pump of a low neighbourhood distinctly visible, will have attractions for an audience. If Mr. Burnand's drama of "The Turn of the Tide" had been produced at the old Coburg theatre thirty years ago, it would have had the usual run of the fortyshilling dramas of the period. But now the obscurities of melo-drama must be heightened

into lurid effect by the aid of gas-reflectors and the lime-light, in order that the public may witness the particular sensational scene. Mr. Burnand's new drama is founded on one of the popular novels of the day, entitled "May Fair;" and we know that it is a pretty close adaptation of the scenes of that very pretentious novel of fashionable life. But the tale of Miss Edward's offered but little in its mawkish dialogue that could be used by the stage-adapter. Only in the plot and a few faintly-drawn characters could "May Fair" have proved of any value to "The Turn of the Tide." But whatever the merits or demerints of the novel, it was necessary to place it on the stage with the adjunct of some startling scenes; and these, we presume, Mr. Burnand, Mr. Gordon, the scene-painter, and the carpenter of the theatre, put their heads together to supply. Like most plays of the day, Mr. Burnand's latest production at the Queen's is not remarkable for much brilliance of dialogue or skill in developing character. In fact, the earlier portions of the piece would be quite as effective without the dialogue. Even the boudoir scene, between Earnscliffe and his wife, would lose little, if anything, by being acted in dumb show. It is only in the later scenes, especially when the Danby family appear on the stage, that the development of character is at all dependent on the language of the speakers; and even then, much of the result is due to the effective bye-play of such finished artists as Mr. and Mrs. Frank Matthews. Still the piece may be called a real success. It contains some very effective scenes and stirring situations, to the full expression of which the scene-painter has contributed a material share. Mr. Gordon will not easily outdo the magic beauty of his handiwork in the Cave of Morgane, or the rural picturesqueness of the Village of Trachsel. The rescue of the lovers from the tide-flooded cave, forms an excellent theme for the tableau that ends the first act.

numerous, are

Nothing quite so exciting follows, unless it be the final appearance of the dying lady, Clara Earnscliffe; a very convenient solution of the knot which has hitherto marred the course of Marguerite's true love. From first to last "The Turn of the Tide" is never allowed to flag; everything goes off trippingly; there are no violent surprises, and the characters, though generally well-defined. The acting was only moderately good. Mr. H. Vezin makes a respectable part of Earnscliffe and don't rant. Mr. Nelson, as Neville, is easy and natural. Mr. Rider has evidently studied the part of the worthy, awkward-moving, quiet-spoken Doctor. Miss Young would do more justice, we think, to a more interesting or a more consistent type of character, than the perverse-minded Lady Clara. Miss Hodson, as Marguerite, was fresh and charming, with youth and grace to support her in the performance of the heroine. Mr. and Mrs. Frank Matthews, in their humorous rendering of Mr. and Mrs. Danby, gave a new life and buoyancy to the later acts of the piece;

they, as usual, were an excellent foil for each other: he, all stolidity above a flow of quiet humour; she, a finished caricature, if it were a caricature, of a rampant, domineering, manyworded, middle-class matron.

The GAIETY theatre continues to flourish with its well-selected performances. Besides reviving Mr. Robertson's fine comedy of "Dreams," Mr. Hollingshead has produced a new burlesqueextravaganza, or opera buffa, on the subject of the opera Linda da Chamouni. But the satirical part of the travestie is directed against the Drury Lane "Formosa" and its author, Mr. Boucicault. It might have been as well had Mr. A. Thompson stuck to his song-writing and left his prejudices behind him, when he brought forward his new burlesque at the Gaiety. Setting aside impertinences, the piece contains enough and to spare of those necessary elements of theatrical air and life, song and dance, to secure complete success. The new "Formosa" is splendidly mounted and charmingly acted by a strong burlesque company, with the enchanting and versatile Miss E. Farren at their head.

The GLOBE theatre has been re-opened with a new drama, the title of which is "Progress," which we propose to notice in our next feuilleton.

The STRAND theatre is crowded nightiy, illventilated, and redolent of "an ancient and a fish-like smell;" consequently, the audiences are drawn to the little "band-box," stimulated by the hope of participating in the laughing gas, which Mrs. Swanborough takes care to turn on upon her public with unstinting hand.

To those of our readers who prefer the day amusements to the regular theatres, we recommend a visit to MADAME TUSSAUD'S, where their eyes will be regaled with the on view, in magnificent court dresses now addition to all the other amusements.

The POLYTECHNIC, in Regent-street, also possesses many attractions, that are usually enhanced in novelty after the autum season.

The ALHAMBRA, in Leicester-square, is well worth visiting, on account of the abundance of singing and dancing supplied by a well-managed establishment, that is altogether superior to the E. H. MALCOLM. genus music-hall.

TEMPER.-What one values above every other consideration in a companion, man or woman, is amiableness, that is to say, evenness of temper, and the willingness to please, and be pleased without egotism, and without exaction. There is nothing capable of supplying its place.-Leigh Hunt,



MATERIALS.-Fine knitting cotton of Messrs. Walter Evans & Co., Derby, and steel needles.

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Cast on seven stitches,, slip 1, knit 6, repeat this for 11 rows, then cast off 6 stitches, turn the needle with one stitch on it, and cast on 6 stitches; repeat from *, till you have done a yard and a half, sew the stripes together, and work a row of single crochet in black 4-thread fleecy over the seams, add a tassel at each end


MATERIALS.-Half a pound each of crimson, maize, green, and violet 12-thread fleecy, six ounces of black 4-thread fleecy, and a pair of Pricesse's pins, No. 2 are required.

This petticoat is worked in stripes, the coloured ones running down, and the white ones



9th.-5 plain, 2 together, plain 1, till 7 are left. 2 together, 5 plain. 10th.-Purl all.

For the narrow stripes, cast on thirty stitches with the white wool.

Continue 9 and 10 alternately until 4 ribs are formed, there will then be only 10 stitches on the needle; narrow these in the centre one till only one remains. Fasten off,

1st row.-Purl all the stitches. After the 1st row always slip the first stitch of each row. 2nd.-Knit all the stitches plain. 3rd.-Purl all the stitches.

4th and 5th.-Knit both rows all plain. 6th.-Purl all the stitches. 7th.-Knit plain. 8th.-Purl all the stitches. These 8 rows form the pattern, and are to be repeated for three-quarters of a yard; then work 9 patterns more, but each time the 2nd


MATERIALS.-Three-quarters of a pound of coloured and one pound white 4-ply fleecy; a pair of knitting pins, No. 2 for the edge.

of the stripes. The colours to be joined in the following order: crimson, maize, violet, green.

This is also very pretty for a quilt in cotton, for which three pounds of 6 4-thread knitting cotton, of Messrs. Walter Evans & Co., Derby, must be procured.

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