When the game is over for the day, victors and vanquished retire together to the inn, where they allay the enormous appetites engendered by the keen frosty air and their healthy exercise. 'Beef and greens' is the invariable fare-curlers' fare-washed down by copious tumblers of toddy, under the influence of which the battles of the day are fought over again by voluble tongues; old jokes-venerable, but all the better liked for that are retold, and all is mirth and jollity. Strange are the pranks sometimes suggested by the too potent toddy, and many are the stories told of them here is one that takes us back to the ice again, but by night this time:

A large party of Kilmarnock curlers had been playing all day in a match, which they had won. After dinner, while the social glass was being drained, it was proposed that they should again repair to the ice; the hint met with universal approbation. It was about eleven o'clock, and they had to walk a mile in the country to reach the loch. The night was very dark, but a lantern at each tee head guided the player in his delivery; 'the stone,' says the poetic chronicler of this game, 'having left the hand, was heard booming, unseen, along the ice, "startling the night's dull ear," its destination unknown until it dashed among the others around the tee. The stilly calmness of the dark night-the roar of the stones in their progress along the ice-and the screaming and fluttering of flocks of wild water-fowl, startled from the margin of the loch by the unusual intrusion on their haunts, formed a scene of interest and novelty. In these strange circumstances the game was continued with the utmost enthusiasm and hilarity, till long past "the wee short hour ayont the twal; and ere the party finally separated "grey morning, like a warder on his tower," was beginning to smile upon the snow-clad world.'

Our space will not permit us to say anything of the 'Curling Court,'-a mock tribunal—a secret society, and the scene of frequent 'High Jinks' like those of Counsellor Pleydell; nor of the songs and song-writers of our game, nor even to tell of the lady curlers who have before now adorned a rink and played a capital game. It is to be hoped, what with Gamgee's real ice' and the new patent imitation,' that this excellent game will soon become as popular south of the Tweed as it is north of that river.

105

The World Well Lost.

BY E. LYNN LINTON.

CHAPTER XXXI.

SLIPPED.

WITH a great many affectations of hybridity, Miss Forbes had the one redeeming masculine quality of magnanimity. She did not judge of matters as they affected her own interests, and praise or blame according as she was well served or put to inconvenience. Unselfish herself, she knew that each man must make his own life in the best way in which he can, and that the capacity for sacrifice is not granted to everyone. So that when Bob Rushton came to her and, with many servile pullings of his forelock and much of the awkwardness of shame in his manner, announced the fact that he was going to quit Tower for Owlett-Mr. Smith having offered less work and better wage, and the old pain in his chest just now pretty bad -she would not let herself be annoyed, for all that she thought it ungrateful in Bob and unneighbourly in Mr. Smith. She understood it all, she said contemptuously-despising the man's weakness for its own sake, though not disposed to quarrel with it for the effect on herself personally; and understanding it—why, she let it go.

But, if she was masculine in her solid layer of magnanimity, she was feminine in her froth of talk, and before the week was out had discussed the transfer of service with everyone in the place. For her own part, she said that, although she had been glad to save thus far from ruin a poor shiftless wretch who could not stand upright of himself, yet she could not understand how any gentleman, the father of a family and the owner of property, should run the risk of offending a good friend for the sake of patronising an idle thief who was only too well off as it was, and who would never do himself or anyone else any credit; and she wondered at Mr. Smith's folly even more than she condemned Bob's ingratitude. If she wanted to be revenged on the former-which, heaven knew, she did not-she would be soon enough, she said. She had found Bob slippery and so would Mr. Smith; and she doubted if he would keep as tight a hand over the rogue as she had done. But there, that was enough!-she wished him joy of his bargain,

which for herself was a good riddance of bad rubbish. She supposed that Mr. Smith, who had seen so much of life, knew what he wanted when he had got it, and could manage his own business without her help; and at least, said the rough old kindly creature, talking off the froth and coming down to the solid layer, the poor fellow would be well taken care of; and perhaps his chest was bad, though he did not look like it.

She said all this in like substance, if varying form, to everyone in the place; and the chances are that she would have gone on saying it had she not heard something which effectually closed her mouth and stopped her speculations. It was only one of Miss Aurora's random shots-but it told. They had been calling on Mrs. Lucraft, discussing the whole affair after the manner of gossips with starved dramatic instincts, when, as they were driving home, Miss Aurora said, giggling:

'Diny! how funny it would be if Mr. Smith had done something wrong too, and been in the same prison with Robert; and that is why he took him!'

Miss Dinah turned pale and grew quite grave and silent when her sister said this. She forgot to call her a little angel or to compliment her on her sharpness; but from that day she said no more about Bob Rushton and Owlett, and pointedly avoided the subject when others would have discussed it.

But the world talked if she did not, and Grantley Bourne was much exercised concerning the whole affair. People instanced all the honest men with rheumatism and bad backs in the neighbourhood, and asked, with sneers, if Mr. Smith, or any wrong-headed philanthropist of his stamp, would have taken them and given them a snug berth like Bob's? And was it just to pet a man because he had been a rogue, while leaving to starve, if they liked it, the virtuous who had never got into trouble at all? It was a premium on vice and a penalty laid on virtue, they said, waxing warm; and Mr. Smith was a bad citizen, a bad neighbour, and a very doubtful Christian for his pains, and so they would like to tell him to his face. But no one ever did-just as no one ever said out boldly that things looked odd though many hinted so―at the first in a whisper and behind close-shut doors, but day by day growing louder and the chink wider.

The Smiths having as much as they could manage at home, without going abroad for complications, let the world talk its fill, taking no heed of broad hints or subtle insinuations when people called for the purpose of easing the strain, under pretence of asking after the character of this man or that maid-all the servants having given warning, and it being a matter of public

history why. Had it not been for the wedding, which absorbed so much of the public interest of the moment, things would have grown hotter sooner than they did. But even the dramatic instinct in country places is limited; and when the biggest sponge is filled, it can take up no more.

Suddenly Miss Forbes determined that she would go to Owlett, to say what she had it on her mind to say. She had not been there since she had received Baby's chance guess like a revelation directly given, and the buzz of suspicious conjectures, growing gradually louder and clearer, determined her to take a line which when taken she would stick to.

*This day—the day before the wedding-when she came she was noticeably quiet and sympathetic; for her, quite ladylike and tender. She talked of a great many indifferent things, and then she turned the conversation on Bob, in spite of Mrs. Smith's efforts to avoid the subject; speaking of him with true womanly compassion, if a little loftily, as belongs by right to one of rigid virtue and snow-white morals when dealing with a slippery varlet as particoloured as a pie.

And at the end of her speech she said, looking full into Mr. Smith's disturbed face:

'Well, I agree with the Bible, Mr. Smith; and when a man has done wrong and repents I am not ashamed to be on the side of the angels, and to rejoice with them over his salvation. If a friend of mine had gone to the bad, and repented and become a reformed character, I would stand by him cost what it might; and I would despise the soft-boned Christian who would be afraid of doing the same.'

"Yes, I should have expected as much from you, Miss Forbes,' answered Mrs. Smith with her wonderful tranquillity; while Edmund, weak, fluttered, abashed by his very embarrassment, confirmed her suspicion, and made her feel sure that Baby's random shaft had struck home to the very centre.

'So if ever the day should come when any friend of mine should want a substantial background,' continued Miss Forbes with suggestive warmth, there is one at Tower which will not give way in a hurry and may serve at a pinch better than none at all -don't you see?'

Which was exactly what they did not want to be made to see, kindly meant as her words were now, and useful as her offer might

be in the future.

This broad hint of service to sinners properly repentant and decorously rehabilitated, was given not only on the very day before the wedding, but also on that following on Derwent's high

handed castigation of Bob, and while Bob, who had not come home all night, was drinking himself blind and mad at the King's Head. Oh!' said Mrs. Smith with a passionate kind of plaintiveness, 'if only we could prevent Muriel from being bridesmaid at this wedding!'

She had not been used to be either passionate or plaintive, nor to content herself with wishing in place of commanding, as was more her natural right; but circumstances had been growing too strong for her of late, and she was not able to hold the reins as heretofore. While the children were young, and no other influence had conflicted with hers, things had been easy and she had governed them as she would; now, since the return of the father and the blossoming of these young loves, all manner of foreign strains had intermingled with and complicated her action, and the task of regulating their lives had become as difficult as it was disappointing. It would be a pity now that things have gone so far,' said Edmund, true to his temporising policy as well as to his natural kindness.

6

'It would be better,' she answered. We are on the edge of the precipice, Edmund, and we must face our position before long.' 'Perhaps not,' he said weakly. 'Miss Forbes might have meant nothing special. Perhaps it was a mere coincidence, and we are frightening ourselves for nothing.'

'I think not,' she answered.

I am sure that Rushton would not betray me,' he continued, his speech, like his conviction, gathering force from its own expression. 'What would he get by it? I am certain of it—no!— impossible!'

'We cannot be certain, dear,' she argued gently. He may have betrayed you unintentionally-by a chance hint that would be enough for a sharp woman as she is to work out.'

'He would be cautious for his own sake,' he said.

'No, unfortunately; he has nothing to lose. His story is too well known; and you saw for yourself how Derwent irritated him yesterday-how he has irritated him indeed ever since he came.'

'That boy of yours, Constance, has been made too much of. He takes too much on himself—a great deal,' said Edmund petulantly. He would have done better under a man's influence

under my care.'

"Yes,' said Mrs. Smith simply, and innocent of sarcasm. He flushed and then turned pale.

'It is scarcely kind to say so,' he answered, tears coming into his eyes. 'It is rather a bitter reproach to make to me!' She kissed him gently.