ruefully, "if it were not for the confounded bad luck of the thing considering what happened the very morning I went into the schools." "What bad luck-what happened?" inquired a sympathising friend. "Well, you know," was the reply, "that I never looked at my Livy till that morning, but just at breakfast I thought I would try my hand at SortesSortes, what d'you call it?" "Sortes Liviana," suggested his friend with much readiness of paraphrase. "Yes, that'll do. Well, I opened the book at a shot with a fork, and I took the two chapters I found on the page it opened at, and read them up with the crib." "And the Sortes turned out all gamm"Not a bit of it, my dear fellow. Those very two chapters were set me in the schools. That's just where the infernal luck comes in. I'm hanged if I could construe them!" So insidiously, we see, does Fortune intrude herself even into regions supposed to be under human control.

dismissed the "Itarnal problem" and other ethical conundrums which the modern Shelleyans are always asking each other, in a highly characteristic fashion. "What a set!" exclaims Mr. Arnold. "What a world!" Yes it was a set-it was a world, and this eminent critic is to be congratulated on his unhesitating assumption of a position in which he must have known that he would find himself in line with "Bottles." Unquestionably they are both right, Bottles and his literary creator, though they have reached their common standing-ground by opposite routes. Philistian respectability concurs with good taste and good feeling as regards the solution of the Harriet problem. Both must agree that if x equal the morality of Shelley's dealings with that unhappy young woman, and if an average standard of conduct be represented by the integer 1, then x will work out to an unpleasantly large number of decimal places. Mr. Arnold assures us that even after this algebraical operation is concluded, the "ideal Shelley survives." We must all sincerely hope so. But how thankful we should all be that Shakespeare died nearer three than two centuries ago, and that nothing more difficult than the comparatively simple "Anne problem" is now likely to be discovered and presented to us in connection with the lifehistory of the immortal bard!

H. D. TRAILL.

SEARCHES FOR SIMON D'YPRES IN STOURBRIDGE FAIR.

O find Simon d'Ypres in Stourbridge Fair was not so easy a task as Ralph had expected.

Not merely on account of the crowd and the noise and the dust. The crowd was indescribably motley, and the noise was a distracting compound of many sounds, each in itself harassing, from the horns and drums of travelling shows to the monotonous chants of sturdy beggars, and the more varied and clamorous yells of the vendors of pies and sweets and fruits. There was distraction enough for the ear, and the eye was also confused by the shifting, jostling throng, and the clouds of dust that every few minutes were whirled in upon them from the Barnwell Road.

Still there was a certain order in the medley. Every year as September came round the booths and tents of the various traffickers in the temporary market were raised in the same appointed stations. To find his cloth-merchant Ralph, familiar with the topography from his old Cambridge days, imagined that he had only to make his way to the Dudderies on the right side of the Barnwell road, and search among the booths there congregated.

He searched, easily and confidently at first, as one who had plenty of time before him and could afford to stop now and then to hear the voluble importunities of beggars No. 55.

and petty hawkers. But as he passed booth after booth without finding the object of his search, he became more impatient.

י!

"What if, after all, he should not be there! What if he had made his market and gone The fair had now been open for three days.

At last to his great relief he recognised Lawrence, the merchant's lieutenant, standing behind a bench on which were displayed great rolls of cloth and linen.

Ralph walked up to him with a smile. Lawrence did not return it, but looking at the new-comer as one of a hundred of possible customers began to address him as such.

"Cloth or linen, fair sir? Fine linen for bed or table, rough frieze for your servants' kirtles, the finest broadcloth for your own gown, all of the best, the best make in Ypres." Ralph stared in amazement.

"You can trust us for a fair bargain. We are not of those who come here but once and dare not show our faces again. Regularly as September comes round you will find us at this station, provided with cloth than which there is none better in Stourbridge Fair. A good merchant

"Are you not Lawrence?" gasped Ralph. "The faithful servant of Simon d'Ypres. Yes, good sir, at your bidding for any kind of cloth or linen that

"Do you not know me," interrupted Ralph; "me, Ralph Hardelot, whom --

"I do not remember the name, fair sir," answered Lawrence, interrupting him in turn with voluble politeness, "but none the less are my master's goods at your command, on payment of a fair price; and a fairer price you will not be asked anywhere to-day. You do not wish to buy, fair sir," he continued, as Ralph stood in speechless amazement. "Do

GG 2

not hurry. Take your own time, touch and handle for yourself. Here is a web of excellent cloth. Feel it for yourself, good sir." And pushing the web towards Ralph, he turned to another customer, and continued to commend his wares without change of manner or countenance.

What could it mean? It must be pretence. He could not possibly have forgotten one whom he had seen so lately and under such circumstances. Could he have heard what had happened since, and did he distrust one who had found favour in high quarters ? Was this the explanation? Or was there anything suspicious in the appearance of the other customer to whom Lawrence now addressed himself? Was the faithful servant silent because it was not safe to talk before this stranger?

Ralph mechanically fingered the cloth, and deliberated, fairly puzzled, glancing from one to the other. Lawrence showed no consciousness of being observed. Spruce, dapper, ceremoniously deferential, he looked like any other efficient salesman whose whole soul was in his business, only that with his red hose, his blue kirtle of fresh cloth, and his fair, curling, neatly-parted hair, he looked smarter than most. There was not a smarter man of business in the fair than Lawrence. Who more unlike a revolutionary conspirator Ralph could hardly believe that it could be the same man whom he had seen, and who had identified him in the Sturmere dungeon. If Lawrence had denied his identity, Ralph would at once have accepted the denial. But he had admitted it. could the meaning be?

What

He was

Ralph glanced at the customer. substantially clad in undressed gray homespun. Probably a small freeholder.

Ralph remarked that he had a straw in his mouth. Free labourers at those fairs used to carry a straw in that way as a symbol that they were open to an engagement. This man was surely too well-dressed for a labourer.

Lawrence apparently remarked the incongruity too, for he laughingly drew the customer's attention to his symbol.

"It is a mere trick," said the customer.

same

disconcerted, and maintained the mechanical courtesy when the customer finally shook his head and prepared to leave without having purchased anything.

"Do you often come to the fair?" he asked. "Have you been to Wandlebury, on the top of the Gog Magog? You can see very far from there. I generally walk there of a Sunday when I am at the fair."

And so with smiles the courteous tradesman parted with his visitor.

"What an ape this is!" thought Ralph to himself. Patience was not one of his virtues, and when Lawrence skipped up to him with his head cocked foppishly on one side, and asked with a smirk, "Have you been to Wandlebury, fair sir?" he answered with dry sternness:—

"I wish to see your master."

"Very right, sir," said Lawrence. "My master doubtless will be pleased to see you. But you will have rather a long journey to make."

"How so?

Is your master not at the

fair?" "Master Simon left last night, sir, for Ypres. May I ask why you wish to see him?" "I wish to see him on a matter of great consequence," said Ralph in dry tones.

"I am much in Master Simon's confidence," said Lawrence, with his head on one side. "Will you not intrust the business with me?"

Ralph hestitated for a moment.

"Am I not to be trusted?" said Lawrence with a sweet smile.

"I should have said you were a few days ago," answered Ralph, "but I do not understand your present conduct."

Without waiting for an answer he strode away. He was by no means convinced that Simon was not in the fair. It angered him to think that he was being played upon. What could be the object of it?

It is not pleasant to go on a message of conciliation and be received with insult. The old and experienced are prepared for it, and thus may be less disturbed when it comes: the naturally long-suffering accept it with patience as one of the many evils that have to be endured: but Ralph was young and

hot-blooded.

So enraged was he at the servant's deliberate and unprovoked insolence that for a few moments he was half of a mind to leave the fair at once and give up his mission as hopeless. What good could he do by staying? The servant would never have dared to behave as he did of his own motives. The master must have given him