one, with the solitary exception of the actor, basks so continuously in the only true sun of human happiness complacency.

THE season of short days and long nights is far more appropriately dedicated to another and an older human industry than that with which authors and publishers have connected it. At least, I suppose that burglaries are older than books, even in their earliest form. The first hut erected by man rendered the crime possible, and, once a crime is possible, man does not usually wait long to commit it. Indeed I do not know that even a tent might not, in the eye of the law, be the subject of burglarious entry; and probably we should have to go back to the time of the cave-men to find a society absolutely free from this crime. Etymologically, no doubt, it is of modern origin. The word burglar, says a venerable jurist, "seemeth to have been brought to us out of Germany by the Saxons, and to be derived of the German burg, a house, and larron, a thief, probably from the Latin latro latrones." It is more than "probable," O venerable jurist, that larron is derived from latro, but less than probable, on the other hand, that larron was "brought to us out of Germany by the Saxons." May not bourg-larron-city thief -be compounded of two good French words, instead of being a hybrid, tracing descent from a German by one side and French by another? It would suit the facts pretty well, too, for the burglar has now become almost distinctively a city thief, and the days of the fine old "put-up jobs" in the country mansion seem to be things of the past. Occasionally, indeed, we do hear of my lady's bed-room being invaded through an open window at eight o'clock in the evening, while the family are at dinner, and of her jewels being carried off; but these exploits, though clever enough in their way, are hardly in the nature of good, honest, legitimate provincial burglaries, such as were common thirty years ago, when a housebreaking enterprise took many weeks or even months to plan, and was only undertaken after elaborate flirtations with communicative maid-servants, and sometimes actual subornation of male understrappers of the household. Thus carefully prepared and organised, country burglaries were carried out with all the precision and decorum of a domiciliary visit from a Government inspector, and occasionally with some of the festivities of a picnic. Who that was a boy in the 'fifties can forget the excited and admiring interest with which-fresh, no doubt, from one of the novels of Mr. Harrison Ainsworth

-he read the account of that then famous burglary in the course of which the thieves carried out good store of cold meat and wine from the larder and the cellar of the house they were plundering, and feasted beneath a secular elm in its adjacent grounds? Who of those days did not rejoice over the piquant incident of the umbrella being brought out from the hall of the mansion to shield the burglar scouts (for the weather was ever capricious at garden-parties) from the rain which set in a little later on? There are no such robberies now. The multiplication of railways and the improvement of patrolling in the districts served by the County Constabulary has improved them off the face of the country side. House-breaking is now become almost entirely an urban occupation, and in spite of certain superficial signs to the contrary, I am inclined to think that it is a branch of the predatory calling which has seen its best days. There is a growing tendency to combine it with other avocations— a departure from the principle of division of labour which, except on the assumption that burglary is a declining industry, would be economically retrograde. A few months ago two men were tried and convicted for this crime, who, when they were not engaged in burglary, were respectively a hatter and a stonemason. In itself this is not a "fair conjunction" upon which Heaven can be expected to smile. A more incongruous alliance, indeed, it would be difficult to imagine; and it is equally hard to say which of the two men seems the less suited for the art which they practised in common. Only one fate can be reserved for a business which falls into such hands as these. When the working classes begin to regard burglary as merely a species of "pot-boiling" to be taken up for bread and cheese when times are bad, it is clear that it must have lost caste altogether as a skilled form of robbery

ON wider grounds, too, I object to this and similar doublings of parts; for everything which makes for the cumulation of employments tends to diminish the diversities of human character. We know as a matter of observation that every profession or calling, and indeed every state and condition of life, has its own point of view. There is the clerical point of view, the legal, the medical, the military, the naval, the literary, the critical (which ought to include all other points of view, and let us hope does so), the commercial, the artistic, and in fact as many others as there are well-marked distinctions in the pursuits of life. It is from the multiplicity and variety of these points of view,

and from the fact that the views respectively taken from them are continually crossing and colliding with each other, that a vast amount of the humour of life arises; and I do not remember meeting with a more delightful illustration of this than the following incident presents. The name of the originator of it is unknown to me. The other names involved, and which the reader shall guess, are those of an eminent publisher and a distinguished member of that band of modern poets who are to be read with comprehension not so much by him who runs as by him who seats himself in a not too easy chair, with a cup of strong coffee at his elbow, and a wet towel girt around his throbbing brows. Some little while ago the eminent publisher received a letter from a perplexed purchaser of the last volume of the distinguished poet's poems, informing him (the E. P.) that he (the P. P.) had carefully perused the D. P.'s new volume and had been quite unable to understand its contents. What, he asked mildly but firmly, was under the circumstances to be done? Somewhat taken back by this rather unusual appeal to him, the E. P. wrote a polite answer, expressing his regret at his correspondent's failure to fathom the poet's mind, and suggesting (perhaps somewhat wickedly) that he should lay his difficulties before the D. P. himself. To this suggestion the purchaser replied very stiffly that he had not the honour of Mr. Amphion's acquaintance; that he had dealt solely with Mr. Amphion's publisher; and that he looked to the latter gentleman to ensure him his money's worth in the book which he had bought. This, of course, was getting past a joke, and the eminent publisher sent back a curt repudiation of all responsibility in the matter; adding a general remark or two on the absurdity of supposing that any man who merely printed and circulated the writings of another could be called upon to explain them. To this there came a delicious reply to the effect that in the opinion of Purchaser, Publisher had grossly misconceived his legal position in the matter, and that his claim to limit in this way his responsibility in connection with the books issued from his house could not be tolerated for a moment. He had in the regular course of business sold and received money for the book in question, and the law would thereupon imply a contract on his part that the article sold was adapted to the purpose for which it was professedly designed. That condition, the writer went on to say, was certainly not fulfilled by a book from which neither the purchaser nor any of the friends to whom he had submitted it had been able to extract any definite meaning whatever.

Publisher, in short, was informed that Purchaser intended to consult his solicitor as to the proper method of obtaining redress in the premises, and to take such legal measures as he might be advised.

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A more fascinating extension of the doctrine of " doctrine of "Warranty" could hardly be imagined. What a delightful task it would have been to have drawn this gentleman's "declaration," in the old days of pleading and before the invention of Judicature Acts, and other new-fangled devices for bringing litigants, in an expeditious but brutally unscientific fashion to an issue. The plaintiff would have set forth in his first count that the defendant "was carrying on business as a publisher, and that in his capacity as such publisher he sold and delivered to the plaintiff a certain book of poems, or reputed poems, to wit [here insert name of work as The Broken Shawm, by "Threnody Throbbs,' or, A Soul's Conundrum by Lady Nebula St. Cloud], and that the defendant thereby warranted and undertook that the said book should be reasonably fit for human perusal; whereas in truth and in fact it was not so fit as aforesaid, but was and is unintelligible to the plaintiff," &c. And then probably the pleader would have added out of his abundant caution a second special count setting forth the facts in the same form as above, and going on to recite that it was an implied term of the contract entered into between the plaintiff and the defendant that in the event of the said poems, or any part or parts thereof, being unintelligible to the plaintiff, the defendant should, after due and reasonable notice in that behalf, supply the plaintiff with such glosses, commentaries, scholia, or other explanations as might be necessary to their comprehension;" and the plaintiff would then proceed to add that he had applied to the defendant for such explanations as aforesaid, and that "all conditions were fulfilled, and all things were done and happened, and all times elapsed, necessary to entitle him to receive the said explanations. but that the defendant refused, and still refuses, to furnish them, whereby the plaintiff lost the use and enjoyment of the said book of poems, and was put to sundry costs and charges in and about endeavouring to obtain the said explanations from the defendant, and was otherwise injured and damnified.” If a court of law were only to hold that this declaration disclosed a good cause of action, what a revolution it would create in the publishing trade, and how much more difficult it would become for some bards that one knows of to find a market!

H. D. TRAILL.

CHAPTER V.-(Continued.)

IN THE WHITE HART AT SUDBURY REGINALD MEETS TWO OLD ACQUAINTANCES AND TWO STRANGERS.

to

HUS had the eloquent Chowley been discoursing before Reginald's entrance, and had proceeded to deal with Ralph Hardelot, who had come Sudbury a few days before in the garb of a Wycliffian "poor priest." To him and his crack-brained advocacy of seizing the goods of the Church to cover the expenses of the wars, on the ground that they were meant for the relief of the poor, and that ministers of religion should be supported by voluntary alms, Chowley had attributed the disturbance of the day in the town. But he had hinted that he would soon put a stopper in the mouth of the young idiot. Obscure cloisterer though Chowley was, he had more influence than people might give him credit for, and he would take care that Ralph Hardelot did not carry his heresy much farther.

He had just said this, and was puffing out his cheeks with an air of great importance, much satisfied with the effect of his eloquence, when Reginald Hardelot was ushered

in.

All eyes were turned on the newcomer and his gay livery. His easy chat with the landlord was listened to on the lower floor, and attention drawn to the details of his No. 50.

costume in whispers the badge of the white hart, which was observed to correspond with the sign of the hostel, though much more finely drawn, the tight hose of alternate white and red, which showed to advantage the shapely limbs of the wearer, the strip of buff leather on the inside of the calf, which protected the leg in riding.

By Reginald's advent the eloquent canon was left without an audience. He did not relish this, and he was much piqued besides at the young man's cool, cavalier manner, and absolute inattention to himself. He was not the man to put up with it; his face, already flushed with oratorical effort, assumed a still redder hue; and inwardly fuming, but trying hard to keep cool, he collected his ideas with a view to putting the young jackanapes in his proper place.

"And how is my good lord, your uncle, the archbishop?" asked the host, very much delighted with Reginald's familiarity, and speaking in a loud, clear voice, so that nobody should miss the rank of his guest. "It may be in a manner a grief to him," he continued in a soft, confidential tone, when Reginald had answered the question, "that your brother Ralph should have turned Lollard, if so be that he has turned Lollard, which I can scarce believe, for Master Ralph was a youth of a fine spirit, though a little headstrong, and maybe this Lollardy is but a passing jest."

But Reginald was not prepared to discuss this with him, and rose to go. "I think," he said, "you told me I should find my brother about St. Gregory's Churchyard?" "Yes," said the host. Anyways, I saw F 2

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