what voluminous parcel, sealed with the De Bohun crest.

"Miss De Bohun, I promised your poor brother that if he fell and I survived, I would myself place this packet in your hand." Then turning towards the mother, he thus went on:

"This ring and locket, madam, I took from Moreton's corpse on the field. I have now brought them to that mother of whom I have so often heard him tenderly speak, and whom he did not, as I have told you, forget with his latest breath."

Mrs. De Bohun was about to give utterance to her feelings when the major resumed:

"One moment more, and I have done. This jetty lock I cut from his brow, when that brow grew icy and had set for ever!"

Mrs. De Bohun in her awakened agony kissed the treasured relic again and again, then placed it in her bosom to dry the tears by which it was bedewed. The other memento she cherished with holy care, then for a brief period indulged in a paroxysm of that anguish which mothers alone can feel.

Katherine sat in quiet but poignant sorrow; and the old man, burying his face in his hands, was like one bereft of consciousness. He who was by them had of late beheld strange spectacles, but this was one of those tenderly touching scenes which go at once to the heart. He could not refrain from contemplating the number of domestic tragedies, like the one of which he was now a part, that had of late taken place around the hearths of Europe-and all this worked by the demon passion-war!

In the course of time the storm began to subside. A wound had been torn open afresh, but ere long it once more essayed to re-close.

When the major set out on his journey he determined on effecting his return as soon as possible. He left his portmanteau at the market town, from whence he had walked that morning, in the conviction that he should retrace his steps that evening, deeming a few hours' tarry at Griffstaye would suffice for all he had to communicate. It cannot be wondered at that the family should lay

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an embargo on him for a few days' sojourn. They felt almost by his presence that something of Moreton was with them; he had been the bearer of his death-told messages, and could detail the particulars of his history to his last of earthly hours. They, one and all, besought him to remain. vinced of their warm-heartedness and hospitality, and did so. It was not at that particular time so convenient to him as it would have been two or three months later, but he essayed to oblige others, and generously forgot himself. Simon was desired to mount the Corporal and fetch the major's luggage from the coach town, to order fresh supplies, and every one beneath the roof seemed only emulous of making their guest contented and happy. Soon did he bring to Godfrey's remembrance the ensign whom he met at Colonel Sommerton's rooms at the Canterbury barracks, and informed him that the then ensign was the now major. By death's dreadful deeds he had risen in one day to his majority; and in consideration of his valuable suggestions when the plans of

the Waterloo campaigns were formed, the Duke subsequently recommended that his sovereign would do well to confer on Major Murdoch Douglas the honour of C. B., a recommendation, it is needless to observe, which was at once complied with. Thus, at a youthful age he had gained a rank and won honours, which few septagenarians have the good fortune to possess.

Godfrey's spirits had long been dashed; he had of late gone through fiery trials, and was now, in despite of all moral resistance, gradually bending beneath a superincumbent load of disasters. A friend of his late son, a military man, a man of the world, a gentleman, now to visit him! Why this was a smile of fortune most opportune, and one that came to shed a transitory sunbeam over a soul where all was winter. Long may he stay, we dare be bound is the honest wish of every reader of these imperfect pages. The ladies, who now saw no society, and who heard no more of fashion and the busier world than if they resided at Reikjarvick or Astrakan, regarded this

visit of the major as one of those few good things which occasionally light up the dark and devious roads of human destiny; indeed he was a kind of god-send dropped down upon Griffstaye, to briefly break the monotony of sequestered life.

Murdoch Douglas, was in every acceptation of the term a gentleman-more, a warm-hearted, an ingenuous, a good man. He was not a genius, nor would he under any circumstances have blazed out like some of those hot and igneous compositions whose souls burst forth to fury or to fame by the veriest spark; he would never have set the world into commotion, nor by any grand discoveries, or brilliant display of talents, have reared to his memory a white stone; but he was a diligent, reflective and fully informed man, whose predominating characteristics were integrity and thorough-going common sense, which are perhaps, after all, the most desirable and comfort-bringing attributes. He had the wisdom to steer clear of those extravagances by which men in his profession too frequently become corrupted. Flowing with conversation