And you really think I'm getting on? Perhaps he's thinking it's time I should be getting off; and I think so too,

For I see Mrs. Crabtree looking as black as thunder on the bank, and Aunt Minerva getting positively blue.

Never catch cold in a frost, don't they? Well, one more turn But I didn't mean turn round, you know.

Now bend your knees, slide your fairy foot out forwards, and push with the other, so:

You're getting on awfully fast.-Yes, dreadfully. I feel I couldn't stop myself to save my life

And here's Lord Dash towing Lady D. backwards like a lightning conductor, or a pilot engine with a wife;

He'll be over us in half a minute-can't somebody manage to catch me?-Ada, elf!

Was there ever! . . . hurt myself did you say, sir? No sir, I did not hurt myself

...

He'll scatter someone else in half a minute-look, I told you sothere's Constance down and there goes Fanny Flop,

And Katy with her parasol, and the three Miss Maypoles, and huge Mrs. MacAnak at the top.

Why can't the man look where he's going to, or why doesn't he skate forwards like other people, I should like to know?

He's bowling them all over like ninepins, half-a-dozen at a time, and there, oh hurrah! I declare he's bowled himself over at last into a great heap of snow!

[Chorus.]

For here we slip

And there we trip

In moments too ambitious;
Yet Blanche declares

And Charley swears
It's really quite delicious!

*

The Lancers? What on skates? O yes, of all things—wouldn't it be jolly?

Philip can dance with me, and I'll introduce you to my country cousin Polly:

Rather have me? No, would you? I thought you'd like better to have danced with her;

But they can be our vis-à-vis instead, only Polly always goes the wrong way in the Grand Chain and Philip systematically refuses to stir.

How badly Richard whistles, though he declares in the Crimea they used to call him 'Whistling Dick,'

But p'r'aps he finds it rather fatiguing sometimes, when he's talking to his partner and skating quick Can't somebody hum the tune? (He's whistling in one key and she's

humming in another!) but we'll finish it in spite of spites,What's stopping us now? Oh it's that girl with the pretty feet again who's always wanting her skate straps put to rights; And now its the 'visiting' figure turned into a morning call by Dumpling fille,

Flirting with that Captain Plunger who would go on last night dancing the galop instead of the quadrille.

And pray what are you about, sir? New Lancer step? Nonsense, it's nothing of the sort, I know,

It's spreadaddle, or 'eagle, or something, but you've fairly settled the set,' and I believe that's what you wanted to do.

So we'll go and cut some 'eights,' shall we, or 'threes back '? (Yes, I know your stupid joke about my 'backward roll,')

Or make a voyage of discovery up to the furthest ice, like Captain Cook or Admiral Franklyn when they nearly got to the top of North Pole !

[Chorus.]

For here we slide

And there we glide

Tho' Ma may look suspicious;
A fall or two

Don't matter a sou,

And skating IS delicious!

H. CHOLMONDELEY-PENNELL.

TEMPLE BAR.

MARCH 1871.

THE

Ought we to Visit Her?

A NOVEL.

"

By Mrs. EDWARDES, AUTHOR OF "ARCHIE LOVELL, ETC.

CHAPTER XI.

JANE'S FIRST TASTE OF RESPECTABILITY.

HE travellers enter the gloomy sitting-room, bringing in with them the freshness and sunshine of the outer world, and happily unconscious that a family reunion awaits them. Jane's hand is upon her husband's arm; she is laughing merrily and loud. Blossy, brandishing aloft her honeysuckle, with shouts of purposeless glee, knocks down a valuable Chinese mandarin from his bracket before she has taken half a dozen steps. Two sable-clad figures advance, at a funereal pace, to meet them; and Mr. Theobald, admonished by the pressure of Jane's fingers, puts up his eye-glass, and recognises his sisters.

"Anne-Charlotte, how good of you to come over! I didn't see you for the moment-getting blinder than ever, I'm sorry to say, in my old age. How are you both ?"

and Miss Theobald remarks Then there is silence. Miss Jane, illogical, but right as

They fold him in a stony embrace, that it is six years since they met last. Charlotte is looking steadily at Jane; usual, is deciding that she will have fewer friends by two than she had counted on in Chalkshire. Blossy, with open eyes and mouth, is recovering from the downfall of the mandarin, and taking such general stock as her limited powers permit of everything.

"And here are my wife and child," says Mr. Theobald, neither of the ladies offering to speak or move. "Jenny," putting his arm around his wife's waist, and so drawing her forward, "these are my sisters."

VOL. XXXI.

2 F

The introduction thus formally gone through, the Miss Theobalds perform their duty, by successively taking Jane's hand and touching her cheek with their lips. Cold, lifeless, void of flesh-and-blood are the salutes; but Jane wants, for the child's sake rather than her own, to conciliate her husband's people, and receives them graciously.

"It is very kind of you to be here to meet us," she remarks, for safety following Mr. Theobald's lead.

"It is not likely we should leave the house in the hands of new servants," observes Charlotte, pointedly addressing Theobald, not his wife. "You said nothing about servants in your letter, Francis, but we concluded that you would want them, and have engaged you two respectable country girls as cook and housemaid. I presume that is as many as you will keep ?"

"Eh? Well, I'm sure I don't know. I hope the cook can cook," answers Mr. Theobald. "By the way, Charlotte, have you ordered dinner? We are all of us ready for it."

"We concluded you would have dined early, Francis. But there are some chops. You can have chops and tea when you like.”

Mr. Theobald puts up his glass, and looks from one of his sisters to the other with unaffected surprise. "Chops and tea! Good heaven, what a dreadful combination! Tea alone or chops alone-but together! Jenny, my dear, why didn't you remind me to dine on the road?"

Jane answers, diplomatically, that, for her part, she would sooner have a cup of tea than anything else, still a chop will be just the thing for Blossy. And then Blossy, hearing her own name mentioned, comes a step or two forward, evidently desirous of notice.

"Kiss your aunts, Bloss," says Mr. Theobald, taking possession of the only easy chair the room contains. "Go up and give each of those ladies one of your best kisses.”

"Yes, Blossy, go," says Jane, pushing her daughter on, a little nervously, towards her relatives.

But Miss Charlotte's eyes happen, unfortunately, to be riveted full upon the child's blooming upturned face; and Blossy stops short. "Come here, my dear," says the elder sister, amicably, but in the stiff tone of a person unaccustomed to children.

No, Me not," says Blossy, grasping her mother's dress tight with both her small hands.

"Go this moment and kiss those nice ladies," says Jane sternly. "No, Me not," cries Blossy, driven by desperation to violent language. "Dey not nice. Dey narsy, narsy ladies!"

The Miss Theobalds it is to be hoped do not understand these infantine accents.

"She looks rather hectic," remarks the elder sister, scanning the brilliant carnations and snows of Blossy's complexion. "If that child were mine, Francis, I should try her with a little taraxacum."

"She seems to like her own way, and to get it," adds Miss Charlotte. "A hundred to one the ornament wasn't smashed to pieces. If I had anything to do with the child, Francis, I should make her obey."

Up rises all Jane's blood at the two speeches. "Blossy has never had a day's sickness since she was born, and never takes physic. Blossy has perfect health." This she addresses to the elder Miss Theobald. "And as to her disobedience," looking full into Charlotte's crabbed face, "why, little children are sincere, and won't go to strangers as they will to their own people; why should they?"

"Oh, of course not. Of course my brother's child looks upon us as strangers!" says Miss Charlotte. "Francis," turning sharply to Theobald, who is smiling under his blonde moustache at the little comedy the ladies are enacting for his amusement, "I trust, as long as you live in this neighbourhood, we shall never have cause for painful discussions on any subject whatever.”

"Amen," responds Theobald promptly. "Let us pray that we all go on in the same friendly spirit as we have begun to night!"

66

But one thing I feel called upon, yes, called upon, to observe." The sisters are now seated; Jane is seated likewise; and Miss Charlotte casts a wicked eye round upon the family circle: "You have lived a great deal abroad, and I am ready to admit that the customs of foreigners may not be our customs; but decency-DECENCY, I suppose, is recognised all over the world, Francis."

"Well, yes; more or less, I suppose it is," Theobald assents cheerfully.

"Our cousin James is dead.”

"So is Queen Anne, my dear Charlotte. If our cousin James were not dead, I, and my wife and child, would certainly not be at Theobalds."

"He died exactly a month ago.'

"On the 28th of May, at three in the afternoon, half an hour after he had eaten a hearty dinner of lamb and gooseberry tart," puts in Miss Theobald, who always feels it her duty in questions of sickness or death to be minute as to details.

"And you, Francis, and those belonging to you, are in colours "" Charlotte Theobald gives a malignant glance at a knot of cherrycoloured ribbon on Blossy's hat. "You come into this neighbourhood-into the very house where he died-in colours!" "Yes,

Jane crimsons with shame. "It is my fault," she cries. Theobald, it is my fault. I forgot all about it. I will make up some mourning at once."

"Not if I know it, Jenny," says Mr. Theobald, becoming suddenly animated. "Not a stitch of black shall you or any one in this house put on for James Theobald."