formed the principal theme for conversation.

'By-the-by, Dalrymple,' said a youngish-looking barrister with sharp, intelligent features, to a well known art-critic, as the two were seated amidst a group of smokers; 'did you notice "Ruth" to-day, it's hung in the big room, next to M-?'

'You mean the new A.R.A.'s picture yes, I noticed it.'

'Did you like it?'

'I am astonished at a lawyer asking the question. Discretion

is the soul of criticism, as well as of valour. Nous verrons.'

'Ah,' said the barrister, not at all discomfited, 'it's a most artistic work, to my mind-the best he's done. I suppose you'll slate him-no, I forgot, you can afford to praise him, now he's an A.R.A.'

The critic shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly, and smoked his cigar.

'You know the man, Lewis, don't you?' asked another.

'We were at school together, and have been very good friends ever since.'

'By-the-by, I have not seen him lately; I remember voting for him here, but that must have been some months ago. He was the man about whose picture all the row was got up, yes-I don't think I have seen him at all this season.'

'No, I don't think you have, he has been abroad for three years, in Spain and in Palestine; I hear from him occasionally, and was the first to let him know of his election. R the R.A.

got him elected, I believe. Ah! I shall be glad to see him again. Waiter, the "Globe " and a cup of coffee,' and the group broke up.

In a low easy-chair, a cigar in his mouth, our friend Tom Lewis sat reading the 'Globe.' He had

finished Notes of the Day,' and had begun the leader, an attack on the Home Secretary, when a man in evening dress entered the room, tall, vigorous, with browned face and hands, a crisp curly beard and moustache, and Saxon

blue eyes. Glancing round the

room, he saw Lewis, advanced to him and touched him on the shoulder.

'Good heavens! it can't be you, Ned?'

'The same, dear boy, how are you?'

And the two friends clasped hands.

'By Jove! how you are altered -improved, I mean,' said Lewis, when his friend had sat down close to him. But tell me, when did you arrive?'

'Only three days ago. I went directly to your chambers, found you had moved-hadn't time to look in a Law List, because I knew I'd find you here. I have been dining with Reighton tonight, and came on here to look up my old friends. Come, tell me all about everything.'

And the two sat and smoked, and fought their early battles of life over again.

'And now,' exclaimed Ned, 'I must be off. I called yesterday at St. Mawes House, and was asked by the Duchess to an evening party.'

'Capital,' answered Lewis. 'I too am going. You wonder how I came to have the entrée perhaps? Know then I was junior counsel for the Marquis of Grampound, the Duke's eldest son, in the election petition when he was nearly unseated for bribery, and conducted myself in such wise as to have become an intimate friend of the young 'un and a constant visitor to the Duke. Come, it is time to go.'

As they rattled along Piccadilly

in a hansom, Ned inquired if his friend had heard aught of Mrs. Hodges and her children.

'Oh dear, yes. Mrs. Cyrus has married again. An American, I understand. One of her children died two years ago, but the other is now one of the belles of Balti

more.'

'And Lucy?'

'My information is not precise about her. I heard, however, that she disapproved of her aunt's marriage, and after some little difficulty, has appeared as a public singer.'

'Where, in England?"

'No, in Italy, I believe; Mrs. Hodges lived in Rome for two years. But here we are.'

The rooms were crowded, Lewis and Ned, after a gracious reception from the Duchess, retired to the staircase for comfort and air. Presently a song was commenced, a simple ballad-Kathleen Mavourneen.' The crowd was SO dense that the singer could not be seen from the door.

'Who is it?' asked a bystander. 'I forget the name,' answered another, but an English girl and a protégée of her Grace, picked up at Naples, I believe.'

Ned was enthralled, then startled. Yes, there could be no doubt, it was the voice whose

echo was ever in his ears-he was listening to Lucy Graham once again!

As the last reverberations died away, Ned advanced eagerly through the people in time to see his lover escorted towards the conservatory. Her cavalier was the young Marquis. Presently the young gentleman emerged alone, obedient to a message from his mother. Graysbrook stepped in, and found his divinity alone among the flowers. For a moment he regarded her without speaking. She raised her eyes,

and the tell-tale roses flew to her cheeks.

'Lucy! Lucy! you have not forgotten me?'

'Oh heavens!-Mr. Graysbrook -no, of course I have not forgotten you!' and the blushing girl almost gasped for breath.

Ned sank into a seat beside her, and softly took her hand.

'Lucy-you remember the last time we met? If you do not, I shall go through the scene again. Times have changed; you will not shun me again? Tell me, sweet!'

Lucy Graham, trembling with joy, inclined like the goddess of love towards him-and

Thus again they met.

SCIATICUS.