THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF A PET SPANIEL.

[Concluded.]

It was afternoon, in the latter end of May-bright, beautiful, and unruffled. All nature felt the soothing effects of returning summer; and that calm, dreamy illusion, which steals so imperceptibly over the senses with the coming evening, spread itself o'er its grateful bosom.

We had passed the greater part of the morning in the Gothic summer-house on the terrace, enjoying the lively scenery and refreshing breezes of the Thames. The gentle Julia was occupied with embroidery and reading, and occasionally romping with me, in her usual affectionate playfulness. She was, indeed, happier on that day than I had for some time seen her; and her lovely countenance had resumed the joyous, winning expression which so attached me to her at first sight. I yielded to the influence of returning love, so gloomily eclipsed by the passing clouds of uncontrollable melancholy. I ran about, chasing butterflies and barking at the birds, with a lightness of heart to which I had been some time a stranger, but which now filled us both with extreme pleasure.

His lordship had left us in the morning, promising that nothing should delay his return. He was more frank, open, and affectionate than I had ever before seen him; and I really felt converted sufficiently to believe in his sincerity and truthfulness. We were inspired with the liveliest hopes.

It was just at that delicious hour when the sweet spirit of repose lays her magic finger on retiring day, and the setting sun gradually hushes into mysterious silence the busy hum of stirring life, that the sudden clattering of a horse, whose speed announced his rapid approach, attracted our attention, and we simultaneously hastened towards the house.

By the time we arrived at the top of the garden, a man of the "discarded-groom" appearance, and wearing a red woollen jacket, had just delivered a small note to the servants, who had been the first to receive him. I observed that it was open, without an envelope, and written in pencil on half-a-sheet of paper, as if torn from the back of another letter. The man was mounted on my master's favourite horse, who stood panting and heated, as if he had been urged to his utmost.

We had not quite arrived at the cottage, when I could perceive her palpitating heart already proclaim in her anxious face the dread, fear, and intense excitement which shook her tender frame. With trembling hand she seized the fatal note. One look; and, with a piteous scream, and uttering "Oh God, spare him!" she fell insensible to the ground.

For a long time she remained so completely prostrate that all around feared she was irrecoverably stricken. They bestowed on

her the most unceasing care, and removed her with the greatest caution within-doors.

The sad news contained in the ill-omened letter was to the following effect:

MY POOR DEAR FRIEND,

Lord Charles has just been thrown from his horse at the corner of Park-lane. He has broken his leg, and has been carried to the hospital. By a curious coincidence, I happened to be passing at the moment, and send this messenger on the unlucky animal, the cause of the misfortune. Be sure to come to me at St. John's-wood before you venture to see him. It is of the greatest consequence, your doing so. Don't forget.

"Hurriedly, but affectionately,

"CECILIA ST. CLARE.

"Take it not unkind, my not coming; mais je ne puis pas,”

Immediately on returning reason, the carriage was ordered; and, accompanied by her faithful femme-de-chambre, she drove at once, in spite of the request of Madame St. Clare to the contrary, to St. George's. According to custom, I jumped in, and remained undisturbed.

The sufferings of impatience and unbearable anguish that were contending in her mind during that terrible drive were fearful to witness. Every effort that she could make to curb or check her distracting grief she called to her aid, broken sentences of prayer alone escaping her. Inconsolable, and apparently hopeless, she was deaf alike to either the entreaties or assurances of her more experienced companion.

With inconceivable firmness she entered the dreaded hospital; but so unnatural was her appearance and expression, so visibly assumed was her presence of mind, that I expected momentarily a disastrous failure. I followed her unnoticed. She was directed by the porter to a side-ward, which, on entering, I remarked was for two beds only. On one lay his lordship, pale, stern, and resigned. By his side sat his mother, the Duchess, looking, as she was, "the queen of the aristocracy." Her hard, finely-chiselled features were now softened by a natural outburst of affection; for, although of the highand-mighty, unbending school of female rigidness, the magic circle of whose exclusiveness is even more sacred and unapproachable than that of royalty itself, yet by disposition she was kind-hearted, loving, and possessed of the very tenderest qualities of a mother, education and high life having vainly attacked them. The Duke his father stood a little to the side, arranging with the surgeon the best means of removing the unfortunate sufferer.

On the otherwise-unoccupied bed sat a young and strikinglyhandsome woman, clearly also, at first sight, of the cold, correct, allby-rule class. Perfectly self-possessed, and apparently unconcerned, she was toying with a happy little boy of about two years old, whose nurse was standing sentinel close to the wall.

On taking the first step towards entering the ward, Julia for an instant seemed to hesitate, as if suddenly struck by a terrible and overwhelming knowledge of her fate. A ghastly, livid tone usurped her countenance; and she reeled towards the bed, at the side of which, on her knees, she attempted to seize his lordship's hand-that hand that he had so falsely plighted, and which now he quickly

withdrew. Her head drooped like the faded lily: she was hopelessly vanquished.

Not a word was spoken. Lord Charles closed his eyes, and waved her gently from him. The Duchess withdrew her chair a pace, all the pride, pomp, and circumstance of rank at once blazing forth in all their arrogance-a magnificent display of earthly vanity. The playful, laughing infant had been taken by its well-trained nurse on this sudden intrusion, and innocently and joyously, with an instinctive cry of recognition, called on his frowning father.

The awful suspense was thus broken. Julia, raising her distressed and bloodshot eyes, gazed curiously and intently at the child, then looked vacantly on its haughty mother, and, rising as well as her trembling limbs would allow her, she, with a choking, hysterical voice, said, "Oh God, help me!"

"Charles," exclaimed the beautiful, the fashionable, the worldworshipped wife, "what poor victim have we here?"

The Duke, more merciful, stepped instantly forward, and, gently, even kindly, laying his hand on the shoulder of the wretched Julia, said, "Poor girl! you had better retire. Your position is too painful to yourself and all. Let me persuade you to leave."

Then, leading her out with unaffected mildness and feeling, in which he was assisted by the doctor, who, seeing her shattered condition, was alarmed by the change which had come over her fea tures, he resigned her into the hands of her servant, who had remained waiting without in the corridor.

So altered was she, so strange, unnatural, and fixed was her expression, that, although she still moved, there was an unconsciousness terrifying to look on. She was like one walking in her sleep, and was guided unresistingly to the carriage.

Before leaving, the doctor took our address, and cautioned her companion to be most careful and attentive, saying that " probably, after a flood of tears, she would again rally, and be herself."

Alas! these words of comfort were never to be realized. She sat like a statue, immoveable and cold. She neither spoke nor seemed to have the power to move; there was a death-like film over her eyes, most harrowing; and on arriving once more at the cottage, the scene of past happiness, and where all around had been so dear to her, which it was hoped might turn the sad current of her thoughts, she still remained unroused, and in this state was carried to her bedroom, and placed in the easy chair wherein I had formerly slept.

Alone, broken-hearted, friendless, she sat, insensible to the entreaties and remonstrances of her attendants. If her lips moved at all, it was faintly to utter, even in her agony, the beloved name of Charles. After she had been partially undressed, she fell into a species of swoon, probably produced by the exertion. On recovery, she whispered those about her to leave her. This she earnestly pressed them to do, and which they at last foolishly acquiesced in, believing her to be better.

By this time night was somewhat advanced, and candles had been placed on a table in the middle of the room. Close on the edge of this was her prayer-book, the one constantly used by her, both day and night; and in the attempt to reach it, but, half-rising from the

chair, she stretched forward with her hand, and, missing the object of her search, rolled heavily on to the floor.

I was instantly by her side; but let us draw a veil over the horrors of a scene never to be forgotten, and which distresses me even now to refer to. I kissed and loved her, and tried all that my poor nature suggested to reanimate or comfort her. Convulsion followed convulsion of the most fearful and cruel description. Every muscle and nerve was torn and strained, to the utmost racking of her angelic form. At length, in mercy, came a stream of pure crimson blood, oozing rapidly from her nose and mouth; and with it her sufferings subsided.

She sank, as it were, into what I imagined was a calm and gentle sleep; for I had never before seen death. Her earthly misery was at an end. She had died truly and really of a broken heart, and was happily spared the further tortures of prolonged anguish, bitter disappointment, and that rude mockery and scorn of this unsympathising world reserved for frailty.

How long I remained in the position I had taken, which was that of fondling myself closely into her bosom, with the hopes that my presence and warmth might reassure and comfort her, I cannot imagine. I was disturbed by a creeping chill, which I felt stealing over me, and became alarmed and anxious at her ice-like coldness and unaltered attitude. I tried, therefore, to reach the door, that I might in some way alarm the domestics, but found myself firmly detained by the long hairs of my ear, which her fingers had grasped with a rigid contraction from which there was no possibility of release. I was hopelessly coupled to death.

With what courage I could muster, I immediately set up a most hideous howl, continuing it at intervals, making, indeed, as frightful and piteous a noise as I could, trusting that some assistance would soon arrive. In this, however, I was mistaken, as some time must have elapsed-and we were in utter darkness-ere her door was opened.

The confusion, fear, and selfishness that were displayed on the discovery of the catastrophe, opened my eyes, and warned me of coming dangers and terrible changes. Here was a wreck indeed! Each seemed to try to turn it to their own advantage, and profit by every object and circumstance. Love, respect, and duty towards their fallen mistress gave place to wrangling, drunkenness, and pilfering.

From the moment of my release, I became entirely neglected, receiving many cuffs and kicks from all parties, for the melancholy display of my increasing attachment to the remains of the pure, innocent, ill-fated Julia, upon whose lovely features a happy and sublime. expression had now settled.

Early the following day Madame St. Clare arrived, and, although visibly shocked at the unexpected news, assumed an authority-as she said, by direction of his lordship. At any rate, she took the precaution to lock up the rooms and carry off the jewellery for safe keeping, at the same time slipping on to her finger, unobserved save by me, a diamond hoop of great value. I never saw her afterwards.

I, in my turn, was handed over to the coachman, for fear of

accident or of being lost, and to get me "out of the way" in the general disorder. He cheerfully accepted the charge, and took me at once to his own room, over the stable, and secured me. The next morning, after bestowing much care in washing and combing me, he put me into a hat-box; and, leaving the stable-door a little ajar, he carried me under his arm, thus concealed, into the house, where he told the other servants to "mind the dog didn't get out, as he was off into town for the new hat as was ordered him ;" adding that "he might as well have all he could get, before we gets sacked."

Mounting an omnibus at the end of the lane, I was in a few minutes transported to the bustling, noisy scenes of London life. He first went to the house of Isaacs, the Jew, who had previously valued me so highly. He lived at the West End; but, not being at home, he sought him in the neighbouring public-houses, and at last, taking me out of my miserable prison, left me in the backparlour of the " Crown," in Cranbourn-court, under the charge of the host, the well-known "Stunning Joe Banks," long famous in the "Rookery" of St. Giles.

Joe, with an expressive wink, said, "I twigs. He's a rare nice un. You'll find your bloke in one o' the cribs.'

It was not long, indeed, before both returned. I could see that high words had passed between them; but immediately on the sight of me, observing the perfect condition I was in, and how much age had improved me, the Jew at once closed the bargain, and handed to the unrelenting coachman twenty pounds.

They passed an hour or two in chaffing and drinking, during which I was shown to, and admired by, many "fanciers" who accidentally dropped in for their morning "drains."

Isaacs then carried me in triumph through the streets to his shop, where I was introduced to a collection of dogs, cats, monkeys, canaries, piping bullfinches, and parrots, which gave it the air and flavour of a compressed menagerie.

He had no fear of my being claimed; for he knew the particulars of the sad history of my beloved mistress, and the end of Lord Charles, who, after excruciating suffering, both mental and bodily, and many uncontrollable attacks of delirium, died on the twentyseventh day after his accident.

Alas, poor Julia! thou wert but the toy, the fancy, the pet spaniel, of a passion! Thou art better at rest! One true heart still beats for thee; and never, through all the changes of my varied life, have I ceased to love and dream of thee; and now, in my old age, the memory of thy goodness and beauty serves to reanimate and soothe my enfeebled frame.

This sudden and violent change of circumstances and mode of life affected me very seriously; for I could with great difficulty either eat the disgusting food or drink the tainted water that was placed before me. My appearance soon became altered; and had it continued long, my health and value would have been jeopardised. The Jew, perceiving this, was both annoyed and anxious, and longed for the opportunity of disposing of me, and which, fortunately for him, was soon offered.

There was then in London a very wealthy and fashionable Spanish