66 business as far as Oxford. They might | a great feature. The pillars were brought be back, Sir William told me, in two from Sicily; they're no imitation, like days." what you see in many places, but real My man!" said the stranger, "I can marble. On the right is the dining-room, promise you your master will give you a and on the left the drawing-room. There good wigging when he hears that you is a fine gallery which is only used for have sent me away." 66 A good-what, sir?" Brown grew red with indignation; but all the same a chill little doubt stole over him. This personage, who was so very sure of his welcome, might after all turn out to be a person whom he had no right to send away. "I said a wigging, my good man. Perhaps you don't understand that in England. We do in our place. Come," he said, drawing out the card, and with it a very palpable sovereign, "here's my name. You can see I'm no impostor. You had better let me see the house." The card was a very highly glazed foreign-looking piece of pasteboard, and upon it was the name of Mr. Augustus Markham Gaveston, at full length, in old English characters. And now that Brown looked at him again, he seemed to see a certain likeness to Sir William in this pertinacious visitor. He was about the same height, his eyes were the same color, and there was something in the sound of his voice Brown thought on the whole it would be best to pocket the indignity and the sovereign, and let the stranger have his way. "I beg your pardon, sir," he said; "Sir William didn't say nothing to me about expecting a relative, and I'm not one that likes to take liberties in the absence of the family; but if so be as your mind is set upon it, I think I may take it upon me to let you see the house." "I thought we should understand each other, sooner or later," said the stranger with a smile. "Sir William could not tell you, for he did not know I was coming," he said, a moment afterwards, with a short laugh. "I've come from a long way off, where people are not much in the way of writing letters. Besides, it is so long since he's seen me, I dare say he has forgotten me, but the first glance at my card will bring it all back." "I don't doubt it, sir," said Brown. He had taken the sovereign, though not without doubts and compunctions, and now he felt himself half unwillingly bound to the service of the unknown personage. He admitted him into the hall with a momentary pang. "The house was built by the great-grandfather of the present baronet," he said. "This hall is considered balls and so forth "Ah-we'll take them in turn," said the little gentleman. He put down his big white umbrella, and shook himself free of several particles of dust which he perceived on his light coat. "I'll rest here a moment, thank you," he said, seating himself in the same big chair in which Colonel Lenny had fallen asleep. "This reminds me of where I've come from. I dare say Sir William brought it over. Now fetch me some iced water or seltzer, or cold punch if you've got such a thing. Before I start sight-seeing I'd like a little rest." Brown stared with open mouth; his very voice died away in the blank wonder that filled him. "Cold-punch!" he said. The stranger laughed. "Don't look so much like a boiled goose. I don't suppose you have cold punch. Get me some seltzer, as I say, or iced water. I don't suppose a man who has been anywhere where there's a sun can do without one of them. yes, there's a little sun in England now and then. Something to drink!" he added, in peremptory tones. Oh, Brown, though he felt the monstrous folly of this order from a man who had never set foot in the house before, felt himself moving instinctively very promptly to obey. It was the strangest thing in the world, but he did it, leaving this stranger enthroned in the great chair of Indian bamboo. Mr. Augustus Markham Gaveston, however, had no inclination to sleep. He sat sunk into the chair, rubbing his hands, looking about him with his little keen blue eyes. "So this is Markham Chase," he said to himself. His eyes shone with a mischievous, eager light. There was a little triumph in it, and some amusement. Though he was far from being a boy, a sort of boyish gleam of malicious pleasure was in his face, as if he had done something which he had not even intended or wished to do, and thus had stolen a march upon some one in authority. He pulled off his gloves in a leisurely way, finger by finger, and threw them into his hat, which he had placed at his feet. Then he rubbed his hands again, as if ready for anything or everything. "The dining-room to the right, the drawing-room to the left, and a fine gallery for balls and that sort of thing," he repeated, half under his breath. The little girls had watched anxiously from the schoolroom window as long as there was anything to see. They had seen the little gentleman come in, which filled them with excitement. It was not a telegram, so there was nothing to be afraid of. Their hearts jumped with excitement and wonder. Who could it be? "I ought to go and see what he wants, said Bell. "Mamma left the charge of the house to me." They stopped within the door, in a sudden crisis of fright. Nothing was visible but the grey trowsers, the little feet in light cloth boots, and two hands rubbing each other; all the rest of the stranger's person being sunk in the big chair. When he heard this exclamation, he roused himself, and turned a wide-awake head in their direction. "Ah! the young ladies!" he said. "How are you, my little dears? It is you I most want to see." And he held out to them the hands which had been seen rubbing themselves together so complacently a moment before. "We are the Miss Markhams. We are never spoken to like that," said Bell. Then she collected all her courage for the sake of her duty. "I am the eldest," she said. "Papa and mamma are gone away, if you wanted to see them; but if you have any message you wish to leave "Come here," he said. "I don't wish to leave any message. Don't be frightened. I want to make friends with you. Come here and talk to me. I am not a stranger. I am a sort of a relation of Oh, I yours." "She is seventeen," said Marie; "and you - you are only so little he will laugh at you. Bell, don't go. don't like to go "He is little, too," said Bell. - "A relation?" said Bell. And as "You Brown's solemn step was heard advanccan stay away if you please, but I am go-ing at this moment, the little girls ading to see what it all means. Mamma vanced too. Brown carried a tray with a left the charge to me." Marie followed, shy, but curious. "Oh, I wish the boys were here," she said. "The boys!" cried Bell, with much contempt. "Who would pay any attention to them? But you need not come unless you like. Mamma left the charge to me. Whether to be left alone, or to be dragged to the encounter to speak to a strange gentleman, Marie did not know which was worse. It was the first, however, which was most contrary to all her traditions. She scarcely remembered that such a thing had ever happened. So she followed, though ill at ease, holding a corner of Bell's frock between her fingers. Ås for Bell, she had the courage of a lion. She walked quite boldly through all the passages, and never felt the slightest inclination to run away, till she suddenly caught a glimpse of two neat little feet, protruding from two lines of light trowsers, on the other side of the hall. Then she gave a start and a little cry, and clutched at Marie behind her, who was more frightened than she. long glass upon it, a fat little bottle of seltzer water, and a large jug of claret-cup. Colonel Lenny had been very thirsty too when he fell asleep in that same chair, but he had not been served in this way. The little girls came forward, gravely interested, and watched with serious eyes while the little gentleman drank. nodded at them before he lifted the glass to his lips, with a comical air. He here. Nurse says they were in such a way when we were all born. They thought papa was going to let them have it. As if it were not much more natural that Paul should have it! You are not one of those people, are you Mr.- Markham? Is that really your name?" "I am not one of those people, and my name is Gus. What is yours? I want to know what to call you, and your little sister. And don't you think you had better take me to see the house?" "Oh," cried Bell, looking more serious than ever; "but we could not call a gentleman, quite an old gentleman, like you, Gus." "Do you think I am an old gentleman?" he said. "Well, not perhaps such a very old gentleman," said Bell, hesitating. Marie, trusting herself to speak for the first time, said in a half-whisper, "Oh, no not very old; just about the same as papa." The stranger burst into a laugh. This seemed to amuse him more than the humor of the speech justified. "There is a difference," he said; slight difference. I am not so old as papa." "You need not trouble yourself about that, Brown," said Bell, promptly. "Mamma said I was to have the charge of everything. I shall take him in and show him the pictures and things. I will tell papa that it was me. But, Brown," she added in an undertone, certain doubts coming over her, "don't go away; come with us all the same. Marie might be frightened, and I should like you to come all the same." Meantime the stranger had turned to Marie. "No," said Marie, hanging her head. She was the shy one of the family. She gave little glances at him sidelong from under her eyelids; but edged a little further off when he spoke. "Are you afraid? Do you think I would do you any harm?" said the little a gentleman. "It is quite the other way. Do you know I have brought some sweetmeats over the sea, I can't tell you how far, expressly for you." "For me!" Marie was fairly roused out of her apathy. "But you didn't know even our names till you came here." "Ah! there's no telling how much I "knew," said the stranger with a smile. "Do you know papa? Do you know any of them? You must have met them," said Bell, "if you are in society. Alice came out this year, and they went everywhere, and saw everybody, in society. Mamma told me so. Álice is the eldest," the little girl went on, pleased to enter into the fullest explanation as soon as she had got started. "That is, not the eldest of all, you know, but the eldest of the girls. She was at all the balls, and even went out to dinner! but then it is no wonder, she is eighteen, and quite as tall as mamma." "Is she pretty?" said the gentleman. He went on drinking glass after glass of the claret-cup, while Brown stood looking on, alarmed, yet respectful. ("Such a little fellow as that, I thought he'd bust hisself," Brown said.) 66 "She is not so pretty as mamma," said the little girl. Everybody says mamma is beautiful. I am the one that is most like her," continued Bell, with naïve satisfaction. "There is a picture of her in the drawing-room; you can come and see." "Miss Isabel," cried Brown, taking her aside. There was something important even in the fact of being taken aside to be expostulated with by Brown. "We don't know nothing about the gentleman, miss," He had risen up, and he was not very formidable. Though he was not handsome, the smile on his face made it quite pleasant. And to have sweetmeats brought, as he said, all that way, expressly for you, was a very ingratiating circumstance. Marie tried to whisper this wonderful piece of information to Bell when her interview with Brown was over. But Bell had returned to all her dignity of (temporary) head of the house. 66 If you will follow me," she said, trying to look, her sister said afterwards, as if she was in long dresses, and putting on an air of portentous importance, we will take you to see the house. Brown, you can come with us and open the doors." The visitor laughed. He was very little taller than Bell, as she swept on with dignity at the head of the procession. Brown, not quite satisfied. to have his rôle taken out of his hands, yet unwilling to leave the children in unknown company, and a little curious himself, and desirous to see what was going on, followed with some perturbation. And there never "I say, Brown! can't we have our dinner?" brought about a crisis. "You go and ask him to come, Harry," said Bell, seized with an access of shyness, and pushing her brother forward. "You are the biggest." was a housekeeper more grandiose in de- | question about lunch, until at last a vioscription than Bell proved herself, or lent appeal from Harry, more eloquently confused in her dates and details. They went over all the house, even into the bedrooms, for the stranger's curiosity was inexhaustible. He learned all sorts of particulars about the family, lingering over every picture and every chamber. When the boys came in, calling loudly for their sisters, he put his glass in his eye and examined them as they rushed up the great staircase, where a whispered, but quite audible, consultation took place. "I say, we want our dinner," cried Harry. "We're after a wasp's nest down in the Brentwood Hollow, and if you don't make haste, you lose all the fun." "Oh, a wasp's nest!" cried Bell; "but we can't we can't, for here is a gentleman who says he is a relation, and we're showing him over the house." "Such a funny little gentleman," said Marie, "and he says he's got some sweetmeats (what does one mean by sweetmeats?) for me." "I don't care for your gentleman; I want my dinner," cried Harry, whose boots were all over mud from the Brentwood swamp. They both brought in a whiff of fresh air, like a fresh breeze, into the stately house. "Ask him yourself," cried the boy. This difficult question, however, was solved by the little gentleman himself, who came forward, still with his glass in his eye. 66 My dear children," he said, "don't give yourselves any trouble. I am very hungry, and when Mr. Brown is so kind as to give you your dinner, I will share it with great pleasure. ("Cheeky little brute I don't like the looks of him," said Harry to Roland. "But it was plucky of him all the same," said Roland to Harry.) Allow me to offer Miss Markham my arm," the stranger added. To see Bell color up, look round at them all in alarm, then put on a grand air, and accept the little gentleman's arm, was, all the children thought, as good as a play. They followed in convulsions of suppressed laughter, the boys pretending to escort each other, while Marie did her best to subdue them. "Oh, boys, boys! when you know mamma says we are never to laugh at people," cried this small authority. But the meal thus prepared for was very successful, and the young Markhams speedily became quite intimate with their visitor. He told them he was going to stay in the village, and Harry and Roland immediately made him free of the woods. And he asked them a thousand questions about everybody and everything, from their father and mother, to the schoolfeast where they were going; but except the fact that he was staying in the village, he gave them no information about himself. This Brown noted keenly, who, though not disposed to trouble himself usually with a schoolroom dinner, condescended to conduct the service on this occasion by keeping both ears and eyes in very lively exercise. Brown felt sure, with the instinct of an old servant, that something was about to happen in the family, and he would not lose an opportunity of making his observations. The stranger remained until the children had got ready for their engagement, and walked with them to the village, still asking questions about everything. They had fallen quite easily into calling him Mr. Gus. “For I am Markham as well as you," he said; "there would be no distinction in that;" which was another source of anxiety and alarm to Brown, who knew that on the visitor's card there was another name. Good-bye, Mr. Gus, good-bye!" the children cried at the rectory gate. The village inn was further on, and Mr. Gus lingered with perfectly open and unaffected curiosity to look at the fine people who were getting out of their carriages at this gate. "We will tell papa your message," said Bell, turning round for a last word; "and remember you are to come again when they come home." "Never fear; you will see plenty of me before all is done," he said; and so went on into the village, waving his hand to them, with his big white umbrella over his head. All the girls and boys who were coming to the school-feast, stopped to look at him with wondering eyes. He was very unlike the ordinary Englishman as seen in Markham Royal. But the little Markhams themselves had now no doubt that he was a relation, for his walk, they all agreed, was exactly like papa. From The Fortnightly Review. BUDDHA'S FIRST SERMON. THE Buddha's first sermon is especially worthy of attention from the fact that it presents to us in a few short and pithy sentences the very essence of that remarkable system which has had so profound an influence on the religious history of so large a portion of the human race. And it is the more noteworthy since the scheme of salvation which it propounds, the kingdom of righteousness of which it is called the foundation, are supported by none of those conceptions which underlie the teachings of other religious founders, are entirely independent of the belief in a soul, of the belief in God, and of the belief in a future life. The first sermon occupies among the Buddhists a position similar to that held among the Christians by the Sermon on the Mount, and the day on which it was delivered is as sacred in the Buddhist Church as the Day of Pentecost in most of the Churches of Christendom. It is somewhat strange, therefore, that so little stress has been laid upon "The Foundation of the Kingdom of Righteousness by writers on Buddhism. But the reason is not far to seek. A mere translation of the sermon would be scarcely intelligible without an elaborate commentary; and it is a most difficult task to give a clear and simple account of a system so utterly foreign to the habitual conceptions and modes of thought of Western minds. If in my present endeavor to make a dark subject plain, I seem to dwell too long on more familiar topics, and to keep the reader too long from the sermon itself, I can only hope that the end will, in some measure, justify the means. Buddhism is often described as a philosophy rather than a religion; and a pessimist view of life is generally supposed to underlie its philosophy. It is somewhat difficult to tell what the word "pessimist" means in popular phraseology, so different and so contradictory are the vague, inaccurate meanings in which it is often used. It is most generally, perhaps, intended either to brand the man who is everlastingly complaining, and whose mental vision is blind to everything but misfortune and disaster; or to express contempt for the man whose weak heart takes fright at the ills of life, who thinks that all is evil and must remain evil, and who gives up in despair instead of trying manfully to take up arms against the sea of troubles, and by opposing end them. It is no wonder that so one-sided a view, so unworthy a character should be unpopular; and pessimism will scarcely obtain a hearing until it succeeds in removing the misconceptions involved in, and sustained by, such applications of the term. Neither the great Indian thinker and reformer, nor the modern advocates of pessimism, have advanced any such views as are thus stigmatized with what has become an opprobrious epithet. Their pessimism is confined to the answer which they give to the question, "Is life worth having?" - a question which they answer from two points of view. First, that of life in general, the sum total of existence; secondly, that of life in particular, the life of the individual. On the first point pessimism is a denial of the Christian doctrine that if we rightly consider all things that have been made, we must conclude, in the words of the first chapter of Genesis, "Behold, it is very good." If a pessimist be an adherent to the theory of a personal First Cause, he |