"Well, but yet you keep on calling it Talland and Lansallos."

"And for this reason," said Joan, stooping to rake together four or five loose stones. "Now look here. Suppose we say these stones is Polperro, now;" and she made a division with a clear space between the two heaps: "this we'll call the brook that divides two parishes. All this side is Talland, and they must go to Talland church to be married and buried; all that side is Lansallos, and un must be married and buried in Lansallos church. Now do 'ee understand?"

Eve went over the explanation to herself: then she said, "Yes, I think I do understand now."

"All right, then. Before we go on I want to ask Arbell if she's got any ducks fit for killin', 'cos if so us'll have a couple." "You don't want me for that, do you?" said Eve; "so while you go in there let me wait here, shall I ?"

"Very well," said Joan. "Then don't come through the gate, 'cos we haven't got time to go no farther, and I won't be a minute or two 'fore I'm back agen." So saying, she pushed open the gate, let it swing behind her, and disappeared toward the cottage, leaving Eve to become more familiar with the scene around her.

was hugged closer to her heart, while the light link which bound her to Reuben May seemed turned into a fetter.

"He ought never to have taken such a promise from me," she said, with all the ungenerousness of one-sided love.

Then, after a few moments' pause, moved by some impulse, she ran across the green slope which hedged the cliff, and bent over; but the place where on the previous night she had stood with Adam was hidden from view, and, turning, she walked slowly back, wondering what could have made her wish to look at that particular spot.

Certainly not any feeling of love she had toward Adam, for the thought that Adam was the one who would not trust her stung her with a sharpness which made the desire for revenge come keen and the thought of it seem sweet. And out of her vivid imagination she swiftly conjured up an image of Adam humbled and enslaved; and as she stood still, enjoying her pictured triumph, the click of the gate recalled her wandering senses, and turning round she was met by Joan, who said, "Let's get back as quick as we can, for Arbell says one o' the boats is in, and one o' the Climos told her that word had come o' somebody havin' seen Jerrem."

"Oh, then what a pity we sent the letter!"

From The Saturday Review. STREET DISCORDS.

A patchwork of fields spread out and ran down to the cliffs, which sloped toward a point where they overhung the "Yes I forgot all about that," said sea and shadowed the little pebbly beach Joan. "But never mind: Watty can't below. Not a tree was in sight, so that have took it yet. So on our way home Eve's eyes wandered across the unbroken we'll call and tell un we wants the letter line of undulating land until they rested back agen: we needn't say for why, only on the hillock-raised tower of the old that we've a changed our minds and gray church, beneath whose shelter lay there's no call to send un now." the dead, whose plaintive dirge the sea seemed softly singing; and straightway a mist gathered before Eve and the eyes of her heart looked upon a lonely grave in a far-off city churchyard. Was it possible that little more than a week had passed since she stood bidding farewell to that loved spot? If so, time had no span, but must be measured by the events it chronicled. Only a week! yet her life seemed already bound up in fresh interests, her feelings and sympathies entangled in a host of new doubts and perplexities. Affections hitherto dormant had been aroused, emotions she had not dreamed of quickened. It was as if she had dropped into a place kept vacant for her, the surroundings of which were fast closing in, shutting out all beyond and obscuring all that had gone before; and at this thought the memory of her mother

IT is clear that, until some alteration in the existing law has been effected, it is idle to suggest any fanciful schemes for relieving the inhabitants of London from their present distress. Either the organgrinder must be abolished altogether or he must be placed under such restrictions in the exercise of his calling as will insure a measure of peace to those whom he now habitually torments. If street music is to be accepted as a necessary condition of national freedom, it might at least be possible to set aside certain hours in the day which should be wholly given up to the organ-grinder and his friends.

But in the nature of things there would | ance. Street exhibitions which can exist seem to be no better reason for handing without the accompaniment of noise would over our thoroughfares to barrel-organs still avail to give life and animation to our than for appropriating them to the pur- cities. Punch and Judy, shorn of the poses of artillery practice. Those who attraction of the big drum, might remain have a fancy for such music could surely to cultivate the dramatic instincts of the be asked to justify their tastes by a more populace, and the man who balances poliberal hospitality than they are at present tatoes upon his nose could pursue his disposed to display. There is no law calling without molestation. Indeed, the against any householder's sheltering the interests of native talent would clearly organ-grinder within his gates. În a be advanced by the entire suppression of country like ours, where charitable socie- the organ-grinder and his instrument. If ties are plentiful, a society for the encour- the revived ideas of protection are to be agement of organ-grinding might easily tolerated at all, they might certainly be be established, and prizes could be given applied without injustice to this particular for the highest exhibition either of skill form of industry, and a tax on street muor endurance. As an object of philan- sic would doubtless form a popular item thropic effort the organ-grinders would, in the next budget. We feel convinced we feel assured, find a permanent place in that such an impost would be both more our social system, and if the law does not reasonable and more popular than Mr. quickly come to their rescue, we are con- Lowe's famous match-tax, for it would be vinced that many of those who now suffer the means of bringing peace to many tormost grievously from street music will be tured souls, and of restoring to foreign found among the most liberal subscribers nations a vast amount of talent that has to the institution. Let there be properly been too long in exile. The fatherland, organized competitions in some remote completely drained of its brass bands, spot in the suburbs, where all the ama- would then be enabled to welcome home teurs of the barrel organ can assemble to a number of gifted artists, who must have celebrate their hideous rites. Charitable suffered grievously in our terrible climate. persons might even be found to offer Italy, in like manner, would claim as her their houses for the purpose of periodical own a whole regiment of masterly perconcerts, and thus the music that is now formers on the piano-organ; and the enwasted in the street would be sure of franchised citizens, with renewed courfinding a fit audience. But whether any age, might then hope to wage successful such arrangement can be made or not, it war with such native enemies of peace is at any rate quite time to clear the pub- and quiet as the bawling costermonger lic thoroughfare of an intolerable annoy- and the importunate muffin-man.

REJECTED MSS.-It is the most difficult particularly fine, we should hear a good deal thing in the world to know how an article will less than we do at present of "rejected MSS." read from looking at it in MS., so difficult that Any one can scribble-if he only knows how even authors themselves, men of long and to spell; but writing is an art-one of the fine varied experience, men like Moore and Ma-arts-and the men who have had the fewest caulay, could seldom form an opinion upon their own writings till they saw how they looked in print. And when that is the case with the author, how must it be with the publisher or his reader, and with the editor of a publication who has to make up his mind about the merits of half a dozen MSS. in the course of a morning! Yet, after all, I suspect that very few articles and very few books that are worth printing are lost to the world, for the competition among publishers for MSS. is only one degree less keen than the competition among authors for publishers, and an author who has anything worth printing is seldom long without a publisher. If men would only act upon Dr. Johnson's advice, and strike out of their articles everything that they think

MSS. returned are the men who have taken the greatest pains with their work: Macaulay, for instance, who wrote and re-wrote some of his essays, long as they are, three times over; Albany Fonblanque, the most brilliant and successful of English journalists, who wrote and re-wrote many of his articles in the Examiner newspaper six and seven times, till, like Boileau, he had sifted his article of everything but the choicest thoughts and expressions. Perhaps if all writers did this we should have shorter articles and fewer books; but more articles that now perish with a single reading might be worth reprinting, and more books might stand a chance of descending to posterity.

Belgravia.

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