like shadowy apparitions, "to plague the inventor!" "Read these papers," said Talbot, placing four or five newspapers in the hands of Stratford, "and do not wonder that I look and feel miserable at having thus exposed myself to the derision of the world." Stratford hastily finished a cup of coffee, and pushed away a just broken egg; it seemed quite unfeeling to think of eating and drinking in the presence of so much wretchedness. He turned to the dramatic article of one newspaper after another, expecting to find his friend victimised, slandered, and laughed to scorn; but in reality, as my readers may perhaps be prepared to hear, the critiques were very fair, reasonable critiques, indeed; and it was only the sensitiveness of the author which had converted them into weapons of offence. 66 "I am sure," said Stratford, after the scrutiny was concluded, the dramatic critic of the Times' speaks very kindly of you; does not he say that there is much beauty in many of the speeches, only that the drama is unsuited for representation?" "Exactly so," replied Talbot, drily; "the only defect he finds in it is, that it is perfectly unsuited for the purpose for which it was written !" "But," persisted Stratford," he says that he is certain you would succeed better in a second attempt." "As I shall most assuredly never make a second attempt," replied Talbot, his opinion, or that of any one else on the subject, is of very little importance to me." Surely, however," said Stratford, "it is better to receive the commendation of writers of judgment and ability, than the applause of the one shilling gallery. Arbuscula was an actress on the Roman stage, who laughed at the hisses of the populace, while she received the applause of the knights." Talbot only replied to this anecdote by a muttered exclamation of impatience. And here let me give a few words of advice to my readers. Whenever you condole with those in trouble, do it in the old-fashioned cut-anddried way; it is true that your stock phrases and tedious truisms may cause you to be called a bore, but thousands of highly respectable condoling friends have been called bores before you, and thousands will be called so after you. But if you diverge at all from the beaten track, and attempt to introduce a literary allusion, or venture on a classical illustration, depend upon it you will be cited ever afterwards as an extremely hard-hearted person, intent alone on displaying your own wit or wisdom, instead of properly entering into the sorrows of your friend. "The Morning Chronicle,'" resumed Stratford, speaks highly of the scene between the 66 brothers at the end of the second act." "Yes," replied Talbot," and the Morning Chronicle' winds up its critique by advising me never to write another drama." "Did you not say just now that you never intended to do so?" asked Stratford. "How I wish, Stratford," exclaimed Talbot, imp tuously, "that I could make you enter into my feelings. How very differently you would think and speak if you were the author of a condemned tragedy!" "I do not consider," said Stratford, “that if such were the case, I should in any respect think or speak differently. I should feel far more pleasure in knowing that I had written a work which deserved to be successful, than mortification at the want of good taste in a mixed and misjudging audience which had caused it to fail of success." Stratford having been unfortunate in his previous attempts at consolation, had taken some pains to devise a prettily turned speech; but he little thought how completely successful it would prove, the countenance of Talbot actually lighted up with pleasure. "Are you really sincere in what you have said?" he replied. "I have a particular reason for wishing to know; do not reply to me in a hurry; take a few minutes for consideration." Somewhat surprised, Stratford began the course of mental examination prescribed by his friend; and the result of it was, that although he had only meant to speak civilly, he found that he had been speaking truly; for Stratford had a great admiration for literary talents, and a great wish to possess them; he also knew that Adelaide Linley was a warm admirer of dramatic poetry; he could not doubt that her judgment would lead her to approve of the "Russian Brothers;" and in regard to its condemnation, she, like every other intelligent person, must be fully aware that the plays that read best in the closet are often least adapted to the stage. "I have considered the matter again," said Stratford, after a pause, " and I repeat what I previously said; I should be glad to be the author of the "Russian Brothers," even although it has been condemned; but after all, Talbot, how useless is this conversation! no good wishes on your part, or aspiring wishes on my own, can make me the author of a drama to which I never contributed an idea or a line." 66 'Yet," said Talbot, "I do not see why the business might not be arranged to our mutual satisfaction. You wish to be known as the author of this play; I, perhaps foolishly and irritably, repent that I ever wrote it; no one but ourselves is aware which of us is the author: why should you not own it? I will most joyfully give up my claim to you." Stratford was a little startled at this proposi tion. But, should the deception be discovered," he said, people will allege that, like the jay, I have been strutting in borrowed plumes.' "Not at all," replied Talbot; “ your plumes are not borrowed, but are willingly bestowed upon you by the owner; besides, how should any discovery ensue, except from our own disclosures? You, of course, will not wish to disown what you consider it a credit to gain; and for myself, I give you my word, that should the Russian Brothers" be destined to attain high celebrity at a future day, I shall never assert my rights of paternity - they are the children of your adoption; but remember, you adopt them for life." accepted the sheet of paper from him, on which "Willingly," replied Stratford; "and now let us pay a visit at Mr. Grayson's house. Doubtless" the fair Adelaide will be impatient to pour balm into the wounds suffered by one of her adorers; pity is sometimes akin to love." "It is more frequently akin to contempt," murmured Talbot, in too low a voice to be heard; but nevertheles the friends proceeded on their way, talking much less cheerfully, and looking much less contested than might be supposed, when it is considered that they had rerently entered into a compact so satisfactory to both of them. I wish I could say that conscience bore any share in their disquietude, and that each felt grieved and humiliated at the idea that he was violating the sacred purity of truth; but such was not the case. Either Talbot or Stratford would have shrunk from the idea of telling a falsehood of malignity or dishonesty; but the polite untruths of convenience or flattery were as "household words" in their vocabulary. A dim foreboding of evil, however, now seemed to overshadow them. Talbot had something of the same sensation which a man may be supposed to have, who has cast off a troublesome child in a fit of irritation. His tragedy had been a source of great disappointment and mortification to him; but still it was his own; it had derived existence from him; he had spent many tedious days and nights watching over it before he could bring it to perfection; he was not quite happy in the idea that he had for ever made over all right and title in it to another. Stratford also was somewhat dispirited; he could not help thinking about a paper in the "Spectator" concerning a "Mountain of Miseries," where Jupiter allowed every one to lay down his own misery, and take up that of another person, each individual in the end being bitterly dissatisfied with the result of the experiment. Stratford bad laid down his literary insignificance, and taken up the burden of unsuccessful authorship: should he live to repent it? This in the course of a little time will appear. Adelaide Linley sat in the drawing-room of her guardian, eagerly awaiting a visit from her two favourite admirers. She was not alone, neither was one of her "wooers" with her. Her companion was a quiet-looking young man, whose personal appearance had nothing in it to recommend him to notice, although a physiognomist would have been struck with the good expression of his countenance. His name was Alton, and he was the confidential clerk of her guardian. He had never presumed to address the heiress, save with distant respect; but she valued him for the excellent qualities which had made him a high favourite with Mr. Grayson, and always treated him with kindness and consideration. On the present occasion, however, she was evidently somewhat out of humour, and I had a reason for declining to go, Miss Linley," said Alton. Probably you disapprove of dramatic representations," said Adelaide; "in which case I approve your consistency and conscientiousness in refusing to frequent them." Alton would have liked to be approved by Adelaide; but he liked to speak the truth still better. That was not my reason,' ," he replied; do not disapprove of the drama, nor could I expect anything that was not perfectly excellent and unexceptionable from the reputed authors of the tragedy in question I had another reason." 66 May I beg to know it?" said Adelaide, half in jest and half in earnest. Alton's cheek became flushed, but he replied, "I am not in the habit of withholding the truth, when expressly asked for it. I never go to public amusements, because I object to the expense." Alton could scarcely have made any speech that would more have lowered him in Adelaide's estimation. The young can make allowance for the good old gentlemanly vice" of avarice, in those who have lived so many years in the world that gathering gold appears to them as suitable a pastime for age as that of gathering flowers for childhood; but avarice in youth, like a lock of white hair in the midst of sunny curls, seems sadly out of its place. Adelaide knew that Alton received a liberal stipend from her guardian, and that he had also inherited some property from a cousin; he had not any near relations, he was doubtless hoarding entirely for his own profit; he was a gold worshipper in a small way, accumulating the precious metal by petty eccnomies in London, instead of going out manfully to dig it up by lumps in California! She therefore merely replied, "You are very prudent, Mr. Alton," with a marked and meaning intonation of the last word, which converted it into a severe epigram, and took up a book with an air of such unmistakeable coldness, that the discomfited economist was glad to beat a retreat. Adelaide's solitude was soon more agreeably enlivened by the arrival of Talbot and Stratford. Talbot quickly dispelled all embarrassment as to the subject of the tragedy, by playfully saying, "I bring with me an ill-fated author, who I am sure you will agree with me deserved much better treatment than he has met with." Hereupon, Adelaide offered words of consolation, and very sweet, kind, and winning words they were; indeed Stratford deemed them quite sufficient to compensate for the failure of a tragedy; but then, we must remember that Stratford was not really the author of the "Russian Brothers;" his wounds were only fictitious, and therefore it was no very difficult task to heal them. Possibly Talbot might have felt a little uneasy at Adelaide's excess of kindness, had he been present during the whole of Stratford's visit; but Talbot had soon made his escape to his club; he had several friends there, who suspected him of having written the tragedy of the preceding night; a few hours ago he had dreaded the idea of meeting them; but now he encountered them with fearless openness, expressing his concern for the failure of Stratford's tragedy, and remarking that "the poor fellow was so terribly cut up about it, that he had advised him to keep quiet for a few days, and let the affair blow over." hand; she had already fixed on a destination for it. One of the oldest friends of Adelaide's late father was a fashionable London publisher. Adelaide had kept up frequent intercourse with him, and waited on him with her manuscript, secure of being kindly received, even if he did not grant her request. Fortunately, however, for her, he had been present at the representation of the "Russian Brothers," and had been extremely struck with the beauty of the dialogue, and he readily agreed to print it. When the proofs were ready, Adelaide, quite sure that she should be giving great pleasure to Stratford, announced to him what she had done. Stratford nervously started, and gave a hurried, apprehensive glance at Talbot. "It will be certain to be a favourite with the reading public, will it not?" said Adelaide, addressing Talbot. "I am sure it will," answered Talbot, with animation, forgetting for the moment everything but that he was the author of the "Russian Brothers," and that the "Russian Brothers" was going to be printed. "How well the scene will read between the brothers at the end of the second act!" "It will indeed," returned Adelaide, with an approving glance at Talbot, whom she had lately suspected of being somewhat envious of the genius of his rival; "really we must try and inspire our friend with a little more confidence. I don't think he is at all aware of his own talents." Talbot and Stratford dined together; both were in good spirits: neither of them had yet begun to feel any of the evils of the deceptive course they were pursuing. A week passed, and the sky was no longer so fair and cloudless. Adelaide's pity for Stratford was evidently far more akin to love than contempt; she was an admirer of genius, and was never wearied of talking about the tragedy, which had really made a deep impression upon her. She requested Stratford to let her have the rough copy of it; the request was not so embarrassing as might be supposed, for Stratford had been "I don't think he is, indeed," said Talbot, obliged to ask Talbot to give it to him, that he with a distant approach to a sneer. might be able to answer Adelaide's continual "But my favourite passage," pursued Adequestions as to the conduct of the story and de-laide, "is the soliloquy of Orloff in the third velopment of the characters: the handwriting of act. Will you repeat it, Mr. Stratford ?” the friends was very similar, and the blotted, interlined manuscript revealed no secrets as to its especial inditer. "Remember," said Adelaide, as she playfully received it, "that I consider this as a gift, not as a loan; it will probably be introduced into various circles." Talbot was present at the time, and felt a pang of inexpressible acuteness at the idea of the offspring of his own brain being paraded in "various circles" as the production of Stratford. He could not offer any opposition to Adelaide's intentions; but he revenged himself by constant taunting allusions to the mortifications of an unsuccessful dramatist, shunned by the manager, scorned by the performers, and even a subject of sarcastic pity to the scene-shifters! Stratford began to repeat it as blunderingly and monotonously as he had been wont to repeat My name is Norval" in his schoolboy days; but Talbot quickly took possession of it, and recited it with feeling and spirit. 66 How strange it is," said Adelaide, “that authors rarely give effect to their own writings! But how beautiful is the sentiment of that speech-more beautiful, I think, every time one hears it. How did you feel, Mr. Stratford, when you wrote those lines?" and Stratford declared, with sincerity, that he had not the slightest recollection how he felt; Adelaide asked Talbot to repeat another speech, and praised his memory and feeling, in return for which he praised her good taste. Poor These speeches hurt and offended Stratford, Talbot, he was somewhat in the position of the especially as they were always made in the hero of a German tale: a kind of metempsychosis presence of Captain Nesbitt, another of the seemed to have taken place in relation to him"wooers" of the heiress, who shared Talbot's self and his friend, and he did not know whether newly-born jealousy of Stratford, and conse- to be delighted that his tragedy should be adquently was delighted both to prompt and keep up any line of conversation likely to humiliate him in the presence of his lady-love. A short time ago Talbot and Stratford had been generous and amicable rivals; but they had ceased to walk together in peace from the period when they entered on the crooked paths of dissimulation. When Adelaide had attentively read the manuscript tragedy, she transcribed it in a fair mired, or angry that it should be admired as the composition of Stratford. All contradictory feelings, however, merged into unmistakeable resentment and discontent when the tragedy was published: it became decidedly popular; the Reviews accorded wonderfully in their com mendation of it, and the first edition was speedily sold off. Stratford's name was not prefixed to it, at his own especial request; he did not want to plunge deeper into the mazes of falsehood than he had already done. But Talbot had proclaimed with such unwearied perseverance that Stratford was the author of the condemned tragedy, that his name on the title-page would have been quite an unnecessary identification. Poor Talbot! he certainly had much to try his patience at present. Stratford received abundance of invitations, in virtue of his successful authorship; he went to many parties in the character of a lion, where he was treated with much solemn reverence, and his most commonplace remark was evidently treasured as the quintessence of wit and judgment. These festivities Talbot did not wish to share. But frequently Stratford was invited to literary, real literary parties, where everybody in the room was celebrated for doing something better than it is done by people in general; and were any half-dozen guests taken at random from the assemblage, they would have sufficed to stud an ordinary party with stars. Here Stratford was introduced to brilliant novelists, exquisite poets, profound scholars, and men of searching science. Here, also, he met with literary women, as gentle and unassuming as they were gifted and celebrated, who wore their laurels with as much simplicity as if they had been wild flowers; and who, so far from possessing any of the oldfashioned pedantry which has aptly been defined as "intellectual tight lacing," were ready to converse on the most trite and every-day subjects-casting, however, over every subject on which they conversed, the pure and cheering sunshine of genius. All these new acquaintance of Stratford's were extremely kind and encouraging in their manner towards him, inquiring into his tastes and employments, praising him for that which he had already done, and encouraging him to do more in future. Such society and such conversation would have realized Talbot's earliest aspirations, and he could not willingly cede those privileges to a man who had never written half-a-dozen lines to deserve them. Yet Talbot was not a vain nor a selfish man: had Stratford been really gifted by nature with superior abilities to his own, he would have been quite satisfied that he should have reaped the harvest of them. But that Stratford should be distinguished at once by the notice of the gifted ones of earth, and by the smiles of Adelaide Linley, and that he might himself have been occupying that doubly enviable position, had he only kept in the simple path of truth-it was indeed a trial to the nerves and to the temper. At length, one day, when the rivals were alone, the smouldering fire burst forth. "I am very much surprised, Stratford," said Talbot, flattering himself that he was speaking in a remarkably cool, self-possessed tone, when in reality his cheeks were flushed with exciteinent, and his voice trembled with irritationI am very much surprised that you can continue from day to day to enjoy literary celebrity to which you must feel that you have not the shadow of a claim." Stratford did not return an angry answer to his friend; he was on the winning side, and successful people can always afford to be goodtempered. "I do not see," he replied, how I can possibly escape all the marks of kindness and distinction that are shown to me." "Have you any wish to escape them?" asked Talbot, sneeringly. "Before you reproach me," said Stratford, "I think you should remember at whose suggestion the deception was first entered into." "I did not foresee the consequences," said Talbot. "Pardon me," said Stratford; "the consequences were foreseen by both of us. I remarked that I was unwilling to strut, like the jay, in borrowed plumes; and you replied that if the "Russian Brothers" attained the greatest celebrity, you would never assert your rights of paternity." "You certainly possess an excellent memory," said Talbot, sarcastically, "whatever other mental attributes you may be deficient in. I remember the promise of secrecy to which you allude, but no promise was made on your part; therefore if you are inclined to descend from your usurped position, and give it up to the rightful owner, there is no cause why you should refrain from doing so." "And can you really," asked Stratford, with surprise, "expect that I should expose myself to the censure and ridicule of society for the purpose of reinstating you in rights which you voluntarily made over to me?" Talbot paused some time before he replied. "I feel," he said, "that I have expected too much. I rescind my proposal. I will only require you to make known the truth under a strict promise of secrecy to one individual." "And that individual is Adelaide Linley, I conclude," said Stratford. "It is," replied Talbot; "let Adelaide but know me as I really am, and I do not heed-at least I will endeavour not to heed-the opinion of the world; besides, Stratford, recollect that if you marry Adelaide, she must certainly find out the deception eventually; she can never believe that the fount of poetry has suddenly dried up within you; no doubt, indeed, she has already begun to wonder that you have not given vent to a woful sonnet made to your mistress' eyebrow.'' Stratford returned no answer, but the conversation left a deep impression on his mind ; and he felt that it would indeed be the most honest and upright course that he could pursue, to confess the whole truth to Adelaide, and then silently to withdraw himself from the literary society of which he was so little calculated to be a member. Nor was this resolution of Stratford's so great a sacrifice as might be imagined; he had for some time felt himself very little at ease among his brilliant new associates; he was aware that he was only "cloth of frieze," although circumstances had for a time matched him with "cloth of gold." He could not respond to the literary quotations and allusions constantly made in his presence. He had heard some wonder expressed that he had no scraps in, who happened to live in the immediate neighhis portfolio to show confidentially to admiring bourhood of this wealthy old uncle; he has friends; and the editor of a leading periodical indeed large estates, but he has two sons in had kindly suggested to him a subject for a excellent health, to inherit them." tale in blank verse, which, if written at all in the style of the tragedy, should, he said, receive immediate attention from him. Then, in other circles, young ladies had requested contributions for their albumns, and Adelaide had more than once expressed her wish to have new words written for some of her favourite old airs. Adelaide here paused, expecting to hear an exclamation of indignant surprise from Stratford; but it was not uttered. Stratford was by no means troubled with an over development of conscientiousness, and it appeared to him that Captain Nesbitt had committed a very venial offence in keeping two Welsh cousins in the background, who might have interfered so ma terially with his interests. "Doubtless," he at length remarked, "this subterfuge on Captain Nesbitt's part was owing to the excess of his affection for you." Stratford, the morning after his conversation with Talbot, sought the presence of Adelaide, resolved that, if his courage did not fail him, he would make a confession of his misdeeds, and an offer of his hand and heart before he left the house. He found Adelaide, as he had wished, alone; she was reading a letter when he entered," and it dropped on the ground as she rose to receive him; he lifted it up, and recognized the hand in which it was written; it was that of Captain Nesbitt, and the letter appeared to be of some length. Stratford felt disposed to be rather jealous; Captain Nesbitt was well connected, remarkably handsome, very lively, and had, like Captain Absolute, an air of success about him which was mighty provoking." "Do not let me interrupt your perusal of that letter," he said, rather coldly and stiffly. 66 "You have doubtless," said Adelaide with a smile," seen the hand-writing; you do not prevent me from reading the letter-I have just finished it; and although your visit may cause my answer to it to be delayed a little while longer, the delay is of no manner of importance, since I shall only write a few lines of no very agreeable purport." "I pity the poor fellow from my heart," exclaimed Stratford, and he spoke with sincerity; he could afford to pity Captain Nesbitt when he knew that Adelaide was about to reject him. "He does not deserve your pity," said Adelaide. "Can the gentle and kind-hearted Adelaide express herself so harshly?" asked Stratford, feeling more and more generously inclined towards his rival, when he saw how much he was disdained. "I doubt it very much," said Adelaide; affection is always prone to over-rate the good qualities of its object; now Captain Nesbitt must have greatly under-rated mine, if he could deem it likely that, possessing as I do an ample sufficiency of the goods of fortune, it could make any difference to me whether the lover of my choice were wealthy or otherwise." "Could you not in any case deem an untruth excusable?" asked Stratford. In none," replied Adelaide; "but there are cases in which I deem it particularly inexcu sable the falsehoods of pride or vanity, the assumption of being better, or richer, or wiser than we really are-these are, in my opinion, as contemptible as they are reprehensible." 66 "Men of the world," pursued Stratford, are apt to think very little of an occasional deviation from truth." 66 Pardon me," said Adelaide, "if I entirely differ from you. Should one man of the world tax another with the violation of truth in homely, downright phrase, what is the consequence? the insult is considered so unbearable, that in many cases the offender has even been called on to expiate his words with his life. Now, if a departure from truth be so mere a trifle, why should not the accusation of having departed from truth be also considered as a trifle?" Stratford was silent; his shallow sophistry could not contend with Adelaide's straightforward right-mindedness, and he was re"I must explain myself," said Adelaide; "for joiced when the entrance of visitors put an I should be very sorry that you (and the de- end to the conversation. A téte-à-tête with lighted lover actually fancied that he detected a Adelaide had on that morning no charms for slight emphasis on the word you) should believe him; he lacked nerve for either a confession or me to be hard-hearted and unkind. Captain a proposal! Perhaps, however, it would have Nesbitt has considerably fallen in my estimation been better for Stratford if he could have sumduring the last few days. I have received abun-moned courage to have outstaid the visitors, and dant proofs that he does not always love and respect the truth." Stratford began to feel rather nervous; he had a particular dislike to conversation which turned on the subject of love and respect for revealed everything to Adelaide; for discovery was impending over his head from a quarter where he could not possibly expect it, inasmuch as he was ignorant of the very existence of the person about to give the information. Every one must have been repeatedly called on to remark, that in society there seems to be a mysterious agency perpetually at work, bearing news from one quarter to another apparently quite unconnected with it. In every class or set we meet with some person who makes us cognizant of the sayings and doings of another class or set, |