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see what they have done with you. Where
have you put Mr. Tillotson, James?"

"In the Brown Room, sir. There's a fire
lighting there."

"Ah, dear, dear! So it is! Old Sir John
Mackintosh, he slept there. (She was one of the
finest women, Tillotson, that you would pick out.
You couldn't go beyond her.) I know the road,
Tillotson. This way."

They went up through many passages, till they
got to this large but low square room, with
faded paper, and a faded red-cushioned
bedstead, with limp curtains fast drawn, which
nodded as any one walked across the room. It
seemed as stately as the Baldequino in St. Peter's
at Rome. Mr. Tilney got his legs across a chair
in a riding attitude, yet without any intention
of moving. Suddenly he started. "My goodness,
I declare, so it is! The very room. Wonderful
indeed. There's not a sparrow falls,
you know. Just ask the waiter if I am not

"How do you mean?" said Mr. Tillotson,

"My dear friend," said Mr. Tilney, getting
off his horse, "this is the very chamber where
Tom Major shot old General Macarthy, at one
o'clock in the morningjust as I might crack
this lump here."

Mr. Tilney was seeking this reminiscence in
the coals with such infinite relish that he did not
see that this sudden piece of news made Mr.
Tillotson fall back against the curtains of the
bed as if he had been strickenneither did he
hear his murmured "Great Heaven!"

"This very room," he went on, beating the
coals abstractedly, "I was brought to when a mere
lad, the very morning after. And they had the
poor old general on a bed. But brought it all on
himselfcouldn't command himself; and Tom,
who belonged to one of the best families, could not
well pass it over. Tom got away to Boulogne in
time. Dear me! Tillotson, my dear friend, I beg
your pardon, I do indeed. I forgot. Traveller,
and all that. You look pulled down someway. We
must get up flesh hereand here. Heaven, in its
infinite bounty, bless you. After all, we have
every reason to be thankful!"

With this he at last took his leave, and went
away. As soon as he had gone, Mr. Tillotson,
as it were shrinking away from the room, rang
for the waiter. "Light a fire," he said, "in
another room."

With amazement the waiter murmured, "But
this is the Brown Room, sir. Lord Llanberis,
sir, always——"

"I don't care," said Mr. Tillotson, impatiently.
"Get me a smaller room, one lower down, and
not so lonely."

"But the fire, sir; the housemaids are gone to

"Never mind the fire."

The waiter went to get ready another room,
murmuring to himself that this was a queer, "ill-
edicated 'feller, " and in a short time had a
smaller mouldy apartment, with also a catafalque
bed, quite ready, and there Mr. Tillotson slept a
troubled sleep.


AMONGST the foremost propagators of the
Romance of Fact, stands the name of Louis
Figuier. Year by year he has given us of late
a summary of the scientific marvels divulged
during the twelvemonth past, with now and
then a comprehensive work treating some one
subject in its full completeness. Such is The
World before the Deluge, of which Messrs.
Chapman and Hall have published an admirable
adaptation, very different from an ordinary and
servile translation, and which comes in just now
as a most seasonable gift-book.

At this time of year, thousands of people are
asking themselves the question, What is the
most wholesome reading for the young? Fiction,
fables, and fairy talesor facts? M. Figuier
perhaps a little too exclusive and narrow
in his educational views, too much devoted
to "nothing like leather"—holds that the first
books placed in the hands of the young, when
they have mastered the first steps to knowledge
and can read, should be on Natural History; that,
in place of awakening the faculties of youthful
minds to admiration by fables, it would be
better to direct their admiring attention to the
simple spectacles of natureto the structure of
a tree, the composition of a flower, the organs
of animals, the perfection of the crystalline form
in minerals; above all, to the history of the
world, our habitation. In one point at least,
he is right. After ordinary and every-day facts
have been mastered, and a moderate allowance
of amusing literature indulged in, then, nothing
is more instructive and elevating than an intro-
duction to new, unknown, and wonderful facts.
And certainly, the incontestable truths with
which it is desirable to furnish the minds of
the young are not difficult to find; nor do
they impose any great labour on the
youthful mind.

Different species have died out quite naturally;
races have disappeared, like individuals. The
Sovereign Master, who created animals and
plants, has willed that the duration of the
existence of species on the surface of the earth
should be limited, as is the life of individuals.
It was not necessary, in order that they should
disappear, that the elements should be over-
thrown, nor to call in the intervention of the
united fires of heaven and earth. It is according
to a plan emanating from the All-powerful,
that the races which have lived a certain time
upon the earth, have made way for others, and
frequently for races nearer perfection, as far as
complexity of organisation is concerned. We see
the work of creation perfecting itself unceasingly,
in the hands of Him who has said,
"Before the world was, I am." The ever-
increasing beauty of the fabric compels us to
adore the Artificer.