"Stick by it! of course you must. Why, man, there is a course of glory open to you-a regular road to fame-and you've got nothing to do but to walk along it. What do you think I came about? Don't know, hey? Well I came to tell how we got on after you were floored, because I don't think you heard much of the proceedings. Oh, how jolly you were! You were drunk as" "A patriot," said Tom. "Only fancy Ada seeing you-or hearing" you as "Don't Sniggers!" and Tom looked as if that would be very horrid indeed, and added hastily" well, what did you come about ?" "Why, I read to the society a letter which I had from Winnegar the other day, and he says he doesn't mind standing at the election. He is a stunning fellow; but of course you know that— everyone knows that." "Well, his principles are all right," said Tom, putting on a knowing air; for although he had never heard of the great man Winnegar before, yet he did not wish Sniggers to think so. "Right! I should think so; regular nine-points man. Oh! I see you don't know much about him, or you would be mad nearly -I am." "Are you? Well, I must confess I don't know much about him—that is, I've not heard much lately." "Ah! I see you don't know anything. Why, good heavens! he is a glorious man-a grand man!" Here Mr. Sniggers got excited, nearly swept a tumbler off the dressing-table in the energy of his action, replaced it again, and went on getting up the steam as he progressed. "Oh! he's the man of the age, the man who is ready for the HOUR to come. He is he is, in fact, an organized —a humanized principle—a moving motive to his century." With this rather obscure eulogium, which was delivered in lecture style, and a painful emphasis on the substantives, Mr. Sniggers cooled down suddenly, and pulling out a kerchief with a jerk, which wafted essence of bergamot through the length and breadth of the room, and elaborately polishing his upper lip, he pitied Tom's ignorance by lifting up both his hands and shaking his head. "Well, I can't help it," said Tom, feeling very ashamed indeed that he did not know the glorious Winnegar. "Ah, no! if you don't know him, you don't. At any rate he's coming; he says he knows there is no chance of getting in, but he says he thinks it is his duty to spend his money for his country. Isn't that fine? Ah, he is a glorious fellow! He was a poor man once-in the tin line somewhere or other-but he got rich by a lucky stroke in the railway line; so he wanted something stirring and he turned patriot. Can't he speak and he has got such a forehead as you never saw, a regular Shakespeare, He is the savagest man I ever knew; he is just like a monk, too, eats cabbage and drinks water-always has a frown on his face-never kissed a woman in his life—can drink without ever getting mellow -and is to be in fact, a regular Saviour of his country! That's the man we are going to stick up for Lower Fleecington, Sir!"A heavy slap on Tom's back. "Is it ?" said Tom, very much impressed. "Rayther! And now, Tom, get yourself washed like a human being. I've eaten your breakfast, so it isn't getting cold. I've told you what I came for, so good morning. Now mind you come to the society to-night; we are going to get up a committee for Winnegar, and we can't do without you!" But," hesitated Tom, "I must go and see Ada to-night." "Nonsense!" said Sniggers, with the nob of the door in his hand, "you write a note and tell her you must come to-night; I tell you we can't do without you!" The door was pulled to, and Tom was left to himself in a high state of pleasure, to think he was so much needed in the councils of Little Fleecington, And now, leaving Tom to humanize his appearance, and get down as soon as might be to his counter, we have no doubt that our fair readers will not quarrel with us if we return to little Ada. That dear little creature, when we last heard of her, was tripping up stairs with her heart as light and as leaping as an Indiarubber ball, and her spirits very far above proof. She felt certain that Tom would not give up her love for the sake of his vote-she felt assured that Tom would never lose her for the sake of his country. His country! what nonsense; what good had it done him? For her part she could not imagine why people made such a bother of their country-not she. Thus thought little Ada. But Tom didn't come the next night, and a very kind creature, who had seen him go into the door of the "Cat and Trumpet," told her of it. Then little Ada's heart didn't jump so much as before-like a dear, kind heart as it was, it began to feel a great deal afraid for Tom, and not a little for itself. What was worse, too, her father was in the room at the time, and knit his brow, and dabbed his hat on, and went out muttering, and she heard him outside, immediately after, having a row with his foreman. Little Ada's heart put all these things together, and, as hearts generally do when engaged on such business, planned out a com plete series of struggles and trials for itself, and felt very low about it all. Now the night of the morning in which we left Tom washing, she felt very unhappy indeed, waiting for him to come. She could not play the old harpsichord somehow that night-she could not get on at all with her bright needlework somehow. She was very nervous and ready to cry every moment. Her father went out to smoke a pipe with a stiff old friend of his, a stubborn old Tory like Mr. Brancrust himself, and Ada was left to think herself into crying, and then to cry herself out of thinking, and to amuse herself with looking at the dark side of things, and to wait lonely for her recreant Thomas. But Love, who is a strange young rascal, and does not pay much attention to the rights of property, the law of nations, the Nine Points of the Charter, or Universal Suffrage and Vote by Ballot, thought proper, in this instance, to make Tom forget all about the importance of his presence in the Fleecington councils, and instead of leading him to the "Cat and Trumpet,” took him (not much against his will either) to the old mill by the side of the river. Oh, how glad little Ada was when Tom came, and how soon her work and the dark side of things were both thrown by, that she might have a little pleasant cozy talk and a little pert scolding with him. But Tom, although pleased at her scolding, and saying many amiable and witty little things in defence of himself, did not seem altogether himself; he kept falling down from his forced spirits into a very horrid fit of gloom, and when there, required all Ada's energies to lift him up again. At last Ada, determined to show him how much she knew of his doings, said poutingly, "Ah, Mr. Tom! you can go to that odious Cat and Trumpet' when you can't come here!" This touched the right spring; Tom got up from his seat and walked up and down the room in a perturbed manner, Ada looking at him the whilst. He stopped short "Ah! that is it, Ada," said he, "whatever am I to do?-whatever are we to do ?" "Do! good gracious, Tom! what do you mean? Why go on as we do-loving one another to be sure!" and Ada's blue eyes opened very wide. "Well, I know all that Ada; but I mean about my vote." "Well, Mr. Tom, and what about your vote? You don't mean to go against my father, surely?" And she looked as if such a thing was impossible. ૨ "But I am bound by an oath-and they swore me on a drawn sword, Ada, and you know I can't break that.” "Very well, Tom; if you don't want to have me don't;" said Ada, rather unreasonably, and threw herself back in the chair with folded arms, in an attempt at dignity. This, of course, disturbed Tom more than ever, and the protestations he made afterwards, were they to be set down here in the broken language in which he uttered them, would be sadly offensive to the generality of readers; so I will rest content by saying that Tom tried hard to convince Ada of his duty to his country, and to the oath at the "Cat and Trumpet," and that after the expiration of a good hour Ada was leaning back in the chair, still unconvinced of any such thing, yet not with her arms folded or keeping up the dignity, but with her little white handkerchief up to her eyes, and the blue ribbon on her bosom heaving up and down with her sobbing, in the midst of which she kept saying, in a sadly choked voice-" And just as we were so happy, too—and just as all things were beginning to go smoothly too!" Now let our novel reading readers summon up all recollections of the uncomfortable which they have ever heard of or read in Bulwer, Dumas, Luc, or Hugo, and they will, on adding them altogether, have a tolerable idea of the state of poor Tom's mind, as he was engaged in comforting Ada. Sniggers, if he could have had his own way, would have been doomed to a warmer place than attorney's offices are in general, and to the smoking democrats would have been given an extra allowance of smoke. Indeed, after performing all that gentlemen are expected to do on such occasions, and strenuously wiping Ada's eyes with his handkerchief, he sat down on his own seat in utter despair, with serious thoughts of going quietly home and, by the aid of a razor, walking out of this unpleasant world. He didn't do that, however, for Ada recovered after a due season had elapsed, and then took to a sullen fit which Tom couldn't make out, and didn't at all like. At last, after some symptoms of falling back into the vale of tears again, Ada began to suppose "that what must be-must;" and that Tom, if he had sworn to vote such a way, must. And that they "must try to get her father round after the thing was done and couldn't be helped," and so forth, all of which was very often interrupted by certain rash proceedings of Tom's arms round Ada's neck, and certain singular doings of two pairs of lips. Tom being in bodily fear of the coming back of Mr. Brancrust, or perhaps afraid of another fit or two of crying, did not stay long after the pleasant arrangement was come to, but left, binding himself by all that was loveable to come on the following evening. Ada soon laid her head on her pillow after his departure, and was soon up and down, and anywhere, and anyhow in a complete chaos of weddings and elections, and Toms and fathers, and nameless other articles of delight in the mysterious region of dreams. Mr. Brancrust came home from his political and othodox pipesmoking, and was rather surprised that Ada was not up to bring his slippers and his boot-jack. He had been rather ruffled in temper since the day before, when he had heard of Tom's going to the Democratic Association meeting; but when the servant told him on inquiry that "missus had gone to bed poorly, she thought," all the good man's love for his dear Ada came back, and he went up as carefully as he could tread and watched her sleeping: his fatherly heart was satisfied by her calm breathing and smiling lips, and he went down to have one more pipe, and think about her whom he valued even more than his mill, or his money, or his life. (To be continued in our next.) PUSS IN THE STUDY. THE evening fell, with fog and gloom, My kitten, all that she could say Was such as cats express Her thanks for warmth, and cushion smooth, A purr of happiness. She climbed my knee, and tranquil lay Contentedly to rest; I watched the last faint sunset light That lingered in the west. Along our quiet country road A lordly carriage came, Th' impatient horses crashing o'er One rapid glimpse of rich costume, And listened with a wondering air, |