relapses into morose silence. With neither of these can the unlucky swain please his beloved. To-day he chanced to be in a conversational mood, and at "Mittagessen" he entered with wild spirit into an argument with Frau Auerbach about American produce.

"I don't care what anyone says," he vociferated, thumping the table in his energy, and shouting at the top of his voice; "you won't find anything-grapes, even—that we can't grow better in America! Ah! I'd like you ladies to see our Californian farms. There are the vineyards of the future-there!"

"You won't make us believe that," said Frau Auerbach, quite disgusted. This was touching the Germans in their tenderest point.

"Wal, America's a new country," went on the imperturbable Yankee, "and a new country is of course up to all the newest dodges -the most go-ahead notions in farming. Why, everything is better in America! Only look at our beer-breweries! We sell more beer in New York in a month than is sold in any big town in Germany in a yeır."

This mode of reckoning the excellence of produce-by quantity alias quality rather staggered the Germans for a minute. But Mrs. Jackson, who sat next to her compatriot, here said quietly in his ear:

"You'd better just shut up; you're talking a lot of bosh of what you know nothing about. I wouldn't make a spectacle of myself if I was you."

However, the irrepressible was to-day not easily snubbed, even by his lady-love. He was only silenced for a short breathing-space. Everything in America, according to him, was better than it could possibly be elsewhere. He was nothing if not patriotic. Somebody unwisely started talking about music. Mr. Binns struck in at once.

"Wal," he said, "I reckon you've had the greatest composers. We can't beat them in our country, though perhaps we may yet. But we're musical, you bet. To give you an idea-why, I know of a store in New York where they keep no less than 5,000 pieces of music in stock. Ah! we're a musical nation. I've got a brother who plays-I'd like you ladies to hear him. There's passion, there's fire for you! Why, he plays so well that it's no exaggeration to say that the perspiration drops from off him! That's playing, if you like. As for ladies-I grant you, they can play fantasias, light pieces; but like a man, never! they've not got the muscular strength to do it."

All this, shouted at the top of a stentorian voice, and but vaguely understood by the Germans, simply made them open their mouths. They were overcome by the manner, if not by the matter.

July 10.-The dance last night was very novel, though Mattie and I are both a little exhausted by its results. These I will proceed to relate. The party from our villa arrived in good time, though Mr. Binns had nearly made Mattie and me late, by begging our assistance in the choice of a bouquet for Mrs. Jackson. He had ransacked all the flower-shops in the arcade before he could find one recherché enough to please her. At last he settled on one composed of giant violets and white jessamine. "That's just the thing for a widow-half-mourning, you know," he said to us approvingly, "and she'll think it such good taste. That'll go a long way with a woman like Mrs. Jackson."

And certainly Mrs. Jackson, touched either by her widow's bouquet, or perhaps by a lecture that had been delivered to her that afternoon by all the German ladies in conclave, à propos of her cruelty to poor Mr. Binns, showed herself quite amiable to him, and danced with him several times. The ball-room was crowded. Dr. Frickel was there, dancing with all his patients in turn; Dr Zickinger was laughing and talking with pretty Elise; even old Dr Marx put in an appearance. Marie sat on the daïs, refusing every partner, and looking-like Mr. Horatio Sparkins-as if she "thought of nothing earthly"; while Fräulein Bertha, resplendent in white book-muslin and amber beads, and with her hair done à l'anglaise, was consumed by an all-devouring hope, Will Dr. Frickel dance with her? Yes, she is not disappointed: he comes, engages her for a waltz, quite cutting out a military cousin, who stands by enviously twirling his waxed moustache.

Mattie danced with everybody. I danced with Mr. Binns, who confided to my sympathetic ear all his hopes and fears with regard to the fair widow; and with the uxorious Franz, who trod on my toes dreadfully, and asked me every minute how I thought his Louise was looking. Now Louise is a stout and somewhat apathetic young woman at the best of times; and this evening-clad in a badly fitting mauve dress which did not suit her complexion, and which, being very short, left visible her big sandalled feet-she looked decidedly lumpy. But she was satisfied with herself, which after all is the great thing to attain. When Franz led me back to where his Louise was sitting, the young wife exclaimed, "Oh! does not my husband dance beautifully? One seems quite to glide through. the air with him," and she looked at him with loving eyes.

There is no doubt but that those married couples are happiest who belong to this kind of Mutual Admiration Society. The only objection to it is that it makes outsiders often feel "de trop," and

I felt quite relieved when Louise and Franz whirled off again, and left me to my own devices.

I was laughing a few minutes later over this little episode with Mattie, when suddenly a young man approached us, and asked her for a dance. It was Marie's lover. He had apparently turned up for the occasion, with no other object than to make his recalcitrant betrothed jealous; for he had made himself his very smartest, and, with a large carnation in his buttonhole, tried to look as "dashing as possible. Mattie danced with him, nothing loth, and it would have been as well if this had constituted all his sins; for he now proceeded, under his former sweetheart's very eyes, to flirt outrageously with the pretty black-eyed confectioner's daughter of Bad-Langeweile. Marie's eyes grew furious, her lip scornful. Not a look of recognition did she vouchsafe her "Schatz." The bail over, we left the Kurhaus; and now the lover wished to make amends, for I heard him offer to escort her up the hill. She repulsed him angrily; but just then I caught sight of Mr. Binns and Mrs. Jackson in the distance, and not wishing to be again mixed up in a lovers' quarrel, I fled back, so to speak, from the frying-pan into the fire.

'Well," Mrs. Jackson was saying as I came up, "if this isn't enough to make a woman vow she'll never give in again! Here I've danced with you four times to-night, and worn your flowers, and now you want me to promise all sorts of things more! What can I do with him?" she added, appealing to me.

"Oh, look here, Annie! I mean Mrs. Jackson," the unfortunate Thompson interposed, "don't be hard on a fellow. I only want you to say you'll take me on trial. Here have I been hanging on here for weeks, and ruining my constitution with baths and iron which I don't want, and you leading me the life of a dog, and all for no use. This lady thinks you might give me a chance-now don't you, Miss? I'd really make you a good husband; you might have a worse. T. B.'s going to be good to the girl that he marries, you bet!"

“Well, there!" said Mrs. Jackson, "I don't say I won't think over it, as it seems you're so set on it; but only on one condition, which is that you don't plague me any more to-night. Good-bye, both of you!" and the erratic little woman, ruthlessly abandoning the unwilling witness of this tender scene, ran up the hill laughing, leaving Mr. Thompson standing alone in the darkness. When he and I reached the villa gate, we found everyone in a state of great excitement, and all the old ladies standing beshawled in the road,

in extreme terror. The young girl's lover was reported to have taken to the wood, with wild threats of suicide. No time was to be lost. We forgot our fatigue and all hurried out in search of him. Mattie ran in one direction, I in another, Fräulein Bertha in another. Eventually we ran the culprit to earth, and Bertha and I held him while Mattie searched in his pockets for imaginary pistols. A more ludicrous scene was surely never seen.

"Can't I take a little walk in the wood by myself?" the young man said angrily, and it must be allowed that his anger was not altogether without excuse. "Am I a fool to want to kill myself for the sake of such a girl as that? No, indeed! ha, ha !”

We discovered no pistols, and returned to the villa after exacting a solemn promise of good behaviour. We found Mr. Binns calmly smoking a cigar in the garden. "I thought you ladies would prove more insinuating," he remarked.

Insinuating! It was main force we had used. And our work was not yet ended. The young girl had, with much presence of mind, taken to her bed and gone into violent hysterics. Her shrieks filled the house. Two hours at least were spent in administering restoratives, and only in the small hours of the morning did I venture to leave her, still mingling sobbing anathemas against the "zweiter Schatz," with various fond recollections of the "erster." Hurriedly groping my way upstairs in the dark I found Mattie awaiting me impatiently.

"Do you call this improving your health?" she cried, and added viciously, "I've no patience with such rubbish!"

Mattie is certainly intolerant.

August 4.-All my friends are either gone or thinking of going, and what is worse, Mattie has been telegraphed for by her mother. The young girl has also taken her departure, and this is decidedly one weight the less on my mind. As to her "bridegroom," we are none of us quite certain whether or no she will eventually pardon him, but we think it highly probable—that is, unless yet a "dritter Schatz" appear in the unforgiving interval. Frau Auerbach has paid her farewell visit to Dr. Frickel, who, as a parting gift, has presented her with a little book of which he is the author, dealing with all sorts of possible and terrible diseases. Frau Auerbach thanked him for this kind attention, but she seems to find the book very far from comforting. By dint of much imagination and persistent study of the little volume, she has not been long in arriving at the conclusion that she has every disease it mentions. This little gift of Dr. Frickel's is certainly diplomatic.

I have made several shopping expeditions to the pretty bazaars in the promenade, and on one of these I fell deeply in love with some quaint red china, said by the snuffy, wizened, old "dealer in antiquities" to be at least a hundred years old. Mattie being far away, I consulted Mrs. Jackson as to its purchase. "Oh, dear!" said that lady (who looked at everything, Mr. Thompson Binns included, from a purely business-like point of view), "what's the use of buying old china? Why, you can get new for half the price! lovely sets in the newest fashion, shipped from New York. No, don't throw away your money!" This last piece of advice was good, at any rate. I put my purse aside and we turned home, for on this particular evening -yesterday evening-a farewell supper, or "Abschiedsfest," was to be held in the Villa Clara. It was to be another "grand occasion." All day long Elise and her mother had been busy in the kitchen over culinary works of art. I had helped to stir the pudding, and Bertha had arranged the flowers, while Frau Auerbach made punch in the seclusion of her own room, and Mr. Thompson Binns prepared mysterious American beverages in the back-yard. The spirits of this latter have risen wonderfully since Mrs. Jackson has allowed him to hope.

As eight o'clock struck the guests arrived punctually. Among the first of these was Fräulein Bertha's military cousin, a young officer. Mr. Binns welcomed him with his usual unerring tact.

"I'm glad to see you, sir," he said blandly, shaking the stranger's hand with fervour, "and to be supported by you in my trying position -the only bachelor among so many ladies! Ah! one wants a man sometimes to talk to."

This speech was perhaps not quite in accordance with German ideas of gallantry, but fortunately few of the ladies present understood it.

The dinner passed merrily, and with the punch came an unexpected treat; for Fräulein Bertha had composed an ode in honour of the "Abschiedsfest," bringing in sentimental little references to all and everyone at the Villa Clara. Even Elise's mother, a fat, good-tempered old thing, who combined the offices of cook and landlady, was not forgotten. The poem contained several carefully worked-in allusions to her, and she was forcibly brought in, with her white cap tied under the chin and bibbed cooking apron, to hear them. She tried to smile pleasantly on everyone, but she looked as supremely uncomfortable as a fish out of water, and had evidently about as much notion of poetry as an elephant has of skating. The only thing in Bertha's poem at which an unkind critic (had any such