to reflect upon. Sir Stafford, I think, has hit upon the truth. Fancy those millions of the Queen's subjects in India, with all their Asiatic ideas of sovereign dignity, called upon to pay allegiance to a Commonwealth in London! Their imagination would never realise the majesty of a Congress or the authority of an elected President. In Canada there is really not much to prevent the setting up of an independent republic except the not easily defined but very real satisfaction of playing off the prestige of the British Crown against the somewhat colourless homeliness of the Government of the United States. As for our brethren in Australia, I do not believe they would acknowledge for one month the prerogative of the English Republic. I try to look at this question with the cold impartiality. of a mere outside spectator, and when I have done my utmost in that direction I still cannot resist the conclusion that if the tendency of political science is towards a republican form of government, Great Britain must be one of the very last to yield to the influence, seeing that she has during so many ages committed herself to the task of reconciling monarchy with liberty, and remembering also the peculiar nature of our imperial responsibility in the East.

By virtue of the freemasonry of letters it may be permitted to SYLVANUS URBAN to take a liberty with those who have a kindly feeling for the craft, in the name of a much-beloved brother, now, alas! no longer with us. I do not address a single word to those who were personally acquainted with Mark Lemon, for those who knew the man loved him, and will not wait to be reminded that the time is come to pay a tribute to his memory in the form pointed out by events which the late editor of Punch, in the midst of his work and duty, did not, happily for himself, foresee. I speak rather to those who knew only by repute that the pure tone, the generous feeling of the great English organ of humour and satire, and its unquestioned adaptation to the domestic life of the Anglo-Saxon people were due in a very great measure to him whose name was least mentioned in connection with the publication, though his personal devotion to the work was unintermittent. What might be said as a reason for taking thought just now of the work he did, of the man that he was, and of our obligations towards him, I hesitate to repeat; for were this a matter in private life among the honourable and the kindly, what should be done would be done without a word. But Mark Lemon was a public man, and so it happens that the public must be taken into confidence. Perhaps it is a false feeling that suggests a delicate reticence in this case, where there is nothing to apologise for, and only the plain truth to tell that, by reason of circumstances beyond the control of our brother in letters, the family who have to mourn the loss of him are not in a position to say No to the friends who have offered to put to the proof the generous feeling of the public for the memory of the first editor of Punch. I will not believe either that the appeal will be made in vain, or that it will need to be

urged with a persistency calculated to wound the sensitiveness which, judging by myself, I know comes very near the surface in any question of respect and affection towards Mark Lemon. I will say no more but this, that the name of the widow of this good and true man of letters ought to be on the civil list set apart for honourable recognition of claims like his. I do not, indeed, know how the First Lord of the Treasury could find ground to resist this claim, fairly presented and supported as it may be by such facts as I do not think it needful to dilate upon here.

THE

GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE

FEBRUARY, 1872.

SATANELLA.

A STORY OF PUNCHESTOWN.

BY G. J. WHYTE MELVILLE, AUTHOR OF "THE GLADIATORS," &c.

CHAPTER VIII.

INSATIABLE.

Y DEAR GENERAL,-As I know it is impossible to catch you for luncheon, come and see me at three, before I go out.-Yours most sincerely,

No date, of course.

"CLARA LUSHINGTON."

The General, nevertheless, ordered his hack at half-past two, in confident expectation of finding his correspondent at home.

He was ushered into perhaps the prettiest boudoir in London-a nest of muslin, filagree, porcelain, and exotics, with a miniature aviary in one window, a miniature aquarium in the other, a curtain over the door, and a fountain opposite the fire-place. Here he had an opportunity of admiring her taste before the fair owner appeared, examining in turn all the ornaments on her chimney-piece and writing table, amongst which, with pardonable ostentation, a beautifully mounted photograph of her husband was put in the most conspicuous place.

He was considering what on earth could have induced her to marry its original, when the door opened for the lady in person, who appeared, fresh, smiling, and exceedingly well-dressed. Though she had kept her visitor waiting, he could not grudge the time thus spent, when he observed how successful it had been turned to

account.

VOL. VIII., N.S. 1872.

K

"You got my note," said she, pulling a low chair for him close to the sofa on which she seated herself. "I wonder if you wondered why I wanted to see you! 1!"

The experience of St. Josephs had taught him it is well to let these lively fish run out plenty of line before they are checked, so he bowed, and said, "He hoped she had found something in which he could be of use."

"Use!" repeated the lady. "Then you want me to think you consider yourself more useful than ornamental. General, I should like to know if you are the least bit vain."

"A little, perhaps, of your taking me up," he replied, laughing; "of nothing else, I think, in the world."

She stole a glance at him from under her eyelashes, none the less effective that these had been darkened before she came down. "And yet, I am sure, you might be," she said softly, with something of a sigh.

The process, he thought, was by no means unpleasant; a man could undergo it a long time without being tired.

"Do you know I'm interested about you?" she continued, looking frankly in his face. "For your own sake-a little; for somebody else's-a great deal. Have you never heard of flowers that waste their sweetness on the desert air?'" "And blush unseen?" he replied.

you think it's becoming?"

"I'm blushing now. Don't

"Do be serious!" she interposed, laying a slim white hand on his sleeve. "I tell you I have your welfare at heart. That's the reason you are here now. If I cannot be happy myself, at least I like to help others. Everybody ought to marry the right person. Don't you think so? You've got a right person. Why don't you marry her?"

Watching him narrowly, she perceived, by the catch of his breath, the quiver of his eye-lid, that for all his self-command her thrust had gone straight home.

His was too manly a nature to deny its allegiance. "Do you think she would have me," said he, simply and frankly, "if I was to ask her?"

Mrs. Lushington never liked him better than now. To this worldly weary, manoeuvring woman, there was something inexpressibly refreshing in his unaffected self-depreciation. "What a fool the girl is !" she thought; "why, she ought to jump at him!" But what he said, was-" Qui cherche trouve. If you don't put the question,

how can you expect to have an answer? Are you so spoilt, my dear General, that you expect women to drop into your mouth like overripe fruit? What we enjoy is, to be worried and teased over and over again, till at last we are bored into saying 'Yes' in sheer weariness, and to get rid of the subject. How can you be refused, much more accepted, if you won't even make an offer?"

Do you know what it is to care for somebody very much?" said he, smoothing his hat with his elbow, as a village-maiden on the stage plaits the hem of her apron. "What you suggest seems the boldest game no doubt; but it is like putting all one's fortune on a single throw. Suppose the dice come up against me, can you wonder I am a little afraid to lift the box?"

"I cannot fancy you afraid of anything," she answered with an admiring glance; "not even of failure, though it would probably be a new sensation. You know what Mr. Walters says-(he winced, and she saw it)—'When you go to a fighting-house, you should take a fighting man.' So I say, 'When you are in a tangle about women, ask a woman to get you out of it.' Put yourself in my hands, and when you dress for dinner, you shall be a proud and a happy General !"

His face brightened.

"I should be very happy," said he, "I

honestly confess, if Miss Douglas would consent to be my wife. you advise me to ask her at once?"

Do

"Let

"This very day, without losing a minute!" was the answer. me have to congratulate her when I call to drive her out at halfpast five."

The General looked at the clock, smoothing his hat more vigorously than ever. "It's nearly four now," said he, in a faltering voice. "Mrs. Lushington, I am really most grateful. It's too kind of you to take such an interest in my affairs. Would you mind telling me? Women understand these things much better than men. If you were in my place, do you think I ought? I mean what is the best plan? In short, would you advise me to call, and ask her point-blank, or to-to write a line, you know-very explicit and respectful, of course, and tell the servant to wait for an answer?"

She was very near laughing in his face, but mastered her gravity, after a moment's reflection, and observed sententiously—

"Perhaps in your case a few lines would be best. You can write them here if you like, or at your club. The shorter the better. And," she added, shaking hands with him very kindly, while he rose to take leave," whichever way it goes, you will let me know the result."