forbidden by the Hindu faith), and of the use and value of money she was utterly ignorant; in short, I was obliged to bring her home, which I did, accompanied by a mob of about forty street-boys, and a policeman in the distance; I had told him of her calamity, and he could suggest no remedy beyond the station-house, but the situation interested him.

By the skilful cross-examination of my wife, it was elicited from the ayah that she had gone out for a walk that morning with the child, and had been walking ever since, probably in a circle.

'But Jones must be the greatest idiot in Great Britain,' said I, 'to send a nurse out with his child who can't speak English, and who doesn't know her way?'

'Perhaps he didn't want to see either of them again,' observed my wife, with dismal sagacity.

Then I perceived what a very unwashable material this article I had become responsible for might turn out to be to have a strange child on one's hands for life was bad enough, but to adopt a black woman with a ring through her nose and turn-up slippers! It might be that we were about to entertain an angel unawares, but I am bound to say she didn't look like it.

I suppose she must have sheets to her bed' said my wife doubtfully, when discussing the arrangements for the night.

'Yes, yes; her colour is fast enough,' returned I gloomily; she is not an Ethiopian serenader.'

Not a syllable indeed did she sing or say, beyond 'Yes' or 'No,' and 'Jone,' while she remained under our roof, which was only for twelve hours; nor did the fat child open its mouth except for food, which it devoured voraciously.

After breakfast the next morning came Jones (of India), whom the police had informed of the asylum which his offspring had received. He swore in Hindustanee at the ayah, boxed the child's ears for being frightened at his father's violence, and then expressed his thanks to my wife (for I was gone to the City) for her 'injudicious hospitality." I am sure your husband meant well,' he was good enough to say, 'but I should have had much less trouble if he had left matters to the police.'

It was the remembrance of this fiasco that made me even more practical than usual on the present occasion, and caused me to hesitate in constituting myself' Rosey's' temporary guardian.

You have told me your Christian name, my pretty child, but what is your surname ?'

'My turname?' It was plain that I might as well have asked her the explanation of the SlesvigHolstein difficulty, at that time at its acmé of complexity.

'What is your papa's name?'

She shook her head till the golden curls fell over her sweet face as the summer wind scatters the laburnum.

'And mamma's?'

'Mamma? Me no mamma,' answered she quietly, as she buttoned and unbuttoned the chin-strap of the inspector's cap; an indifference far more pathetic to behold than any tears.

'But where is your home, Rosey?' 'Home?' Even that word had no meaning for her, it seemed; and yet her dress and manner shewed that she had experienced dutiful, if not kindly ministrations. Her unsuspecting trust and confidence told also the same tale.

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Are you at school, then, darling?' "Et!-here she brightened up, well pleased to find her questioner at last intelligible' me at tool.' And where is your school, Rosey?'

Here she became a laburnum again; names and places were evidently not her strong point; she might have dropped from the skies themselves for all she knew of whence she came or whither she was going.

The station she had come from, the inspector said, was Crewe a large manufacturing town and junction-so much was told by her ticket, and by the company's luggage label upon a large box that had come with her, but which had otherwise no address.

'What is to be done with her, Mr Inspector?' 'Well, the woman in charge of the waitingrooms will look after her for the night, I daresay. I would take her home myself, if I had not a house full of brats already, though, Heaven knows, I don't want to lose any of 'em. Every lady as has seen the child took notice of her, and gave her tarts and things in the refreshment-room; but when it comes to taking her home with them-why, that is quite another matter. It's so few wives, and still fewer husbands, as dares to do it, you see.'

'Well, this is my card,' said I; and I will take her to my wife as a Christmas present. I suppose Mr Gibbins will turn up to-morrow morning at latest.'

'Well, if the worst comes to the worst, you can but send her to the work'us, you know-poor little innocent soul;' and with that he kissed her.

If I had not been of so practical a nature, and if the regulations of the company had not forbidden it, I could have almost given that inspector five shillings; as it was, I left that amount with him for incidental expenses-giving me early news of Gibbins, or what not-and then I called a cab. 'Rosey, my dear, I shall take you home with me,' said I : you must want rest and supper.' 'But Tosey must tum too,' said Rosey.

'By all means.' I thought Tosey was some doll that she had left in the waiting-room, and accompanied her thither to get it, while her box was being lifted on to the cab.

In one of those vast and cheerless apartments with which railway travellers who arrive too soon, or too late, are so well acquainted, I found the woman in charge pacing up and down the place with a large bundle in her arms.

6

'Hullo, missey!' said she 'so you have found your friend at last.-I must say, sir,' added she, addressing herself to me, that you have given me a great deal of trouble-though I don't grudge it, poor little fellow-in minding this boy for the whole afternoon. He's as good as gold for one of his years, but of course he's dog-tired, and ought to have been in his cot hours ago.' 'Why, what boy is that?' inquired I, with a vague sense of apprehension.

Dat my itty brodder Tosey,' explained my small companion. Now, Tosey, tum alon: the coachey-poachey is waiting.'

There were two of them! Only those who have had twins unexpectedly presented to them, can picture to themselves my feelings at that moment. There was, however, nothing for it but to say with the pincushion-nay, with two pincushions'Welcome, little strangers.'

My object was to draw a deduction from experience that might inspire confidence in these young persons being taken off our hands, of which in reality I by no means felt assured; but I had made a mistake in mentioning Jones of Bengal.

'We shall doubtless get no thanks for whatever we do,' remarked my wife tartly, at the same time taking off Rosey's multitudinous wraps with tender solicitude. I have no patience with wretches who leave their little children alone and friendless in the great waste of London. I wonder where they expect to go to.'

Yes, and where they expect their children to go to,' rejoined I. However, it isn't Rosey's fault, nor Tosey's.'

If the children had looked beautiful in their furs and wraps, they appeared still more attractive now that they were in their under-garments, which shewed their grace of movement. Rosey's limbs were very slender, but she climbed actively enough into the chair that had been set for her at the teatable, though not before she had seen Tosey's more plump proportions already seated in his. It was plain that she still considered him under her charge and conduct. When my wife cut her a slice of cake, she passed it on to her brother, and broke it into small pieces for him, as one breaks bread to feed the birds; nor, while attending to his physical comforts, did she neglect his manners. 'What does Tosey say?' inquired she, 'to the lady who gives him cake?'

Tosey stared at her in shocked surprise. Could she not see that he was eating?-indulging in the only occupation in which (as she must be aware) he took at present any satisfaction? Nay, even upon the lowest ground, who could be expected to reply to abstract questions, who has his mouth quite full of currant cake? Again she appealed to his sense of politeness, and this time he transferred his eyes from her fair face to the central ornament of the ceiling, at which he stared, and continued to stare (though eating all the time) with an intensity that riveted our own attention also.

'Now what does Tosey say when he is dood, and has had his cake?' repeated the other, more persuasively even than before.

'Moa' (more).

At this my wife burst out laughing, and threw her arms about his neck. Did you ever hear such a sensible child,' cried she, to say More instead of Ta? Why, it's human nature in a nut-shell.' It was one form of human nature, no doubt; but it was another-though, alas, one not so much dwelt upon by the theologians-to see Rosey's unselfish solicitude for Tosey's comfort, as though a nightingale should take a wren under its wing, and tend it. And the wren acknowledged her loving service. Tosey declined the offer of my wife's assistance to descend from his chair, with a certain austere calmness. 'You mean well, I have no doubt, my good woman,' his manner seemed to say; but this honour is reserved for another: it pleases her, and I am disposed to please her, when there is no temptation to do otherwise.' So Rosey's outstretched arms received him, after his repast; and in their loving hold he instantly fell asleep, like a despot gorged with wine and meat, in the embrace of some favoured slave. My wife carried him to bed herself; while Elizabeth carried Rosey, a burden scarcely heavier than he-her blue eyes heavy with sleep, her golden hair streaming be

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hind her like a sheaf of stars. The painter who drew Jacob's Ladder with the angels ascending it, must have seen some such spectacle as that, I think, on his own stairs at home.

THE WAVERLEY DRAMAS. COMPARATIVELY few persons now living can remember the excitement caused by the appearance of a new fiction by the author of Waverley. Circulating libraries were besieged by their customers, eager to be favoured with an early perusal of the new book. In some libraries, each volume was divided and bound in two portions; and at Bath and other fashionable places of the period, they were sometimes split into three parts to facilitate reading. The writer remembers seeing, in a Scottish provincial town, the novel of Guy Mannering bound in portions of a hundred pages, each of which, at that time (1832), was lent to read at the price of twopence per night. It consisted in all of ten parts, the reading of which, at the price named, cost one shilling and eightpence; and the feat of perusal, in a case we personally know of, was achieved, not in ten nights, but in a gallop of eight hours! When the Leith smack which carried these literary treasures to London arrived in the Thames, no matter that it might be midnight, or that it might be Sunday evening, the London agents of the Edinburgh publishers were on the alert, and had porters and vehicles in readiness to carry off the treasures to the Row, or to '90 Cheapside,' where-the books being, as it is technically called, in 'quires'-the bookbinders were in readiness to perform their work, so that in a very few hours copies were on the way by coach and wagon to all parts of the country.

A good story is related apropos of the 'quires,' which has never yet, so far as we know, appeared in print. A nobleman, living in a rather inaccessible part of England, had sent up his valet to London expressly to procure for himself and guests the new Scottish novel, which was expected to reach the great metropolis by the day the coach set out for the town in Lincolnshire which was nearest the gentleman's residence. The valet, having a friend in Messrs Hurst and Robinson's warehouse, was assured that he would obtain an early copy. Unfortunately, the smack did not arrive till the next coach-day, and only cast anchor in the Thames three hours before the starting of the vehicle. A copy of the novel could not be bound in time; and the valet, determined not to lose other two days, would not wait, but set off at once with his master's copy of the work in quires, intending to have it bound by the local binder of the town near the country-seat of his lordship. A gig, however, was in waiting at the inn for the arrival of the messenger, with a message for him to return home at once, as the book was eagerly waited for. No sooner did he reach his destination, than the packet was impatiently opened; but when the condition of the book was seen, all were embarrassed: it was comprised in unfolded sheets, and no one knew what to do with them! The robbers' cave without the Open sesame' of Ali Baba was not a greater cause of chagrin than the possession of a Waverley novel which could not be read. The sheets were greedily seized, however, by the guests staying in the house; but, as a matter of course, they found it rather difficult to

get through them. At length, a young lady, a daughter of the house, by much studying and examining of the pages, and after having dissected a sheet or two into leaves, discovered how to fold them; and in the library, sheet by sheet properly folded, this young gentlewoman handed the novel to a gentleman, who, cutting open the leaves, read aloud the story for the pleasure of the company.

It was not likely that such a rich quarry as the Waverley novels and romances would be long neglected by the London dramatists. Theatrical managers knew very well that the great mass of the population could not afford either to buy the new novels, or even subscribe to an expensive library, and that, therefore, dramatic versions of these popular stories would be sure to draw large audiences to their houses. So, after a time, as soon as a new novel by the author of Waverley was published, and on some occasions even before that event took place, the story was produced with all advantages of scenery and correct costume, both upon the metropolitan and provincial stages. The Waverley drama which has attained by far the largest share of popularity is undoubtedly Rob Roy, but the first of the novels to be dramatised was Guy Mannering. It was prepared for the London stage by the ingenious comedian,' Mr Daniel Terry, a personal friend of the author, and a rather celebrated actor of the period, in such parts as Lord Ogleby and Sir Peter Teazle. Mr Terry was quite fitted to be a companion even to Sir Walter Scott, as he was a man of good culture, skilled in the old literature of the drama, and possessed of artistic taste and antiquarian knowledge of a high order. With reference to the play of Guy Mannering, it is said that the great novelist had himself a finger in the pie of its production, and that he gave both good advice and practical aid in its construction. It is certain, at all events, that he contributed to it the song of the Lullaby, and, as he was at that time the 'Great Unknown,' it was suggested that the secret of the authorship of the Waverley Novels might be untimeously developed by means of the song. Sir Walter, however, was of a different opinion, or rather he thought that the two things would not be put together. "I am afraid,' he wrote to Terry, 'I am in a scrape about the song, and that of my own making; for, as it never occurred to me that there was anything odd in my writing two or three verses for you, which have no connection with the novel, I was at no pains to disown them.' The song in question is the one beginning:

Oh! slumber, my darling; Thy sire is a knight; Thy mother a lady,

So lovely and bright.

As the Great Unknown could not see how fathering the song would be acknowledging the novel, the song was duly sung, and was thought a feature of the drama. Miss Joanna Baillie was a contributor to the stage Guy Mannering, which was brought out as a kind of opera, there being in it duets, glees, and other music, composed by Sir Henry Bishop. The play, with all its shortcomings, was highly successful, especially in London, where it had the advantage of being played with an excellent cast of characters. In Edinburgh, where the play was likely to be much criticised, it was not

nearly so well liked as in London. The Edinburgh audience is the most critical in the kingdom. Both Dandie Dinmont and Dominie Sampson became great favourites, and Meg Merrilies was remarkably well personated. Sir Walter, when this drama, or rather, as it ought properly to be called, semiopera, was announced, made a joke of the subject by saying he had been "Terry-fied.' The great author enjoyed the play very much himself, as he also did Rob Roy, and indeed all the series of the Waverley dramas as they were produced. About the time of their production, he had begun to take considerable interest in local dramatic affairs, having not only bought a share in the Edinburgh Theatre-royal, but become one of the trustees of the building. Moreover, his friend, James Ballantyne, was a dramatic critic, and had an excellent knowledge of the stage-literature of the time, as well as of how it should be acted; and John Ballantyne being personally acquainted with all the performers, great and small, often invited them to his house, so that the Great Unknown had opportunities of seeing all the dramatic celebrities who came to the Modern Athens; besides, the chief actors and actresses were in those days received in the best society of the city.

The Edinburgh theatre, in the early days of the Waverley dramas, was under the management of Mr Henry Siddons, a son of the great actress, whom Sir Walter was instrumental in bringing to Scotland. He was succeeded by Mr W. H. Murray, his brother-in-law, who was a great personal favourite, and much petted by the author of Waverley.

Mr Terry, who ultimately became lessee of the Adelphi Theatre in London, and who was supported by Sir Walter in this enterprise to the extent of one thousand five hundred pounds, had become most useful to his great patron. Whilst the building of Abbotsford, the great novelist's 'romance in stone and lime,' was going forward, a constant stream of correspondence was carried on. Terry had named his first-born, a son, after the lord of Abbotsford; and was so fond of the great man, that he actually took the greatest amount of pains to imitate his handwriting! In fact, his hero-worship knew no bounds. The comedian did not rest satisfied with his edition of Guy Mannering, but, in course of time, adapted to the stage one or two of Sir Walter's other novels, in particular the Heart of Mid-Lothian, which, however, being more by Terry than by the author of Waverley, was a comparative failure. The reading class of those days, who had the words of the novels strong in their memory, found it intolerable that the language of Sir Walter should be tampered with for the purposes of stage illustration. It was de rigueur in the adaptations of the period to hold to the language of the author, and, in consequence, the edition of the Heart of Mid-Lothian which was produced at the Surrey Theatre in London, as a melodrama, in three acts, by Mr Dibdin, on the 13th of January 1819, was held to be incomparably the better of the two dramas. It will be as well, however, to be chronological in our little narrative, and not anticipate the sequence of production.

Rob Roy M'Gregor, or Auld Langsyne, adapted to the stage by Mr Isaac Peacock, was produced at Covent Garden Theatre, London, on the 12th of March 1818. Its success was instantaneous, and it has kept its hold upon the stage ever since, and