just consented to waltz with her brother, and was then whirling past the very spot where her husband stood, with a pallid face and compressed lips, heedless of all else save his wife's movements. Too much agitated to think or to reason, he not only condemned her at once, in his heart, for dancing at all, but concluded, from a similarity of height and figure, that her partner was a gentleman whose openly expressed admiration for Myra on a previous occasion had sorely irritated him; and rushing from the place he regained the ship and buried himself in his cabin until the Wasp set sail at the appointed time.

Wyndham's appearance and flight were so sudden that Mr. Acland refused, at first, to believe the story; but he had been seen by so many who knew him well, and who were struck by the wildness of his manner, that it was impossible to dispute the fact, or to keep Myra in ignorance of it. When the truth became evident that her husband had been present and was no longer there, the poor girl fell fainting to the floor, and was carried in an insensible condition to Ellen's room.

Mr. Acland's subsequent efforts to unravel the apparent mystery were fruitless. He made enquiries, in the first place, of Myra's servant who told all she knew; and then proceeded to the ship, where he was informed by the quarter-master that Lieutenant Wyndham had left the vessel about ten o'clock and had not returned, a statement which he believed to be true as he had not seen him since. When morning came the ship was gone, and thus his friends were left in a state of uncertainty as to his fate almost impossible to describe. They clung, nevertheless, to the belief that he had eventually returned to the ship and sailed with her. The sudden shock affected Myra so severely that for several weeks her life was despaired of, and even months passed away before her mind was sufficiently restored to enable her to realise clearly all that had occurred; and how bitterly she reproached herself for her innocent acquiesence in the suggestions of others may be readily conceived.

In the meantime Charley fared no better. When in the silence of his own cabin, or in his solitary walks on deck, he reflected upon his hasty and brutal conduct, his self-reproaches almost drove him mad. It was in vain that he bewailed his thoughtlessness and cruelty in not seeing his wife, or seeking an explanation from his friend Acland. It was too late now to repair his error, and thus two loving hearts were estranged and well-nigh broken by one sudden unreflecting action.

By the time the Wasp arrived at Callao, Wyndham had brooded so long over his own misery, and his body and mind had become so weakened by the struggle, that he soon became an easy prey to the fever then raging there; and as the ship was, for some inscrutable reason, recalled almost immediately, an effort was made to place poor Charley in one of the hospitals in Lima, about six miles from the port, where Captain Stewart was most reluctantly compelled to leave him.

On the logical and most hopeful assumption that Wyndham was still on board the Wasp, Mr. Acland lost no time in writing out to him, asking for an explanation of his conduct, and describing its effect on his

wife's health. Unfortunately by the time the mail steamer reached Callao, the Wasp was already on her return voyage, so that the letters never reached him. Thus month after month passed by and Myra received no tidings of her husband, until his ship returned to Southampton and Captain Stewart himself was the bearer of the news to Mr. Acland.

When Myra was informed of her husband's illness, she bravely determined to go to him, and accordingly set sail in the first steamer bound for Callao. The captain of this vessel was, fortunately, a personal friend of Mr. Acland, so that Myra was provided with every comfort, and the long voyage made as easy as possible for her, without the necessity of entering into any explanations which would have been painful to her sensitive nature.

Charley, in the meantime, had recovered from the fever and was regaining his strength slowly but surely, when he again became a victim. to good intentions, and his own perverse nature. It happened in this wise. A young gentleman, son of a Liverpool merchant, who had come out by the mail steamer to look after some business affairs in Lima, hearing that a young Englishman was lying ill at the hospital, obtained permission to visit him, in the hope of relieving the weary hours of the invalid by reading and lively conversation. Naturally enough his gossip referred chiefly to England and English affairs, always so interesting to wanderers from home. Ignorant of the circumstances attending Wyndham's illness, and even of the fact of his being a married man, he described, among other incidents, his recent introduction to the Vane family, and innocently enough intimated that he was over-head-and-ears in love with Mr. Vane's daughter. That he should have been even but slightly acquainted with Mr. Vane without knowing something of Myra's trouble may seem somewhat surprising; but it will be readily understood that her family and friends were not anxious to refer to the unfortunate event.

Now, it would appear to be the most natural thing in the world for Wyndham to ask to which daughter his friend referred, but he was equally averse to say anything that would imply an acquaintance with the Vane family, or necessitate an allusion to his own conduct; but what was still worse he immediately jumped to the conclusion that Myra had returned to her father, and that she herself was the object of his companion's admiration. The result of this episode was a terrible relapse which, caused a renewal of his illness, and compelled his medical attendant to forbid any further interviews.

It was precisely at this juncture that Myra arrived at Lima, and presented herself at the hospital, where, on asking permission of the Superintendent to be allowed to see Lieutenant Wyndham, she was politely informed that the English doctor, Mr. Medhurst, had given strict injunctions that no stranger was to be admitted. Stranger! This was the cruellest stab of all. She a stranger? His own wife, who had journeyed thousands of miles to tend and comfort him. But, sharp as

was the blow, she was too brave to give way to needless grief, and too much in earnest to be easily baffled. Before many hours had passed she obtained an interview with the doctor and made herself and her errand known to him. The silent eloquence of her tears, and the fascination of her beauty soon melted the doctor's heart, and he permitted her to tend her husband disguised as a Sister of Charity, on the distinct promise that she would not reveal herself until she saw that Charley was strong enough to bear the surprise.

If I were a writer of fiction I should paint a charming and pathetic little word-picture describing the recognition, the explanation, and the reconciliation; but as I am a mere narrator of fact I will not attempt to overstep the boundaries of my profession. Enough for me to say that Wyndham's mental trouble being removed, his bodily health was soon restored; and the once-again happy couple, accompanied by their innocent mischief-maker from Liverpool, returned to England soon after, wiser, if not better, for the severe ordeal through which they had passed.

A. B.

THE FLEET OF ENEAS OVERTAKEN BY STORM.

PARAPHRASE OF VIRGIL.

ENEID 82-156.

Like charging hosts, the freed winds rushing forth,
Roar in resounding gales along the lands;

The South and East together rush, and them
The South-East joins, hurtling fierce blasts of storm;
Down on the seas they swoop, and move the deeps
Profound, and roll huge billows on the shore ;
Full on the tossing feet they strike, then shout
The sailors, and the whistling cordage creaks.
Sudden dark hurrying clouds o'erscud the sky,
Snatching the daylight from the Trojans' eyes,
And murky horror settles o'er the deep;
From pole to pole the deafening thunders peal,
And frequent lightnings quiver through the air.
Above, around, death hovers imminent,
Quelling all hope in each heroic heart.

Fear numbs Æneas, who with many a groan;

And suppliant hands towards heaven uplift, bewails

His fate:-"O thrice, and fourfold happy ones!
Whose lot it was to fall beneath the walls

Of lofty Troy, before your fathers' eyes.

O Diomed! of all the Grecian race,

The bravest! would thy red right hand had spilt
My life on Ilion's windy plain; where slain
By fierce Achille's spear, brave Hector lies;
Where sleeps to wake no more the giant-limbed
Sarpedon; where the rushing Simois rolls
His gurgling stream, and eddying whirls away,
In wild confusion mingled, helms and shields,
And bodies brave of far-famed heroes slain."

Three the fierce South

E'en as he speaks a blast roars from the North,
Bursting with direful brunt 'gainst the spread sail,
And heaves the deep on high swilling the stars.
Snap the frail oars; turned from her course the ship
Gives her strained side to meet the raging sea.
Follows a wave precipitous and vast,
Like a far mountain range; wide scattered plunge
The vessels; these o'erhang the dizzy ridge,
And those are swallowed in the yawning gulf
Unfolding secrets of the dreadful deep,
Where sands with surges roar.
Hurls on the hidden rocks; those dreaded reefs,
Called by the Romans "Altars," stretching far,
A monstrous ridge in middle ocean. Three-
Most piteous sight-down from the steepy wave
The South wind drives fast on the wrecking shoals,
Circled by shifting sands. The mounting sea
Down topples, crashing o'er the ship that bore
The Lycian troops by tried Orontes led;
Hurled from the deck, headlong the pilot falls;
Thrice whirls the flood the fated vessel round,
Which straight the swiftly eddying gulf devours.
Then arms of heroes, and rent planks are seen,
And Trojan treasures scattered o'er the waves
Far circling down the fathomless abyss.
Now the fierce tempest wrecks the sturdy ships
Of Ilioneus and brave Achates; next

Of Abas and Aletes old; soon all

Yield to the blast, and fast through gaping seams,
And timbers rent, the swirling waters pour.

But Neptune from his amber hall perceives
Unwonted tumult, billows tost on high, and dread
Down rushing gulfs, confounding all his realms;
And calmly peering o'er the troubled deep,
Observe the Trojan fleet in dire distress,
Hard press'd by ravening waves, and storms
Hurled ruinous from heaven. He angered at
The storm sent forth, and witless of the cause,
Remembering all his Sister Juno's hate,
Recalls the offending winds, and sternly chides:-
"Ye winds, that on presumptuous pinions soar,
Confounding with your uproar sea and sky,
Is insolence, long native to your race,

So bold to trespass on my sovereignty

:

And set at naught my will? Now shall you feelBut first these raging floods must needs be calmedThen shall I find a fitting punishment.

Back to your caves, and say to Æolus

Your King, the empire of the deep is mine,
Mine the dread trident. Vast and rugged rocks,
Your homes, assigned of old, are his domain;
There let him vaunt, and with despotic sway
Rule o'er the grim barr'd prison of the winds."

Thus as he speaks, he soothes the swelling sea;
Fast flee the legioned clouds; the winds are hushed ;
And o'er the waves, slow heaving to a calm,
The sun in all his wonted splendour shines.
Triton and Cymothoë by main strength
Heave off the vessels from the jagged rocks;
Then Neptune with his trident launches them
Again, and makes the raging whirlpools smooth-
A watery plain-where ships may safely sail,
And duly portions all the main, and glides
The surface o'er, on swift revolving wheels.
As when sedition 'mongst a people spreads,
And the low rabble gather in great crowds
Raging and violent; stones and timbers fly
Apace, for rage is soon supplied with arms;
If chance some man, well-known for blameless life,
Wisdom and worth, and service done the state,
Stand forth; their clamours die; they gather round
With ears attent; he with his words controls
Their stormy passions, and allays their rage.
So all the tumult of the deep subsides,
When the great God of Ocean shows his face,
Riding beneath high skies of cloudless blue;
And wheels his horses round, and flies along,
Slackening the loose reins from his rapid car.

-COTTESWOlde.

THE WORK OF THE SESSION.

Since our last Report, the following Meetings have been held :— December 16th, 1881.-DEBATE: "That Modern Hospitality, public and private, is wasteful and injurious." Affirmative-Messrs. Clement Gardiner, Claddo, T. Cund, Short, S. A. Daniell, and W. Perks. Negative-Messrs. P. Porter, J. Cund, Martin, C. C. Smith, J. Suffield, and G. I. Jones. Votes-Affirmative, 14; Negative, 12. 40 Members present. The Annual Conversazione was held at the Royal Hotel, Temple Row, on Friday, January 6th, 1882, and was attended by 138 members and friends. The proceedings commenced with a dramatic performance, entitled "Dearest Mamma," admirably rendered by Messrs. Newman, Reading, Jacques, Louder and other friends, to whom the Association is much indebted. Dancing followed, and the enjoyment of the evening was most thorough and satisfactory.