were they not? And how do you think they
succeeded ?"

"Do tell me, my dear fellow! " was the
answer that fell from Mr. Phippen's lips.
"I wonder whether Miss Sturch keeps a
bottle of camphor julep in the family
medicine chest ? " was the thought that passed
through Mr. Phippen's mind.

"Tell you! " exclaimed the vicar. " Why,
of course, every one of his plans turned out
a dead failure. His Cornish tenantry
received him as an interloper. The antiquity
of his family made no impression upon
them. It might be an old family, but it
was not a Cornish family, and, therefore, it
was of no importance in their eyes. They
would have gone to the world's end for the
Trevertons; but not a man of them would
move a step out of his way for the Franklands.
As for the mine, it seemed to be
inspired with the same mutinous spirit that
possessed the tenantry. The wiseacres from
London, blasted in all directions on the
profoundest scientific principles, brought
about sixpennyworth of ore to the surface
for every five pounds they spent in getting it
up. The fisheries turned out little better.
A new plan for curing pilchards, which was
a marvel of economy in theory, proved to be
a perfect phenomenon of extravagance in
practice. The only item of luck in old Frankland's
large sum of misfortunes was produced
by his quarrelling in good time with the
mediaeval architect, who was like a Popish priest
in disguise. This fortunate eveut saved the
new owner of Porthgenna all the money he
might otherwise have spent in restoring and
re-decorating the whole suite of rooms
on the north side of the house, which had
been left to go to rack and ruin for more than
fifty years past, and which remain in their old
neglected condition to this day. To make a
long story short, after uselessly spending more
thousands of pounds at Porthgenna than I
should like to reckon up, old Franklaud gave
in at last, left the place in disgust to the care
of his steward, who was charged never to
lay out another farthing on it, and returned
to this neighbourhood. Being in high dudgeon,
and happening to catch Captain Treverton
on shore when he got back, the first
thing he did was to abuse Porthgenna and
all the people about it, a little too vehemently
in the Captain's presence. This led to a coolness
between the two neighbours, which
might have ended in the breaking off of all
intercourse, but for the children on either
side, who would see each other just as often
as ever, and who ended, by dint of wilful
persistency, in putting an end to the
estrangement between their fathers, by making
it look simply ridiculous. Here, in my opinion,
lies the most curious part of the story.
Important family interests depended on those
two young people falling in love with each
other; and, wonderful to relate, that (as you
know, after my confession at breakfast-time)
was exactly what they did. Here is a case
of a most romantic love-match, which is also
the marriage, of all others, that the parents
on both sides had the strongest worldly
interest in promoting. Shakspeare may say
what he pleases, the course of true love does
run smooth sometimes. Never was the
marriage service performed to better purpose
than when I read it this morning. The
estate being entailed on Leonard, Captain
Treverton's daughter now goes back, in the
capacity of mistress, to the house and land*
which her father sold. Rosamond being an
only child, the purchase-money of Porthgenna,
which old Frankland once lamented
as money thrown away, will now, when the
Captain dies, be the marriage-portion of young
Frankland's wife. I don't know what you
think of the beginning and middle of my
story, Phippen, but the end ought to satisfy
you, at any rate. Did you ever hear of a
bride and bridegroom who started with fairer
prospects in life than our bride and bridegroom
of to-day?"

Before Mr. Phippen could make any reply,
Miss Sturch put her head out of the schoolroom
window: and seeing the two gentlemen
approaching, beamed on them with her
invariable amile. Then, addressing the vicar,
said in her softest tones:

"I regret extremely to trouble you, sir, but
I find Robert very intractable, this morning,
with his multiplication table."

"Where does he stick now ? " asked Doctor
Chennery.

"At seven times eight, sir," replied Miss
Sturch.

"Bob! " shouted the vicar through the
window. " Seven times eight?"

"Forty-three," answered the whimpering
voice of the invisible Bob.

"You shall have one more chance before I
get my cane," said Doctor Chennery. " Now,
then, look out! Seven times—- "

"My dear, good friend," interposed Mr.
Phippen, " if you cane that very unhappy
boy, he will scream. My nerves have been
tried once this morning by the camp-stool: I
shall be totally shattered if I hear screams.
Give me time to get out of the way, and
allow me also to spare dear Miss Sturch the
sad spectacle of correction (so shocking to
sensibilities like hers) by asking her for a
little camphor julep, and so giving her an
excuse for getting out of the way like me. I
think I could have done without the camphor
julep under any other circumstances; but I
ask for it unhesitatingly now, as much for
Miss Sturch's sake, as for the sake of my own
poor nerves. Have you got camphor julep,
Miss Sturch ? Say yes, I beg and entreat,
and give me an opportunity of escorting you
out of the way of the screams."

While Miss Sturch— whose well-trained
sensibilities were proof against the longest
paternal caning and the loudest filial
acknowledgment of it in the way of screams— tripped