Slingsby Bethell in 1756, and in 1782 Sir
Watkin Lewis, who was also member for the
City. Admiral Geary, in 1725; John Hardham,
the well-known tobacconist, of "Hardham's
'37" snuff celebrity, and a famous
ringer; Sir Watkin Wynne, Lord Dacre, and
the Marquis of Salisbury, also figure in the
list. The last two were joint founders with
Lord Brereton and Sir Cliff Clifton. It is said
that Sir Matthew Hale, Lord Chief Justice of
the Common Pleas, and the great Lord
Burleigh—Elizabeth's lord high treasurer—as well
as other grave and learned men were fond of
change ringing and patrons of the art; but their
names do not appear in the list of members.

The society, flourishing enough now, has
had more than one interval of something very
like extinction, although it is stoutly denied
that it ever really came to an end. It must
have been in a bad way, however, at one time;
and the fact of the peal-book having
disappeared, and not being found until some time
afterwards, in a butcher's shop in Bristol,
undoubtedly looks awkward.

There is another society of change ringers in
London, called the Cumberland, and practising
at St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, which possibly
sprang from the internal dissensions that at
one time agitated the older society. The London
scholars, who are frequently mentioned in
the earlier records of the college youths,
appear to have become extinct as a change-
ringing society; and although there is an
association of change ringers in almost every town
where there is a good peal of bells, the Ancient
Society of College Youths is the most
important, as it is the most venerable in the kingdom.
Its rules are few and simple, and its
subscription and expenses low, and for this
reason, no doubt, it has gradually attracted
more and more members from the working
class.

As the evening was pretty far advanced by
the time we had possessed ourselves of these
particulars, we bade farewell to the Ancient
Society of College Youths without waiting for
another touch on the hand-bells, and went our
way, grateful for a courteous reception and a
pleasant evening.

FATAL ZERO.
A DIARY KEPT AT HOMBURG: A SHORT SERIAL STORY.
CHAPTER XVI.—Continued.

NOON NEXT DAY.—I see two letters which I
did not notice last night. Yes I did. I shall
not tell lies to myself, though I am sunk
low enough. I did see hers, but I did not
care to open it. I could guess the tune.
Here it is now. O I blush as I look at the
writing, and as I would, were Dora's own
sweet eyes turned on me now. I saw that
fellow here that is outlawed, and dare not
show his face in England; but what is he
to me, that have wasted the substance of
those who are dear to me, and have brought
ruin on them. Here is her letter. Those
trembling fingers of mine may as well now
go on with the farce of pasting it in:

"O my dearest, what will you think of
me and my selfishness when I must again
write to you and trouble your little holiday
with more dismal news? O that I could
suffer it all myself, but I know not whither
to turn, save to that one friend, who knows
what is good for us, and will assist us at the
fitting time. Our little child has relapsed
again, and again there is more expense, and,
O my dearest, there is something else for
you to bear! They tell us that the Bank is
going to close its country offices and keep
entirely in London—at least this is
rumoured. So God knows what is to become
of us all. Don't distress yourself about the
rent, as I feel confident we shall find some
way. I shall—I must. You know my
little stock of trinkets, the gold chain dear
mamma gave me, and which she made me
promise I would never part with? Well, she
would not mean me to be ruined and
wretched for the sake of keeping that
promise. Let us only keep up, and trust—
something must come. Mr. Bernard was here, and
to my joy tells me, he gave you more than
double that would be sufficient for the journey.
So stay, dearest, as long as it will last—
though if you could squeeze us out a few
pounds for the children,—but here is my
selfishness. If you had seen our dear friend's
face when I told him of your brave resolution
— so splendidly kept— of the prayer
that you so faithfully say. I did not show
him any of the diary, you may be sure,
simply, dearest, because you have given up
sending it to me, a punishment I own I
deserve richly. But I will coax you to show
it to me all when you return, and there is
a little scheme I can tell you, on foot, by
which a little money might be turned, on
what they call "the half profit system"—so
our librarian was telling me—a little of the
expense of publishing to be met at first by
the author, but he shares all the clear profits
after."

Wretch—villain! Again I say, what is
to become of me? The other letter from Mr.
Bernard. His orders, indeed! I wish I had
never seen his face; it was he who sent me
on this cursed journey. What words I
begin to use! Yet I mean it in a proper sense.
Why didn't he let me die at home?

"I wish you to go at once back to Frankfort.
You seem to have quite misapprehended
me, and I think it was indiscreet of
you to have left such a sum at a strange