be!"" I said. I stared in the glass to see if I
could discover the sheepishness they laid such
stress on. I was pale, to be sure, and my hair a
light brown, but so was Shelley's; indeed, there
was a wild, but soft expression in my eyes that
resembled his, and I could recognise many things
in our natures that seemed to correspond. It was
the poetic dreaminess, the lofty abstractedness
from all the petty cares of every-day life, which
vulgar people set down as simplicity; and thus,

     The soaring thoughts that reached the stars,
           Seemed ignorance to them

As I uttered the consolatory lines, I felt two
hands firmly pressed over my eyes, while a
friendly voice called out, "Found out, old
fellow! run fairly to earth!" "Ask him if he
knows you," whispered another, but in a voice
I could catch.

"Who am I, Jack?" cried the first speaker.

"Situated as I now am," I replied, " I am
unable to pronounce; but of one thing I am
assured—I am certain I am not called Jack."

The slow and measured intonation of my voice
seemed to electrify them, for my captor
relinquished his hold and fell back, while the two
others, after a few seconds of blank surprise,
burst into a roar of laughter; a sentiment which
the other could not refrain from, while he
struggled to mutter some words of apology.

"Perhaps I can. explain your mistake," I
said, blandly; " I am supposed to be extremely
like the Prince of Salms Hokinshauven——''

"No, no!" burst in Lord Keldrum, whose
voice I recognised, " we never saw the prince.
The blunder of the waiter led us into this
embarrassment,; we fancied you were——"

"Mr. Burgoyne," I chimed in.

"Exactly; Jack Burgoyne; but you're not a
bit like him."

"Strange, then; but I'm constantly mistaken
for htm; and when in London, I'm actually
persecuted by people calling out, ' When did you
come up, Jack?' 'Where do you.hang out?' 'How
long do you stay?' 'Dine with me to-day—
tomorrow—Saturday?' and so on; and although;
as I have remarked, these are only so many
embarrassments for me, they all show how
popular must be my prototype." I had
purposely made this speech of mine a little long,
for I saw by the disconcerted looks of the party
that they did not see how to wind up "the
situation," and, like all awkward men, I grew
garrulous where I ought to have been silent.
While I rambled on, Lord Keldrum exchanged
a word or two with one of his friends; and, as
I finished, he turned towards me, and with an
air of much courtesy said,

"We owe you every apology for this
intrusion, and hope you will pardon it; there is,
however, but one way in which we can certainly
feel assured that we have your forgiveness—that
is, by your joining us. I see that your dinner
is in preparation, so pray let me countermand it,
and say t hat you are our guest."

"Lord Keldrum," said one of the party,
presenting the speaker; "my name is Hammond,
and this is Captain Oxley, Coldstream Guards."

I saw that this move required an exchange of
ratifications, and so I bowed and said, " Algernon
Sydney Potts."

"There are Staffordshire Pottses?"

"No relation," I said, stiffly. It was Hammond
who made the remark, and with a sneering
manner that I could not abide.

"Well, Mr. Potts, it is agreed," said Lord
Keldrum, with his peculiar urbanity, " we shall
see you at eight. No dressing. You'll find us
in this fishing costume you see now."

I trust my reader, who has dined out any day
he pleased and in any society he has liked these
years past, will forgive me if I do not enter into
any detailed account of my reasons for accepting
this invitation. Enough if I freely own that
to me, A. S. Potts, such an unexpected honour
was about the same surprise as if I had been
announced governor of a colony or bishop in a
new settlement.

"At eight sharp, Mr. Potts."
"The next door down the passage."
"Just as you are, remember!" were the three
parting admonitions with which they left me.

THE COMING TIDE.

A LONG pull, and a strong pull, and a pull
altogether, is the kind of pull which a thirsty
couple, Phoebus and Diana, have agreed to take
at the waters of the sea on the sixteenth and
seventeenth of September now ensuing. As
to its length—from London bridge to the centre
of the Sun is a tolerable distance. As to its
strength—a force which is strong enough to
suspend the world and save it from tailing to the
bottom of nowhere, combined with another force
which is strong enough to curb the Moon and
keep her from running away, cannot be called
absolute weakness. As to pulling altogether—those
useful hackneys, Sol and Luna, are to be yoked
in one team; they are to be in syzygy (see
Hederic's Lexicon, or the advanced portion of
this article) for that day expressly. The
proposed result is a magnificent tide; a brimming
flow, followed by a distant ebb. Old Ocean is
to be lifted higher out of his bed than usual;
during his absence, inquisitive persons will have
an opportunity of seeing how the bed is made, and
will rejoice greatly that their own beds at home
do not contain so many creeping things as his.

There is a general impression among an
illused public that a similar pull, given last ninth
of March, was a failure, and not half strong
enough. People who came down by rail, from
the uttermost interior, to the coast—people who
would not believe that the sea was salt, till they
tasted it—complained. They expressed their
disappointment to wondering Jack Tars, that
they should have to return without seeing a
deluge or even a pretty shipwreck; that they had
been able to go to the end of jetties without being
drowned; that they had failed to witness in the
grocers' cellars the conversion of sugar and salt
into brine; that the bladders and the corks with
which they stuffed their pockets, and the
swimming-belts worn under crinoline, turned out