of not being able to meet his engagements. For
obvious reasons, the Delaval Family had declined
to leave its address. There was no hope. The
noble dog was lost to us for ever. Honest John
Plusher had done his best.

The marriage day came round. It was a
great festival: a splendid occasion. All the
neighbourhood rejoiced. We shone in apparel
perfectly new; for, with a delicacy which we knew
few would appreciate, we could not bring ourselves
to desecrate the blue and silver waistcoat
which was sacred to the memory of the
renowned dog. We were in the habit of visiting
that garment tenderly, as a relic. However, on
this day of universal joy, we thought it but
respectful to dismiss any mournful feelings of
a private nature we might entertain, and consumed,
silently but steadily, large blocks of a very
rich and moist wedding-cake, until we actually
became inert and almost torpid. In the evening
there was to be a dance—a small dance—which
was anticipated with happiness.

The day was long and weary, and the evening
seemed to approach very slowly. Honest John
Plusher and his young wife were gone—were
already miles away upon their road towards
honest John's country-house. The tears were
over, the cutting out was over. Here is now ten
o'clock at last, and the party is about to begin!

We had been a little uncomfortable towards
four o'clock, and had gone to lie down; but
by the evening were fresh again. The rooms
were lighted up, the company was arriving,
and here was the music—a harp in a green
baize paletot with a strap round it, a fiddle, and
a cornet. Men from Chopkins's, the eminent
pastrycook of the district, who had "the direction"
of the banquet, were already in possession
of the place. I did not see them, but I heard of
these things up-stairs, as I put on more festive
raiment. For a moment, I thought of the
blue and silver, as the drawer was opened—as a
change from the morning's apparel the effect
would have been superb. It was tempting; but
a better spirit prevailed.

We went down and wandered into the dancing
room; it was already full of lovely creatures
—all flowers and general radiance. The men
did not seem nearly such spiritual things. There
they were, bowing, and going through their
measures—a very pretty sight to look on, while
the music played melodiously. They were
wedged up in a corner, a little uncomfortably;
and it struck me that the harp, whose instrument,
projecting at an angle, was rudely brushed
at times by passing dancers, must have a weary
time of it. But he bore it with an angelic
patience, as of one who was used to that sort of
thing: while the cornet, who carried his instrument
gallantly, holding it out dead horizontally,
and blowing with a will—surely we should know
him. What! The pool of baldness, and the
banks of bulrushes fringing it—the sad blowing
expression—why, we knew him at once, though
only seeing him athwart the forms of flitting
dancers! What a vicissitude of fortune was this!
Surely the finger of some mysterious power was
here! Again our hearts began to flutter.

As soon as the dance had stopped, we stole
round to have a better look. It was he. There
could be no mistake. His manner of discoursing
the music, too, suggested the night. At first
we thought of an introduction; but, on reflection,
considered such would be a delay unnecessary.
So, we went up to him and boldly recalled
to him the Wearmouth Theatre—and—the dog.
He was confused, yet nobly admitted the
connexion. We entered freely in conversation.
He had indeed been attached to the Delaval
Family; but they were "a bad lot." Even, he
would go so far as to say, a shabby lot. They lived
by defrauding humble people who were
struggling to maintain their families. The dog?
Oh, yes. Clever enough, but nothing as a dog.

Here the leader tapped the back of his fiddle
impatiently, the harp was tilted back on to
the shoulder of its proprietor, and they struck
into the popular Fury Galop. I was left in
the tortures of expectancy to know what had
become of the renowned dog Cæsar. I would
wait until the next interval; and in the
meanwhile, as I was standing thoughtfully,
determined not to lose sight of the cornet player,
a massively built military person, coming round
with express velocity, struck me heavily, and
nearly flung me across the fender. At last
the Fury Galop was done, and I drew near to my
cornet player, with whom I might now be said
to be intimate. He was good natured. I told
him my story. He sympathised with my affection
for the noble creature. He himself was not
possessed of much information as to the present
residence of the Delaval Family ; but he had a
brother—Where? where?

He hesitaled a little; but he told me all
eventually. His brother, like himself, had had
dealings with the Delaval Family; and, like himself,
had, so to speak, been betrayed by the Delaval
Family—sold, I believe was the word he used,
which, though indistinct, conveyed to me the
idea of horribly base treatment. This brother,
the victim of the Delavals, could give information
on the subject; but there would be, the
cornet player owned, much delicacy necessary
in dealing with him; for he was a man of
peculiar temperament, rendered sensitive by his
reverses, and who had moved in far higher walks
of life. At this juncture the harp again reeled
back on its proprietor's shoulder, and the whole
band struck vigorously into the opening bars of
The Lancers. A "set" forming close by,
imprisoned me for a considerable period, but I
got free at last, and stood at the door burning
for further particulars.

As I stood, a voice was borne to my ears,
which did, indeed, seem tuned in a familiar
chord. It seemed that I had heard it somewhere
in the past, a richly measured cadence, something
like chanting. Good gracious what did this
mean? Events were crowding so thickly on this
momentous night! I struggled to the door, and
looked out. I saw nothing, heard nothing; our
mother was sitting there in state outside, on a