For years I was about King William when he
was the Sailor Dook, and he never found it
necessary to ——"

"No doubt — I am sure — quite proper. But
I see you have caught my meaning, and will
excuse me."

Mr. Tilney returned home very desponding.
The world, he thought, was deteriorating.
"Fellows like that" seemed to be pushed up.
That good old spirit of my doing for you and
you doing for me, as so happily put in the
Gospel— the gentleman's creed, too — seemed to
have gone by. Suddenly it flashed upon him
he had begun at the wrong end. It was most
natural, to be sure. He saw what was on
Smiles's miud. Ha! ha! Very good indeed!

At home he was looked for anxiously; for,
going out while being brushed down, and
drawing on his gloves, he had said, gaily, " I am
going to get the first haul at the bank. We
must be moderate, though, at starting; est
modus, you know — a little to-day and a little
to-morrow; that's the way. How will you have
it, my dears," he added, humorously, and
swinging his cane about — " gold or notes?"

Only the yellow-haired girl, looking at him
thoughtfully as they met at the foot of the stairs,
and putting a flower in his button-hole, whispered,
" Don't build too much, dear uncle, on
this; everything is so uncertain."

"Wise child!" said Mr. Tilney.

When, therefore, he came back, greatly confused
and dejected, and saying that " something
was wrong," and that " he couldn't follow it,"
Mrs. Tilney, sharp always, and sceptical in her
judgments, read off the true state of the case.

"This is always the way," she said, flouncing
and rustling, "coming to us with your
cock-and-bull stories. You have made some
mess of it, I know, with your long nourishing
rigmaroles, that no one can understand or
listen to."

Mr. Tilney looked hopelessly from one to the
other. " I know!" he said, suddenly; " we
began at the wrong end. To be sure. I told
you we should have asked him and his wife.
He resents this. I saw there was something in
his manner. Old Warburton, who was always
about the Dook, used to say that a dinner was
the greatest softener of——"

"Ah! stuff!" said Mrs. Tilney, with
contempt. "Do you want me to be 'hoped' up
with his vulgar trollop of a wife? I shan't
have her fastened on me, I can tell you."

"It's the only way," said Mr. Tilney, eagerly,
and almost piteously. " I never found a dinner
to fail. I found it with myself, whenever they
wanted anything out of me, they always gave
me a dinner, and ——"

"Indeed yes," said Mrs. Tilney, " and they
got enough of you."

The soft low voice of Ada was heard now.

"I dare say it would be a wise thing, after
all, dear aunt," she said. " They seem to be the
sort of people that would like 'that kind of
attention, and would be flattered."

"I know it," said Mr. Tilney, eagerly;
" that's what's rankling in his mind. Ask him
and the wife—him and the wife — a snug little
dinner, and you will see."

Mrs. Tilney at last agreed in a grudging way.
"It must be by themselves," she said. " I am
not going to disgrace myself before our
acquaintance by such company."

Mr. Tilney sighed, but was obliged to accept
this concession.

MICROSCOPIC FUNGI.

MOST people know the difference between a
house in order and a house in disorder. In the
one, everything is in its place — the chairs here,
the tables there, this thing in a closet, that on
a shelf. You can lay your hand on what you
want in the dark; you can go in and out,
up-stairs and down-stairs, blindfold, without
breaking your shins or upsetting a single
article. In the other, nothing has a place of
its own; everything seems to claim a right to
occupy any place and to encumber any apartment
it chooses. The drawing-room does duty
as a wardrobe and store-closet, pictures and
prints litter the floors, instead of hanging
symmetrically on the walls. The sofas serve as
resting-places for chairs, and the tables are
laden with footstools and hearthrugs; the
coalshoot is stuffed with pamphlets and newspapers,
the books are piled in dust-heaps in the corners;
the thing you require is never discoverable.
At full noonday, you find a difficulty in threading
your way out of one room into another.

Disorder in a workshop or factory would
soon bring matters to a stand-still; we therefore
find admirable order strictly carried out in
those establishments. Articles are ranged in
serial rank, according to their nature, quality,
and destination; silk with silk, cotton with
cotton, thread with thread, cloth with cloth.
The same with tools; handsaws do not jostle
helter-skelter witli bradawls, nor planes with
hammers. Each shelf and pigeon-hole has its
own proper occupant; to which shelf, for any
other article, " No admission" is the rigid rule.
Consequently, every element for every process
is immediately forthcoming when called for;
moreover, things in order pack infinitely better,
occupying enormously less room. You can
get twice as many objects into a given space
by disposing of them regularly as you can by
pitching them in anyhow, promiscuously,
higgledy-piggledy.

If sucn be the advantages of material order
applied to things of daily necessity, we may
expect equal assistance from intellectual order
working upon knowledge of daily acquirement.
It is an immense help to be able to classify the
things we know into a system where each one
has its place. Anybody with the slightest
observation cannot help becoming acquainted
with a great many objects, and knowing a
considerable number of facts. Suppose a lad merely
to take a walk from a country village down to
the sea. He beholds trees, grass, corn, flowers;