works, bound in heavy, useful binding, the furniture was covered with horsehair, and the straightbacked chairs were never allowed to be out of place and no flowers were allowed to throw cheerfulness over this sombre apartment. Dull as it was, it suited Mr. Prior's taste, and, except to his old-fashioned club, he seldom was tempted to move out of it. He received few visitors, and those few consisted of two or three men of Mr. Prior's own age, who occasionally called upon him. At length Alfred Prior made an offer of marriage to his beautiful Helen, but then came an unlooked-for difficulty; Mrs. Campbell could only allow her daughter to accept it subject to Mr. Prior's being fully informed of the affair, giving his entire consent to the union, and making a suitable allowance to the young people, proportionable to his wellknown large fortune. Hitherto Alfred had received the very small sum his father chose to allow him with cheerfulness; with great economy making it suffice for his own personal expenses, living with his father in the stingy, uncomfortable manner it was his pleasure to live in. Alfred still stood in great awe of this stern parent; always severe to him, he dared not confide to him any of his feelings, dared not to encounter the hard gaze of that cold grey eye, and the cruel words that would most likely accompany any demand for even a small sum of money; how then was it possible for him to ask his father's permission to marry Helen, and at the same time beg for a large yearly allowance? The sum named by Mrs. Campbell seemed to him an enormous one. Then, on the the other hand, Mrs. Campbell quietly informed him, that, unless he complied with her conditions, not only must he never see her daughter again, for that, as a mother, she could not suffer her daughter's prospects to be ruined for perhaps a life-time, but that she should immedidiately take her away, and should hope so beautiful a girl would make some better match. Helen seemed quite as miserable at this determination as Alfred did; both pleaded for a little delay. When, after many conversations and various discussions as to how this important matter could be best arranged and Mr. Prior informed of their wishes, it was at length settled, with her mother's consent, that Helen should herself plead their cause. It was considered, both by Alfred and Mrs. Campbell, that the young girl's wonderfully radient beauty, and the charm of her graceful, winning manners, might possibly melt, if anything could melt, the cold heart of the old gentleman. The final plan adopted after many serious consultations, heart-throbbings, and tender words innumerable, was, that Alfred should escort his Helen, as he trusted still to call her, to his father's house in Portman-square, and there leave her to undertake her self-imposed taek in the best way she could, he waiting near for her leaving the house, so as to be able to join her directly, supposing the interview was permitted to take place; for, of course there was

a great doubt if Mr. Prior with his secluded habits could be induced to admit any stranger into his presence even for five minutes; however, should it be allowed, it was conjectured it might last for half to perhaps even threequarters of an hour. In due accordance to this well-concerted plan, the youthful pair sallied forth one bright morning in May on their momentous expedition; a warm summer sun cheered them on their way, every square they passed had some lovely refreshing foliage to look at, or some pretty lilac or almond blossom to delight the senses with their fragrant odours: all nature seemed alive on this beautiful May morning; but to all these delightful accessories to a charming day, the lovers were quite unobservant, for they were too much engrossed with their own thoughts to pay any attention to outward objects, and were greatly surprised at arriving so soon at Portman-square. Here they had to part. After tenderly pressing Helen's hand and waiting for her admittance with many hopes and fears, Alfred hurried off, returning to the door, or very near it, every ten minutes, anxiously watching for its opening, and the delight of Helen's lovely face appearing to again charm his sight. But a long weary hour passed and no Helen came: great was Alfred's anxiety and impatience as he again paced round the square. Two hours had now elapsed, his watch was frequently consulted, he became nervous and almost feverish, not knowing what to think of this protracted interview; still he reflected that, as this most important conversation had been already of such an unexpected duration, their petition must have been favourably received, or else most assuredly a quick, but polite dismissal would have been the immediate result. Also Mr. Prior was a very likely person not to have received any stranger whatever, although that stranger was a beautiful young lady.

"These reflections consoled the young man'not a little, so again his heart beat high with hope. Three hours had now passed away when, upon returning near his father's house, Alfred to his great joy saw the door open and his beloved Helen emerge from its portals. At one quick bound with sparkling eyes he was at her side.

"Well, my darling, what tidings do you bring? Speak, dearest."

"All will, I think, be well at last, dear Alfred; but your father, although he has given no decided refusal to our petition, thinks us both much too young to marry at present; he wishes us to wait perhaps two years or so. What a perfect gentleman your father is, with all the high breeding and courtly polish of the old school!"

Though their happiness was to be delayed, still, as their ultimate union was not forbidden, Alfred felt happy and contented with the result of the morning's work; yet, in spite of this good news, he could not help noticing a silence and a seeming coolness in Helen's manners to him;

'One afternoon, in walking on the very beautiful Glenmire road, a young man suddenly came up to him, and seized his hand, exclaimed: "It must, it surely must be Alfred Prior! Why, old fellow, what have you been about? You look uncommonly ill. Now I have got you, I am not going to let you go again, I promise you; so, nolens volens, you are my prisoner of war, and you must march with me-instead of to a prison-to my home."

Alfred at once recognized an old school-fellow. They had been much attached in their boyish days, and had kept up a correspondence for some time, and had also met occasionally since. Under happier circumstances his first object on arriving in Cork would have been to pay a visit to his friend Maurice O'Ryan; so very little persuasion was now required to induce Alfred to return with him to a family dinner, promising him a most hearty welcome from his social circle; and to show him in their house, as he had often described it at school, the prettiest, both as to situation and garden, that could be found in the Emerald Isle. Alfred was received by the whole family with all that true hospitality for which Ireland is so famous; and although nothing could persuade him to attend any of their parties or dances, or join in any of their merry pic-nics, he yet occasionally drank tea with them, when only a quiet homeparty was grouped around the social board. To all their other gay amusements he pleaded a delicacy of health which had been the cause of his having left London for change of scene and air. Maurice's family consisted of his own kind-hearted, excellent father, a venerable grandmother, with hair white as driven snow, and the sweetest of countenances, his aunt Emily, who bustled about, an active, good-natured, useful personage, who kept the house in wonderful order for an Irish establishment, his brother Feargus, who was still pursuing his studies, his little sister Norah, about ten years old, the other two sisters were well married in far distant counties, his amiable mother had died two years previously. Alfred spent his time more cheerfully than he could have hoped for in occasionally visiting the happy family of his old school-fellow, talking over with him their boyish days, and the various stories they each remem

settled in far-distant parts of the world, and then, perhaps, anecdotes of a few school-fellows never heard of again till in this happy renewal of early friendship. In spite of Alfred's deep dejection, he felt no little comforted by the kindness shewn him by Maurice, and the many thoughtful maternal attentions-particularly as regarded his health, evinced towards him by the venerable grandmother, who, though she sat quietly knitting in the chimney-corner, never forgot anyone; also the chattering amusing ways of the sprightly little black-eyed Norah, who, as she brought him her prettiest wax baby-doll, or hugged her kitten, beguiled him sometimes of a trifling part of that deep melancholy which now seemed settling as part of his character; but then, when he returned to his solitary lodgings, and remembered the cruel events of the last few weeks, it only returned with greater force.

At the expiration of the month, Alfred was summoned by a letter from his father, desiring him to return to Portman Square as soon as possible, and see, and report to him, that everything was in good order, and comfortable for the reception of his wife and himself. He accordingly departed, after taking a very kind farewell of the O'Ryans, receiving some curious old-fashioned receipts for his health, and some warm stockings of her own knitting from the old lady, a shy kiss and a small nosegay out of her own particnlar garden from the little Norah; Maurice would not wish him good-bye till they parted on the steamer.

CHAP. V.

Upon Alfred's return he was not a little surprised to find the great improvements and alterations that had been effected by fresh papering and painting; while the new, modern, and some of it very beautiful and expensive furniture had already been placed, and the hitherto gloomy, old, and shabbily-furnished house appeared quite renovated: many more improvements and changes were still in progress, as the workmen who were busily employed about the place informed him. It was extraordinary to witness what had been already performed, but he was glad to find that his own room was untouched, no change had taken place there. The two drawing-rooms were so magnificently splendid with their sofas, rich carpets, gorgeous furniture, and elegant and costly mirrors, it was difficult to know them again as the dingy, dusty rooms of his childhood. The newly-arranged bed-room and dressing-rooms for Mr. and Mrs. Prior, also left nothing to be wished for; that lady's boudoir was quite a place of enchantment, fit abode for the lovely fairy henceforward to inhabit it.

'As it was found other ten days would give greater comfort to the house, the arrival from

Towards the close of the eighteenth century the reigning Nabob, or King of Oude, was Asuf-ud-Dowlah, an aged, wealthy, and very eccentric Prince, who had no legitimate children certainly, and it was very doubtful as to whether he had any natural ones either. He had a strange habit of inviting any woman likely soon to become a mother, whose appearance struck his fancy, to his palace to be confined; and among the many who availed themselves of his singular hospitality was the wife of a forash (a sort of menial servant of a low description, employed in India in keeping the tin or metal utensils of a house clean; whose employment, in fact, answers in some degree to that of our scullery maid); and under the roof of the Nabob, in the year 1782, this woman gave birth to a boy, who was named Vizier Ally, and who, with several other children born under the same odd circumstances, was brought up and educated in the palace.

While yet a mere infant the pretty winning ways of Vizier Ally so completely won the affections of the old Nabob that he determined to adopt him formally-a ceremony which at once conferred on him all the privileges of one born in the purple; and accordingly the boy received an education suitable to a Prince destined to succeed to the throne. Several traits of cruelty are said to have betrayed themselves at this time in the boy's character; yet, notwithstanding, the old monarch's love seemed to increase daily for him, and he continued to heap on him every favour that wealth or affection could bestow, and this also though his own manners were of the gentlest, and his conduct mild and affable to all who approached him. He possessed no great mental powers; but his heart was good and his rule equitable considering his education, which instilled the most despotic ideas.

Having succeeded to the throne of Oude, by the favour of the East India Company then existing in all its power, and who protected him by their troops in addition to his own large army and immense retinue of servants, from hostile invasions, for the small consideration of five hundred thousand pounds sterling a-year, the aged King displayed great partiality to the English, and was fond of lavishing his treasures not only on gardens, palaces, horses, elephants, and other oriental splendours, but also on European guns, lustres, and mirrors, expending every year at least two hundred thousand pounds on British manufactures of various kinds. This Nabob had more than one hundred gardens,

twenty palaces, one thousand two hundred elephants, three thousand fine saddle-horses, one thousand five hundred double-barrel guns, seventeen hundred superb chandeliers, thirty thousand glass shades of various forms and colours, seven hundred large mirrors, girandoles, and clocks richly set with jewels, having figures in continual movement, and playing tunes every hour; two alone of these clocks cost him thirty thousand pounds.

Without taste or judgment himself in their selection, this singular old man was extremely anxious to possess all that was considered elegant and rare; he had instruments and machines connected with every known art and science, although he was utterly unacquainted with any, and his museum was so ridiculously disposed that a common wooden Dutch clock might be seen beside a superb time-piece, which cost the purchase of a diadem; and a valuable landscape of Claude's suspended near a board daubed over with ducks and geese.

A favourite freak of his was to give a dinner to ten or a dozen of his most intimate friends, in a carriage drawn by elephants, where they feasted at their ease as they moved magnificently on.

His harem consisted of more than five hundred of the greatest beauties of India, who, shut up within high walls, had supplied to them every luxury which could be thought of, but which they were never to leave until Death, the universal deliverer came to set them free.

His jewels alone were worth eight millions sterling, and it is said he might be seen for several hours a-day amid this glittering treasure, handling the costly gems as a child plays with his toys.

But it was at the marriage of the child of his adoption, Vizier Ally, which took place when the boy had attained his thirteenth year, that Asuf-ud-Dowlah gave full scope to his love of display; and to give some idea of the splendour from which Vizier Ally subsequently fell, we will here endeavour to give an imperfect description of the magnificent nuptials. They were celebrated in Lucknow-a city which, in our time, has attained so terrible a notorietyin 1795, when the old Nabob had great tents pitched on the plains just without the town. Among the number were two formed of strong cotton-cloth, lined with the finest English broadcloth, of different colours, cut into stripes, and fastened with silken cords. These two tents cost him five lacs of rupees, or about fifty thou