The next day he overtook seventeen wood teams in a string; one only turned out for him-his brother, who happened to be tail of the party. The rest kept on their way, and he was forced to dawdle behind them for three hours, as the roads were far too bad to risk passing without half the track, especially as his passengers were all women. The Cromaboo mail was too late for the train, and the Gibbeline postmaster-who was a bit of a martinet-threatened to report Mr. Llewellyn. Robert took the sixteen offending wood-men before the Police Magistrate. They were fined two dollars each and solemnly warned not to offend again. Robert asked if he might be allowed to say a word to them before they were dismissed, and permission being given, thus spoke Robert Hardacre Smith:

"I am heart-sorry, my men, to take money out of your pockets, and I know some of you need it bad enough; but I'm not strong enough to thrash ye all round, and so subdue ye, so I'm forced to thry the law. I have a right to half the road as ye all know, and understand me once for all, I will have it."

No one who heard him could doubt that he meant what he said; there is power and dignity in truth, even though he who speaks it happens to have a ragged coat and a black eye; the wood carriers having had a taste of the law, tacitly admitted they were conquered, for ever after they sulkily gave way for the Royal Mail.

Time would fail me to tell of all the victories achieved in the first month by our Cromaboo hero, how he charmed the women by singing hymns or comic songs, as best suited their feelings, and put out the pipes of the men, his own included-and I am sorry to say he loved tobacco as soon as a petticoat tock possession of the stage. At first he had everything his own way, but as time passed, a reverse of fortune came that nearly ended fatally. Robert went to the blacksmith's one Saturday night at e'en to get a shoe re-set; opposite the blacksmith's stood the most roaring disorderly tavern in Cromaboo, and as usual a crowd of half tipsey fellows had gathered about the door, and they called out to Robert to come and have a drink. He had had several squabbles with more than half of them during the last thirty days, and he thought one glass with them might mend the breach, and place them on good terms again; he did not wish to make enemies for his coach and it's master, and as yet he knew not the evil of half measures; he crossed to the Royal

He stayed no longer

Anglo-American and went in to be treated. than fifteen minutes, and drank only one glass, but it made him feel deadly sick, and when out in the air again he felt worse instead of better. He thought he should be all right when once in the sleigh and on his way home, but as soon as he mounted his seat he lost consciousness, and the horses took him home without his knowledge, and stopping suddenly he fell out face downwards before the shop door.

Mr. Llewellyn, who was looking out for him, pronounced him drunk, and said he would dismiss him, touching the prostrate figure slightly with a scornful foot; but his niece knelt down and turned up the boy's face.

"Not drunk," she said, "but dying!" and springing up, she ran for his father and dispatched him for the doctor, and returning quickly with his mother, helped carry the lad into the house. The doctor came, applied the stomach pump, and pronounced it a serious case of poisoning. He stayed with Robert till the daylight dawned, and so did the lad's mother and Miss Llewellyn; it was a sad and anxious night.

As for John Smith and his son John James William, they went together to the Royal Anglo-American and sobered the jolly inmates by telling them that if Robert died they should all be hanged. All denied having done anything to injure the lad, though some of them looked guilty enough, and they separated and sneaked away when the Smiths were gone, and two or three of them were not seen in Cromaboo for many days after.

In a fortnight Robert was in his seat again, very pale indeed, but more determined than ever to do his duty, and neither take or give quarter; prouder of his post than ever, and happier in it, for had not his master shaken hands with him, and said, "I have perfect confidence in you, Robert?" had not his young mistress made gruel and sago for him with her own hands, and shed tears when she thought he was dying? had not Dr. Meldrum thought it worth his while to sit up with him? had he not fresh proof that his father and mother loved him?

Mr. Llewellyn had driven his own coach during the lad's illness, and had received good evidence of his servant's honesty, as well as his tact and popularity with the women, and an obstinate belief in

him took possession of his prejudiced Welsh head, a kindly warmth for the boy kindled up in his old Welsh heart.

It leaked out in time that the dose Robert had swallowed had been mixed for him by a disreputable veterinary surgeon, who had unintentionally made it too strong, being more accustomed to compounding doses for horses than men. His object was to make Rob

ert appear drunk and have him dismissed.

So ends the chapter. Do not be discouraged, my reader, and give up the story. I promise you a bon bouche for desert, though you have begun your repast with simple bacon and beans. I promise to introduce you to the most fashionable people. I promise you romance, adventures, love-making, in galore, and finally orange blossoms and wedding favours; kisses-blessings-only have patience.

CHAPTER THE THIRD.

"The sweetest lady that ever I looked upon."

-SHAKSPEARE.

NEW influence was brought to bear upon Robert, the strongest and most subtle that ever touched his life, This is how it happened. I have said Robert was fond of the ladies, but most of all did he love them between the ages of five and seven. He was intimate with many little girls between Gibbeline and Cromaboo; they felt at home with him, and told him most important secrets about pet cats, puppies and dolls; they gave him their confidence and their kisses, and he gave them sweetmeats and kisses in return, and occasionally free rides for half a mile or so, on condition they should sit on his knee. The tavern-keeper in Gibberline, where the stage put up, had a little daughter who watched eagerly for Robert, and never let him leave without a flirtation and a romp. One stormy March day, as he was donning his great coat for a start, this little lassie came running in, and challenged him to a game of romps, by exclaiming, "You don't dare to take me to Cromaboo, you don't!"

"Don't I, though?" retorted Robert, "I'll button ye into my coat this very minute," and he chased her with the skirts extended in each hand and a great deal of noise, of course.

"I want the Cromaboo stage," said a clear, sweet voice, near him as with flushed face and coat-tails spread wide he pretended to try and corner the little runaway.

"I'm not the stage, but I'm the driver," said Robert, rather flippantly, before he saw the speaker. A well-dressed lady stood before him; two soft, grave eyes met his and regarded him doubtfully; he was not shy by nature, but he dropped his coat-tails and blushed violently.

"Beg pardon, ma'am," he said, “are you going by the coach ?" "Yes. Will you call at the Royal for me, if you please? You will ask for Miss Paxton."

"Yes, ma'am.”

"You won't forget?" looking as if she thought he would. Indeed he was not likely to forget what he thought the prettiest face he had ever seen, but he only said " no ma'am."

He called for her, ensconced her in the best seat, and took furtive glances at her as he went along. Her face was shaded, not concealed, by a large grey cloud; he thought it good to look at ; he had never seen a face that interested him as this did. She only rode four miles, and then got out at a large plaster house that stood on a high bank above the road. She had a great many parcels, and Robert carried them in for her. She thanked him, and no expression of courtesy ever touched him so much, though it meant absolutely nothing, for courtesy was a habit with her, and in this case she thought it his duty and felt no gratitude. He charged her twenty cents, and she paid without haggling, to his surprise, for his fair customers generally badgered him to take off a cent or two.

She asked if it would be too much trouble for him to blow his horn when he passed, as she might often take advantage of the stage. He promised to do it, with pleasure, and he did blow most faithfully the next time and many times, before the lady came again. He wished she would come out, and never passed the place without thinking of her, but this interest was all on one side, for our hero had left no distinct impression on the mind of Miss Paxton.

Her sister asked her during the evening what sort of a person the new driver was, and she answered wearily, "a civil lad enough, and I think nice looking, but really I hardly know. He was playing very noisily with a child when I first saw him, and I thought for a moment

that he was a tipsy fellow, like the last, but that was a mistake."

At last Miss Paxton gladdened Robert's eyes by appearing, and made three trips in succession to the town, going and returning with a very anxious face. he had but a vague idea of the driver, and took more interest in the spotted ponies than she did in him. He observed her keenly and thought about her constantly; he thought her face looked almost hopeless sometimes, but would brighten up and become smiling and gracious when any one spoke to her; he felt sure she was good and kind, but he soon found out that her civility, so far as he was concerned, was nothing but civility; she did not know his name or care to know it, she scarcely saw him, never looked at him when she put the money into his little rough fist with her slender white fingers; she was not as other women to him, and he felt her indifference with a little pain. Once he mentioned her to Miss Llewellyn-he had described her at full length to his mother the first time he saw her, and mother-like she had taken a great interest in her.

"Has she been on the stage?" said Miss Llewellyn; "I wonder they don't keep horses. Do you know, uncle, I should so much like to visit Miss Paxton, only I couldn't call without being asked; it would seem like intrusion."

"I dare say she would be glad to see you, my dear," remarked the old gentleman.

"She is always very polite when I meet her, but they are so rich, and we-."

66

"We," said her uncle, taking up the unfinished sentence, are people of good education, descended from a line of princes; I should think Miss Paxton might be proud of your acquaintance; for her father, though a man of good birth, was only a London tradesWhen I meet her again, my dear, I will see if I cannot bring about an intimacy; she is a very pretty, well-informed girl, and I often have a chat with her."

man.

This conversation took place at supper, and Robert, who was seated at the foot of the table, took in every word, and wondered in his heart if Miss Paxton would be glad of his little mistress' acquaintance; hoped she would, as then perhaps she might come to Cromaboo.

The mail was crowded the next morning, and Miss Paxton came