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134 BY ORDER OF THE CZAR. istics which were so opposite to the happy professional air of her brother-in-law, and to the smug city cheerfulness of Samuel Swynford, of Lomba r d-street.'

"I have always been deeply concerned in regard to the fate of political prisoners in Russia," continued Philip," and just now I am thinking of little else. I suppose there is a touch of selfishness in this increased devotion, because I am putting my feelings and my imagination into commission as it were; I hope they will assist me to carry off the Gold Medal."

"Oh, that is the secret of the sketch we saw this afternoon?" said Mrs. Milbanke. "You forgot to tell us; or perhaps it is a secret."

"Forsyth thought he would not spoil a good subject for conversation this evening," chimed in the host. " Yes, my dear, I will have a cup of tea; don't approve of tea as a rule, 'but to-night we'll merry be,' as the song says, eh, Swynford?"

Walter did not quite know what he was saying; not that he had had too much wine, but his wife had been making signs at him, and he tried to hide his non-understanding of them under a ripple of talk. "A good old song," he went on; "I remember my singing it when I was a boy at a birthday yes, — my dear, Mr. Swynford will take a cup of tea, and by the way, Swynford, you are a judge of water colors. I would like to show you a little portfolio I bought last week — a collection of landscapes and figures — two little Turners, half a dozen David Cox's, a Calcott, and a couple of sketches by Landseer; here it is, my boy."

And Walter, having suddenly caught the meaning of his wife's nod, had led Sam to the furthest end of the room away from Philip and Dolly, and was soon deep in the mysteries of the portfolio in question, getting Sam's ideas of its value, not only artistically but financially, together