tute is not a school properly so called, as it caters for youths who have already begun their commercial lives in banks; but it provides excellent courses of lectures, and does its best to put students in the way of working up such subjects as banking law, political economy, arithmetic and algebra, the French language, etc., and it provides examinations in these subjects which a glance at the papers shows do not err in the way of being too elementary or smattering. Certificates are granted to those who pass the examinations successfully, and in some banks promotion depends not a little on the success of clerks in the examinations. The Institute's scheme is making most satisfactory progress. In 1881 the number of candidates presenting themselves for examination was twenty-two; it has progressed steadily since then, and reached a total last year of 512.

But a few isolated and individual efforts are quite unequal to the task of properly educating our youths in business, and it is the duty of the State to take the matter in hand. The Bradford Chamber of Commerce has recently prepared a memorial for presentation to Lord Salisbury by the Associated Chambers of Commerce. The memorial is well worth study, as it gives an excellent synopsis of what is being done abroad, and of what should be done in England. The facts relating to foreign countries are of startling significance. Of schools and institutions devoted to elementary, secondary and higher commercial training, Germany, the memorial points out, has 200, France 120, and Russia 32; there is also a fair number in other countries, including elaborately equipped schools in the United States. Even Japan is in the running, and in some respects goes beyond European schemes of commercial education.

There are also in Paris, Berlin, and Vienna schools for the study of Oriental languages, and including the habits and prejudices of the peoples. These schools enable European students to write trade circulars in the Eastern languages, and visit the people, talking to them in their own tongue. In view of England's immense Oriental Empire the lack of such instruction here is a serious reflection alike upon our Imperial duty and upon the business instincts of our merchants.

The memorial points out that the Government has in some way recognized the need for commercial education by making grants for commercial instruction of a very elementary nature in evening continuation schools, but such aid is ridiculously inadequate. The recommendations of the Chamber of Commerce are summed up in a plea that the Government will (1) place commercial education of the thorough Continental type on the same footing for earning grants in aid as is now done with Science and Art subjects; (2) nominate a central authority to distribute such grants; and (3) authorize such authority to formulate and supervise systematic commercial courses. Government should put these recommendations into legislative form in the Secondary Education Bill.

The

The press of foreign competition becomes tighter each year. Circumstances we cannot control account for much of this competition: the growth of foreign industrialism is an irrevocable fact. But many of the causes of successful competition are within our power to check, and among the most potent in this category is the backward state, or, to be more accurate, the positive lack of commercial education in Britain as compared with any other industrial country.-Saturday Review.

I.

BY CHARLES

THE possession of a princely fortune, and an unshakeable disinclination to accept the advice of others with regard to its disposal, had rendered Sir Peregrine Brooke the despair of philanthropic associations, and of those scientifically charitable bodies who prefer (it would seem) the exposure of one impostor to the clothing of three shiverers. Early in life, on succeeding to the possessions and title of his last surviving relative, he had been quickly made aware of the attitude commonly taken by the world toward persons of great wealth, especially when, as in his own case, they happen to be free from what are brutally, though only too correctly, known as "family ties." But almost as quickly he had come to regard this isolation as his most valuable defence against the onslaughts of humbugs and bores; a bewilderingly universal devotion to the female sex had enabled him to reach, free of the embarrassment of matrimony, his five-andfiftieth year; and as for the other assaults to which his position of necessity exposed him, he had contrived, by sedulously cultivating a reputation for eccentricity, to keep the number of his acquaintances within manageable limits a rare achievement for a rich man. After a long and severe struggle-conducted, on his side, at any rate, with scrupulous politeness-he had achieved this satisfying result: he was able to enjoy his leisure without fear of invasion by importunates who had no right to the title of friends.

This fortunate gentleman was sitting alone one fine morning in his London house. March was making, that year, a really lamb-like exit ; and the welcome salutation of sunrays twinkled pleasantly on the brown and gold of the library, on the table set with breakfast-things, and on the baronet himself, occupied in peeling a rosy apple. His clean-shaven face, with bright eyes peering from below iron-gray eyebrows, gave to him, in the opinion of some of

STRACHEY.

his friends, something of a monkish look; others mindful of his erect bearing and of a certain unobtrusive elegance in his costume, maintained that he had more the appearance of a soldier. Sir Peregrine had, in fact, been an athlete; he was still a scholar, and the room in which he sat was lined from floor to ceiling with his unique collection of seventeenth-century literature.

Sir Peregrine had not finished the peeling of his apple when his Turkish. servant came into inform him that Miss Nevil had arrived, with apologies for so early a visit, but that she was very anxious to see him. Directions were given to admit the lady without delay.

II.

Miss Jane Nevil was a young lady of attractive appearance, independent tastes, and no fortune, whose acquaintance with Sir Peregrine had begun only some few months before her visit to him on that fine March morning. Their first meeting had been accidental, and the medium of introduction a tipsy cabman, noisily reiterating his opinion both of her and of the strictly legal fare which she had handed to him.

The street was a remote one; ribald little boys and saunterers from the "pub" at the corner were beginning to gather round, when Sir Peregrine, who happened to be driving past, perceived a lady in difficulties, grasped the situation, and in a moment had convoyed Miss Nevil across the vicious circle of beery vituperation which had enveloped her so embarrassingly. Arrived in a less turbid atmosphere, he told the grateful girl his name, and carried her off in his brougham to her home in Bayswater. A cup of tea was offered and accepted; and Jane's mother, the worthy but commonplace relict of a Colonel with whom Sir Peregrine had been on nodding terms, was manifestly delighted to receive so important a personage in her drawing-room.

Since that first meeting a genuine

friendship had grown up between Sir Peregrine and Miss Nevil. He liked her unconventionality, and was especially pleased when she fell, quite naturally, into the way of treating him without any of that deference which is supposed to be due to the old, but which is, in fact, a very tiresome substitute for intimacy; besides, she had a sense of humor and a pretty taste in English poetry.

Miss Nevil was admitted into the sunny library by the obsequious Turk. Sir Peregrine greeted her warmly, and was informed that she had already breakfasted. She was nevertheless persuaded to accept an apple, and while he was peeling it for her he asked the reason of her welcome arrival at that early hour.

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Miss Nevil opened her purse-which, like all other ladies, she invariably carried in her hand-and took from it a folded sheet of note-paper. Read that," she said. Sir Peregrine handed her the peeled apple on the end of a fork, glanced at the paper-murmured "Good Heavens and read to himself the following remarkable composition :

Those looks of love I late did live upon

Gaze now with scorn upon my overthrow. That spring of joy that knew not ebb or

flow,

"That is the most abominably bad sonnet I ever read. Apart from the disgraceful jerry-building of its construction and the poverty of its ideas, it is cramfull of bits from other authors. You get no more of me, is Drayton; Up and on, is Browning; Mortal moon, is Shakespeare; Into a place, is some Elizabethan-perhaps Sir Walter Raleigh-" He rose, as though to verify his suspicions by a reference to the library, but checked himself. author deserves a flogging. by, who is the author ?"

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"The By the

The author," she replied reluctantly, "is Mr. Ernshaw. You have met him sometimes at our house. "The fact is," she went on hurriedly, we were, in a kind of way, engaged to be married."

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Sir Peregrine's consternation at the idea of anybody, and Miss Nevil in particular, marrying the author of such a bad sonnet prevented him from asking her to be more precise. Noticing his look of horror, she hastened to add : "But he never wrote anything of the sort before, upon my word of honor! It must be a symptom. It is all of a piece with his strange behavior last night; in fact, it may be all fancy, but I'm frightened about him, Sir Peregrine !"-she spoke with evident emotion-" and I came here, not to ask for your sympathy because such a dreadfully bad sonnet had been sent to me, but to get some advice as to what ought to be done. Mother's no good in an emergency like this."

He said encouragingly: "Tell me all about it."

"I will," she replied, "and as quickly as possible. Oh, I feel that I may be wasting time, and that something ought to be done at once! When I said that I was not exactly engaged to Mr. Ernshaw, I meant that when he asked me to be, last year, I told him that I liked him very much indeed, but that I was not certain that I liked him quite well enough to marry him. So I refused to consider myself bound to him in any way. Well, you know, he's in the Foreign Office.'

"A genteel, but unremunerative, occupation," observed the baronet.

"Exactly. And he has just enough money to live upon comfortably as a

bachelor. Of course mother couldn't bear the notion of my marrying him. She calls him a detrimental-I can't think where she picked up the word and she can't understand the kind of engagement that I got him to agree to. She says a girl is either engaged or not-as though I should submit to be governed by a home made maxim! However, I took no notice, and all went well until she tried to make me break definitely with Charles. Then, all at once, I felt much more inclined to marry him, especially when I began to suspect that she wanted me to accept that tiresome Mr. Topham, who has lots of money."

"Amos Topham," observed Sir Peregrine; "I remember him, too, at your house. A gentleman with barley-sugar legs, and with a peculiar combination of jowl and side-whisker which I believe to be absolutely incompatible with the literary or artistic temperament. Well, so you don't like Amos ?"

"I detest him! When I guessed what mother was thinking about I thought the time for action had arrived, and, as Charles had always wanted a more definite agreement between us, I naturally expected that he would be pleased to hear that I was ready to make one. I told him so yesterday, but to my surprise he didn't take it at all nicely; perhaps I chose the wrong moment for making the announcement, because he had just been having some difficulty with the head of his department, and was in a very depressed state of mind. I thought it would console him to hear that I liked him enough to marry him whenever he wished. But it didn't."

"Very odd," said Sir Peregrine. "How did he take it ?"

"He began talking in an injured tone, and said that I had insisted on an indefinite engagement although he had always objected to it-that it had been all very jolly for me, no doubt, but that he had had a most disagreeable time of it, and so on. Then he actually hinted that I had only changed my mind because I had begun to consider him as a kind of refuge from Mr. Topham-as if I could ever be made to marry against my will! Of course I couldn't stand that, so I said

Well, I needn't trouble you with what I said; but he didn't like it, and began to talk a lot of nonsense about resigning his post at the office, and going to Australia to prospect for gold.

"Ridiculous," said Sir Peregrine.. "His chief, Sir Julian Blunt, told me the other day that he was one of the most promising young men in the service. I confess I find it hard to believe, after reading that unhappy sonnet. Is it possible that the other young men at the office could write anything worse? However, I suppose he perpetrated it out of office hours! What happened next?"

"I told him that he was silly. No man can stand that; and Charles is dreadfully sensitive to ridicule, so he lost his temper and talked more nonsense. At last he said that I had treated him disgracefully, that all was over between us, and rushed away, saying that I had seen him for the last time."

Sir Peregrine smiled. "I don't think the situation is so very terrible," he said.

"Well, of course, I thought it would be all right again next day. But this morning, instead of an apology, I received that dreadful sonnet. It was brought by his servant, who told me that Mr. Ernshaw had left London and had not said when he would return. Now, you may think me absurd, but you must remember that I like him, in spite of his nonsense, better than any one else in the world"-Sir Peregrine raised his eyebrows in momentary surprise at this confession"and when I had read the verses I began to wonder, and wonder what they could mean, and what it was that he was going to do, till at last I began to feel afraid that he might-that he might do something rash."

Sir Peregrine asked himself if she could possibly be thinking that the young man was such a jackass as to be contemplating suicide. He did not want to suggest the notion to her, so he inquired diplomatically—

"You don't really suppose that he is likely to-to do anything irretrievably foolish?" She hesitated.

I am afraid or what I am afraid of. But he might by some precipitate action ruin his prospects-by going off to Australia, for instance."

"Not at a moment's notice, surely?" "I hope not, but he was always rather abrupt in deciding on a course of action. But that's what I've come here for, Sir Peregrine! I want you to advise."

He did not attempt to laugh away her apprehensions, which, indeed, appeared to him to be sufficiently ill founded. He rang the bell. The first thing to do," he said, "is to go to his rooms-Jermyn Street, is it? find out where he has gone, if possible, and discover anything else that may throw light on his proceedings. Ach met call a hansom.

She was evidently anxious to take part in prompt action of some kind. "Let me come with you," she said.

"Of course," he replied; and, baving put Mr. Ernshaw's sonnet in his waistcoat pocket, he handed her into the cab.

III.

Mr. Ernshaw's servant seemed at first disposed to be somewhat reserved. in his communications to Miss Nevil; he knew her well, and regarded her with that instinctive distrust which is felt by all bachelor's servants toward a person whom they consider to be a danger to the permanence of a comfortable establishment, as yet happily free from the irritating supremacy of It was clear, however, from his manner that he was uneasy on his master's account, and on hearing the name of his other visitor he readily enough submitted to impart all that he knew. He said that Mr. Ernshaw had come home late the night before, "and not in the best of tempers, sir." He had walked straight up to his bedroom, banged the door, and had been heard walking up and down for a long time after.

"And this morning, sir," said the servant solemnly, "Mr. Ernshaw was up and dressed at half-past seven."

"Was that an unusually early hour for him ?"

"It was, sir, Mr. Ernshaw not being what you might call an early riser.

But he did something still more unusual when I brought him his breakfast; didn't touch a morsel-not to eat, that's to say."

"He did drink something, then?" "Drink something! I believe you, sir. And it wasn't cawfy, nor yet tea neither. I wouldn't have believed it, sir, if I hadn't been in the room at the time, having brought the cruets which I'd forgotten, what with breakfast being so extry early, and he such a sparing gentleman with his drinks."

Miss Nevil, who was becoming a little impatient, put in "Well, what did he drink?"

The man continued deliberately, with an obvious feeling for dramatic effect, "He took down that bottle, miss, from that sideboard and filled a tumbler-a tumbler, sir; and drank it off in three gulps.'

"Impossible" exclaimed the Baronet, who had inspected the bottle. "Why, it's Benedictine !"

"It is, sir. Never saw such a thing in my life-and nigh on half a pint !" Sir Peregrine gasped.

"And what did you do?" asked poor Jane, rather weakly.

"Do, miss? I did nothing. But what I expected to do was to put him to bed and send for a doctor. So I just made belief to be arranging something at the sideboard, and stopped in the room."

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Why, sir, he just sat as still as a stone for about ten minutes, and then he turns round sharp, and tells me to bring him a Bradshaw's Guide and a Whitaker's Almanack. Yes, sir, he looked as if he'd been turned into stone, and every bit as steady! Well, I gave him what he asked for, and as I was a bit nervous about him-as you may suppose-I just peeped over his shoulder when he was looking into Whitaker to try and find out what he was after. But he only runs his eye over the "Calendar for the month of March," and then puts the book down on the table. What he wanted Bradshaw for I can't say, because I had to go off again and fetch him ink and pen