apartments with the proud and pleasant sensation of not owing a guinea in the world. Since the encounter with the bailiffs he had been cautious of visiting any of the public places, but in the triumph of his new-born independence he determined to parade the Mall and the Parks, at if to prove to all the world his freedom from embarrassment; resolving on the following morning to commence measures for the discovery of Mr. Strickland's present retreat, and, if possible, of his past history.

In pursuance of this arrangement, he dressed himself and sallied forth to the Mall, which the keeper was at that moment sprinkling with a cement of powdered cockle-shells, to give the better rebound to the balls, as a match was to be played next day by the King and the Duke of York, against some of the courtiers. Here he met Lady Castlemaine superbly dressed in a flowered silk spagnolet, a coif of right point lace, a yellow bird's-eye hood, an embroidered boddice, and a long fringed train to her petticoat,

which was held up by a little black page, while another servant followed in a rich chocolate livery lined with amber mohair and silver buttons, leading a liver-coloured tumbler-dog by a crimson ribbon. Her Ladyship was leaning on the arm of a female companion, and chatting to a gay band of the court fops and flatterers who were dangling and flaunting around her. To one she had entrusted her silver flask of sal-ammoniac, a second carried her perfumed fan, a third had the custody of her loo mask, and a fourth of her vizor, for she was provided with both, to be used according to the state of the wind and sun. Giving a graceful swing to the pomander-ball which was attached to her side by a gold chain, she occasionally launched it in mock anger against such of the gallants as were too forward in their dalliance, none of whom, however, seemed to stand in much awe of this perfumed punishment. As she passed Jocelyn, she eyed him with a scornful toss of the head, which convinced him that

she had not forgotten the trick, by which her consent to his return had been extorted; and that although he had obtained her pardon, he was by no means absolved from her hatred.

Unsolicitous of her friendship, and determined to afford her no excuse for the exercise of her malice, he pursued his course until he found himself by the entrance of Spring Gardens, along whose palings he remembered to have skulked at the time of his escape from the Gate-house. On passing into the enclosure, he was surprised to find himself in a sylvan retreat agreeable for the solemnness of the grove, the warbling of the birds, and the occasional views it afforded of the spacious walks of St. James's. It contained thickets, arbours and alcoves, well adapted to the purposes of gallantry; while the Paradise Tavern, in the centre of the gardens, endeavoured to justify its name by beatifying the guests with various salacious condiments and beakers of Rhenish wine. From this spot he wandered into St. James's Park, and seating

himself beneath the statue of the gladiator, gazed listlessly at the elks, antelopes, roebucks, stags and deer, that were grazing before him; marked the numerous flocks of wild-fowl that were hovering about the aviary and the decoy; or listened to the singing of the birds suspended in cages from the trees, in that quarter of the park which still retains the name of the Bird Cage Walk.

out

From the hurried pace and eager conversation of two or three parties that passed him, and were pointing to the sky, he now first gathered that a devastating fire had broken in the city, which was consuming all before it; and upon looking at the heavens, he marked the red and baleful glare, that indicates an extensive conflagration. So completely had love regained possession of his mind, that his first thought was the possibility of danger to Julia. She might be an inmate of Alderman Staunton's house; the fire might have broken out in that quarter; she might at that

moment be exposed to peril.

This was a com

bination that would hardly have appeared probable except to the sensitive apprehensions of a lover; but to Jocelyn it seemed so feasible, that he resolved to hurry instantly into the city, and fly to the rescue of his mistress, for such he spiritually termed her from the moment that he imagined her life to be in jeopardy. Returning to Whitehall, for the purpose of making some previous alterations in his dress, he had the mortification of being told that the Queen desired his immediate attendance, as she had occasion for his official services. Such an order was now of rare occurrence, and, to add to his annoyance, he was detained, on the present occasion, until the night had set in.

No sooner was he liberated than he hastened to the water-side, and stepping into a wherry, desired to be rowed to the city. Being enabled to gaze down the river, the Fire, which was now not only exposed to observation without the intervention of houses,