he were to read hard during his year of exile and get a first. What good was a first against all those blue envelopes? He wondered why ticks always came in blue envelopes. Then the duns would be down upon him in the country; and how was a man to read with a dun dropping in every ten minutes? No; nothing for it but New Zealand. Knew a fellow who went out there, who made lots of money in a few years -drove cattle, he believed, or kept a 'store' 'up the country.' Wondered where up the country' was, and how he should like keeping a shop. Rather jolly, he should think-and fancy dunning instead of being dunned! Curly rushed in, clad in flannels.

'Come along, Georgie; we ought to be down at the river now.'

'What for?' said George, still looking at the bills.

Oh, you can't have forgotten the procession of boats, and you captain, you know.'

'I don't think I shall go down,' said George, gloomily.

'But you must. Bruton steers, you know, and swears that bow and stroke shall keep their oars in the water opposite the 'Varsity barge, and you know we had agreed to toss all eight. He can't swim, and the water is awfully high.'

'Of course we toss them all. Wait till I dress, and I'll go down with you.'

And they went down to the boats together.

The day was wretchedly cold for the end of May. The sky was filled with driving clouds, and the wind swept across the river in gusts, clashing the great branches of the huge elms together. The river, usually so low in summer, was swollen by heavy rains, and almost covering the banks, rushed in a yellow, whirling, angry stream past the barges and under the Long Bridges.' With the gusts of wind came often grey columns of wide-spreading mist, which seemed to shroud the lower river and distant hills. The flags flaunting from the barges from their creaking poles in all their glory of blue and purple, white and crimson, orange

and green, only served to make the scene more dismal; whilst instead of the gaily-dressed crowds of ladies on the tops of the barges, only a few who had brothers or sons, or forms more dear in the boats, ventured to face the storm. The river was empty of boats, except one solitary sculler far down the river, who like a great spider toiled up the stream.

Curly and George walked down arm-in-arm and silently. 'I saw Miss Foster going down to the river,' Curly had said; and George wondered what she looked likewhether she was changed, whether she despised him as much as she had said. And he told himself that he had deserved it all-that a wild, dissipated, useless fellow like himself was not worthy to touch the hem of the garment of a woman so pure as Ellie Foster. He remembered the last time he had seen herhow she had hung around his neck, and with great tears coming up into her brown eyes, had begged her dear Georgie not to go on at Oxford as he had begun. Then he had asked her who had informed her of his life there, and she had mentioned Mr. Bruton. Last of all, he remembered that cold letter from her, telling him that she could not see him any more.

And pretty Ellie Foster from the top of the barge saw him coming who had once been her hero (and her idol, and she thought how tall and handsome he looked, and wondered whether all that Mr. Bruton told her could be true of a man who had such frank, honest eyes. Then she heard the dispute between George and Bruton about tossing oars, and heard George say, if Bruton was afraid to trust himself in the boat they must find some one else to steer. And Bruton replied that after that they might toss as many oars as they chose, he should go with the boat. Then she saw the men get into the long and slender eight-oar. Last of all came George, who was stroke and sat facing Bruton, and she contrasted them, hardly to the advantage of her future husband. Her old lover sat in the boat strong and beautiful as a