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Fleece, Counts of France, and Princes Polish and it on the Trente et Quarante. Sometimes I have Italian innumerable, who perfume the gilded halls had a mind to go home; my mother, who is an with their tobacco-smoke, and swear in all lan- angel all forgiveness, would receive her prodigal, guages against the Black and the Red. The fa- and kill the fatted veal for me. But what will mous English monosyllable by which things, per- you? He annoys me—the domestic veal. Besons, luck, even eyes, are devoted to the infernal sides, my brother the Abbé, though the best of gods, we may be sure is not wanting in that Ba- Christians, is a Jew upon certain matters; a bel. Where does one not hear it? “D— the Bénazet who will not troquer absolution except luck," says Lord Kew, as the croupier sweeps against repentance; and I have not for a sou of off his lordship's rouleaux. «D- the luck," repentance in my pocket! I have been sorry, yes says Brown, the bagman, who has been backing --but it was because odd came up in place of his lordship with five franc pieces. “Ah, body even, or the reverse. The accursed après has of Bacchus !” says Count Felice, whom we all chased me like a remorse, and when black has remember a courier. " Ah, sacré coup,” cries M. come up I have wished myself converted to red. le Vicomte de Florac, as his last Louis parts com- | Otherwise I have no repentance-I am joueurpany from him-each cursing in his native tongue. nature has made me so, as she made my brother O sweet chorus!

dévot. The Archbishop of Strasbourg is of our That Lord Kew should be at Baden is no won parents : I saw his grandeur when I went lately der. If you heard of him at the Finish, or at to Strasbourg, on my last pilgrimage to the Mont Buckingham Palace ball, or in a watch-house, or de Piété. I owned to him that I would pawn at the Third Cataract, or at a Newmarket meet- his cross and ring to go play: the good prelate ing, you would not be surprised. He goes every laughed, and said his chaplain should keep an where; does every thing with all his might ; eye on them. Will you dine with me? The knows every body. Last week he won who landlord of my hotel was the intendant of our knows how many thousand Louis from the bank cousin, the Duc d'Ivry, and will give me credit (it appears Brown has chosen one of the unlucky to the day of judgment. I do not abuse his days to back his lordship). He will eat his sup- noble confidence. My dear! there are covers per as gayly after a great victory as after a signal of silver put upon my table every day with defeat ; and we know that to win with mag- which I could retrieve my fortune, did I listen to nanimity requires much more constancy than to the suggestions of Satanas; but I say to him, lose. His sleep will not be disturbed by one Vade retro. Come and dine with me-Duluc's event or the other. He will play skittles all the kitchen is very good.” morning with perfect contentment, romp with These easy confessions were uttered by a genchildren in the forenoon (he is the friend of half tleman who was nearly forty years of age, and the children in the place), or he will cheerfully who had indeed played the part of a young man leave the green-table and all the risk and excite- in Paris and the great European world so long, ment there, to take a hand at sixpenny whist that he knew or chose to perform no other. He with General Fogey, or to give the six Miss did not want for abilities ; had the best temper in Fogeys a turn each in the ball-room. From H. R. the world; was well bred and gentlemanlike alH. the Prince Royal of — , who is the greatest ways; and was gay even after Moscow. His guest at Baden, down to Brown the bagman, who courage was known, and his character for bravery does not consider himself the smallest, Lord Kew and another kind of gallantry probably exaggeris hail fellow with every body, and has a kind ated by his bad reputation. Had his mother not word from and for all.

been alive, perhaps he would have believed in the

virtue of no woman. But this one he worshiped, CHAPTER XXVIII.

and spoke with tenderness and enthusiasm of her IN WHICH CLIVE BEGINS TO SEE THE WORLD. constant love and patience and goodness. “See In the company assembled at Baden, Clive her miniature !” he said, “I never separate my. found one or two old acquaintances; among them self from it-o, never! It saved my life in an his friend of Paris, M. de Florac, not in quite so affair about-about a woman who was not worth brilliant a condition as when Newcome had last the powder which poor Jules and I burned for met him on the Boulevard. Florac owned that her. His ball struck me here, upon the waistFortune had been very unkind to him at Baden; coat, bruising my rib and sending me to my bed, and, indeed, she had not only emptied his purse, which I never should have left alive but for this but his portmanteaus, jewel box, and linen closet picture. O, she is an angel, my mother. I am

the contents of all of which had ranged them- sure that Heaven has nothing to deny that saint, selves on the red and black against Monsieur) and that her tears wash out my sins. Bénazet's crown pieces : whatever side they took! Clive smiled. “I think Madame de Florac was, however, the unlucky one. “This cam-must weep a good deal,” he said. paign has been my Moscow, mon cher,” Florac “Enormément, my friend! My faith! I do owned to Clive. “I am conquered by Bénazet; not deny it! I give her cause, night and evenI have lost in almost every combat. I have losting. I am possessed by demons! This little my treasure, my baggage, my ammunition of war, Affenthaler wine of this country has a little every thing but my honor, which, au reste, Mons. smack which is most agreeable. The passions Bénazet will not accept as a stake: if he would, tear me, my young friend! Play is fatal, but there are plenty here, believe me, who would set play is not so fatal as woman; pass me the

écrévisses, they are most succulent. Take warn- ' “ You tell me to marry and range myself," ing by me, and avoid both. I saw you roder said Clive (to whom the Viscount was expatiating round the green-tables, and marked your eyes as upon the charms of the superbe young Anglaise they glistened over the heaps of gold, and looked with whom he had seen Clive walking on the at some of our beauties of Baden. Beware of promenade). “Why do you not marry and range such syrens, young man! and take me for your yourself too ?” Mentor; avoiding what I have done that under- “Eh, my dear! I am married already. You stands itself. You have not played as yet? Do do not know it? I am married since the Revonot do so; above all avoid a martingale, if you do.lution of July. Yes. We were poor in those Play ought not to be an affair of calculation, but days, as poor we remain. My cousins the Duc of inspiration. I have calculated infallibly; and d'Ivry's sons and his grandson were still alive. what has been the effect? Gousset empty, tiroirs, Seeing no other resource, and pursued by the empty, nécessaire parted for Strasbourg! Where Arabs, I espoused the Vicomtesse de Florac. I is my fur pelisse, Frédéric ?”

gave her my name, you comprehend, in exchange w Parbleu vous le savez bien, Monsieur le for her own odious one. She was Miss Higg. Vicomte,” says Frederic, the domestic, who was Do you know the family Higg of Manchesterre, waiting on Clive and his friend.

in the comté of Lancastre? She was then a "A pelisse lined with true sable, and worth person of a ripe age. The Vicomtesse is nowthree thousand francs, that I won of a little Rus- ah! it is fifteen years since, and she dies not. sian at billiards. That pelisse is at Strasbourg Our union was not happy, my friend-Madame (where the infamous worms of the Mount of Paul de Florac is of the reformed religion-not Piety are actually gnawing her). Two hundred of the Anglican church, you understand—but a francs and this reconnaissance, which Frédéric dissident I know not of what sort. We inhabited receive, are all that now represents the pelisse. the Hotel de Florac for a while after our union, How many chemises have I, Frédéric ?"

which was all of convenience, you understand. “Eh, parbleu, Monsieur le Vicomte sait bien She filled her salon with ministers to make you que nous avons toujours vingt-quatre chemises," die. She assaulted my poor father in his gardensays Frederic, grumbling.

chair, whence he could not escape her. She told Monsieur le Vicomte springs up shrieking from my sainted mother that she was an idolatress the dinner-table. “Twenty-four shirts," says he, she who only idolatrizes her children! She " and I have been a week without a Louis in my called us other poor Catholics who follow the pocket! Bélître! Nigaud !He flings open rites of our fathers, des Romishes; and Rome, one drawer after another, but there are no signs | Babylon, and the Holy Father-a scarlet-eh! a of that superfluity of linen of which the domestic scarlet abomination. She outraged my mother, spoke, whose countenance now changes from a that angel; essayed to convert the antechamber grim frown to a grim smile.

and the office; put little books in the abbé's bed"Ah, my faithful Frédéric, I pardon thee! room. Eh, my friend! what a good king was Mr. Newcome will understand my harmless Charles IX., and his mother, what a wise soversupercherie. Frédéric was in my company of eign! I lament that Madame de Florac should the Guard, and remains with me since. He is have escaped the St. Barthélemi, when no doubt Caleb Balderstone and I am Ravenswood. Yes, she was spared on account of her tender age. I am Edgard. Let us have coffee and a cigar, We have been separated for many years; her Balderstone."

income was greatly exaggerated. Beyond the " Plait-il, Monsieur le Vicomte ?" says the payment of my debts I owe her nothing. I wish French Caleb.

I could say as much of all the rest of the world. - Thou comprehendest not English. Thou shall we take a turn of promenade? Maurais readest not Valtare Scott, thou !" cries the mas- sujet! I see you are longing to be at the greenter. “I was recounting to Monsieur Newcome table." thy history and my misfortunes. Go seek coffee Clive was not longing to be at the green-table; for us, Nigaud.And as the two gentlemen but his companion was never easy at it or away partake of that exhilarating liquor, the elder con- from it. Next to winning, losing, M. de Florac fides gayly to his guest the reason why he prefers said, was the best sport-next to losing, looking taking coffee at the Hotel to the coffee at the great on. So he and Clive went down to the Redoute, Café of the Redoute, with a duris urgens in rébūs where Lord Kew was playing with a crowd of égestāss ! pronounced in the true French manner. awe-struck amateurs, and breathless punters ad

Clive was greatly amused by the gayety of the miring his valor and fortune ; and Clive, saying Viscount after his misfortunes and his Moscow; that he knew nothing about the game, took out and thought that one of Mr. Baines's circular five Napoleons from his purse, and besought notes might not be ill laid out in succoring this Florac to invest them in the most profitable manhero. It may have been to this end that Florac's ner at roulette. The other made some faint atconfessions tended; though to do him justice the tempts at a scruple : but the money was speedily incorrigible young fellow would confide his ad | laid on the table, where it increased and multiventures to any one who would listen ; and the plied amazingly too; so that in a quarter of an exact state of his wardrobe, and the story of his hour Florac brought quite a handful of gold pieces pawned pelisse, dressing-case, rings and watches, to his principal. Then Clive, I dare say blushing were known to all Baden.

| as he made the proposal, offered half the handful of Napoleons to M. de Florac, to be repaid when Ridley shrank away from such lawless people he thought fit. And fortune must have been with the delicacy belonging to his timid and revery favorable to the husband of Miss Higg that tiring nature, but it must be owned that Mr. night ; for in the course of an hour he insisted on Clive was by no means so squeamish. He did paying back Clive's loan; and two days after- not know in the first place the mystery of their ward appeared with his shirt-studs (of course iniquities; and his sunny kindly spirit, undimmed with his shirts also) released from captivity, his by any of the cares which clouded it subsequently, watch, rings, and chains, on the parade; and was was disposed to shine upon all people alike. The observed to wear his celebrated fur pelisse as he world was welcome to him : the day a pleasure : drove back in a britzka from Strasbourg. “As all nature a gay feast : scarce any dispositions for myself," wrote Clive, “I put back into my discordant with his own (for pretension only purse the five Napoleons with which I had be- made him laugh, and hypocrisy he will never be gun; and laid down the whole mass of winnings able to understand if he lives to be a hundred on the table, where it was doubled and then years old): the night brought him a long sleep, quadrupled, and then swept up by the croupiers, and the morning a glad waking. To those privigreatly to my ease of mind. And then Lord Kew leges of youth what enjoyments of age are comasked me to supper, and we had a merry night." parable ? what achievements of ambition? what

This was Mr. Clive's first and last appearance rewards of money and fame? Clive's happy as a gambler. J. J. looked very grave when he friendly nature shone out of his face; and almost heard of these transactions. Clive's French all who beheld it felt kindly toward him. As · friend did not please his English companion at those guileless virgins of romance and ballad, all, nor the friends of Clive's French friend, the who walk smiling through dark forests, charming Russians, the Spaniards, the Italians, of sound-off dragons and confronting lions; the young ing titles and glittering decorations, and the man as yet went through the world harmless; no ladies who belonged to their society. He saw giant waylaid him as yet; no robbing ogre fed by chance Ethel, escorted by her cousin Lord on him: and (greatest danger of all for one of Kew, passing through a crowd of this company his ardent nature) no winning enchantress or one day. There was not one woman there who artful syren coaxed him to her cave, or lured him was not the heroine of some discreditable story. into her waters-haunts into which we know so It was the Comtesse Calypso who had been jilted many young simpletons are drawn, and where by the Duc Ulysse. It was the Marquise Ariane their silly bones are picked and their tender flesh to whom the Prince Thésée had behaved so devoured. shamefully, and who had taken to Bacchus as a The time was short which Clive spent at Baden, consolation. It was Madame Médée, who had for it has been said the winter was approaching, and absolutely killed her old father by her conduct the destination of our young artists was Rome; regarding Jason: she had done every thing for but he may have passed some score of days here, Jason: she had got him the toison d'or from the to which he and another person in that pretty Queen Mother, and now had to meet him every watering-place possibly looked back afterward, day with his little blonde bride on his arm! J.J. | as not the unhappiest period of their lives. compared Ethel moving in the midst of these Among Colonel Newcome's papers to which the folks, to the Lady amidst the rout of Comus. family biographer has had subsequent access, There they were, the Fauns and Satyrs : there there are a couple of letters from Clive, dated they were, the merry Pagans : drinking and Baden at this time, and full of happiness, gayety, dancing, dicing and sporting; laughing oul jests and affection. Letter No. 1 says, “ Ethel is the that never should be spoken ; whispering ren- prettiest girl here. At the assemblies all the dezvous to be written in midnight calendars; princes, counts, dukes, Parthians, Medes, and jeering at honest people who passed under their Elamites, are dying to dance with her. She sends palace windows-jolly rebels and repealers of her dearest love to her uncle." By the side of the law. Ah, if Mrs. Brown, whose children are the words, "prettiest girl," was written in a frank gone to bed at the Hotel, knew but the history female hand the monosyllable, “Stuff;" and as a of that calm dignified looking gentleman who sits note to the expression, “dearest love," with a under her, and over whose patient back she star to mark the text and the note, are squeezed frantically advances and withdraws her two-franc in the same feminine characters at the bottom of piece, while his own columns of Louis d'or are Clive's page, the words, “That I do. É. N." offering battle to fortune-how she would shrink In letter No. 2, the first two pages are closely away from the shoulder which she pushes! That written in Clive's handwriting, describing his purman so calm and well-bred, with a string of orders suits and studies, and giving amusing details of on his breast, so well-dressed, with such white the life at Baden, and the company whom he hands, has stabbed trusting hearts; severed met there-narrating his rencontre with their family ties; written lying vows; signed false Paris friend, M. de Florac, and the arrival of oaths; torn up pitilessly tender appeals for re- the Duchesse d'Ivry, Florac's cousin, whose dress, and tossed away into the fire supplications | titles the Vicomte will probably inherit. Not blistered with tears; packed cards and cogged a word about Florac's gambling propensities are dice; or used pistol or sword as calmly and mentioned in the letter; but Clive honestly dexterously as he now ranges his battalions of confesses that he has staked five Napoleons, gold pieces.

doubled them, quadrupled them, won ever so much, lost it all back again, and come away here, with their meek little daughter, Clara from the table with his original five pounds in Pulleyn; and Barnes is coming. Uncle Hobson his pocket-proposing never to play any more. has returned to Lombard Street to relieve guard. * Ethel,” he concludes, “is looking over my I think you will hear before very long of Lady shoulder. She thinks me such a delightful creat- Clara Newcome. Grandmamma, who was to have ure that she is never easy without me. She bids presided at the Congress of Baden, and still, you me to say that I am the best of sons and cousins, know, reigns over the house of Kew, has been stopand am, in a word, a darling du ..." The rest ped at Kissingen with an attack of rheumatism; of this important word is not given, but goose is I pity poor aunt Julia, who can never leave her. added in the female hand. In the faded ink, on Here are all our news. I declare I have filled the yellow paper that may have crossed and re- the whole page; men write closer than we do. crossed oceans, that has lain locked in chests for I wear the dear brooch you gave me, often and years, and buried under piles of family archives, often; I think of you always, dear, kind uncle, as while your friends have been dying and your your affectionate Ethel." head has grown white—who has not disinterred mementoes like these—from which the past smiles | Besides roulette and trente et quarante, a numat you so sadly, shimmering out of Hades an in- ber of amusing games are played at Baden, which stant but to sink back again into the cold shades, are not performed, so to speak, sur table. These perhaps with a faint, faint sound as of a remem- little diversions and jeux de société can go on any bered tone—a ghostly echo of a once familiar where ; in an alley in the park; in a pic-nic to laughter? I was looking of late at a wall in this old schloss, or that pretty hunting-lodge; at the Naples museum, whereon a boy of Hercu- a tea-table in a lodging-house or hotel ; in a ball laneum, eighteen hundred years ago, had scratch- at the Redoute ; in the play-rooms, behind the ed with a nail the figure of a soldier. I could fancy backs of the gamblers, whose eyes are only cast the child turning round and smiling on me after upon rakes and rouleaux, and red and black ; or having done his etching. Which of us that is on the broad walk in front of the Conversation thirty years old has not had his Pompeii? Deep Rooms, where thousands of people are drinking under ashes lies the Life of Youth-the careless and chattering, lounging and smoking, while the Sport, the Pleasure and Passion, the darling Joy. Austrian brass band, in the little music pavilion, You open an old letter-box and look at your own plays the most delightful mazurkas and waltzes. childish scrawls, or your mother's letters to you Here the widow plays her black suit, and sets when you were at school; and excavate your her bright eyes against the rich bachelor, elderly heart. O me for the day when the whole city or young as may be. Here the artful practitioner, shall be bare and the chambers unroofed—and who has dealt in a thousand such games, engages every cranny visible to the light above, from the the young simpleton with more money than wit; Forum to the Lupanar!

and knowing his weakness and her skill, we may Ethel takes up the pen. “My dear uncle," safely take the odds, and back rouge et couleur she says, “while Clive is sketching out of win- to win. Here mamma, not having money, perdow, let me write you a line or two on his paper, haps, but metal more attractive, stakes her virgin though I know you like to hear no one speak but daughter against Count Fettacker's forests and him. I wish I could draw him for you as he meadows; or Lord Lackland plays his coronet, stands yonder, looking the picture of good health, of which the jewels have long since been in good spirits, and good humor. Every body likes pawn, against Miss Bags' three per cents. And him. He is quite unaffected ; always gay; al so two or three funny little games were going on ways pleased. He draws more and more beau at Baden among our immediate acquaintance; tifully every day; and his affection for young Mr. besides that vulgar sport round the green-table, at Ridley, who is really a most excellent and aston- which the mob, with whom we have little to do, ishing young man, and actually a better artist was elbowing each other. A hint of these domesthan Clive himself, is most romantic, and does tic prolusions has been given to the reader in your son the greatest credit. You will order Clive the foregoing extract from Miss Ethel Newcome's not to sell his pictures, won't you? I know it is letter: likewise some passions have been in play, not wrong, but your son might look higher than of which a modest young English maiden could to be an artist. It is a rise for Mr. Ridley, but a not be aware. Do not, however, let us be too fall for him. An artist, an organist, a pianist, all prematurely proud of our virtue. That tariff of Liese are very good people, but you know not de British virtue is wonderfully organized. Heaven totre monde, and Clive ought to belong to it. help the society which made its laws! Gnats

“We met him at Bonn on our way to a great are shut out of its ports, or not admitted without mmily gathering here ; where, I must tell you, scrutiny and repugnance, while herds of camels we are assembled for what I call the Congress are let in. The law professes to exclude some of Baden! The chief of the house of Kew is here, goods (or bads shall we call them ?)—well, some and what time he does not devote to skittles, to articles of baggage, which are yet smuggled opensmoking cigars, to the jou in the evenings, to ly under the eyes of winking officers, and worn Madame d'Ivry, to Madam de Cruchecassée, every day without shame. Shame! What is and the foreign people (of whom there are a host shame? Virtue is very often shameful according here of the worst kind, as usual), he graciously to the English social constitution, and shame bestows on me. Lord and Lady Dorking are honorable. Truth, if yours happens to differ from

your neighbor's, provokes your friend's coldness, trouble and any future haggling, you know. your mother's tears, the world's persecution. Then at the end of the season the owner would Love is not to be dealt in, save under restrictions come to carry us home.” which kill its sweet healthy free commerce. Sin Grandmamma only said, “Ethel, you are a in man is so light, that scarce the fine of a pen- fool," and hobbled on to Mr. Cattermole's picture ny is imposed; while for woman it is so heavy, hard by. “What splendid color; what a romanthat no repentance can wash it out. Ah! yes ; | tic gloom ; what a flowing pencil and dexterous all stories are old. You proud matrons in your hand!” Lady Kew could delight in pictures, apMay-fair markets, have you never seen a virgin plaud good poetry, and squeeze out a tear over a sold, or sold one? Have you never heard of a good novel too. That afternoon, young Dawkins, poor wayfarer fallen among robbers, and not a the rising water-color artist, who used to come Pharisee to help him? of a poor woman fallen daily to the gallery and stand delighted before his more sadly yet, abject in repentance and tears, own piece, was aghast to perceive that there was and a crowd to stone her? I pace this broad no green ticket in the corner of his frame, and he Baden walk as the sunset is gilding the hills pointed out the deficiency to the keeper of the round about, as the orchestra blows its merry pictures. His landscape, however, was sold and tunes, as the happy children laugh and sport in paid for, so no great mischief occurred. On that the alleys, as the lamps of the gambling palace same evening, when the Newcome family assemare lighted up, as the throngs of pleasure-hunters bled at dinner in Park Lane, Ethel appeared with stroll, and smoke, and flirt, and hum; and won- a bright green ticket pinned in the front of her der sometimes, is it the sinners who are the most white muslin frock; and when asked what this sinful? Is it poor Prodigal yonder among the queer fancy meant, she made Lady Kew a courtbad company, calling black and red, and tossing esy, looking her full in the face, and turning the Champagne ; or brother Straightlace that round to her father, said, “I am a tableau-vivant, grudges his repentance? Is it downcast Hagar papa. I am number 46 in the Exhibition of the that slinks away with poor little Ishmael in her Gallery of Painters in Water-colors." hand; or bitter old virtuous Sarah, who scowls “My love, what do you mean?" says mamma; at her from my demure Lord Abraham's arm ? and Lady Kew, jumping up on her crooked stick

One day of the previous May, when of course with immense agility, tore the card out of Ethel's every body went to visit the Water-color Exhibi- l bosom, and very likely would have boxed her ears, tions, Ethel Newcome was taken to see the pic- but that her parents were present and Lord Kew tures by her grandmother, that rigorous old Lady was announced. Kew, who still proposed to reign over all her Ethel talked about pictures the whole evening, family. The girl had high spirit, and very likely and would talk of nothing else. Grandmamma hot words had passed between the elder and the went away furious. “She told Barnes, and younger lady; such as I am given to understand when every body was gone there was a pretty will be uttered in the most polite families. They row in the building,” said Madam Ethel, with an came to a piece by Mr. Hunt, representing one of arch look, when she narrated the story. “Barnes those figures which he knows how to paint with was ready to kill me and eat me; but I never such consummate truth and pathos-a friendless was afraid of Barnes." And the biographer young girl, cowering in a door-way, evidently gathers from this little anecdote narrated to him, without home or shelter. The exquisite fidelity never mind by whom, at a long subsequent peof the details, and the plaintive beauty of the ex- riod, that there had been great disputes in Sir pression of the child, attracted old Lady Kew's Brian Newcome's establishment, fierce drawingadmiration, who was an excellent judge of works room battles, whereof certain pictures of a cerof art ; and she stood for some time looking at tain painter might have furnished the cause, and the drawing, with Ethel by her side. Nothing, in which Miss Newcome had the whole of the in truth, could be more simple or pathetic ; Ethel family forces against her. That such battles take laughed, and her grandmother, looking up from place in other domestic establishments, who shall her stick on which she hobbled about, saw a very say or shall not say? Who, when he goes out sarcastic expression in the girl's eyes.

to dinner, and is received by a bland host with a * You have no taste for pictures, only for gay shake of the hand, and a pretty hostess with painters, I suppose,” said Lady Kew.

a gracious smile of welcome, dares to think that “I was not looking at the picture," said Ethel, Mr. Johnson up-stairs, half an hour before, was still with a smile, “but at the little green ticket swearing out of his dressing-room at Mrs. Johnin the corner.”

son, for having ordered a turbot instead of a "Sold,” said Lady Kew. “Of course it is sold; salmon, or that Mrs. Johnson, now talking to all Mr. Hunt's pictures are sold. There is not Lady Jones so nicely about their mutual darling one of them here on which you won't see the children, was crying her eyes out as her maid green ticket. He is a most admirable artist. I was fastening her gown, as the carriages were don't know whether his comedy or tragedy are actually driving up? The servants know these the most excellent."

things, but not we in the dining-room. Hark, “I think, grandmamma,” Ethel said, “we young with what a respectful tone Johnson begs the ladies in the world, when we are exhibiting, ought clergyman present to say grace! to have little green tickets pinned on our backs, Whatever these family quarrels may have been, with • Sold' wntten on them ; it would prevent let by-gones be by-gones, and let us be perfectly

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