shepherd back, she dismissed the Pasteur Gri-made him only the more eager to make her acgou. Then she tired of M. l'Abbé again, and quaintance, but that a much nobler attraction my brother is come out from her, shaking his drew him elsewhere. At first, being introduced good head. Ah! she must have put things into to Madame d'Ivry's salon, he was pleased and it which astonished the good Abbé! You know flattered, and behaved himself there merrily and he has since taken the Dominican robe? My agreeably enough. He had not studied Horace word of honor! I believe it was terror of her that Vernet for nothing; he drew a fine picture of drove him into a convent. You shall see him at Kew rescuing her from the Arabs, with a plenty Rome, Clive. Give him news of his elder, and of sabres, pistols, bournouses, and dromedaries. tell him this gross prodigal is repenting among He made a pretty sketch of her little girl Antoithe swine. My word of honor! I desire but the nette, and a wonderful likeness of Miss O'Grady, death of Madame la Vicomtesse de Florac, to the little girl's governess, the mother's dame de marry and range myself! compagnie-Miss O'Grady, with the richest Milesian brogue, who had been engaged to give But the

French lady's great eyes and painted smiles would not bear comparison with Ethel's natural brightness and beauty. Clive, who had been appointed painter in ordinary to the Queen of Scots, neglected his business, and went over to the English faction; so did one or two more of the Princess's followers, leaving her Majesty by no means well pleased at their desertion.

"After being Royalist, Philippist, Catholic, Huguenot, Madame d'Ivry must take to Panthe-Antoinette the pure English accent. ism, to bearded philosophers who believe in nothing, not even in clean linen, eclecticism, republicanism, what know I? All her changes have been chronicled by books of her composition. Les Démons, poem Catholic; Charles IX. is the hero, and the demons are shot for the most part at the catastrophe of St. Bartholomew. My good mother, all good Catholic as she is, was startled by the boldness of this doctrine. Then there came Une Dragonnade, par Mme. There had been many quarrels between M. La Duchesse d'Ivry, which is all on your side. d'Ivry and his next of kin. Political differences, That was of the time of the Pastor Grigou, that private differences-a long story. The Duke, The last was Les Dieux déchus, poeme en who had been wild himself, could not pardon the 20 chants, par Mme. la D—— d'I. Guard your-Vicomte de Florac for being wild. Efforts at self well from this Muse! If she takes a fancy reconciliation had been made which ended unto you, she will never leave you alone. If you successfully. The Vicomte de Florac had been see her often, she will fancy you are in love with allowed for a brief space to be intimate with the her, and tell her husband. She always tells my chief of his family, and then had been dismissed uncle-afterward-after she has quarreled with for being too intimate. Right or wrong, the you and grown tired of you! Eh! being in Duke was jealous of all young men who apLondon once, she had the idea to make herself a proached the Duchesse. "He is suspicious," Quakre; wore the costume, consulted a minister Madame de Florac indignantly said, “because of that culte, and quarreled with him as of rule. he remembers: and he thinks other men are like It appears the Quakers do not beat themselves, himself." The Vicomte discreetly said, "My otherwise my poor uncle must have payed of his cousin has paid me the compliment to be jealous of me," and acquiesced in his banishment with a shrug.

one.

person.

"The turn of the philosophers then came, the chemists, the natural historians, what know I? During the emigration the old Lord Kew had She made a laboratory in her hotel, and rehearsed been very kind to exiles; M. d'Ivry among the poisons like Madame de Brinvilliers-she spent number; and that nobleman was anxious to hours in the Jardin des Plantes. Since she has return to all Lord Kew's family when they came grown affreusement maigre and wears mounting to France the hospitality which he had received robes, she has taken more than ever to the idea himself in England. He still remembered, or that she resembles Mary Queen of Scots. She professed to remember, Lady Kew's beauty. How wears a little frill and a little cap. Every man many women are there, awful of aspect, at presshe loves she says has come to misfortune. She ent, of whom the same pleasing legend is not calls her lodgings Lochleven. Eh! I pity the narrated? It must be true, for do not they themlandlord of Lochleven! She calls ce gros Black-selves confess it? I know of few things more ball vous savez, that pillar of estaminets, that remarkable or suggestive of philosophic contemprince of mauvais-ton, her Bothwell; little Mi-plation than those physical changes. When the jaud, the poor little pianist, she named her Rizzio; young Lord Greenhorn, who was here with his Governor, a Monsieur of Oxfort, she christened her Darnley, and the Minister Anglican, her John Knox! The poor man was quite enchanted! Beware of this haggard Syren, my little Clive! -mistrust her dangerous song! Her cave is jonchée with the bones of her victims. Be you

not one!"

Far from causing Clive to avoid Madame la Duchesse, these cautions very likely would have

old Duke and the old Countess met together and talked confidentially, their conversation bloomed into a jargon wonderful to hear. Old scandals woke up, old naughtinesses rose out of their graves, and danced, and smirked, and gibbered again, like those wicked nuns whom Bertram and Robert de Diable evoke from their sepulchres while the bassoon performs a diabolical incantation. The Brighton Pavilion was tenanted; Ranelagh and the Pantheon swarmed with dancers and masks; Perdita was found again, and

walked a minuet with the Prince of Wales. Mrs. | minds, good-natured people! Let us disdain

tion of our schoolfellow, an attorney's son whom | And the three spectators were touched by this I recollected a sniveling little boy at Grey Friars. little scene and speech. "I say, Newcome, the princess is going to establish an order," cried Bob in ecstasy. Every one of her aids-de-camp had a bunch of orders at his button, excepting, of course, poor Jones.

Barnes whirls a partner round a room ages after she is ready to faint. What wicked fun he makes of other people when he stops! He is not handsome, but in his face there is something odd-looking and distinguished. It is certain he has beautiful small feet and hands.

He comes every day from the city, drops in, in his quiet unobtrusive way, and drinks tea at five o'clock; always brings a budget of the funniest stories with him, makes mamma laugh, Clara laugh, Henrietta, who is in the school-room still, die of laughing. Papa has the highest opinion of Mr. Newcome as a man of business: if he had had such a friend in early life his affairs would not be where they now are, poor dear kind papa! Do they want to go any where, is not Mr. Newcome always ready? Did he not procure that de

good-naturedly; but at this time, and for some years after, she was impatient of common-place people, and did not choose to conceal her scorn. Lady Clara was very much afraid of her. Those timid little thoughts, which would come out, and frisk and gambol with pretty graceful antics, and advance confidingly at the sound of Jack Belsize's jolly voice, and nibble crumbs out of his hand, shrank away before Ethel, severe nymph with the bright eyes, and hid themselves under the thickets and in the shade. Who has not overheard a simple couple of girls, or of lovers possibly, pouring out their little hearts, laughing at their own little jokes, prattling and prattling away unceasingly, until mamma appears with her awful didactic countenance, or the governess with her dry moralities, and the colloquy straightway ceases, the laughter stops, the chirp of the harmless lit-lightful room for them to witness the Lord Mayor's tle birds is hushed. Lady Clara being of a timid nature, stood in as much awe of Ethel as of her father and mother; whereas her next sister, a brisk young creature of seventeen, who was of the order of romps or tomboys, was by no means afraid of Miss Newcome, and indeed a much greater favorite with her than her placid elder sister.

Young ladies may have been crossed in love, and have had their sufferings, their frantic moments of grief and tears, their wakeful nights, and so forth; but it is only in very sentimental novels that people occupy themselves perpetually with that passion: and, I believe, what are called broken hearts, are very rare articles indeed. Tom is jilted-is for a while in a dreadful state-bores all his male acquaintance with his groans and his frenzy-rallies from the complaint-eats his dinner very kindly takes an interest in the next turf event, and is found at Newmarket, as usual, bawling out the odds which he will give or take. Miss has her paroxysm and recovery-Madame Crinoline's new importations from Paris interest the young creature-she deigns to consider whether pink or blue will become her most-she conspires with her maid to make the spring morning dresses answer for the autumn-she resumes her books, piano, and music (giving up certain songs perhaps that she used to sing)—she waltzes with the Captain-gets a color-waltzes longer, better, and ten times quicker than Lucy, who is dancing with the Major-replies in an animated manner to the Captain's delightful remarks-takes a little supper and looks quite kindly at him before she pulls up the carriage windows.

:

show; and make Clara die of laughing at those odd city people at the Mansion House ball? He is at every party, and never tired though he gets up so early: he waltzes with nobody else: he is always there to put Lady Clara in the carriage: at the drawing-room he looked quite handsome in his uniform of the Newcome Hussars, bottle-green and silver lace he speaks politics so exceedingly well with papa and gentlemen after dinner: he is a sound conservative, full of practical good sense and information, with no dangerous newfangled ideas, such as young men have. When poor dear Sir Bryan Newcome's health gives way quite, Mr. Newcome will go into parliament, and then he will resume the old barony which has been in abeyance in the family since the reign of Richard the Third. They had fallen quite, quite low. Mr. Newcome's grandfather came to London with a satchel on his back, like Whittington. Isn't it romantic?

This process has been going on for months. It is not in one day that poor Lady Clara has been made to forget the past, and to lay aside her mourning. Day after day, very likely, the undeniable faults and many piccadilloes of-of that other person, have been exposed to her. People around the young lady may desire to spare her feelings, but can have no interest in screening poor Jack from condign reprobation. A wild prodigal-a disgrace to his order-a son of old Highgate's leading such a life, and making such a scandal! Lord Dorking believes Mr. Belsize to be an abandoned monster and fiend in human shape; gathers and relates all the stories that ever have been told to the young man's disadvantage, and of these be sure there are enough, and speaks of him with transports of indignation. At the end of months of unwearied courtship, Mr. Barnes Newcome is honestly accepted, and Lady Clara is waiting for him at Baden, not unhappy to receive him; when walking on the promenade with her father, the ghost of her dead love suddenly rises before her, and the young lady faints to the ground.

Clive may not like his cousin Barnes Newcome, and many other men share in that antipathy, but all ladies do not. It is a fact, that Barnes, when he likes, can make himself a very pleasant fellow. He is dreadfully satirical, that is certain; but many persons are amused by those dreadful satirical young men and to hear fun made of our neighbors, even of some of our friends, does not make us very angry. Barnes is one of the very best waltzers in all society, that is the truth; When Barnes Newcome thinks fit he can be whereas it must be confessed Some One Else was perfectly placable in his demeanor and delicate very heavy and slow, his great foot always crush-in his conduct. What he said upon this painful ing you, and he always begging your pardon. subject was delivered with the greatest propriety.

You have known him since he was a child; and—and—we are sorry to be obliged to part in this way." In this wise Mr. Jack Belsize's tooth was finally extracted; and for the moment we wish him and his brother patient a

He did not for one moment consider that Lady | Clara, shake hands with Captain Belsize. My Clara's agitation arose from any present feeling Lady Dorking, you will please to give Charles in Mr. Belsize's favor, but that she was naturally your hand. moved by the remembrance of the past, and the sudden appearance which recalled it. "And but that a lady's name should never be made the subject of dispute between men," Newcome said to Lord Dorking, with great dignity," and that Cap-good journey. tain Belsize has opportunely quitted the place, I should certainly have chastised him. He and another adventurer, against whom I have had to warn my own family, have quitted Baden this afternoon. I am glad that both are gone, Captain Belsize especially; for my temper, my lord, is hot, and I do not think I should have command-ever engaged to Captain Belsize? Fiddle-deeed it."

Lord Kew, when the elder lord informed him of this admirable speech of Barnes Newcome's, upon whose character, prudence, and dignity the Earl of Dorking pronounced a fervent eulogium, shook his head gravely, and said, "Yes, Barnes was a dead shot, and a most determined fellow :" and did not burst out laughing until he and Lord Dorking had parted. Then to be sure he took his fill of laughter: he told the story to Ethel; he complimented Barnes on his heroic self-denial; the joke of the thundering big stick was nothing to it. Barnes Newcome laughed too; he had plenty of humor, Barnes. "I think you might have whopped Jack when he came out from his interview with the Dorkings," Kew said: "the poor devil was so bewildered and weak, that Alfred might have thrashed him. At other times you would find it more difficult, Barnes, my man." Mr. B. Newcome resumed his dignity; said a joke was a joke, and there was quite enough of this one; which assertion we may be sure he conscientiously made.

Little lynx-eyed Dr. Von Finck, who attends most of the polite company at Baden, drove ceaselessly about the place that day, with the real version of the fainting-fit story, about which we may be sure the wicked and malicious, and the uninitiated, had a hundred absurd details. Lady Clara

dee! Every body knew the Captain's affairs, and that he could no more think of marrying than flying. Lady Clara faint at seeing him! she fainted before he came up; she was always fainting, and had done so thrice in the last week, to his knowledge. Lord Dorking had a nervous affection of his right arm, and was always shaking his stick. He did not say Villain, he said William; Captain Belsize's name is William. It is not so in the peerage? Is he called Jack in the peerage? Those peerages are always wrong. These candid explanations of course had their effect. Wicked tongues were of course instantaneously silent. People were entirely satisfied; they always are. The next night being assembly night, Lady Clara appeared at the rooms, and danced with Lord Kew and Mr. Barnes Newcome. All the society was as gracious and good-humored as possible, and there was no more question of fainting, than of burning down the Conversation-house. But Madame de Cruchecassée, and Madame de Schlangenbad, and those horrid people whom the men speak to, but whom the women salute with silent

no prude like an English prude; and to Dr. Finck's oaths, assertions, explanations, only replied, with a shrug of their bold shoulders, "Taisez vous, Docteur, vous n'ete qu'une vieille bête."

That meeting and parting between the old lov-courtesies, persisted in declaring that there was ers passed with a great deal of calm and propriety on both sides. Miss's parents of course were present when Jack at their summons waited upon them and their daughter, and made his hang-dog bow. My Lord Dorking said (poor Jack in the anguish of his heart had poured out the story to Clive Newcome afterward), "Mr. Belsize, I have to apologize for words which I used in my heat yesterday, and which I recall and regret, as I am sure you do that there should have been any occasion for them."

Lady Kew was at the rooms, uncommonly gracious. Miss Ethel took a few turns of the waltz with Lord Kew, but this nymph looked more farouche than upon ordinary days. Bob Jones, who admired her hugely, asked leave to waltz with her, and entertained her with recollections of Clive Newcome at school. He remembered a fight in

Mr. Belsize, looking at the carpet, said he was which Clive had been engaged, and recounted that very sorry. action to Miss Newcome, who seemed to be interLady Dorking here remarked, "that as Cap-ested. He was pleased to deplore Clive's fancy tain Belsize was now at Baden, he might wish for turning artist, and that Miss Newcome recomto hear from Lady Clara Pulleyn's own lips that the engagement into which she had entered was formed by herself, certainly with the consent and advice of her family. Is it not so, my dear?" Lady Clara said, "Yes, mamma," with a low courtesy.

"We have now to wish you good-by, Charles Belsize," said my lord, with some feeling. "As your relative, and your father's old friend, I wish you well. I hope your future course in life may not be so unfortunate as the past year. I request that we may part friends. Good-by, Charles.

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mended him to have his likeness taken, for she said his appearance was exceedingly picturesque. He was going on with further prattle, but she suddenly cut Mr. Jones short, making him a bow, and going to sit down by Lady Kew. . And the next day, Sir," said Bob, with whom the present writer had the happiness of dining at a mess dinner at the Upper Temple, "when I met her on the walk, Sir, she cut me as dead as a stone. The airs those swells give themselves is enough to make any man turn republican."

Miss Ethel indeed was haughty, very haughty,