ARTHUR PENDENNIS, ESQ., TO CLIVE NEW- "Pall Mall Gazette, Journal of Politics, lips two evenings since; not indeed for the first time in my life, but never from such a pretty lit tle singer. Though both ladies speak our lan guage with something of the tone usually employed by the inhabitants of the northern part of Britain, their accent is exceedingly pleasant, and indeed by no means so strong as Mr. Binnie's own; for Captain Mackenzie was an Englishman, for whose sake his lady modified her native Mus selburgh pronunciation. She tells many inter esting anecdotes of him, of the West Indies, and of the distinguished regiment of Infantry to which the captain belonged. Miss Rosa is a great fa vorite with her uncle, and I have had the good fortune to make their stay in the metropolis more pleasant, by sending them orders, from the Pall Mall Gazette, for the theatres, panoramas, and the principal sights in town. For pictures they do not seem to care much; they thought the National Gallery a dreary exhibition, and in the Royal Academy could be got to admire nothing but the picture of McCollop of McCollop, by our friend of the like name, but they think Madame Tussaud's interesting exhibition of wax-work the most delightful in London; and there I had the happiness of introducing them to our friend Mr. Frederick Bayham; who, subsequently, on com ing to this office with his valuable contributions on the Fine Arts, made particular inquiries as to their pecuniary means, and expressed himself instantly ready to bestow his hand upon the mother or daughter, provided old Mr. Binnie would make a satisfactory settlement. I got the ladies a box at the opera, whither they were attended by Captain Goby of their regiment, godfather to Miss, and where I had the honor of paying them a visit. I saw your fair young cousin, Miss Newcome, in the lobby with her grand-mamma, Lady Kew. Mr. Bayham with great eloquence pointed out to the Scotch ladies the various distinguished characters in the house. The opera delighted them; but they were astounded at the ballet, from which mother and daughter retreated in the midst of a fire of pleasantries of Captain Goby. I can fancy that off "I have been to Fitzroy Square; both to the stables and the house. The Houyhnhm's legs are very well; the horse slipped on his side and not on his knees, and has received no sort of injury. Not so Mr. Binnie, his ancle is much wrenched and inflamed. He must keep his sofa for many days, perhaps weeks. But you know he is a very cheerful philosopher, and endures the evils of life with much equanimity. His sister has come to him. I don't know whether that may be considered as a consolation of his evil or an aggravation of it. You know he uses the sarcastic method in his talk, and it was difficult to understand from him whether he was pleased or bored by the embraces of his relative. She was an infant when he last beheld her, on his departure to India. She is now (to speak with respect) a very brisk, plump, pretty little widow; having, seemingly, recovered from her grief at the death of her husband, Captain Mackenzie, in the West Indies. Mr. Binnie was just on the point of visiting his relatives who reside at Mus-cer at mess, and how brilliant his anecdotes must selburgh, near Edinburgh, when he met with the fatal accident which prevented his visit to his native shores. His account of his misfortune and his lonely condition was so pathetic that Mrs. Mackenzie and her daughter put themselves into the Edinburgh steamer, and rushed to console his sofa. They occupy your bedroom and sitting-room, which latter Mrs. Mackenzie says no longer smells of tobacco smoke, as it did when "617. "Moses bringing Home the Gross of she took possession of your den. If you have green Spectacles." Smith, R.A.-Perhaps poor left any papers about, any bills, any billets-doux, Goldsmith's exquisite little work has never been so I make no doubt the ladies have read every single great a favorite as in the present age. We have one of them, according to the amiable habits of here, in a work by one of our most eminent arttheir sex. The daughter is a bright little blue-ists, a homage to the genius of him “who touched eyed fair-haired lass, with a very sweet voice, in nothing which he did not adorn:" and the charmwhich she sings (unaided by instrumental music, ing subject is handled in the most delicious manand seated on a chair in the middle of the room) ner by Mr. Smith. The chiaroscuro is admira the artless ballads of her native country. I had ble: the impasto is perfect. Perhaps a very the pleasure of hearing the Bonnets of Bonny captious critic might object to the foreshortening Dundee,' and 'Jack of Hazeldean,' from her ruby of Moses's left leg; but where there is so much be when the company of ladies does not restrain his genial flow of humor. "Here comes Mr. Baker with the proofs. In case you don't see the P. G. at Galignani's, I send you an extract from Bayham's article on the Royal Academy, where you will have the benefit of his opinion on the works of some of your friends: to praise justly, the Pall-Mall Gazette does not | Where is that admirable painter? We miss his care to condemn. bold canvases and grand historic outline.' "I shall alter a few inaccuracies in the composition of our friend F. B., who has, as he says, drawn it uncommonly mild in the above criti cism.' In fact, two days since, he brought in an article of quite a different tendency, of which he retains only the two last paragraphs; but he has, with great magnanimity, recalled his previous observations; and, indeed, he knows as much about "420. Our (and the public's) favorite, Brown, R.A., treats us to a subject from the best of all stories, the tale "which laughed Spain's chivalry away," the ever-new Don Quixote. The incident which Brown has selected is the "Don's Attack on the Flock of Sheep;" the sheep are in Brown's best manner, painted with all his wellInown facility and brio. Mr. Brown's friendly rival, Hopkins, has selected Gil Blas for an illus-pictures as some critics I could name. tration this year; and the "Robber's Cavern" is "Good-by, my dear Clive! I send my kindone of the most masterly of Hopkins's produc-est regards to your father; and think you had tions. best see as little as possible of your bouillotte"Great Rooms. 33. "Portrait of Cardinal playing French friend and his friends. This adCospetto." O'Gogstay, A.R.A.; and "Neigh-vice I know you will follow, as young men al borhood of Corpodibacco-Evening-a Contadina ways follow the advice of their seniors and welland a Trasteverino dancing at the door of a Lo-wishers. I dine in Fitzroy Square to-day with canda to the music of a Pifferaro."-Since his the pretty widow and her daughter, and am, yours visit to Italy Mr. O'Gogstay seems to have given always, dear Clive, up the scenes of Irish humor with which he used to delight us; and the romance, the poetry, the religion of "Italia la bella" form the subjects of his pencil. The scene near Corpodibacco (we know the spot well, and have spent many a happy month in its romantic mountains) is most characteristic. Cardinal Cospetto, we must say, is a most truculent prelate, and not certainly an ornament to his church. 49, 210, 311. Smee, R.A.-Portraits which a Reynolds might be proud of; a Vandyke or Claude might not disown. "Sir Brian Newcome, in the costume of a Deputy-Lieutenant." "Major-General Sir Thomas de Boots, K.C.B.," painted for the 50th Dragoons, are triumphs, indeed, of this noble painter. Why have we no picture of the sovereign and her august consort from Smee's brush? When Charles II. picked up Titian's mahl-stick, he observed to a courtier, "A king you can always have; a genius comes but rarely." While we have a Smee among us, and a monarch whom we admire, may the one be employed to transmit to posterity the beloved features of the other! We know our lucubrations are read in high places, and respectfully insinuate verbum sapienti. 1906. "The M'Collop of M'Collop,"-A. M-Collop, is a noble work of a young artist, who, in depicting the gallant chief of a hardy Scottish clan, has also represented a romantic Highland landscape, in the midst of which, "his foot upon his native heath," stands a man of splendid symmetrical figure and great facial advantages. We shall keep our eye on Mr. M'Collop. "1367. "Oberon and Titania." Ridley.This sweet and fanciful little picture draws crowds round about it, and is one of the most charming and delightful works of the present exhibition. We echo the universal opinion in declaring that it shows not only the greatest promise, but the most delicate and beautiful performance. The Earl of Kew, we understand, bought the picture at the private view; and we congratulate the young painter heartily upon his successful début. He is, we understand, a pupil of Mr. Gandish. CHAPTER XXIII. A. P." IN WHICH WE HEAR A SOPRANO AND A CONTRALTO THE most hospitable and polite of Colonels would not hear of Mrs. Mackenzie and her daughter quitting his house when he returned to it, after six weeks' pleasant sojourn in Paris; nor, indeed, did his fair guest show the least anxiety or intention to go away. Mrs. Mackenzie had a fine merry humor of her own. She was an old soldier's wife, she said, and knew when her quarters were good; and I suppose, since her honeymoon, when the captain took her to Harrogate and Cheltenham, stopping at the first hotels, and traveling in a chaise and pair the whole way, she had never been so well off as in that roomy mansion near Tottenham Court Road. Of her mother's house at Musselburgh she gave a ludicrous but dismal account. "Eh, James," she said, "I think if you had come to mamma, as you threatened, you would not have staid very long. It's a wearisome place Dr. M Craw boards with her; and it's sermons and psalm-singing from morning till night. My little Josey takes kindly to the life there, and I left her behind, poor little darling! It was not fair to bring three of us to take possession of your house, dear James; but my poor little Rosey was just withering away there. It's good for the dear child to see the world a little, and a kind uncle, who is not afraid of us now he sees us, is he??? Kind Uncle James was not at all afraid of little | when she was away. It was Mrs. Irons' belief Rosey, whose pretty face and modest manners, and sweet songs, and blue eyes, cheered and soothed the old bachelor. Nor was Rosey's mother less agreeable and pleasant. She had married the captain (it was a love-match, against the will of her parents, who had destined her to be the third wife of old Dr. M'Mull) when very young. Many sorrows she had had, including poverty, the captain's imprisonment for debt, and his demise; but she was of a gay and lightsome spirit. She was but three-and-thirty years old, and looked five-and-twenty. She was active, brisk, jovial, and alert; and so good-looking, that it was a wonder she had not taken a successor to Captain Mackenzie. James Binnie cautioned his friend the Colonel against the attractions of the buxom syren; and laughingly would ask Clive how he would like Mrs. Mackenzie for a mamaw? that Mrs. Mackenzie never intended to go away. She had no ideer of ladies, as were ladies, coming into her kitchen. The maids vowed that they heard Miss Rosa crying, and mamma scolding in her bedroom, for all she was so softspoken. How was that jug broke, and that chair smashed in the bedroom, that day there was such a awful row up there? Mrs. Mackenzie played admirably, in the oldfashioned way, dances, reels, and Scotch and Irish tunes, the former of which filled James Binnie's soul with delectation. The good mother naturally desired that her darling should have a few good lessons of the piano while she was in London. Rosey was eternally strumming upon an instrument which had been taken up stairs for her special practice; and the Colonel, who was always seeking to dò harmless jobs of kindness for his friends, bethought him of little Miss Cann, the governess at Ridley's, whom he recommended as an instructress." Any body whom you recom mend I'm sure, dear Colonel, we shall like," said Mrs. Mackenzie, who looked as black as thunder, and had probably intended to have Monsieur little governess came to her pupil. Mrs. Mackenzie treated her very gruffly and haughtily at first; but as soon as she heard Miss Cann play, the widow was pacified, nay charmed. Monsieur Quatremains charged a guinea for three quarters of an hour; while Miss Cann thankfully took five shillings for an hour and a half; and the difference of twenty lessons, for which dear Uncle James paid, went into Mrs. Mackenzie's pocket, and thence probably on to her pretty shoulders and head in the shape of a fine silk dress and a beautiful French bonnet, in which Captain Goby said, upon his life, she didn't look twenty. Colonel Newcome felt himself very much at ease regarding his future prospects. He was very glad that his friend James was reconciled to his family, and hinted to Clive that the late Captain Mackenzie's extravagance had been the cause of the rupture between him and his brother-in-Quatremains or Signor Twankeydillo; and the law, who had helped that prodigal captain repeatedly during his life; and in spite of family quarrels, had never ceased to act generously to his widowed sister and her family. "But I think, Mr. Clive," said he, "that as Miss Rosa is very pretty, and you have a spare room at your studio, you had best take up your quarters in Charlotte Street as long as the ladies are living with us." Clive was nothing loth to be independent; but he showed himself to be a very good home-loving youth. He walked home to breakfast every morning, dined often, and spent the evenings with the family. Indeed, the house was a great deal more cheerful for the presence of the two pleasant ladies. Nothing could be prettier than to see the two ladies tripping down stairs together, mamma's pretty arm round Rosey's pretty waist. Mamma's talk was perpetually of Rosey. That child was always gay, always good, always happy! That darling girl woke with a smile on her face-it was sweet to see her! Uncle James, in his dry way, said, he dared to say it was very pretty. "Go away, you droll, dear old kind Uncle James!" Rosey's mamma would cry out. You old bachelors are wicked old things!" Uncle James used to kiss Rosey very kindly and pleasantly. She was as modest, as gentle, as eager to please Colonel Newcome as any little girl could be. It was pretty to see her tripping across the room with his coffee-cup; or peeling walnuts for him after dinner with her white, plump little fingers. Mrs. Irons, the housekeeper, naturally detested Mrs. Mackenzie, and was jealous of her: though the latter did every thing to soothe and coax the governess of the two gentlemen's establishment. She praised her dinners, delighted in her puddings, must beg Mrs. Irons to allow her to see one of those delicious puddings made, and to write the receipt for her, that Mrs. Mackenzie might use it The little governess trotting home after her lesson would often look into Clive's studio in Charlotte Street, where her two boys, as she called Clive and J. J., were at work each at his easel. Clive used to laugh, and tell us who joked him about the widow and her daughter, what Miss Cann said about them. Mrs. Mack was not all honey it appeared. If Rosey played incorrectly, mamma flew at her with prodigious vehemence of language; and sometimes with a slap on poor Rosey's back. She must make Rosey wear tight boots, and stamp on her little feet if they refused to enter into the slipper. I blush for the indiscretion of Miss Cann; but she actually told J. J., that mamma insisted upon lacing her so tight, as nearly to choke the poor little lass. Rosey did not fight: Rosey always yielded; and the scolding over and the tears dried, would come simpering down stairs with mamma's arm round her waist, and her pretty, artless, happy smile for the gentlemen below. Besides the Scottish songs without music, she sang ballads at the piano very sweetly. Mamma used to cry at these ditties. That child's voice brings tears into my eyes, Mr. Newcome," she would say. "She has never known a moment's sorrow yet! Heaven grant, Heaven grant, she may be happy! But what shall I be when I lose her?" Why, my dear, when you lose Rosey, ye'll | third Dragoon Guards a part of the time; Fipley console yourself with Josey," says droll Mr. commanded them, and a very jolly time we had. Binnie from the sofa, who perhaps saw the ma- Much better than the West Indies, where a felnœuvre of the widow. low's liver goes to the deuce with hot pickles and sangaree. Mackenzie was a dev'lish wild fellow," whispers Captain Goby to his neighbor (the present biographer indeed), "and Mrs. Mack was was as pretty a little woman as ever you set eyes' on." (Captain Goby winks, and looks peculiarly sly as he makes this statement.) Our regiment The widow laughs heartily and really. She places a handkerchief over her mouth. She glances at her brother with a pair of eyes full of knowing mischief. "Ah, dear James," she says, "you don't know what it is to have a mother's feelings. 66 wasn't on your side of India, Colonel." And in the interchange of such delightful remarks, and with music and song the evening passes away. "Since the house had been adorned by the fair presence of Mrs. Mackenzie and her daughter," Honeyman said, always gallant in behavior and flowery in expression, "it seemed as if spring had visited it. Its hospitality was invested with a new grace; its ever welcome little réunions were doubly charming. But why did did these ladies come, if they were to go away again? How-how would Mr. Binnie console himself (not to mention others), if they left him in solitude ?" 66 We have no wish to leave my brother James in solitude," eries Mrs. Mackenzie, frankly laughing. "We like London a great deal better than Musselburgh." "O, that we do!" ejaculates the blushing Rosey. "And we will stay as long as ever my brother will keep us," continues the widow. "I can partly understand them," says James. Rosey, sing me that pretty little French song." Mrs. Mackenzie's attention to Clive was really quite affecting. If any of his friends came to the house, she took them aside and praised Clive to them. The Colonel she adored. She had never met with such a man or seen such a manner. The manners of the Bishop of Tobago were beautiful, and he certainly had one of the softest and finest hands in the world; but not finer than Colonel Newcome's. "Look at his foot!" (and she put out her own, which was uncommonly pretty, and suddenly withdrew it, with an arch glance meant to represent a blush) "my shoe would fit it! When we were at Coventry Island, Sir Peregrine Blandy, who succeeded poor dear Sir Rawdon Crawley-I saw his dear boy was gazetted to a lieutenant-colonelcy in the Guards last week-Sir Peregrine, who was one of the Prince of Wales's most intimate friends, was always said to have the finest manner and presence of any man of his day; and very grand and noble he was, but I don't think he was equal to Colonel Newcome; I really don't think so. Do you think so, Mr. Honeyman? What a charming discourse that was last Sunday! I know there were two pair of eyes not dry in the church. I could not see the other people just for crying myself. O, but I wish we could have you at Musselburgh! Iceived their caresses very good-humoredly. The was bred a Presbyterian of course; but in much traveling through the world with my dear husband, I came to love his church. At home we sit under Dr. McCraw, of course; but he is so awfully long! Four hours every Sunday at least, morning and afternoon! It nearly kills poor Rosey. Did you hear her voice at your church? The dear girl is delighted with the chants. Rosey, were you not delighted with the chants?" If she is delighted with the chants, Honeymana pert little obtrusive, under-bred creature. is delighted with the chantress and her mamma. He dashes the fair hair from his brow: he sits down to the piano, and plays one or two of them, warbling a faint vocal accompaniment, and looking as if he would be lifted off the screw musicstool, and flutter up to the ceiling. "Uncle James is so kind and dear," says Rosey. "I hope he won't send me and mamma away.' He were a brute-a savage, if he did!" cries Binnie, with glances of rapture toward the two pretty faces. Every body liked them. Binnie re Colonel liked every woman under the sun. Clive laughed, and joked, and waltzed, alternately with Rosey and her mamma. The latter was the briskest partner of the two. The unsuspicious widow, poor dear innocent, would leave her girl at the painting-room, and go shopping herself; but little J. J. also worked there, being occupied with his second picture: and he was almost the only one of Clive's friends whom the widow did not like. She pronounced the quiet little painter In a word, Mrs. Mackenzie was, as the phrase is, " setting her cap" so openly at Clive, that none of us could avoid seeing her play and Clive laughed at her simple manœuvres as merrily as the rest. She was a merry little woman. We gave her and her pretty daughter a luncheon in "O, it's just seraphic !" says the widow. “It's Lamb Court, Temple; in Sibwright's chambersjust the breath of incense, and the pealing of the luncheon from Dick's Coffee House-ices and organ at the Cathedral at Montreal. She was a dessert from Partington's in the Strand. Miss wee wee child. She was born on the voyage out, Rosey, Mr. Sibwright, our neighbor in Lamb and christened at sea. You remember, Goby." Court, and the Rev. Charles Honeyman sang very "Gad, I promised and vowed to teach her her delightfully after lunch; there was quite a crowd catechism; but 'gad, I haven't," says Captain of porters, laundresses, and boys to listen in the Goby. We were between Montreal and Que- Court. Mr. Paley was disgusted with the noise bec for three years with the Hundredth, the Hun- we made-in fact, the party was perfectly sucdred and Twentieth Highlanders, and the Thirty-cessful. We all liked the widow, and if she did set her pretty ribbons at Clive, why should not had differences with Captain Mackenzie, who she? We all liked the pretty, fresh, modest Rosey. Why, even the grave old benchers in the Temple church, when the ladies visited it on Sunday, winked their revered eyes with pleasure, as they looked at those two uncommonly smart, pretty, well-dressed, fashionable women. Ladies, go to the Temple church. You will see more young men, and receive more respectful attention there than in any place, except perhaps at Oxford or Cambridge. Go to the Temple church-not, of course, for the admiration which you will excite and which you can not help; but because the sermon is excellent, the choral services beautifully performed, and the church so interesting as a monument of the thirteenth century, and as it contains the tombs of those dear Knights Templars! Mrs. Mackenzie could be grave or gay, according to her company nor could any woman be of more edifying behavior when an occasional Scottish friend, bringing a letter from darling Josey, or a recommendatory letter from Josey's grandmother, paid a visit in Fitzroy Square. Little Miss Cann used to laugh and wink knowingly, saying, "You will never get back your bedroom, Mr. Clive. You may be sure that Miss Josey will come in a few months; and perhaps old Mrs. Binnie, only no doubt she and her daughter do not agree. But the widow has taken possession of Uncle James; and she will carry off somebody else if I am not mistaken. Should you like a stepmother, Mr. Clive, or should you prefer a wife?" was headstrong and imprudent, and I own my poor dear husband was in the wrong. James could not live with my poor mother. Neither could by possibility suit the other. I have often, I own, longed to come and keep house for him. His home, the society he sees, of men of talents likeMr. Warrington and—and—I won't mention names, or pay compliments to a man who knows human nature so well as the author of 'Walter Lorraine' this house is pleasanter a thousand times than Musselburgh-pleasanter for me and my dearest Rosey, whose delicate nature shrunk and withered up in poor mamma's society. She was never happy except in my room, the dear child! She's all gentleness and affection. She doesn't seem to show it; but she has the most wonderful appreciation of wit, of genius, and talent of all kinds. She always hides her feelings, except from her fond old mother. I went up into our room yesterday, and found her in tears. I can't bear to see her eyes red or to think of her suffering. I asked her what ailed her, and kissed her. She is a tender plant, Mr. Pendennis! Heaven knows with what care I have nurtured her! She looked up smiling on my shoulder. She looked so pretty! O, mamma,' the darling child said, 'I couldn't help it. I have been crying over "Walter Lorraine !"' (Enter Rosey.) Rosey, darling! I have been telling Mr. Pendennis what a naughty, naughty child you were yesterday, and how you read a book which I told you you shouldn't read; for it is a very wicked book; and though it contains some sad, sad truths, it is a great deal too misanthropic (is that the right word? I'm a poor soldier's wife, and no scholar, you know), and a great deal too bitter; and though the Reviews praise it, and the clever people-we are poor simple country people-we won't praise it. Sing, dearest, that little song" (profuse kisses to Rosey) that pretty thing that Mr. Pendennis likes." "I am sure that I will sing any thing that Mr. Pendennis likes," says Rosey, with her candid bright eyes; and she goes to the piano and warbles Batti, Batti, with her sweet fresh artless voice. Whether the fair lady tried her wiles upon Colonel Newcome the present writer has no certain means of ascertaining: but I think another image occupied his heart ; and this Circe tempted him no more than a score of other enchantresses who had tried their spells upon him. If she tried she failed. She was a very shrewd woman, quite frank in her talk when such frankness suited her. She said to me, "Colonel Newcome has had some great passion, once upon a time, I am sure of that, and has no more heart to give away. The woman who had his must have been a very lucky woman: though I dare say she did not value what she had; or did not live to enjoy it-or-or something or other. You see More caresses follow. Mamma is in a rapture. tragedies in some people's faces. I recollect How pretty they look-the mother and daughter when we were in Coventry Island-there was a -two lilies twining together. The necessity of chaplain there a very good man-a Mr. Bell, an entertainment at the Temple-lunch from and married to a pretty little woman who died. Dick's (as before mentioned), dessert from ParThe first day I saw him I said, 'I know that man tington's, Sibwright's spoons, his boy to aid ours has had a great grief in life. I am sure that he-nay, Sib himself, and his rooms, which are so left his heart in England.' You gentlemen who write books, Mr. Pendennis, and stop at the third volume, know very well that the real story often begins afterward. My third volume ended when I was sixteen, and was married to my poor husband. Do you think all our adventures ended then, and that we lived happy ever after? I live for my darling girls now. All I want is to see them comfortable in life. Nothing can be more generous than my dear brother James has been. I am only his half-sister, you know, and was an infant in arms when he went away. He much more elegant than ours, and where there is a piano and guitar: all these thoughts pass in rapid and brilliant combination in the pleasant Mr. Pendennis's mind. How delighted the ladies are with the proposal! Mrs. Mackenzie claps her pretty hands, and kisses Rosey again. If osculation is a mark of love, surely Mrs. Mack is the best of mothers. I may say, without false modesty, that our little entertainment was most successful. The Champagne was iced to a nicety. The ladies did not perceive that our laundress, Mrs. Flanagan, was intoxicated very early |