to explain to a gentleman of his years, has reached my uncle Osborne, with many aggravations. I have told you the whole truth, Sinclair, and I am sure you will trust to my sincerity, and do what you can, if the subject should be mooted to you, to remove any false impression."

"That you may rely on, Faunce; but surely Mr Osborne is not so austere as to make no allowance for youthful follies. Pray what became of Evangeline?"

"She married a railway contractor, who is supposed to have been reared in a barge, but against whose sovereigns I should be sorry to count down my shillings. He is said to be an excellent fellow, with no worse failing than an addiction to gin-andwater. It is supposed that Peel will elevate him to the baronetage, and Evangeline may possibly become the mother of a British peer."

"Well; let us suppose that all obstacles are removed, and your marriage over. What follows next?"

"A box in the neighbourhood of London, where I can receive my friends, who, I assure you, shall be sufficiently select. Not one of the kidney of Jack Fuller or Charley Higgins shall be invited. There I shall have a billiard-room, a nice library and gardens, which Alcinous might envy; though I shall not ruin myself by giving exorbitant prices for exotics. My weakness is for fruit; and I shall grow such nectarines, and plums, and peaches as never were seen before. Melons also, and strawberries, shall be there in profusion, and jargonelles, to gather which Adam would have climbed the outer wall of Paradise. Then I shall rent a moor in Scotland, with salmonfishing adjacent thereto; and if my means will allow, I shall keep a yacht. That is my programme of existence; and I submit that it is artistically conceived."

"It certainly would be difficult to invent one more thoroughly agreeable. All good-luck to you, Attie, and may your wishes be realised! But now let us back to Greenwich. We have had rather an extensive walk, and I begin to experience the pangs that afflicted the ancient Ichthyophagi."

Mr Disraeli, in one of his lively novels, has said that the impression left by a Greenwich repast is simply that you have been dining upon brown bread-and-butter and pink champagne. I deny the charge; for being a fish-eater from my youth upwards-so much so as to expose me to the suspicion that I held the tenets of Romanism-I consider myself qualified to pass an opinion; and I hereby declare that I think Greenwich, making allowance for its situation, is an admirable haunt for the piscivorous. I should lie if I asserted that such banquets approach in excellence those which were whilome set forth by the lamented Mrs Clark of Newhaven; for she was indeed high-priestess of Neptune and Amphitrite, and by some mysterious arrangement with the Oceanides, drew tithes of their choicest produce. Mirific were her fish soups, concocted after a recipe for which a cardinal might have bartered his stockings -magnificent the cod's - head and shoulders which she used to parade,

a

dish which the wise epicure reserves for his solitary feeding, grudging even to the friend of his bosom the choice of the savoury tid-bits. Then the sides of salmon, patterns of beauty and of curd-turbot so rich that it hardly required the rosy assistance of the lobster-and "rumples" of skate, whereon whosoever battened became partaker of a second youth! Yet, after a fashion, Greenwich does well; for although a highly-educated palate may be indifferent to the water-sootje and the flounders, the eels are entitled to laudation, and whitebait is a delicacy fit, if not for the gods, at least for Cabinet ministers at the end of a laborious session. There is also a kind of punch vended there which is exceedingly nectarious; so that it is a sin to grumble when so many good things are provided for our especial refection on a holiday.

Attie and I brought to the banquet the invaluable adjunct of a good appetite; nor was it until we had appeased the sacred rage of hunger that we took a deliberate survey of the guests. They were of all sorts, nations, and kindred; merging their differences in the common enjoy.

ment of what the virtuous Epicurean philosopher has designated as the sole important event of the day. Attie, who was my Asmodeus, began as usual to prattle, and commenced a series of anecdotes respecting the lives and conversation of those around, with the history of some of whom he seemed intimately acquainted.

"You see that stout, thickset, middle-aged man yonder, at a table by himself, with two decanters before him, already half-empty? Observe how attentive the waiter is,and how he keeps supplying him with whitebait! That, sir, is no ordinary character. He is a first-class parliamentary orator, though he rarely delivers more than one speech in the session-a writer who, for brilliancy and 'point, is thought to be unrivalled-a man who in general society takes the lion's share of the conversation; indeed, is perfectly wretched if any other tongue wags except his own. He is now paying the penalty for his supremacy in speech. Your grand talkers have no intimates. I do not believe that eminent individual ever enjoyed the luxury of a tête-à-tête with a right good hearty fellow, laughed at his jokes, and reciprocally passed the bottle. To be sure, joking is not his forte. He has stuffed his memory as full of historical facts as are the pockets of a boy with nuts in the autumn, and he is always throwing about the shells with an air of consummate wisdom. A great man, doubtless; but I envy not solitary feeder."

"A bad practice, I agree with you; and one likely to produce biliary derangement."

A just observation that, in reference to the present instance. Yonder are two gentlemen eagerly discussing some question over their sherry. What do you take them to be?"

"Projectors of some sort or other, I should imagine, judging from their demeanour and gestures."

"You have hit it. They are projectors, and a curiously-matched pair. The elderly man, with the insufferably-conceited expression of countenance, is a countryman of your own one of the new sect of political

economists, who maintain that mankind must be governed by figures, and that a thorough knowledge of accounts is the highest qualification for a statesman. It was once my lot to meet him at Uncle Osborne's, where he nearly drove the company mad by an interminable dissertation on the theory of rent. He is not, however, so pig-headed as to be oblivious of the main chance; for by dint of grubbing in Blue-books and parliamentary returns, he has concocted, at least so he avers, the scheme for a new tariff, which has found favour in the eyes of our rulers, and procured him an appointment to a suug Government berth. If he were a wise fellow, he would remain contented with his slice of the public pudding; but the evil spirit to whom he has sold himself has possessed him with the notion that nature has designed him to be a lawgiver, and I shall not be at all surprised if he should enter the House of Commons, where he is sure to become a laughing-stock, and finally to be extinguished as a bore."

"And yet, if we may trust to the newspaper reports, bores are rather plentiful in that assembly."

"Why, you see there are gradations in boring as in everything else. People will tolerate a real gentleman even though his prose should be of the most oppressive kind, but they do not extend that measure of indulgence to a bore who at the same time is a presumptuous prig. Besides, the man is as shallow as an oyster-shell. Mark how he keeps hammering away on some statistical topic, whilst his lean lanky companion avails himself of the opportunity to secure a double share of the whitebait! Does he not put you in mind of an enormous pike in the midst of a shoal of minnows?"

"Who and what is he?" "Heaven knows! He calls himself the Chevalier D'Acunha, is a Knight of the Order of St Lazarus, and is accredited to this country as Envoy Extraordinary from some visionary republic near the Equator. Of course he wants a loan either for himself or his constituents, and has a grand project cut and dry for unit

ing the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. He has thoroughly exhausted the patience of the functionaries at the Foreign Office, so the probability is that they have handed him over to their pet Scotch financier, with full powers to conclude a treaty. If it comes to a matter of bargain, I back the foreigner against the Scot. Selfsatisfied conceit is no match for the astuteness of a practised gambler like D'Acunha."

"Why, Attie, you seem to know everybody!

"By no means," said Faunce, "I merely observe the notables. To be sure, there are notables of all kinds. A fellow may make himself sufficiently notorious in this sweet little paradise of London, though he be neither orator, statesman, author, nor millionaire. For example, look at the table towards the window. The sandy-haired youth with the sprouting imperial, who is pouring out the champagne for those two French girls and their black-bearded companion, is in the fair way of achieving notoriety. A more niggardly miser never taxed a tavern bill, or pretended to be without his purse if he thought he could spunge upon a comrade; and yet in the hands of women he is soft as wax, and is known to a certain set by

the endearing appellation of 'The Spoon!' Pretty well that for a young gentleman who has only been some six months about town."

"An uncouth Adonis, certainly! is he city bred !"

"For the credit of St Pancras, I am glad to answer, no. He is from the manufacturing districts, where his father made a little money; not much, I believe, but sufficient to qualify the youth for a London bachelor career. He has lodgings in Golden Square, tempted thereto by the fact that the two alluring damsels whom he is this day treating, Mesdemoiselles Fanchette Poupon and Amenaide Fontanges, minor stars of the ballet, dwell in the same house, along with their austere guardian Herr Munch, who performs on the bassoon in the orchestra. Marry, sir, he has to pay for the privilege of hearing them pirouette on the second floor! Not that I suspect there is anything wrong in that quarter, for both the danseuses are girls of experience, and hold Master Donkin in great contempt, though they vouchsafe now and then to allow him to appear as their escort, and lay him under contribution for suppers. His last real amourette, I am given to understand, was of a somewhat more costly kind; but I have forgotten the details."

Of course I lost no time in communicating to Mr Shearaway the issue of my interview with the respectable head of the firm of Poins and Peto, coupled with such information as would enable him to procure the necessary certificates of my birth. I now awaited his arrival in London with considerable anxiety, for, as I have already said, it was difficult for me, so long as the enigma remained unsolved, to apply myself steadily to my ordinary avocations. I once knew an unfortunate gentleman, who, in an evil hour for himself, became impressed with the conviction that he was heir to an ancient title, to which considerable estates were attached. He was a man of fair average ability, who had creditably worked his way in the world, and

reared a promising family; but from the moment this delusion-for it was nothing more-took possession of his mind, he passed into the downward path of ruin. Not only did he neglect his business, but he exhausted his credit, and incurred frightful responsibilities for the purpose of raising funds to carry on a hopeless suit. One by one his former friends fell away from him, some provoked by his obstinacy, and others scared by the reckless importunity with which he levied contributions. His children, poor things, had imbibed the fatal notion that they belonged to a class exempt from the necessity of labour; and they went about, talking about their pedigree and large possessions as confidently as if the one had been unquestioned and the

other actually realised. At last the bubble burst; the claim was dismissed as untenable: and from that hour nothing more was heard of the luckless aspirant to the peerage. Let us hope that in some corner of the New World he has forgotten his disastrous dream.

I was therefore much gratified, and not a little relieved, by the appearance of Mr Shearaway, who one day burst into my apartment with the energy and vivacity of a boy. Age had not much altered his appearance; for, after a certain period of life, lawyers undergo but little change, being, I suppose, exempted from many of the cares that thin the temples of their clients; and Shearaway had in him much of the nature of an evergreen. Our meeting was truly an affectionate one, for our regard was mutual and sincere. Both of us had much to tell and listen to, and more than one hour elapsed before we touched upon matters of immediate business.

"Well, Norman," said Mr Shearaway at length, "I have got the certificates all right and formally attested; so I think I shall just step down this afternoon and have a talk with your friend Mr Poins. Don't fash yourself by going with me. Some matters are much better discussed by agents than principals; indeed, I make it a general rule to prevent my clients, as much as possible, from interfering in their own affairs. The best of them have little sense. They are always getting into a fuff, and they are a perfect nuisance at consultations. Gudesake, Shearaway!' auld John Clerk used to say to me, 'what gars ye bring your cattle rowting here, man? Hae ye no the sense to tether them in the field, or tie them up in the byre?' Then you never can get them to understand the proper meaning of law terms. I mind as if it were yesterday, the laird of Carterhaugh, who was a fiery body, swearing that he would crop the ears of the agent on the other side for having inserted the words 'falsely and fraudulently' in a Summons of Reduction-improbation, and no power on earth could persuade him that it was the usual form of style. To be sure, Norman, as you

have had the benefit of a regular legal education, it's not to be thought that you would bear yourself otherwise than discreetly; still it will be best for you to keep out the way, for what's the use of having a cook if you have to look after the making of the kail?"

So saying, Mr Shearaway departed, and I sat down to finish a leading article impugning the wisdom of certain new schemes recommended by railway potentates, among others one of unusual magnitude, of which it was supposed that Mr Richard Beaton was the main projector. In fact, speculation had now attained to so alarming a height, that the moneyed interest began to be seriously alarmed for the consequences, and to prepare for the adoption of such measures as, by restricting credit, would more effectually operate as a check to the movement than any legislative enactment whatever. It was indeed high time for the lords of Lombard Street to hold a deliberate monetary congress, for a large section of that independent class of the community who have nothing to lose and everything to gain, had declared themseves against bank restriction in any shape; and, using for their own purpose the popular cry and favourable dogma of the men of Manchester, demanded that there should be free trade and unlimited competition in money as in everything else. Uninfluenced by the traditions of old disaster, they maintained that there was no proper limit to circulation, that bankers ought to have the power of issuing notes unrepresented by any sort of convertible security, and that the control exercised by the State was at once tyrannical and absurd. In short, they wanted to become their own bankers, and to be allowed the privilege of fabricating money or its similitude in the shape of notes; a licence the result of which would undoubtedly have been to involve the whole community in bankruptcy and ruin. Such doctrines were little likely to obtain favour at a period when no violent causes were deranging the ordinary course of trade and commerce; but in the midst of the speculative tempest they appeared in no way unreasonable, and were