defence-nothing-we must give him up to the tender mercies of the reader.

To the gamboge ottoman he walked, and having shaken hands with two or three of the young gentlemen standing around, with a "How do, Dalton?"-" How do, Pemberton?" and the like, he seated himself beside Miss Sweetenham, and hoped, in a low voice, that she was perfectly well.

Very well, indeed," she said, putting out her little hand, which Peregrine pressed somewhat harder than he ought to have done, “and better now, that you have come to my assistance-a great deal better, Mr. Pultuney-I have been telling these men that I am going to the fancy ball as Mother Hubbard, and I cannot get one of them to believe me-now, you know very well, for you popped in the other day just as aunt and I were making the nose out of one of Mr. Tressilians' pamphlets; and you know that I have been teaching dear little Carlo to do the dog's part for some days-you can answer for the truth of that, can't you?"

"That I can," returned Peregrine, nothing abashed, "I think it is a great pity though

'Tis true, 'tis pity, pity 'tis, 'tis true

You ought never to wear a mask."

"I am obliged to do so very often," said Miss Sweentenham in an undertone, and she accompanied the saying with a sigh. "There now, Mr.

Dalton. I told you so, you will believe me another time, and will you, Mr. Pemberton?

Old Mother Hubbard

She went to the cupboard.

To get her poor dog a bone:

When she got there

The cupboard was bare,

And so the poor dog had none."

Hereupon the young gentleman laughed, and Miss Sweetenham turned to Peregrine with a look, which said, "What fools they all are to be sure."

"I am afraid though," said Peregrine, who was determined to help the young lady to the utmost→→→ "I am afraid that those shoes, which I saw at your house, are not quite high enough in the heels."

"Don't you think so?" asked Miss Sweetenham, with a look of gratitude, bending her beautiful eyesand they were such eyes, upon Peregrine. "I can have them raised a little; so that my ladyship may be nearer to heaven,' as Hamlet says, by the altitude of a choppine.' Will you take me to my aunt?"

6

"Yes, that I will," said Peregrine, rising and offering his arm to the young lady" but where is Mrs. Sweetenham sitting?"

"I don't know, it does not matter, never mind; the fact is I only wanted to get away from those fribbles do you forgive me for making you leave your seat under false pretences, Mr. Pultuney?"

"That I do, most cordially, most thankfully," said Peregrine.

"I saw the khansamah," continued the lovely girl-for she certainly was most lovely, "coming in to announce dinner, and so I thought it prudent to detach myself from that crowd of inanities. You will not leave me now, I hope, to their mercy, nor be very cross with me for imposing the burden of my society upon you during the whole of dinner time. Be candid and tell me if you are."

"Cross" cried Peregrine, "cross! I am de lighted-"

"Of course you are,-we must stand aside a little, for we are just in the way of the door-"

The white-bearded and rotund khansamah, with the palms of his hand pressed together and his arms extended, had announced dinner in most respectful manner; Mr. Parkinson, as in duty bound, had given his arm to the burra-beebee, who happened to be Lady Tryem, whilst Sir Edward Tryem stood a little in the rear with Mrs. Parkinson leaning on his. Then they moved forward two and two-pair and pair, like the beasts and beastesses going into the ark--Mr. Milton, the member of council, with Mrs. Learnedpig Prince, Mr. Michael Smith, the Sudder Judge, with Mrs. Milton, Mr. Learnedpig Prince, the chief secretary, with Mrs. Jupiter Grand, Mr. Damper, the commissioner, with Mrs. Proteus, and Mr. Proteus, of the Pepper and Poppy Board, with Mrs. Damper, and others of less note following after, the lady of the house going in "promiscuous like" with the rest, and a bevy of bachelors bring

The dinner-room was

ing up the rear. on the ground floor-a spacious apartment very handsomely lighted from above, for Mrs. Parkinson had too much taste to crowd her table with massive branch candelabra, interposing their huge pedestals between her guests and preventing them from seeing across the table, as well as dazzling their eyes with the glare. A few, beautifully chaste alabaster ornaments ran along the middle of the table, and at the centre point was a small opal basin, on a frosted silver pedestal, with roses floating about in the water, and a pair of alabaster doves dipping their little white beaks into it. There was nothing massive or cumbrous on the table; every thing was in excellent taste, and Peregrine could not help wishing as he looked at the tout-ensemble that he had the means of preparing such an establishment for himself and-and-and-Julia-his betrothed. There was a little hitch, it must be acknowledged-just a little, and we have tried to express it by repeating the conjunction. The wish ought to have gushed out more freely than it did-alas! alas! for the constancy of man! Peregrine Pultuney was sore tempted.

Mr. Parkinson having taken the centre seat at one side of the table and Mrs. Parkinson the seat opposite, with the burra-beebee and the burrasahib, both duly located, and the ordinary quantity of scrambling, and finessing, and jockeying, and moving from one side to the other, and chang

ing seats to separate husbands from their wives and prevent ladies from sitting together, having been gone through with all proper formality, the whole party were at last settled, and Peregrine, to his infinite satisfaction, found himself seated between Miss Sweetenham and Mrs. Clay, with nothing very alarming before him in the way of a dish to be carved, and a very comfortable-looking large screen between his back and the door.

"I hope," said Miss Sweetenham, after having dipped her spoon twice in some transparent soup, "that you do not think me very forward and presuming. People say that I am a very strange girl, and what every body says must be right; but I really don't know how it is. They say that my spirits get the better of me; but if they did, I should very often be crying when I am laughing and playing the fool. It is precisely because I do not let my spirits get the better of me, that people say I am so very strange.

"Do people say that?" asked Peregrine; "but all people are strange, who are in any way better than the herd."

"So they are," returned Miss Sweetenham, “not that I pretend to be better than the herd, for I believe that I am in reality much worse-worse, because I ought to be better, know how to be better, and am not-but I don't know why I should talk thus-you must think me very stupid-there, soura legao” (take away), and she pushed aside her plate, pettishly.