glimpses of fashionable parties, without being struck by the nobleness of her air, and sensibility of her countenance. That shyness which intercourse with the world usually wears off, seemed in her case only to increase.—There was always the same struggle of shame, when the curtain of the sanctuary of her mind was ever so slightly uplifted by the cross-questioning of idle talkers. Intelligence streamed from her eyes; yet whenever she could, she refrained from adding more than monosyllables to the conversation of her father.

It was impossible to see a greater contrast than between the poor gentle child in Bruton Street, and the highly-gifted, highly-educated, highly-born, highly-fortuned, only daughter of the proudest and happiest of fathers.-It was as moonlight on the snow, compared with sunshine on some glittering lake. So deceptious are outward shows, more especially as regarding female nature, that it was by no means improbable the still water ran the

refusal of poor Chippenham was operating upon his character.-The boy was desperatereckless,-rushing into dissipations of every kind; and poor Lady Mereworth, who seemed to entertain an idea that Cecil was a centre around which all the roúes of St. James's Street revolved, tacitly appealed to my protection in favour of her son, as the Pagans used to burn propitiatory sacrifices on the altars of the infernal gods. She put him under my wing, as it were, at Crockford's; and implored me (tacitly) not to allow the angels or vampires of Laporte's eighth Heaven to fan him to death with theirs.-Neither she nor her husband seemed to understand that the boy was broken-hearted; that the only way to restore him to the decencies of life, was to heal with tenderest care the wounds of his afflicted soul. I was truly sorry for Mereworth and his wife. To have reared such a son, and for such a result, was indeed afflicting. Nay, I was more angry with Jane for her rejection of poor

Chippenham, than even for her civilities to

Rotherhithe.

One night, as I was driving leisurely home from Connaught Place down Park Lane, I saw Chippenham with a cigar in his mouth, standing between George Hartingfield, and Mitchelston the husband of the Irish beauty, lounging near Dorchester House, till it was time to go to Crockford's; and persuaded Chip, to let me drive him to St. James's Street, by way of gaining some little insight into his habits and proceedings.

"How can you stand the company of such a fellow as Hartingfield, my dear Chip ?". said I" A fellow who can do nothing but laugh, and has nothing to show for his laugh, but a remarkably bad set of teeth."

"I like to hear people merry!"-said the boy, peevishly." It is relief to live with a fellow who takes the trouble of laughing at his own jokes out of one's hands."

'You are not of a time of life to be spared

the trouble of laughing, my dear fellow !" said I.—" Gravity, at your age, is as much out of place as a full-bottomed wig on the little boys in Kneller's family pictures. No man is ever popular, who will not lend his hand to the plaudits of the great audience of the world."

I could feel, as he leant beside me in the cab, an impetuous shrug of the shoulders.

“ Let the people in the dress boxes clap the piece!" cried he. “I shall take my place in the pit. I don't want to be popular.—I hate popular nen !"

"It is true that to be liked by every body is the way to be loved by no one," said I, carelessly, really carelessly, I had no ulterior meaning.—

"How can you say that?"-cried Chippenham, and I was ass enough to imagine that he applied the injurious dictum to myself; as if a boy of one and twenty were likely to concern himself who cared or did not care for

"Which of the Walsinghams?" said I‚— for my Walsingham was as commonly called Frank, as I, Cecil.

"Which?-There is but one, I fancy, whom people trouble their heads about."

"Frank is, I admit, a universal favourite," said I," but if you mean that Lady Mitchelston is attached to him, I am pretty sure she encourages him only as she encourages twenty other danglers."

"If she encouraged all London and half Dublin, it would be no manner of consequence to me!" said Chippenham peevishly. "As to her flirting with Frank Walsingham, it only increases my disgust towards him, that any man favoured as he is, should condescend to enlist in the train of a married woman."

I was glad to hear my young friend so morally disposed; -for, sooth to say, the edition of Holy Writ, for the accidental omission