'Pray,' says he, on going in, 'ask Miss Kicksey if I may see her for a single moment.' And down comes Miss Kicksey, quite

smiling, and happy to see him.

'Law, Mr. Deuceace!' says she, trying to blush as hard as ever she could, 'you quite surprise me! I don't know whether I ought, really, being alone, to admit a gentleman.'

'Nay, don't say so, dear Miss Kicksey! for, do you know, I came here for a double purpose-to ask about a pocket-book which I have lost, and may, perhaps, have left here; and then, to ask if you will have the great goodness to pity a solitary bachelor, and give him a cup of your nice tea?'

Nice tea? I thot I should have split; for, I'm blest if master had eaten a morsle of dinner!

Never mind: down to tea they sate. 'Do you take cream and sugar, dear sir?' says poar Kicksey, with a voice as tender as a tuttle-duff.

'Both, dearest Miss Kicksey!' answers master; and stowed in a power of sashong and muffinx which would have done honour to a washawoman.

I sha'n't describe the conversation that took place betwigst master and this young lady. The reader, praps, knows y Deuceace took the trouble to talk to her for an hour, and to swallow all her tea. He wanted to find out from her all she knew about the famly money matters, and settle at once which of the two Griffinses he should marry.

The poor thing, of cors, was no match for such a man as my master. In a quarter of an hour, he had, if I may use the igspression, 'turned her inside out.' He knew every thing that she knew, and that, poar creature, was very little. There was nine thousand a year, she had heard say, in money, in houses, in banks in Injar, and what not. Boath the ladies signed papers for selling or buying, and the money seemed equilly divided betwigst them.

Nine thousand a year! Deuceace went away, his cheex tingling, his art beating. He, without a penny, could nex morning, if he liked, be master of five thousand per hannum !

Yes. But how? Which had the money, the mother or the daughter? All the tea-drinking had not taught him this piece of nollidge; and Deuceace thought it a pity that he could not marry both.

The ladies came back at night, mightaly pleased with their reception at the ambasdor's; and, stepping out of their carridge, bid coachmin drive on with a gentleman who had handed them out, -a stout old gentleman, who shook hands most tenderly at parting,

and promised to call often upon my Lady Griffin. He was so polite, that he wanted to mount the stairs with her ladyship; but no, she would not suffer it. 'Edward,' says she to coachmin, quite loud, and pleased that all the people in the hotel should hear her, 'you will take the carriage, and drive his lordship home.’ Now, can you guess who his lordship was? The Right Hon. the Earl of Crabs, to be sure; the very old gnlmn whom I had seen on such charming terms with his son the day before. Master knew this the nex day, and began to think he had been a fool to deny his pa the thousand pound.

Now, though the suckmstansies of the dinner at the ambasdor's only came to my years some time after, I may as well relate 'em here, word for word, as they was told me by the very genlmn who waited behind Lord Crabseses chair.

There was only a 'petty comity' at dinner, as Lady Bobtail said; and my Lord Crabs was placed betwigst the two Griffinses, being mighty ellygant and palite to both. Allow me,' says he to Lady G. (between the soop and the fish), 'my dear madam, to thank you-fervently thank you, for your goodness to my poor boy. Your ladyship is too young to experience, but, I am sure, far too tender not to understand the gratitude which must fill a fond parent's heart for kindness shown to his child. Believe me,' says my lord, looking her full and tenderly in the face, 'that the favours you have done to another have been done equally to myself, and awaken in my bosom the same grateful and affectionate feelings with which you have already inspired my son Algernon.'

Lady Griffin blusht, and droopt her head till her ringlets fell into her fish-plate; and she swallowed Lord Crabs's flumry just as she would so many musharuins. My lord (whose powers of slackjaw was notoarious) nex addrast another spitch to Miss Griffin. He said he'd heard how Deuceace was situated. Miss blusht— what a happy dog he was-Miss blusht crimson, and then he sighed deeply, and began eating his turbat and lobster sos. Master was a good un at flumry, but, law bless you! he was no moar equill to the old man than a molehill is to a mounting. Before the night was over, he had made as much progress as another man would in a ear. One almost forgot his red nose, and his big stomick, and his wicked leering i's, in his gentle insiniwating woice, his fund of annygoats, and, above all, the bewtifle, morl, religious, and honrabble toan of his genral conversation. Praps you will say that these ladies were, for such rich pipple, mightily esaly captivated; but recklect, my dear sir, that they were fresh from Injar, that they'd not sean many lords,-that they adoard the peeridge, as every honest woman does in England who has

proper feelinx, and has read the fashnabble novvles, - -and that here at Paris was their very fust step into fashnabble sosiaty.

Well, after dinner, while Miss Matilda was singing ‘Die tantie,' or Dip your chair,' or some of them sellabrated Italyin hairs (when she began this squall, hang me if she'd ever stop), my lord gets hold of Lady Griffin again, and gradgaly begins to talk to her in a very diffrent strane.

'What a blessing it is for us all,' says he, 'that Algernon has found a friend so respectable as your ladyship.'

'Indeed, my lord; and why? I suppose I am not the only respectable friend that Mr. Deuceace has?'

'No, surely; not the only one he has had: his birth, and, permit me to say, his relationship to myself, have procured him many. But- (here my lord heaved a very affecting and large

sigh).

'But what?' says my lady, laffing at the igspression of his dismal face. 'You don't mean that Mr. Deuceace has lost them, or is unworthy of them?'

'I trust not, my dear madam, I trust not; but he is wild, thoughtless, extravagant, and embarrassed; and you know a man under these circumstances is not very particular as to his associates.'

'Embarrassed? Good heavens ! He says he has two thousand a year left him by a godmother; and he does not seem even to spend his income-a very handsome independence, too, for a bachelor.'

My lord nodded his head sadly, and said,- Will your ladyship give me your word of honour to be secret? My son has but a thousand a year, which I allow him, and is heavily in debt. He has played, madam, I fear; and for this reason I am so glad to hear that he is in a respectable domestic circle, where he may learn, in the presence of far greater and purer attractions, to forget the dice-box, and the low company which has been his bane.'

My Lady Griffin looked very grave indeed. Was it true? Was Deuceace sincere in his professions of love, or was he only a sharper wooing her for her money? Could she doubt her informer? his own father, and, what's more, a real flesh and blood pear of parlyment? She determined she would try him. Praps she did not know she had liked Deuceace so much, until she kem to feel how much she should hate him, if she found he'd been playing her false.

The evening was over, and back they came, as we've seen, my lord driving home in my lady's carridge, her ladyship and miss walking up stairs to their own apartmince.

Here, for a wonder, was poar Miss Kicksy quite happy and

smiling, and evidently full of a secret,-something mighty pleasant, to judge from her loox. She did not long keep it. As she was making tea for the ladies (for in that house they took a cup reglar before bed-time), 'Well, my lady,' says she, 'who do you think has been to drink tea with me?' Poar thing, a frendly face was an event in her life-a tea-party quite a hera!

"Why, perhaps, Lenoir, my maid,' says my lady, looking grave. 'I wish, Miss Kicksy, you would not demean yourself by mixing with my domestics. Recollect, madam, that you are sister to Lady Griffin.'

'No, my lady, it was not Lenoir; it was a gentleman, and a handsome gentleman, too.'

'Oh, it was Monsieur de l'Orge, then,' says miss; 'he promised to bring me some guitar-strings.' 'No, nor yet M. de l'Orge.

He came, but was not so polite as to ask for me. What do you think of your own beau, the Honorable Mr. Algernon Deuceace?' and, so saying, poar Kicksey clapped her hands together, and looked as joyfle as if she'd come into a fortin.

'Mr. Deuceace here; and why, pray?' says my lady, who recklected all that his exlent pa had been saying to her.

'Why, in the first place, he had left his pocket-book, and in the second he wanted, he said, a dish of my nice tea, which he took, and stayed with me an hour, or moar.'

'And pray, Miss Kicksey,' said Miss Matilda, quite contempshusly, 'what may have been the subject of your conversation with Mr. Algernon? Did you talk politics, or music, or fine arts, or metaphysics?' Miss M. being what was called a blue (as most hump-backed women in sosiaty are), always made a pint to speak on these grand subjects.

'No, indeed; he talked of no such awful matters. If he had, you know, Matilda, I should never have understood him. First we talked about the weather, next about muffins and crumpets. Crumpets, he said, he liked best; and then we talked' (here Miss Kicksy's voice fell) 'about poor dear Sir George in heaven! what a good husband he was, and

And what a good fortune he left,-eh, Miss Kicksy?' says my lady, with a hard, snearing voice, and a diabollicle grin.

Yes, dear Leonora, he spoke so respectfully of your blessed husband, and seemed so anxious about you and Matilda, it was quite charming to hear him, dear man!'

'And pray, Miss Kicksy, what did you tell him?'

Oh, I told him that you and Leonora had nine thousand a year,

'What then?'

F