"Is she pretty, and did you dance with her?" asks Ethel.

"Me dance!" says Mr. Barnes. We are speaking of a time before Casinos were, and when the British youth were by no means so active in dancing practice as at the present period. Barnes resumed the reading of his county paper, but presently laid it down, with an exclamation so brisk and loud, that his mother gave a little outcry, and even his father looked up from his letters to ask the meaning of an oath so unexpected and ungenteel.

66 My uncle, the Colonel of Sepoys, and his amiable son have been paying a visit to Newcome-that's the news which I have the pleasure to announce to you," says Mr. Barnes.

"You are always sneering about our uncle," breaks in Ethel, with impetuous voice, "and saying unkind things about Clive. Our uncle is a dear, good, kind man, and I love him. He came to Brighton to see us, and went out every day for hours and hours with Alfred; and Clive, too, drew pictures for him. And he is good, and kind, and generous, and honest as his father. And Barnes is always speaking ill of him behind his back."

"And his aunt lets very nice lodgings, and is altogether a most desirable acquaintance," says Mr. Barnes. "What a shame it is that we have not cultivated that branch of the family."

My dear fellow,” cries Sir Brian, "I have no doubt Miss Honeyman is a most respectable person. Nothing is so ungenerous as to rebuke a gentleman or a lady on account of their poverty, and I coincide with Ethel in thinking that you speak of your uncle and his son in terms which, to say the least, are disrespectful."

"Miss Honeyman is a dear little old woman," breaks in Ethel. "Was not she kind to Alfred, mamma, and did not she make him nice jelly? And a Doctor of Divinity-you know Clive's grandfather was a Doctor of Divinity, mamma, there's a picture of him in a wigis just as good as a banker, you know he is."

"Did you bring some of Miss Honeyman's lodging-house cards with you, Ethel?" says her brother, "and had we not better hang up one or two in Lombard Street; hers and our other relation's, Mrs. Mason ?"

"My darling love, who is Mrs. Mason?" asks Lady Ann.
"Another member of the family, ma'am. She was cousin-
"She was no such thing, sir," roars Sir Brian.

"She was relative and housemaid of my grandfather during his first marriage. She acted, I believe, as dry nurse to the distinguished Colonel of Sepoys, my uncle. She has retired into private life in her native town of Newcome, and occupies her latter days by the management of a mangle. The Colonel and young pothouse have gone down to spend a few days with their elderly relative. It's all here in the

paper, by Jove!" Mr. Barnes clenched his fist, and stamped upon the newspaper with much energy.

"And so they should go down and see her, and so the Colonel should love his nurse, and not forget his relations if they are old and poor," cries Ethel, with a flush on her face, and tears starting into her eyes.

"Hear what the Newcome papers say about it," shrieks out Mr. Barnes, his voice quivering, his little eyes flashing out scorn. "It's in both the papers, I daresay. It will be in the Times to-morrow. By it's delightful. Our paper only mentions the gratifying circumstance; here is the paragraph: 'Lieutenant-Colonel Newcome, C.B., a distinguished Indian officer, and elder brother of our respected townsman and representative, Sir Brian Newcome, Bart., has been staying for the last week at the "King's Arms,” in our city. He has been visited by the principal inhabitants and leading gentlemen of Newcome, and has come among us, as we understand, in order to pass a few days with an elderly relative, who has been living for many years past in great retirement in this place.'

Well, I see no great harm in that paragraph," says Sir Brian. "I wish my brother had gone to the 'Roebuck,' and not to the 'King's Arms,' as the 'Roebuck' is our house; but he could not be expected to know much about the Newcome inns, as he is a new comer himself. And I think it was very right of the people to call on him."

"Now hear what the Independent says, and see if you like that, sir,” cries Barnes, grinning fiercely; and he began to read as follows:

“Mr. Independent—I was born and bred a Screwcomite, and am naturally proud of everybody and everything which bears the revered name of Screwcome. I am a Briton and a man, though I have not the honour of a vote for my native borough; if I had, you may be sure I would give it to our admired and talented representative, Don Pomposo Lickspittle Grindpauper Poor House Agincourt Screwcome, whose ancestors fought with Julius Cæsar against William the Conqueror, and whose father certainly wielded a cloth-yard shaft in London not fifty years ago.

"Don Pomposo, as you know, seldom favours the town of Screwcome with a visit. Our gentry are not of ancient birth enough to be welcome to a Lady Screwcome. Our manufacturers make their money by trade. Oh, fie! how can it be supposed that such vulgarians should be received among the aristocratic society of Screwcome House? Two balls in the season, and ten dozen of gooseberry, are enough for them?"

"It's that scoundrel Parrot," burst out Sir Brian; "because I

wouldn't have any more wine of him--No, it's Vidler, the apothecary. By heavens! Lady Ann, I told you it would be so. Why didn't you ask the Miss Vidlers to your ball?”

"They were on the list," cries Lady Ann, "three of them; I did everything I could; I consulted Mr. Vidler for poor Alfred, and he actually stopped and saw the dear child take the physic. Why were they not asked to the ball?” cries her Ladyship bewildered; “I declare to gracious goodness I don't know."

Barnes scratched their names," cries Ethel, "out of the list, mamma. You know you did, Barnes; you said you had gallipots enough."

I don't think it is like Vidler's writing," said Mr. Barnes, perhaps willing to turn the conversation. "I think it must be that villain Duff, the baker, who made the song about us at the last election; but hear the rest of the paragraph,” and he continued to read

"The Screwcomites are at this moment favoured with a visit from a gentleman of the Screwcome family, who, having passed all his life abroad, is somewhat different from his relatives, whom we all so love and honour! This distinguished gentleman, this gallant soldier, has come ainong us, not merely to see our manufactures-in which Screwcome can vie with any city in the North-but an old servant and relation of his family, whom he is not above recognizing; who nursed him in his early days; who has been living in her native place for many years, supported by the generous bounty of Colonel N. The gallant officer, accompanied by his son, a fine youth, has taken repeated drives round our beautiful environs in one of friend Taplow's (of the "King's Arms") open drags, and accompanied by Mrs. Mnow an aged lady, who speaks, with tears in her eyes, of the goodness and gratitude of her gallant soldier!

""One day last week they drove to Screwcome House. Will it be believed that, though the house is only four miles distant from our city-though Don Pomposo's family have inhabited it these twelve years for four or five months every year-Mrs. M― saw her cousin's house for the first time; has never set her eyes upon those grandees, except in public places, since the day when they honoured the county by purchasing the estate which they own?

"I have, as I repeat, no vote for the borough; but if I had, oh, wouldn't I show my respectful gratitude at the next election, and plump for Pomposo! I shall keep my eye upon him, and am, Mr. Independent,

"Your Constant Reader,

"PEEPING TOM.'

"The spirit of radicalism abroad in this country," said Sir Brian

Newcome, crushing his eggshell desperately, “is dreadful, really dreadful. We are on the edge of a positive volcano." Down went the egg-spoon into its crater. "The worst sentiments are everywhere publicly advocated; the licentiousness of the press has reached a pinnacle which menaces us with ruin; there is no law which these shameless newspapers respect; no rank which is safe from their attacks; no ancient landmark which the lava flood of democracy does not threaten to overwhelm and destroy."

"When I was at Spielberg," Barnes Newcome remarked kindly, "I saw three long-bearded, putty-faced blackguards pacin' up and down a little court-yard, and Count Kettenheimer told me they were three damned editors of Milanese newspapers, who had had seven years of imprisonment already; and last year when Kettenheimer came to shoot at Newcome, I showed him that old thief, old Batters, the proprietor of the Independent, and Potts, his infernal ally, driving in a dog-cart; and I said to him, 'Kettenheimer, I wish we had a place where we could lock up some of our infernal radicals of the press, or that you could take off those two villains to Spielberg;' and as we were passin', that infernal Potts burst out laughin' in my face, and cut one of my pointers over the head with his whip. We must do something with that Independent, sir.”

"We must," says the father, solemnly, "we must put it down, Barnes; we must put it down.”

"I think," says Barnes, "we had best give the railway advertisements to Batters."

"But that makes the man of the Sentinel so angry," says the elder persecutor of the press.

"Then let us give Tom Potts some shootin' at any rate; the ruffian is always poachin' about our covers as it is. Speers should be written to, sir, to keep a look-out upon Batters and that villain his accomplice, and to be civil to them, and that sort of thing; and, damn it! to be down upon them whenever he sees the opportunity."

During the above conspiracy for bribing or crushing the independence of a great organ of British opinion, Miss Ethel Newcome held her tongue; but when her papa closed the conversation, by announcing solemnly that he would communicate with Speers, Ethel turning to her mother said, "Mamma, is it true that grandpapa has a relation living at Newcome who is old and poor?”

My darling child, how on earth should I know?" says Lady Ann. "I daresay Mr. Newcome had plenty of poor relations.”

"I am sure some on your side, Ann, have been good enough to visit me at the bank," said Sir Brian, who thought his wife's ejaculation was a reflection upon his family, whereas it was the statement of a simple fact in Natural History. "This person was no relation of

my father's at all. She was remotely connected with his first wife, I believe. She acted as servant to him, and has been most handsomely pensioned by the Colonel.”

"Who went to her, like a kind, dear, good, brave uncle as he is,” cried Ethel; "the very day I go to Newcome I'll go to see her." She caught a look of negation in her father's eye, "I will go-that is if papa will give me leave," says Miss Ethel.

By Gad, sir," says Barnes, "I think it is the very best thing she could do; and the best way of doing it. Ethel can go with one of the boys and take Mrs. What-d'you-call'em a gown, or tract, or that sort of thing, and stop that infernal Independent's mouth.”

"If we had gone sooner,” said Miss Ethel, simply, "there would not have been all this abuse of us in the paper." To which statement her worldly father and brother perforce agreeing, we may congratulate good old Mrs. Mason upon the new and polite acquaintances she is about to make.