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able; and, you know, I have been trying my best to amend I have not half such a tailor's bill this year as last. I owe scarcely anything. I have paid off Moss every halfpenny for his confounded rings and gimcracks. I asked father about this melancholy news as we walked away from Madame de Florac...

“He is not near so rich as we thought. Since he has been at home he says he has spent greatly more than his income, and is quite angry at his own extravagance. At first he thought he might have retired from the army altogether; but after three years at home, he finds he cannot live upon his. income. When he gets his promotion as full Colonel, he will be entitled to a thousand a year; that, and what he has invested in India, and a little in this country, will be plenty for both of us. He never seems to think of my making money by my profession. Why, suppose I sell the Battle of Assaye' for 500l. ? that will be enough to carry me on ever so long, without dipping into the purse of the dear old father.

- The Viscount de Florac called to dine with us. The Colonel said he did not care about going out: and so the Viscount and I went together. Trois Frères Provençaux—he ordered the dinner, and of course I paid. Then we went to a little theatre, and he took me behind the scenes-such a queer place! We went to the loge of Mademoiselle Finette, who acted the part of ‘Le petit Tambour,' in which she sings a famous song with a drum. He asked her and several literary fellows to supper at the Café Anglais.' And I came home ever so late, and lost twenty napoleons at a game called Bouillote. It was all the change out of a twenty-pound note which dear old Binnie gave me before we set out, with a quotation out of Horace, you know, about Neque tu choreas sperne, puer. Oh me! how guilty I felt as I walked home at ever so much o'clock to the 'Hôtel de la Terrasse,' and sneaked into our apartment ! But the Colonel was sound asleep. His dear old boots stood sentries' at his bed-room door, and I slunk into mine as silently as I could.

"P.S. Wednesday.-There's just one scrap of paper left. I have got J. J.'s letter. He has been to the private view of the Academy (so that his own picture is in), and the 'Battle of Assaye’ is refused. Smee told him it was too big. I daresay it's very bad. I'm glad I'm away, and the fellows are not condoling with me.

“Please go and see Mr. Binnie. He has come to grief. He rode the Colonel's horse; came down on the pavement and wrenched his leg, and I'm afraid the grey's. Please look at his legs; we can't understand John's report of them. He, I mean Mr. B., was going to Scotland to see his relations when the accident happened. You know, he has always been going to Scotland to see his relations. He makes light of the business, and says the Colonel is not to think of coming to him ; and I don't want to go back just yet, to see all the fellows from Gandish's and the Life Academy, and have them grinning at my misfortune,

“The Governor would send his regards, I daresay, but he is out, and I am always yours affectionately,

“CLIVE NEWCOME. "P.S. -He tipped me himself this morning; isn't he a kind, dear old fellow ?"

ARTHUR PENDENNIS, Esq., to CLIVE NEWCOME, ESQ.
Pall Mall Gazette, Journal of Politics, Literature, and Fashion,

"225, Catherine Street, Strand. * DEAR CLIVE,-I regret very much for Fred Bayham's sake (who has lately taken the responsible office of Fine Arts Critic for the P. M. G.) that your extensive picture of the ‘ Battle of Assaye' has not found a place in the Royal Academy Exhibition. F. B. is at least fifteen shillings out of pocket by its rejection, as he had prepared a flaming eulogium of your work, which, of course, is so much waste paper in consequence of this calamity. Never mind. Courage, my son. The Duke of Wellington, you know, was beat back at Seringapatam before he succeeded at Assaye. I hope you will fight other battles, and that fortune in future years will be more favourable to you. The town does not talk very much of your discomfiture. You see the parliamentary debates are very interesting just now, and somehow the ‘Battle of Assaye does not seem to excite the public mind...

“I have been to Fitzroy Square; both to the stables and the house. The Houyhnhnm's legs are very well; the horse slipped on his side and not on his knees, and has received no sort of injury. Not so Mr. Binnie, his ankle is much wrenched and inflamed. He must keep his sofa for many days, perhaps weeks. But you know he is a very cheerful philosopher, and endures the evils of life with much equanimity. His sister has come to him. I don't know whether that may be considered as a consolation of his evil or an aggravation of it. You know he uses the sarcastic method in his talk, and it was difficult to understand from him whether he was pleased or bored by the embraces of his relative. She was an infant when he last beheld her, on his departure to India. She is now (to speak with respect) a very brisk, plump, pretty little widow; having, seemingly, recovered from her grief at the death of her husband, Captain Mackenzie, in the West Indies. Mr. Binnie was just on the point of visiting his relatives, who reside at Musselburgh, near Edinburgh, when he met with the fatal accident which prevented his visit to his native shores. His account of his misfortune and his lonely condition was so pathetic that Mrs. Mackenzie and her daughter put themselves into the Edinburgh steamer, and rushed to console his sofa. They occupy your bed-room and sitting-room, which latter Mrs. Mackenzie says no longer smells of tobaccosmoke, as it did when she took possession of your den. If you have left any papers about, any bills, any billets-doux, I make no doubt the ladies have read every single one of them, according to the amiable habits of their sex. The daughter is a bright little blue-eyed fair-haired lass, with a very sweet voice, in which she sings (unaided by instrumental music, and seated on a chair in the middle of the room) the artless ballads of her native country. I had the pleasure of hearing the ‘Bonnets of Bonnie Dundee' and 'Jock o' Hazeldean' from her ruby lips two evenings since; not, indeed, for the first time in my life, but never from such a pretty little singer. Though both ladies speak our language with something of the tone usually employed by the inhabitants of the northern part of Britain, their accent is exceedingly pleasant, and indeed by no means so strong as Mr. Binnie's own; for Captain Mackenzie was an Englishman for whose sake his lady modified her native Musselburgh pronunciation. She tells many interesting anecdotes of him, of the West Indies, and of the distinguished regiment of Infantry to which the captain belonged. Miss Rosa is a great favourite with her uncle, and I have had the good fortune to make their stay in the metropolis more pleasant, by sending them orders, from the Pall Mall Gazette, for the theatres, panoramas, and the principal sights in town. Foi pictures they do not seem to care much; they thought the National Gallery a dreary exhibition, and in the Royal Academy could be got to admire nothing but the picture of M.Collop of MCollop, by our friend of the like name, but they think Madame Tussaud's interesting exhibition of Waxwork the most delightful in London; and there I had the happiness of introducing them to our friend Mr. Frederick Bayham; who, subsequently, on coming to this office with his valuable contributions on the Fine Arts, made particular inquiries as to their pecuniary means, and expressed himself instantly ready to bestow his hand upon the mother or daughter, provided old Mr. Binnie would make a satisfactory settlement. I got the ladies a box at the opera, whither they were attended by Captain Goby of their regiment, godfather to Miss, and where I had the honour of paying them a visit. I saw your fair young cousin Miss Newcome in the lobby with her grandmamma Lady Kew. Mr. Bayham with great eloquence pointed out to the Scotch ladies the various distinguished characters in the house. The opera delighted them, but they were astounded at the ballet, from which mother and daughter retreated in the midst of a fire of pleasantries of Captain Goby. I can fancy that officer at mess, and how brilliant his anecdotes must have been when the company of Ladies does not restrain his genial flow of humour.

“Here comes Mr. Baker with the proofs. In case you don't see the P. M. G. at Galignani's, I send you an extract from Bayham's article on the Royal Academy, where you will have the benefit of his opinion on the works of some of your friends :

066617. "Moses Bringing Home the Gross of Green Spectacles.” Smith, R.A.-Perhaps poor Goldsmith's exquisite little work has never been so great a favourite as in the present age. We have here, in a work by one of our most eminent artists, an homage to the genius of him “who touched nothing which he did not adorn:” and the charming subject is handled in the most delicious manner by Mr. Smith. The chiaroscuro is admirable: the impasto is perfect. Perhaps a very captious critic might object to the foreshortening of Moses's left leg ; but where there is so much to praise justly, the Pall Mall Gazette does not care to condemn.

"420. Our (and the public's) favourite, Brown, R.A., treats, us to a subject from the best of all stories, the tale “which laughed Spain's chivalry away," the ever-new “Don Quixote.” The incident which Brown has selected is the “ Don's Attack on the Flock of Sheep;” the sheep are in his best manner, painted with all his well-known facility and brio. Mr. Brown's friendly rival, Hopkins, has selected “Gil Blas” for an illustration this year; and the “Robber's Cavern" is one of the most masterly of Hopkins's productions.

66 * Great Rooms. 33. “Portrait of Cardinal Cospetto.” O'Gogstay, A.R.A.; and “Neighbourhood of Corpodibacco-Eveningma Contadina and a Trasteverino dancing at the door of a Locanda to the music of a Pifferaro."-Since his visit to Italy Mr. O'Gogstay seems to have given up the scenes of Irish humour with which he used to delight us; and the romance, the poetry, the religion of “Italia la bella” form the subjects of his pencil. The scene near Corpodibacco (we know the spot well, and have spent many a happy month in its romantic mountains) is most characteristic. Cardinal Cospetto, we must say, is a most truculent prelate, and not certainly an ornament to his church.

"649, 210, 311. Smee, R.A. - Portraits which a Reynolds might be proud of; a Vandyke or a Claude might not disown. “Sir Brian Newcome, in the costume of a Deputy-Lieutenant,” “Major-General Sir Thomas de Boots, K.C.B.," painted for the soth Dragoons, are triumphs, indeed, of this noble painter. Why have we no picture of the sovereign and her august consort from Smee's brush? When Charles II. picked up Titian's mahl stick, he observed to a courtier, A king you can always have; a genius comes but rarely." While we have a Smee among us, and a monarch whom we admire,-may the one be employed to transmit to posterity the beloved features of the other ! We know our lucubrations are read in high places, and respectfully insinuate verbum sapienti.

"661906. “The M‘Collop of M-Collop,"_A. MCollop,—is a noble work of a young artist, who, in depicting the gallant chief of a hardy Scottish clan, has also represented a romantic Highland landscape, in the midst of which, “his foot upon his native heath,” stands a man of splendid symmetrical figure and great facial advantages. We shall keep our eye on Mr. M‘Collop. : “61367. “Oberon and Titania.” Ridley.-- This sweet and fanciful little picture draws crowds round about it, and is one of the most charming and delightful works of the present exhibition. We echo the universal opinion in declaring that it shows not only the greatest promise, but the most delicate and beautiful performance. The Earl of Kew, we understand, bought the picture at the private view; and we congratulate the young painter heartily upon his successful début. He is, we understand, a pupil of Mr. Gandish. Where is that admirable painter? We miss his bold canvases and grand historic outline.'

" I shall alter a few inaccuracies in the composition of our friend F. B., who has, as he says, 'draun it uncommonly mild in the above criticism.' In fact, two days since, he brought in an article of quite a different tendency, of which he retains only the two last paragraphs; but he has, with great magnanimity, recalled his previous observations; and, indeed, he knows as much about pictures as some critics I could name.

“Good-by, my dear Clive! I send my kindest regards to your father; and think you had best see as little as possible of your bouillote-playing French friend and his friends. This advice I know you will follow, as young men always follow the advice of their seniors and well-wishers. I dine in Fitzroy Square to-day with the pretty widow and her daughter, and am yours always, dear Clive,

A. P."

CHAPTER XXIII.

IN WHICH WE HEAR A SOPRANO AND A CONTRALTO. CHE most hospitable and polite of Colonels would not hear of

1 Mrs. Mackenzie and her daughter quitting his house when he returned to it, after six weeks' pleasant sojourn in Paris; nor, indeed, did his fair guest show the least anxiety or intention to go away. Mrs. Mackenzie had a fine merry humour of her own. She was an: old soldier's wife, she said, and knew when her quarters were good; and I suppose, since her honeymoon, when the captain took her to Harrogate and Cheltenham, stopping at the first hotels, and travelling: in a chaise and pair the whole way, she had never been so well off as in that roomy mansion near Tottenham Court Road. Of her mother's. house at Musselburgh she gave a ludicrous but dismal account. “Eh, James,” she said, “I think if you had come to mamma, as you: threatened, you would not have stayed very long. It's a wearisome place. Dr. M'Craw boards with her; and it's sermons and psalmsinging from morning till night. My little Josey takes kindly to the life there, and I left her behind, poor little darling! It was not fair to bring three of us to take possession of your house, dear James; but my poor little Rosey was just withering away there. It's good for the dear child to see the world a little, and a kind uncle, who is not afraid of us now he sees us, is he?" Kind Uncle James was not at all afraid of little Rosey; whose pretty face and modest manners, and sweet songs, and blue eyes, cheered and soothed the old bachelor. Nor was Rosey's mother less agreeable and pleasant. She had married the captain (it was a love-match, against the will of her parents, who had destined her to be the third wife of old Dr. M‘Mull,) when very young. Many sorrows she had had, including poverty, the captain's imprisonment for debt, and his decease; but she was of a gay and lightsome spirit. She was but three-and-thirty years old, and looked five-andtwenty. She was active, brisk, jovial, and alert; and so good-looking, that it was a wonder she had not taken a successor to Captain Mackenzie. James Binnie cautioned his friend the Colonel against the attractions of the buxom siren; and laughingly would ask Clive how he would like Mrs. Mackenzie for a mammaw?

Colonel Newcome felt himself very much at ease regarding his

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