one truth cannot be hidden, and that is that capital is the accumulation of labour. It matters not whether your grandfather, or your father, or you, have laboured for the capital; but it's yours, and if ye let it slip, and pass into the hands of a swindler, is it not plain that you surrender and sacrifice, if I may so speak, the toil of those who have gane before ye; and are ye no answerable, in a measure, for all the pinchings they have made to benefit the next generation? And now I hae done. Gudesake! I wish Lord Brougham had heard me. Maybe he might have wafted me into a chair of Political Economy, where naebody could contradict my doctrine!"

"I can assure you, Davie, if you were always to speak as sensibly as you have now spoken, you would be esteemed a most admirable professor."

"Weel; be that as it may, dinna you be blate. I'm no expecting that the storm will burst for a while yet, but there are kittle signs in the weatherglass; and it's aye a wise thing to put the corn under thack and rape sae lang as the lift is clear."

Honest Davie left me, I confess, rather in a state of perturbation. I knew him to be a shrewd fellow, well able to form a just conclusion from what he saw going on around him; and my own knowledge of the extent of the liabilities undertaken by the directors of the lines in question was sufficient to convince me that any sudden check or panic in the market must lead to disastrous consequences. My breakfast, therefore, was a very uncomfortable one; and no sooner was it over than I sallied forth in quest of my adviser, Mr Shearaway. He had left his hotel, with an intimation that he would not return till evening. I then went in search of Ewins, thinking it probable that the acute Yankee might have picked up some information that might be useful; but the descendant of Macbeth had gone to the city, and doubtless by this time was in deep colloquy with the bulls and bears. So I had nothing for it but to return to my apartment, and apply myself to the preparation of a leader, which I suspect was not much more cheerful in its tone than a page of the Sorrows of Werther.

Lord and Lady Windermere had continued to extend to me very marked and thoughtful kindness, and I had a card that evening for one of the countess's receptions. I had not mingled very much in society; being, to say the truth, somewhat indifferent to its charms, partly from a sort of shyness which was constitutional, and partly because I felt it a sort of hypocrisy to enact the character of an idler. But an invitation to the Windermeres was not to be lightly regarded, or in any wise passed over; so I went there in pretty much the same spirit as that in which a bashful country member presents himself for the first time at a Royal levée.

The company at Lady Windermere's receptions was rather select than numerous, for she had a horror of lionising-that is, of crowding her drawing-room with celebrities, diplomatic, literary, or otherwise; a prac

tice which is resorted to by some great people, by way of showing that they are in nowise insensible to the claims of genius. Few were invited save those who were connected either by family ties, or those of political association, recognised eminence, or otherwise friendship and esteem: consequently the reunions were voted to be tiresome by people to whom excitement had become a necessary condition of existence, but highly prized by those of more sober and intellectual tastes. There it certainly was not to be anticipated that you would meet without fail the utterer of the last flashy speech in Parliamentthe distinguished patriotic refugee upon whose head foreign governments had set a price-the preacher whose eloquent neology was attracting thousands of professed orthodox Christians to his chapelthe writer of the recent pamphlet that had fallen like a bomb-shell

into the Cabinet-or the author of that charming novel which everybody was bound to read. But you were sure to find people of sense, intellect, cultivation, established fame, and high unblemished character; and beyond that, surely, there was very

little to be desired.

After I had made my bow to Lady Windermere, the first person I recognised in the saloon was Mr Lumley, whose acquaintance I had made at Wilbury. From what I had seen of him there I liked him very much, for beneath the mask of apathy he concealed much quiet humour and good feeling, and he was, moreover, thoroughly in all respects a gentleman. He greeted me very cordially, and began to talk over the events which had occurred when we met in the country at Christmas.

"I have sad tidings to give you," said he, "of your fair friend, Miss Bootle, who, you may remember, made such a decided set at you on the subject of the Jesuits. Heaven knows what had possessed the excellent old lady, but she took it into her head, after you had left, that you were a member of the order, and absolutely quarrelled with Dr Wayles, who, regarding you as an excellent specimen of the antique Scotch nonjuror for you gained his heart by a eulogy on the seven bishops maintained that you were a second Spinckes. But when the poacher story got wind, Miss Bootle's suspicions became convictions; and in order that she might thoroughly escape from a world, which, in her diseased imagination, is thickly planted with Jesuitical traps, she has entered an Agapemone, or Home of Love, to which she has conveyed not only her esteemed person, but some fifteen thousand pounds, invested in consols, whereunto, according to the rules of heraldry and representation, I ought to succeed, failing heirs of her body, which would be truly miraculous, as she has nearly attained to the respectable antiquity of Sarah."

"I do hope, Mr Lumley, that I was not the cause, however innocent, of such a catastrophe."

"Most assuredly not: I acquit you entirely. The agent was a red-haired foxy fellow, who had been lurking in

the neighbourhood under the pretext of collecting subscriptions for a Patagonian mission. It is wonderful what interest ladies of a certain age will take in savages that are seven feet high! They don't seem to care so much about pigmies. But I really want to know something about that surveyor whom we started in the plantation. He was a first-rate fellow-fairly puzzled me; and I have a sort of notion, from something that fell accidentally from Carlton, that you are acquainted with his antecedents."

"Your conjecture is right, Mr Lumley, though I did not recognise him at the moment. I ought to know him well, for he happens to be my foster-brother."

"Well, I have to thank him for as pretty a run as I ever took across a country. But there is quite a Wilbury party here to-night. I heard in the next room the stentorian voice of Sir John Hawkins declaiming to Lord Windermere on the subject of the rights of land to be protected against railway aggression; and there sits a most charming representative of the opposite interest in the person of Miss Beaton, who should certainly command my vote in the event of a division being called for."

I looked in the direction indicated, and there indeed was Mary Beaton, evidently a centre of attraction; for a group of young men were hovering round her, anxious to engage her attention, but apparently not very successful in the attempt. The truth is, that few Englishmen are expert in the science of love-making, and when they attempt to practise it in public, display unaccountable awkwardness. A Frenchman, when addressing a lady, always tries to convey by his manner an impression of gallantry and devotion, which could hardly fail to have its effect, if, at the same time, he did not neutralise it by too strong an infusion of fanfaronade and extravagance. He thinks that he is using the language of Bayard, but it is of Bayard only as represented at the Cirque Olympique. Nevertheless he has self-possession and a happy audacity, which the Englishman totally wants. The latter cannot turn a compliment, is clumsy in his petits

soins, stammers, blushes, or else becomes egotistical, and, foregoing homage, talks incoherently on subjects in which the fair listener can have no manner of interest. It is not at all uncommon among a certain set of young men to hear such expressions as-"Well, by Jove, who would have thought it? Harriet Erpingham has hooked Jack Newlands." This sounds degrading, not only for the particular fish, but for the whole shoal to which he belongs, yet it is the true confession of a fact. Jack would never have proposed to Harriet, unless she had relieved him of the intolerable nuisance of love-making. He liked her very well-better than any other girl he met with at balls or assemblies; but when he tried to make himself agreeable, he could talk of nothing except hunting, which was his favourite pursuit. Harriet was naturally a devotee to music, but did not dislike Jack, who was a personable good-humoured fellow, and possessed of an excellent estate, and she was ambitious of an establishment. She might as well have quoted the Talmud as have spoken to Jack of the divine beauties of Beethoven or Mendelssohn; so she affected a vivid interest in his tales of the field and its trophies, and by that means won his heart and took possession of his fortune. " "Hooking," when we come to analyse it, means simply this, that a clever, well-educated girl, can make conquest of an honest oaf, who ought, by rights, and from the dignity of his sex, to be the ensnarer, but who is so absolute a fool that, for his own comfort and advantage, it is necessary that he should be basketed with the minimum of trouble.

It was very evident to me that Miss Beaton was undergoing the persecution to which all heiresses are liable, but not evident that any one of the suitors then gathered around her was likely to succeed. One of them was Mr Popham, the young aspirant after Treasury honours, who had really nothing to recommend him beyond a vapid kind of good-nature, and an aptitude for retailing what he considered to be the bons mots of eminent men of his party-platitudes which might have been received as smart enough sayings in the lobby of the

House of Commons, but were by no means likely to interest a lady who cared nothing for things political. Another candidate for favour and smiles was a gentleman of limited fortune, but, by his own assertion, of long descent, notorious for his egotistical qualities, and the supercilious and depreciating way in which he talked of others. He was not exactly a tuft-hunter, for he considered himself, on the strength of some dubious interjection of Tudor blood, quite upon a par with any nobleman in the land; but he had studied the Peerage Book with amazing industry, for the purpose of finding out blots in pedigree and unenviable alliances, and of these he had a large stock of instances which he carefully carried in his memory-offensive pebbles from the brook, to be slung at the foreheads of tall aristocratic Philistines. There was not a case of divorce or scandal among the higher circles that had occurred during the last century and a half, of which he could not furnish the exact particulars-nay, he had pushed his studies so far, that he knew all about the plebeian races that in former generations had supplied wives to needy or extravagant patricians. If a living duchess was cited as a pattern of worth and benevolence, Mr Francis Gorget would inform you, with an air of infinite concern, that her grandfather had vended figs and other groceries in the City. Was an earl quoted as a model of high integrity, Mr Gorget would contrast his conduct with that of his maternal granduncle, regarding whom he had ascertained the melancholy fact that he was hanged at Tyburn for forgery. These being his usual topics, it was not probable that the small-talk of this accomplished heraldic devil's advocate would find favour in a lady's

though the capillary honours had departed from his sloping forehead, I recognised the lineaments of our old election candidate, the Honourable Sholto Linklater.

"You see how it is," said Mr Lumley; "Miss Beaton is not a flower born to blush unseen; nor need she waste her fragrance on the desert air for any lack of admirers. Now there is something melancholy to me, who am, you know, a confirmed old bachelor and cynic, and may, therefore, speak my mind, in such a sight as that. There is a most charming and accomplished girl, well worthy, for her own sake alone, to be wooed by a Paladin, if such a character could be found in our degenerate days; and yet, because she unfortunately has the reputation of being an heiress, fellows of no consideration, and with nothing to recommend them-the mere flesh-flies of society-flock around her, and molest her with their impertinent buzzing. I wish Ashford or some such fine young fellow would come forward and drive them away; but Ashford is a Sir Galahad, who will not bend to love; and others, I suppose, hold back, lest they should be suspected of mercenary motives. After all, wealth is not a decided advantage to a young lady so endowed by nature as Miss Beaton."

"I see," said I," that a countryman of mine has enrolled himself among the number of her admirers."

"You mean Mr Linklater?" said Lumley. "I take it that is a very hopeless attempt; unless, indeed, the excellent fellow could procure a dragoman or interpreter. I must needs say, Mr Sinclair, that you do occasionally send us some strange animals from the north. Sholto came up to town some years ago, under influential Whig patronage, to be licked into some kind of uncouth official shape; for I understand him to be one of that favoured class of well-connected younger sons, who, being guiltless of means and unable to do anything for themselves, must be provided for at the public expense. That, at any rate, is the doctrine and practice of your Scotch Whig magnates, who seem to be provided with harpies, as their fathers were furnished with hawks. But it

was utterly impossible to make anything of Sholto. They gave him several chances, but his stupidity was really awful-he could hardly even affix his name to a receipt for salary without blundering. At length the party trainer plainly intimated that the attempt was hopeless; and when the Whigs went out of office, Sholto was turned adrift. Since then he has been grazing, I fear, on rather short commons; but it would seem that he has a noble ambition of his own, and hopes, by a lucky matrimonial speculation, to make up for the double deficiency in fortune and in brains. But, Mr Sinclair, do you not intend to renew your acquaintance with Miss Beaton?-or are you one of those fainthearted people who shrink from dowered beauty? Come, I shall assume the privilege of a senior, and conduct you under cover of my wing."

"Miss Beaton," said Lumley, after making his own salutation, here

is one of our Wilbury Christmas party, lost in the maze of the London labyrinth, to whom in charity you should give a clue."

"You are much too learned for my apprehension, Mr Lumley," replied Miss Beaton. "I must ask Mr Linklater to explain your meaning. But I have not forgotten Mr Sinclair."

"I am too happy," said I-stammering, of course, as men always stammer when they lose their selfpossession-" to have kept any place, however slight, in Miss Beaton's memory. May I ask if you have heard recently from our friends at Wilbury?"

"O yes!" said Miss Beaton, "Amy is an excellent correspondent. They are all well-I mean the Stanhopes; and - and your friend Mr Carlton is, I believe, still in that neighbourhood.

Does not he communicate

"My dear Popham!" said Lumley, "don't waste time in literary criticism just now. I had no idea you were in the room. Tressilian has been here in search of absentees, and entreats you will hurry down to the House instantly, as a division will probably take place. He said they had put up an old stager to speak against time, but the members were becoming restive."

"You don't say so!" cried Popham. "Then I must be off as fast as a cab can carry me. It's a very hard thing, Miss Beaton; but duty -duty, you know

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Nay, Mr Popham-no apology is requisite for yielding to the call of duty!"

Very justly observed," replied Popham. "That reminds me of what Peel once said to me, just before a question-I think it was something connected with the budget which was coming on."

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"Bless me! that's very true," cried Popham, and he disappeared. "Rather cruel sending poor Popham on a fool's errand, though it is the only one he is fit for," remarked Mr Gorget, sneeringly. I have just heard that the debate is adjourned. But Popham has a hereditary aptitude for running messages. I happen to know that his father began life as a clerk in the establishment of Pickford & Co., the van-and- waggon people. His mother, to be sure, was a Pendarves-very fair blood, but she

married old Popham out of sheer necessity. Her father was utterly ruined."

"You are quite right, Mr Gorget," said Lumley; "accurate as usual in your facts. Mr Pendarves, of whom I have a distinct recollection, was ruined, as you say, and, if rumour is to be credited, through the malpractices of a rascally Welsh attorney-let me see what was his name?"

"I wish you good evening, Miss Beaton!" said Gorget, hurriedly. “I think I see-that is, I promised to tell Lady Oaks"-and he vanished into the crowd.

"Mr Lumley!" said Miss Beaton, laughingly, "I shall be seriously angry with you if you continue to play the part of the malevolent enchanter. What right have you to dismiss my poor familiar spirits?"

"I should not despair of your forgiveness, fair lady, if I were permanently to imprison both of them in the caverns of the Red Sea. But my power over them is only momentary, though I use it for your deliverance."

"I wish I had the secret of your spell, Mr Lumley. It must be a very strong one to have effect upon Mr Gorget."

"There is really no secret. Gorget was simply foolish enough to display a chink in his armour. I marked the vulnerable point, but merely threatened him; and he, like most people who delight in inflicting wounds, made off in terror of the thrust. The Welsh attorney in question was his uncle. Yet," said Lumley, lowering his voice and glancing at Sholto Linklater, who was helplessly playing with his hat, "it would appear you have another sentinel."

"O, do pray relieve the poor fellow, Mr Lumley!" said Miss Beaton. "He must be very tired, for he has been on duty the whole evening, and you know that sentinels are forbid to speak."

"To hear is to obey," said Lumley; "and you will, I am sure, pardon my presumption when you remember why I came to the rescue. You were speaking to Mr Sinclair of my dear little pet, Amy Stanhope, who has adopted me as an honorary uncle;