apparently not being favoured by Nature with any superfluous acuteness of intellect or sweetness of disposition, merely stared sulkily in reply.

"The fellow's a fool," muttered Lawless, " and can't understand English.-Hark ye, sirrah," he continued, "is your master at home?"

As the hero of the shoulder-knot vouchsafed an affirmative reply to this somewhat more intelligible query, we alighted, and were straightway ushered into the drawing-room, where we found Mr. and Mrs. Coleman, and as Lawless afterwards expressed it, "a party unknown," who was immediately with much pomp and ceremony introduced to us by the name of Mr. Lowe Brown, an announcement which elicited from my companion the whispered remark, "The dry-salter himself, by jingo! this looks like business, old fellow, there's no time to be lost, depend upon it."

"Ah! Mr. Lawlegh," exclaimed Mrs. Coleman, shaking hands cordially with Lawless; "I thought we were never going to see you again, and I'm sure I was quite delighted, though the servant kept you so long waiting at the gate, till I got Mr. Brown to ring the bell; and Mr. Fairless too, so kind of him, with those beautiful chestnut horses standing there catching cold, in that very high gig, which must be so dangerous, if you were to fall out, both of you."

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"No fear of that, ma'am," replied Lawless; Fairlegh and I have known each other too long to think of falling out in a hurry,-firm friends, ma'am, as your son Freddy would say."

"Poor Freddy," returned Mrs. Coleman affectionately, "did he send any message by you, to say when he is coming home again? We shall have some good news for him, I hope, for he was always very fond of his cousin Lucy."

"Family affection is a fine thing, ma'am," said Lawless, winking at me," and ought to be encouraged at any price, eh?"

"Very true, Mr. Lawlegh, very true, and I am glad to find you think so, instead of living at those nasty clubs all day, turning out wild, smoking cigars like German students, and breaking their mothers' heart with a latch-key, at one o'clock in the morning, afterwards, when they ought to have been in bed and asleep for the last three hours.-Good bye, and God bless you."

The six concluding words of Mrs. Coleman's not over perspicuous speech were addressed to Mr. Lowe Brown, who rose to take leave. This gentleman, (for such I presume one is bound to designate him, however little appearances might warrant such an appellation,) was a short, stout, not to say fat personage, with an unmeaning pink and white face, and a smug self-satisfied manner and look, which involuntarily reminded one of a sleek and well-conditioned tom-cat. Old Mr. Coleman rose also, and shaking his hand with great empressement, left the room with him in order to conduct him to the door with due honour.

"Look at the servile old rogue, worshipping that snob's 2,000l. per annum," whispered Lawless; "we'll

Trump of a partner she must have been, and no mistake!" said Lawless, enthusiastically. "I suppose she didn't leave the recipe behind her, ma'am?"

"No, Mr. Fairless, no! at least I never heard she did, though I've got a recipe of her's for cherrybrandy, and a very good one it is, poor thing! But Mr. Brown, you see, with his fortune, might look so much higher, that, as Mr. Coleman says, it's a chance she may never have again, and it would be madness to throw it away, in her circumstances too."

"Did Mr. Brown think of marrying your aunt, then, ma'am? asked Lawless, with an air of wouldbe innocence.

'No, my dear-I mean, Mr. Lawlegh, no-she died, and he went to Merchant Tailors' in the same year; we were making it out last night-no, it's Lucy, poor dear, and a famous thing it is for her, only she can't bear the sight of him."

At this moment Mr. Coleman returned, and Lawless giving me a sly glance, accosted him with a face of the most perfect gravity, begging the favour of a few minutes' private conversation with him, a request which that gentleman, with a slight appearance of surprise, immediately granted, and they left the room together.

During their absence good Mrs. Coleman confided to me with much circumlocution her own private opinion, that Lucy and Mr. Brown were by no means suited to each other, "because, you see, Mr. Lawlegh my dear, Lucy's clever, and says sharp, funny things that make one laugh, what they call piquante, you know, and poor Mr. Brown, he's very quiet and good-natured, but he's not used to that sort of thing; and she what you call laughs at him;" ending with a confession that she thought Freddy and Lucy were made for each other, and that she had always hoped some day to see them married.

Dear, kind-hearted, puzzle-headed little woman! how I longed to comfort her, by giving her a glimpse behind the scenes! but it would have entailed certain ruin; she would have made confusion worse confounded of the best laid scheme that Machiavelli ever concocted.

When Lawless and Mr. Coleman returned from their tête-à-tête, it was easy to see, by the flattered but perplexed expression discernible in the countenance of the elder, and a grin of mischievous delight in that of the younger gentleman, that the stratagem had succeeded so far, and that a cloud had already shaded the fair hopes of the unconscious Mr. Lowe Brown.

"Ah-a-hem! my dear Mrs. Coleman," began

her spouse, his usually pompous manner having gained an accession of dignity, which to those who guessed the cause of it was irresistibly absurd. "A-hem—as I am, I believe, right in supposing Mr. Fairlegh is acquainted with the object of his friend's visit,”

"All right, sir!" put in Lawless, "Go ahead." "And as I am particularly requested to inform you of the honour" (with a marked stress on the word,)" done to a member of my family, I conceive that I am guilty of no breach of confidence in mentioning that Mr. Lawless has proposed to me in due form for the hand of my niece Lucy Markham, offering to make most liberal settlements; indeed, considering that the fortune Lucy is justified in expecting at her father's death is very inconsiderable -an income of 4007. a year divided amongst thirteen children, deducting a jointure for the widow, should my sister survive Mr. Markham-'

"Never mind the tin, Mr. Coleman," interrupted Lawless, "you don't catch me buying a mare for the sake of her trappings. In the first place, second-hand harness is never worth fetching home; and in the next, let me tell you, sir, it's your niece's good points I admire small head, well set on-nice light neck-good slanting shoulder, pretty fore-arm, clean about the pasterns-fast springy action-goodtempered, a little playful, but no vice about her, and altogether as sweet a thing as a man need wish to possess. Depend upon it, Mr. Coleman," continued Lawless, who having fallen into his usual style of speech, was fairly off," depend upon it, you'd be very wrong to let her get into a dealer's hands, you would indeed, sir; and if that Mr. Brown isn't in that line it's odd to me. I've seen him down at Tattersall's in very shady company, if I'm not much mistaken; he's the cut of a leg, every inch of him."

Want of breath fortunately obliging him to stop, Lawless's chief auditors, who had gleaned about as much idea of his meaning as if he had been haranguing them in Sanscrit, now interposed; Mrs. Coleman to invite us to stay to luncheon, and her husband to beg that his niece Lucy might be summoned to attend him in his study, as he should consider it his duty to lay before her Mr. Lawless's very handsome and flattering proposal.

"And suppose Lucy should take it into her head, by any chance, to say Yes," ("Never thought of that, by Jove!-that would be a sell," muttered Lawless, aside,) "what's to become of poor dear Mr. Lowe Brown?" inquired Mrs. Coleman anxiously.

CHAPTER XXV.

A COMEDY OF ERRORS.

POOR pretty little Lucy Markham! what business had tears to come and profane with their tell-tale traces that bright, merry face of thine-fitting index to thy warm heart and sunny disposition! And yet in the quenched light of that dark eye, in the heavy swollen lid, and in the paled roses of thy dimpled cheek, might be read the tokens of a concealed grief, that like "a worm i' the bud," had already begun to mar thy sparkling beauty. Heed it not, pretty Lucy-sorrow such as thine is light and transient, and succour, albeit in a disguise thou canst not penetrate, is even now at hand. As she entered the luncheon-room, returning Lawless's salutation with a most becoming blush, the thought crossed my mind, that in his position I should be almost tempted to regret I was destined to perform the lover's part on that occasion only. Such, however, were not the ideas of my companion, for he whispered to me," I say, Frank, she looks uncommon friendly, eh ?—I don't know what to make of it, I can tell you; this is getting serious."

"You must endeavour by your manner to neutralize your many fascinations," replied I, striving to hide a smile, for he was evidently in earnest.

"Neutralize my grandmother!" was the rejoinder, "I can't go and be rude to the young woman. "How d'ye do, miss?" he continued gruffly; "how d'ye do? you see, we left Fred" here I nudged him to warn him to avoid that subject—“ that is, we left Heathfield,-I mean, started early-Let me help you, Mrs. Coleman :-precious tough customer that chicken seems to be-who'll have a wing?"

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Really, Mr. Lawless, you are very rude to my poor chicken, it's out of our own farm-yard, I assure you; and the turkey cock, his sister, that's Lucy's mother, sent him here; she has thirteen children you know, poor thing, and lives at Dorking; they are famous, for all having five toes, you know, and growing so very large, and this must be one of them, I think."

"They were Dorking fowls mamma sent you, aunt; you don't keep turkeys," interposed Lucy, as Lawless fairly burst out laughing—an example which it was all I could do to avoid imitating.

'Yes, to be sure, my dear, I said so, didn't I? I remember very well they came in a three-dozen hamper, poor things, and were put in the back kitchen because it was too late to turn them out; and as soon as it was light they began to crow, and to make that noise about laying eggs, you know, so that I never got a wink of sleep after, thinking of your poor mother, and all her troubles-thirteen of them, dear me ! till Mr. Coleman got up and turned them out, with a bad cold, in his dressing gown and slippers."

good news to communicate, and that matters were not so bad as you imagined."

me were really in earnest!-I tell you what, I don't half like it, I can assure you, sir! I shall put my foot in it here, too, if I don't mind what I'm at. Suppose, instead of marrying Freddy, she were to take it into her head she should like to be a peeress some day, what would become of me, eh?"

At this moment Mr. Coleman returned, his face beaming with dignity and self-satisfaction. Approaching Lawless, he motioned him to a chair, and then seating himself exactly opposite, gave one or two deep hems to clear his throat, and then began:

--

"I am empowered by my niece, standing as I may say in loco parentis-(for though her parents are not positively defunct, still they have so completely delegated to me all control and authority over their daughter, that they may morally be considered dead,) -I am empowered, then, by my niece to inform you, in answer to your very flattering proposal of marriage, that although she has not had sufficient opportunity of becoming acquainted with your character and general disposition, to justify her in at once ratifying the contract, she agrees to sanction your visits here in the character of her suitor." (Lawless's face on receiving this announcement was as good as a play to behold.) "In fact, my dear sir," continued Mr. Coleman, warming with the subject," as my niece at the same time has signified to me her express desire that I should definitely and finally reject the suit of a highly amiable young man of fortune, who has for some time past paid his addresses to her, I think that we may consider ourselves fully justified in attributing the slightly equivocal nature of her answer to a pardonable girlish modesty and coyness, and that I shall not be premature in offering you my hearty congratulations on the successful issue of your suit-ahem-" And so saying, Mr. Coleman rose from his seat, and taking Lawless's unwilling hand in his own, shook it with the greatest empressement.

"Thank ye, Gov-that is, Mr. Coleman,-Uncle, I suppose I shall soon have to call you," said Lawless, with a wretched attempt at hilarity; "it's very flattering, you know, and of course I feel excessively, eh! uncommon, don't you see.-Get me away, can't you?" he added in an angry whisper, turning to me, "I shall go mad, or be ill, or something, in a minute."

"I think the tandem has been here some time," interposed I, coming to his assistance, "the horses will get chilled standing."

"Eh? yes! very true, we must be cutting away; make ourselves scarce, don't you see?" rejoined Lawless, brightening up at the prospect of escape. "Let me ring for the ladies," said Mr. Coleman, moving towards the bell.

"Eh! not for the world, my dear sir, not for the world," exclaimed Lawless interposing to prevent him-" Really my feelings-in fact all our feelings have been sufficiently excited,-steam got up, high pressure, eh?-some other day-pleasure,-Good morning. Don't come out, pray."

And so saying he fairly bolted out of the room, an example which I was about to follow, when Mr. Coleman seizing me by the button, began,

"I can see, Mr. Fairlegh, that Mr. Lawless is naturally uneasy and annoyed at Mr. Brown's attentions; but he need not be, pray assure him of this-Mr. Brown is a highly estimable young man, but his family are very much beneath ours in point of rank. I shall write to him this afternoon, and inform him that on mature deliberation, I find it impossible to allow my niece to form a matrimonial alliance with any one in trade-that will set the matter definitely at rest. Perhaps you will kindly mention this to your friend."

"I shall be most happy to do so," replied I, "nor have I the slightest doubt that my friend will consider the information perfectly satisfactory." And with many assurances of mutual consideration and esteem we parted.

Oh! the masks and dominos of the mind! what mountebank ever wore so many disguises as the heart of man? If some potent spirit of evil had suddenly converted Elm Lodge into the palace of Truth, the light of its master's countenance would have grown dark as he read the thoughts that were passing in my breast; and instead of bestowing upon me the attentions due to the chosen friend of the wealthy suitor to his portionless niece, he would have done his best to kick me down the steps as an impostor plotting to marry his son to a beggar. When will men learn to value money at its real worth, and find out that warm loving hearts and true affections are priceless gems that wealth cannot purchase?

We drove for some time in silence, which was at length broken by Lawless, who in a tone of the deepest dejection began,

"The first tolerably deep gravel pit we come to, I must trouble you to get out, if you please." "Get out at a gravel pit! for goodness' sake why?" inquired I.

"Because I intend to back the tandem into it, and break my neck," was the unexpected answer. "Break your neck! nonsense, man. Why, what's the matter now? Hasn't your mad scheme succeeded beyond all expectation?"

"Ah! you may well say that!" was the rejoinder. "Beyond all expectation, indeed! yes, I should think so, rather. If I'd expected any thing of the kind, it's thirty miles off I'd have been at the very least by this time-more, if the horses would have done it, which I think they would with steady driving, good luck, and a feed of beans."

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'Why, what is it you fancy you've done, then?" Fancy I've done, eh? Well, if that isn't enough to make a fellow punch his own father's head with vexation.-What have I done, indeed! why, I'll tell you what I have done, Mr. Frank Fairlegh, since you are so obtuse as not to have found out by your own powers of observation. I've won the heart of an innocent and unsuspecting young female,-I've destroyed the dearest hopes of my particular friend,— and I've saddled myself with a superfluous wife, when my affections are reposing in the cold-arwhat do you call it, tomb, eh? of the future Lady

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By the way," returned Lawless, as we drove through Heathfield Park, "I must not forget that I've got to immolate Shrimp on the altar of my aspersed reputation-call his master a 'scamp,' the amphibious little reprobate! a brat that's neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor good red herring; that spent his pitiful existence in making mud pies in a gutter, till I was kind enough to—"

"Run over him, and break his arm," added I. "Exactly," continued Lawless, "and a famous thing it was for him, too. Just see the advantages to which it has led; look at the education I have given him; he can ride to hounds better than many grooms twice his age, and bring you a second horse just at the nick of time when you want it in a long run, as fresh with that feather weight on its back, as if it had only just come out of the stable; he can drive any horse that don't pull too strong for him, as well as I can myself; he can brew milk punch better than a College Don, and drink it like an undergraduate; he can use his fists as handily as Ben Caunt, or the Master of T- -y, and polish off a boy a head taller than himself in ten minutes, so that his nearest relations would not recognise him; and he won five pounds last year in a Derby sweepstakes, besides taking the long odds with a pork-butcher, and walking into the piggycide to the tune of thirty shillings. No," continued Lawless, who had quite worked himself into a state of excitement, "whatever follies I may have been guilty of, nobody can accuse me of having neglected my duty in regard to that brat's education; and now, after all my solicitude, the young viper goes and spreads reports that a 'scamp,' meaning me, is about to marry your sister! But I'll flay him alive, and put him in

salt afterwards!"

"But, my dear Lawless, out of the host of servants

So saying, he roused the leader by a scientific application of the thong, dashed round the gravelsweep, and brought his horses up to the hall-door in a neat and artist-like manner.

GALLOGLOSSIA.

THIS is an age of corruption. The charge is often made, but never, so far as we have heard, refuted. But let not our readers suppose, from this beginning, that we are coming forward here as moralists or politicians. Sound morality and sound loyalty we trust we shall ever uphold; but we are not about to entertain our readers with casuistry or ethical philosophy; with dissertations on Aristotle, Paley, or Sewell. allow that the corruption we would expose is of very inferior importance to those which such writers would check ;-still it is important too in its way-for the channels of thought and taste cannot be corrupted without a reflex action on the mind and habits of a people.

We

His

John Bull is a strange contrariety. hatred of the French character is proverbial. Even in this, however, he is not without his contradictions. Contempt seems irreconcilable with hatred yet, by some strange intellectual chymistry, John seems to have amalgamated both in his contemplation of French nationality. But his aversion to Gallicism is merely directed to the abstraction; it is, as metaphysicians speak, the substance, not the accidents, which are its object; for every individual peculiarity which constitutes the French character John affects and adores. His cooks and cookery must be French; he has exchanged his kitchen for a cuisine; French dishes enter his banqueting rooms to the tune of "Oh the roast beef of old England!" from his hat to his shoes, his dress must be French; his wife and daughters must learn the fashions at Paris. He must have a Frenchman, called by a French word, to dress him; but, above all, (and this is the point to which we would at present call the attention of our readers,) he must discard his honest, straightforward, manly language, and adopt in its stead the mincing and distorted speech of his neighbours; "that whetstone of the teeth, monotony in wire," as Byron called it, which he hates and despises thoroughly. To such an extent has this corruption proceeded, that we are in danger of losing the language of Shakspeare, Milton, and Dryden-if we have not indeed lost it.

In the 165th number of the Spectator we