myself was favoured with a private view,
and found him to be a man with rich
glossy black moustaches, a sad and dignified
bearing, a grandeur of speech and manner
which he brought from his native Sister
Isle. He at once commanded all suffrages;
a most gentlemanly man, about eighteen
years younger than his lady.

"Ah, indeed! my poor boy! You
wouldn't know him in the house any more
than that fly. You'd never hear, or see,
or know of him. Come in here, Phil, and
speak to the lady—a real lady, mind you!"

Phil, introduced, bows.

"You must make allowance for him; he
is not accustomed to ladies and gentlemen.
Can't you speak up, you big, stupid fellow,
you! You've tongue enough at the meetings."

Notwithstanding this defect, Mr. Bren-
nan made a decided impression—
a harmless creature.

I made protest. I represented that it
was dangerous encouraging outsiders, but
we were only starting in our little boat;
life seemed a yachting excursion, when it
is not worth while bringing a cargo of
wisdom aboard. So we all agreed that
Mr. Phil Brennan was to be taken in.

Things went on smoothly for some time
afterwards, though the unpleasant truth
began to force itself on us both, that Mrs.
Brennan's measure of work was dwindling
every day. She had some extraordinary
charm over her assistants, having the
knack of throwing more and more of her
duties on them. She took a more
commanding tone, and introduced her friend, Mr.
Hocker, of Lupus-street, at least once a day.
She excited a deep feeling of sympathy
through the house by fits of "weakness,"
which she called the "miggerums," and
which affected her with the "lows," and
caused her to rise as late as nine and ten
o'clock. These things I did not like; but,
being aboard the yacht above mentioned, I
was inclined to wait and see what came of
it. The woman's character was really as
inexhaustible as a conjuror's bottle; now
grand, now mean, now in spirits, now
sulky, now full of magnificence as to her
previous condition under the Lupus-street
dispensation, now bewailing with tears the
fatal moment when "she bemeaned herself
by marrying a tailor." This she would
actually do in the presence of the gentleman
himself. Under this dry crust, fires
were smouldering. I had my own opinions
about Mr. Brennan, who paid great
attention to his dress, always wore scrupulous
black, and whom I had once seen walking
with a lady of almost fashionable
exterior. I believe him, in short, to be what
Mrs. Brennan had described another gentleman
of her acquaintance, "a lad."

By-and-bye strange stories came floating
upward from the kitchen, of domestic
differences, arising, it was darkly hinted,
out of Mr. Brennan's habits of pleasure,
to which his personal attributes and
attire were fatal temptations. Yet it was
impossible not to note the absorbing
interest with which he was regarded by the
female household, as a kind of Lothario.
I must own that his bearing, always
collected, grave, and dignified, quite
supported the character. He had the vainqueur
air. Painful altercations were reported as
taking place within the happy and innocent
influence of the close range and hot hearth.
A week's earnings with Messrs. Moses,
known to reach thirty shillings, and not
produced, were assumed to have been spent
in pleasures incompatible with real
connubial happiness.

I must introduce a fresh character; a
tall, gaunt, Sister Islander, in a dirty white
linen jacket, who was considered to be
sufficiently well known for identification
as "Barney." Barney effected an entrance
under pretext of cleaning windows, and
from that time swore himself in as a sort
of retainer. He was ready to do any
kind of a hand's turn to make an honest
penny, glory be to God! He was proud
to put those same hands under our feet.
All he asked was "to be let to come and
go, and sarve us as for nothing." This
Eastern way of putting the thing, somehow
ended in demand at the week's end of sums
that seemed to me quite above the value of
his services. These he was repeatedly
ordered to discontinue; an order which he
put aside by the same fiction of gratuitous
service. He particularly attached himself
to some flowers and shrubs; carrying pails
of water, and trimming them—all as a sort
of faithful and chivalric homage to the
mistress of the mansion, who was quite gained
by him. His wit and stories had gained him
other friends below, so "Poor Barney! he
is such an honest, amusing fellow," was the
invariable answer to any protest. I was
beginning to have serious thoughts as to this
slowly gathering party below, who really
in numbers and personal strength quite
outmatched the slender force up-stairs.
They were growing bolder and more
confident, and all, even the regulars of the
house, seemed to be inspired by the loud