Out of my long and painful musings on the
subject, I bethought me of a course to take. I
would go to her and say:

"Listen to this parable: I remember once,
when a member of a phrenological club, a
stupid jest was played off upon the society by
some one presenting us with the cast of a well-
known murderer's skull, and asking for our
interpretations of its development. We gave them
with every care and deliberation; we pointed
out the fatal protuberances of crime, and
indicated the depressions, which showed the absence
of all prudential restraints; we demonstrated all
the evidences of badness that were there, and
proved that, with such a head, a man must have
thought killing no murder. The rejoinder to
our politeness was a small box that arrived by
the mail, labelled,' The original of the cast
forwarded on the 14th.' We opened it, and found
a pumpkin! The foolish jester fancied that he
had cast an indelible stain upon phrenology,
quite forgetting the fact that his pumpkin had
personated a skull which, had it ever existed,
would have presented the characteristics we
gave it." I would say, "Now, madam, make the
application, and say, do you not rather commend
than condemn? are you not more ready to
applaud than upbraid me?"

Second thoughts rather deterred me from
this plan; the figurative line is often dangerous
with elderly people. It is just as likely she
would mistake the whole force of my illustration,
and bluntly say, "I'd beg to remark, sir, I
am not a pumpkin!"

"No. I will not adventure on this path; there
is no need that I should ever meet her again,
or, if I should, we may meet as utter strangers."
This resolve made, I arose boldly, and walked
on towards the house.

His excellency, I learned, was at home, and
had been for some time expecting me. I found
him in his morning-room, in the same costume
and same occupation as on the day before.

"There's the Times," said he, as I entered;
"I shall be ready for you presently;" and worked
away without lifting his head.

Affecting to read, I set myself to regard him
with attention, Vast piles of papers lay around
him on every side; the whole table, and even
the floor at his feet, was littered with them.
"Would," thought I—"would that these writers
for the Radical press, these scurrilous penny-a-
liners who inveigh against a bloated and
pampered aristocracy, could just witness the daily
life of labour of one of these spoiled children
of fortune. Here is this man, doubtless reared
in ease and affluence, and see him how he toils
away, from sundown to dawn, unravelling the
schemes, tracing the wiles, and exposing the
snares of these crafty foreigners. Hark! he is
muttering over the subtle sentence he has just
written: 'I am much grieved about Maria's
little girl, but I hope she will escape being
marked by the malady.'" A groan that broke
from me here startled him, and he looked
up:

"Ah! yes, by the way, I want you, Paynter."

"I am not Paynter, your excellency. My
name is——"

"Of course, you have your own name, for
your own peculiar set; but don't interrupt. I
have a special service for you, and will put
it in the 'extraordinaries.' I have taken a
little villa on the Lake of Como for my sister,
but from the pressure of political events I
am not able to accompany her there. She
is a very timid traveller, and cannot possibly
go alone. You'll take charge of her, therefore,
Paynter—there, don't be fussy—you'll take
charge of her, and a young lady who is with
her, and you'll see them housed and established
there. I suppose she will prefer to travel slowly,
some thirty miles or so a day, post-horses always,
and strictly avoiding railroads; but you can
talk it over together yourselves. There was a
Bobus to have come out——"

"A Bobus!"

"I mean a doctor—I call every doctor,
Bobus—but something has detained him, or,
indeed, I believe he was drowned; at all events,
he's not come, and you'll have to learn how to
measure out ether, and drop morphine;—the
"companion" will help you. And keep an
account of your expenses, Paynter—your own
expenses for F.O.—and don't let her fall sick at
any out-of-the-way place, which she has rather
a knack of doing; and, above all, don't telegraph
on any account. Come and dine—six."

"If you will excuse me at dinner, I shall be
obliged. I have a sort of half engagement."

"Come in about nine, then," said he, "for
she'd like to talk over some matters. Look out
for a carriage, too; I don't fancy giving mine
if you can get another. One of those great
roomy German things with a cabriolet front, if
possible, for Miss—I forget her name—would
prefer a place outside. Kramm, the landlord, can
help you to search for one; and let it be dusted,
and aired, and fumigated, and the drag examined,
and the axles greased—in a word, have your
brains about you, Paynter. Good-by." Exit
as before.

OUR ROMAN INN.

OUR inn is eligibly situated; for it is barely ten
doors down Conductor-street, and not so much
as ten seconds' easy walking from Spanish Place.
When the sun shines out brightly, from no
district does it get its rays reflected back so
cheerfully and with such abundant interest.
The hum and hurly-burly of Saxon voices passing
by, mounts to our windows, for we are in
the heart of the English pale. The welcome
familiar tones of Smith greeting Smith on the
highway, is borne in to us and maketh the heart
glad. The jocund cracking of whips and rolling
of wheels let us know that Smith and company
—wife, daughters, and general redundant
offspring, red book in hand—are being borne by.
Coming out from our scarlet chamber, upon the
long balcony which is part of our domain—a feat
I indulge in pretty often—I look up to the left,
where is a bright snatch of Spanish Place, and