into the remote perspective of Asia. Long may
he remain there!

The trifling responsibility of finding a name
for our talented Magdalen to perform under, has
been cast on my shoulders. She feels no interest
whatever in this part of the subject. "Give me
any name you like," she said; "I have as much
right to one as to another. Make it yourself."
I have readily consented to gratify her wishes.
The resources of my commercial library include
a list of useful names to assume; and we can
choose one at five minutes' notice, when the admirable
man of business who now oppresses us
is ready to issue his advertisements. On this
point my mind is easy enough: all my anxieties
centre in the fair performer. I have not the
least doubt she will do wonders if she is only
left to herself on the first night. But if the
day's post is mischievous enough to upset her,
by a letter from her sister, I tremble for the
consequences.

IV.
[Chronicle for December. Second Fortnight]

My gifted relative has made her first appearance
in public, and has laid the foundation of our
future fortunes.

On the first night, the attendance was larger than
I had ventured to hope. The novelty of an evening's
entertainment, conducted from beginning to
end by the unaided exertions of a young lady (see
advertisement) roused the public curiosity, and
the seats were moderately well filled. As good
luck would have it, no letter addressed to Miss
Vanstone came that day. She was in full possession
of herself, until she got the first dress on, and
heard the bell ring for the music. At that critical
moment she suddenly broke down. I found her alone
in the waiting-room, sobbing, and talking like a
child. "Oh, poor papa! poor papa! Oh, my
God, if he saw me now!" My experience in such
matters at once informed me that it was a case
for sal-volatile, accompanied by sound advice.
We strung her up, in no time, to concert pitch;
set her eyes in a blaze; and made her out-blush
her own rouge. The curtain rose when we had
got her at a red heat. She dashed at it, exactly
as she dashed at it in the back drawing-room at
Rosemary-lane. Her personal appearance settled
the question of her reception before she opened
her lips. She rushed full gallop through her
changes of character, her songs, and her dialogue;
making mistakes by the dozen, and never
stopping to set them right; carrying the people
along with her in a perfect whirlwind, and never
waiting for the applause. The whole thing was
over twenty minutes sooner than the time we had
calculated on. She carried it through to the
end; and fainted on the waiting-room sofa,
a minute after the curtain was down. The
music-seller having taken leave of his senses
from sheer astonishment; and I having no evening
costume to appear in—we sent the doctor to
make the necessary apology to the public, who
were calling for her till the place rang again. I
prompted our medical orator with a neat speech
from behind the curtain; and I never heard such
applause, from such a comparatively small audience,
before in my life. I felt the tribute—I felt
it deeply. Fourteen years ago I scraped together
the wretched means of existence, in this
very town, by reading the newspaper (with
explanatory comments) to the company at a public-house.
And now, here I am at the top of the tree.

It is needless to say that my first proceeding
was to bowl out the music-seller on the spot.
He called the next morning, no doubt with a
liberal proposal for extending the engagement
beyond Derby and Nottingham. My niece was
described as not well enough to see him; and,
when he asked for me, he was told I was not up.
I happened to be, at that moment, engaged in
putting the case pathetically to our gifted
Magdalen. Her answer was in the highest degree
satisfactory. She would permanently engage
herself to nobody—least of all to a man who
had taken sordid advantage of her position and
mine. She would be her own mistress, and
share the profits with me, while she wanted
money, and while it suited her to go on. So
far so good! But the reason she added next, for
her flattering preference of myself, was less to
my taste. "The music-seller is not the man
whom I employ to make my inquiries," she said.
"You are the man." I don't like her steadily
remembering those inquiries, in the first bewilderment
of her success. It looks ill for the future;
it looks infernally ill for the future.

V.
[Chronicle for January, 1847.]

She has shown the cloven foot already. I
begin to be a little afraid of her.

On the conclusion of the Nottingham engagement
(the results of which more than equalled
the results at Derby), I proposed taking the
entertainment next—now we had got it into our
own hands—to Newark. Miss Vanstone raised no
objection, until we came to the question of time,
when she amazed me by stipulating for a week's
delay, before we appeared in public again.

"For what possible purpose?" I asked.

"For the purpose of making the inquiries
which I mentioned to you at York," she
answered.

I instantly enlarged on the danger of delay;
putting all the considerations before her in every
imaginable form. She remained perfectly
immovable. I tried to shake her on the question of
expenses. She answered by handing me over
her share of the proceeds at Derby and
Nottingham—and there were my expenses paid, at
the rate of nearly two guineas a day. I wonder
who first picked out a mule as the type of
obstinacy? How little knowledge that man must
have had of women!

There was no help for it. I took down my
instructions in black and white, as usual. My
first exertions were to be directed to the
discovery of Mr. Michael Vanstone's address: I
was also expected to find out how long he was
likely to live there, and whether he had sold