thought he could set up a Photographiatous
Emporium:—and, under limits, the plan was not
a baseless dream; for my connexion could have
been of unfeigned utility, had it been resorted
to, without unpleasantry on the mutual sides. I
named him in many of the families where we visit
as a persevering young man, who would sift his
way, and be moderate in point of expectancy.
When a thunderbolt fell, as I am going to
acquaint you;—being satisfied that you and me
are one in point of privacy being privatiousness,
unless the opposite is agreed on, by way of
centre of operations.

Mings, by way of overture, thought he could
not do better than commencing among his own
natural connextions;—and so one fine day, lo and
behold down our area steps I see him come;—
and he set up his apparatious in Mr. Clover's
pantry. Mr. Clover, sir, is our butler, but was
apart with some of the family at Frum Court. In
his absence, I promote unlimited discretion. So
I shows Mings, as due to a cousin, one or two
little things—having the keys of the plate
chests—one was The Apollo in silver, which
Miss Mary says is the very model of me—"but
these," I said, with explicitude, "are shown to a
private connextion, and not purposed for the
inquiring gaze of the hollow-hearted world." "I
hope," was my cousin's reply, "I know how to
avide what is avidable." "Above all," I said to
him, "that Tankard is sacred;" and I did not say it
without suspicious reasons, that Tancred having
a family ancestry which derives its pedigree from
the origin of Queen Bloody Mary—though it
was devolved from obscurity by the second Earl
of our name, in a broker's shop at Lyons in
France, among other productions acquired from
needy families.—That Tancred has never been
exhibited save beneath choice circumstances—
as, for instance, when the Royal Duchess
complimented us at lunch,—and "My lord," says
she to my Lord, "that is a gem of plate." Well,
sir, before I could cope with my cousin, or
dissipate his preventions, the portraiture of that
Tankard was effectuated. Once they gets under
that hood—them practitioners—what can defeat
such? Sir, our Tankord was as good as out of
our house—and in his frame—and its privacies
was requested, by way of secret view, by Artful
Commissioners of Extraordinary Productions,
in so many letters to my Lord—that my Lord, he
had to enter into interrogations with Mr. Clover
when they came back to town; for my Lord is
aversely addicted to publication, and it may be
for years, it may be for ever, of that Tankrod.

But, sir, this was only the initative act of my
cousin's illicit proceedings. Having come over
our Tankard, though I did not dream of such
cupidity, sir, next Mings he eyes me, and I
says to him, "Mings, you are not, I hope,
a-going to make a show, or a shop, of any of
the parties, male, female, or neuter, within the
circuit of my capacity."—"Timothy," replied
my cousin, "how could I otherwise than scorn
it? Only, you looks so lovely, I am incapable
to resist:—and I never sees a Spanish patriot
and imposter if you are not that being." And
he whips out my hankercher, and he knots it
over my eyebrows, and he bids me remember
the intruders of my country—and so I poseyed
myself. I never see my hankercher again, for
I was called up-stairs of a suddenty; and when
I came down again I forgot to ask him for it,
because he said he would come back to supper
and photographicise Miss Mary.

And, sir, he did come back to supper—
because it is not a light meal that contents them
artists. And I recollect the occasion peculiarly,
Miss Mary (I beg leave to explain, the attendant
of our eldest female scion)—left in the
London house by an adverse destiny—and I,
we were just a-trying, in the hall, that sweet
new polka, which had been introduced at the
Opera theater two evenings antecedent—and
Mings, when he saw us unexpected, says Mings,
"Hallo! this is sweet! This his high art!"—
and his apparatious (with some lamplight, as I
think must have been a humbug, but I am not
sure, because I never demeaned myself to the
lamp sphere) was out in the twinkling of a eye,
and there we was, Miss Mary and me, in
jocund, but truly correct, considering our
respective attitudes. And three days later, sir,
Miss Mary and me was in my cousin's frame,
as elucidations of my Lord's unlucky Tankurd.
Bacchus and Ariadne it was we were styled:
and Miss Mary was displeased with the
Bacchus, and I was equally the same with Ariadne:
because modern friends in their garments is one
imputation, and Pagan Divinities is another.

Well, sir, when the family comes up to town
the first day, all passed off, and we was as
comfortable as usual, save for Mr. Clover's gout,
which do make him suspicatious. And I had
not the very remotest intention of my cousin's
photogratactories redounding in our sphere,
not being aware of the frame.—But, as I said,
the Artful Commissioners of Extraordinary
Plate Curiosities summoned my Lord so soon as
he come up, with a view to a loan for the public
good: since, it was asked, wherefore should
a Tankred like ours

      Waste its sweetness on the desert air?

Now, my Lord has no objextion to showing
obligations, but he do not like to be captivated
by force; and so, having ascertained the
communications by which the Tankerd had been
elicited into publication, he took his measures
according. And these were them:

He rings. It is not my deportment to answer
his Lordship's bell, and the adequate person went
up. But, coming down,—"Timothy," says the
party (whom I will die rather than first betray,
having suffered ever so deeply by my cousin),
"my Lord is in a blazing passion, and will see
you on the spot."

Now, my Lord,—as fashionable London is
aware—has his tempers: and threw his boots
that very identical night at Mr. Mattocks (the
valet as passed from ours into a noble Russian
service). Not that I wish to throw the boots
by way of retaliation against my Lord. Respective
circumstances being what they will—