come to the door. The Twysdens, father and son, were of this canine species: and

  there are vast packs of such dogs here and elsewhere.

  If Philip opened his heart to us, and talked unreservedly regarding his hopes

  and his plans, you may be sure he had his little friend, Mrs. Brandon, also in

  his confidence, and that no person in the world was more eager to serve him.

  Whilst we were talking about what was to be done, this little lady was also at

  work in her favourite's behalf. She had a firm ally in Mrs. Mugford, the

  proprietor's lady of the Pall Mall Gazette. Mrs. Mugford had long been

  interested in Philip, his misfortunes and his love affairs. These two good women

  had made a sentimental hero of him. Ah! that they could devise some feasible

  scheme to help him! And such a chance actually did very soon present itself to

  these delighted women.

  In almost all the papers of the new year appeared a brilliant advertisement,

  announcing the speedy appearance in Dublin of a new paper. It was to be called

  The Shamrock, and its first number was to be issued on the ensuing St. Patrick's

  day. I need not quote at length the advertisement which heralded the advent of

  this new periodical. The most famous pens of the national party in Ireland were,

  of course, engaged to contribute to its columns. Those pens would be hammered

  into steel of a different shape when the opportunity should offer. Beloved

  prelates, authors of world-wide fame, bards, the bold strings of whose lyres had

  rung through the isle already, and made millions of noble hearts to beat, and,

  by consequence, double the number of eyes to fill; philosophers, renowned for

  science; and illustrious advocates, whose manly voices had ever spoken the

  language of hope and freedom to an would be found rallying round the journal,

  and proud to wear the symbol of The Shamrock. Finally, Michael Cassidy, Esq.,

  was chosen to be the editor of this new journal.

  This was the M. Cassidy, Esq., who appeared, I think, at Mr. Firmin's

  call-supper; and who had long been the sub-editor of the Pall Mall Gazette. If

  Michael went to Dame Street, why should not Philip be sub-editor at Pall Mall?

  Mrs. Brandon argued. Of course there would be a score of candidates for

  Michael's office. The editor would like the patronage. Barnet, Mugford's partner

  in the Gazette, would wish to appoint his man. Cassidy, before retiring, would

  assuredly intimate his approaching resignation to scores of gentlemen of his

  nation, who would not object to take the Saxon's pay until they finally shook

  his yoke off, and would eat his bread until the happy moment arrived when they

  could knock out his brains in fair battle. As soon as Mrs. Brandon heard of the

  vacant place, that moment she determined that Philip should have it. It was

  surprising what a quantity of information our little friend possessed about

  artists, and pressmen, and their lives, families, ways and mean. Many gentlemen

  of both professions came to Mr. Ridley's chambers, and called on the Little

  Sister on their way to and fro. How Tom Smith had left the Herald, and gone to

  the Post: what price Jack Jones had for his picture, and who sat for the

  principal figures.??I promise you Madam Brandon had all these interesting

  details by heart; and I think I have described this little person very

  inadequately if I have not made you understand that she was as intrepid a little

  jobber as ever lived, and never scrupled to go any length to serve a friend. To

  be Archbishop of Canterbury, to be professor of Hebrew, to be teacher of a

  dancing-school, to be organist for a church: for any conceivable place or

  function this little person would have asserted Philip's capability. "Don't tell

  me! He can dance or preach (as the case may be), or write beautiful! And as for

  being unfit to be a sub-editor, I want to know, has he not as good a head and as

  good an education as that Cassidy, indeed? And is not Cambridge College the best

  college in the world? It is, I say. And he went there ever so long. And he might

  have taken the very best prize, only money was no object to him then, dear

  fellow, and he did not like to keep the poor out of what he didn't want!"

  Mrs. Mugford had always considered the young man as very haughty, but quite the

  gentleman, and speedily was infected by her gossip's enthusiasm about him. My

  wife hired a fly, packed several of the children into it, called upon Mrs.

  Mugford, and chose to be delighted with that lady's garden, with that lady's

  nursery??with everything that bore the name of Mugford. It was a curiosity to

  remark in what a flurry of excitement these women plunged, and how they schemed,

  and coaxed, and caballed, in order to get this place for their prot?g?. My wife

  thought??she merely happened to surmise: nothing more, of course??that Mrs.

  Mugford's fond desire was to shine in the world. "Could we not ask some

  people??with??with what you call handles to their names,??I think I before heard

  you use some such term, sir,??to meet the Mugfords? Some of Philip's old

  friends, who I am sure would be very happy to serve him." Some such artifice

  was, I own, practised. We coaxed, cajoled, fondled the Mugfords for Philip's

  sake, and heaven forgive Mrs. Laura her hypocrisy. We had an entertainment then,

  I own. We asked our finest company, and Mr. and Mrs. Mugford to meet them: and

  we prayed that unlucky Philip to be on his best behaviour to all persons who

  were invited to the feast.

  Before my wife this lion of a Firmin was as a lamb. Rough, captious, and

  overbearing in general society, with those whom he loved and esteemed Philip was

  of all men the most modest and humble. He would never tire of playing with our

  children, joining in their games, laughing and roaring at their little sports. I

  have never had such a laugher at my jokes as Philip Firmin. I think my wife

  liked him for that noble guffaw with which he used to salute those pieces of

  wit. He arrived a little late sometimes with his laughing chorus, but ten people

  at table were not so loud as this faithful friend. On the contrary, when those

  people for whom he has no liking venture on a pun or other pleasantry, I am

  bound to own that Philip's acknowledgment of their waggery must be anything but

  pleasant or flattering to them. Now, on occasion of this important dinner, I

  enjoined him to be very kind, and very civil, and very much pleased with

  everybody, and to stamp upon nobody's corns, as indeed, why should he, in life?

  Who was he, to be censor morum? And it has been said that no man could admit his

  own faults with a more engaging candour than our friend.

  We invited, then, Mugford, the proprietor of the Pall Mall Gazette, and his

  wife; and Bickerton, the editor of that periodical; Lord Ascot, Philip's old

  college friend; and one or two more gentlemen. Our invitations to the ladies

  were not so fortunate. Some were engaged, others away in the country keeping

  Christmas. In fine, we considered ourselves rather lucky in securing old Lady

  Hixie, who lives hard by in Westminste, and who will pass for a lady of fashion

  when no person of greater note is present. My wife told her that the object of

&
nbsp; the dinner was to make our friend Firmin acquainted with the editor and

  proprietor of the Pall Mall Gazette, with whom it was important that he should

  be on the most amicable footing. Oh! very well. Lady Hixie promised to be quite

  gracious to the newpaper gentleman and his wife; and kept her promise most

  graciously during the evening. Our good friend Mrs. Mugford was the first of our

  guests to arrive. She drove "in her trap" from her villa in the suburbs; and

  after putting up his carriage at a neighbouring livery-stable, her groom

  volunteered to help our servants in waiting at dinner. His zeal and activity

  were remarkable. China smashed, and dish-covers clanged in the passage. Mrs.

  Mugford said that "Sam was at his old tricks;" and I hope the hostess showed she

  was mistress of herself amidst that fall of china. Mrs. Mugford came before the

  appointed hour, she said, in order to see our children. "With our late London

  dinner hours," she remarked, "children was never seen now." At Hampstead, hers

  always appeared at the dessert, and enlivened the table with their innocent

  outcries for oranges, and struggles for sweetmeats. In the nursery, where one

  little maid, in her crisp, long night-gown, was saying her prayers; where

  another little person, in the most airy costume, was standing before the great

  barred fire; where a third Lilliputian was sitting up in its night-cap and

  surplice, surveying the scene below from its crib;??the ladies found our dear

  Little Sister installed. She had come to see her little pets (she had known two

  or three of them from the very earliest times). She was a great favourite

  amongst them all; and, I believe, conspired with the cook down below in

  preparing certain delicacies for the table. A fine conversation then ensued

  about our children, about the Mugford children, about babies in general. And

  then the artful women (the house mistress and the Little Sister) brought Philip

  on the tapis, and discoursed ? qui mieux, about his virtues, his misfortunes,

  his engagement, and that dear little creature to whom he was betrothed. This

  conversation went on until carriage-wheels were heard in the square, and the

  knocker (there were actually knockers in that old-fashioned place and time)

  began to peal. "Oh, bother! There's the company a-comin'," Mrs. Mugford said;

  and arranging her cap and flounces, with neat-handed Mrs. Brandon's aid, came

  down-stairs, after taking a tender leave of the little people, to whom she sent

  a present next day of a pile of fine Christmas books, which had come to the Pall

  Mall Gazette for review. The kind woman had been coaxed, wheedled, and won over

  to our side, to Philip's side. He had her vote for the sub-editorship, whatever

  might ensue.

  Most of our guests had already arrived, when at length Mrs. Mugford was

  announced. I am bound to say that she presented a remarkable appearance, and

  that the splendour of her attire was such as is seldom beheld.

  Bickerton and Philip were presented to one another, and had a talk about French

  politics before dinner, during which conversation Philip behaved with perfect

  discretion and politeness. Bickerton had happened to hear Philip's letters well

  spoken of??in a good quarter, mind; and his cordiality increased when Lord Ascot

  entered, called Philip by his surname, and entered into a perfectly free

  conversation with him. Old Lady Hixie went into perfectly good society,

  Bickerton condescended to acknowledge. "As for Mrs. Mugford," says he, with a

  glance of wondering compassion at that lady, "of course, I need not tell you

  that she is seen nowhere??nowhere." This said, Mr. Bickerton stepped forward,

  and calmly patronized my wife, gave me a good-natured nod for my own part,

  reminded Lord Ascot that he had had the pleasure of meeting him at Egham; and

  then fixed on Tom Page, of the Bread-and-Butter Office (who, I own, is one of

  our most genteel guests), with whom he entered into a discussion of some

  political matter of that day??I forget what: but the main point was that he

  named two or three leading public men with whom he had discussed the question,

  whatever it might be. He named very great names, and led us to understand that

  with the proprietors of those very great names he was on the most intimate and

  confidential footing. With his owners??with the proprietor of the Pall Mall

  Gazette, he was on the most distant terms, and indeed I am afraid that his

  behaviour to myself and my wife was scarcely respectful. I fancied I saw

  Philip's brow gathering wrinkles as his eye followed this man strutting from one

  person to another, and patronizing each. The dinner was a little late, from some

  reason best known in the lower regions. "I take it," says Bickerton, winking at

  Philip, in a pause of the conversation, "that our good friend and host is not

  much used to giving dinners. The mistress of the house is evidently in a state

  of perturbation." Philip gave such a horrible grimace that the other at first

  thought he was in pain.

  "You, who have lived a good deal with old Ringwood, know what a good dinner is,"

  Bickerton continued, giving Firmin a knowing look.

  "Any dinner is good which is accompanied with such a welcome as I get here,"

  said Philip.

  "Oh! very good people, very good people, of course!" cries Bickerton.

  I need not say he thinks he has perfectly succeeded in adopting the air of a man

  of the world. He went off to Lady Hixie and talked with her about the last great

  party at which he had met her; and then he turned to the host, and remarked that

  my friend, the doctor's son, was a fierce-looking fellow. In five minutes he had

  the good fortune to make himself hated by Mr. Firmin. He walks through the world

  patronizing his betters. "Our good friend is not much used to giving dinners,"

  ??isn't he? I say, what do you mean by continuing to endure this man? Tom Page,

  of the Bread-and-Butter Office, is a well-known diner-out; Lord Ascot is a peer;

  Bickerton, in a pretty loud voice, talked to one or other of these during dinner

  and across the table. He sat next to Mrs. Mugford, but he turned his back on

  that bewildered woman, and never condescended to address a word to her

  personally. "Of course, I understand you, my dear fellow," he said to me when on

  the retreat of the ladies we approached within whispering distance. "You have

  these people at dinner for reasons of state. You have a book coming out, and

  want to have it noticed in the paper. I make a point of keeping these people at

  a distance??the only way of dealing with them, I give you my word."

  Not one offensive word had Philip said to the chief writer of the Pall Mall

  Gazette; and I began to congratulate myself that our dinner would pass without

  any mishap, when some one unluckily happening to praise the wine, a fresh supply

  was ordered. "Very good claret. Who is your wine-merchant? Upon my word I get

  better claret here than I do in Paris??don't you think so, Mr. Fermor? Where do

  you generally dine in Paris?"

  "I generally dine for thirty sous, and three francs on grand days, Mr.

  Beckerton," growls Philip.

  "My name is Bickerton." ("What a vulgar thing
for a fellow to talk about his

  thirty-sous dinners!" murmured my neighbour to me). "Well, there is no

  accounting for tastes. When I go to Paris I dine at the Trois Fr?res. Give me

  the Burgundy at Trois Fr?res."

  "That is because you great leader writers are paid better than poor

  correspondents. I shall be delighted to be able to dine better." And with this

  Mr. Firmin smiles at Mr. Mugford, his master and owner.

  "Nothing so vulgar as talking shop," says Bickerton, rather loud.

  "I am not ashamed of the shop I keep. Are you of yours, Mr. Bickerton?" growls

  Philip.

  "F. had him there," says Mr. Mugford.

  Mr. Bickerton got up from table, turning quite pale. "Do you mean to be

  offensive, sir?" he asked.

  "Offensive, sir? No, sir. Some men are offensive without meaning it. You have

  been several times tonight!" says Lord Philip.

  "I don't see that I am called upon to bear this kind of thing at any man's

  table!" cried Mr. Bickerton. "Lord Ascot, I wish you good-night!"

  "I say, old boy, what's the row about?" asked his lordship. And we were all

  astonished as my guest rose and left the table in great wrath.

  "Serve him right, Firmin, I say!" said Mr. Mugford, again drinking off a glass.

  "Why, don't you know?" says Tom Page. "His father keeps a haberdasher's shop at

  Cambridge, and sent him to Oxford, where he took a good degree."

  And this had come of a dinner of conciliation??a dinner which was to advance

  Philip's interest in life!

  "Hit him again, I say," cried Mugford, whom wine had rendered eloquent. "He's a

  supercilious beast, that Bickerton is, and I hate him, and so does Mrs. M."

  CHAPTER II. NARRATES THAT FAMOUS JOKE ABOUT MISS GRIGSBY.

  For once Philip found that he had offended without giving general offence. In

  the confidence of female intercourse, Mrs. Mugford had already, in her own

  artless but powerful language, confirmed her husband's statement regarding Mr.

  Bickerton, and declared that B. was a beast, and she was only sorry that Mr. F.

  had not hit him a little harder. So different are the opinions which different

  individuals entertain of the same event! I happen to know that Bickerton, on his

  side, went away, averring that we were quarrelsome, underbred people; and that a

  man of any refinement had best avoid that kind of society. He does really and

  seriously believe himself our superior, and will lecture almost any gentleman on

  the art of being one. This assurance is not at all uncommon with your parvenu.

  Proud of his newly-acquired knowledge of the art of exhausting the contents of

  an egg, the well-known little boy of the apologue rushed to impart his knowledge

  to his grandmother, who had been for many years familiar with the process which

  the child had just discovered. Which of us has not met with some such

  instructors? I know men who would be ready to step forward and teach Taglioni

  how to dance, Tom Sayers how to box, or the Chevalier Bayard how to be a

  gentleman. We most of us know such men, and undergo, from time to time, the

  ineffable benefit of their patronage.

  Mugford went away from our little entertainment vowing, by George, that Philip

  shouldn't want for a friend at the proper season; and this proper season very

  speedily arrived. I laughed one day, on going to the Pall Mall Gazette office,

  to find Philip installed in the sub-editor's room, with a provision of scissors,

  wafers, and paste-pots, snipping paragraphs from this paper and that, altering,

  condensing, giving titles, and so forth; and, in a word, in regular harness. The

  three-headed calves, the great prize gooseberries, the old maiden ladies of

  wonderful ages, who at length died in country places??it was wonderful

  (considering his little experience) how Firmin hunted out these. He entered into

  all the spirit of his business. He prided himself on the clever titles which he