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