upon one another to see each other's faults, or the faults of our vitiated society. I am not a Cato, or a Cassius, but neither am I made to bend in awe of such a thing as I myself.' I therefore keep all usurped superiority at a distance, and hold all expression of it insulting."

"But I have heard you say," said I, “that Lord Rockville was even your schoolfellow."

"Yes; and he once, and once only, actually asked me to dinner, and, as I had no reason to expect such a thing, I own I was pleased. But, would you believe it? I found it was only to fill a place at his table, made vacant by the sudden failure of another guest. The shortness of the notice, and my meeting him casually in the street, might have told me this, but I was a fool, and did not immediately observe it. However, I duly appreciated it, and resolved never to go again."

"He asked you then again, and you refused? "Why no, I cannot say that; but I would have refused, had he invited me."

This recurrence to what I knew was his dominant feeling at college shewed me that it had never quitted him during our separation; but I, as usual, combated it.

"Poor Lord Rockville!" said I. "I cannot help thinking this a little hard; that because a man, who, you say yourself, owes you no civility at all, paid you some little of what he did not owe, he is

therefore to be called proud and insulting! Why not accept of good when it is offered, because it happens not to be more good than we have a right to ? You remember our fellow-collegian Sweetland. See how he has got on."

“I beseech you," cried Testwood sternly, “affront me not by so nauseating an example. Poor as I comparatively am, I would not exchange lots with Sweetland for all that he calls honour. He 'cannot dig,' but to beg he is not ashamed;' and though he has turned his begging to account, he is still the beggar, still the sycophant he always was-in short, the dependant though successful tool of an ambition (silly in itself), to be tolerated by fine people, who would not care a farthing if he were hanged."

وو

"Are you not too hard upon him? asked I. "I allow his nonsense, and his love for the honourables, and the Lady Marys, to whose notice he could not originally have pretended. But is it more than justice to say, that they are the sort of people, whom, without their titles or finery, he would have sought for as his companions? How then can we blame him?”

All the answer I could get to this was- ،، The fellow avoided me once, because he was riding with a duke, and I on foot. Are such things to be borne ?"

"Are you sure of your because ?" said I.

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Might he not have been so occupied as not to have seen you ?

"Yes; occupied, I say, with a duke, whose tool he is. Psha! It is too ridiculous to defend him. Pass to any other subject."

Seeing he grew angry, to appease him, I answered, "You are at least safe in this new residence you have chosen, and escape the heart-burnings you have experienced."

But here also I failed; for, like other people who have weaknesses of which they do not wish to be reminded, he is extremely jealous of being thought jealous.

"I have no heart-burnings," said he, “and never had; and to say so, only makes you out one of those 'd-d good-natured friends,' always on the quest for faults, under pretence of curing them."

I found I had received my quietus, and henceforward gave up my intention to reclaim him.

CHAPTER IX.

A MAN OF

OF

QUALITY NONDESCRIPT.-MORE GRANVILLE AND LADY HUNGERFORD.WITH THE LATTER I HAVE AN INTERESTING INTERVIEW. OF THE FEELING SHE DISPLAYED, AND OF THE MYSTERY WHICH ACCOMPANIED IT.

If I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give him some good counsel.

I am he who was so love-shaked;

I pray you tell me your remedy.

SHAKSPEARE.-As You Like It.

THE heroes of my last chapter have too long detained me from persons of more consequence to my own heart and mind. For such a friend as Granville, I have neglected the mention of him too long. He came to me often, and did me much good in polishing off Oxford rust, and putting me au fait of things and characters which were quite

new to me.

I rewarded him by talking to him, and allowing him to talk to me, of Lady Hungerford. In this

I had a fellow-feeling, for it was evident he loved that superior person both with fondness and admiration, yet with very little hope, even had he been in circumstances to address her.

When I combated this, and observed upon the complacency with which she always spoke to, and of him, he would shake his head, and say, it was merely her good-nature towards a person who she could not help seeing was her slave.

"For," said he, " with a thousand in her train, I acquit her of all coquetry. I only wish her nature was not so kind. Could I think myself illused, as you once said in regard to Bertha, I possibly might get free. You have, however, got free without ill-usage.”

"If I have done so," returned I, with a sigh, "it has been from despair; but you have shewn me no reason why you should despair. You have at least never been dismissed."

"I have never been delirious," answered he, smiling, "in the presence of a waiting gentle

This produced much talk both of Bertha and Lady Hungerford, in which Granville owned to me that his hopes, or rather his feelings (for hopes he had none), were as chimerical as mine had been for Bertha.

"Who

"That fatal winter at Paris!" said he. could see her, the admired, par excellence, for