would not have been much flattered had they heard the old gentleman's comments on their respective characters, and on the characters of their parties. He took up the cards one after another, and looked them all over, giving a cynical sneer as he surveyed them, and talking rather to himself than to his daughter, who did not know the parties, he muttered:

"Lady B. is a great simpleton. I wonder how she contrives to fill her rooms. Shan't let my daughter be seen in such company. Countess of C.! Never saw such a vulgar woman. Talks one to death; asks the same question ten times. Lady D.—I don't like Lady D. Very impertinent woman: only invites my family to make a show of them. She'll stare poor little Clara quite out of countenance. Stay, stop, Sampson, Sampson! Oh, let me see! the soap-boiler; ay, he is a quiet sensible man; gives a good dinner now and then: great fool though to be knighted; but that was his wife's doing."

This grumbling, muttering soliloquy was carried to a much greater length than we have thought it necessary to relate; and it at length terminated in the resolution that, passing by the parties of those of higher rank, he would take his family to be amused at the expense of Sir Gilbert Sampson, and his over-decorated daughter. Philip Martindale was, of course, ordered to attend them. It would have better suited his inclinations had his unaccountable cousin fixed upon some one of higher rank; but as it might yet be convenient for the honorable gentleman to use the earnings of Sir Gilbert Sampson for the liquidation of claims on the Martindale estate, he yielded with a tolerably good grace. In good truth he could not help himself; his rank must be supported by some means or other, and at present he had not any other than the liberality, such as it was, of old John Martindale. That ingenious old gentleman was cunning enough to know that the best mode of insuring gratitude is to engage it prospectively: for he had lived long enough in the world to see that men are more thankful for favors that are to be, than for those that have been. He therefore kept his cousin in a state of humble dependence by keeping him in a state of expectation. He knew that he had him thoroughly in his power when the offer of Brigland Abbey was accepted, and when the young gentleman relinquished his legal studies, and took to living like a lord. When, however, a new interest and a new set of favorites sprung up in the family of Colonel Rivolta, the old gentleman cared less for his honorable cousin, and very readily accepted his resignation of the great house. But the very acceptance of the Abbey in the first instance, and the habits which it had created destroyed all means and power of independence on the part of Philip, and he was thus left at the mercy of his feeders for the time being. He was, therefore, under an unavoidable necessity of complying with the invitation.

A great, large, noisy, tumultuous, promiscuous, crowding, crushing, perfumed, feathered, flowered, painted, gabbling, sneering, idle, gossiping, rest-breaking, horse-killing, pannel-breaking, supper-scrambling evening-party is much better imagined than described, for the description is not worth the time of writing or reading it. It was very presumptuous of Sir Gilbert Sampson thus to ape his betters. Pity it is that no sumptuary laws are passed in this legislating age to prevent all persons of inferior rank from imitating so closely the manners of the higher orders. It should be ordained that all those who can remember by what means and at what time their wealth was acquired should be considered as people of yesterday, and be prohibited from having any party beyond a certain number. We do not, however, assert that the soap-boiler's evening-party was extraordinarily large, or at all equalling some parties which are collected at the mansions of higher people; but it was as large as it possibly could be, and Miss Sampson had contrived to send out the invitations, so that the number of carriages was great in proportion to the party.

Miss Sampsom among the splendid was the most splendid; and had there been no looking-glasses in the rooms for the good people to enjoy the sight of their own dear selves, her splendor would have fixed the gaze of every eye in the apartments. Miss Sampson addressed Colonel Rivolta in Italian; but the Colonel, either from politeness or because he could not understand her, requested permission to use the language of the country in which he was residing; for it was his opinion that it was most suitable that the Italians should speak English in England, and that the English should speak Italian in Italy. Miss Sampson was going to say that the Italian language was as familiar to her as the English, but she thought that was going too far. Signora Rivolta was much astonished at the magnificence of the house, and at the number and decorations of the guests. Fancying that she must be in an assemblage of English nobility of the highest rank, and wishing to be familiar with their names, she interrogated Miss Sampson, who was disposed to be very communicative, as to the names, rank, title and honors of several individuals to whom she directed Miss Sampson's attention. Some of these Miss Sampson did not know, and therefore could not tell their names; and unfortunately some of them she did know, and therefore would not tell their names; lest being urged to be more descriptive and particular, she should betray to the Signora that her visitors were not all of them persons of rank. It is very true, and we are ashamed almost to acknowledge the truth, that there are to be found most serious manifestations and displays of the pride of rank even among those who have no rank to be proud of. And Miss Sampson was more pleased with her papa's knighthood, the only thing that made him ridiculous, than with his commercial success and his own natural good sense and good understanding. But still Miss Sampson was a good-humored, kind-hearted creature: this Signora Rivolta soon discerned; but she did also as soon discern that the young lady was a simpleton. Had the Signora required farther corroboration of her suspicions, that corroboration was abundantly given when the Hon. Philip, after lounging about from one drawing-room to another, and vainly looking for some one to whom he might vouchsafe the patronage and condescension of his honorable notice, presented himself to Miss Sampson. With a most pompous obsequiousness, if our readers know what that means, did the young lady receive the notice of and enter into conversation with the honorable gentleman. She repeated his name in every sentence she uttered, and talked very long and very loudly of Lord and Lady Martindale.

Signora Rivolta, to whom a crowded party was a novelty and a matter of curiosity, employed herself in observing the individuals that composed it; and it puzzled her much to divine the purpose for which they were assembled. And as Miss Sampson was talking very earnestly and attentively to Mr. Philip Martindale, the Signora left her, and went in search of old Mr. Martindale, whom she found very much out of humor at being out of breath in walking about in a few crowded rooms among a set of people of whom he knew nothing. Poor little Clara was quite as tired, and was very much disgusted at the rude manner in which some great boys had stared at her. The carriage, however, had been ordered at a certain hour, and it was absolutely necessary that the party should remain till that hour, and support their troubles as well as they could.

While Mr. Philip Martindale and Miss Sampson were sitting on the same sofa, and