where he came from, and the situation of his property; for as yet, it must be remembered, he knew nothing of our friend, save what he had gleaned at Laverick Wells, where certainly all parties concurred in placing him high on the list of ‘desirables,’ while Sponge wanted to talk about hunting, the meets of the hounds, and hear what sort of a man Lord Scamperdale was. So they kept playing at cross-purposes, without either getting much out of the other. Jawleyford’s intimacy with Lord Scamperdale seemed to have diminished with propinquity, for he now no longer talked of him -- ‘Scamperdale this, and Scamperdale that -- Scamperdale, with whom he could do anything he liked;’ but he called him ‘My Lord Scamperdale,’ and spoke of him in a reverent and becoming way. Distance often lends boldness to the tongue, as the poet Campbell says it

Lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.

There are few great men who haven’t a dozen people, at least, who ‘keep them right,’ as they call it. To hear some of the creatures talk, one would fancy a lord was a lunatic as a matter of course.

Spigot at last put an end to their efforts by announcing that ‘tea and coffee were ready!’ just as Mr Sponge buzzed his bottle of port. They then adjourned from the gloom of the large oak-wainscoted dining-room, to the effulgent radiance of the well-lit, highly-gilt drawing-room, where our fair friends had commenced talking Mr Sponge over as soon as they retired from the dining-room.

‘And what do you think of him?’ asked mamma

‘Oh, I think he’s very well,’ replied Emily, gaily.

‘I should say he was very toor-lerable,’ drawled Miss Jawleyford, who reckoned herself rather a judge, and indeed had had some experience of gentlemen.

‘Tolerable, my dear!’ rejoined Mrs Jawleyford, ‘I should say he’s very well -- rather distinguée, indeed.’

‘I shouldn’t say that,’ replied Miss Jawleyford; ‘his height and figure are certainly in his favour, but he isn’t quite my idea of a gentleman. He is evidently on good terms with himself; but I should say, if it wasn’t for his forwardness, he’d be awkward and uneasy.’

‘He’s a foxhunter, you know,’ observed Emily.

‘Well, but I don’t know that that should make him different to other people,’ rejoined her sister. ‘Captain Curzon, and Mr Lancaster, and Mr Preston, were all foxhunters; but they didn’t stare, and blurt, and kick their legs about, as this man does.’

‘Oh, you are so fastidious!’ rejoined her mamma; ‘you must take men as you find them.’

‘I wonder where he lives?’ observed Emily, who was quite ready to take our friend as he was.

‘I wonder where he does live?’ chimed in Mrs Jawleyford, for the suddenness of the descent had given them no time for enquiry.

‘Somebody said Manchester,’ observed Miss Jawleyford, drily.

‘So much the better,’ observed Mrs Jawleyford, ‘for then he is sure to have plenty of money.’

‘Law, ma! but you don’t s’pose pa would ever allow such a thing,’ retorted Miss, recollecting her papa’s frequent exhortations to them to look high.

‘If he’s a landowner,’ observed Mrs Jawleyford, ‘we’ll soon find him out in Burke. Emily, my dear,’ added she, ‘just go into your pa’s room, and bring me the ‘‘Commoners’’ -- you’ll find it on the large table, between the ‘‘Peerage’’ and the ‘‘Wellington Despatches.’’ ’