chance; so when Dick began to grow as big as a porpus, I got an old friend of mine, who lives in Derbyshire, close to the Devil's Umph! close to the Peak, to take Dick 'prentice at half-price. He's just now out of his time, and, I warrant him, as wild and rough as a rock. Now, if you, doctor-if you would but take him in hand, and soften him a bit

Pan. Pray, my lord-" To soften rocks." Congreve. -Hem! Pray, my lord, what profession may the Honourable Mr. Dowlas have followed?

Dub. Who-Dick? He has served his clerkship to an attorney at Castleton.

Pan. An attorney! Gentlemen of his profession, my lord, are very difficult to soften.

Dub. Yes; but the pay may make it worth while. I'm told that my Lord Spindle gives his eldest son, Master Drumstick's tutorer, three hundred a year; and, besides learning his pupil, he has to read my lord to sleep of an afternoon, and walk out with the lapdogs and children. Now, if three hundred a year, doctor, will do the business for Dick, I shan't begrudge

it you.

Pan. Three hundred a year! Say no more, my lord! LL.D., A double S, and three hundred a year! I accept the office. "Verbum sat." Horace. -Hem! I'll run to my lodgings-settle with Mrs. Sudds-put my wardrobe into a—No, I've got it all on-and[Going: Dub. Hold! hold! not so hasty, doctor; I must first send you for Dick to the Blue Boar.

Pan. The Honourable Mr. Dowlas, my pupil, at he Blue Boar!

Dub. Ay, in Holborn. As I an't fond of telling people good news beforehand, for fear they may be baulked, Dick knows nothing of my being made a lord.

Pan. Three hundred a year!

"I've often wish'd that I had clear,

For life, six-" (No-three!)" three hundred-" Dub. I wrote him just afore I left Gosport to tell him to meet me in London with—

Pan. "Three hundred pounds a-year." Swift.— Hem!

Dub. With all speed upon business; d'ye mind me? Pan. Doctor Pangloss with an income of—No lapdogs, my lord?

Dub. Nay, but listen, doctor: and as I didn't know where old Ferret was to make me live in London, I told Dick to be at the Blue Boar this morning by the stage-coach. Why, you don't hear what I'm talking about, doctor.

Pan. Oh, perfectly, my lord. [Aside.] Three hundred-Blue Boars-in a stage-coach!

Dub. Well, step into my room, doctor, and I'll give you a letter which you shall carry to the inn, and bring Dick away with you. I warrant the boy will be ready to jump out of his skin.

Pan. Skin! jump!-Zounds! I'm ready to jump out of mine! I follow your lordship. Oh, Doctor Pangloss! where is your philosophy now? I attend you, my lord. "Equam memento-" Horace !

"Servare mentem-" Hem! Bless me, I'm all in a fluster! LL.D., A double S, and three hundred -I attend your lordship!

SCENES FROM "THE PATRICIAN'S

DAUGHTER."

BY WESTLAND MARSTON.

MORDAUNT. THE EARL OF LYNTERNE. A SERVANT. LADY LYDIA. LADY MABEL.

Enter MORDAUNT.

Mor. How beautiful are all things when we love! She I love is human; and through nature's wide extent All that is human, for her sake, I love.

Our planet earth is her abode; for her sake I love earth,
And for earth's sake, love all that earth contains.
O, it is great, and wise, and good to love!
What joy it is to love! And loves she me ?
She listens to my words, and seldom speaks.
First it was otherwise; her repartee,
Quick wit, and lively sallies flashed all day;
Her answers now are few and brief, as though
The task of ordering her thoughts for speech
Woke her from blissful dreams; my soul itself
Seemed suffused in her presence; bathed in light,
As plants beneath the solemn, tender moon,
Which gilds their life with beauty, as she mine,
And joys in heaven to see their silvered leaves,
Unknowing 't is her smile that makes their brightness,
Which fades from earth whene'er she wanes in heaven.

Enter LADY LYDIA.

A cloud comes over mine. Lo! Lady Lydia!
I trust you find the evening breeze refresh you.
Lyd. A debtor to your wishes, sir! I thank you.
[Crosses.

[Aside] I'll not delay, for opportunity,
Once slighted, oft escapes. When do you leave us?
Mor. Shortly. Perhaps within a week or two,
Provided for that time my sojourn prove

No inconvenience here.

Lyd. I fear it will.

Mor. Had I thought so, you had not seen me now. Lyd. I will be plain, sir.

Plainness is always the best courtesy,

Where truths are to be told. You still are young, And want not personal grace; your air, your words Are such as captivate. You understand me.

Mor. I do not; for these things most men seek to harbour guests.

Lyd. True, except sometimes,

When they are fathers. You are honourable,

And what has passed will leave us straight.

Mor. I scarcely dare presume to give your words

The nearest meaning.

Lyd. Yet you may do so.

Mor. The Lady Mabel!

Lyd. Yes.

Mor. Looks not on me indifferently.

Lyd. That you will join me in regretting, sir.

Mor. And have you certain warrant for your thoughts?

Lyd. She has confessed it.

Mor. In your hearing?

Lyd. You are minute, I see, and well may doubt, Except on surer witness than surmise,

So strange a tale. Alas! the evidence

Courts sight and touch. I hold it in my hand-
This letter! [MORDAUNT regards her inquiringly.]
Nothing. [As with a sudden impulse.]—I dare
trust your honour.

This letter, then-sweet patience-by my niece
Addressed to me, doth full disclosure bear

Of her hid passion.

Mor. Writ to you?

Lyd. You doubt.

Her lips refused allegiance to her will,

[Showing the address.

[Extending the letter.

Which made her hand its deputy. Behold!

Mor. Her love for me! The glory on the page

Dazzles mine eyes.

Lyd. [Withdrawing it.] Forgive me; 't is too much.

[Tears it.

Thus let the winds disperse the signs of shame;

[Throws it off.

'T would be most happy, were its memory

As easily effaced.

Mor. Your hand hath rent

The record; but your voice transfers its purport

To the more lasting tablet of my heart!

I'll seek her on the instant.

Lyd. [Aside.] That, indeed,

[Going.

Would mar my plan. No; silence is your course: It is most delicate, least painful, too.