are a man

and beautiful wife of an old and ugly miser, it's mortal, my lord— mortal, it does so affect, so osssify the heart. I've seen many cases," added Crossbone emphatically, resolved to make the most of certainly a very peculiar practice.

"And there is no remedy?" asked St. James, as he placed his palms together and looked keenly in the apothecary's face.

"Why, I've known the worm removed with great success: that is," said the apothecary, returning the look, "when the patient has had every confidence in the practitioner."

"Mr. Crossbone," cried St. James, "you are a man of the world?"

"My lord," answered the apothecary, with a thanksgiving bow, "I am."

Now, when a man pays a man this praise, it happens, say six times out of nine, that the compliment really means this much: "You are a man of the world; that is, you are a shrewd fellow who know all the by-ways and turnings of life: who know that what is called a wrong, a shabbiness, in the pulpit or in the diningroom (before company), is nevertheless not a wrong, not a shabbiness when to be undertaken for a man's especial interest. They are matters to be much abused, until required: to shake the head and make mouths at, until deemed indispensable to our health to swallow." To praise a man for knowing the world, is often to commend him only for his knowledge of its dirty lanes and crooked alleys. Any fool knows the broad paths-the squares of life. And Mr. Crossbone-sagacious person!-took the lord's compliment in its intended sense. He already felt that he was about to be entrusted with a secret, a mission, that might test the lofty knowledge for which he was extolled. Therefore, to clench his lordship's confidence, the apothecary added, “I am, my lord, a man of the world. There are two golden rules of life; I have ever studied them.”

"And these are?"-asked St. James, drawing him on.

"These are, to keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. Your lordship may command me."

"Mr. Crossbone❞—and St. James, motioning the apothecary to a chair, seated himself for serious consultation—“Mr. Crossbone, this Snipeton has deeply injured me."

"I believe him capable of anything, my lord. Sorry am I to say it," said Crossbone, blithely.

"He has wounded the dignity of my family. He has wrested

from us the borough of Liquorish"-Crossbone looked wondrous disgust at the enormity;-"a borough that has been ours, aye, since the Conquest."

"No doubt," cried Crossbone. "He might as well have stolen the family plate."

"Just so.

Now, Mr. Crossbone, I do not pretend to be a whit better than the ordinary run of my fellow-creatures. I must therefore confess 'twould give me some pleasure to be revenged of this money-seller."

"Situated as you are, my lord; wounded as you must be in a most patriotic part, I do not perceive how your lordship can, as a nobleman and a gentleman, do less than take revenge. It is a duty you owe your station-a duty due to society, for whose better example noblemen were made. Revenge, my lord!" cried Crossbone, with a look of devotion.

"The sweeter still the better," said St. James.

66

Right, my lord; very right. Revenge is a magnificent passion, and not to be meddled with in the spirit of a chandler. No trumpery ha'porths of it,-'twould be unworthy of a nobleman."

"Mr. Crossbone, you are a man of great intelligence. A man who ought not to vegetate in the country with dandelion and pimpernel. No, sir: you must be fixed in London. A genius like yours, Mr. Crossbone, is cast away upon bumpkins. We shall yet see you with a gold cane, in your own carriage, Mr. Crossbone.'

And with these words, Lord St. James gently pressed the tips of Crossbone's fingers. The apothecary was wholly subdued by the condescension of his lordship. He sat in a golden cloud, smiling, and looking bashfully grateful. And then his eyes trembled with emotion, and he felt that he should very much like to acknowledge upon his knees the honour unworthily conferred upon him. It would have much comforted him to kneel; nevertheless, with heroic self-denial he kept his seat; and at length in a faint voice said "It isn't for me, your lordship, to speak of my poor merits; your lordship knows best. But this I must say, my lord; I do think I have looked after the weeds of the world quite long enough. I own, it is now my ambition to cultivate the lilies."

"I understand, Mr. Crossbone! Well, I don't know that even the court may not be open to you.'

The vision was too much for the apothecary. He sighed, as though suddenly oppressed by a burthen of delight. In fancy,

he already had his fingers on a royal pulse, whose harmonious. throbbings communicating with his own ennobled anatomy, sweetly troubled his beating heart. However, with the will of a strong man he put down the emotion, and returned to his lordship's business.

"You spoke of revenge, my lord? Upon that wealthy wretch, Snipeton? May I ask what sort of revenge your lordship desires to take?"

"Faith! Mr. Crossbone, my revenge is like Shylock's. I'd take it," said the young gentleman, with a smile of significant bitterness-"I'd take it nearest his heart.'

"Yes, I understand; perfectly, my lord," said Crossbone with new gaiety. "The flesh of his flesh, eh? His wife ?" "His wife," cried St. James passionately.

"Excellent, my lord! Excellent! Ha! ha! ha!" And the apothecary could not resist the spirit of laughter that tickled him; it was so droll to imagine a man-especially an old man-despoiled of his wife." She would be sweet revenge," cried Crossbone, rubbing his hands with an implied relish.

"And practicable, eh?" cried St. James. Crossbone smiled again, and rubbed his hands with renewed pleasure, nodding the while. "He has carried her from Dovesnest; buried her somewhere; for this much I know—she is not at his house in the city."

"I know all, my lord; all. I have received a letter-here it is"-and Crossbone gave the missive to St. James: "you see, he writes me that she is ill-very ill-and as he has great faith in my knowledge-for there is no man without some good point, let's hope that in my knowledge of her constitution, he desires me to come and see her. I've arrived this very morning in London. I was going direct to him; but-surely there's providence in it, my lord-but something told me to come and see you first.'

"And I am delighted," said St. James, "that you gave ear to the good genius. You'll assist me?"

"My lord," said Crossbone solemnly, "I have, I hope, a proper respect for the rights of birth and the institutions of my country. And I have always, my lord, considered politics as nothing more than enlarged morals.

"Thank you for the apophthegm"-said the flattering St. James. "May I use it in parliament when I get there?"

Oh, my lord!" simpered Crossbone, and continued. "Enlarged morals. Now, this man Snipeton, in opposing your lordship

You can't touch him through his money.

No: 'tis

for Liquorish, in bringing in a muffin-maker over your noble head -all the town is ringing with it-has, I conceive, violated wholesale morality, and should be punished accordingly. But how punished? his coat of mail. He's what I call a golden crocodile, my lord, with but one tender place--and that 's his wife. Then strike him there, and you punish him for his presumption, and revenge the disgrace he has put upon your family."

"Exactly," said St. James, a little impatient of the apothecary's morals. 66 But, my good sir, do you know where the lady is?' "No. But I shall order her wherever may be most convenient. Would the air of Bath suit you?" asked the apothecary with a leer.

"Excellently-nothing could be better," said St. James. "Bath be it, then. And she must go alone; that is, without that Mrs. Wilton. I don't like that woman. There's a cold that we can do without, my lord." "But how separate them?" asked St. James.

watchfulness about her

"Leave that to me. Well handled, nothing cuts like a sharp lie; it goes at once through heartstrings." St. James passed his hand across his face: he felt his blood had mounted there. "It has often separated flesh of flesh and bone of bone, and may easily part mistress and servant. Talking of servants, have you no trusty fellow to go between us, my lord?"

Even as the apothecary spoke Ralph brought in a card; the card given by St. James to St. Giles. The returned transport awaited in the hall the command of his patron.

"Nothing could be more fortunate," cried St. James. "Ralph, tell the man who brings this, to attend this gentleman and take his orders. To-morrow I will see him myself."

"And to-morrow, my lord," said the apothecary, with new courage holding forth his hand, "to-morrow you shall hear from

me."

"To-morrow," said St. James.

"To-morrow; heaven be with your lordship ;" and with this hope, the apothecary departed.

St. James hastily paced the room. The walls were hung with

mirrors.

The young gentleman-was it a habit ?-still walked with his hand to his face.