imate with those atrocious Fothergills."

"Who is he?" said Cashel.

"He's a son of Sir George Linton."

"That's one story, mamma; but as nobody ever saw the aforesaid Sir
George, the presumption is it may be incorrect. The last version is that
he was found, like Moses, the discoverer being Lady Harriet Dropmore,
who, with a humanity never to be forgotten,"--"or forgiven," whispered
Olivia, "for she has been often taunted with it,"--"took care of the
creature, and had it reared,--nay, better again, she sent it to Rugby
and to Cambridge, got it into Parliament for Elmwood, and has now made
it Master of the Horse in Ireland."

"He is the most sarcastic person I ever met."

"It is such an easy talent," said Miss Kennyfeck; "the worst of wine
makes capital vinegar."

"Then here follow a set of soldier people," said Olivia,--"hussars and
Queen's Bays, and a Captain Tanker of the Royal Navy,--oh, I remember,
he has but one arm,--and then the Pelertons and the Cuffes."

"Well, are we at the end of our muster-roll?"

"Yes, we have nearly reached the dregs of the cup. I see Mr. Knox
Softly, and the Townleys!"

"Oh, the Townleys! Poor Mrs. Townley, with her yellow turban and red
feathers, that Lord Dunbrock mistook for a _vol-au-vent_ garnished with
shrimps."

"Caroline!" cried Mrs. Kennyfeck, reprovingly, for her daughter's
sallies had more than once verged upon the exhaustion of her patience.

"We shall not weary you with any description of the 'refreshers,' Mr.
Cashel."

"Pray who and what are they?" inquired Cashel.

"The 'refreshers' are that amiable but undervalued class in society who
are always asked for the evening when the other members of the family
are invited to dine. They are the young lady and young gentleman
class,--the household with ten daughters, and a governess that sings
like, anything but, Persiani. They are briefless barristers, with
smart whiskers; and young men reading for the Church, with moustaches;
infantry officers, old maids, fellows of college, and the gentleman who
tells Irish stories."

"Caroline, I really must request--"

"But, mamma, Mr. Cashel surely ought to learn the map of the country he
is to live in."

"I am delighted to acquire my geography so pleasantly," cried Cashel.
"Pray go on."

"I am bound over," said she, smiling; "mamma is looking penknives at me,
so I suppose I must stop. But as to these same 'refreshers,' you will
easily distinguish them from the dinner c