ompany. The young ladies are
always fresher in their white muslin; they walk about in gangs, and eat
a prodigious deal of bread-and-butter at tea. Well, I have done, mamma,
though I 'm sure I was not aware of my transgressions."

"I declare Mr. Kennyfeck is asleep again.--Mr. Kenny-feck, have the
goodness to wake up and say who is to make the whist-table for Lady
Blennerbore."

"Yes, my Lord," said Mr. Kennyfeck, waking up and rubbing his eyes,
"we'll take a verdict for the plaintiff, leaving the points reserved."

A very general laugh here recalled him to himself, as with extreme
confusion he continued, "I was so fatigued in the Rolls to-day. It was
an argument relative to a trust, Mr. Cashel, which it is of great moment
you should be relieved of."

"Oh, never trouble your head about it now, sir," said Cashel,
good-naturedly. "I am quite grieved at the weariness and fatigue my
affairs are costing you."

"I was asking about Lady Blennerbore's whist," interposed Mrs.
Kennyfeck. "Who have you for her party besides the Chief Justice?"

"Major M'Cartney says he can't afford it, mamma," said the eldest
daughter, slyly. "She is so very lucky with the honors!"

"Where is Thorpe?" cried Mrs. Kennyfeck, not deigning to notice this
speech,--"he used to like his rubber."

"He told me," said Miss Kennyfeck, "that he would n't play with her
Ladyship any more; that one had some chance formerly, but that since she
has had that touch of the palsy, she does what she likes with the Kings
and Aces."

"This is atrocious; never let me hear it again," said the mamma,
indignantly; "at all events, old Mr. Moore Hacket will do."

"Poor old man, he is so blind that he has to thumb the cards all over
to try and know them by the feel, and then he always washes the King
and Queen's faces with a snuffy handkerchief, so that the others are
sneezing at every trick they play."

"Caroline, you permit yourself to take the most improper freedoms; I
desire that we may have no more of this."

"I rather like old Mr. Hacket," said the incorrigible assailant; "he
mistook Mr. Pottinger's bald and polished head for a silver salver, and
laid his teacup on it, the last evening he was here."

If Cashel could not help smiling at Miss Kennyfeck's sallies, he felt
it was in rather a strange spirit of hospitality the approaching
entertainment was given, since few of the guests were spared the most
slighting sarcasms, and scarcely for any was there profe