says M. Lupot, "what is the meaning of all this?"

"It means, that you must make up the stakes of your side, to what we
have put down on this. The master of the house is always expected to
make up the difference."

M. Lupot dare not refuse. He lays down his fifteen francs and loses
them; next game the deficiency is twenty. In short, in less than half an
hour, the ex-stationer loses ninety francs. His eyes start out of his
head--he scarcely knows where he is; and to complete his misery, the
opposite party, in lifting up the money they have won, upset one of the
lamps he had borrowed from his neighbours, and smashed it into fifty
pieces.

At last the hour of separation comes. The good citizen has been anxious
for it for a long time. All his gay company depart, without even wishing
good-night to the host who has exerted himself so much for their
entertainment. The family of the Lupots are left alone; Madame, overcome
with fatigue, and vexed because her cap had been found fault with;
Celanire, with tears in her eyes, because her music and Belisarius had
been laughed at; and Ascanius sick and ill, because he has nearly burst
himself with cakes and muffins; M. Lupot was, perhaps, the unhappiest of
all, thinking of his ninety francs and the broken lamp. Old Annette
gathered up the crumbs of the sandwiches, and muttered--"Do they think
people make English dishes to have them thrown into the corners of the
room?"

"It's done," said M. Lupot; "I shall give no more soirees. I begin to
think I was foolish in wishing to leave my own sphere. When people of
the same class lark and joke each other, it's all very well; but when
you meddle with your superiors, and they are uncivil, it hurts your
feelings. Their mockery is an insult, and you don't get over it soon. My
dear Celanire, I shall decidedly try to marry you to a stationer."

* * * * *

THE WORLD OF LONDON. SECOND SERIES. PART III.

THE ARISTOCRACIES OF LONDON LIFE.

OF GENTILITY-MONGERING.

The HEAVY SWELL was recorded in our last for the admiration and
instruction of remote ages. When the nineteenth century shall be long
out of date, and centuries in general out of their _teens_, posterity
will revert to our delineation of the heavy swell with pleasure
undiminished, through the long succession of ages yet to come; the
macaroni, the fop, the dandy, will be forgotten, or remembered only in
our graphic portraiture of the heavy swell