and he had now taken her up to
look at the mine which at all events had introduced them. He had
previously taken her to see his mother's grave, the mother whom he had
so loved. The mine after some delay proved more prosperous than ever.
It was not sold, but is the 'appanage' of the younger sons of the
house of Dacres.

With the exception of the 'ranche,' it will be remarked that there is
not one word in the foregoing description to fix locality. The mine and
the ranche together seem indeed to suggest South America. But--I ask for
information--do birds twitter there in willow gorges? Younger sons of
noble families proverbially come off second best in this country, but if
one of them found his only 'appanage' was a mine, he would surely with
some justice make a remonstrance.

The readers of this class of fiction will not have Dumas at any
price--or, at all events, not at a penny. Mr. Collins tells us how
'Monte Christo' was once spread before them, and how they turned from
that gorgeous feast with indifference, and fell back upon their tripe
and onions--their nameless authors. But some of those who write for them
have adopted one peculiarity of Dumas. The short jerky sentences which
disfigure the 'Three Musketeers,' and indeed all that great novelist's
works, are very frequent with them, which induces me to believe that
they are paid by the line.

On the other hand, some affect fashionable description and conversation
which are drawn out in 'passages that lead to nothing' of an amazing
length.

'Where have I been,' replied Clyde with a carelessness which was half
forced 'Oh, I have been over to Higham to see the dame.'

'Ah, yes,' said Sir Edward, 'and how is the poor old creature?'

'Quite well,' said Clyde, as he sat down and took up the menu of the
elaborate dinner. 'Quite well, she sent her best respects,' he added,
but he said nothing of the lodger, pretty Miss Mary Westlake.

And when, a moment afterwards, the door opened and Grace came flowing
in with her lithe noiseless step, dressed in one of Worth's
masterpieces, a wonder of amber, satin, and antique lace, he raised
his eyes and looked at her with an earnest scrutiny--so earnest that
she paused with her hand on his chair, and met his eyes with a
questioning glance.

'Do you like my new dress?' she said with a calm smile.

'Your dress?' he said. 'Yes, yes, it is very pretty, very.' But to
himself he added, 'Yes,