ry, does not add to its natural attractions. Nevertheless, there are
pictures of life and manners in these volumes which have the easy and
unconstrained air of an author who is not writing for mere effect, but
for the purpose of "holding the mirror up to nature," and correcting the
follies and vices of the age without attempting to exaggerate them.

We do not attempt to unravel the story of Arlington, but quote a few
flying extracts. First is a

_Scandal-loving Letter_

from Sir Gerald Denbigh to Lady Ulverston, a lady distinguished by a
congenial love of _tracasserie_, and a congenial idolization of social
distinctions; an address which passed for cleverness; unimpeachable
taste in self-adornment; and who was courted by the ball-going part of
London as a dispenser of tickets for Almack's.

"Do you know you are paying us all a very undeserved compliment in being
curious about our proceedings; and I will not turn the head of any one
here, by imparting a syllable touching your inquiries. You ask what the
party is composed of--a sign that you don't consume your invaluable time
in spelling newspapers--for Berwick announces the accessions to his
menagerie as diligently as Pidcock. Our last arrivals were those Polar
bears, the Rochdales, with their pretty youngest daughter, who is
surprisingly little, chilly and frozen for a creature that has always
been living among icebergs. We are doomed to them for a week, Lord
Rochdale having promised to stay so long; and he is one of those
patterns of inconvenient precision, who, having once promised, will
certainly pay the heavy debt of visitation to the uttermost minute.
Arlington is here--brought expressly to play suitor, and looking
affectingly conscious of his _role_. Berwick, I believe, has told him
that he shall die of disappointment, or, what is as bad, shut up his
house, if he quits them unaccepted. What an alternative for the poor
youth--to be forced to marry at one-and-twenty, or deprive the world of
the fortunate master of the best cook in Christendom.

"There is a strange heterogeneous medley here. Fancy, of all living
creatures, the Bolsovers being brought hither to meet the Rochdales,
whom they suit like point ruffles with a shooting-jacket. Either Berwick
has acquired a taste for contrasts, or, in assorting his party, has
overlooked every thing but the prospective match, and drawn the rest of
the company by lot. His only other considerate arrangement is having
Charl