ame time thinking about a bill
that is coming due next Thursday. Happy dog!

MRS. TROTTER, MISS TROTTER, MISS TOADY, LORD METHUSELAH.

Dear Emma Trotter has been silent and rather ill-humored all the evening
until now her pretty face lights up with smiles. Cannot you guess why?
Pity the simple and affectionate creature! Lord Methuselah has not
arrived until this moment: and see how the artless girl steps forward to
greet him!

In the midst of all the selfishness and turmoil of the world, how
charming it is to find virgin hearts quite unsullied, and to look on
at little romantic pictures of mutual love! Lord Methuselah, though you
know his age by the peerage--though he is old, wigged, gouty, rouged,
wicked, has lighted up a pure flame in that gentle bosom. There was a
talk about Tom Willoughby last year; and then, for a time, young Hawbuck
(Sir John Hawbuck's youngest son) seemed the favored man; but Emma never
knew her mind until she met the dear creature before you in a Rhine
steamboat. "Why are you so late, Edward?" says she. Dear artless child!

Her mother looks on with tender satisfaction. One can appreciate the
joys of such an admirable parent!

"Look at them!" says Miss Toady. "I vow and protest they're the
handsomest couple in the room!"

Methuselah's grandchildren are rather jealous and angry, and
Mademoiselle Ariane, of the French theatre, is furious. But there's no
accounting for the mercenary envy of some people; and it is impossible
to satisfy everybody.

MR. BEAUMORIS, MR. GRIG, MR. FLYNDERS.

Those three young men are described in a twinkling: Captain Grig of the
Heavies; Mr. Beaumoris, the handsome young man; Tom Flinders (Flynders
Flynders he now calls himself), the fat gentleman who dresses after
Beaumoris.

Beaumoris is in the Treasury: he has a salary of eighty pounds a year,
on which he maintains the best cab and horses of the season; and out of
which he pays seventy guineas merely for his subscriptions to clubs. He
hunts in Leicestershire, where great men mount him; he is a prodigious
favorite behind the scenes at the theatres; you may get glimpses of him
at Richmond, with all sorts of pink bonnets; and he is the sworn friend
of half the most famous roues about town, such as Old Methuselah, Lord
Billygoat, Lord Tarquin, and the rest: a respectable race. It is to
oblige the former that the good-natured young fellow is here to-night;
though it must not be imagined that he gives hims