cret admiration for the popular man. Such is the constitution
of the inhabitants of this dear Island of Britain, so falsely accused
by the Great Napoleon of being a nation of shopkeepers. Here let any one
proclaim himself Above Buttons, and act on the assumption, his fellows
with one accord hoist him on their heads, and bear him aloft, sweating,
and groaning, and cursing, but proud of him! And if he can contrive, or
has any good wife at home to help him, to die without going to the
dogs, they are, one may say, unanimous in crying out the same eulogistic
funeral oration as that commenced by Kilne, the publican, when he was
interrupted by Barnes, the butcher, 'Now, there's a man!--'

Mrs. Harrington was sitting in her parlour with one of her married
nieces, Mrs. Fiske, and on reading Lady Racial's card she gave word for
her to be shown up into the drawing-room. It was customary among Mrs.
Harrington's female relatives, who one and all abused and adored the
great Mel, to attribute his shortcomings pointedly to the ladies; which
was as much as if their jealous generous hearts had said that he was
sinful, but that it was not his fault. Mrs. Fiske caught the card from
her aunt, read the superscription, and exclaimed: 'The idea! At least
she might have had the decency! She never set her foot in the house
before--and right enough too! What can she want now? I decidedly would
refuse to see her, aunt!'

The widow's reply was simply, 'Don't be a fool, Ann!'

Rising, she said: 'Here, take poor Jacko, and comfort him till I come
back.'

Jacko was a middle-sized South American monkey, and had been a pet of
her husband's. He was supposed to be mourning now with the rest of the
family. Mrs. Fiske received him on a shrinking lap, and had found time
to correct one of his indiscretions before she could sigh and say, in
the rear of her aunt's retreating figure, 'I certainly never would let
myself, down so'; but Mrs. Harrington took her own counsel, and Jacko
was of her persuasion, for he quickly released himself from Mrs. Fiske's
dispassionate embrace, and was slinging his body up the balusters after
his mistress.

'Mrs. Harrington,' said Lady Racial, very sweetly swimming to meet her
as she entered the room, 'I have intruded upon you, I fear, in venturing
to call upon you at such a time?'

The widow bowed to her, and begged her to be seated.

Lady Racial was an exquisitely silken dame, in whose face a winning
smile was cut, and sh