for them to run through, in all the doors of his house, besides a large one for the cats; and we cannot help loving the wilful doting of the good old man. In all other respects except this affectionate treatment of Tartar and Griffin, Lord Clanelly's character had deteriorated instead of improving, since we last had occasion to advert to him. He had grown more selfish, more careless of the happiness of others, more studiously attentive to the promotion of his own. Happiness, however, was not likely to flourish in such a soil, and every day that he continued to live, instead of growing happier, he became only more miserable and discontented. This must ever be the case with a man so utterly unprincipled, in every sense of the word, as Lord Clanelly. He had so bad an opinion of all mankind, both of women and men, that it was impossible to entertain a worse; and it may be laid down as a rule, that no man has a bad opinion of his fellows who is not a bad man himself. Lord Clanelly's principles were of such a nature, that he never hesitated at the commission of any villany, or breach of trust, or even honour, which he thought might be risked without an open exposure. If he were left alone in a room where there were private writings and confidential papers, Lord Clanelly would never have

forgiven himself, if he had omitted to read them. A letter which he had been asked to deliver in Paris, and which had been committed to him unsealed in London, he read through from beginning to end before his carriage had got further than Dartford. Lord Arthur Mullingham used to tell a story of his having met him at a party in town, in which a game of écarté, for very high stakes, was being waged between two very noted players. Lord Arthur could not help perceiving that a particular friend of one of the players had stationed himself behind the chair of his adversary, and was telegraphing with his fingers to his confederate the cards which were in his opponent's hand. This behaviour appeared so gross to Mullingham, that he thought it no less than his duty to give intimation to those who had bet upon the other side of what was going on. This coming to the knowledge of Lord Clanelly, he approached Mullingham, and said

"Why, what a slow fellow you were, Mullingham, to mention the circumstance, when you found out that this person had a telegraphic assistance in the game!"

"A slow fellow!" retorted Mullingham; "why, what would you have done?"

"Bet upon him," said Clanelly; and, had he been in Mullingham's place, he would doubtless have been as good as his word, to the amount of a few thousands.

We have alluded elsewhere to a connexion which Lord Clanelly had maintained, even during the period of his marriage, with another woman. This lady having one day received a fifty pounds bank bill, inclosed in a letter containing the most insulting proposals, she instantly returned both the letter and the money, under another envelope, to the writer, with every expression of indignation, and reported the circumstance, some time afterwards, to Clanelly himself.

"Good gracious! how foolish of you!" exclaimed Clanelly, from whom she had expected, on the contrary, high terms of encomium upon her conduct.

Why, what ought I to have done, my dear Clanelly?" said the disappointed danseuse.

"You were perfectly right in returning him his letter," said the earl; "but you might as well have bought yourself some diamonds with the fifty pounds!"

All these anecdotes, however, and we might enumerate many of them, do not make it a bit more

impossible that Lord Clanelly should have been fond of his dogs. The sanguinary Couthon, the confederate of Robespierre, at the time when he was cutting off the heads of his fellow men by hundreds, used to shed tears of affection over his favourite spaniel ; and even on the day when the National Convention pronounced their final doom upon himself, Robespierre, St. Just, and Le Bas, he rose to speak in his own defence, still hugging the pet animal, which he always carried in his bosom, to vent upon it his overflowing sensibility.

With respect to Lord Furstenroy's family, the feelings which Lord Clanelly entertained towards them were by no means moderated or equivocal in their nature. He was aware that he had been spoken of by all the members of that family in depreciatory and disparaging terms; and the consciousness that he had deserved it, did not at all more reconcile him to the fact. The difficulty he felt in mixing in general society, for fear he should be thrown unexpectedly into the presence of old Lord Furstenroy himself, or of the Countess de Carbonelle, his daughter, to whom he had so basely broken his plighted engagement, annoyed and provoked him he attributed, in part, the actual estrangement of his own wife, to

her having discovered his previous ill conduct towards Lady Emily Bazancourt; and he knew not how this knowledge could ever have reached her, except through the unguarded manner in which the subject had been pretty generally talked about by the family itself in mixed society, and in places of public resort. Hence Lord Clanelly nourished in his mind a hatred of all the Furstenroy party, scarcely less deadly or less implacable than that entertained by Richard Bazancourt towards himself. It was, however, remarkable, that excepting the single rencontre at Landraven House, from which he had instantly retreated, he had never yet met face to face any one member of that family since the breaking off of the marriage engagement. He was naturally not particularly anxious to accelerate such meeting.

It was one evening, within a very short period after young Boivin's death, that Lord Fletcher, who had been to arrange that young man's papers, and look over some of the manuscripts which he had left in his lodging in the Rue St. Denis, was returning home along the Boulevards, still musing on some of the transcendental schemes of government, and plans for Utopian republics, which he had been perusing. His