mented with blue calico roses, plaid tulips, and other equally natural-looking artificial flowers, the work of the young ladies themselves. The carpet was taken up, the folding-doors were taken down, the furniture was taken out, and rout-seats were taken in. The linen-drapers of Hammersmith were astounded at the sudden demand for blue sarcenet ribbon, and long white gloves. Dozens of geraniums were purchased for bouquets, and a harp and two violins were bespoke from town, in addition to the grand piano already on the premises. The young ladies who were selected to show off on the occasion, and do credit to the establishment, practised incessantly, much to their own satisfaction, and greatly to the annoyance of the lame old gentleman over the way; and a constant correspondence was kept up between the Misses Crumpton and the Hammersmith pastrycook. The evening came; and then there was such a lacing of stays, and tying of sandals, and dressing of hair, as never can take place with a proper degree of bustle out of a boarding-school. The smaller girls managed to be in every body's way, and were pushed about accordingly; and the elder ones dressed, and tied, and flattered and envied one another, as earnestly and sincerely as if they had actually come out. "How do I look, dear?" inquired Miss Emily Smithers, the belle of the house, of Miss Caroline Wilson, who was her bosom friend, because she was the ugliest girl in Hammersmith, or out of it. "Oh! charming, dear. How do I?" "Delightful! you never looked so handsome," returned the belle, adjusting her own dress, and not bestowing a glance on her poor companion. "I hope young Hilton will come early," said another young lady to Miss somebody else, in a fever of expectation. "I'm sure he'd be highly flattered if he knew it," returned the other, who was practising l'été for effect. "Oh! he's so handsome," said the first. "Such a charming person!" added a second. "Such a distingué air!" said a third. "Oh, what do you think?" said another girl, running into the room; "Miss Crumpton says her cousin's coming." "What! Theodosius Butler?" said every body in raptures. immortal geniuses who are to be met with in almost every circle. They have usually very deep monotonous voices. They always persuade themselves that they are wonderful persons, and that they ought to be very miserable, though they don't precisely know why. They are very conceited, and usually possess exactly half an idea; but with enthusiastic young ladies, and silly young gentlemen, they are very wonderful persons. The individual in question, Mr. Theodosius, had written a pamphlet containing some very weighty considerations on the expediency of doing something or other; and as every sentence contained at least fifty words of four syllables, his admirers took it for granted that he meant a good deal. "Perhaps that's he," exclaimed seve ral young ladies, as the first pull of the evening threatened destruction to the bell of the gate. An awful pause ensued. Some boxes arrived, and a young lady-it was Miss Brook Dingwall, in full ball costume, with an immense gold chain round her neck, and her dress looped up with a single rose ;-an ivory fan in her hand, and a most interesting expression of despair in her face. The Miss Crumptons inquired after the family with the most excruciating anxiety, and Miss Brook Dingwall was formally introduced to her future companions.-The Miss Crumptons conversed with the young ladies in the most mellifluous tones, in order that Miss Brook Dingwall might be properly impressed with their amiable treatment. Another pull at the bell. Mr. Dadson, the writing-master, and his wife. The wife in green silk, with shoes and captrimmings to correspond, and the writingmaster in a white waistcoat, black knee shorts, and ditto silk stockings, displaying a leg large enough for two writing-masters, at least. The young ladies whis pered one another, and the writing-master and his wife flattered the Miss Crumptons, who were dressed in amber, with long sashes, like dolls. Repeated pulls at the bell, and arrivals too numerous to particularize: papas and mammas, and aunts and uncles, the owners and guardians of the different pupils; the singing-master, Signor Lobskini, in a black wig; the pianoforte-player and the violins; the harp, in a state of intoxica tion; and some twenty young men, who stood near the door, and talked to one an other, occasionally bursting into a giggle. "Is he handsome?" inquired a novice. "No, not particularly handsome," was the general reply; "but, oh, so clever!" Mr. Theodosius Butler was one of those | A general hum of conversation. Coffee handed round and plentifully partaken of by fat mammas, looking like the stout people who come on in pantomimes for the sole purpose of being knocked down. The popular Mr. Hilton was the next arrival; and having, at the request of the Miss Crumptons, undertaken the office of Master of the Ceremonies, the quadrilles commenced with considerable spirit. The young men by the door gradually advanced into the middle of the room, and in time became sufficiently at ease to consent to be introduced to partners. The writing-master danced every set, springing about with the most fearful agility, and his wife played a rubber in the back parlour-a little room with five bookshelves, dignified by the name of the study. Setting her down to whist was a half. yearly piece of generalship on the part of the Miss Crumptons, as it was necessary to hide her somewhere on account of her being a fright. The interesting Lavinia Brook Dingwall was the only girl present who appeared to take no interest in the proceedings of the evening. In vain was she solicited to dance; in vain was the universal homage paid to her as the daughter of a member of parliament. She was equally unmoved by the splendid tenor of the inimitable Lobskini, and the brilliant execution of Miss Lætitia Parsons, whose performance of "The Recollections of Ireland" was universally declared to be almost equal to that of Moschelles himself. Not even the announcement of the arrival of Mr. Theodosius Butler could induce her to leave the corner of the back drawing-room in which she was seated. "Now, Theodosius," said Miss Maria Crumpton, after that enlightened pamphleteer had nearly run the gauntlet of the whole company, "I must introduce you to our new pupil." Theodosius looked as if he cared for nothing earthly. "She's the daughter of a member of parliament," said Maria. - Theodosius started. "And her name is -?" he inquired. "Miss Brook Dingwall." "Great Heaven!" poetically exclaimed Theodosius in a low tone. Miss Crumpton commenced the introduction in due form. Miss Brook Dingwall languidly raised her head. "Edward!" she exclaimed, with a half shriek, on seeing the well-known nankeen legs. Fortunately, as Miss Maria Crumpton possessed no remarkable share of peneY Oh, Edward!" exclaimed the most romantic of all romantic young ladies, as the light of science seated himself beside her, "Oh, Edward! is it you?" Mr. Theodosius assured the dear creature, in the most impassioned manner, that he was not conscious of being any body but himself. "Then why why-this disguise? Oh! Edward M'Neville Walter, what have I not suffered on your account!" "Lavinia, hear me," replied the hero, in his most poetic strain. Do not condemn me unheard. If any thing that emanates from the soul of such a wretch as I can occupy a place in your recollection-if any being so vile deserve your notice-you may remember that I once published a pamphlet (and paid for its publication) entitled Considerations on the Policy of Removing the Duty on Bees'-wax." "I do--I do!" sobbed Lavinia. 66 That," continued the lover, "was a subject to which your father was devoted heart and soul." "He wassentimentalist. he was!" reiterated the "I knew it," continued Theodosius, tragically; "I knew it-I forwarded him a copy. He wished to know me. Could I disclose my real name? Never! No, I assumed that name which you have so often pronounced in tones of endearment. As M'Neville Walter, I devoted myself to the stirring cause; as M'Neville Walter I gained your heart; in the same character I was ejected from your house by your father's domestics, and in no character at all have I since been enabled to see you. We now meet again and I proudly own that I am-Theodosius Butler." The young lady appeared perfectly satisfied with this very argumentative address, and bestowed a look of the most ardent affection on the immortal advocate of bees'-wax. "May I hope," said he, "that the promise your father's violent behaviour interrupted, may be renewed?" "Let us join this set," replied Lavinia, coquettishly-for girls of nineteen car coquette. I have your permission?" "You have." "To the fullest extent?" "You know it," returned the blushing Lavinia. The contortions of the interesting Butler's visage expressed his raptures. We could dilate upon the occurrences that ensued. How Mr. Theodosius and Miss Lavinia danced, and talked, and sighed for the remainder of the evening -how the Miss Crumptons were delighted thereat. How the writing-master continued to frisk about with one-horse power, and how his wife, from some unaccountable freak, left the whist-table in the little back parlour, and persisted in displaying her green head-dress in the most conspicuous part of the drawing-room. How the supper consisted of small triangular sandwiches in trays, and a tart here and there by way of variety; and how the visiters consumed warm water disguised with lemon, and dotted with nutmeg, under the denomination of negus. These, and other matters of as much interest, however, we pass over, for the purpose of describing a scene of even more import ance. manner, "for your attention in calling this morning. I should have driven down to Hammersmith to see Lavinia, but your account was so very satisfactory, and my duties in the House occupy me so much, that I determined to postpone it for a week. How has she gone on?" "Very well indeed, sir," returned Maria, dreading to inform the father that she had gone off. “Ah, I thought the plan on which I proceeded would be a match for her." Here was a favourable opportunity to say that somebody else had been a match for her. The unfortunate governess was unequal to the task. "You have persevered strictly in the line of conduct I prescribed, Miss Crumpton?" "Has gone, sir" said Maria, exhibit ing a strong inclination to faint. "Gone!" 66 66 Eloped, sir." Eloped!-Who with-when-where almost shrieked the agitated The natural yellow of the unfortunate Maria's face changed to all the hues of the rainbow, as she laid a small packet upon the member's table. A fortnight after the date of the ball, Cornelius Brook Dingwall, Esq., M. P., was seated at the same library-table, and in the same room as we have before described. He was alone, and his face bore-how?" an expression of deep thought and solemn diplomatist. gravity-he was drawing up "A Bill for the better observance of Easter Monday." The footman tapped at the door-the legislator started from his reverie, and "Miss Crumpton" was announced. Permission was given for Miss Crumpton to enter the sanctum; Maria came sliding in, and having taken her seat with a due portion of affectation, the footman retired, and the governess was left alone with the M. P. Oh! how she longed for the presence of a third party! even the facetious young gentleman would have been a relief. Miss Crumpton began the duet. She hoped Mrs. Brook Dingwall and the handsome little boy were in good health. They were. Mrs. Brook Dingwall and little Frederick were at Brighton. "Much obliged to you, Miss Crumpten," said Cornelius, in his most dignified He hurriedly opened it. A letter from his daughter, and another from Theodosius. He glanced over their contents→ "Ere this reaches you, far distant-appeal to feelings-love to distractionbees'-wax-slavery," &c. &c. He dashed his hand to his forehead, and paced the room with fearfully long strides, to the great alarm of the precise Maria. "Now mind; from this time forward," said Mr. Brook Dingwall, suddenly stopping at the table, and beating time upon it with his hand-"from this time forward, I never will, under any circumstances whatever, permit a man who writes pamphlets to enter any room of this house but the kitchen.-I'll allow my daughter and her husband one hundred and fifty pounds a-year, and never see their faces again; and, dammee! ma'am, I'll bring in a bill for the abolition of finishing schools!" Some time has elapsed since this pas sionate declaration. Mr. and Mrs. Butler are at present rusticating in a small cottage at Ball's pond, pleasantly situated in the immediate vicinity of a brick-field. They have no family. Mr. Theodosius looks very important, and writes incessantly; but, in consequence of some gross combination on the part of publishers, none of his productions appear in print. His young wife begins to think that ideal misery is preferable to real unhappiness; and that a marriage contracted in haste, and repented at leisure, is the cause of more substantial wretchedness than she ever anticipated. On cool reflection, Cornelius Brook Dingwall, Esq., M. P., was reluctantly compelled to admit that the untoward result of his admirable arrangements was attributable, not to the Miss Crumptons but his own diplomacy. He however consoles himself, like some other small diplomatists, by satisfactorily proving that if his plans did not succeed, they ought to have done so. Minerva House is in statu quo, and "The Misses Crumpton" remain in the peaceable and undisturbed enjoyment of all the advantages resulting from their Finishing School. CHAPTER IV. THE TUGGS'S AT RAMSGATE. ONCE upon a time there dwelt, in a narrow street on the Surrey side of the water within three minutes' walk of the old London Bridge, Mr. Joseph Tuggsa little dark-faced man, with shiny hair, twinkling eyes, short legs, and a body of very considerable thickness, measuring from the centre button of his waistcoat in front, to the ornamental buttons of his coat behind. The figure of the amiable Mrs. Tuggs, if not perfectly symmetrical, was decidedly comfortable; and the form of her only daughter, the accomplished Miss Charlotte Tuggs, was fast ripening nto that state of luxuriant plumpness which had enchanted the eyes, and captirated the heart, of Mr. Joseph Tuggs in is earlier days. Mr. Simon Tuggs, his nly so., and Miss Charlotte Tuggs's only brother, was as differently formed in body, as he was differently constituted in mind, from the remainder of his family. There was that elongation in his thoughtful face, and that tendency to weakness in his interesting legs, which tells so forcibly of a great mind and romantic disposition. The slightest traits of character in such a being, possess no mean interest to speculative minds. He usually appeared in public in capacious shoes with black cotton stockings; and was observed to be particularly attached to a black glazed stock, without tie or ornament of any description. There is perhaps no profession, however useful; no pursuit, however meritorious, which can escape the petty attacks of vulgar minds. Mr. Joseph Tuggs was a grocer. It might be supposed that a grocer was beyond the breath of calumny: but no-the neighbours stigmatized him as a chandler; and the poisonous voice of envy distinctly asserted that he dispensed tea and coffee by the quartern, retailed sugar by the ounce, cheese by the slice, tobacco by the screw, and butter by the pat. These taunts, however, were lost upon the Tuggs's. Mr. Tuggs attended to the grocery department, Mrs. Tuggs to the cheesemongery, and Miss Tuggs to her education. Mr. Simon Tuggs kept his father's books, and his own counsel. One fine spring afternoon, the latter gentleman was seated on a tub of weekly Dorset behind the little red desk with a wooden rail, which ornamented a corner of the counter, when a stranger dismounted from a cab, and hastily entered the shop. He was habited in black cloth, and bore with him a green umbrella and a blue bag. "Mr. Tuggs?" said the stranger, inquiringly. 66 My name is Tuggs," repeated Mr. Simon. "It's the other Mr. Tuggs," said the stranger, looking towards the glass door which led into the parlour behind the shop, and on the inside of which, the round face of Mr. Tuggs, senior, was distinctly visible, peeping over the curtain. Mr. Simon gracefully waved his pen, as if in intimation of his wish that his father would advance, and Mr. Joseph Tuggs, with considerable celerity, removed his face from the curtain, and placed it before the stranger. "I come from the Temple," said the man with the bag. "From the Temple!" said Mrs. Tuggs, flinging open the door of the little parlour, and disclosing Miss Tuggs in perspective. "From the Temple !" said Miss Tuggs and Mr. Simon Tuggs at the same mo ment. "From the Temple!" said Mr. Joseph Tuggs, turning as pale as a Dutch cheese. "From the Temple," repeated the man with the bag; "from Mr. Cower's, the solicitor's. Mr. Tuggs, I congratulate you, sir. Ladies, I wish you joy of your prosperity! We have been successful." And the man with the bag leisurely divested himself of his umbrella and glove, as a preliminary to shaking hands with Mr. Joseph Tuggs. Now the words "we have been successful," had no sooner issued from the mouth of the man with the bag, than Mr. Simon Tuggs rose from the tub of weekly Dorset, opened his eyes very wide, gasped for breath, made figures of eight in the air with his pen, and finally fell into the arms of his anxious mother, and fainted away, without the slightest ostensible cause or pretence. "Water!" screamed Mrs. Tuggs. “Look up, my son," exclaimed Mr. Tuggs. "Simon! dear Simon!" shrieked Miss Tuggs. "I'm better now," said Mr. Simon Tuggs."What! successful!" And then, as corroborative evidence of his being better, he fainted away again, and was borne into the little parlour by the united efforts of the remainder of the family and the man with the bag. To a casual spectator, or to any one unacquainted with the position of the family, this fainting would have been unaccountable. To those who understood the mission of the man with the bag, and were moreover acquainted with the excitability of the nerves of Mr. Simon Tuggs, it was quite comprehensible. long-pending law-suit respecting the validity of a will, had been unexpectedly decided; and Mr. Joseph Tuggs was the possessor of twenty thousand pounds. A A prolonged consultation took place that night in the little parlour — -a consultation that was to settle the future destinies of the Tuggs's. The shop was shut up at an unusually early hour; and many were the unavailing kicks bestowed upon the closed door by applicants for quarterns of sugar, or half-quarterns of bread, or penn'orths of pepper, which were to have been "left till Saturday," but which fortune had decreed were to be left alone altogether. "We must certainly give up business," said Miss Tuggs. "Oh, decidedly," said Mrs. Tuggs. "Simon shall go to the bar," said Mr. Joseph Tuggs. "And I shall always sign myself 'Cymon' in future," said his son. "And I shall call myself Charlotta," said Miss Tuggs. "And you must always call me 'Ma,' and Father Pa,' ," said Mrs. Tuggs. "Yes, and Pa must leave off all his vulgar habits," interposed Miss Tuggs. "I'll take care of all that," responded Mr. Joseph Tuggs, complacently. - He was at that very moment eating pickled salmon with a pocket-knife. "We must leave town immediately," said Mr. Cymon Tuggs. Everybody concurred that this was ar indispensable preliminary to being gen teel. The question then arose-Where should they go?" 66 Gravesend," mildly suggested Mr. Joseph Tuggs. The idea was unanimously scouted. Gravesend was low. "Margate," insinuated Mrs. Tuggs. Worse and worse-nobody there but tradespeople. "Brighton!" Mr. Cymon Tuggs opthe coaches had been upset in their turn posed an insurmountable objection. All had averaged two passengers killed and within the last three weeks; each coach six wounded; and in every case the news papers had distinctly understood that 66 no blame whatever was attributable to the coachman." "Ramsgate!" ejaculated Mr. Cymon, thoughtfully. To be sure how stupid they must have been not to have thought of that before! Ramsgate was just the place of all others that they ought to go to. Two months after this conversation, the City of London Ramsgate steamer was running gaily down the river. Her flag was flying, her band was playing, her passengers were conversing; every thing about her seemed gay and lively.— No wonder the Tuggs's were on board. "Charming, ain't it?" said Mr. Joseph Tuggs, in a bottle-green great-coat, with a velvet collar of the same, and a blue travelling-cap with a gold band. "Soul-inspiring," replied Mr. Cymon Tuggs - he was entered at the bar"Soul-inspiring!" "Delightful morning, sir," said a stoutish, military-looking gentleman in a blue surtout buttoned up to his chin, and white |