hout thing! on'y go for to look at the adwantages on it!-on'y see 'ow hindependent they are, them as does persess lots; vile them as don't, is in a wuss state of slavery than the black popplation there out by the North Pole. They're never theirselves them as ain't got no money. They can't hold their heads up: it's clean against natur'. Jist p'int out to me a hindiwidual a-vendin' his vay along the streets, on'y jist let me look at him full in the face, and if don't tell you vether he's got any money or not, I'll be bound to be blessed; cos he as hasn't, allus looks werry petickler down his nose; vile he as has, takes jist about as much notice of that horgan as if he hadn't got one. He can't look right straight at yer, him wot's got all his pockets empty; he can't ketch yer hearty and vorm by the hand; he can't speak like a hinnercent man: his woice shivers and shakes jist for all the vorld as if it vos ashamed of itself; and he mumbles, and trembles, and wobbles, vile the corners of his mouth drops right away down in the rottenest manner alive; verehas, the man vich has got plenty in his pocket can look at yer fierce. He can take yer hand vith henergy, and speak up as if he owed yer nothink, and vornt a bit afeared on yer, vich makes great hodds! Ven I meets a friend, now, vich ain't got no money, I don't like to see him.-I can't say I do,-not a bit acos I'm spungy or anythink o' that; but I'd rayther not see him. I some'ow or nother don't like it. I pities him; and, as pity wounds the feelings, it ain't consequentially pleasant. If a friend in them there circumstantials ses to me, "Have yer got sich a thing as a couple o' shillin's," it cuts me to the quick; not acos I at all objects to lend it, nor cos I don't hand him over double wot he arsts for, and never expects to vitness agin the colour of the money, but it's cos it hurts my sentiments to see him, and wounds me to think wot his feelings must be. That's the p'int, you know!-that's vere he feels it!'

Exactly,' returned Joanna: 'you're excessively correct; but that warn't by no manner of means what I meant. I didn't by any means mean to mean that money was no object, or that it wasn't an excessive advantage: no, if I thought that, I should not have put by for a rainy day, as I have done. I shouldn't have thought of having such an amount as I have in the saving's bank at the present period of time. All I meant was, that money wasn't all; that money alone couldn't purchase happiness, and therefore that happiness was to be preferred.'

And in the long run I agrees vith yer. 'Appiness, in course, his the thing-the great thing: ve can't git through the vorld at all comfortable vithout it; but though it is to be found in hevery spere of society, from Vestmister to Vopping, vere can it be found without money? I don't mean to say that they're unseperateable,—that is to say, that verever there's money there must be 'appiness consequentially also ; but I do mean to say, that verever there's 'appiness there there must likevise be money. There can't be no 'appiness vithout it. It stands to reason; it ain't nat'ral! Look at them vich is in debt: 'ow can they be 'appy? I'll defy 'em to do it! It's out of natur' for 'em to be 'appy, from the highest spere down to the werry lowest,-from him vich owes his banker arf a million, to him as owes his chandleyshop-keeper arf-a-crown. It's onpossible! Look at me on'y jist for instance. I've got seven houses vich brings me in fifty pound a-ear, all let to respectable tenants, substantial men of family vich never shoots the moon, and the writings is at home. Wery well. Now

vot, s'pose I should be throwed out o' place,-vot should I care, vith them to fall back upon? Nothink. But s'pose I hadn't them, and then vos to be throwed out vithout the prospect of gettin' another, vere abouts vood be the price of my 'appiness then? Voodn't it be out of all character for me to be 'appy? In course: vere poverty is, there 'appiness can't be. They never agree together; they're hallvays a-fightin', and poverty's safe to be wictorious.'

I admire your mode of argument,' observed Joanna, gently; 'it's excessively intellectual and correct; but have you never, in the course of your extensive experience, found those that are poor as happy as those that are rich?

Vy,' replied the venerable gentleman, knitting his brows thoughtfully, that is a p'int vich requires to be explained. You see, the poor is sometimes richer than the rich; and, on the tother side o' the pictur', the rich is sometimes poorer than the poor. I don't call him poor, however poor he may be, vich has got enough to keep him respectable in his spere; nor I don't call him rich, however rich he may be, vich hasn't got enough to keep him respectable in hisn. A rich man may be werry rich, and a poor man may be werry poor, and between them a werry great distinction may be drawed; but the poor man, vich has but twelve shillin's a veek, and vith that can supply all his vonts, is richer than him with ten thousand a-ear hif vith that he's onable to make both ends meet. That's the p'int! So, you see, I don't call the poor reg'lar poor vich has enough to make 'em comfor'ble and tidy in their vay ; but ven a poor man is poor, vy he's werry poor indeed, cos he can't get no wittles; and, as 'appiness von't stay vere there's no wittles, the whole p'int dissolves jist to this, that the rich rich is 'appier than the poor rich, mind yer,-and the rich poor is 'appier than the werry poor poor, vich ain't got no wittles to eat.'

'I understand you perfectly,' said Joanna; 'it's excessively clear and precisely what I meant. I meant I'd rather be in a poor sphere of life, with sufficient to make me excessively happy, than in a high sphere, rolling in riches, without having happiness with it.'

That's all reg'lar !' exclaimed the venerable gentleman: 've're a-balancin' the werry same pole! 'Appiness, in course, is the uniwersal thing, and consequentially ve're hallways a-yarnin' arter that vich ve think vill percure it, and vich is nayther more nor less than money; for, although vot you say is werry true, that there's no shop in natur' vere 'appiness, like any other harticle, is ticketed and sold, there is thousands of shops vere it is, in a hindirect manner, to be bought; as, for hinstance, if I was werry ungry, and unger vos the on'y sore place I had about me, a crust of bread and cheese and a pint of arf-and-arf vood make me 'appy; but, if I hadn't got no money to buy that bread and cheese and arf-and-arf, I should be onappy indeed. So, you see, it hall depends upon vether you can git vot yer vont if yer can, in course yer 'appy: if yer can't, in course you ain't. For hinstance, now I vont a vife. If I could git one-a reg'lar good un-I should then be all right; but as I can't, 'ow can I be 'appy?'

werry

Joanna blushed deeply as she observed, with a most expressive smile, Now, Mr. Joseph, you are joking.'

'Not a bit,' rejoined the venerable gentleman; 'no, upon my honer.'

'Did you ever try?'

'Vy, I can't sconscientiously say I ever did.'

'Then how can you know? You cannot know until you try.'

'But I'm gettin' rayther a hold feller now, yer know, inclinin', as the poet says, "into the wale of ears;" so that nobody 'll 'ave me.' 'Nobody would have you!' echoed Joanna, with an expression of playful incredulity.

Vell, who vood now? That's the p'int at hissue. Vood you ?' The ardent and affectionate heart of Joanna now violently throbbed; but, as she felt it to be her duty to blush and remain silent, she made no reply.

'Vell, p'raps,' continued the venerable gentleman, as Joanna glanced most expressively at him,-'p'raps I put the p'int rayther too close, as your werry perliteness vont let you say no.'

Oh! it isn't for that,' observed Joanna, very tremulously. Vell, then, I'll tell you vot I'll do vith you. Come, now, I'll bet you a pair of gloves that you can't sconscientiously, mind yer, say yes.'

What a funny man you are!' said Joanna.

'It vood, I know, be a robbery. I know I shood vin.'

'Do you think so?'

'Safe! Come, I'll make it two to one,-there, and put the money down they shall be arf-crowners, double-stitched Frenchmen. Vill you take these ere hodds?'

--

'You'd lose,' said Joanna, with archness, you'd be certain to lose,'

'I don't think it, nor von't till I have lost. Now, then, vill you bet?'

Why really! Mr. Joseph-I never knew!-it's such a very droll way of doing business!'

'Vot's the hodds, so that business is done?'

'But indeed-depend upon it-you'd lose.'

Werry well. If I do, I shall have to stand the Frenchmen, that's all. Come, put the money down,-or I'll trust yer. Now, then,' continued the venerable gentleman, kneeling upon the footstool beside her, and placing his ear quite close to her lips, 'come, visper, and then nayther the kittles nor the sarcepans vont ear. Now mark! Vood you 'ave me?'

The venerable gentleman patiently paused some considerable time for a reply; but at length Joanna did sigh and say 'Now-really!' 'Only visper the word!'

་

Upon my conscience I feel so flustrated; indeed so excessively confused, that I cannot for the life of me.'

'Oh, but you must! Come-now then-vonce more. ave me?'

Vood you

With a faltering voice, and a fluttering heart, the gentle creature, in a tone which scarcely violated silence, said-'Yes.' 'You vood!' exclaimed the venerable gentleman, tiously!'

sconscien.

He drew back a trifle; and, having gazed in a state of rapture at her lustrous eyes for a moment, threw his arm round her beautiful swan-like neck and clandestinely kissed her.

'Nay, you wicked man,' said the blushing Joanna, 'that's excessively naughty.'

'Vell, give it me back! If you don't like to 'ave it, return it to the lips from vence it came.'

6

'No, that I am sure I'll not do.'

Oh, nonsense!' cried the venerable gentleman, throwing his arm again round her elegant neck, 'I must test your sincerity!"

Don't, Mr. Joseph: you'll rumple my collar: indeed, Mr. Joseph, indeed, indeed you will!'

Joanna struggled very correctly; but the venerable gentleman's ardour increased; and, just as he had succeeded in drawing her sweet lips to his, Bob, who had entered the kitchen during the struggle unperceived, crid 'Hem !'

Had there been a trap-door beneath the gentle Joanna, through which she could at once have disappeared, her disappearance would certainly have been instantaneous, she felt at the moment so dreadfully alarmed; but as there happened to be no such a piece of thea. trical machinery near her, she summoned all her courage, and turning promptly to Bob, said, 'Isn't it too bad, Robert? Here, just because I happen to have won five shillings of Mr. Joseph, he vows he'll have a kiss, which is very unfair, Robert, isn't it now?'

Bob looked at her fiercely, and said in answer to this strong appeal, 'It ain't nothing to me.' He also looked fiercely at his venerable friend, and added, 'I'm a-intruding.'

These indeed were very cutting observations, and they had a very powerful effect. The lovers wished he had been at that moment drinking with Pharaoh and all his host; but as they gave no expres. sion to that wish, he gloomily seated himself near the fire, and looked into it with a most ferocious aspect.

As the venerable gentleman could not of course feel exactly com fortable then, he soon prepared to depart: he took Bob's passive hand, and having bade him good night, Joanna saw him to the door, where he kissed her again, and, singularly enough, she returned it then without any struggling at all

CHAPTER XXXIV.

The Petition; its progress and result.

STANLEY had been nearly a fortnight in the House without having on any occasion risen to speak. During that time he had heard many excellent speeches, and many more which, although delivered in an execrable style, read and told well in the papers. His ambition had therefore been constantly strengthened, and as most men, who feel that they possess the power to shine in the particular circle in which they move, are desirous of cultivating those accomplishments, whatever they may be, by which applause is obtained in that circle, it is not singular that he, possessing the necessary confidence, panted to distinguish himself in that centre from which celebrity radiates throughout the world.

Having studied one important subject deeply, and made himself conversant with all its ramifications, he went down to the House on the fourteenth day of his being a member, with the view of startling the nerves of all parties by the development of what he had in him. Previously, however, to the commencement of the debate in which he intended to take a conspicuous part, an honourable member on the opposite side presented a petition against his return!

At the moment Stanley could with great pleasure have kicked him. He felt in a rage with that man. He might have been, for aught he knew or cared, a virtuous person; but as he returned to his seat with a calm but triumphant smile, having performed what he conceived to be his duty, Stanley looked at him!-in one word, he certainly would have knocked him down, if the forms of the House had allowed it.

It is, perhaps, amazing that the strongest minds are capable of being upset in an instant. A man may have a perfect command over his features; he may have an equally perfect command over his nerves; but he cannot have a perfect command, nor anything like a perfect command, over his mind. He may be able to stand and walk erect; he may be able to maintain the steadiness of his eye and the firmness of his voice; he may be able to suppress every show of emotion, but he cannot suppress the emotion itself. He may have in full bloom what is technically termed 'moral courage,'-for technical the term may be said to be, seeing that physical courage is hard to be defined ;-he may be extremely calm and collected; he may conceal effectually his feelings from others, but from himself they will not be concealed. Within his own breast they are in full operation: their influence may rack him, although the effect be unseen; and precisely thus stood Stanley. He scorned to betray his feelings when the hateful petition was presented, but they were acute notwithstanding: indeed, so acute that they prompted him to withhold that brilliant speech with which he intended to astonish the House. The thing came upon him so unexpectedly, he was not prepared for the blow. He knew of course that the opposing party had been zealous in their efforts to get up a petition, but he had been led by his agents to believe that those efforts had utterly failed: when, however, he actually saw the unblest document, he could no longer lay the flattering unction to his soul which those agents had been from the first prescribing.

'I have been grossly deceived,' said he, addressing Sir William, who sat by his side. Those fellows assured me that the idea of a petition was, under the circumstances, absurd.'

'Oh, it may come to nothing now,' returned the Baronet. This is the last day on which it could be presented. The prosecution of a petition does not of necessity follow its presentation. The chances are that it will yet be abandoned.'

I fear not,' said Stanley.

'Why fear?'

'Because the grounds upon which they stand are too tenable to justify a hope that the thing will be relinquished.'

'The grounds!' exclaimed Sir William. "The grounds have little indeed to do with the matter. It depends upon the committee. If you get a majority, and, of course, we must have a whip for it,-you are safe: you need not care then a single straw about the grounds.'

Stanley appreciated this remark very highly. He knew that, although in strictly barbarous states the system of trying the merits of petitions by a directly responsible tribunal might obtain, it would be in a country so enlightened as this repudiated, not only as ridiculous but dangerous, inasmuch as the practice established was of such surpassing excellence that it rendered the operation of party bias and factious influence almost impossible, and particularly in cases in which parties are so nicely balanced that the loss of a vote on either side is of very