“But I am not always alone,” answered Mr. DIBBLE.  “My clerk, Mr. BLADAMS, now taking a vacation in the country, is generally here though, to be sure, I may lose him before long.  He’s turned literary.”

“How perfectly frightful!” said Miss POTTS.

“He has set up for a genius, my child, and is now engaged upon a great American novel.  Discontented with the law, he is giving great attention to this; but Free Trade will not, I am afraid, allow any American publisher to bring it out.”

“Free Trade?” repeated FLORA.

“Yes, my dear, Free Trade; that is, while American publishers can steal foreign novels for nothing, they are not going to pay anything for native fiction.”

Yawning behind her hand, the Flowerpot murmured something about Free Trade being positively absurd, and her guardian went on: 

“Nevertheless, Mr. BLADAMS is going on-with his work, which he calls ‘The Amateur Detective;’ and if it ever does come out you shall have a copy.—­But, by the by,” added the lawyer, suddenly, “you have not yet fully described to me the interview in which poor Mr. EDWIN’S uncle offered to become your husband.”

She gave him a full history of the Ritualistic organist’s handsome offer to her of his H. and H.; adding her own final decision in the matter as precipitated by the possibility of a General European war; and Mr. DIBBLE heard the whole with an air of studious attention.

“Although I have certainly no particular reason for befriending Mr. BUMSTEAD,” said he, reflectively, “I shall take measures to keep him from you.  Now come with me to FRENCH’S Hotel.  To-morrow I will call there for you, you know, and then, perhaps, you may be taken to see your friend, Miss PENDRAGON.”

Having obtained for his ward a room in the hotel named, and seen her safely to its shelter, the good old lawyer visited the bar-room of the establishment, for the purpose of ascertaining whether any evil-disposed person could get in through that way for the disturbance of his fair charge.  After which he departed for his home in Gowanus.

(To be Continued.)

* * * * *

MOTTO FOR ALL GOOD CUBANS.—­“The labor we delight in physics (S)pain.”

* * * * *

THE PLAYS AND SHOWS.

Punctually as announced, the FIFTH AVENUE THEATRE has re-opened.  It has been improved by the addition of several private boxes that remind one of the square pews in old-fashioned churches, (by the way, why do Puseyites object to pews?) and by the erection of a hydrant near the conductor’s seat, so that when the audience can endure STOEPEL’S music no longer, they can turn on the water and drown him and his long-winded orchestra.  This latter improvement meets with our hearty approval, and we earnestly hope to see it put to the excellent use for which it is designed without further delay.  Manager DALY is now offering to his patrons the new comedy of Man and Wife.  The old-fashioned play of that name, which is daily acted everywhere about us, is usually more of a tragedy than a comedy, but Mr. DALY’S Man and Wife is comedy, farce, muscular christianity, and paralysis pleasantly mingled together.  As thus: