“In his hot youth, when Crockford’s was the thing.”

glowing with only one glass of brandy, “just to steady his nerves,” he met the lady at a West-End pastry-cook’s.

After a few words (for all the material questions had been settled by correspondence) she stepped into a brougham, and invited Frank to take a seat beside her.  Elated with a compliment of late years so rare, he commenced planning the orgies which were to reward him for weeks of enforced fasting, when the coachman, reverentially touching his hat, looked down from his seat for orders.

“To ninety-nine, George Street, St. James,” cried Fisherton, in his loudest tones.

In an instant the young lady’s pale face changed to scarlet, and then to ghastly green.  In a whisper, rising to a scream, she exclaimed, “Good heavens! you do not mean to go to that man’s house,” (meaning me.) “Indeed, I cannot go to him, on any account; he is a most horrid man, I am told, and charges most extravagantly.”

“Madam,” answered Frank, in great perturbation, “I beg your pardon, but you have been grossly misinformed.  I have known that excellent man these twenty years, and have paid him hundreds on hundreds; but never so much by ten per cent. as you offered me for discounting your bill.”

“Sir, I cannot have anything to do with your friend.”  Then, violently, pulling the check-string, “Stop,” she gasped, “and will you have the goodness to get out?”

“And so I got out,” continued Fisherton, “and lost my time; and the heavy investment I made in getting myself up for the assignation—­new primrose gloves, and a shilling to the hair-dresser—­hang her!  But, did you ever know anything like the prejudices that must prevail against you?  I am disgusted with human nature.  Could you lend me half a sovereign till Saturday?”

I smiled.  I sacrificed the half sovereign, and let him go, for he is not exactly the person to whom it was advisable to intrust all the secrets relating to the Honorable Miss Snape.  Since that day I look each morning in the police reports with considerable interest; but, up to the present hour, the Honorable Miss Snape has lived and thrived in the best society.

THE YOUNG ADVOCATE.

Antoine de Chaulieu was the son of a poor gentleman of Normandy, with a long genealogy, a short rent-roll, and a large family.  Jacques Rollet was the son of a brewer, who did not know who his grandfather was; but he had a long purse and only two children.  As these youths flourished in the early days of liberty, equality, and fraternity, and were near neighbors, they naturally hated each other.  Their enmity commenced at school, where the delicate and refined De Chaulieu, being the only gentilhomme among the scholars, was the favorite of the master, (who was a bit of an aristocrat in his heart,) although he was about the worst dressed boy in the establishment,