way through a well dressed crowd, follow the servant that announces them, with the air of a culprit called up to receive sentence; and whilst paying their devoirs to the lady of the house, generally contrive to tread on the dress of one fair guest, endanger the blonde ruffles of another, and stumble over the demi train of a third. Then they slink into a corner, or entrench themselves behind a door; their hair literally uncurling from terror at their own temerity; and they twist the fingers of their kid gloves into strings, or twirl about some apology for a bouquet that has been stuck in their coat. "Look on this likeness, and then on that," and confess that ambassadors are benefactors to the fashionable world at least, if it were but for encouraging the cultivation of such elegant additions to the adorers of the ladies patronesses of Almacks; and for being the means of furnishing tailors, and army clothiers, with excellent walking figures on which to display new fashions, and smart regimentals. Oh the ineffable selfsatisfaction of the "Attaché !" One can perceive at a glance that he is among the favoured of fashion. Has he not the privilege of the entrée levée ? Is not his presence commanded at royal banquets, court balls, ministerial fêtes? Has he not "carte blanche" as to cards of invitation for dances, dinners, pic-nics, petits soupers, select soirées, dejeuners à la fourchette, and grand conversaziones? Opera boxes fly open at his approach; mammas, and chaperones smile on him; even young ladies, who are on the look out for eligible offers, will condescend to waltz with him, though he were merely secretary of legation from some high, and mighty potentate, with a dozen christian names, three score styles, and titles, and five leagues of territories. Is not his life "couleur de rose" of the most delicate tint, his days and nights but alternations of pleasure and repose? Except, perhaps, on occasions when ambassadors are so unreasonable as to expect that young gentlemen, calling themselves secretaries, will perform the duties of those functionaries. More especially if their excellencies are great sticklers for duty; old general officers, with whom punctuality, and regu larity are ranked before the cardinal virtues; and a delay of five seconds after his watch has indicated the appointed time, is tantamount to "lese majesté." Such evergreen veterans will not scruple to summon from his downy couch, (to which he only repaired at six,) a young attaché; and at the unseasonable hour of eight, will rouse him from his first sleep, interrupt a delightful dream of his last night's partner, oblige him to pen a dry dispatch, whilst he is pondering on a tender declaration; and though his victim has barely time to follow the rapid utterance of the diplomatist, the latter will dictate to three at once, in as many different languages, and with the most provoking nonchalance imaginable. These, however, are but transient shadows, passing clouds, that do but enhance the brightness of the heavens. Still he enjoys his day; and even in after life, prosperous though it may be, and he perhaps a shining light in the political hemisphere, he looks back with regret, and envy, on the life of "The young Attaché." STANZAS, BY LOUIS. I. One thought of thee, while rosy evening lends II. One tear for thee-ere day's first dawn efface That flung the rainbow o'er life's bitterest tears III. One prayer for thee, if aught so pure, so good, SNAPLY SINGLETON; OR, MY COUSIN THE STOCKBROKER. (By the author of Misleton Mordaunt) WHEN old Scratch, (I beg pardon, I should say the old gentleman,) has nothing to do, (rather an uncommon circumstance, considering that according to Dr. Watt's authority, he is superintendant in chief of the Grand National Mischief Manufactory, and finds full employment for idle hands;) "Au reste," when the said gentleman in black is slack of work, he very often is so obliging as to meddle in the affairs of those who have no desire of attracting his attention; but his watchfulness for mischief, and the carelessness of his victims, renders his task a very easy one. Amongst the numerous, specious, pleasant ways of going wrong, besides gaming, extravagance, and other charming little peccadilloes, there is not a more delightful one, than for two people to fall in love, marry in haste, and then repent for the remainder of their lives. In plain English, "a love match," is often one of his best baits; and by the time the honeymoon has been past, either in touring to the Lakes, or steaming up the Rhine, or ruralising in a damp cottage, they are disposed to find everything in life "flat, stale, and unprofitable!" "So, my dear madam, have you heard of this marriage of Herbert Dalton, and pretty Helen Mortimer?" enquired Mrs. Major Wrangleby of the Dowager Lady Toplofty, after they bad secured partners for their daughters, and were quietly sat down to a snug bit of scandal. "Goodness, no!" exclaimed Lady Toplofty, shaking a very overpowering plume of ostrich feathers. never heard a word of it hinted, even by Mrs. Mortimer." "Of course not; Mrs. Mortimer had her reasons for keeping her own counsel," said Mrs. Major Wrangleby, looking wise. "I always thought Helen was to marry Sir Gregsby Grimthorpe." 66 What, the old Yorkshire baronet with the glass eye? Oh! that would never have been a match; I foresaw that long ago; for though Mrs. Mortimer tried very hard to get on Sir Gregsby's blind side, Helen made no secret of her dislike to him." "Then I heard that Herbert Dalton had proposed for Lady Mary Trepollard." "So had I; but though Lady Mary has that huge castle at the Land's End, and heaven knows how many acres, and coal mines to her fortune, she has a very formidable hump on her back, and the worst temper in the world. So we need not wonder at Herbert's running off with Miss Mortimer." "Was it a runaway match?" 66 Why! almost; it has taken place without Mrs. Mortimer's consent. Poor things! they will be badly off; Helen has very little fortune." "I always understood that Dalton would be rich?" "Yes, the family reported something to that effect; but Herbert, though an elder son, is poor; his younger brother is heir to the title and property." "How is that, my dear Mrs. Wrangleby; is Herbert Dalton a natural son?” "Oh, no! he is the only son by the first marriage; his father, who was a poor sprig of nobility, married, two years after the death of his wife, his cousin Lady Dalton, a peeress in her own right; and, of course, her title and estates descend to Clifford Dalton, her own son, and who is Herbert's half brother." "Oh, I understand," said Lady Toplofty. "Then if Herbert Dalton is so poor-for I'm sure his father had little to leave him-why didn't he marry Lady Mary?" "That, my dear madam, is what all his friends wonder at too. I suppose that an heiress with a hump possessed as few charms for him, as a baronet with a glass eye did for Miss Mortimer; and like other silly boys and girls, they prefer "Love in a cottage," even at the risk of the little god's taking French leave, when poverty comes as a visitor." "Which will soon be the case, I fear?" "Yes; unless that old cousin of Herbert's, the rich stockbroker, does something for them; and as Lady Dalton has always made a point of insulting him whenever he came into her husband's house; I do not imagine that her step-son will benefit by his relationship to him." "Well, of all the haughty, disagreeable women I ever knew, Lady Dalton is "Hush!" said Mrs. Wrangleby, "here she comes, and her son with her." "How she watches that poor young man, as if she thought we had a design upon him; what an excellent duenna she would make." The approach of Lady Dalton, saved her character from being further cut up by her very good friends, who rose to greet her in the kindest, and most affectionate manner. We can imagine what is said on similar occasions; and instead of listening to scandal, and small talk, it will be better to follow the newlymarried lovers to the bridal retreat they had chosen. * * * "Now, Helen, what think you of our new home?" enquired Herbert Dalton of his bride, as they stood together on the lawn of their cottage ornée, on the evening of their wedding day. 66 "Beautiful!" exclaimed Helen; 'just what I pictured to myself it would be." "It is not quite as magnificent as Grimthorpe Abbey," observed Herbert, with an arch smile. "Poor Sir Gregsby !" "Nor quite as spacious as Trepollard Castle," rejoined Helen!" Poor Lady Mary! Do you know, Herbert, that I intend to become quite domestic what a paradise our cottage home shall be; I could willingly pass my life here; I hope you intend to let me remain in it ?" "I have taken it for six months; the landlord has never lived here, but his agent has done wonders for Look Helen, here is a conservatory, opening into your drawing room, a verandah running in front of it; those pretty flower beds, and the lawn, sloping towards us. |