he Treasury. His failures in these
attempts at Admirable Crichtonism would abash even confidence great as
his, but that he is surrounded by a little staff of admirers, who fend
off the sneers of the audience, and, like buffers, break the rude shocks
of worldly collision. Socially, he is the tyrant of this capital; for
having learning enough to be more than a match for those he encounters,
and skill enough to give his paradoxes a mock air of authority, he
usurps a degree of dictation and rule that makes society mere slavery.
You 'll meet him to-morrow evening, and you'll see if he does not know
more of Mexico and Savannah life than you do. Take care, I say, that you
venture not into the wilds of the Pampas; for you'll have his
companionship, not as fellow-traveller, but as guide and instructor. As
for myself, whenever I read in the papers of meetings to petition
Parliament to repeal this or redress that, in the name of 'Justice to
Ireland,' I ask, why does nobody pray for the recall of the Dean of
Drumcondera?"

"Here's mamma," whispered Olivia, as the drawing-room door opened.

"We've done the Dean, mamma," said Miss Kennyfeck, with calm composure.

"Well, don't you feel that you love him already? Mr. Cashel, confess
that you participate in all my raptures. Oh dear! I do so admire talent
and genius," exclaimed Mrs. Kennyfeck, theatrically.

Cashel smiled, and muttered something unintelligible; and Olivia read
on, but with a rapidity that showed the names required no special
notice. "The Craufurds, the Smythes, Mrs. Felix Brown, Lady Emmeline
Grove."

"Oh, that dear Lady Emmeline! a most gifted creature; she 's the
authoress of some sweet poems. She wrote that touching sonnet in the
'Nobility's Gallery of Loveliness,' beginning, 'Twin Sister of the
Evening Star.' I'm sure you know it."

"I 'm unfortunate enough never to have seen it," said Cashel.

"Well, you shall see the writer to-morrow evening; I must really take
care that you are acquainted. People will tell you that she is affected,
and takes airs of authorship; but remember her literary success,--think
of her contributions to the 'Court Journal.'"

"Those sweet flatteries of the nobility that Linton calls court-plaster,
mamma," said Miss Kennyfeck, laughing maliciously.

"Linton is very abusive," said her mother, tartly; "he never has a good
word for any one."

"He used to be a pet of yours, mamma," insinuated Olivia.

"So he was till he became so int