will cure him; or, at least, it ought to.

"You see, in crossing over to Liverpool in the steamer, I became
acquainted with a charming young lady, who proved to be a second-cousin
of my father's. She belongs to the aristocratic branch of our family.
Every family tree has an aristocratic branch, or bough, or little twig
at least, I believe. She was a Todworth; and having always heard my
other relations mention with immense pride and respect the
Todworths,--as if it was one of the solid satisfactions of life to be
able to speak of 'my uncle Todworth,' or 'my cousins the Todworths,'--I
was prepared to appreciate my extreme good fortune. She was a bride,
setting out on her wedding tour. She had married a sallow, bilious,
perfumed, very disagreeable fellow,--except that he too was an
aristocrat, and a millionnaire besides, which made him very agreeable;
at least, I thought so. That was before I rode in Madam Waldoborough's
carriage: since which era in my life I have slightly changed my habits
of thinking on these subjects.

"Well, the fair bride was most gratifyingly affable, and cousined me to
my heart's content. Her husband was no less friendly: they not only
petted me, but I think they really liked me; and by the time we reached
London I was on as affectionately familiar terms with them as a younger
brother could have been. If I had been a Todworth, they couldn't have
made more of me. They insisted on my going to the same hotel with them,
and taking a room adjoining their suite. This was a happiness to which I
had but one objection,--my limited pecuniary resources. My family are
neither aristocrats nor millionnaires; and economy required that I
should place myself in humble and inexpensive lodgings for the two or
three weeks I was to spend in London. But vanity! vanity! I was actually
ashamed, sir, to do the honest and true thing,--afraid of disgracing my
branch of the family in the eyes of the Todworth branch, and of losing
the fine friends I had made, by confessing my poverty. The bride, I
confess, was a delightful companion; but I know other ladies just as
interesting, although they do not happen to be Todworths. For her sake,
personally, I should never have thought of committing the folly; and
still less, I assure you, for that piece of perfumed and
yellow-complexioned politeness, her husband. It was pride, sir, pride
that ruined me. They went to Cox's Hotel, in Jermyn Street; and I,
simpleton as I was, went with th