one
partickler. None that I am much aware of. How d'ye do, gals and boys?
Mr. Flamwell, sir--glad to see you.'

'Here's Mr. Sparkins!' said Tom, who had been looking out at the window,
'on _such_ a black horse!' There was Horatio, sure enough, on a large
black horse, curvetting and prancing along, like an Astley's
supernumerary. After a great deal of reining in, and pulling up, with
the accompaniments of snorting, rearing, and kicking, the animal
consented to stop at about a hundred yards from the gate, where Mr.
Sparkins dismounted, and confided him to the care of Mr. Malderton's
groom. The ceremony of introduction was gone through, in all due form.
Mr. Flamwell looked from behind his green spectacles at Horatio with an
air of mysterious importance; and the gallant Horatio looked unutterable
things at Teresa.

'Is he the Honourable Mr. Augustus What's-his-name?' whispered Mrs.
Malderton to Flamwell, as he was escorting her to the dining-room.

'Why, no--at least not exactly,' returned that great authority--'not
exactly.'

'Who _is_ he then?'

'Hush!' said Flamwell, nodding his head with a grave air, importing that
he knew very well; but was prevented, by some grave reasons of state,
from disclosing the important secret. It might be one of the ministers
making himself acquainted with the views of the people.

'Mr. Sparkins,' said the delighted Mrs. Malderton, 'pray divide the
ladies. John, put a chair for the gentleman between Miss Teresa and Miss
Marianne.' This was addressed to a man who, on ordinary occasions, acted
as half-groom, half-gardener; but who, as it was important to make an
impression on Mr. Sparkins, had been forced into a white neckerchief and
shoes, and touched up, and brushed, to look like a second footman.

The dinner was excellent; Horatio was most attentive to Miss Teresa, and
every one felt in high spirits, except Mr. Malderton, who, knowing the
propensity of his brother-in-law, Mr. Barton, endured that sort of agony
which the newspapers inform us is experienced by the surrounding
neighbourhood when a pot-boy hangs himself in a hay-loft, and which is
'much easier to be imagined than described.'

'Have you seen your friend, Sir Thomas Noland, lately, Flamwell?'
inquired Mr. Malderton, casting a sidelong look at Horatio, to see what
effect the mention of so great a man had upon him.

'Why, no--not very lately. I saw Lord Gubbleton the day before
yesterday.'

'All! I hope his lo