a noble British peer.

"Will your ladyship," says he, slivering off the wing of a pully ally
bashymall, "allow me to help you?"

"I thank you! no; but I will trouble Monsieur de l'Orge." And towards
that gnlmn she turned, with a most tender and fasnating smile.

"Your ladyship has taken a very sudden admiration for Mr. de l'Orge's
carving. You used to like mine once."

"You are very skilful; but to-day, if you will allow me, I will partake
of something a little simpler."

The Frenchman helped; and, being so happy, in cors, spilt the gravy.
A great blob of brown sos spurted on to master's chick, and myandrewed
down his shert-collar and virging-white weskit.

"Confound you!" says he, "M. de l'Orge, you have done this on purpose."
And down went his knife and fork, over went his tumbler of wine, a deal
of it into poar Miss Griffinses lap, who looked fritened and ready to
cry.

My lady bust into a fit of laffin, peel upon peel, as if it was the best
joak in the world. De l'Orge giggled and grin'd too. "Pardong," says he;
"meal pardong, mong share munseer." * And he looked as if he would have
done it again for a penny.

* In the long dialogues, we have generally ventured to
change the peculiar spelling of our friend Mr. Yellowplush.

The little Frenchman was quite in extasis; he found himself all of a
suddn at the very top of the trea; and the laff for onst turned against
his rivle: he actialy had the ordassaty to propose to my lady in English
to take a glass of wine.

"Veal you," says he, in his jargin, "take a glas of Madere viz me, mi
ladi?" And he looked round, as if he'd igsackly hit the English manner
and pronunciation.

"With the greatest pleasure," says Lady G., most graciously nodding at
him, and gazing at him as she drank up the wine. She'd refused master
before, and THIS didn't increase his good-humer.

Well, they went on, master snarling, snapping, and swearing, making
himself, I must confess, as much of a blaggard as any I ever see; and
my lady employing her time betwigst him and the shevalliay, doing every
think to irritate master, and flatter the Frenchmn. Desert came: and by
this time, Miss was stock-still with fright, the chevaleer half tipsy
with pleasure and gratafied vannaty, my lady puffickly raygent with
smiles and master bloo with rage.

"Mr. Deuceace," says my lady, in a most winning voice, after a little
chaffing (in which she only worked him up moar and moar), "may I troubl