very upright, and who
seldom speaks, and never has a cold in his head."

"You don't care for any one in particular?" asked Temple, meekly.

"Of course not; no more than for the color of the horse in a hansom.
If Blagden hints anything about dining with him, say I don't dine out;
though I serve her Majesty, I do not mean to destroy my constitution,
and I know what a Legation dinner means, with a Scotchman for the chief
of the mission. I 'm so thankful he 's not married, or we should have
his wife calling on my Lady. You can dine there if you like; indeed,
perhaps, you ought. If Blagden has an opera-box, say my Lady likes the
theatre. I think that's all. Stay, don't let him pump you about my going
to Vienna; and drop in on me when you come back."

Lord Culduff was fast asleep in a deep arm-chair before his
dressing-room fire when Temple returned. The young man looked wearied
and worn out, as well he might; for the Minister had insisted on going
over the whole "question" to him, far less, indeed, for his information
or instruction, than to justify every step the Legation had taken, and
to show the utter unfairness and ungenerosity of the Foreign Office in
sending out a special mission to treat a matter which the accredited
envoy was already bringing to a satisfactory conclusion.

"No, no, my dear boy, no blue-books, no correspondence. I shook my
religious principles in early life by reading Gibbon, and I never was
quite sure of my grammar since I studied diplomatic despatches. Just
tell me the matter as you 'd tell a scandal or a railway accident."

"Where shall I begin, then?"

"Begin where _we_ come in."

"Ah, but I can't tell where that is. You know, of course, that there was
a filibustering expedition which landed on the coast, and encountered
the revenue guard, and overpowered them, and were in turn attacked,
routed, and captured by the Royal troops."

"Ta, ta, ta! I don't want all that. Come down to the events of
June--June 27 they call it."

"Well, it was on that day when the 'Ercole' was about to get under
weigh, with two hundred of these fellows sentenced to the galleys for
life, that a tremendous storm broke over the Bay of Naples. Since the
memorable hurricane of '92 there had been nothing like it. The sea-wall
of the Chiaja was washed away, and a frigate was cast on shore at
Caserta with her bowsprit in the palace windows; all the lower town was
under water, and many lives lost. But the damage at sea