ng invitation to take intire
possession of me, even on the very heels of the dog-days. Ha, William,
how are you, my boy? and dear Freddy, how are you? How wonderfully you
are both grown. No need to inquire if you are well; you must have been
playing a capital knife and fork this last year, young gentlemen, but
that's not surprising; you live in clover here at old Clairmont as
usual. Fat Scotch cattle and black-faced sheep in the meadows, and a
crowd of noble bucks in the park.'

'Et les poissons,' said Melange, edging in his remark as he stood making
some arrangement required by his master. 'Les jolis poissons qui
s'eleveront de temps hors l'eau, pour dire a leur facon vous etes les
bienvenus, Messieurs, nous aurons l'honneur de vous regaler. Ah, c'etait
un coup d'oeil ravissant.'

The boys laughed aloud, and Mr. Stanhope could hardly preserve his
gravity, but Sir William gave Melange a look that seemed a deathblow to
his flippancy, for he moved off directly to the care of his jars and
hampers.

'And your pheasants, how are they? Suppose you have had grouse this
fortnight? However, for fear of the worst, I've brought a few brace. Are
your partridges lovable? But I forgot; you never disturb them till next
month. But I should not dare to touch them if you could set me down to a
covey just now; my stomach would take it fearfully amiss if I were to
call upon it for any service at present, after all the bumpings and
thumpings it has just suffered. But stay, before they carry me off I
should like to ascertain the extent of the mischief we have sustained.
Melange, get into the carriage and examine the contents of the
sword-case and all the little private recesses. What a ruin it is!'

The valet skipped in.

'Well, is the _curacoa_ safe?'

'No, sir, the bottle is smashed to atoms.'

'Not a drop left?'

'Not a drop, monsieur.'

'Well, it was a liquor fit for the gods, and George the Fourth--made
after old Goddard's recipe. His late Majesty used to say he never tasted
any so excellent. And my "Treatise on the Wines of the Ancients," where
is it?'

'Here, sir'--holding it up outside the coach-door.

'Actually seasoned with sardines; not a page legible, I fear. And
there's the "Cook's Oracle," dumb as a fish, drowned in claret, and a
new edition of "Ude" soaked, I'm aware, in one of his own delicious
_consommes_. This is sad work, indeed! And the glaze?'

'Smashed, monsieur.'

'Oh, ruin upon ruin! Best portable so