daily habits bespeak them? I say," cried he,
addressing a waiter, "is Sir Horace Upton staying here? Well, will you
say Major Scaresby--be correct in the name--Major Scaresby requests to
pay his respects."

"His Excellency will see you, sir," said the man, returning quickly with
the reply.

From the end of a room, so darkened by closed shutters and curtains as
to make all approach difficult, a weak voice called out, "Ah, Scaresby,
how d' ye do? I was just thinking to myself that I could n't be in
Florence, since I had not seen you."

"You are too good, too kind, Sir Horace, to say so," said the other,
with a voice whose tones by no means corresponded with the words.

"Yes, Scaresby, everything in this good city is in a manner associated
with your name. Its intrigues, its quarrels, its loves and jealousies,
its mysteries, in fine, have had no such interpreter as yourself within
the memory of man! What a pity there were no Scaresbys in the Cinque
Cento! How sad there were none of your family here in the Medician
period! What a picture might we then have had of a society fuller even
than the present of moral delinquencies." There was a degree of
pomposity in the manner he uttered this that served to conceal in a
great measure its sarcasm.

"I am much flattered to learn that I have ever enlightened your
Excellency on any subject," said the Major, dryly.

"That you have, Scaresby. I was a mere dabbler in moral toxicology when
I heard your first lecture, and, I assure you, I was struck by your
knowledge. And how is the dear city doing?"

"It is masquerading to-day," said Scaresby, "and, consequently, far more
natural than at any other period of the whole year. Smeared faces and
dirty finery,--exactly its suitable wear!"

"Who are here, Major? Any one that one knows?"

"Old Millington is here."

"The Marquis?"

"Yes, he 's here, fresh painted and lacquered; his eyes twinkling with
a mock lustre that makes him look like an old po'-chaise with a pair of
new lamps!"

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Sir Horace, encouragingly.

"And then--there's Mabworth."

"Sir Paul Mabworth?"

"Ay, the same old bore as ever! He has got off one of Burke's speeches
on the India Bill by heart, and says that he spoke it on the question of
the grant for Maynooth. Oh, if poor Burke could only look up!"

"Look down! you ought to say, Scaresby; depend upon't, he 's not on the
Opposition benches still!"

"I hate the fellow," said Scaresby, w