the catastrophe with
slaves holding cushions behind her, to shield her plump person from the
cinders! Yes, old Mrs Pliny shall be my heroine!" says Clive. A picture
of her on a dark grey paper and touched up with red at the extremities,
exists in Clive's album to the present day.

As they were laughing, rattling, wondering, mimicking, the cicerone
attending them with his nasal twaddle, anon pausing and silent, yielding
to the melancholy pity and wonder which the aspect of that strange and
smiling place inspires,--behold they come upon another party of English,
two young men accompanying a lady.

"What, Clive!" cries one.

"My dear, dear Lord Kew!" shouts the other; and as the young man rushes
up and grasps the two hands of the other, they begin to blush----

Lord Kew and his family resided in a neighbouring hotel on the Chiafa at
Naples; and that very evening on returning from the Pompeian excursion,
the two painters were invited to take tea by those friendly persons. J.
J. excused himself, and sate at home drawing all night. Clive went,
and passed a pleasant evening; in which all sorts of future tours and
pleasure-parties were projected by the young men. They were to visit
Paestum, Capri, Sicily; why not Malta and the East? asked Lord Kew.

Lady Walham was alarmed. Had not Kew been in the East already? Clive was
surprised and agitated too. Could Kew think of going to the East, and
making long journeys when he had--he had other engagements that would
necessitate his return home? No, he must not go to the East, Lord Kew's
mother avowed; Kew had promised to stay with her during the summer
at Castellammare, and Mr. Newcome must come and paint their portraits
there--all their portraits. She would like to have an entire
picture-gallery of Kews, if her son would remain at home during the
sittings.

At an early hour Lady Walham retired to rest, exacting Clive's promise
to come to Castellammare; and George Barnes disappeared to array himself
in an evening costume, and to pay his round of visits as became a young
diplomatist. This part of diplomatic duty does not commence until after
the opera at Naples; and society begins when the rest of the world has
gone to bed.

Kew and Clive sate till one o'clock in the morning, when the latter
returned to his hotel. Not one of those fine parties at Paestum, Sicily,
etc. was carried out. Clive did not go to the East at all, and it was
J. J, who painted Lord Kew's portrait that summ