er reasons, which his family not long afterwards came to understand,
for the gloom and low spirits which now oppressed the head of their
home.

It was observed (that is, if simple little Rosey took the trouble to
observe) that the entertainments at the Colonel's mansion were more
frequent and splendid even than before; the silver cocoa-nut tree was
constantly in requisition, and around it were assembled many new guests,
who had not formerly been used to sit under those branches. Mr. Sherrick
and his wife appeared at those parties, at which the proprietor of Lady
Whittlesea's Chapel made himself perfectly familiar. Sherrick cut jokes
with the master of the house, which the latter received with a very
grave acquiescence; he ordered the servants about, addressing the butler
as "Old Corkscrew," and bidding the footman, whom he loved to call by
his Christian name, to "look alive." He called the Colonel "Newcome"
sometimes, and facetiously speculated upon the degree of relationship
subsisting between them now that his daughter was married to Clive's
uncle, the Colonel's brother-in-law. Though I dare say Clive did not
much relish receiving news of his aunt, Sherrick was sure to bring such
intelligence when it reached him; and announced, in due time, the birth
of a little cousin at Boggley Wollah, whom the fond parents designed to
name "Thomas Newcome Honeyman."

A dreadful panic and ghastly terror seized poor Clive on occasion which
he described to me afterwards. Going out from home one day with his
father, he beheld a wine-merchant's cart, from which hampers were
carried down the area gate into the lower regions of Colonel Newcome's
house. "Sherrick and Co., Wine Merchants, Walpole Street," was painted
upon the vehicle.

"Good heavens! sir, do you get your wine from him?" Clive cried out
to his father, remembering Honeyman's provisions in early times. The
Colonel, looking very gloomy and turning red, said, "Yes, he bought
wine from Sherrick, who had been very good-natured and serviceable;
and who--and who, you know, is our connexion now." When informed of
the circumstance by Clive, I too, as I confess, thought the incident
alarming.

Then Clive, with a laugh, told me of a grand battle which had
taken place in consequence of Mrs. Mackenzie's behaviour to the
wine-merchant's wife. The Campaigner had treated this very kind and
harmless, but vulgar woman, with extreme hauteur--had talked loud during
her singing--the beauty o