s. Colonel Green when
she took her departure for Europe with her numerous little family on
board the Burrumpooter.

And now you have the explanation of the title of this chapter, and know
wherefore Thomas Newcome never sat in Parliament. Where are our dear old
friends now? Where are Rosey's chariots and horses? Where her jewels and
gewgaws? Bills are up in the fine new house. Swarms of Hebrew gentlemen
with their hats on are walking about the drawing-rooms, peering into
the bedrooms, weighing and poising the poor old silver cocoa-nut tree,
eyeing the plate and crystal, thumbing the damask of the curtains,
and inspecting ottomans, mirrors, and a hundred articles of splendid
trumpery. There is Rosey's boudoir which her father-in-law loved to
ornament--there is Clive's studio with a hundred sketches--there is
the Colonel's bare room at the top of the house, with his little
iron bedstead and ship's drawers, and a camel trunk or two which have
accompanied him on many an Indian march, and his old regulation sword,
and that one which the native officers of his regiment gave him when
he bade them farewell. I can fancy the brokers' faces as they look
over this camp wardrobe, and that the uniforms will not fetch much in
Holywell Street. There is the old one still, and that new one which he
ordered and wore when poor little Rosey was presented at court. I had
not the heart to examine their plunder, and go amongst those wreckers.
F. B. used to attend the sale regularly, and report its proceedings
to us with eyes full of tears. "A fellow laughed at me," says F. B.,
"because when I came into the dear old drawing-room I took my hat off.
I told him that if he dared say another word I would knock him down." I
think F. B. may be pardoned in this instance for emulating the office of
auctioneer. Where are you, pretty Rosey and poor little helpless baby?
Where are you, dear Clive--gallant young friend of my youth? Ah! it is a
sad story--a melancholy page to pen! Let us pass it over quickly--I love
not to think of my friend in pain.

CHAPTER LXXI. In which Mrs. Clive Newcome's Carriage is ordered

All the friends of the Newcome family, of course, knew the disaster
which had befallen the good Colonel, and I was aware, for my own part,
that not only his own, but almost the whole of Rosa Newcome's property
was involved in the common ruin. Some proposals of temporary relief were
made to our friends from more quarters than one, but were