Oft hath an inexperienced mushroom-hunter, deceived at a distance, run up to secure what seemed to be a fine cluster of mushrooms, growing under the shade of a stately tree, but which, on stooping down to gather them, he discovers with disappointment and disgust to be no mushrooms at all, but vile, unwholesome—even poisonous funguses: which, to prevent their similarly deluding others, he kicks up and crushes under foot. And is not this a type of what often happens in society? Under the "cold shade of aristocracy," how often is to be met with—the SYCOPHANT?—Mr. Venom Tuft was one of them. His character was written in his face. Disagreeable to look at—though he thought far otherwise—he yet contrived to make himself pleasant to be listened to, for a while, by the languid and ennuyé fashionable. He spoke ever—
"In a toady's key,
With bated breath and whispering humbleness."
His person was at once effeminate and coarse; his gesture and address were cringing—there was an intolerable calmness and gentleness about them at all times, but especially while laboring in his vocation. He had the art of administering appropriate and acceptable flattery by a look only, deferential and insinuating—as well as by words. He had always at command a copious store of gossip, highly seasoned with scandal; which he collected and prepared with industry and judgment. Clever toadies are generally bitter ones. With sense enough to perceive, but not spirit enough to abandon their odious propensities, they are aware of the ignominious spectacle they exhibit before the eyes of men of the least degree of independence and discernment, and whose open contempt they have not power or manliness enough to resent. Then their smothered rage takes an inward turn; it tends to, and centres in the tongue, from which it falls in drops of scalding virus; and thus it is, that the functions of sycophant and slanderer are so often found united in the same miserable individual. Does a sycophant fancy that his patron—if one may use such a term—is not aware of his degrading character and position? Would that he could but hear himself spoken of by those in whose presence he has last been prostrating himself! If he could but for one moment "see himself as others see him"—surely he would instantly wriggle out of the withering sight of man! But Mr. Tuft was not an everyday toady. Being a clever man, it occurred to him as calculated infinitely to enhance the value of his attentions, if he could get them to be regarded as those of a man of some ability and reputation. So reasonable a wish, as thus to rise to eminence in the calling in life to which he had devoted himself—viz. toadyism—stimulated him to considerable exertion, which was in time rewarded by a measure of success; for he began to be looked on as something of a literary man. Then he would spend his mornings in reading up, in those quarters whence he might cull materials for display in society at a later period of the day; when he would watch his opportunity, or, if none presented itself, make one, by diverting the current of conversation into the channel on which was the gay and varied bordering of his very recent acquisitions. All his knowledge was of this gossiping pro hâc vice character.–He was very skilful in administering his flattery. Did he dine with his Grace, or his Lordship, whose speech in the House appeared in that or the preceding day's newspapers? Mr. Tuft got it up carefully, and also the speech in answer to it, with a double view—to show himself at home in the question! and then to differ a little with his Grace, or his Lordship, in order to be presently convinced, and set right by them! Or when conversation turned upon the topics which had, over-night, called up his Grace or his Lordship on his legs, Mr. Tuft would softly break in by observing that such and such a point had been "admirably put in the debate by some one of the speakers—he did not recollect whom;" and on being apprised of, and receiving a courteous bow from, the great man entitled to the undesigned compliment, look so surprised—almost, indeed, piqued! Carefully, however, as he managed matters, he was soon found out by men, and compelled to betake himself, with ten-fold ardor, to the women, with whom he lasted a little longer. They considered him a great literary man; for he could quote and criticise a good deal of poetry, and abuse many novels. He could show that what everybody else admired was full of faults; what all condemned was admirable: so that the fair creatures were forced to distrust their own judgment, in proportion as they deferred to his. He would allow no one to be entitled to the praise of literary excellence except individuals of rank, and one or two men of established literary reputation, who had not thought it worth their while to repel his obsequious advances, or convenient not to do so. Then he would polish the poetry of fine ladies, touch up their little tales, and secure their insertion in fashionable periodicals. On these accounts, and of his piquant tittle-tattle, no soirée or conversazione was complete without him, any more than without tea, coffee, ice, or lemonade. All toadies hate one another; but his brethren both hated and feared Mr. Tuft; for he was not only so successful himself, but possessed and used such engines for depressing them. Mr. Tuft had hoped to succeed in being popped in by one of his patrons for a snug little borough; but the great man got tired of him, and turned him off, though the ladies of the family still secured him occasional access to the dinner-table. He did not, however, make a very grateful return for such good-natured condescensions. Ugly and ungainly as he was, he yet imagined himself possessed of personal attractions for the ladies, and converted their innocent and unsuspecting familiarities, which had emanated from those confident in their purity and their elevation, into tokens of the ascendency he had gained over them; and of which, with equal cruelty, folly, and presumption, he would afterwards boast pretty freely. Till this came, however, to be suspected and discovered, Mr. Tuft visited a good many leading houses in town, and spent no inconsiderable portion of each autumn at some one or other of the country mansions of his patrons—from whose "castles," "halls," "abbeys," "priories," and "seats," he took great pride in dating his letters to his friends. I must not forget to mention that he kept a book, very gorgeously bound and embellished, with silver-gilt clasps, and bearing on the back the words—"Book of Autographs;" but I should have written it—"Trophies of Toadyism." This book contained autograph notes of the leading nobility, addressed familiarly to himself, thus:—
"The Duke of Walworth presents his compliments to Mr. Tuft, and feels particularly obliged by," &c.
"The Duchess of Diamond hopes Mr. Tuft will not forget to bring with him this evening," &c.
"The Marquis of M– has the honor to assure Mr. Tuft that," &c.
"Dear Mr. Tuft,
"Why were you not at – House last night? We were dreadfully dull without you! X – just as stupid as you always say he is."
[This was from a very pretty and fashionable countess, whose initials it bore.]
"If Mr. Tuft is dead, Lady Dulcimer requests to be informed when his funeral will take place, as she, together with a host of mourners, intends to show him a last mark of respect."
"Dear Mr. Tuft,
"The poodle you brought me has got the mange, or some horrid complaint or other, which is making all his hair fall off. Do come and tell me what is to be done. Where can I send the sweet suffering angel?—Yours,
Arabella D–."
[This was from the eldest and loveliest daughter of a very great duke.]
"The Lord Chancellor presents his compliments, and begs to acknowledge the receipt of Mr. Venom Tuft's obliging present of his little 'Essay on Greatness.'"
These are samples, taken at random, of the contents of Mr. Tuft's book of autographs, evidencing abundantly the satisfactory terms of intimacy upon which he lived with the great; and it was ecstasy to him, to see this glittering record of his triumphs glanced over by the envious admiring eyes of those in his own station in society. How he delighted to be asked about the sayings and doings of the exclusive circles! How confidentially would he intimate the desperate condition of a sick peer—an expected éclaircissement of some fashionable folly and crime—or a move to be made in the Upper House that evening! Poor Tuft little suspecting (lying so snug in his shell of self-conceit) how frequently he fell, on these occasions, among the Philistines—and was, unconsciously to himself, being trotted out by a calm sarcastic hypocrite, for the amusement of the standers-by, just as a little monkey is poked with a stick to get up and exhibit himself and his tricks. Such was Mr. Tuft, a great friend and admirer of "the marquis," through whose influence he had procured the invitation from Titmouse, in virtue of which he was now dressing in a nice little room at the back of the Hall, overlooking the stables; being bent upon improving his already tolerably familiar acquaintance with the Earl of Dreddlington and Lady Cecilia, and also extracting from the man whose hospitality he was enjoying, materials for merriment among his great friends against the next season.
When the party had collected in the drawing-room in readiness for dinner, you might have seen Mr. Tuft in earnestly respectful conversation with the Lady Cecilia; Mr. Gammon standing talking to Miss Macspleuchan, with an air of courteous ease and frankness—having observed her sitting neglected by everybody; the earl conversing now with the marquis, then with Titmouse, and anon with Tuft, with whom he appeared to be particularly pleased. Happening at length to be standing near Gammon—a calm, gentlemanlike person of whom he knew nothing, nor suspected that his keen eye had taken in his Lordship's true character and capacity at a glance; nor that he would, in a few hours' time, acquire as complete a mastery over his said Lordship, as ever the present famous hippodamist at Windsor,26 by touching a nerve in the mouth of a horse, reduces him to helpless docility and submission—the earl and he fell into casual conversation for a moment or two. The air of deference with which Gammon received the slight advances of the great man, was exquisite and indescribable. It gave him clearly to understand that his lofty pretensions were known to, and profoundly appreciated by, the individual whom he was addressing. Gammon said but little: that little, however, how significant and decisive! He knew that the earl would presently inquire of Titmouse who the unknown visitor was; and that on being told, in the conceited and probably disparaging manner which Gammon knew Titmouse would adopt, if he supposed it would please the earl, that "it was only Mr. Gammon, one of his solicitors," he would sink at once and forever beneath the notice of the earl. He resolved, therefore, to anticipate—to contrive that it should ooze out easily and advantageously from himself, so that he could see the effect it had upon the earl, and regulate his movements accordingly. Gammon sat down before the fortress of the earl's pride, resolved that, for all it appeared so inaccessible and impregnable, it should fall, however his skill and patience might be taxed in the siege. Till he had cast his piercing eye upon the earl, Gammon had felt a little of the nervousness which one may imagine would be experienced by Van Amburgh, who, on being called into the presence of majesty to give a specimen of his skill upon an animal concealed from him, of whose name and qualities he was ignorant—should summon all his terrors into his eye, and string his muscles to their highest tension; and, on the door being opened, turn with smiling scorn—if not indignation—from a sucking pig, a calf, an ass, or a chicken. Something similar were the feelings experienced by Gammon, as soon as he had scanned the countenance and figure of the Earl of Dreddlington. He quickly perceived that the dash of awe which he had thrown into his manner was producing its due effect upon that most magnificent simpleton. Watching his opportunity, he gently introduced the topic of the recent change of ownership which Yatton had undergone; and in speaking of the manner in which Mr. Titmouse had borne his sudden prosperity—"Yes, my Lord," continued Gammon, with apparent carelessness, "I recollect making some such observation to him, and he replied, 'Very true, Mr. Gammon'"—Gammon finished his sentence calmly; but he perceived that the earl had withdrawn himself into his earldom. He had given a very slight start; a little color had mounted into his cheek; a sensible hauteur had been assumed, and by the time that Gammon had done speaking, the space between them had been—as Lord Dreddlington imagined, unobservedly—increased by two or three inches. Gammon was a man—an able and a proud man—and he felt galled; but, "let it pass," he presently reflected—"let it pass, you pompous old idiot; I will one day repay it with interest." The earl separated from him, Gammon regarding him as a gaudy craft sheering off for a while, but doomed to be soon sunk. Mr. Tuft, (who was the son of a respectable retired tobacconist,) having ascertained that Gammon was only Mr. Titmouse's attorney, conducted himself for a while as though there were no such person in the room; but being a quick observer, and catching once or twice the faint sarcastic smile with which Gammon's eye was settled on him, he experienced a very galling and uneasy consciousness of his presence. The marquis's superior tact and perception of character led him to treat Gammon very differently—with a deference and anxiety to please him, which Gammon understood thoroughly—in fact, he and the marquis had many qualities in common, but Gammon was the man of power. During dinner he sat beside Miss Macspleuchan, and was almost the only person who spoke to her—in fact, he said but little to any one else. He took wine with Titmouse with a marked, but guarded, air of confidence. The marquis took wine with Gammon with an air of studied courtesy. The earl's attention was almost entirely engrossed by Mr. Tuft, who sat next to him, chattering in his ear like a little magpie perched upon his shoulder. The marquis sat next to the Lady Cecilia; for whose amusement, as far as his cautious tact would allow him, he from time to time drew out their little host. At length, in answer to a question by the marquis, the earl let fall some pompous observation, from which the marquis, who was getting very tired of the vapid monotony which pervaded the table, ventured to differ pretty decisively. Tuft instantly sided with the earl, and spoke with infinite fluency for some minutes: Gammon saw in a moment that he was an absurd pretender; and watching his opportunity, for the first time that he had interchanged a syllable with him, with one word exposing a palpable historical blunder of poor Tuft's, overthrew him as completely as a bullet from a crossbow dislodges a tomtit from the wall on which he is hopping about, unconscious of his danger. 'Twas a thing that there could be no mistake about whatever.
"That's a settler, Tuft," said the marquis, after a pause: Tuft reddened violently, and gulped down a glass of wine; and presently, with the slightly staggered earl, became a silent listener to the discussion into which the marquis and Gammon had entered. Obtuse as was the earl, Gammon contrived to let him see how effectually he was supporting his Lordship's opinion, which Mr. Tuft had so ridiculously failed in. The marquis got slightly the worst of the encounter with Gammon, whose object he saw, and whose tact he admired; and with much judgment permitted Gammon to appear to the earl as his successful defender, in order that he might himself make a friend of Gammon. Moreover, he was not at all annoyed at witnessing the complete and unexpected discomfiture of poor Tuft, whom, for all his intimacy with that gentleman, the marquis thoroughly despised.
However it might possibly be that his grand visitors enjoyed themselves, it was far otherwise with Mr. Titmouse; who, being compelled to keep sober, was quite miserable. None of those around him were drinking men:—and the consequence was, that he would retire early to his bedroom, and amuse himself with brandy and water, and cigars, leaving his guests to amuse themselves with cards, billiards, or otherwise, as best they might. He did, indeed, "stand like a cipher in the great account;" instead of feeling himself the Earl of Dreddlington's host, he felt himself as one of his Lordship's inferior guests, struggling in vain against the freezing state and etiquette which the earl carried with him wherever he went, like a sort of atmosphere. In this extremity he secretly clung to Gammon, and reposed upon his powerful support and sympathy more implicitly than ever he had done before. As the shooting season had commenced, and game was plentiful at Yatton, the marquis and Tuft found full occupation during the day, as occasionally did Mr. Gammon. Mr. Titmouse once accompanied them; but having contrived very nearly to blow his own hand off, and also to blow out the eyes of the marquis, it was intimated to him that he had better go out alone for the future—as he did accordingly, but soon got tired of such solitary sport. Besides—hares, pheasants, partridges—old and young, cock or hen—'twas all one—none of them seemed to care one straw for him or his gun, let him pop and blaze away as loud and as long, as near or as far off, as he liked. The only thing he hit—and that plump—was one of his unfortunate dogs, which he killed on the spot; and then coming up with it, stamped upon the poor creature's bleeding carcass, saying with a furious oath—"Why didn't you keep out of the way, then, you brute?"
The earl was really anxious to perform his promise of introducing, or procuring introduction for Titmouse, to the leading nobility and gentry of the county; but it proved a more difficult task than his Lordship had anticipated—for Titmouse's early doings at Yatton had not yet been forgotten. Some of the haughty Whig gentry joined with their Tory neighbors in manifesting their open contempt and dislike, for one who could so disgrace the name and station to which he had been elevated in the county; and the earl had to encounter one or two somewhat mortifying rebuffs, in the course of his efforts for the establishment of his young kinsman. There were some, however, whom mere political considerations—others, whom deference for the earl's rank, and unwillingness to hurt his feelings—induced to receive the new Squire of Yatton on a footing of formal intimacy and equality; so that his Lordship's dignified exertions were not entirely useless. The whole party at the Hall attended the earl to church on the Sundays—entirely filling the squire's pew and the adjoining one; their decorous conduct presenting a very edifying spectacle to the humble congregation, and suggesting a striking contrast between the present, and the former, visitors of Mr. Titmouse. Worthy Dr. Tatham was asked several times to dinner, at the earl's instance; by whom he was treated on such occasions with great, though stately, courtesy. The only persons with whom the little doctor felt at his ease, were Mr. Gammon and Miss Macspleuchan, who treated him with the utmost cordiality and respect. What became during the day of the two ladies, I hardly know. There was no instrument at Yatton: bagatelle-board, and novels from a circulating library at York, frequent rides and drives through the grounds and about the country, and occasional visits to and from one or two families with whom Lady Cecilia had a town acquaintance, occupied their day; and in the evening, a rubber at whist, or écarté, with the earl—sometimes, too, with the marquis and Mr. Tuft, both of whom lost no opportunity of paying marked attention to Lady Cecilia, with a view of dissipating as far as possible the inevitable ennui of her situation—would while away the short evenings, very early hours being now kept at the Hall. 'Twas wonderful that two such men as the marquis and Mr. Tuft could stay so long as they did at so very dull a place, and with such dull people. Inwardly they both voted the earl an insufferable old twaddler; his daughter a piece of languid insipidity; and one would have thought it daily more irksome for them to keep up their courtly attentions. They had, however, as may presently be seen, objects of their own in view.
As Gammon, a little to the earl's surprise, continued apparently a permanent guest at the Hall, where he seemed ever engaged in superintending and getting into order the important affairs of Mr. Titmouse, it could hardly be but that he and the earl should be occasionally thrown together; for as the earl did not shoot, and never read books, even had there been any to read, he had little to do, when not engaged upon the expeditions I have alluded to, but saunter about the house and grounds, and enter into frivolous, but solemn and formal conversation with almost any one he met. The assistance which Gammon had rendered the earl on the occasion of their first meeting at dinner, had not been forgotten by his Lordship, but had served to take off the edge from his preconceived contemptuous dislike for that gentleman. Gammon, however, steadily kept in the background, resolved that all advances should come from the earl. When, once or twice, his Lordship inquired, with what Gammon saw to be only an affected carelessness, into the state of Mr. Titmouse's affairs, Mr. Gammon evinced a courteous readiness to give him general information; but with an evident caution and anxiety, not unduly to expose, even to the earl—to Mr. Titmouse's distinguished kinsman, the state of his property. He would, however, disclose sufficient to demonstrate his zeal and ability on behalf of Mr. Titmouse's interests, his consummate qualifications as a man of business; and from time to time perceived that his display was not lost upon the earl. Mr. Gammon's anxiety, in particular, to prevent the borough of Yatton from being a second time wrested out of the hands of its proprietor, and returning, by a corrupt and profligate arrangement with Ministers, a Tory to Parliament, gave the earl peculiar satisfaction. He was led by the mention of this topic into a long conversation with Mr. Gammon upon political matters; and, at its close, was greatly struck with the soundness of his views, the decision and strength of his liberal opinions, and the vigor and acuteness with which he had throughout agreed with everything the earl had said, and fortified every position he had taken; evincing, at the same time, a profound appreciation of his Lordship's luminous exposition of political principles. The earl was forced to own to himself, that he had never before met with a man of Mr. Gammon's strength of intellect, whose views and opinions had so intimately and entirely coincided—were, indeed, identical with his own. 'Twas delightful to witness them upon these occasions—to observe the air of reverence and admiration with which Gammon listened to the lessons of political wisdom which fell, with increasing length and frequency, from the lips of his Lordship.
"Του καί ἀπὀ γλὡσσης μἑλιτος γλυκίων ῤἑεν αὑδή."
Nor was it only when they were alone together, that Gammon would thus sit at the feet of Gamaliel; he was not ashamed to do so openly at the dinner-table; but, ah! how delicately and dexterously did he conceal from the spectators the game he was playing—more difficult to do so, though it daily became—because, the more willing Gammon was to receive, the more eager the earl was to communicate instruction! If, on any of these occasions, oppressed by the multifariousness of his knowledge, and its sudden overpowering confluence, he would pause in the midst of a little series of half-formed sentences, Gammon would be, at hand, to glide in easily, and finish what the earl had begun, out of the earl's ample and rich materials, of which Gammon had caught a glimpse, and only worked out the earl's own, somewhat numerous, half-formed illustrations. The marquis and Mr. Tuft began, however, at length to feel a little impatient at observing the way which Gammon was making with the earl; but of what use was it for them to interfere? Gammon was an exceedingly awkward person to meddle with; for having once got fair play, by gaining the earl's ear, his accuracy, readiness, extent of information upon political topics, and admirable temper, told very powerfully against his two opponents, who at length interfered less and less with him; the marquis only feeling pique, but Tuft also showing it. Had it been otherwise, indeed, with the latter gentleman, it would have been odd; for Gammon seemed to feel a peculiar pleasure in demolishing him. The marquis, however, once resolved to show Gammon how distinctly he perceived his plan of operations, by waiting till he had accompanied the poor earl up to a climax of absurdity; and then, with his eye on Gammon, bursting into laughter. Seldom had Gammon been more ruffled than by that well-timed laugh; for he felt found out!
When the earl and his astute companion were alone, the latter would listen with lively interest, over and over again, never wearied, to his Lordship's magnificent accounts of what he had intended to do, had he only continued in office, in the important department over which he had presided, viz. the Board of Green Cloth; and more than once put his Lordship into a soft flutter of excitement, by hinting at rumors which, he said, were rife—that in the event of a change of ministers, which was looked for, his Lordship was to be President of the Council. "Sir," the earl would say, "I should not shrink from the performance of my duty to my sovereign, to whatever post he might be pleased to call me. The one you mention, sir, has its peculiar difficulties; and if I know anything of myself, sir, it is one for which—I should say—I am peculiarly qualified. Sir, the duty of presiding over the deliberations of powerful minds, requires signal discretion and dignity, because, in short, especially in affairs of state—Do you comprehend me, Mr. Gammon?"
"I understand your Lordship to say, that where the occasion is one of such magnitude, and the disturbing forces are upon so vast a scale, to moderate and guide conflicting interests and opinions"–
"Sir, it is so; tantas componere lites, hic labor, hoc opus," interrupted the earl, with a desperate attempt to fish up a fragment or two of his early scholarship; and his features wore for a moment a solemn commanding expression, which satisfied Gammon of the sway which his Lordship would have had when presiding at the council-board. Gammon would also occasionally introduce the subject of heraldry, asking many anxious questions concerning that exalted science, and also respecting the genealogies of leading members of the peerage, with which he safely presumed that the earl would be, as also he proved, perfectly familiar; and his Lordship would go on for an hour at once upon these interesting and most instructive subjects.
Shortly after luncheon one day, of which only Gammon, the earl, and the two ladies, were in the Hall to partake, Mr. Gammon had occasion to enter the drawing-room, where he found the earl sitting upon the sofa, with his massive gold spectacles on, leaning over the table, engaged in the perusal of a portion of a work then in course of periodical publication, and which had only that morning been delivered at the Hall. The earl asked Gammon if he had seen it, and was answered in the negative.
"Sir," said the earl, rising and removing his glasses, "it is a remarkably interesting publication, showing considerable knowledge of a very difficult and all-important subject, and one, in respect of which the lower orders of the people in this country—nay, I lament to be obliged to add, the great bulk of the middle classes also, are wofully deficient—I mean heraldry, and the history of the origin, progress, and present state of the families of the old nobility and gentry of this country." The work which had been so fortunate as thus to meet with the approbation of the earl, was the last monthly number of a History of the County of York, of which, as yet, only thirty-eight seven-and-sixpenny quarto numbers had made their appearance. It formed an admirable and instructive publication, every number of which had contained a glorification of some different Yorkshire family. The discriminating patronage of Mr. Titmouse for this inestimable performance, had been secured by a most obsequious letter from the learned editor, but more especially by a device of his in the last number, which it would have been strange indeed if it could have failed to catch the eye, and interest the feelings of the new aristocratical owner of Yatton. Opposite to an engraving of the Hall, was placed a magnificent genealogical tree, surmounted by a many-quartered shield of armorial bearings, both of which purported to be an accurate record of the ancestral glories of the house of "Titmouse of Yatton!" A minute investigation might indeed have detected that the recent flight of Titmice which were perched on the lower branches of this imposing pedigree, bore nearly as small a proportion to the long array of chivalrous Drelincourts and Dreddlingtons which constituted the massive trunk, as did the paternal coat27 (to which the profound research and ingenuity of Sir Gorgeous Tintack, the Garter king-at-arms, had succeeded in demonstrating the inalienable right of Titmouse) to the interminable series of quarterings, derived from the same source, which occupied the remainder of the escutcheon. At these mysteriously significant symbols, however, Mr. Titmouse, though quite ready to believe that they indicated some just cause or other of family pride, had looked with the same appreciating intelligence which you may fancy you see a chicken displaying, while hesitatingly clapping its foot upon, and quaintly cocking its eye at, a slip of paper lying in a yard, covered over with algebraic characters and calculations. Far otherwise, however, was it with the earl, in whose eyes the complex and recondite character of the production infinitely enhanced its value, and struck in his bosom several deep chords of genealogical feeling, as he proceeded, in answer to various anxious inquiries of Gammon, to give him a very full and minute account of the unrivalled splendor and antiquity of his Lordship's ancestry. Now be it understood that Gammon—while prosecuting the researches which had preceded the elevation of Mr. Titmouse to that rank and fortune of which the united voice of the fashionable world had now pronounced him so eminently worthy—had made himself pretty well acquainted with the previous history and connections of that ancient and illustrious house, of which the Earl of Dreddlington was the head; and his familiarity with this topic, though it did not surprise the earl, because he conceived it to be every one's duty to acquaint himself with such momentous matters, rapidly raised Gammon in the good opinion of his Lordship; to whom at length, it occurred to view him in quite a new light; viz. as the chosen instrument by whose means (under Providence) the perverse and self-willed Aubrey had been righteously cast down from that high place, which his rebellious opposition to the wishes and political views of his liege lord had rendered him unworthy to occupy; while a more loyal branch had been raised from obscurity to his forfeited rank and estates. In fact, the earl began to look upon Gammon as one, whose just regard for his Lordship's transcendent position in the aristocracy of England had led even to anticipate his Lordship's possible wishes; and proceeded accordingly to rivet this spontaneous allegiance, by discoursing with the most condescending affability on the successive noble and princely alliances which had, during a long series of generations, refined the ancient blood of the Drelincourts into the sort of super-sublimated ichor which at present flowed in his own veins. The progress of the earl's feelings was watched with the greatest interest by Mr. Gammon, who perceived the increasing extent to which respect for him was mingling with his Lordship's sublime self-satisfaction; and, watching the opportunity, struck a spark into the dry tinder of his Lordship's vain imagination, blew it gently—and saw that it caught and spread. Confident in his knowledge of the state of affairs, and that his Lordship had reached the highest point of credulity, Gammon had the almost incredible audacity to intimate, in a hesitating but highly significant manner, his impression, that the recent failure in the male line of the princely house of Hoch-Stiffelhausen Narrenstein Dummleinberg28 had placed his Lordship, in right of the marriage of one of his ancestors, during the Thirty Years' War, with a princess of that august line, in a situation to claim, if such should be his Lordship's pleasure, the dormant honors and sovereign rank attached to the possession of that important principality. The earl appeared for a few moments transfixed with awe! The bare possibility of such an event seemed too much for him to realize; but when further conversation with Gammon had familiarized his Lordship with the notion, his mind's eye involuntarily and naturally glanced to his old rival, the Earl of Fitz-Walter: what would he say to all this? How would his little honors pale beside the splendors of his Serene Highness the Prince of Hoch-Stiffelhausen Narrenstein Dummleinberg! He was not sorry when Mr. Gammon, soon afterwards, left him to follow out unrestrainedly the swelling current of his thoughts, and yield himself up to the transporting ecstasies of anticipated sovereignty. To such a pitch did his excitement carry him, that he might shortly afterwards have been seen walking up and down the Elm Avenue, with the feelings and air of an old King.