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duced stumplets, or, in common phrase, kittened, the interest of the fact was augmented by the unusual variety exhibited by the kittens. One resembled the mother caudally as much as in colour; one was a perfect black Manx, entirely tailless; and the third resembled an ordinary domestic

cat.

For his mother Guy produced one of the wonders of the French workshop, one of those delicate, toy-like conveniences, in which neither Sheffield, nor Birmingham, nor London have ever rivalled French handicraft. It was a little ivory case, with engraved steel lock and hinges, containing a set of working implements-thimble, scissors, bodkin, needle-case, and stiletto, of gold and steel. It was fortunate for Mrs. Carrington, in this matter, that Lady Ullswater was not at home when Guy called. Not but that the mother would have had the preference, had both claimants on the loving gratitude of the young man been in presence at the same time; but it was a weakness of his character to give of the best he had, and the first claimant of those two would have had the etui. It is to be feared that, if Guy could have persuaded himself that Philippa would have accepted such a souvenir, it would not have seen daylight at Parkesbury.

"And you really like it, Guy? You think you shall continue to do so. As soon as you have quite made up your mind I shall make arrangements for leaving."

"You leave Parkesbury, mamma?"

"Where should my home be but near you, Guy? Under your roof, or my roof, till you bring me a daughter; and then as near as I can find a nook."

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE DOWN WELSH MAIL.

A DRIVE across the country, from Parkesbury to the nearest station on the Great Western Railway, enabled Guy to avoid a return to London, and afforded him some two hours more of his mother's society than he would have otherwise enjoyed. He struck the great artery of traffic a full quarter of an hour before the arrival of the mail train; and, on being conducted by the guard to the carriage devoted to the Plumport passengers, found himself again in the company of his former fellow-traveller, Mr. Thomas Slingsby.

Mr. Slingsby on this occasion had abandoned his suit of varied and splendid tartans for an attire more suitable to hot weather. Trousers of a light material, and a colour in which a reddish brown seemed to qualify a pale drab, were surmounted by a double-breasted

salmon-coloured Marsala waistcoat. The shirt-front was of a Nankeen hue, varied by longitudinal stripes of purple, with pink coral studs; but the collar was white, and the necktie was of a delicate dove-coloured satin. The coat, a species of short tunic, was of a brown mixture, umbe shot with white, and he wore over it a whitish dust coat of

thin alpaca. The wide-brimmed hat was of white felt, and the attire was completed by a pair of shining patent leather boots, of that wonderful structure that admits gores of an elastic material at the side, being at the same time garnished in front with numerous sinecure buttons-boots that proclaim themselves to be shams at the top of their voice. The expression is hardly metaphorical; for boots of that sort always creak.

This splendour of attire was the

more readily commended to the notice of Guy Carrington from the fact that Mr. Slingsby occupied two seats of the carriage by arranging himself in the shape of a capital W., or more correctly speaking, in that of a capital L., as the rise of the foot did not sufficiently balance that of the back to make a

proper-turned W. His knees, that is to say, were supported by the division between the seats, so that he sat in one, with his legs in another. He had a cigar with an amber mouthpiece in his lips.

"Told you we should meet again," quoth Mr. Slingsby. Going down to the Works ?"

66

"Yes," said Guy, "I have just come from Paris."

"Ah," said the other, "if you had called on me first I could

have given you some first-rate

introductions at Paris. There's no making one's way in the world without good introductions."

"I had good introductions." "Hah! had you now-the Baron, I suppose?"

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he would you. Heard of him, I suppose ?"

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Yes, I have seen him."

"Seen him!" said the other, a little starting up; "then you have the opportunity of judging for yourself of the truth of what I say. You found him very civil, no doubt."

"No," said Guy, "I did not think him particularly civil.”

"Is not that the very thing I told you?" replied the other. "No, no, there's no catching him without plenty of corn in the sieve. You didn't mention my name to him, I suppose.'

It certainly had not occurred to Guy to do so.

"Better not," said the other, "much better not. You would have seen him change colour like a lobster when it is boiled. Why?" what do you think I said to him; inquired Mr. Slingsby, who had now recommenced drawing freely on his imagination.

Guy had no idea.

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Sir," said the other, "he insulted me-something about the Athens and Pyrenees Railway with which he had to do. He wanted to chouse me out of some shares. 'Mr. Duke,' said I, 'you are a duke now, but in two minutes you will be a mangled mass of dog's meat if you repeat that last observation;' and he took the hint," added Mr. Slingsby, looking fiercely, yet admiringly, at his own closed and ponderous fist.

"After all, what can you expect of a Frenchman?" he resumed; "look at their education. Poor little beggars, locked up in their licees at five years old, and never out of the sight of schoolmasters and their spies till they are eighteen or nineteen; what can you expect of them? If there is one class of people that I have a greater contempt for than another," said Mr. Slingsby, "it's schoolmasters."

"How would you get on without they grow up, if there are any goodthem?” said Guy.

"Here, in this country, strange to say," said the other, finally abandoning the stump of his cigar, "they are necessary evils-why, I should like to know, why necessary? Look at America-little plague with the schoolmaster there, you may take your oath; lads quite independent at sixteen."

"Then how would you propose to train them till they are sixteen?" "With a good practical training," replied Mr. Slingsby, loftily. "Teach them as boys what they want to know as men. What do lads learn at Oxford or Cambridge, now? Boating and driving, and a little useless Latin and Greek. What use is Latin and Greek? Boating is all very well, but give a boy a dog and a gun, and he'll educate himself, without a tutor in a square cap and silk petticoats."

"Would you give them nothing but a dog and a gun?"

"A sound, practical education; that's what I observed. Let them

learn to read, and to write, and to cypher, at a good day-school. Never keep 'em locked up in the nursery; that's the way to make mollycoddles. If there is one man for whom I have a greater contempt than another, it's a molly-coddle." Guy wished to know how to avoid becoming a molly-coddle.

"Give 'em the run of the house," replied Mr. Slingsby. "Let them see what the servants are after. How could you tell when a potato was properly boiled or a chop done with the gravy in it, if you'd never been in the kitchen, I should like to know? How is a man to order servants about properly, if he doesn't know how to do their work better than they do?"

"Then the children would grow up with the servants ? "

"Quite right too," said the other. "Acquire knowledge of life. As

looking servant-maids, they come to romp with them, quite naturally. Keeps lads out of mischief, out of the public-house, and bad company, and keeps the girls lively and fond of their place. Then a young man grows up without any sneaking shame and bashfulness, isn't afraid to speak to a woman if he sees her. I have known many a good chance lost just by a chap's being bashful."

"You think, then, that confidence is the great thing for success?"

"Strange to say," said the other, "all my mistakes in life have arisen from want of confidence, not want of self-respect-not so bad as that, but a sort of hanging back. live and learn. Some horses can't stand too much corn, but none are the worse for a good feed at proper times."

But

"Well," said Guy, who began. for a few seconds to feel as if his own education had been sadly unpractical, but who now became much amused, "then you would give a day-school elementary education, and a free run of the house; what else?"

"I don't object to a little parlez vous," said the other; "not necessary, but, if a French master comes handy, it does no harm. Strange to say, I often quite forget my French, though; not that it much matters. You see all foreigners, especially Frenchmen, are so confoundedly ignorant and self-opinionated, that the less you have to do with them the better, except in the way of business. Then make 'em come to you."

"You led me to understand that you had a large foreign connection."

"So I have so I have," said Mr. Slingsby. "A good horse is never a bad colour. Business is business, if it comes from the old gentleman himself, and must be

attended to accordingly." And Mr. Slingsby lighted another cigar.

Guy was not a connoisseur in tobacco. But he observed that the odour of the small dark-coloured roll now in process of consumption was, to his unsophisticated taste, more nauseous than that of the larger narcotic preparation inflicted on him on the former journey. He was looking with the effort of one who seeks to calculate how long it will be before the enemy is reduced to its last ash, when Mr. Slingsby, observing the direction of his eyes, emitted a profuse volume of smoke, and said, "Have a weed? Prime cheroots; nothing worth smoking but cheroots. Try one."

Guy, remembering the former profession of faith in something called Havannah, said, "I thought Havannahs were the best."

"Aha, my boy," said the smoker; can put you up to a wrinkle.

You'll often hear of Havannahs that are good-never believe them; Havannah is dead. His foreman has carried on the business, but it's not the same thing as in the old man's time. No, nostick to cheroots; won't you have one?"

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SLINGSBY, SKIPPER, AND CO.

MR. THOMAS SLINGSBY appeared to be engaged in a large and multifarious business in many parts of the world. He was a partner, perhaps a sole partner, in many firms. There were Thomas Slingsby and Co., of Lower Thamesstreet, and Skipper and Slingsby, of Plumport, and Slingsby, Skipper and Co., of Gloucester, and perhaps even more; and Mr. Thomas Slingsby was perpetually oscillating between these various centres of attraction like a great plaid-coated pendulum.

The offices of this widely diffused firm in the town of Plumport consisted in one large room looking out over a convenient yard, accessible by canal, by road, and by railway. A little wooden railing ran across this room inside the door. Within

the railing were two large desksor rather one large double desk, at which people had to stand, or to perch upon high stools to write; and a leather-covered writing table,

with room for a writer to sit on each side with his legs under the middle, between the little pillars full of drawers.

Three or four clerks were generally more or less busy in the room, which contained, moreover, a copying press, a large press or cupboard full of lettered drawers and pigeonholes, and a number of oblong shields of cardboard, hung to hooks on the wall, each of which was the cover of a pile of various sized papers.

It was the habit of Mr. Thomas Slingsby to transact business aloud in the office. Not that he dictated after the manner of Mr. MacAndrew; on the contrary, he either wrote or addressed his own letters, or gave general directions how to write them to a clerk. But he talked freely and openly with all who came to do business. He liked to be open and above board to them.

Mr. Slingsby was in his office, reading the newspaper; three clerks were diligently writing. "Telegraph to Messrs. Slingsby and Co.," said he, "and ask if there is any more intelligence."

A small man stealthily entered the office. He looked round in a deprecating manner. It is unnecessary to describe him, for it was no other than M. Macrocleptos.

"Messire Slingbee," said he, with a low bow to the clerk nearest the door. The clerk pointed with his pen to his master, and continued writing.

"I am Mr. Thomas Slingsby, of the firm of Skipper and Slingsby," said he," and ready for any commands. Here I sit at the

receipt of custom."

"Il Signor parla Italiano?" "What does he say?" said Mr. Slingsby inquiringly to all his clerks.

"He says that he's an Italian," answered one.

"Italian-no-parle Engleesh," said Mr. Slingsby.

"Monsieur parle Francais?" "He says he's a Frenchman," said the clerk.

"How can he be a Frenchman and an Italian too, you booby? said his master.

"Mosso-no parle Françaisparle Engleesh."

Mr. Macrocleptos dived in his pocket-produced a huge pocket book, selected from its depth a folded paper, entered within the rail, and advancing close to Mr. Thomas Slingsby, looked up in his face. He came so close, and the difference of height was so great, that his head bent back till his face was nearly horizontal.

"Well," said Mr. Slingsby, when he had read his note, "then you can speak English ?"

"Ver leetle," said Mr. Macrocleptos.

"What can we do for you here,

"I-want-sipment for rotaie," said the Greek contractor. "What's rotaie?" said the other.

"Vot you call rail."

"Oh-shipping for rails-very well. We're your people for that. Rails from Plumville Works I suppose?"

Mr. Macrocleptos nodded.
"Where to?"

"Pireé-dat is Aten. Grees, you know," explained the Greek, who knew no English.

"Very well nothing easier. Freight's now much fallen. Let you know price per ton ?"

"'Ow much," said the Greek, in a confidential whisper.

Mr. Slingsby kept dodging backwards to avoid the actual contact on which Mr. Macrocleptos seemed bent. As he put one leg back, the other put the corresponding one forward, so that they performed a sort of orbit about the great desk,

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