especially, went on as if no end were to be expected to them, and no enemy in front. When our travellers arrived at Brussels, in which their regiment was quartered-a great piece of good fortune, as all said—they found themselves in one of the gayest and most brilliant little capitals in Europe, and where all the Vanity Fair booths were laid out with the most tempting liveliness and splendor. Gambling was here in profusion, and dancing in plenty; feasting was there to fill with delight that great gourmand of a Jos; there was a theatre where a miraculous Catalani was delighting all hearers; beautiful rides, all enlivened with martial splendor; a rare old city, with strange costumes and 'wonderful architecture, to delight the eyes of little Amelia, who had never before seen a foreign country, and fill her with charming surprises; so that now and for a few weeks' space, in a fine, handsome lodging, whereof the expenses were borne by Jos and Osborne, who was flush of money and full of kind attentions to his wife-for about a fortnight, I say, during which her honeymoon ended, Mrs. Amelia was as pleased and happy as any little bride out of England.

Every day during this happy time there was novelty and amusement for all parties. There was a church to see, or a picture-gallery-there was a ride, or an opera. The bands of the regiments were making music at all hours. The greatest folks of England walked in the park-there was a perpetual military festival. George, taking out his wife to a new jaunt or junket every night, was quite pleased with himself, as usual, and swore he was becoming quite a domestic character. And a jaunt or a junket with him! Was it not enough to set this little heart beating with joy? Her letters home to her mother were filled with delight and gratitude at this season. Her husband bade her buy laces, millinery, jewels, and gimcracks of all sorts. Oh, he was the kindest, best, and most generous of men!

The sight of the very great company of lords and ladies and fashionable persons who thronged the town, and appeared in every public place, filled George's truly British soul with intense delight. They flung off that happy frigidity and insolence of demeanor which occasionally characterizes the great at home, and appearing in numberless public places, condescended to mingle with the rest of the company whom they met there. One night at a party given by the general of the division to which George's regiment belonged, he had the honor of dancing with Lady Blanche Thistlewood, Lord Bareacres' daughter; he bustled for ices and refreshments for the two noble ladies; he pushed and squeezed for Lady Bareacres' carriage; he bragged about the countess when he got home in a way which his own father could not have surpassed. He called upon the ladies the next day; he rode by their side in the park; he asked their party to a great dinner at a restaurateur's, and was quite wild with exultation when they agreed to come. Old Bareacres, who had not much pride and a large appetite, would go for a dinner anywhere.

"I hope there will be no women besides our own party," Lady Bareacres said, after reflecting upon the invitation which had been made, and accepted with too much precipitancy.

Gracious heaven, mamma, you don't suppose the man would bring his wife?" shrieked Lady Blanche, who had been languishing in George's arms in the newly-imported waltz for hours the night before. "The men are bearable, but their women-' "Wife, just married, dev'lish pretty woman, I hear," the old earl said. "Well, my dear Blanche," said the mother, "I suppose as papa wants to go, we must go; but we needn't know them in England, you know." And so, determined to cut their new acquaintance in Bond Street, these great folks went to eat his dinner at Brussels, and condescending to make him pay for their pleasure, showed their dignity by making his wife uncomfortable, and carefully excluding her from the conversation. This is a species of dignity in which the high-bred British female reigns supreme. To watch the behavior of a fine lady to other and humbler women is a very good sport for a philosophical frequenter of Vanity Fair.

This festival, on which honest George spent a great deal of money, was the very dismalest of all the entertainments which Amelia had in her honeymoon. She wrote the most piteous accounts of the feast home to her mamma; how the Countess of Bareacres would not answer when spoken to; how Lady Blanche stared at her with her eyeglass; and what a rage Captain Dobbin was in at their behavior; and how my lord, as they came away from the feast, asked to see the bill, and pronounced it a d— bad dinner, and d- dear. But though Amelia told all these stories, and wrote home regarding her guests' rudeness and her own discomfiture, old Mrs. Sedley was mightily pleased, nevertheless, and talked about Emmy's friend, the Countess of Bareacres, with such assiduity that the news how his son was entertaining peers and peeresses actually came to Osborne's ears in the city.

Those who know the present Lieutenant-General Sir George Tufto, K.C.B., and

have seen him, as they may on most days in the season, padded and in stays, strutting down Pall Mall with a rickety swagger on his high-heeled lacquered boots, leering under the bonnets of passers-by, or riding a showy chestnut, and ogling broughams in the parks-those who know the present Sir George Tufto would hardly recognize the daring peninsular and Waterloo officer. He has thick curling brown hair and black eyebrows now, and his whiskers are of the deepest purple. He was light-haired and bald in 1815, and stouter in the person and in the limbs, which especially have shrunk very much of late. When he was about seventy years of age (he is now nearly eighty) his hair, which was very scarce and quite white, suddenly grew thick and brown and curly, and his whiskers and eyebrows took their present color. Ill-natured people say that his chest is all wool, and that his hair, because it never grows, is a wig. Tom Tufto, with whose father he quarrelled ever so many years ago, declares that Mademoiselle de Jaisey, of the French theatre, pulled his grandpapa's hair off in the green-room; but Tom is notoriously spiteful and jealous; and the general's wig has nothing to do with our story. One day, as some of our friends of the -th were sauntering in the flower-market of Brussels, having

been to see the Hôtel de Ville, which Mrs. Major O'Dowd declared was not near so large or handsome as her fawther's mansion of Glenmalony, an officer of rank, with an orderly behind him, rode up to the market, and descending from his horse, came among the flowers and selected the very finest bouquet which money could buy. The beautiful bundle being tied up in a paper, the officer remounted, giving the nosegay into the charge of his military groom, who carried it with a grin, following his chief, who rode away in great state and self-satisfaction. "You should see the flowers at Glenmalony,"

Mrs. O'Dowd

was remarking. "Me fawther has three Scotch garners with nine helpers. We have an acre of hot-houses, and pines as common as pays in the sayson. Our greeps weighs six pounds every bunch of 'em, and, upon me honor and conscience, I think our magnolias is as big as tay-kettles."

Dobbin, who never used to "draw out" Mrs. O'Dowd as that wicked Osborne delighted in doing (much to Amelia's terror, who implored him to spare her), fell back in the crowd, crowing and sputtering until he reached a safe distance, when he exploded among the astonished market-people with shricks of yelling laughter. "Hwhat's that gawky giggling about?" said Mrs. O'Dowd "Is it his

nose

bleedn? He always used to say 'twas his nose bleedn, till he must have pomped all the blood out of 'um. An't the magnolias at Glenmalony as big as tay-kettles, O'Dowd?''

"'Deed then they are, and bigger, Peggy," the major said. When the conversation was interrupted in the manner stated by the arrival of the officer who purchased the the bouquet.

"Devilish fine horse-who is it?" George asked.

"You should see me brother Molloy Malony's horse, Molasses, that won the cop at the Curragh," the major's wife was exclaiming, and was continuing the family history when her husband interrupted her by saying:

"It's General Tufto, who commands the

cavalry division," adding, quietly,

"he and I were both shot in the same leg at Talavera.' "Where you got your step," said George with a laugh. · General Tufto! Then, my dear, the Crawleys are come."

Amelia's heart fell-she knew not why. The sun did not seem to shine so bright. The tall old roofs and gables looked less picturesque all of a sudden, though it was a brilliant sunset, and one of the brightest and most beautiful days at the end of May.

1

M

CHAPTER XXIX.

BRUSSELS.

R. JOS had hired a pair of horses for his open carriage, with which cattle, and the smart London vehicle, he made a very tolerable figure in the drives about Brussels. George purchased a horse for his private riding, and he and Captain Dobbin would often accompany the carriage in which Jos and his sister took daily excursions of pleasure. They went out that day in the park for their accustomed diversion, and there, sure enough, George's remark with regard to the arrival of Rawdon Crawley and his wife proved to be correct. In the midst of a little troop of horsemen, consisting of some of the very greatest persons in Brussels, Rebecca was seen in the prettiest and tightest of riding habits, mounted on a beautiful little Arab, which she rode to perfection (having acquired the art at Queen's Crawley, where the Baronet, Mr. Pitt, and Rawdon himself had given her many lessons), and by the side of the gallant General Tufto.

"Sure it's the juke himself," cried Mrs. Major O'Dowd to Jos, who began to blush violently; "and that's Lord Uxbridge on the bay. How elegant he looks! Me brother, Molloy Malony, is as like him as two peas.'

Rebecca did not make for the carriage; but as soon as she perceived her old acquaintance Amelia seated in it, acknowledged her presence by a gracious word and smile, and by kissing and shaking her fingers playfully in the direction of the vehicle. Then she resumed her conversation with General Tufto, who asked "who the fat officer was in the gold-laced cap?" on which Becky replied that he was an officer in the East Indian service." But Rawdon Crawley rode out of the ranks of his company, and came up and shook hands heartily with Amelia, and said to Jos, "Well, old boy, how are you?" and stared in Mrs. O'Dowd's face and at the black cock's feathers until she began to think she had made a conquest of him.

George, who had been delayed behind, rode up almost immediately with Dobbin, and they touched their caps to the august personages, among whom Osborne at once perceived Mrs. Crawley. He was delighted to see Rawdon leaning over his carriage familiarly and talking to Amelia, and met the aide-de-camp's cordial greeting with more than corresponding warmth. The nods between Rawdon and Dobbin were of the very faintest specimens of politeness.

Crawley told George where they were stopping, with General Tufto at the Hôtel du Parc, and George made his friend promise to come speedily to Osborne's own residence. "Sorry I hadn't seen you three days ago," George said. "Had a dinner at the restaurateur's-rather a nice thing. Lord Bareacres and the countess and Lady Blanche

were good enough to dine with us-wish we'd had you." Having thus let his friend know his claims to be a man of fashion, Osborne parted from Rawdon, who followed the august squadron down an alley into which they entered, while George and Dobbin resumed their places, one on each side of Amelia's carriage.

"How well the juke looked," Mrs. O'Dowd remarked! "The Wellesleys and Malonys are related; but, of course, poor I would never dream of introjucing myself unless his grace thought proper to remember our family tie."

"He's a great soldier," Jos said, much more at ease now the great man was gone. "Was there ever a battle won like Salamanca? Hey, Dobbin? But where was it he learned his art? In India, my boy! The jungle's the school for a general, mark me that. I knew him myself, too, Mrs. O'Dowd; we both of us danced the same evening with Miss Cutler, daughter of Cutler of the artillery, and a devilish fine girl, at Dumdum."

The apparition of the great personages held them all in talk during the drive and at dinner, and until the hour came when they were all to go to the opera.

It was almost like old England. The house was filled with familiar British faces and those toilets for which the British female has long been celebrated. Mrs. O'Dowd's was not the least splendid among these, and she had a curl on her forehead, and a set of Irish diamonds and Cairngorms, which outshone all the decorations in the house, in her notion. Her presence used to excruciate Osborne; but go she would upon all parties of pleasure on which she heard her young friends were bent. It never entered into her thought but that they must be charmed with her company.

"She's been useful to you, my dear," George said to his wife, whom he could leave alone with less scruple when she had this society. "But what a comfort it is that Rebecca's come! you will have her for a friend, and we may get rid now of this damn'd Irishwoman." To this Amelia did not answer yes or no; and how do we know what her thoughts were?

The coup-d'ail of the Brussels opera house did not strike Mrs. O'Dowd as being so fine as the theatre in Fishamble

Street, Dublin, nor was French music at all equal, in her opinion, to the melodies of her native country. She favored her friends with these and other opinions in a very loud tone of voice, and tossed about a great clattering fan she sported with the most splendid complacency.

"Who is that wonderful woman with Amelia, Rawdon, love?" said a lady in an opposite box (who, almost always civil to her husband in private, was more fond than ever of him in company).

"Don't you see that creature with a yellow thing in her turban, and a red satin gown, and a great watch ?"

"Near the pretty little woman in white?" asked a middle-aged gentleman seated by the querist's side, with orders in his button, and several under-waistcoats, and a great, choky, white stock.

"That pretty woman in white

is Amelia, general; you are re

marking all the pretty women, you naughty man."

"Only one, begad, in the world!" said the general, delighted, and the lady gave him a tap with a large bouquet which she had.

66

"Bedad it's him," said Mrs. O'Dowd; and that's the very bokay he bought in the Marshy aux Flures!" and when Rebecca, having caught her friend's eye, performed the little hand-kissing operation once more, Mrs. Major O'Dowd, taking the compliment to herself, returned the salute with a gracious smile, which sent that unfortunate Dobbin shrieking out of the box again.

At the end of the act George was out of the box in a moment, and he was even going to pay his respects to Rebecca in her loge. He met Crawley in the lobby, however, where they exchanged a few sentences upon the occurrences of the last fortnight. "You found my check all right at the agent's?" George said, with a knowing air. "All right, my boy," Rawdon answered. "Happy to give you your revenge. Governor come round?"

"Not yet," said George, "but he will; and you know I've some private fortune through my mother. Has aunty relented?"

Sent me twenty pound, damned old screw. When shall we have a meet? The general dines out on Tuesday. Can't you come Tuesday? I say, make Sedley cut off his mustache. What the devil does a civilian mean with a mustache and those infernal frogs to his coat! By-by. Try and come on Tuesday." And Rawdon was going off with two brilliant young gentlemen of fashion, who were, like himself, on the staff of a general officer.

46

George was only half pleased to be asked to dinner on that particular day when the general was not to dine. 'I will go in and pay my respects to your wife," said he; at which Rawdon said, "Hm, as you please," looking very glum, and at which the two young officers exchanged knowing glances. George parted from them and strutted down the lobby to the general's box, the number of which he had carefully counted.

"Entrez," said a clear little voice, and our friend found himself in Rebecca's presence, who jumped up, clapped her hands together, and held out both of them to George, so charmed was she to see him. The general, with the orders in his button, stared at the new-comer with a sulky scowl, as much as to say, "Who the devil are you?''

"My dear Captain George!" cried little Rebecca in an ecstasy. "How good of you to come! The general and I were moping together tête-à-tête. General, this is my Captain George of whom you heard me talk.

"Indeed," said the general, with a very small bow; "of what regiment is Captain George?"

George mentioned the th; how he wished he could have said it was a crack cavalry corps.

66

Come home lately from the West Indies, I believe. Not seen much service in the late war. Quartered here, Captain George?"-the general went on with killing haughti"Not Captain George, you stupid man; Captain Osborne," Rebecca said. The general all the while was looking savagely from one to the other.

ness.

"Captain Osborne, indeed! Any relation to the L- Osbornes ?"

46

We bear the same arms," George said, as indeed was the fact; Mr. Osborne having consulted with a herald in Long Acre, and picked the L- arms out of the peerage, when he set up his carriage fifteen years before. The general made no reply to this announcement, but took up his opera-glass-the double-barrelled lorgnon was not invented in those days-and pretended to examine the house; but Rebecca saw that his disengaged eye was working round in her direction, and shooting out bloodshot glances at her and George.

She redoubled in cordiality. "How is dearest Amelia? But I needn't ask; how pretty she looks! And who is that nice good-natured looking creature with her-a flame of yours? Oh, you wicked men ! And there is Mr. Sedley, eating ice, I declare ; how he seems to enjoy it! General, why have we not had any ices ?''

"Shall I go and fetch you some?" said the general, bursting with wrath. "Let me go, I entreat you," George said.

"No, I will go to Amelia's box. Dear, sweet girl! Give me your arm, Captain George. And so saying, and with a nod to the general, she tripped into the lobby. She gave George the queerest, knowingest look when they were together-a look which might have been interpreted, Don't you see the state of affairs, and what a fool I'm making of him?" But he did not perceive it. He was thinking of his own plans, and lost in pompous admiration of his own irresistible powers of pleasing.

The curses to which the general gave a low utterance, as soon as Rebecca and her conqueror had quitted him, were so deep that I am sure no compositor would venture to print them were they written down. They came from the general's heart, and a wonderful thing it is to think that the human heart is capable of generating such produce, and can throw out, as occasion demands, such a supply of lust and fury, rage and hatred.

Amelia's gentle eyes, too, had been fixed anxiously on the pair whose conduct had so chafed the jealous general; but when Rebecca entered her box she flew to her friend with an affectionate rapture which showed itself, in spite of the publicity of the place ; for she embraced her dearest friend in the presence of the whole house, at least in full view of the general's glass, now brought to bear upon the Osborne party. Mrs. Raw