clerk's hall, and taps his dry cheek with the key, as he addresses these words of welcome to Mademoiselle Hortense. That feline personage, with her lips tightly shut, and her eyes looking out at him sideways, softly closes the door before replying.

"I have had a great deal of trouble to find you, sir." "Have you?"

"I have been here very often, sir. said to me, he is not at home, he is he is that, he is not for you.'

"Quite right, and quite true." "Not true. Lies!"

It has always been engage, he is this,

"Now, Mistress," says the lawyer, tapping the key hastily upon the chimney-piece, “if you have anything to say, say it, say it."

"Sir, you have not use me well. You have been mean and shabby."

"Mean and shabby, eh?" returns the lawyer, rubbing his nose with the key.

"Yes. What is it that I tell you? You know you have. You have attraped me--catched me—to give you information; you have asked me to show you the dress of mine my lady must have worn that night; you have prayed me to come in it here to meet that boy-Say! Is it not?" “You are a vixen, a vixen!-Well wench, well. I paid you."

"You paid me! Two sovereign! I have not change. them, I re-fuse them, I de-spise them, I throw them from me! Now! You have paid me? Eh, my God, O yes!"

Mr. Tulkinghorn rubs his head with the key, while she entertains herself with a sarcastic laugh.

"You must be rich, my fair friend, to throw money about in that way!"

"I am rich; I am very rich in hate. of all my heart. You know that."

"Know it? How should I know it?"

I hate my lady,

"Because you have known it perfectly, before you prayed me to give you that information. Because you have known perfectly that I was en-r-r-r-raged!"

"Having said this, have you anything else to say, Mademoiselle?"

Find me a

"I am not yet placed. Place me well. good condition! If you cannot, or do not choose to do that, employ me to pursue her, to chase her, to disgrace and to dishonor her. I will help you well, and with a good will. It is what you do. Do I not know that?"

"You appear to know a good deal.”

"Do I not? Is it that I am so weak as to believe, like a child, that I come here in that dress to receive that boy, only to decide a little bet, a wager? Eh, my God, O yes!" "Now, let us see how this matter stands."

"Ah! Let us see."

"You come here to make a remarkably modest demand, which you have just stated, and it not being conceded, you will come again."

"And again, and yet again. And yet again. And many times again. In effect, forever!"

"And not only here, but you will go to Mr. Snagsby's, too, perhaps? That visit not succeeding either, you will go again, perhaps?''

66

'And again. And yet again. And yet again. And many times again. In effect, forever."

"Very well. Now, Mademoiselle Hortense, let me recommend you to take the candle and pick up that money of yours. I think you will find it behind the clerk's partition in the corner yonder.

She merely throws a laugh over her shoulder and stands her ground with folded arms.

"You will not, eh!"

"No, I will not!"

It is a large

In this city

"So much the poorer you; so much the richer I! Look, Mistress, this is the key of my wine cellar. key, but the keys of prisons are larger. there are houses of correction (where the treadmills are for women), the gates of which are very strong and heavy, and no doubt the keys, too. I am afraid a lady of your spirit and activity would find it an inconvenience to have one of those keys turned upon her for any length of time. What do you think?”

"I think that you are a miserable wretch."

"Probably, but I don't ask what you think of myself; I ask what you think of the prison."

"Nothing.

What does it matter to me?”

"Why, it matters this much, Mistress, the law is so despotic here, that it interferes to prevent any of our good English citizens from being troubled, even by a lady's visits, against his desire. And, on his complaining that he is so troubled, it takes hold of the troublesome lady, and shuts her up in prison under hard discipline. Turns the key upon her, Mistress." Illustrating with the cellar key.

"Truly! that is droll! But-my faith!-still what does it matter to me?"

"My fair friend, make another visit here, or at Mr. Snagsby's, and you shall learn.”

"In that case you will send me to the prison, perhaps?'' "Perhaps. In a word, Mistress, I am sorry to be impolite, but if you ever present yourself uninvited here -or there again, I will give you over to the police. Their gallantry is great, but they carry troublesome people through the streets in an ignominious manner; strapped down on a board, my good wench."

"I will prove you, I will try if you dare to do it!"

"And if," pursues the lawyer, without minding her, "I place you in that good condition of being locked up in jail, it will be some time before you find yourself at liberty again."

"I will prove you.'

"And now," proceeds the lawyer, still without minding her, "you had better go. Think twice before you come

here again."

"Think you twice two hundred times!"

"You were dismissed by your lady, you know," Mr. Tulkinghorn observes, following her out upon the staircase, "as the most implacable and unmanageable of women. Now turn over a new leaf, and take warning by what I say to you. For what I say I mean; and what I threaten, I will do, Mistress."

"Oh! I will prove you-you miserable wretch-I will prove you."

When she is gone, he goes down to the cellar, and returning with his cobweb-covered bottle, devotes himself to a leisurely enjoyment of its contents.

Charles Dickens.

PASSAGE OF THE REFORM BILL.

Such a scene as the division of last Tuesday I never saw, and never expect to see again. If I should live fifty years, the impression of it will be as fresh and sharp in my mind as if it had just taken place. It was like seeing Cæsar stabbed in the Senate-house, or seeing Oliver taking the mace from the table; a sight to be seen only once, and never to be forgotten.

The crowd overflowed the House in every part. When the strangers were cleared out and the doors locked, we had six hundred and eighty members present-more by fifty-five than ever were in a division before.

The ayes and noes were like two volleys of cannon from opposite sides of a field of battle.

When the opposition went out into the lobby, an operation which took up twenty minutes or more, we spread ourselves over the benches on both sides of the House; for there were many of us who had not been able to find a seat during the evening. When the doors were shut we began to speculate on our numbers. Everybody was desponding. "We have lost it. We are only two hundred and eighty at most. I do not think we are two hundred and fifty. They are three hundred. Alderman Thompson has counted them. He says they are two hundred and ninety-nine." This was the talk on our benches. I wonder that men who have been long in Parliament do not acquire a better coup d'œil for numbers. The House, when only the ayes were in it, looked to me a very fair House, much fuller than it generally is even on debates of considerable interest.

I had no hope, however, of three hundred. As the tellers passed along our lowest row on the left-hand side, the interest was insupportable-two hundred and ninetyone-two hundred and ninety-two-we were all standing up and stretching forward, telling with the tellers.

At three hundred there was a short cry of joy at three hundred and two another-suppressed, however, in a moment; for we did not yet know what the hostile force might be.

We knew, however, that we could not be severely beaten. The doors were thrown open, and in they came.

Each of them, as he entered, brought some different report of their numbers. It must have been impossible, as you may conceive, in the lobby, crowded as they were, to form any exact estimate.

First we heard that they were three hundred and three; then that number rose to three hundred and ten; then went down to three hundred and seven. Alexander Barry told me that he had counted, and that they were three hundred and four. We were all breathless with anxiety, when Charles Wood, who stood near the door, jumped up on a bench and cried out, "They are only three hundred and one." We set up a shout that you might have heard to Charing Cross, waving our hats, stamping against the floor, and clapping our hands. The tellers

Then

scarcely got through the crowd; for the House was thronged up to the table, and all the floor was fluctuating with heads like the pit of a theater. But you might have heard a pin drop as Duncannon read the numbers. again the shouts broke out, and many of us shed tears. I could scarcely refrain-and the jaw of Peel fell; and the face of Twiss was as the face of a damned soul; and Herries looked like Judas taking his necktie off for the last operation.

We shook hands and clapped each other on the back, and went out laughing, crying, and huzzaing into the lobby. And no sooner were the outer doors opened than another shout answered that within the House. All the passages and the stairs into the waiting-rooms were thronged by people who had waited till four in the morning to know the issue.

We passed through a narrow lane between two thick masses of them; and all the way down they were shouting and waving their hats, till we got into the open air. I called a cabriolet, and the first thing the driver asked was, "Is the bill carried?”

"Yes, by one."

"Thank God for it, sir!"

And away I rode to Gray's Inn-and so ended a scene which will probably never be equaled till the reformed Parliament wants reforming; and that, I hope, will not be till the days of our grandchildren. Lord Macaulay.