STORMY! GLASS RISING. Barometers are of such use to maritime and other folk, in indicating the changes of atmospherical phenomena, and the approach of disturbing elements, that it is a wonder in these go-a-head days, no instrument has been constructed by which we could ascertain the fluctuations of the human temperament. One might have a sort of graduated thermometer, _par exemple_, to indicate the rise and force of the passions, especially that of anger, and call it a "cholerometer." The idea may be recommended to the attention of scientific philanthropists, as it would be of incalculable use in preventing unruly encounters, if one but just knew the exact choleric and argumentative calibre and equipoise of those with whom one has frequently to come in contact. If such an instrument did exist, the barometrical measurement applied to the old dowager, Mrs Hartshorne's temper on the morning that Markworth came to have his interview, and state his case about Susan, would certainly have indicated some such stormy height, or fall, as 29 degrees 31, or thereabouts! Mr Trump had gone down expressly the previous day, as he said he would; and a nice storm he created. "Not a tempest in a teapot," but a regular carousal of the elements--a rushing together of hot and cold streams, not of air, as is so eloquently described in the pages of Professor Maury, but of temper and passion. "Stuff and nonsense," said the dowager, virulently, "I won't believe it! Do you mean to say that that man, who was stopping here in the house with us as Thomas' friend, and accepted our hospitality, took advantage of our kindness, and ran off with that idiot girl; why, it's absurd! Stuff and nonsense, I tell you. I won't believe it!" "But, my dear madam," interposed Mr Trump, "I assure you it is a fact. We've got the proof, and I have just told you all the circumstances. It's as clear as a counsellor's wig, madam! He took the girl away from here, married her, and there she is; nothing could be plainer." "Gammon!" said the dowager. "It is all rubbish!" "My dear madam," said the lawyer, "just be sensible for a moment." "I've got more sense in my little finger, sir, than you have in your whole body," snapped out the old lady. "Granted, my dear madam; but, pardon me, if that is not exactly relevant to the case. The proof is clear enough that Markworth took her away; and I sent my clerk down to the church mentioned in the certificate, and there is no doubt that he married Susan there, and that she's now at Havre. Besides, his motive is plain enough; he wanted to get her fortune." "The artful, designing scoundrel!" broke out the dowager. "The question is, my dear madam, what is to be done now? That fellow said he was coming down here to-morrow morning. Would it be better to wait until you see him, and fathom his plans, or else send over to Havre at once, and take steps to recover the girl?"