Now a knock brings more visitors, the Masters Young, in all the ungainliness of hobbledyhoyhood--that transmigratory period when coat-tails are first developed:--they have come with their sister Flora, a lovely bud, expected "out" next season. Here are the Bells, the Petits, and the little Larks, with their big brother, the "jolly Lark," who made his _debut_ over the top of the drawing-room-door, standing upon the shoulders of your humble servant; who felt the "jolly Lark" anything but light, and no joke--though the juveniles must have thought it so, for we could hear their merry peals of laughter ringing joyously, dispelling the silence that had hitherto prevailed, overturning the sage injunctions of _proper_ mammas, who teach their children to behave "pretty"--thinking _good_ and _quiet_ synonymous. Somehow, the little fellows, unfortunately, take the Lark for Mr. Spohf, who has hitherto done the funny in a refined style, scarcely to be imagined--an elegant, amiable, fun,--a mixture of the buffoon and gentleman, the sublime and the ridiculous, quite marvellous to behold,--making our little friend (who you are aware was moulded in one of Nature's odd freaks) appear, to tender imaginations, almost supernatural. The mistake and misplaced approbation is very galling to Mrs. Brown; so much so that she becomes angry with the tea-urn, and, in turn, burns her fingers--venting her ire in the shape of a box on the ears of Master Bold, who ventured to hint Mr. Spohf's absence a "jolly shame;" and, now vows to tell his mamma--a thing it is very evident Mrs. Brown does not wish, for she has shown a great deal of favour and contrition towards the young gentleman since.