A social party of relatives, friends, and neighbours, were seated round the dinner-table at Lodore House. They have, it would seem, just dispatched the first two courses, and all important business thus concluded, they appear to be, at the present moment, trifling most agreeably with a summer dessert, consisting of clustering grapes, golden pines, velvet-cheeked peaches, &c. &c. These, crowning costly dishes, and decked with fresh leaves and gay flowers, resembled, as the shining surface of the board reflected each inverted heap, so many isles of plenty, scattered on a glassy sea. While, to keep up our simile, we may add, that cruising fleets of wine decanters sailed smoothly round and round, dispensing, wherever they passed, the sparkling juice of the foreign grape, with wit and gaiety as sparkling. The busy hum of voices still went on, some in the low murmur of flirtation, some in the loud debate of politics; while others, in medium tones, discussed the merits of the last new novel, opera, or play. Mr. Jackson, who sat next to Mrs. Montgomery, addressing Henry, said--"Pray, Mr. St. Aubin, if the question is not an impertinent one, who might the man be, whom I saw part from you last evening, at the end of the wood leading into the shrubbery walks between this and my little place? I was much struck with his figure, and the insolence, I had almost said, of his step and carriage." Henry, at first, affected not to hear; but, on the question being repeated, answered, with over-acted indifference--"The fellow has been, I believe, a sailor. Begging, I fancy, is his present calling." "He doubted then," rejoined Mr. Jackson, "either my ability, or my will to be charitable; for he did not beg of me. Indeed, he seemed disposed to get out of my way as fast as he could." "Possibly," said Henry, "he feared that, as a magistrate, you might put into force the laws against vagrants." "There was something very remarkable in the countenance of the man," persisted Mr. Jackson: "handsome, certainly; but the expression sinister in the extreme!" "Expression," repeated Henry with a sneer, "the man is deranged! You must have heard of a mad beggar about Whitehaven, who calls himself Sir Sydney Smyth: this is the fellow. I have been foolish enough to give him money, more than once, I believe; and, consequently, he now does me the favour to consider me in the light of an old acquaintance." "I thought," said Mr. Jackson, "the man spoke in a strangely loud and dictatorial tone.--And so, he is a mad beggar! Well, I have dignified him amazingly: for he presented to my fancy, why, I scarcely know, the poetical idea of Milton's devil, walking in paradise. The spot where I first observed him certainly is equal to any garden of Eden I have ever been able to imagine!" "The parson is always in the heroics!" whispered Lady Theodosia to her next neighbour, Colonel B--: "the last time I was down here, he could talk of nothing but angels, I remember."