belief, considering his “calling,” it is a positive fact that Matthew Whitelock reverenced literary acquirements; and when a clever book did not “sell,” Matthew would take the part of the author against “the trade”--a proceeding which caused him to be considered “a fool” by many who are wise in their own conceits. These and such like thoughts were passing through Matthew’s mind, in a half-dreamy way; now lingering, now rushing onward, and then off, while Peter lay at his feet; and he began to long, as often he did, for Richard’s return; for he enjoyed a chat with his messenger, as he used to enjoy a newspaper. Without his perceiving it, Matty entered, and shutting the door, as she always did when she had any thing particular to say, placed her back against it, wreathed her bony arms together, and passing one foot over the instep of the other, stood on one leg, “shouldering” the door-case. “It’s my opinion, sir, that you make too much fuss entirely with that boy, and that he’s forgetting his place.” “Is it--how?” “Well, thoughts is thoughts, and it’s hard to put them into words; but here they are! He’d rayther any time stay fiddling after one bit of dust or another, or stitching ould tataration books, that’s going to the bad since the year one, or mending your pen--as if you had not eyesight (the Lord preserve it) to do it yourself--than sit and rest his young bones at his supper; and as to rubbing over the knives, he does them in no time, without a bit of a stop between; so that I never have a word out of him. And the paper! he reads it shameful! reading polyticks as if they war dirt; and so ignorant, that when he’s done, he knows no more of the state of Europe than when he began. His mother says he lives without sleep, or as good as; there’s a heart-break for a tender mother! I hate unnatural ways. The truth is, he’s above his business.” “I quite agree with you.” “Then,” said the contradictory Matty, “it’s a sin and a shame for you to say so, sir. You have nothing to complain of: he’s willing enough to do every hand’s turn for you. I’m nothing in the house--just no-thing! He’s as civil and smooth as creme--with his good morning, and good evening, and fine day. Mrs. Cook! but that’s professional--there’s no love with it. He’s all for learning and books. If he goes on this way, you’ll have to take him into partnership.” “Very likely!” Matty immediately stood erect. “Then, sir, you must look out for another housekeeper, that’s all: I’m not going to have two masters, and one of them no better than a dog-boy! Oh! that I should come to that! He’s bewitched you, so he has--put his _comether_ over you. I shouldn’t wonder if you made him sit down at your table, and printed his poems.” “His what?”