surmounted by a flying Cupid, and two vases of artificial flowers covered with glass, on one of which was placed an elegant bonnet of the newest and most approved fashion. The floor, of highly polished oak, was strewed about with playbills, slippers, curl-papers, boxes, cards, dice, ribbons, dirty handkerchiefs, etc.; and on one side of the deal table was a plate containing five well-picked mutton-chop bones, and hard by lay Mr. Jorrocks's mustachios and a dirty small tooth-comb. Just as the Yorkshireman had got thus far in his survey, the Countess gave the finishing stroke to the game, and Mr. Jorrocks, jumping up in a rage, gave his leathers such a slap as sent a cloud of pipe-clay flying into his face. "Vous avez the devil's own luck"; exclaimed he, repeating the blow, when, to avoid the cloud, he turned short round, and encountered the Yorkshireman. "How now?" roared he at the top of his voice, "who sent for you? Have you come here to insult me in my own house? I'll lay my soul to an 'oss-shoe, I'll be too many for ye! Where's my sword?" "Now, my good Mr. Jorrocks," replied the Yorkshireman very mildly, "pray, don't put yourself into a passion--consider the lady, and don't let us have any unpleasantness in Madame la Duchesse Benvolio's house," making her a very low bow as he spoke, and laying his hand on his heart. "D--n your displeasancies!" roared Jorrocks, "and that's swearing--a thing I've never done since my brother Joe fobbed me of my bottom piece of muffin. Out with you, I say! Out with ye! you're a nasty dirty blackguard; I'm done with you for ever. I detest the sight of you and hate ye afresh every time I see you!" "Doucement, mon cher Colonel," interposed the Countess, "ve sall play anoder game, and you sall had von better chance," clapping him on the back as she spoke. "I von't!" bellowed Jorrocks. "Turn this chap out first. I'll do it myself. H'Agamemnon! H'Agamemnon! happortez my sword! bring my sword! tout suite, directly!" "Police! Police! Police!" screamed the Countess out of the window; "Police! Police! Police!" bellowed Agamemnon from the next one; "Police! Police! Police!" re-echoed the grisly porter down below; and before they had time to reflect on what had passed, a sergeant's file of the National Guard had entered the hotel, mounted the stairs, and taken possession of the apartment. The sight of the soldiers with their bright bayonets, all fixed and gleaming as they were, cooled Mr. Jorrocks's courage in an instant, and, after standing a few seconds in petrified astonishment, he made a dart at his jack-boots and bolted out of the room. The Countess Benvolio then unlocked her secretaire, in which was a plated liqueur-stand with bottles and glasses, out of which she poured the sergeant three, and the privates two glasses each of pure _eau-de-vie,_ after which Agamemnon showed them the top of the stairs.