"Yes," said Mr. St. Quintin, with a sigh, "it is really dreadful to see those upstarts rising around us, and throwing every thing that is respectable and ancient into the back ground. Dangerous times these, Mr. Pelham--dangerous times; nothing but innovation upon the most sacred institutions. I am sure, Mr. Pelham, that your principles must be decidedly against these new-fashioned doctrines, which lead to nothing but anarchy and confusion--absolutely nothing." "I'm delighted to find you so much of my opinion!" said I. "I cannot endure any thing that leads to anarchy and confusion." Here Mr. Combermere glanced at his wife--who rose, called to the children, and, accompanied by them, gracefully withdrew. "Now then," said Mr. Combermere, drawing his chair nearer to me,--"now, Mr. Pelham, we can discuss these matters. Women are no politicians,"--and at this sage aphorism, the Rev. Combermere laughed a low solemn laugh, which could have come from no other lips. After I had joined in this grave merriment for a second or two--I hemmed thrice, and with a countenance suited to the subject and the hosts, plunged at once in medias res. "Mr. St. Quintin," said I, "you are already aware, I think, of my intention of offering myself as a candidate for the borough of Buyemall. I could not think of such a measure, without calling upon you, the very first person, to solicit the honour of your vote." Mr. Combermere looked pleased, and prepared to reply. "You are the very first person I called upon," repeated I. Mr. Combermere smiled. "Well, Mr. Pelham," said he, "our families have long been on the most intimate footing." "Ever since" cried I, "ever since Henry the Seventh's time have the houses of St. Quintin and Glenmorris been allied. Your ancestors, you know, were settled in the county before our's, and my mother assures me that she has read in some old book or another, a long account of your forefather's kind reception of mine at the castle of St. Quintin. I do trust, Sir, that we have done nothing to forfeit a support so long afforded us." Mr. St. Quintin bowed in speechless gratification; at length he found voice. "But your principles, Mr. Pelham?" "Quite your's, my dear Sir: quite against anarchy and confusion." "But the catholic question, Mr. Pelham?" "Oh! the catholic question," repeated I, "is a question of great importance; it won't be carried--no, Mr. St. Quintin, no, it won't be carried; how did you think, my dear Sir, that I could, in so great a question, act against my conscience?"