WHICH MY COURTEOUS READERS MUST READ, IF THEY WANT TO KNOW WHAT IT’S ABOUT, AS I’VE NO ROOM TO TELL THEM. Fare thee well! and if for ever, Why, for ever---- POPULAR SONG, _by Byron, which, for the reason above mentioned, I haven’t space to finish_. Well, I’ll give you my word, gentle reader--though I dare say you’ll hardly believe it--such was the state of things I got to at last; everything was going crooked in the house--the under nurserymaid quarrelling with the upper nurserymaid, the upper housemaid complaining of the under housemaid, and that brute of a footman ill-treating that monkey of a page--until it was nothing else but jingle-jangle, wringle-wrangle, from the moment we got up in the morning to the very instant we went to bed at night. But I do think I could have borne it all, if it hadn’t been for one dreadful “_contretemps_,” which fairly drove me out of my senses. You see, our footman had, like a stupid, fallen down with the urn, and scalded himself so bad, that I packed him off as an in-door patient to the hospital--as it struck me I couldn’t do less--and the one I had after him I did fancy would have turned out such a jewel; but, alas! alas!--let me restrain my feelings. When he came after the place, I thought I never saw such a fine, honest, open countenance in all my born days; and the man did appear _so_ clean, and was _so_ respectful and meek, and _so_ willing and good-tempered looking, and was _so_ fond of children, that, I declare, if he didn’t ask me if he might shake hands with my little Kitty (who was now nearly seven, and, as he said, as fine and pretty a girl for her age as he’d ever beheld, and so like its mamma.) The sole stipulation he made, was that he might be allowed to go to church at least twice every Sunday--though this only pleased me the more with him. And when he told me he had lived for the last eighteen years with one of the bishops of the land (bless us and save us! I said to myself, there’s a character for you!) and that the only cause for his leaving was, that his poor master, who had always been a kind one to him, had got embarrassed in railway speculations, and been obliged to break up his palace in the country. His lady, however, was staying in town, and would be happy to see me any morning I pleased to name; so, as I had no idea of letting such a treasure of a servant slip through my fingers, I made the appointment for the very next day. The Bishop’s lady--who had the first floor over a very nice pastry-cook’s in May-fair, for a temporary residence in London--received me with great condescension, and told me with almost tears in her poor eyes, that Thompson’s account was very true, and that if anything in their difficulties grieved her more than another, it was parting with such an estimable treasure as that good, honest, worthy man. I don’t think I ever saw such a perfect lady in all my life. Her dress though, it struck me, was a little too showy for a