But who was this genlmn with a fine name--Mr. Frederic Altamont? or what was he? The most mysterus genlmn that ever I knew. Once I said to him on a wery rainy day, “Sir, shall I bring the gig down to your office?” and he gave me one of his black looks and one of his loudest hoaths, and told me to mind my own bizziness, and attend to my orders. Another day,--it was on the day when Miss Mary slapped Miss Betsy's face,--Miss M., who adoared him, as I have said already, kep on asking him what was his buth, parentidg, and ediccation. “Dear Frederic,” says she, “why this mistry about yourself and your hactions? why hide from your little Mary”--they were as tender as this, I can tell you--“your buth and your professin?” I spose Mr. Frederic looked black, for I was ONLY listening, and he said, in a voice hagitated by emotion, “Mary,” said he, “if you love me, ask me this no more: let it be sfishnt for you to know that I am a honest man, and that a secret, what it would be misery for you to larn, must hang over all my actions--that is from ten o'clock till six.” They went on chaffin and talking in this melumcolly and mysterus way, and I didn't lose a word of what they said; for them houses in Pentonwille have only walls made of pasteboard, and you hear rayther better outside the room than in. But, though he kep up his secret, he swore to her his affektion this day pint blank. Nothing should prevent him, he said, from leading her to the halter, from makin her his adoarable wife. After this was a slight silence. “Dearest Frederic,” mummered out miss, speakin as if she was chokin, “I am yours--yours for ever.” And then silence agen, and one or two smax, as if there was kissin going on. Here I thought it best to give a rattle at the door-lock; for, as I live, there was old Mrs. Shum a-walkin down the stairs! It appears that one of the younger gals, a-looking out of the bed-rum window, had seen my master come in, and coming down to tea half an hour afterwards, said so in a cussary way. Old Mrs. Shum, who was a dragon of vertyou, cam bustling down the stairs, panting and frowning, as fat and as fierce as a old sow at feedin time. “Where's the lodger, fellow?” says she to me. I spoke loud enough to be heard down the street--“If you mean, ma'am, my master, Mr. Frederic Altamont, esquire, he's just stept in, and is puttin on clean shoes in his bedroom.” She said nothink in answer, but flumps past me, and opening the parlor-door, sees master looking very queer, and Miss Mary a-drooping down her head like a pale lily. “Did you come into my famly,” says she, “to corrupt my daughters, and to destroy the hinnocence of that infamous gal? Did you come here, sir, as a seducer, or only as a lodger? Speak, sir, speak!”--and she folded her arms quite fierce, and looked like Mrs. Siddums in the Tragic Mews.