Here the gentleman rose in a glorious burst of enthusiasm, and began repeating snatches from Shakspeare, in the pleasant travesty he had hit upon. “Cradock revoked, and you never saw him,” said the lady, dryly, interrupting the monologue. “I did see it clearly enough, but I had done so twice the same game,” said he, gayly; “and if the grave were to give up its dead, I, too, should be a murderer. Fine thought that, is n't it?” “He won seventeen and sixpence from you,” rejoined she, pettishly. “Two bad half-crowns,--dowlas, filthy dowlas,” was the answer. “And the hopeful young gentleman in the next room,--what profitable intentions, may I ask you, have you with respect to him?” “Burke! Tom Burke! Bless your heart, he 's only son and heir to Burke of Mount Blazes, in the county Galway. His father keeps three packs of harriers, one of fox, and another of staghounds,--a kind of brindled devils, three feet eight in height; he won't take them under. His father and mine were schoolfellows at Dundunderamud, in the Himalaya, and he--that is, old Burke--saved my father's life in a tiger hunt. And am I to forget the heritage of gratitude my father left me?” “You ought not, perhaps, since it was the only one he bequeathed,” quoth the lady. “What! is the territory of Shamdoonah and Bunfunterabad nothing? are the great suits of red emeralds and blue opal, that were once the crown jewels of Saidh Sing Doolah, nothing? is the scymitar of Hafiz, with verses of the Koran in letters of pure brilliants, nothing?” “You'll drive me distracted with your insane folly,” rejoined the lady, rising and pushing back her chair with violence. “To talk this way when you know you have n't got a five pound note in the world.” “Ha, ha, ha!” laughed out the jolly voice of the other; “that's good, faith. If I only consented to dip my Irish property, I could raise fourteen hundred and seventy thousand pounds,--so Mahony tells me. But I 'll never give up the royalties,--never! There, you have my last word on the matter: rather than surrender my tin mine, I'd consent to starve on twelve thousand a year, and resign my claim to the title which, I believe, the next session will give me; and when you are Lady Machinery--something or other--maybe they won't bite, eh? Ramskins versus wrinkles.” A violent bang of the door announced at this moment the exit of the lady in a rage, to which her companion paid no attention, as he continued to mumble to himself, “Surrender the royalties,--never! Oh, she 's gone. Well, she's not far wrong, after all. I dare not draw a cheque on my own exchequer at this moment for a larger sum than--let me see--twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-eight and tenpence; with twenty-nine shillings, the grand firm of Bubbleton and Co. must shut up and suspend their payments.” So saying, he walked from the room in stately fashion, and closed the door after him.