commercial cayenne known as gentlemen
of the bag. The little town—in its ordinary shape
somewhat mean and stagnant in temperament—
was in a manner glorified; its resources were
strained and dislocated. There were foreign
and outlandish tongues heard in its streets, and
it was rumoured among those who gossiped in
frieze coats that there were strange gentlemen,
skilled in the law, and speaking with a Scottish
brogue, billeted in lodgings; nay, for that matter,
there were great counsels, arch big-wigs, huge
thunderers—not belonging to that regular beat
—who had been "brought down special." The
tenements where these awful auxiliaries
condescended to lay their heads, could also be
pointed out, but with a sense of mystery; and
people were taken to see the residence where
the foreign witnesses were detained with jealous
precaution in a sort of honourable captivity.
Above all, it was rife among the gaping multitude
that some monster mortars, forensic huge
legal artillery, which on the morrow would crash
and scatter destruction, had been brought down.
One was named Brightside.

The story unwound during the next few days
is more romantic than any authorised romance.
There is a beautiful lady in the centre; not
one of the passive smooth waters concerning
whom there is unaccountable ferment, but a
dazzling sparkling creature, with a conscious or
unconscious power, that reached almost to the
demoniac, of working mischief. She was left
a widow, and a very youthful widow, by a rich
Scottish officer of the name of Colebrooke, and
then she began to work her spells and enchanments.
A confidential maid described her, soberly
and temperately, as "a very pretty little
woman, very good manners, very well educated."
But by a lover was she thus rapturously construed:
"The most beautiful creature in Edinburgh,
and the handsomest I ever saw; not in
my opinion only, but in that of every person."

The scene throughout was at Edinburgh, in
the high days of its fame and reputation. It
was about the year eighteen hundred and ten;
and Edinburgh then teemed with brilliant professors
in all the sciences, to sit at whose feet
the world sent all its growing-up sons. And
there was choice society in the city, sprinkled
with wit and elegance, by which the student
with decent introduction might profit. In this
moved a certain Professor Jeffrey and one
Homer, and a clergyman of the name of Sydney
Smith, together with notorious lecturers,
called Dugald Stewart and Dr. Reid, and others
with whom we have now a certain familiarity.

ln the very heart of this society moved Mrs.
Satanella Colebrooke, keeping up an establishment
of horses, and carriages, and retainers,
including the confidential maid to whom she
appeared as a "pretty little woman." Confidential
maid's name was Stride. Mrs. Colebrooke had
her two daughters with her, who were "wards
of Chancery," and for them she was supplied
a maintenance of some five hundred a year,
besides a handsome jointure of her own.

A little before this time, the Honourable Henry
Butler had been wandering about places of
fashionable resort, as many noble Irishmen of
that day did—possibly in the capacity of a
nomadic CÅ“lebs, seeking that pearl of inestimable
price, an heiress. In his wanderings he looked
in on a place then known as Brightelmstone,
but which, later, became more manageable in
the matter of pronunciation as Brighton, and
there he became enthralled by this fatal
Satanella. It is to be feared that the friendship
between the two was of a warmer character
than the stricter canons of society would now
countenance. But the elegant society of those
days, taking its tone from a model known as the
Gentleman in Europe, did not too nicely
regard little failings.

Then came a shifting to Sloane-street, London,
to a mansion in Cadogan-place; there, were
horses, carriages, retainers, and confidential
maid Stride; the two young ladies, wards of
Chancery; and the Honourable Henry still hanging
on in a dubious and suspicious capacity,
letting himself in and out privately. Presently
the scene is at Edinburgh, back again in the
intellectual society; but another Irish CÅ“lebs
has stepped upon the stage. "A gentlemanly
little man—a very pretty gentleman—more the
features of a lady than a gentleman"—a sort
of preux chevalier, of elegant tastes and very
popular. He was Mr. Taaffe, of Smarmore
Castle, county Louth, and heir to some five
thousand a year. He, too, had been drawn to
Modern Athens by the attraction of its intellectual
society; and, as he says himself, principally
to make the acquaintance of Mr. Jeffrey
and Sir Walter Scott. He wished, also, to
attend the lectures of Dugald Stewart, and of the
famous chemist Hope. This gentleman would
appear to have been a man of tastes and
accomplishments.

It came to pass that at a particular
Edinburgh evening party Mr. Taaffe was introduced
to Mrs. Satanella Colebrooke. The result
was a deep impression on both sides. The pretty
little gentleman with the lady's face, found
favour in Satanella's eyes, and a few days after
the party, Mr. Fortescue, another Irish knight
upon his travels, stopped his horse in the street
to give him a message from the fascinating
lady. The result was a fiery attachment; in
the thick of which, it may be a curious
subject of speculation how it fared with Professors
Dugald Stewart and Hope.

Act the second. After some months of this
agreeable medley of love, science, and society,
Nemesis steps on from the side scene. One evening,
far in the night, a violent knocking is heard
at the door, together with furious declamation
and angry parley;  and it is understood that the
Honourable Butler has arrived, is below, and is
anxious to be placed on his former footing. This
inopportune appearance of the Honourable Butler
is the more embarrassing, as his successor is
actually on the premises. However, imperative
orders are sent down, and the Honourable Butler
is sternly refused admittance. Lover the second
is thus delivered from a rather awkward