The Sun.
London, England, 1863-10-03 00:00:00

A YOUNG LADY OF GOOD SOCIETY.

One end of the skipping rope had been made fast to an
old• fashioned fire screen at a considerable height from the
ground, the other was held by Lord Clarence, his hand-
some but still youthful face beaming with good humour.
The Viscount, at a little distance, with a gold pencil case,
was, with a more serious air, writing in a morocco pocket
book. Their sister kept walking backwards slowly, and
with a clear calculating glance was eyeing the rope.
"Now look alive, Cass I" she cried, without removing
her gaze. " Repeat the conditions of the bet."
"Eleven to five that you don't clear that rope," he
replied.
" A. running leap, Cass ?"
-
"Yes, a running leap."
"You'd better not attempt it, Pussy," said Lord Clarence.
"It's a good deal too high for you."
"Shut up, old fellow."
"You may have a severe fall and hurt yourself, my

pet."
" Shut up."
" I really think you'd better give it up."

Lord Clarence's solicitude only elicited a louder and more
peremptory order for silence from the young lady, who
continued to eye the barrier with knitted brows, as though
doubtful her powers were equal to the anticipated strain
upon them.

" And what will you bet, Clarry, that I don't do it ?''
she asked. " Will you bet a pony l'"

" No, I don't like to tempt you into breaking your pretty
neck."

" Shut up I" was shouted in a voice that made both the
young men laugh heartily.

"I don't mind standing half a sovereign to a shilling,"
he added.

" Don©. Book the bet, Cass," she cried. " Why, that's
ten to one," she added. "Ter Jupiter !as you used to say
whorl you came from Westminster, I'll do it."

" Now, my dear child," said her elder brother, taking his
cigar from his mouth to knock off the ash, " don't be
desperate ; I should be inconsolable if anything terrible
occurred."

" Old fellow," you're afraid of losing your tin," she
answered fearlessly, then clapping her hands with an exult •
ing cry, she ran out of the room.

The young lady soon returns, takes the leap, and
wins the bet. The interesting trio are shortly after-
wards joined by the new tutor of Lord Clarence,
who, venturing upon some complimentary remark
to the young lady, is replied to in the following
style :
"0, nonsense," answered the young lady, to the im-
mense gratification of her brothers. " I'm not quite such
a fool as I look. The verdure in my organs of vision is
not, by a good deal, so conspicuous as you seem to suppose.
So you need not display your fine set of teeth in that way,
as if you wanted to sell them at a profit."

The rcirth was louder than before, the loudest laugher
being the object of the satirical remark.

"I dare say you had them cheap enough," she added.
The tutor above mentioned, the Rev. Emanuel
Mordecate,M.A., is another startling specimen of the
habitues of Good Society. This gentleman, having
been a very distinguished member of the Univer-
sity of Oxford, had joined the Tractarian party,
and ultimately become a Catholic priest and a
Jesuit. He is described as singularly graceful, ac-
complished, and fascinating, the friend and com-
panion of country curates and London marchionesses.
Three times in the course of the narrative we are
induced to accompany the reverend gentleman to
his chamber, when about to retire for the night,
and we become the astonished witnesses of his very
surprising devotions. This fellow of Oxford, and
member of the Society of Jesuits, prays, we are
told, neither in English nor in Latin, neither ac-
cording to his present nor to his former belief, but,
with his hat on, his devotions are uttered in
Hebrew, and then appears before him the home of
his childhood in the Kalver Straat of Amster-
dam, and his Jewish mother Esther. So much
is Mrs. Grey impressed with this idea that,
as we have said, no less than three times
she repeats the same incident, with almost
the same reflections. The conclusion of the
career of this accomplished gentleman—this reve-
rend Sidonia—is as surprising as any part of it.
The English curate, the Rev. Septimus Fairholme,
also amezes us by his marriage with a lady of very
anomalous antecedents, the supposed wife of a very
notorious nobleman, Lord Valiance. This noble lord
affords us another strange specimen of the manners
of the day. He is ill and alone, under the care of
two ancient sisters, Dorcas and Charity, and he
addresses them after the following amiable
fashion :

LANGUAGE OF A NOBLE LORD IN GOOD SOCIETY.
6, You hag 1" he criod, as the first entered, "is a fellow
to be frozen to death for want of a fire, and to be starved to
death for want of a meal ? You horrible old Witch of
Endor, you Sycorax—you_____),

If you please, sir," said the elder, gravely, while put-
ting down her tray, "my name is Dorcas, and my sister's
name is Charity,"

"Your name is Hell-cat, and your sister's Mother Beel-
zebub I" replied Lord Valiance. fiercely.
The younger of the two women looked at her sister to see
how she would take the affront, but finding that she
looked over her spectacles at the offender with far more
curiousity than indignation, she did not venture on a
reply.
" Look here, you pair of Ilecates. I'm not going to put
up with this treatment. It don't suit my book at all. I
feel, dreadfully ill. Never felt so dreadfully seedy in all
my life. I almost feel as if regularly used up—by Jove I
do I I've been used to live among Christians, not among
such antediluvian hippopotamuses as you. Let me have a
good fire, a good dinner, and oceans of devilish good brandy
and water—hot and strong. Do You hear, you untame-
able hyenas P''
Miss Lucrtzia Stickler, the American Governess,
who proves to be the real Lady Valiance, is another
exaggerated caricature ; while, on the other hand,
among the happier sketches is the rich self-made
Mr, Dreliceourt, who, having Purchased a country
estate, aspires to emulate Sir Roger de Coverley.
Although at times somewhat ridiculous, the would-
be "Squire" is on the whole a very original and
agreeable companion, and we can hardly believe
even the Marquis of Mount Trevor would venture
to befool him to the following extent :
QITIS IN GOOD SOCIETY.
HUMOROUS CONDUCT OF A MAIL

A pheasant rose whirring from the Underwood ahnont at
their feet. Mr. Drelincourt raised his gun, and fired both
barrels rapidly. The bird continued his course. The Mar-
quis fired, and the pheasant dropped,
" That was a capital shot of yours, toy dear sir," observed
his lordship, with his pleasantest smile, as they stopped to
reload, and one of the dogs picked up the game.
" Mine, my lord !" exclaimed Mr. Drelincourt, in un-
feigned surprise.
" You see you hit him in the liver_win_
g Now when a
h
bird is hit in the liver-wing, he never drops directly; he is
able to fly with the gizzard-wing as if unhurt; but he soon
finds he has come to grief, and down he goes to earth as
dead as a nail."
" I never knew that. I assure Your lordship I thought
I had missed him."

The Marquis's friend felt flattered and fluttered, and
was inexpressibly gratified as he observed Tomkinson
placing the five partridges in the game-bag with the
pheasant.
" Does your lordship think all of them were hit in the
liver-wing ?" asked Mr. Drelincourt.
" lam not certain," replied the Marquis deliberately,
and with a peculiar solemnity of manner. "you see they
dropped very soon after your fire, therefore I should not
line to take on myself the responsibility of saying where
they were hit without examination. But you hit them,
my dear Mr. Drelincourt, beyond all doubt."
" But will your lordship kindly excuse me if I venture
to say that I do not quite understand the application of the
sporting tutus yow lordship is good enough to use in re-