The Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush

HE NALE ON

r; my lady was before a great box of papers, busy with accounts, bankers’ books, lawyers’ letters, and what not. Law bless us! it’s a kind of bisniss I should like well enuff; especially when

on the sofy beside her, which Deuceace took. My lady only looked up for a moment,

says Miss, “from nasty lawyers and people. C

ys he, “my dear Miss Griffin; why, I

y flumries, in coarse), “we met a frien

end of the ambassador, and surprised me

ul old man! how he lo

ys master, throwing

ng but you, and su

od, my dear father; but blind, as all fathe

ldest son. ‘I can but leave him the small portion of a younger brother,’ he said

oh yes; I am quite in

ft you by your godmother; the

s head; a sufficiency, my dear Miss Griffin — to

who are talking about money matters there, I wish you would come to the a

his i’s shone, as he skipt across th

remittance of 7,200 rupees, at 2s. 9d. a rupee. Do tell me what the s

Whose money is this, mine or Matilda’s? You see it is the interest of a sum in India, which we have not had occasion to touch; and, according

ou would arrange the

and she laid her hand on his and lo

w Sir George left his money; you

willi

have got springs in the cushns; he

s, a colonel in the H. E. I. Company’s Service, and to John Monro Mackirkincroft (of the house of Huffle, Mackirkincroft, and Dobbs, at Calcutta), the whole of my property, to be realized as speedily as they may (consistently with the interests of the property), in trust for my wife, Leonora Emilia Griffin (born L. E. Kicksey), and my only legitimat

l the rest is stuff. But now you know the whole bu

estionably, should be

really thought it ha

.

h he had been seated with her ladyship, paced up and down the room for a while, and then came

; your dear eyes grant me the permission. I need not tell you, or you, dear mother-inlaw, how long, how fondly, I have adored you. My tender, my beautiful Matilda, I will not affect to say I have not read your heart ere this, and that I have not known

d her eyes about, and fell on master

e world like Madam Pasty, in the oppra of “Mydear” (when she’s goin to mudder her childring, you recklect); and out she flounced from the

ot it in a ruff copy; only on the copy it’s wrote, “Lady Griffin, Leo

head this time, he thought: but his a