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bon mot, or a calembourg, or exit Mr. Vivian Grey."

"Well then, good morning! I'm off for a black crape, or a Barcelona kerchief.—Mrs. Cleveland is—dead."

"Dead!" exclaimed Mrs. Lorraine.

"Ay; cold dead. She died last night——suddenly.—Isn't it horrible?"

"Shocking!" exclaimed Mrs. Lorraine, with a mournful voice, and an eye dancing with joy. "Why! Mr. Grey, I do declare you're weeping."

"It is not for the departed!"

"Nay, Vivian! for Heaven's sake, what's the matter?"

"My dear Mrs. Lorraine!"—But here the speaker's voice was choaked with grief, and he could not proceed.

"Pray, compose yourself."

"Mrs. Felix Lorraine, can I speak with you half an hour, undisturbed?"