candles being lighted, punch was brought.

She drank one or two glasses very eagerly, and so did her two companions, although it was evident to see, from the flushed looks of both of them, that they had little need of any such stimulus. The count, in the midst of his champagne, it must be said, had been amazingly stricken and scandalised by the appearance of such a youth as Billings in a public place, with a lady under his arm. He was, the reader will therefore understand, in the moral stage of liquor; and when he issued out, it was not merely with the intention of examining Mr. Billings's female companion, but of administering to him some sound correction for venturing, at his early period of life, to form any such acquaintances. On joining Billings, his excellency's first step was naturally to examine the lady. After they had been sitting for a while over their punch, he bethought him of his original purpose, and began to address a number of moral remarks to his son.

We have already given some specimens of Monsieur de Galgenstein's sober conversation; and it is hardly necessary to trouble the reader with any further reports of his speeches. They were intolerably stupid and dull; as egotistical as his morning lecture had been, and a hundred times more rambling and prosy. If Cat had been in the possession of her sober senses, she would have seen in five minutes that her ancient lover was a ninny, and have left him with scorn; but she was under the charm of old recollections, and the sound of that silly voice was to her magical. As for Mr. Billings, he allowed his excellency to continue his prattle, only frowning, yawning, cursing, occasionally, but drinking continually.

So the count descanted at length upon the enormity of young Billings's early liaisons; and then he told his own, in the year six, with a burgomaster's daughter at Ratisbon, when he was in the Elector of Bavaria's service-then, after Blenheim, when he had come over to the Duke of Marlborough, when a physician's wife at Bonn poisoned herself for him, &c. &c. ; of a piece with the story of the canoness, which has been recorded before. All the tales were true. A clever, ugly man, every now and then is successful with the ladies; but a handsome fool is irre

Good Heavens! she had heard all these tales before, and recollected the place and the time-how she was hemming a handkerchief for Max, who came round and kissed her, vowing that the physician's wife was nothing compared to her how he was tired, and lying on the sofa, just come home from shooting. How handsome he looked! Cat thought he was only the handsomer now; and looked more grave and thoughtful, the dear fellow!

The garden was filled with a vast deal of company of all kinds, and parties were passing every moment before the arbour where our trio sat. About half an hour after his excellency had quitted his own box and party, the Rev. Mr. O'Flaherty came discreetly round, to examine the proceedings of his diplomatical chef. The lady in the mask was listening with all her might; Mr. Billings was drawing figures on the table with punch; and the count talking incessantly. The father confessor listened for a moment; and then, with something resembling an oath, walked away to the entry of the gardens, where his excellency's gilt coach, with three footmen, was waiting to carry him back to London. "Get me a chair, Joseph," said his reverence, who infinitely preferred a seat, gratis, in the coach: "that fool," muttered he, "will not move for this hour," The reverend gentleman knew that, when the count was on the subject of the physician's wife, his discourses were intolerably long; and took upon himself, therefore, to disappear, along with the rest of the count's party, who procured other conveyances, and returned to their homes.

After this quiet shadow had passed before the count's box, many groups of persons passed and repassed; and among them was no other than Mrs. Polly Briggs, to whom we have been introduced in the morning. Mrs. Polly was in company with one or two other ladies, and leaning on the arm of a gentleman, with large shoulders and calves, a fierce cock to his hat, and a shabby genteel air. His name was Mr. Moffat, and his present occupation was that of door-keeper at a gamblinghouse in Covent Garden; where, though he saw many thousands pass daily under his eyes, his own salary amounted to no more than four-and-sixpence weekly, a sum quite insufficient to which he held.

Mr. Moffat had, however, received some funds-amounting, indeed, to a matter of twelve guineas within the last month, and was treating Mrs. Briggs very generously to the concert. It may be as well to say, that every one of the twelve guineas had come out of Mrs. Polly's own pocket, who, in return, had received them from Mr. Billings; and as the reader may remember that, on the day of Tommy's first interview with his father, he had previously paid a visit to Mrs. Briggs, having under his arm a pair of breeches, which Mrs. Briggs coveted: he should now be informed that she desired these breeches, not for pincushions, but for Mr. Moffat, who had long been in want of a pair.

Having thus episodically narrated Mr. Moffat's history, let us state that he, his lady, and their friends, passed before the count's arbour, joining in a melodious chorus, to a song which one of the society, an actor of Betterton's, was singing:

"Tis my will, when I'm dead, that no tear shall be shed,

No Hic Jacet' be graved on my stone; But pour o'er my ashes a bottle of red, And say a good fellow is gone, My brave boys!

And say a good fellow is gone."

$6 My brave boys" was given with vast emphasis by the party; Mr. Moffat growling it in a rich bass, and Mrs. Briggs in a soaring treble. As to the notes, when quavering up to the skies, they excited various emotions among the people in the gardens. "Silence them blackguards!" shouted a barber, who was taking a pint of small-beer along with his lady. "Stop that there infernal screeching!" said a couple of ladies, who were sipping ratafia in company with two pretty fellows.

Dang it, it's Polly!" said Mr. Tom Billings, bolting out of the box, and rushing towards the sweet-voiced Mrs. Briggs. When he reached her, which he did quickly, and made his arrival known by tipping Mrs. Briggs slightly on the waist, and suddenly bouncing down before her and her friend, both of the latter drew back somewhat startled.

"Law, Mr. Billings!" says Mrs. Polly, rather coolly, "is it you? Who thought of seeing you here?"

"Who's this here young feller?" says towering Mr. Moffat, with his bass voice.

"It's Mr. Billings, cousin, a friend of mine," said Mrs. Polly, beseechingly.

"O cousin, if it's a friend of yours, he should know better how to conduct himself, that's all. Har you a dancingmaster, young feller, that you cut them there capers before gentlemen?" growled Mr. Moffat, who hated Mr. Billings, for the excellent reason that he lived upon him.

"Dancing-master be hanged!" said Mr. Billings, with becoming spirit: "if you call me dancing-master, I'll pull your nose."

"What!" roared Mr. Moffat, " pull my nose? My nose! I'll tell you what, my lad, if you durst move me, I'll cut your throat, curse me!"

"O Moffy-cousin, I mean-'tis a shame to treat the poor boy so. Go away, Tommy, do go away; my cousin's in liquor," whimpered Madam Briggs, who really thought that the great door-keeper would put his threat into execution.

"Tommy!" said Mr. Moffat, frowning horribly; Tommy to me too? Dog, get out of my ssss- sight was the word which Mr. Moffat intended to uttter; but he was interrupted, for, to the astonishment of his friends and bimself, Mr. Billings did actually make a spring at the monster's nose, and caught it so firmly, that the latter could not finish his sentence.

The operation was performed with amazing celerity; and, having concluded it, Mr. Billings sprung back, and whisked from out its sheath that new silver-hilted sword which his mamma had given him. "Now," said he, with a fierce kind of calmness, 66 now for the throat-cutting cousin : I'm your man!"

How the brawl might have ended, no one can say, had the two gentlemen actually crossed swords; but Mrs. Polly, with a wonderful presence of mind, restored peace, by exclaiming, "Hush, hush! the beaks, the beaks!" Upon which, with one common instinct, the whole party made a rush for the garden gates, and disappeared into the fields. Mrs. Briggs knew her company: there was something in the very name of a constable which sent them all a flying.

After running a reasonable time, Mr. Billings stopped. But the great Moffat was no where to be seen, and Polly Briggs had likewise vanished. Then

Tom bethought him that he would go back to his mother; but, arriving at the gate of the gardens, was refused admittance, as he had not a shilling in his pocket. "I've left," says Tommy, giving himself the airs of a gentleman, "some friends in the gardens. I'm with his excellency the Bavarian henvy.” "Then you had better go away with him" said the gate people.

"But I tell you I left him there, in the grand circle, with a lady, and, what's more, in the dark walk, I have left a silver-hilted sword."

"O my lord, I'll go and tell him then," cried one of the porters, " if you will wait."

Mr. Billings seated himself on a post near the gate, and there consented to remain until the return of his messenger. The latter went straight to the dark walk, and found the sword, sure enough. But, instead of returning it to its owner, this discourteous knight broke the trenchant blade at the hilt; and flinging the steel away, pocketed the baser silver metal, and Turked off by the private door consecrated to the waiters and fiddlers.

In the meantime, Mr. Billings waited and waited. And what was the conversation of his worthy parents inside the garden? I cannot say; but one of the waiters declared, that he had served the great foreign count with two bowls of rack punch, and some biscuits, in No. 3: that in the box with him were first a young gentleman, who went away, and a lady, splendidly dressed and masked: that when the lady and his lordship were alone, she edged away to the further end of the table,

and they had much talk: that at last, when his grace had pressed her very much, she took off her mask, and said, "Don't you know me now, Max?" that he cried out, "My own Catherine, thou art more beautiful than ever!" and wanted to kneel down and vow eternal love to her; but she begged him not to do so in a place where all the world would see: that then his highness paid, and they left the gardens, the lady pulling on her mask again.

When they issued from the gardens, "Ho! Joseph La Rose, my coach!" shouted his excellency, in rather a husky voice; and the men who had been waiting came up with the carriage. A young gentleman, who was dosing on one of the posts at the entry, woke up suddenly at the blaze of the torches and the noise of the footmen. The count gave his arm to the lady in the mask, who slipped in; and he was whispering La Rose, when the lad who had been sleeping hit his excellency on the shoulder, and said, "I say, count, you can give me a cast home too," and jumped into the coach.

When Catherine saw her son, she threw herself into his arms, and kissed him with a burst of hysterical tears, of which Mr. Billings was at a loss to understand the meaning. The count joined them, looking not a little disconcerted; and the pair were landed at their own door, where stood Mr. Hayes, in his nightcap, ready to receive them, and astounded at the splendour of the equipage in which his wife returned to him.

place. There is no evidence to prove that they were ever so designated before the appearance of these Tracts.

Before we advance further, we would remark that the same title is applied to Hickes and Collier, in the recent article on the Tracts for the Times in the Quarterly Review. The writer of that article speaks of Bishop Hickes and Bishop Collier! Now, this single circumstance, notwithstanding any avowals to the contrary, affords ample demonstration that the article was written by one of the party: not, indeed, by one of the three principal writers, but by one who is intimately connected with them; for no one except a partisan, or, at all events, one deeply imbued with the same principles, would have used such a designation, seeing that the term has never been adopted till now by any writer, whether friendly or otherwise to the principles of the Nonjurors. We cannot but express our decided conviction, that the whole affair is one of the most extraordinary in the annals of reviewing. In periodicals of little merit and no reputation, an author may frequently be permitted to review his own production; but such a course ought not to be adopted by the conductors of a work so respectable and so influential as the Quarterly Review. To us, indeed, it is a matter of surprise that the talented editor did not perceive, that the single circumstance to which we have alluded was abundantly sufficient to prove, even if other evidence were wanting, that the article in question proceeded from one of the party. The editor may publish a disclaimer; but nothing which he can allege will remove the impression, that the Quarterly Review is now an ally of the writers of the Tracts for the Times. It is not possible for any man, not intimately connected with the writers of the Tracts, to designate two Nonjuring clergymen as bishops.

The authors of these Tracts avow themselves to be the advocates of primitive rules and primitive practices. They profess great reverence for apostolical tradition, and the canons and customs of the early Church. Nor have they hesitated to declare their convic

tion that, in some respects, the Church of England has departed too far from the discipline and practice of the pri mitive Church. When men make such professions, they ought to be consistent : they ought to be careful not to assert principles, without duly considering the consequences which must flow from those principles. On their own ground-ground chosen by themselves -we intend to meet them in this paper and we pledge ourselves to prove, that, by admitting Hickes and Collier to be bishops, they are acting in violation of all the canons, all the customs, and all the practices of the Church, from the apostolic age down to the present moment. And, further, we shall make it appear, that the prin ciple involved in the admission that Hickes and Collier were bishops, is destructive of the apostolical succession in the Anglican Church: in other words, that if Hickes and Collier were bishops, as these writers allege, there are no canonical bishops in England at the present moment, nor the slightest vestige of the apostolical succession. It is not necessary for us to decide whether Hickes and Collier were bishops : they are so regarded by the writers of the Tracts. And we now proceed to point out the consequences which are involved in their admission.

In the first place, we quote the 36th of the Apostolical Canons :

"Let not a bishop presume to ordain in cities and villages not subject to him. And if he be convicted of doing so, without consent of those to whom such places belong, let him and those whom he has ordained be deposed."*

These canons are of great antiquity. By some they are attributed to the apostolic age; and it is certain that they were framed not later than the end of the second or the beginning of the third century.

In the next place, we turn to the Nicene canons. The Council of Nice, assembled A.D. 325, and its canons, have ever been received in the Church. It is the first of the four councils, which are held in such reverence by the Church of England. The 8th canon

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