Seated in the House-keeper's own Room at the Dook of SURREY's lovely
Manshun, playfoolly patting his fatted calves, and surrounded by his
admiring cirkle, sat CHARLES, the ero of my Tale. CHARLES was the idle
of that large establishment. They simply adored him. It was not only
his manly bewty, tho that mite have made many an Apoller envy him. It
was not only his nolledge of the world, tho in that he was sooperior
to menny a Mimber of Parlyment from the Sister Oil, but it was his
stile, his grace, his orty demeaner. The House-keeper paid him marked
attenshuns. The Ladies Maid supplyed him with Sent for his ankerchers.
The other Footmen looked up to him as their moddel, and ewen the
sollem Butler treated him with respec, and sumtimes with sumthink
else as he liked even better. The leading Gentlemen from other Doocal
establishments charfed him upon his success with the Fare, ewen among
the werry hiest of the Nobillerty, and CHARLES bore it all with a
good-natured larf that showed off his ivory teeth to perfecshun. Of
course it was all in fun, as they said, and probberly thort, till
on this fatal ewening, the noose spread like thunder, through the
estonished world of Fashun, that CHARLES had heloped with the welthy,
the middle-aged, but still bewtifool, Marchioness of ST. BENDIGO.