182 THE BOAUDING-HOUSE. 



cratic employment ; he knew the peerage by heart, and could tell 

 you off-hand where any illustrious personage lived. He had a good 

 set of teeth, and a capital tailor. Mr. Evenson looked on all these 

 qualifications with profound contempt; and the consequence was that 

 the two were always disputing, much to the edification of the rest of 

 the house. It should be added, that, in addition to his partiality for 

 whistling, Mr. Wisbottle had a great idea of his singing powers. 

 There were two other boarders besides the gentleman in the back 

 drawing-room Mr. Alfred Tomkins, and Mr. Frederick O'Bleary. 

 Mr. Tomkins was a clerk in a wine house ; he was a connoisseur in 

 paintings, and had a wonderful eye for the picturesque. Mr. O'Bleary 

 was an Irishman, recently imported ; he was in a perfectly wild state, 

 and had come over to England to be an apothecary, a clerk in a 

 government office, an actor, a reporter, or anything else that turned 

 up he was not particular. He was on familiar terms with two small 

 Irish members, and got franks for everybody in the house. Like all 

 Irishmen when they first come to England, he felt convinced that 

 his intrinsic merits must procure him a high destiny. He wore 

 shepherds'-plaid inexpressibles, and used to look under all the ladies' 

 bonnets as he walked along the streets. His manners and appearance 

 always forcibly reminded one of Orson. 



"Here comes Mr. Wisbottle," said Tibbs; and Mr. Wisbottle 

 forthwith appeared in blue slippers, and a shawl dressing-gown, 

 whistling " Di placer." 



" Good morning, Sir," said Tibbs again. It was about the only 

 thing he ever said to any body. 



" How are you, Tibbs ?" condescendingly replied the amateur ; and 

 he walked to the window, and whistled louder than ever. 



" Pretty air that !" said Evenson with a snarl, and without taking 

 his eyes off the paper. 



" Glad you like it," replied Wisbottle, highly gratified. 



" Don't you think it would sound better, if you whistled it a little 

 louder ?" inquired the mastiff. 



" No ; I don't think it would," rejoined the unconscious Wis- 

 bottle. 



" I'll tell you what, Wisbottle," said Evenson, who had been bot- 

 tling up his anger for some hours, " the next time you feel disposed 

 to whistle, ' The Light Guitar,' at five o'clock in the morning, I'll 

 trouble you to whistle it with your head out o' window. If you 

 don't, I'll learn the triangle I will by ." 



The entrance of Mrs. Tibbs (with the keys in a little basket) in- 

 terrupted the threat, and prevented its conclusion. 



Mrs. Tibbs apologized for being down rather late ; the bell was 

 rung; James brought up the urn, and received an unlimited order 

 for dry toast and bacon. Tibbs sat himself down at the bottom of 

 the table and began eating water-cresses like a second Nebuchad- 

 nezzar. Mr. O'Bleary appeared and Mr. Alfred Tomkins. The 

 compliments of the morning were exchanged, and the tea was made. 



" God bless me," exclaimed Tomkins, who had been looking out 

 at window. " Here Wisbottle pray come here; make haste." 



Mr. Wisbottle started from table, and every one looked up. 



