Humming of the Honey-bee," (far superior in MY judgment, and in that
of SOME GOOD JUDGES likewise, to that humbug Clarence Bulbul's
ballads,)--to hear her, I say, sing these, was to be in a sort of small
Elysium. Dear, dear little Fanny Dixon! she was like a little chirping
bird of Paradise. It was a shame that storms should ever ruffle such a
tender plumage.

Well, never mind about sentiment. Danby Dixon, the owner of this little
treasure, an ex-captain of Dragoons, and having nothing to do, and
a small income, wisely thought he would employ his spare time, and
increase his revenue. He became a director of the Cornaro Life Insurance
Company, of the Tregulpho tin-mines, and of four or five railroad
companies. It was amusing to see him swaggering about the City in his
clinking boots, and with his high and mighty dragoon manners. For a time
his talk about shares after dinner was perfectly intolerable; and I for
one was always glad to leave him in the company of sundry very dubious
capitalists who frequented his house, and walk up to hear Mrs. Fanny
warbling at the piano with her little children about her knees.

It was only last season that they set up a carriage--the modestest
little vehicle conceivable--driven by Kirby, who had been in Dixon's
troop in the regiment, and had followed him into private life as
coachman, footman, and page.

One day lately I went into Dixon's house, hearing that some calamities
had befallen him, the particulars of which Miss Clapperclaw was desirous
to know. The creditors of the Tregulpho Mines had got a verdict against
him as one of the directors of that company; the engineer of the
Little Diddlesex Junction had sued him for two thousand three hundred
pounds--the charges of that scientific man for six weeks' labor in