previous vows to the contrary. Nay, the good ladies would sit and be
delighted with the music of the Miss Lambs, who would condescend to
strum an Irish melody for them on the piano; and they would listen
with wonderful interest to Mrs. Lamb's anecdotes of Alderman Plunket's
family, of Portsokenward, and the Miss Timberlakes, the rich heiresses
of Crutched-Friars; but then they relieved their consciences, and
averted the reproaches of their confederates, by canvassing at the next
gossiping convocation everything that had passed, and pulling the Lambs
and their rout all to pieces.

The only one of the family that could not be made fashionable was the
retired butcher himself. Honest Lamb, in spite of the meekness of his
name, was a rough, hearty old fellow, with the voice of a lion, a head
of black hair like a shoe-brush, and a broad face mottled like his own
beef. It was in vain that the daughters always spoke of him as "the old
gentleman," addressed him as "papa," in tones of infinite softness,
and endeavored to coax him into a dressing-gown and slippers, and other
gentlemanly habits. Do what they might, there was no keeping down the
butcher. His sturdy nature would break through all their glozings. He
had a hearty vulgar good-humor that was irrepressible. His very jokes
made his sensitive daughters shudder; and he persisted in wearing his
blue cotton coat of a morning, dining at two o'clock, and having a "bit
of sausage with his tea."

He was doomed, however, to share the unpopularity of his family. He
found his old comrades gradually growing cold and civil to him; no
longer laughing at his jokes; and now and then throwing out a fling at
"some people," and a hint about "quality binding." This both nettled
and perplexed the honest butcher; and his wife and daughters, with
the consummate policy of the shrewder sex, taking advantage of the