"Why, how the woman stares! To be sure I did. I'm one of your master's guests; so, let me in-quick; I'm quite late enough as it is. Do you hear, woman?- let me in, I say!"

"Bless your heart, I daren't do no such a thing, for it's directly against orders. Says my master to me, no later ago than yesterday-Betty, says he" "I tell you again, woman, I'm one of the party engaged to dine here today!" exclaimed Miles, in a loud tone of voice intended to bear down all opposition.

"I know nothing about that," replied Betty; "all I know is that master had a large dinner-party yesterday, and that this morning all the family set out for Southampton, where they mean to spend the autumn."

Poor Waddilove looked the very picture of despair as he heard these words; and, hastily fumbling about in his pockets, drew forth, after a close search, his friend's note of invitation, read it, and found his worst suspicions confirmed. True, he had been invited to a dinner-party at Captain Capulet's; but he had mistaken the day, and arrived just twenty-four hours too late!

When he had somewhat recovered the shock of this discovery, he entreated, in most moving terms, that Betty would at least let him in, and allow him to rest for a few minutes while he collected his scattered thoughts. But the old woman would not hear of such a proposal; she had received strict orders, she said, to "let no strangers in whatsomever," and it was as much as her place was worth to act "contrarywise."

"But I am no stranger, but, on the contrary, one of your master's oldest friends," insisted Miles.

"That's not my look-out," rejoined the unmoved Betty; "my orders is positive, to let no strangers in while the family's away; and you're a stranger to me, sir uncommon strange, to be sure!" she added in an under-tone, at the same time casting à sly suspicious glance at Waddilove's sullen visage and dust-soiled habiliments; after which she gave a brisk tug at the garden-gate, to assure herself that it was fast locked, and then made the best of her way back into the house.

Miles was now in a state of very grievous perplexity; for not only had

he lost his dinner, but his bed also, on which he always reckoned when invited to a party at the captain's. His first impulse was to return home immediately; but as this involved the necessity of a walk of upwards of four miles-there being no suitable conveyance to be procured at Caversham-he shrunk with dismay from the idea. Next he thought of taking his chance of a meal and a bed at the village alehouse; but as he passed it, the fumes of mingled gin, beer, and tobacco, issuing from the open window of the low-roofed parlour, assailed him so powerfully, that hot, jaded, and hungry as he was, he had not the heart to venture in. At last he recollected that, about a mile or two further on, past Caversham Park, there dwelt a rich, elderly, single lady, whom he had occasionally met at Captain Capulet's, and who had shown no unwillingness to cultivate his acquaintance. He had not seen this ancient dame for two years, nor would he have remembered her addressperhaps not even her name had not his memory just now been quickened by his necessities. Hoping that here at length he might get a dinner and a ride home in the lady's carriage, Waddilove trudged on with renewed spirit, just halting for a few minutes when he reached the great gates of the park, in order to brush the dust from his shoes and stockings with some large dockleaves that grew under the palings.

By this time the sun had set ;-a silver mist began to steam up from the broad valley of the Thames, the gnats rose by thousands, forming a sort of cloud just above the hedges, and the humming cockchafer "made wing" for the elms and horse-chestnut trees that flung their shadows far beyond the footpath, imparting a refreshing coolness to Miles's fevered frame, who, considering his sedentary habits, held up with remarkable perseverance, in the hope that he might reach his fair friend's house before nightfall. But he toiled on in vain; for not a single habitation of any sort was visible, the road-which, so far as he could see, ran straight as an arrow-being bordered on one side by hedges, and on the other by the long range of the park palings. Here was a dilemma! How should he act? Ask his way ? There was not a human being in sight to whom he could apply for information. Go back? In that case he would lose his last chance of procuring refreshment and a ride home. Go forward? Yes, this was his sole remaining alternative, to which he was the more disposed from the incessant promptings of the gastric juice, whose hints became every moment more significant, till at last he was compelled, as his only means of satisfying hunger, to halt and pluck the blackberries that grew thickly in the hedge, and those well-known Berkshire sloes, from which so much of our "old crusted port wine" is manufactured. Striking illustration of the caprice of fortune! A middle-aged epicure standing on tiptoe, like a schoolboy, to snatch an impromptu meal from some dusty shrubs in a high-road! When Miles had gathered a handful or more of this unsophisticated fruit, he sat down on a hillock that jutted out on the pathway, to eat, and if possible digest, it; but had scarcely finished his meal, when he was annoyed by an intolerable itching in his legs, and hastily jumping up, found-unhappy wretch! -that he had been sitting down upon an ant's nest!

While he was brushing off these pestilent insects, who evinced a keen sense of injury by stinging him in a hundred places, a man came jogging along the road on a cart-horse, and humming the plaintive air of "Bob and Joan." On enquiring of this warbling clodhopper the nearest way to Myrtle Lodge-the name of the ancient spinster's residence-Miles was told that he must go straight on for about a quarter of a mile, and then take the first turning on the right, which was a bypath leading up to the lodge. Having walked what he conceived to be this distance, he came, not to the path in question, but to an isolated cottage; and, on making a second enquiry of a young woman who was standing in the doorway, received for answer that he had still half a mile further to go! Delightful intelligence to a man whose tight shoes are constantly impressing his nervous system with an acute consciousness of corns! Perseverance, however, be the difficulties what they may, never fails to carry its point; and, in the fulness of time, Waddilove reached the lodge; but what words shall express his consternation and disgust when he saw, posted in large printed

letters in the unfurnished front parlour, "THIS HOUSE TO LET!"

Heart-stricken by this last calamity, Miles slowly and abstractedly set out on his return to Caversham, determined no longer to give in to the prejudices of his fastidious olfactories, but halt at the public-house, which he now regretted having passed with such disdain, make the most of whatever fare might be placed before him, and even pass the night there-so effectually had fatigue and hunger subdued his sense of gentility. But even this last sorry resource was denied him; for, on turning again into the high-road, absorbed in painful reverie, he took the wrong direction, so that, instead of retracing his course back to Caversham, he was momently placing himself at a greater distance from it. He did not discover his error his notions of locality being of a very confused, parsonAdams-like, character-till he found himself advanced upwards of a hundred yards upon a large tract of moorland. He instantly hurried back, but was again doomed to disappointment; for, just at the commencement of the common, three roads met, and for the life of him he could not make out which was the one he had just left. As well, however, as he could judge by the faint glimmer that still lingered in the west, the three ran in nearly parallel lines; so, concluding that each would lead to Caversham with but little difference in point of distance, he took the central road, and followed its course for nearly a mile, when, darkness coming on, he soon got off the track, and stumbled upon some marshy ground which sucked in his pumps at every third or fourth step he took, occasioning him as much annoyance as if he had been walking in damp weather over a ploughed field.

Waddilove was now quite desperate; and as he went floundering on, cursing the inexorable destiny that thus forced him, like M. Von Wodenblock in the tale, to "keep moving" whether he would or not, the cramp, brought on by fatigue, began to tie double-knots in the calf of each leg, while his stomach rumbled so exceedingly, from the joint effects of hunger and the tart fruit which he had swallowed, as to impress him with the humiliating conviction that he was just becoming a-roarer ! Miserable man! His walk to see the allied sovereigns was a mere Lounge compared to this. All sorts of grim imaginings beset him. Apoplexy haunted him like a spectre; and the freshening wind, as it swept across the unsheltered moor, seemed redolent of agues and rheumatisms. What enormous sin had he committed, that he should be thus visited with a severer punishment than if he had been sent to pick oakum at the tread-mill! Had he violated all the decencies of social life, or so far sported with the sacred interests of truth as to call Joseph Hume a statesman, then, indeed, he might have anticipated a stern retributive visitation. But he had done nothing of the sort; but, on the contrary, had always strictly fulfilled his duties as a man and a citizen, and held it as an axiom that Joseph was by no means a Solon. And yet here he was he whose anti-peripatetic prejudices were the strongest in his nature, and the constant theme of remark among his friends-wandering alone at nightfall on a moor, in silk stockings and pumps, thawing like a prize-ox in the dog days, and with no chance of bettering his condition until daybreak, supposing he should survive till then-or, at any rate, till the moon should rise, supposing that there was a moon! It was a cruel, an unprecedented case, and might have given a serious shock to his faith in a superintending Providence, had not his train of indignant meditation been seasonably diverted by his making a false step, and plumping down upon a smooth, dry mound. Too tired to get up again, and more than half persuaded that it was all over with him, and that he should be found a corpse before the morning, Miles threw himself at full length along this mound, and in a few minutes was fast asleep, and wandering through the land of dreams; now fancying that he was Captain Barclay, and walking for a wager a thousand miles in a thousand hours; and now, that he was Harlequin, and, as such, compelled not only to walk but to frisk through a pantomime, without stopping, for three mortal hours!

It was now nearly nine o'clock; the risen moon shone like a tempered sun, except when the clouds, driven by a fresh south-wind, swept across her orb; and by her light two men might be seen making their way over the common towards the mound whereon Miles lay sleeping. From their dress,

and still more from the hang-dog expression of their faces, it was evident that they were confirmed scapegoats

choice samples of a breed such as may be found in almost every country village; fellows who get drunk whenever they can; steal whatever they can lay their hands on; are at home in the stocks; familiar with the flavour of horse-ponds and the sharp discipline of the cat's-tail; and want nothing but opportunity to ensure their promotion to the gallows. Both these vagrant geniuses were attired in a costume whose uncommon raggedness approached to the picturesque. One wore a grey beaver hat, and a great-coat which reached to his ankles, and was patched in twenty different places; the other had no hat at all; but then, to make amends for this defect, his yellow shirttail stuck out behind through a fissure in his small clothes, in the gracefullest and most natural manner possible. As this precious couple drew near the slumbering Waddilove, whose nap had by this time lasted upwards of an hour, a sudden movement that he made with his legs, accompanied by a deep groan (as if, in the character of Harlequin, he was just going to take a reluctant leap head-foremost through a window), attracted their notice, and, hastening up, they gazed for a minute or so, in expressive silence, on the sleeper, who lay on his side with his head buried in his arms.

At length one whispered the other, "I say, Jack, this is a rum go, this is; there's been some of the family at work here, I take it."

"No, no," replied his com-rogue, stooping down and gently turning Miles on his back-"it's no affair of that natur; the cove's not been queered, he's only lushy, and as fast as a church - I'm blest if he ain't."

"Vy, then, I'm a-thinking, Jack," resumed the first speaker, laying his forefinger beside his nose, "as it would be but right and proper in us to take care of the gemman's watch and seals for him, for it's wery clear as he can't take care on 'em his-self."

"No more he can't, Bill," replied the other, with a grin of intelligence; "he's as helpless as a babby."

"Vy, then, here goes, Jack:" and so saying, the one scamp knelt down, and dexterously drew out Miles's gold watch, with its massive chain and seals; while the other ransacked his breechespockets, whence he presently extracted, with an air of modest triumph, a well-stored silk-net purse.

This done, they next proceeded to make free with Waddilove's hat and wig, and would even have reduced him to the attractive state of nature in which Adam was before the Fall, had not their intentions been frustrated by a loud trumpet-like snore from the sleeper, which startled their delicate nerves to such a degree, that they flew off across the common, as if, to quote Byron's well-known words, "the speed of thought were in their limbs."

Miles, mean-time, continued buried in profound repose, but about eleven o'clock he awoke, and, starting to his feet, looked about him with a countenance of as much wonder as Abon Hassan showed, when he found himself sitting up, broad awake, in the Caliph Haroun's state-bed. He soon, however, recovered his self-possession, and, being refreshed by his nap, and goaded to further peripatetic exertions by an appetite of wondrous potency, he gave a preliminary jump or so, by way of taking the starch-likestiff ness out of his knees, and then set out on his return to Caversham, no longer apprehensive of losing his way, for the moon shed down a steady radiance on the common, and enabled him to see that he was only separated from the right track by a patch of marshy ground, on the edge of which rose the grassy tumulus whereon he had made his bed.

Just as he was about to start, feeling an uncommon coolness-say, rather, a decided chill-in his upper story, he put his hand to his forehead, when, to his inexpressible astonishment, he discovered that he was minus hat and wig. How was this? Was there witchcraft in the case? Had Puck or Robin Goodfellow being trying their hands at petty larceny, or some vagabond zephyr taken a fancy to the articles in question? No, no; there had been no agency of this sort at work, as the bereaved Waddilove soon found to his cost, when on feeling for his watch, in order to see what o'clock it was, he ascertained that this too had gone, most likely to keep company with his hat and wig; and that his purse also had taken the opportunity of playing truant! I forbear, from conscious incapacity, to describe the paroxysms of rage into which Miles was thrown on making these

untoward discoveries; suffice it to say, that after firing off volleys of oaths, like minute-guns, till he was nearly black in the face with the effort, he took out his pocket-handkerchief, tied it about his bald shiny pate, after the fashion of an old Irish applewoman, and then hurried along his road, taking those fidgety, petulant, and irregular steps, which men are wont to take when labouring under unusual nervous excitement.

Nearly opposite the cross-road to Myrtle Lodge, there was a swinggate, from which ran a winding public footpath through Caversham park. This park terminated in a stile not far from the entrance to the village, and as it cut off a considerable elbow of the road, Miles, who had missed it on his way out to the Lodge, now determined to avail himself of it, it being a matter of infinite consequence to him to reach the public-house, and secure supper and a bed, before they should shut up for the night. As he maintained a smart pace, and was no longer incommoded by the heat, the night being cool and the wind fresh, he made very satisfactory progress, and had already got as far as the park preserves, which the footpath skirted, descending thence into a gradual bushy hollow, when he was startled by the sound of whispers at no great distance from him, which was almost immediately followed by the discharge of a gun. Now, it happened that the pacific Waddilove had the same invincible horror of fire-arms that King James had of a drawn sword; he could not even look a gun in the face without a shudder; judge, then, of his consternation when he heard this sudden discharge, together with a rustling among the preserves, as though a gang of poachers were emerging upon the footpath! Overmastered by his apprehensions, and taking for granted that, if he should be seen, he would instantly be shot for a gamekeeper, and not have the mistake cleared up till he lay stretched like a cock partridge on the ground, with a score or so of small shot buried in his epigastrium, he abruptly quitted the path, and plunging down into the thick copse near it, doubled himself up, hedge-hog fashion, heedless of the brambles and stinging-nettles which gave him any thing but a gracious reception.

The noise he made, as he went crashing into the heart of the thicket, caught the quick ears of the poachers, who, darting out from the preserves on the other side of the footpath, stood looking anxiously about them, and whispering to each other, as though doubtful whether the sound of their gun had started a spy or a hare. Intense was Miles's agitation while he heard these scamps, among other equally significant threats, announce their intention, when once they got a glimpse of him, to "do for him""riddle him like a cullender"

" bring him down at a long shot" "pitch him into the Thames, with a big stone tied about his neck," &c.; and he inwardly vowed that, should he but escape the perils of this memorable night, he would never again venture so far from home-not even in a coach, much less the accursed town-tub-were he to be bribed by the daintiest dinner that epicure ever sat down to. No, he would cut the acquaintance of every one who lived more than a hundred yards from Reading. While he was thus settling the course of conduct he would adopt, in the event of his getting safely out of his present ticklish scrape, the moon became suddenly overcast; whereupon the poachers, eager to avail themselves of the favouring gloom to pursue their vocation in the preserves, and satisfied by this time that the noise they had heard was merely occasioned by the starting of a hare, withdrew again to the spot which they had so lately quitted.

Miles waited till they had all left the footpath, and were lost to sight in the leafy and tangled preserves, and then stealing cautiously back into the road, like a shy old badger out of his hole, he stood listening for a few seconds, after which he flew at his utmost speed along the road, with outstretched neck, and both hands clapped instinctively upon his hind quarters, so as to act as a sort of protecting shield in case he should chance to receive an ignominious shot in the rear. Away, away he flew, insensible alike to fatigue and hunger, so completely had fear got the better of every other sensation. As the wind rose and fell, sighing among the pines and beeches, and whirling the dead leaves by hundreds into the air, he fancied he heard the quick tramp of footsteps behind him; mistook the hooting of the owl for the yells of his pursuers;

and, in the spectral moving shadows flung by the stirred trees across his path, beheld the signs of a lurking enemy.

It must have been a rare treat to a lover of the grotesque, to have seen this adipose fugitive scouring along in a steeple-chase style, and taking big bouncing leaps like a ram, while the broad flaps of his black coat streamed in the wind, and his mouth stood ajar like the shell of a dead oyster. What cares he for distance or difficulty? The trunk of a fallen elm lies across his road; he is over it in a jiffey; and comes down on the other side with all the agility of a dancing-master. Further on, a brawling brooklet threatens to impede his progress; in he plunges, halfway up to his knees, and scrambles out again, refreshed rather than incommoded by his partial bath. Thus, copse after copse, slope after slope, are passed; now he descends into a shady dell; now he winds round the brow of a verdant hill, whence he may catch a fine view of the park that extends to the bank of the Thames, affording shelter to large herds of deer, and magnificently timbered with giantoaks, who have bid defiance to the storms of centuries, and heard the roar of Cromwell's cannon against the walls of Reading Abbey; and now, all danger passed, he halts to rest himself on the stile which, as I have before observed, abuts on the main road, just at the entrance of Caversham.

Waddilove reached the village as the church clock was striking the last chime of midnight. As he passed along the main street, its irregular rows of houses wore a cold, staring, and even ghastly aspect in the imperfect moonlight, and nothing was audible but the rippling of the near Thames against the arches of the bridge, or the occasional growl of some drowsy watch-dog. Under other circumstances, Miles's imagination would have been forcibly impressed by the dead solitude of this hushed hamlet through which he moved, the only living being, startling the echoes of night by his tread; but his late adventures had, for the time being, given him quite a surfeit of romance.

On coming to the public-house, he found, as might have been anticipated, that it was shut up, and that not the slightest glimmer of a light was to be seen in any of the rooms. Determin