coppice happening to shut with a loud bang just at that moment, he jumped two yards backwards at a single bound, and could not believe, until he had felt himself all over, and stamped upon the ground, that he was neither blown up into the air nor visited by any grievous wound, from steel, ball, or bullet.

After much bodily exertion and anxiety of spirit, and in a violent perspiration arising from both those causes, he at length reached the steps that led up to the entrance of the house, mounted them with infinite relief of heart, solaced himself with a modicum of sugar from his waistcoat pocket, drew in a long breath, which he suddenly expelled with a loud sonorous "Hem!" and ejaculated" Soh! a pretty beginning of rural ease and tranquillity—a comfortable foretaste of the pleasures of territorial possession! Cheated by a lying coachman, and obliged to carry my bag three miles in the heat and dust; told when I civilly inquire the way, to follow my own long nose; suspected of being a tallow-chandler, or a smuggling pedlar; insulted as a poacher by my own gamekeeper;

very near having the calf of my leg snapped off by his mastiff; and finally, groping the way to my own house like a blind beggar, in momentary fear of being caught in my own trap, or blown up with my own gunpowder! Wheugh! these things never happen in the City."

In the intensity of his scrutiny after concealed snares, he had not ventured to lift up his eyes to look a second time at his house, until he found himself upon its threshold; and the deep shades of evening now preventing him from seeing any object distinctly, he deferred the gratification of his curiosity till the next morning, raised his hand to the bell, and pulled it with a master's pull.

Mrs. Holmes, who had been left in custody of the house, was one of those discreet personages who make it a point to be civil to every body, until they have ascertained that it is quite safe to be otherwise, and was moreover a connoisseur in rings and knocks, which she considered as pieces of handwriting, whereby most people betrayed their station and the purposes of their visit. Interpreting the energetical ring

she had just heard, to be that of a person who felt himself authorised to be decisive, and having also received some vague intimation of her new master's odd appearance, she dropped a low curtsey as she met him in the hall, exclaiming in a soft voice, and with a gracious smile,— "Mr. Goldingham, I presume; you are welcome, Sir, to the Place, and I wish you health and happiness to enjoy your new purchase. Allow me to take your bag, Sir-" And then suddenly rising to a sharp key, she called aloud "Why, Timothy! Timothy! always out of the way! lights in the parlour directly, here's the new master arrived!" Ushering him into this apartment she wheeled a large arm chair for his reception, brought him a pair of slippers, and inquiring in a tone of gentle condolence whether he had supped upon the road, assured him there were viands in the house which could be got ready in a few minutes-added that his bed had been kept carefully aired, and that she had provided a little tea in the house, though probably his honour did not like any such newfangled slops.

"Thank ye, thank ye, Mrs. Holmes," said Isaac, with more complacency than he had felt in the whole course of the day, "that's all very right and proper; you seem to have your wits about you, and to be a woman of business, which is what I like. None of your tea, no new-fangled slops for me; but if you can let me have a pipe, and some mull'd lamb's-wool, I shall be glad of them as soon as you please." These, with the addition of some saffron cakes, which she informed him were of her own making, being presently placed before him by the bustling and obsequious Mrs. Holmes, he dispatched his frugal meal, smoked a pipe, and fatigued with the exertions of the day, retired shortly after to bed, and fell fast asleep in that ancient mansion which had never before received so plebeian a proprietor.

CHAPTER III.

Mercury.-Bon Ton! What's that, Madam, pray define it?

Mrs. Modish.-Oh! Sir, excuse me: it is one of the privileges of the Bon Ton never to define or be defined. It is the child and the parent of jargon. It is- -I can never tell you what it is."

DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD.

On the following morning Goldingham arose at an early hour, completely recovered from the fatigues of his journey, as well as from the irritation occasioned by the misadventures attendant upon his arrival, and not a little anxious to sally forth and inspect his estate. Having signified to Mrs. Holmes his wish to be accompanied in his excursion by some competent person as a guide, she immediately raised her voice from the subdued and respectful tone in which she habitually spoke to her superiors, to