where no one would have expected to have found any."

"Not in the least," replied Mr. Dalben; "Dr. Matthews was a friend of long standing of Mr. Clayton, senior, and Mr. Clayton was intimate with the Applebys, and thus all this was brought about."

This conversation was interrupted by the stopping of the post-boy before a neat quiet inn, at the entrance of a small town.

"Breakfast!" exclaimed little George, who had been reposing in a corner ever since he had left Oxford, finishing his exclamation with an audible yawn. Whilst Henry was helping Mr. Dalben down, Maurice, who had jumped off the carriage the instant the postilion had stopped, was standing with his eyes and mouth open, looking all around him, and up and down, and as far as he could stretch his neck into the stable-yard.

66

Maurice," said Henry, as he stepped by him, "what are you about? follow me into the parlour." And as he passed the bar he ordered some cold meat to be added to the usual articles served up for breakfast, for himself, George, and Maurice-with a few thin slices of dry toast and an egg, lightly boiled for Mr. Dalben, being the usual breakfast of the old gentleman; and, indeed, the only one he could take.

This business being put in train, Henry found his uncle and George in the parlour, where a huge fire blazed in a corner chimney.

Maurice was always directed to breakfast at a side-table on such occasions as these; but as he

did not appear immediately, George went out to call him, and presently brought him in by the arm, laughing heartily, and saying "His brains are jumbled away-his wits are clean gone."

"Not a bit of it," said Maurice, looking threateningly at George; "but, sir, Master Milner, I'se been here afore. I knows the place as well as I do our house at home. I knew it the moment I saw it, and I will tell you by what tokens: first and foremost, the wide gateway, and the chambers above, and the doors on each side like, as you comes in, and the stableyard beyond, and the duck-pond, and the litter lying about, and the glass bow that sticks out just anent the door as we comes in to this here parlour. I knows the place as well as I do Mrs. Kitty's jaw."

66

Peace, Maurice," said Henry ; impertinent."

"don't be

"And so I would not, and I ask pardon, sir, for saying that last word, only he-(and he pointed to George)—he stands there sniggering so, and that be so provoking, when I knows it is So. It was when we was coming from Liverpool-poor father and me."

"From Liverpool," said Henry; "to what place? Where did you go from Liverpool ?"

"Why, down into Worcestershire, to be sure, Master," replied the boy; "we came straight forward, right an end down to Worcester, and so then farmer Smith hired father to mow, and so then father 'greed with him."

"Well! well!" said Henry, struck with the flushed and singular appearance of the boy, for which he would have been better able to have

accounted had he known that he had been persuaded to take a glass of gin to warm himself, before he left Oxford, and again at a small alehouse on the way, where the postilion had stopped for a few minutes. In the mean time George had ensconced himself behind Mr. Dalben's chair, and was cramming his pocket-handkerchief into his mouth to prevent such manifestations of merriment as might, he feared, disturb the nerves of his aged friend, not considering that the tremulous motion which his inward and suppressed convulsions communicated from his own frame to that of Mr. Dalben's chair, was far more distressing than the loudest peals of merriment would have been. "Do you mean to say," asked Henry, you passed through this town between Liverpool and Worcester ?"

"that

"I did, sir," repeated Maurice; "I knows the place as well as I do your face; and father was along and a man they call Nanty O'Looney, and grandmother was with us, and we was coming to Worcester, and we came here, and sat on the bench at the door, and had bread-andcheese and a drop, and then I dare say Nanty and grandmother went on to town."

"You have told me often, Maurice, that your grandmother was dead," said Henry.

"But a'ant every man two grannies ?" asked Maurice.

"And those two have four elbows between them," exclaimed George.

Maurice again shook his head portentously at George, and the red glare of anger brightened on his cheek.

"I do not know what to make of you, Maurice," said Henry; "do you not know, foolish boy, that this house is on the road between London and Oxford, and that the one you pretend to remember is situated, if it exist anywhere else but in your brain, between Liverpool and Worcester ?"

"And be'ant that all the same, sir ?" replied Maurice : 66 so Jack told me as we was coming along; for I axed him about itsays I, Is Liverpool anywhere near? and he answered, Yes, close by-and he showed me a church-steeple and a lot of houses over on the right from where we was, and he said, There it is there, that's a town; do you see it? And why mayn't it be Liverpool as well as another?" Jack!" said Henry; "where did you pick the name of the post-boy?"

up

"Oh! I axed him,” replied Maurice; " and

so he told me.”

"Well," resumed Henry; "there is quite enough of all this. It is a pity you are not in a rank of life to make the grand tour-you seem to profit so largely by your travels; but go to your side-table, and remain there quietly till your services are wanted."

"You be'ant angry with me, be you, Mister Henry?" replied the boy; "only I was so dumbfounded like when I found out where I was, not looking for no such thing."

"No, no,” replied Henry; "I am not angry -only I beg when you chance to make another discovery tell it me in private, and do not break out again in this rough way before your master."

"I won't, sir-sure I won't another time," returned the boy; "but I was so flustrated when I saw the very place again that I hardly knew what I did."

The waiter had now set the breakfast, George Beresford had recovered his composure and come out of his corner, much to the relief of Mr. Dalben, and the master of the ceremonies, to wit, Henry, had already cut plentiful portions of bread and meat for three persons, when Mr. Dalben declared his egg not to be of dubious character only, but actually and bona fide as utterly abominable as the mixture compounded by Wellings and Clayton on the memorable occasion of the salt plot. Of course this evil was not irreparable; not that the historian means to assert that it lay within the line of physical possibility to render a bad egg fresh again, but that it was very possible to substitute a good egg in the place of that which had proved so bad.

The bell therefore was rung by Maurice, by the direction of Henry; on which the waiter speedily appeared with that brisk obsequiousness for which gentlemen of this description are remarked above most others.

"This egg," said Henry," is an extremely bad one."

"I am sorry, very sorry, sir," said the waiter, bowing. "Would you choose another, sir ?"

"No," said Maurice, who was standing up by the bell.

"Peace, Maurice," said Henry.

"What, another bad egg, master?" returned