her thought "This is some present he gave his cousins in my name,
in the time of his prosperity--nay, of his extravagance and folly. How
quickly his wealth has passed away! But he ever had a kind heart for the
poor Mountain; and we must not forget him in his need. It behoves us to
be more than ever careful of our own expenses, my good people!" And so,
I dare say, they warmed themselves by one log, and ate of one dish, and
worked by one candle. And the widow's servants, whom the good soul began
to pinch more and more I fear, lied, stole, and cheated more and more:
and what was saved in one way, was stole in another.

One afternoon, Mr. Harry sate in his Bond Street lodgings, arrayed in
his dressing-gown, sipping his chocolate, surrounded by luxury, encased
in satin, and yet enveloped in care. A few weeks previously when the
luck was with him, and he was scattering his benefactions to and fro,
he had royally told Parson Sampson to get together a list of his debts
which he, Mr. Warrington, would pay. Accordingly Sampson had gone to
work, and had got together a list, not of all his debts--no man ever
does set down all,--but such a catalogue as he thought sufficient to
bring in to Mr. Warrington, at whose breakfast-table the divine had
humbly waited until his honour should choose to attend it.

Harry appeared at length, very pale and languid, in curl-papers, and
scarce any appetite for his breakfast; and the chaplain, fumbling with
his schedule in his pocket, humbly asked if his patron had had a bad
night? He had been brought home from White's by two chairmen at five
o'clock in the morning; had caught a confounded cold, for one of the
windows of the chair would not shut, and the rain and snow came in,
finally, was in such a bad humour, that all poor Sampson's quirks and
jokes could scarcely extort a smile from him.

At last, to be sure, Mr. Warrington burst into a loud laugh. It was when
the poor chaplain, after a sufficient discussion of muffins, eggs, tea,
the news, the theatres, and so forth, pulled a paper out of his pocket
and in a piteous tone said, "Here is that schedule of debts which your
honour asked for--two hundred and forty-three pounds--every shilling I
owe in the world, thank Heaven!--that is--ahem!--every shilling of which
the payment will in the least inconvenience me--and I need not tell my
dearest patron that I shall consider him my saviour and benefactor!"

It was then that Harry, taking the paper and e