out of this
pocket-book."

"I dare say, sir, I dare say, sir. One can't believe a word his lordship
says, sir," says Mr. Sampson; "but I am thinking of execution in this
house, and ruin upon these poor folks to-morrow."

"That need not happen," says Mr. Warrington. "Here are eighty guineas,
Sampson. As far as they go, God help you! 'Tis all I have to give you.
I wish to my heart I could give more as I promised; but you did not come
at the right time, and I am a poor devil now until I get my remittances
from Virginia."

The chaplain gave a wild look of surprise, and turned quite white. He
flung himself down on his knees and seized Harry's hand.

"Great powers, sir!" says he, "are you a guardian angel that Heaven hath
sent me? You quarrelled with my tears this morning, Mr. Warrington. I
can't help them now. They burst, sir, from a grateful heart. A rock of
stone would pour them forth, sir, before such goodness as yours! May
Heaven eternally bless you, and give you prosperity! May my unworthy
prayers be heard in your behalf, my friend, my best benefactor! May----"

"Nay, nay! get up, friend--get up, Sampson!" says Harry, whom the
chaplain's adulation and fine phrases rather annoyed.

"I am glad to have been able to do you a service--sincerely glad.
There--there! Don't be on your knees to me!"

"To Heaven who sent you to me, sir!" cries the chaplain. Mrs. Weston!
Mrs. Weston!"

"What is it, sir?" says the landlady, instantly, who, indeed, had been
at the door the whole time. "We are saved, Mrs. Weston! We are saved!"
cries the chaplain. "Kneel, kneel, woman, and thank our benefactor!
Raise your innocent voices, children, and bless him!" A universal
whimper arose round Harry, which the chaplain led off, whilst the
young Virginian stood, simpering and well pleased, in the midst of this
congregation. They would worship, do what he might. One of the children,
not understanding the kneeling order, and standing up, the mother
fetched her a slap on the ear, crying, "Drat it, Jane, kneel down, and
bless the gentleman, I tell 'ee!"... We leave them performing this sweet
benedictory service. Mr. Harry walks off from Long Acre, forgetting
almost the griefs of the former four or five days, and tingling with the
consciousness of having done a good action.

The young woman with whom Gumbo had been conversing on that evening
when Harry drove up from White's to his lodging, was Mrs. Molly, from
Oakhurst, the attendant of the l