idays, sir."

PARSON.--"Your wife has cut for you, Mr. Hazeldean. I don't think it
was quite fair; and my partner has turned up a deuce,--deuce of hearts.
Please to come and play, if you mean to play."

The squire returns to the table, and in a few minutes the game is
decided by a dexterous finesse of the captain against the Hazeldeans.
The clock strikes ten; the servants enter with a tray; the squire counts
up his own and his wife's losings; and the captain and parson divide
sixteen shillings between them.

SQUIRE.--"There, Parson, I hope you'll be in a better humour. You win
enough out of us to set up a coach-and-four."

"Tut!" muttered the parson; "at the end of the year, I'm not a penny the
richer for it all."

And, indeed, monstrous as that assertion seemed, it was perfectly true,
for the parson portioned out his gains into three divisions. One-third
he gave to Mrs. Dale, for her own special pocket-money; what became of
the second third he never owned even to his better half,--but certain
it was, that every time the parson won seven-and-sixpence, half-a-crown,
which nobody could account for, found its way to the poor-box; while the
remaining third, the parson, it is true, openly and avowedly retained;
but I have no manner of doubt that, at the year's end, it got to the
poor quite as safely as if it had been put into the box.

The party had now gathered round the tray, and were helping themselves
to wine and water, or wine without water,--except Frank, who still
remained poring over the map in the County History, with his head
leaning on his hands, and his fingers plunged in his hair.

"Frank," said Mrs. Hazeldean, "I never saw you so studious before."

Frank started up and coloured, as if ashamed of being accused of too
much study in anything.

SQUIRE (with a little embarrassment in his voice).--"Pray, Frank, what
do you know of Randal Leslie?"

"Why, sir, he is at Eton."

"What sort of a boy is he?" asked Mrs. Hazeldean.

Frank hesitated, as if reflecting, and then answered, "They say he is
the cleverest boy in the school. But then he saps."

"In other words," said Mr. Dale, with proper parsonic gravity, "he
understands that he was sent to school to learn his lessons, and he
learns them. You call that sapping? call it doing his duty. But pray,
who and what is this Randal Leslie, that you look so discomposed,
Squire?"

"Who and what is he?" repeated the squire, in a low growl. "Why, you
know Mr. A