the farmer! Your health, parson! We haven't had our sport yet.
We're going to have some first-rate sport. Oh, well! we haven't
much show of birds. We shot for pleasure, and returned them to the
proprietors. You're fond of game, parson! Ripton is a dead shot in
what Cousin Austin calls the Kingdom of 'would-have-done' and
'might-have-been.' Up went the birds, and cries Rip, 'I've forgotten to
load!' Oh, ho!--Rip! some more claret.--Do just leave that nose of yours
alone.--Your health, Ripton Thompson! The birds hadn't the decency
to wait for him, and so, parson, it's their fault, and not Rip's, you
haven't a dozen brace at your feet. What have you been doing at home,
Cousin Rady?"

"Playing Hamlet, in the absence of the Prince of Denmark. The day
without you, my dear boy, must be dull, you know."

"'He speaks: can I trust what he says is sincere?
There's an edge to his smile that cuts much like a sneer.'

"Sandoe's poems! You know the couplet, Mr. Rady. Why shouldn't I quote
Sandoe? You know you like him, Rady. But, if you've missed me, I'm
sorry. Rip and I have had a beautiful day. We've made new acquaintances.
We've seen the world. I'm the monkey that has seen the world, and I'm
going to tell you all about it. First, there's a gentleman who takes a
rifle for a fowling-piece. Next, there's a farmer who warns everybody,
gentleman and beggar, off his premises. Next, there's a tinker and a
ploughman, who think that God is always fighting with the devil which
shall command the kingdoms of the earth. The tinker's for God, and the
ploughman"--

"I'll drink your health, Ricky," said Adrian, interrupting.

"Oh, I forgot, parson;--I mean no harm, Adrian. I'm only telling what
I've heard."

"No harm, my dear boy," returned Adrian. "I'm perfectly aware that
Zoroaster is not dead. You have been listening to a common creed. Drink
the Fire-worshippers, if you will."

"Here's to Zoroaster, then!" cried Richard. "I say, Rippy! we'll drink
the Fire-worshippers to-night won't we?"

A fearful conspiratorial frown, that would not have disgraced Guido
Fawkes, was darted back from the plastic features of Master Ripton.

Richard gave his lungs loud play.

"Why, what did you say about Blaizes, Rippy? Didn't you say it was fun?"

Another hideous and silencing frown was Ripton's answer. Adrian matched
the innocent youths, and knew that there was talking under the table.
"See," thought he, "this boy has tasted his first scraggy