gin-and-water would not hurt him after
his journey; and accordingly mixed him a tumbler. "Thee doan't smoke, I
spoase?" he said; to which Mrs. Bumpkin added that she "spoased he wur
too young like."

"I'll try," answered the courageous youth, nothing daunted by his
youngness.

"So thee shall--dang if thee shan't," rejoined Mr. Bumpkin; and produced
a long churchwarden pipe, and a big leaden jar of tobacco of a very dark
character, called "shag."

Horatio filled his pipe, and puffed away as if he had been a veteran
smoker; cloud after cloud came forth, and when Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin and
Joe looked, expecting that the boy should be ill, there was not the least
sign; so Joe observed with great sagacity:

"Look at that now, maister; I bleeve he've smoked afoore."

"Have ur, sir?" asked Mr. Bumpkin.

"A little," said Horatio.

"Why, I never smoked afoore I wur turned twenty," said the farmer.

"I believe the right time now is fourteen," observed the youth; "it used
to be twenty, I have heard father say; but everything has been altered by
the Judicature Act."

"Look at that air," said Joe, "he've eeard father say. You knows a thing
or two, I'll warrant, Mr. --."

Here Joe was baffled, and coming so abruptly to an end of his address,
Mr. Bumpkin took the matter up, and asked, if he might make so bold, what
the youth's name might be.

"Horatio Snigger," answered that gentleman.

"When will this ere case be on, think'ee, sir?" inquired Mr. Bumpkin.

"We expect it to be in the paper every day now," said the youth; "they've
tried to dodge us a good deal, but they can't dodge us much longer--we're
a little too downy for em."

"It have been a mighty long time about, surely," said Mr. Bumpkin.

"O, that's nothing," said Horatio; "time's nothing in Law! Why, a suit
to administer a Will sometimes takes 'ears; and Bankruptcy, O my eye,
ain't there dodging about that, and jockeying too, eh! Crikey!"

Mr. Bumpkin here winked at his wife, as much as to say, "Now you hold
your tongue, and see me dror un out. I'll have un."

"Will ee tak a little more gin-and-water, sir?"

"No, thankee," said the youth.

"A little more won't hurt ee--it'll do thee good." And again he filled
the tumbler; while the pale boy refilled his pipe.

"Now, who's my counsellor gwine to be?" asked the farmer.

"Oh," said Horatio, "a regular cruncher--Mr. Catapult."

"He be a cruncher, be he?"

"I believe you; he turned a man inside ou