ther it was the Army or the
Church; and, just as Mr. Bumpkin looked out of the parlour window, off
went his "head witness," swaggering along in imitation of the Sergeant,
with the colours streaming from his hat as though any honest employment
was better than hanging about London for a case to "come on."

CHAPTER XXVII.

A letter from home.

"I wonder," said Mrs. Oldtimes, "who this letter be for; it have been
'ere now nigh upon a week, and I'm tired o' seein' it."

Miss Prettyface took the letter in her hand and began, as best she could,
for the twentieth time to endeavour to decipher the address. It was very
much blotted and besmeared, and presented a very remarkable specimen of
caligraphy. The most legible word on it seemed "Gouse."

"There's nobody here of that name," said the young lady. "Do you know
anybody, Mr. Bumpkin, of the name of Gouse?"

"Devil a bit," said he, taking the letter in his hands, and turning it
over as if it had been a skittle-ball.

"The postman said it belonged here," said Mrs. Oldtimes, "but I can't
make un out."

"I can't read the postmark," said Miss Prettyface.

Mr. Bumpkin put on a large pair of glasses and examined the envelope with
great care.

"I think you've got un upside down," said Mrs. Oldtimes.

"Ah! so ur be," replied the farmer, turning it over several times.
"Why," he continued, "here be a _b_--and a _u_, beant it? See if that
beant a _u_, Miss, your eyes be better un mine; they be younger."

"O yes, that's a _u_," said Miss Prettyface, "and an _m_."

"And that spell _bum_."

"But stop," said Miss Prettyface, "here's a _p_."

"That's _bump_," said Mrs. Oldtimes; "we shall get at something
presently."

"Why," exclaimed Bumpkin, "I be danged if I doant think it be my old
'ooman's writin': but I beant sure. That be the way ur twists the tail
of ur _y_'s and _g_'s, I'll swear; and lookee 'ere, beant this _k i n_?"

"I think it is," said the maid.

"Ah, then, thee med be sure that be Bumpkin, and the letter be for I."

"Yes," said the young lady, "and that other word which looks more like
Grouse is meant for Goose, the sign of the house."

"Sure be un," exclaimed Mr. Bumpkin, "and Nancy ha put Bumpkin and Goose
all in one line, when ur ought to ha made two lines ov un. Now look at
that, that letter might ha been partickler."

"So it may be as it is," said Mrs. Oldtimes; "it's from Mrs. Bumpkin, no
doubt. Aren't you going to open it?"

"I th