ary on Saturdays and Sundays." It happened to be
Saturday, and the table was covered for the purpose.

"What if we should go in and dine, sir?" said the young gentleman.
Harley made no objection, and the stranger showed him the way into the
parlour.

Over against the fire-place was seated a man of a grave aspect, who wore
a pretty large wig, which had once been white, but was now of a brownish
yellow; his coat was a modest coloured drab; and two jack-boots
concealed in part the well-mended knees of an old pair of buckskin
breeches. Next him sat another man, with a tankard in his hand and a
quid of tobacco in his cheek, whose dress was something smarter.

The door was soon opened for the admission of dinner. "I don't know how
it is with you, gentlemen," said Harley's new acquaintance, "but I am
afraid I shall not be able to get down a morsel at this horrid
mechanical hour of dining." He sat down, however, and did not show any
want of appetite by his eating. He took upon him the carving of the
meat, and criticised the goodness of the pudding, and when the
tablecloth was removed proposed calling for some punch, which was
readily agreed to.

While the punch lasted the conversation was wholly engrossed by this
young gentleman, who told a great many "immensely comical stories" and
"confounded smart things," as he termed them. At last the man in the
jack-boots, who turned out to be a grazier, pulling out a watch of very
unusual size, said that he had an appointment. And the young gentleman
discovered that he was already late for an appointment.

When the grazier and he were gone, Harley turned to the remaining
personage, and asked him if he knew that young gentleman. "A gentleman!"
said he. "I knew him, some years ago, in the quality of a footman. But
some of the great folks to whom he has been serviceable had him made a
ganger. And he has the assurance to pretend an acquaintance with men of
quality. The impudent dog! With a few shillings in his pocket, he will
talk three times as much as my friend Mundy, the grazier there, who is
worth nine thousand if he's worth a farthing. But I know the rascal, and
despise him as he deserves!"

Harley began to despise him, too, but he corrected himself by reflecting
that he was perhaps as well entertained, and instructed, too, by this
same ganger, as he should have been by such a man of fashion as he had
thought proper to personate.

_III.--Harley's Success with the Baronet_