consignment of large amount to the United States, where it
arrived only to be welcomed by what was called the American crash.

Turning from the high road, a walk of half a mile brought them to a
little world of villas; varying in style and size, but all pretty, and
each in its garden. "And this is my home," said Thornberry, opening the
wicket, "and here is my mistress and the young folks"--pointing to
a pretty woman, but with an expression of no inconsiderable
self-confidence, and with several children clinging to her dress and
hiding their faces at the unexpected sight of a stranger. "My eldest is
a boy, but he is at school," said Thornberry. "I have named him, after
one of the greatest men that ever lived, John Hampden."

"He was a landed proprietor," observed Endymion rather drily; "and a
considerable one."

"I have brought an old friend to take cheer with us," continued
Thornberry; "one whom I knew before any here present; so show your
faces, little people;" and he caught up one of the children, a fair
child like its mother, long-haired and blushing like a Worcestershire
orchard before harvest time. "Tell the gentleman what you are."

"A free-trader," murmured the infant.

Within the house were several shelves of books well selected, and the
walls were adorned with capital prints of famous works of art. "They
are chiefly what are called books of reference," said Thornberry, as
Endymion was noticing his volumes; "but I have not much room, and, to
tell you the truth, they are not merely books of reference to me--I like
reading encyclopaedia. The 'Dictionary of Dates' is a favourite book of
mine. The mind sometimes wants tone, and then I read Milton. He is the
only poet I read--he is complete, and is enough. I have got his prose
works too. Milton was the greatest of Englishmen."

The repast was simple, but plenteous, and nothing could be neater than
the manner in which it was served.

"We are teetotallers," said Thornberry; "but we can give you a good cup
of coffee."

"I am a teetotaller too at this time of the day," said Endymion; "but
a good cup of coffee is, they say, the most delicious and the rarest
beverage in the world."

"Well," continued Thornberry; "it is a long time since we met, Mr.
Ferrars--ten years. I used to think that in ten years one might do
anything; and a year ago, I really thought I had done it; but the
accursed laws of this blessed country, as it calls itself, have nearly
broken me, as