soundly with a three-foot Crowther."

"That must have been delightful to your feelings."

"Not very."

"Why not? revenge is sweet."

"So it is; but as the Cornet forgot to order him to take me off, I got the
worst of the drubbing. I was dreadfully cut about. Two buttons fearfully
lacerated--nothing but the shanks left."

"How did it end?"

"The valet mentioned something about wages and assault warrants, so I was
given to him to make the matter up. Between you and I, the Cornet was very
hard up."

"Indeed!"

"Certain of it. You remember the French-grey trousers we used to walk out
with--those he strapped so tight over the remarkably chatty and pleasant
French-polished boots whose broken English we used to admire so much?"

"Of course I do; they were the most charming greys I ever met. They beat
the plaids into fits; and the plaids were far from ungentlemanly, only
they would always talk with a sham Scotch accent, and quote the 'Cotter's
Saturday Night.'"

"Certainly that was a drawback. But to return to our friends, and the
Cornet's friends, they must have been bad, for those very greys were
seated."

"Impossible!"

"Fact, I assure you. My tails were pinned over the patch for three weeks."

"How did they bear it?"

"Shockingly. A general break up of the constitution--went all to pieces.
First, decay appeared in the brace buttons; then the straps got out of
order. They did say it was owing to the heels of the French-polished boots
going down on one side, but the boots would never admit it."

"How did you get here?"

"I came from the Bench for eggs and bacon for the Cornet and his Valet's
breakfast! What brought you?"

"The Count's landlady, for a week's rent."

"What did you fetch?"

"A guinea!"

"Bless me, you must have worn well."

"No; hold your tongue--I think I shall die with laughing,--ha! ha!--When
they took me in, I returned the compliment. I've been--"

"What?"

"Cuffed and collared!"

"Ha! ha! ha! ha!" shouted both coats; and "Ha! ha!" shouted I; "And I'll
teach you to 'ha! ha!' and neglect your business" shouted the Governor;
and the reality of a stunning box on the ear dispelled the illusion of my
"Day-dream at my Uncle's."

FUSBOS.

* * * * *

"BLOW GENTLE BREEZE."

The Reverend Henry _Snow_, M.A., has been inducted by the Bishop of
Gloucester, to the Vicarage of Sherborne cum _Windrush_.

From Glo'ster _see_, a _windrush_ came, and l