stretch of endurance; "and so I'm not fast

enough, eh?"

"No," replied little Ned.

"Grandad

says," continued he, "that when a hound wants the whip he wants the rope, and I'm sure you want the whip."

"But not the rope, I trust," rejoined the butler, renewing his laugh.

"I don't know anything about that," returned the boy. "Ask grandad."

"You're a pert-tongued chip," said the squire, in a state of ecstasy with his hopeful descendant, and ready to smother him with kisses.

"What a sportsman he'll make, squire!" ejaculated Robert, turning his eyes upwards. "I think I see him now," continued he, "a perfect cherub in top-boots."

"That will be a proud day for me, to see him mounted in pink across the pig-skin," observed the squire reflectively.

"Pray heaven you may live to see it," replied the butler; "and from your heartiness, sir, there seems to be not much doubt about it."

"I hope not," rejoined his master, "I hope not, Robert."

"Master Charles," said the steward, after desired me to deliver this

a brief pause,

note to you, sir."

"From the vicar, I see," replied the squire, unfolding the letter and reading its contents. "My dear Sir,

"It is with inexpressible joy that I am able to inform you our circle to-day will be increased with the presence of my dear Grace and her best-beloved and exemplary husband. This morning's post brought me these grateful tidings, and to all at Merton Park and Woodland Rookery I have announced them at the same time, although there was an expressed wish for a surprise to be occasioned by an unannounced appear

VOL. III.

M

ance. Pleasure, however, should, in my estimation, seldom be allowed to go unheralded, as often the shock, when unexpected, is far from being desirable; and I thought aunt Deborah's nerves might be greatly discomposed without a preparation for so exciting an event.

"Let me see you an hour before dinner. "Yours faithfully,

"JOHN WELLS."

"God be praised!" exclaimed the squire, in a fervent tone. "A merry party we shall be to-night, and form around a good hearty ENGLISH FIRESIDE."

CHAPTER XV.

"When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl."

NOT a leaf fluttered on bough or twig. It was the depth of winter. A thin crust of snow covered the ground, above which, here and there, might be seen blades of grass peeping. Berries, red as fresh-let blood, covered the thorn, and the crystal frost glittered and glistened, like an endless succession of fairy lights. Birds, cramped and nipped by the piercing cold, stood perched with ruffled plumage, and chirped their misery. in doleful cadence. The black-eyed robin

pecked at the hospitable window, and, bold from necessity, stood fearlessly by for the crums of comfort.

In a deep valley, flanked by two high and precipitate hills, Bamfield Carew's camp was pitched. In a solid square the caravans were, as usual, drawn together, and bundles of straw and faggots were piled and heaped in every gap and corner wherein the cutting wind might find entrance. The dogs and the horses, thus protected in the inclosure, were snug and comfortably warm, and all looked to have been directed by one who felt for others as well as for himself.

Singly and in groups the whole tribe, save the king, was assembled in the square, and from the downcast looks in each bronzed face there seemed to be a common cause of unhappiness. Not a voice was heard. Even the children spoke in whispers, and glanced at each other sorrowfully.

Crouched before the steps leading to Carew's