that Master Potts came under his notice at Lancaster, and the little attorney's shrewdness gained him an excellent client in the owner of Read. Roger Nowell was a widower; but his son, who resided with him, was married, and had a family, so that the hall was fully occupied.

Roger Nowell was turned sixty, but he was still in the full vigour of mind and body, his temperate and active habits keeping him healthy; he was of a spare muscular frame, somewhat bent in the shoulders, and had very sharp features, keen grey eyes, a close mouth, and prominent chin. His hair was white as silver, but his eyebrows were still black and bushy. Seeing the party approach, the lord of the mansion came forth to meet them, and begged them to dismount for a moment and refresh themselves. Richard excused himself, but Nicholas sprang from his saddle, and Potts, though somewhat more slowly, imitated his example. An open door admitted them to the entrance-hall, where a repast was spread, of which the host pressed his guests to partake, but Nicholas declined on the score of having just breakfasted; notwithstanding which he was easily prevailed upon to take a cup of ale. Leaving him to discuss it, Nowell led the attorney to a well-furnished library, where he usually transacted his magisterial business, and held a few minutes' private conference with him, after which they returned to Nicholas, and by this time the magistrate's own horse being brought round, the party mounted once more. The attorney regretted abandoning his seat, for Flint indulged him with another exhibition somewhat similar to the first, though of less duration, for a vigorous application of the hunting-whip brought the wrong-headed little animal to reason.

Elated by the victory he had obtained over Flint, and anticipating a successful issue to the expedition, Master Potts was in excellent spirits, and found a great deal to admire in the domain of his honoured and singular good client. Though not very genuine, his admiration was deservedly bestowed. The portion of the park they were now traversing was extremely diversified and beautiful, with long sweeping lawns studded with fine trees, among which were many ancient thorns, now in full bloom, and richly scenting the gale. Herds of deer were nipping the short grass, browsing the lower spray of the ashes, or couching amid the ferny hollows.

It was now that Nicholas, who had been all along anxious to try the speed of his horse, proposed to Richard a gallop towards a clump of trees about a mile off, and the young man assenting, away they started. Master Potts started too, for Flint did not like to be left behind, but the mettlesome pony was soon distanced. For some time the two horses kept so closely together, that it was difficult to say which would arrive at the goal first; but, by-and-by, Robin got a-head. Though at first indifferent to the issue of the race, the spirit of emulation soon seized upon Richard, and spurring Merlin, the noble animal sprang forward, and was once again by the side of his opponent.

For a quarter of a mile the ground had been tolerably level, and the sod firm; but they now approached a swamp, and in his eagerness Nicholas did not take sufficient precaution, and got involved in it before he was aware. Richard was more fortunate, having kept on the right, where the ground was hard. Seeing Nicholas struggling out of the marshy soil, he would have stayed for him, but the latter bade him go

on, saying he would soon be up with him, and he made good his words. Shortly after this their course was intercepted by a brook, and both horses having cleared it excellently, they kept well together again for a short time, when they neared a deep dyke which lay between them and the clump of trees. On descrying it Richard pointed out a course to the left, but Nicholas held on, unheeding the caution. Fully expecting to see him break his neck, for the dyke was of formidable width, Richard watched him with apprehension, but the squire gave him a reassuring nod, and went on. Neither horse nor man faltered, though failure would have been certain destruction to both. The wide trench now yawned before them-they were upon its edge, and without trusting himself to measure it with his eye, Nicholas clapped spurs into Robin's sides. The brave horse sprang forward and landed him safely on the opposite bank. Hallooing cheerily, as soon as he could check his courser, the squire wheeled round, and rode back to look at the dyke he had crossed. Its width was terrific, and fairly astounded him. Robin snorted loudly, as if proud of his achievement, and showed some disposition to return, but the squire was quite content with what he had done. The exploit afterwards became a theme of wonder throughout the country, and the spot was long afterwards pointed out as "Squire Nicholas's Leap;" but there was not another horseman found daring enough to repeat the experiment.

Richard had to make a considerable circuit to join his cousin, and while he was going round Nicholas looked out for the others. In the distance he could see Roger Nowell riding leisurely on, followed by Sparshot and a couple of grooms, who had come with their master from the hall, while midway, to his surprise, he perceived Flint galloping without a rider. A closer examination showed the squire what had happened. Like himself, Master Potts had incautiously approached the swamp, and getting entangled in it, was thrown, head foremost, into the slough; out of which he was now floundering, covered from head to foot with inky-coloured slime. As soon as they were aware of the accident the two grooms pushed forward, and one of them galloped after Flint, whom he succeeded at last in catching, while the other, with difficulty preserving his countenance at the woful plight of the attorney, who looked as black as a negro, pointed out a cottage in the hollow, which belonged to one of the keepers, and offered to conduct him thither. Potts gladly assented, and soon gained the little tenement, where he was being washed and rubbed down by a couple of stout wenches when the rest of the party came up. It was impossible to help laughing at him, but Potts took the merriment in good part, and, to show he was not disheartened by the misadventure, as soon as circumstances would permit he mounted the un lucky pony, and the cavalcade set forward again.

MR. PAUL CODLINS AND HIS MOUSTACHE.

IT was ten o'clock at night, and Mr. Paul Codlins had not come home. He had only gone as far as Ravensoake, to look at some land which was to be offered for sale the next morning, and he expressly told his wife that he should be back by the 9.15 train. Any one acquainted with the locality will doubtless remember that the village of Ravensoake is about twenty-one miles from the village of Bubbleton, and Mr. Paul Codlins's house lies N.N.W., about a quarter of a mile from Bubbleton Station, so that he could easily have walked home if he had come by the 9.15 train; and yet ten o'clock had struck, and he had not arrived. His little wife began to be alarmed. The fact was, there had been a slight quarrel between them that very morning. They had only been married four months, and it was their first disagreement. She was almost afraid it was their last. It was the merest trifle to quarrel about, to be sure; but that stupid Paul would persist in growing a moustache, and it made him look quite a fright; and no man had a right to wear a moustache unless he was in the army, and Paul was not even in the Bubbleton troop of yeomanry. But what made Paul so vexed was, that Mrs. Codlins expressed a firm conviction that, excepting military men, no one wore the hair on their upper lip but swindlers and music-sellers, upon which Mr. Paul, without another word, immediately departed to Ravensoake; and the clock was actually now striking eleven, and he had not come back.

She took up a newspaper, and attempted to read, but the first paragraph her eyes fell on was a police case, in which a ruffianly-looking fellow was charged with deserting his wife and ten small children, and leaving them chargeable to the parish. She laid the paper down hastily; it was too horrid to think about. Codlins was certainly not a ruffianlylooking fellow, and they had not ten small children; but could he desert her, and leave her chargeable to the parish of Bubbleton. No! he never would, she was sure. He loved her too well. He never could emigrate without her. If she had only some one to speak to until Paul came home (for she was sure he would come back), perhaps it might keep these unpleasant thoughts from her mind; but no one lived within half a mile, and there was no one but the servants in the house, and one of them was deaf.

Twelve, one, two, and three o'clock struck, and still Mr. Paul was an absent man. She had long had some difficulty in keeping herself awake; and at last, thoroughly exhausted, she sank back in her chair fast asleep, dreaming that Paul, in shaving off his moustache, had let the razor slip, and cut off his head.

The scene changes to the Bubbleton Station, and the history retrogrades fourteen hours. Mr. Paul Codlins is discovered with a ticket in his hand, and a train is supposed to be coming up. It arrives; Mr. Codlins gets into a carriage. There was no one in that compartment, so, putting his legs on the opposite seat, he entered at once into an arithmetical calculation, based upon the probability of becoming the purchaser of the land he was going to look at. The train stopped at two or three stations, and then hearing the guard, as he thought, shout "Ravensoake Station," he got out and gave up his ticket.

Seeing the village on a hill about a mile off, he did not ask any direc

tions as to his route, for he had been told before he left Bubbleton that the Blue Lion was the first house in the village, and the Blue Lion was the establishment at which parties were requested to apply who wished to view the property. So, as it was a beautiful day, he walked slowly forward. Now it so happened that two soldiers stood idling about near the station when Mr. Paul arrived there, and he was almost certain they very nearly saluted him, which so pleased him (for he had a very fair share of vanity), that it may be attributed to this circumstance that Mr. Codlins did not notice the somewhat extraordinary behaviour of two policemen when he alighted; who first of all looked at him as if they were measuring him, in their own minds, for a suit of clothes, and then, when he went out of the station, forming a sort of procession up the lane, consisting of one of them marching about ten yards in advance of Mr. Codlins, and the other perambulating about ten yards in the rear. Mr. Codlins, in profound ignorance of this arrangement, walked slowly along, making scientific cuts at the heads of divers nettles and thistles with his umbrella.

At last the first house in the village was reached, and then Mr. Codlins stopped and the procession stopped, for, instead of the Blue Lion Hotel, it was the station of the Z division of the county constabulary.

"Which is the way for the Blue Lion Inn, policeman?" inquired Mr. Codlins of the gentleman who led the van.

"In here, capting," replied the man with a grin; whereupon Mr. Codlins was indignant, and wished to be informed whether the policeman could answer a civil question or not; and, taking out his note-book, he was proceeding carefully to take down the man's number, when another policeman made his appearance at the door of the station-house, and, honouring Mr. Paul with a most familiar nod, he took hold of him by the

arm.

"Come, captain," he said, "none of your fun; you see you are fairly caught this time;" and then, changing his voice to a more solemn tone, he said, "Captain Legbalem, you are my prisoner; I arrest you on a charge of felony."

I saw the other day a little boy (with as bad an expression of countenance as I ever wish to see) taken in custody for picking a pocket, and when the constable used the same or similar words to him, he received the intimation with as much indifference as if the man had asked him to dinner. It is probable, however, he may have had more practice than Mr. Codlins, for that gentleman received the announcement that he was arrested for felony in anything but a passive manner, and forthwith commenced a most vigorous assault with his umbrella, which was prematurely ended by the policeman tripping him up, slipping the handcuffs on, and pushing him into the station-house all in a minute. But the dust made in performing this manœuvre caused the driver of one of the Blue Lion flys, coming up from the railway station, to shout to the policeman at the door, "Wot's hup?"

"We've been nabbing a swindler," was the reply; "he was very crusty, but we had him in a brace of shakes."

The driver laughed and touched his horse with the whip, when the policeman shouted after him, "I dare say, Bill, you've heard tell of him— it's the great Captain Legbalem."

"Eh! who? stop, driver-who did you say?" shouted the passenger, putting his head out of the window, but, apparently considering he had

done an imprudent action, he pulled it in again instantly, without waiting for a reply.

The driver pulled up, and the policeman walked to the window of the fly and asked whether the gentleman knew anything of Captain Legbalem?

"No-that is, yes-I mean that the scoundrel once swindled me out of forty pounds," was the reply of the stranger.

The policeman said the inspector would be much obliged if the gentleman would walk into the office and identify Captain Legbalem, as none of the force in the county knew the captain.

The stranger hesitated for a moment, and then, getting out of the vehicle, walked boldly into the station-house.

The injured man in handcuffs was vehemently protesting against his detention, and declaring he was not Captain Legbalem, of nowhere in particular, but Mr. Paul Codlins, of Bubbleton Villa, shire.

The policemen (who regarded this as an elaborate bit of acting on the part of Captain Legbalem) were on the broad grin when the inspector entered with the stranger.

66

"So, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Codlins, "you are the inspector, eh?" "Yes, sir," was the reply; "but allow me to caution you thatHang your caution!" roared the chained lion. "Allow me to caution you that you are illegally detaining an English gentleman. This is a land of liberty, and I'm a Briton, sir, and—that is-I'll-in fact

And poor Paul came to a full stop. He was always a rather nervous man, and the choler the insult had at first raised had been subsiding rapidly since the handcuffs had been put on.

The inspector took advantage of this pause and gave him the usual caution, telling him that he was arrested on various charges (which he specified), and also that neither he nor any of his men knew him, but that the -shire police had received that very morning some secret intelligence that Captain Legbalem would arrive at the railway station by one of the morning trains, which information they had telegraphed to Derby, and the message and description of his person were forwarded by the first train to him (the inspector), and that theshire police, having to travel 250 miles, could not arrive before evening.

"What might the description be?" asked Codlins, very humbly.

"White hat, black coat, thick black moustache, stands five feet eleven, and very erect," the inspector read from a paper; and added, "I suppose as they don't give the colour of your trousers that you must have been sitting somehow that they could only take your portrait half-length."

"It is a little like my dress, certainly," remarked Mr. Codlins, alarmed at the description, it was so accurate.

"Can you identify the captain?" the inspector asked, turning to the stranger; who hastily replied that to the best of his knowledge he had never seen the gentleman before,-the Captain Legbalem who had swindled him was somewhat like him to be sure, but he would not swear it.

"I can assure you I am a gentleman of independent property, and that I came over to this village for the purpose of buying some land," said Paul, "that is to be sold to-morrow at the Blue Lion.'

"I have cautioned you, sir," remarked the inspector, "not to say any