"It has been very hot to-day," said Mr. Chequerbent. "If it is like this to-morrow we 'll go on the water."

"I am agreeable," said the young lady. "But now, will you mind doing me a favour?"

"Will you do me the favour of naming it?" said our Paul, politely.

"Perhaps it will bore you, but never mind for once. I want you to let Mrs. Bong go with us. She's a good old soul, and behaved very well to me when I was out of an engagement, and hardly knew which way to turn. It would be such a treat to her. Do you mind very much?"

"I don't mind at all," said Paul, who was good-nature itself; "but she will look such a thundering Guy-won't she?"

"Not at all," said Angela; "she looks very respectable in private life, and sometimes smartens herself up prodigiously, if she happens to have an extra shilling, poor old thing. Once, you know, she was a very fine woman indeed."

"I don't know it," said Paul; "but my father may have heard his grandfather say so."

66

Nonsense, now, Paul. When she was Miss Stalkington she was greatly admired by the Duke of Cumberland."

"I know," said Paul, "but he broke off with her before he fought the battle of Culloden in seventeen hundred and forty something, about a hundred and ten years ago. It was very cruel of him-but that was his nature, and she has never heard from him since. However, she shall go with us, if it's only to comfort her. Where does she live ?"

"Over the water," said Angela. "I will send her a note tonight, and we will fetch her in the morning. Shall I meet you on the bridge?"

"On Hungerford Bridge, at eleven, Miss Livingstone," said Paul; "and be good enough to remember the right one, as I knew an engaged couple who made a similar appointment, and one of them mistook the bridge, so they walked up and down in parallel lines, for six hours, one on Hungerford, the other on Waterloo, actually within sight of one another, if they had thought of looking, and then rushed home and indited furious farewells for ever. So think, if you please, of being hungry, and of fording a river without your shoes and stockings, which no young person could better afford to do than you."

"How shockingly rude you are!" said Miss Livingstone, with a little imitation of prudery. "And now put me into a cab and send me away to my work. No, I will not have any coffee, but I will have some maraschino before I go."

How Paul passed that night matters not. He had his own reasons for keeping away from that part of town where he was likely to encounter acquaintances, and there is some reason to think that he beguiled the hours by visiting a series of very ungenteel entertainments of a musical and dramatic nature, the prices of admission to which varied from twopence to sixpence, and at most of which he followed the customs of the place by taking a great deal

of miscellaneous refreshment. At length, which may mean towards two o'clock, he judged it time to go to-bed, a feat which he performed at a quaint old inn looking upon Smithfield, and much patronized by farmers and other non-fastidious persons, whose business is transacted upon the death-place of Wallace and Wat Tyler. In the morning, after an economical breakfast in a room much like a vault, into which huge men in rough coats were perpetually tramping, and demanding Muster Boggles, Muster Whawp'n, and other friends, and drinking stimulants, on the chance of those gentlemen coming in (which they never did), Paul, feeling a good deal soddened, and not over-delighted with himself, made his way westward. It was a lovely morning, but the sun shone rather more brightly than seemed to Paul in good tastea fault which people who spend the over-night as he had done, are apt, I am told, to find with weather which makes the virtuous quite radiant. Little Angela was very punctual, and they set off into the wilds of Surrey in quest of Mrs. Bong.

In a tiny, ill-built cottage, in the middle of a large, dreary nursery-garden, Mrs. Bong resided. As they entered the gate, which was an enormous distance from the house, a tremendous voice came down upon the wind, and bore a greeting which might have been heard through a storm. Angela's pleasant little organ was exerted in return, but was utterly inaudible by her friend until the space between them had been diminished by a good half, when, by dint of extreme straining, Angy contrived to say

"Sorry you've got such a bad cold. You can only whisper." "Come along, you saucy thing," roared Mrs. Bong, with a kindly smile, strangely at variance with that portentous voice. And as they approached, Paul could quite make out that she must have been, as Angela had said, an exceedingly fine woman in her time. The commanding figure was not entirely unpreserved, and the face, worn as it had been by a hundred troubles and a thousand coats of bad rouge, retained a pleasant expression. The eyes were still bright, and there was a sort of melancholy animation which seemed to say that the poor woman was heartily tired of life's drama, but that she would play her part with spirit until the last long "wait."

"And so you have found the old lady at last," said Mrs. Bong, whose voice toned down to manageable thunder as soon as she got her visitors into the smallest room that ever held a sofa bedstead, a great black chest of drawers, and a mighty arm-chair, besides some ordinary and puny furniture. "And now sit down; you get upon the sofa, sir, and you here, Angy. And now, will you have some beer after your walk? Don't say no if rather not."

you'd

"We don't know the liquid," said Angela. "Never heard of it," said Paul. "But still one would like to learn, and if it is anything cool and refreshing, we are not too proud to try it."

In a minute, a not over-clean but handsome lad was vigorously dragged from an outhouse, a squealing dusty kitten was torn from

one of his hands, and a jug thrust into the other, before he could well shut his mouth after his first astonishment, and his aunt's finger indicated a solitary house with a new blue sign-board appended thereto. He was started at full speed, but Paul suddenly dashed after him.

"Halt, young Shaver," cried Mr. Chequerbent, arresting him, and putting a shilling into his hand. "Mind you say that the beer is for me, the Right Reverend the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, and give them this, and then you'll get it good. Now, cut." And he went back to the room, to which his hostess had not yet returned.

"What were you saying to the poor boy, Paul?" asked Angela. "Oh, nothing; only one don't want the old girl to be spending her money for us; I daresay she has not too much of it. But tell her to make haste and get ready."

"Put a pin through your nose and look sharp, aunty Bong," cried Angela. "I'll come and quicken you."

Left to himself, Paul took a survey of the contents of the apartment. On the walls were likenesses of the Reform Ministers, published at the time they earned that imposing name. The Lord Grey was scowling frightfully, and menacing the throne with a huge roll of parchment, inscribed THE BIL; the Lord Brougham, in a wig, was waving over his head, as beseemed his energetic nature, another roll, lettered WHOLE BIL; while the Lord John Russell was indignantly slapping his bosom with a third vast parchment, marked AND NOTHING BUT, three Parliamentary feats which Mr. Hansard shamefully omits to chronicle. The room was littered in every conceivable way. Half a dozen yellow covered playbooks, much worn, lay about, and all the lines belonging to Mrs. Bong's parts were scored under for convenient study. There was a dream-book, stated to be a correct reprint from one which the Emperor Napoleon always consulted on the eve of battle, and therefore especially useful to a lady; and there were some treatises on crochet, improved by the various figures being filled up with eyes and noses, and adorned with legs and arms, by the amateur labours of visitors. And the apartment was further enlivened with a mass of tarleton, soiled satin shoes, dress linings with thread all over them, play-bills, pink stockings, various belts, half a cookery book, a basket of greens, and some gold and silver trimming, divers ginger beer bottles, and a few other trifles. But presently the Shaver returned with the fluid he had been sent to fetch, and looked very wistfully at the wet halfpence constituting the change, which he honestly paid over to Paul.

"You may keep that, sir," said Paul, reading the boy's look; "but conditionally, mind me, on your not laying any of it out in jewellery or race-horses, which bring so many young men to destruction."

The Shaver grinned prodigiously, and again rushed off, and from his walking about, late in the day, with no eye-lashes to speak of, it has been surmised that he effected an ineligible

investment in gunpowder. But he was seen no more until after his aunt and her visitors departed.

Paul and his companions made for the Borough, where he insisted on stopping to buy himself a flat, shining, sailor's hat, leaving his own in the vender's care. They reached the London Bridge railway station, and then Mr. Chequerbent announced that he proposed to go to Gravesend, and demanded what time his friends must be in town to discharge their duties to the public. Mrs. Bong's theatre did not open for the season until next Monday, so she was sorry to say she was her own mistress.

"So am I," said Angela, "for a wonder, for there is a ben tonight, and I am in neither of the pieces."

"Who's Ben?" asked Paul, puzzled.

"I am not sure whose," replied Angela, not seeing that he was mystified, "but I think it's the Jovial Vaccinators and Friendly Confluent Scarlatinas who have taken the house between them, and they have got up the Surgeon of Paris, the Black Doctor, and the ballet of St. Vitus's Dance, as appropriate to the occasion. They always have a good benefit."

"Ben-benefit-video, carpo, twiggo," said Paul. And away they went for the city of shrimps.

"And how are you getting on, aunty," asked Angela, as soon as she was ensconced in a corner of one of the large carriages by which the North Kent directors have done their best to destroy the comfort and privacy of first-class travelling, and which entail upon the unfortunate passengers near the door the necessity of a fight at every station to prevent twice the proper number from being forced in by the officials.

"Oh! pretty well, my dear," said Mrs. Bong, in deep and melancholy tones. "The money is regular, such as it is. But it is hard work to earn it. For the last six weeks, and till we closed, I headed a conquering army, and also a band of brigands, every night, with five fights; but that's nothing. But I had to be carried over the rocks, tied on a wild horse, which with my weight is rather nervous business; and I have had to double a part which poor little Mrs. Scurchin was obliged to give up, being as ladies do not wish to be when they have to ride on an elephant, and slide down by his trunk. Then we have a nautical piece three nights a week, and I have rather a tiresome bit in that-I have to hang from the mast, in a storm, while the ship rolls and pitches up and down, and this goes on as long as the applause comes; one evening they kept me swinging for ten minutes-and the week before last the thing broke, and I fell through a trap and bruised myself sadly. I was obliged to lay up one night, but they stopped my salary, and that won't do, you know, with five mouths to feed, so I crawled to work again directly. And our rehearsals are very heavy, with so much spectacle; and I fully expect to break my limbs one of these mornings out of a cockle-shell of a car which they are trying to make six horses bring in on their backs, at an awful height, and me in it-the poor things kick so and get so unmercifully beaten; but Brax swears it is as safe as a cradle-a cradle on the

tree-top I tell him. However, it's only slavery for life, that's one comfort, and it'll be all the same a hundred years hence, that 's another."

"By Jove," said Paul. And he became thoughtful for full three minutes, considering how hard some people worked for a morsel of bread. But his meditations did not last, and he rattled away in his usual style until they reached Gravesend.

"We'll dine at Wates's," said Mr. Chequerbent, "and in the meantime we'll embark on the bosom of the deep. I hope you are good sailors."

Having ordered dinner, Paul sallied forth upon the little pier in front of the hotel, and was beset by half a dozen owners of boats, each of whom with that good feeling peculiar to the race, assured him that every one of the rival candidates was a rascal, had no number or licence, kept an unsafe vessel, and was generally, hopelessly, and utterly worthless. But Paul knew his men, and speedily slanged them into tolerable silence. He made choice of a clean boat, handed the ladies in, and immediately became intensely nautical.

"You may sheer off, skipper," he observed to the boatman, as soon as the sail was set, "I shan't want you."

"Good gracious, Paul," said Angela, "you mean to take the man, I hope. I am certain you can't manage the boat. O law!" and she really looked frightened.

"I'd better go with you, sir," said the man.

Nonsense," said Mr. Chequerbent, indignantly. "Do you think I can't manage a bit of a boat like this. I'd sail her to Margate with my eyes shut." And he persisted in turning out the man, and Paul taking the tiller in hand, the boat glided from the pier.

"No luck about her," shouted one of the disappointed candidates. "Find her way to the bottom, I should say."

Angela heard the speech, and looked so discomfited, that Paul stood up in wrath, and solemnly promised the fellow the best punch in the head he had ever received when they should return, and took note of the man's appearance with the full intention of redeeming his pledge.

A light breeze caught the sail, and they went pleasantly enough down the river. The roar of a Scotch steamboat was Angela's first fright; but Paul managed to give the monster a wide berth, and they danced gaily in the waves of her wake. And he got pretty decently away from the dark hulk of an emigrant vessel lying near. Paul began to be convinced that he was a first-rate pilot, and proceeded to discourse very learnedly to the ladies upon the mysteries of navigation. He pointed out the various craft, explained the characters of schooners, barks, brigs, cutters, and yachts, and was quite eloquent about luffing, tacking, hauling your wind, putting up your helm, and so forth. He was a little taken aback by Mrs. Bong, who, from playing in nautical pieces, had learned about as much as many yachting men know on such subjects, and who ventured to correct his allegation that port and