The 'Jorrocks' edition

Front matter

Mr. Facey Romford's Hounds. y>aMs * '^«^ zyuvr^&i. Mt[. Eac,e^p Ir^omfo^d'^ Hounds. BY THE AUTHOR OF "SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR" &>c, &*c. Clje " r^oxvachn" <£&itio... LONDON : BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. Limd., 8, 9, 10, BOUVERIE ST. 1S92. LONDON . BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LIMD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAtiF I. — OUR HERO. — THE WOMAN IN BLACK -1 II. — A FRIEND IN NEED 8 III. — THE SPONGE CIGAR AND BETTING ROOMS 14 IV.— THE BRIGHT IDEA ' . . 19 V. — THE H.H., OR, HEAVYSIDE HUNT . . . .23 VI. — GONE AWAY ! 28 VII. — MINSHULL VERNON 30 VIII. — THE H.H. HOUNDS 84 IX. — THE DI-BUT .'......'•'• 89 X. — OAKENSHAW WOOD ... .... 4*2 XI. — THE TENDER PARTING 51 XII. — MR. GOODHEARTED GREEN 54 XIII. — SWIG AND CHOWEY • .58 XIV. — CUB HUNTING 62 XV. — MRS. KOWLEY ROUNDING 64 XVI. — LUCY ON LEOTARD. — THE LADY WHIPPER-IN . ... 72 XVII. — THE FRACAS. — THE' LARKSPUR HUNT IN DOUBLEIMUPSHIRE 83 XVIII. — THE HONORARY SECRETARY TO THE LARKSPUR HUNT.— TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF 88 XIX. — LUCY BAMBOOZLES THE MASTER.— INDEPENDENT JIMMY . 97 XX.— BELDON HALL.— MRS. MUSTARD'S MISCELLANY .' . ■ 10*> XXI. — MR. PROUDLOCK, THE KEEPER — LORD LONNERGAN AND HIS SON, COMMONLY CALLED 'IHE HONOURABLE LOVETIN LONNERGAN . l15 XXII. — THE INTERNAL ECONOMY OF BELDON HALL.— GOODHEARTED GREEN AGAIN 122 XXIII. — MR. AND MRS. WILLY WATKINS AND MISS WATKINS . . 130 XXIV. — THE MORNING CALL ....*...• 136 XXV. — MR. ROMFORD'S Dl-BUT IN DOUBLEIMUPSHIRE . . . 145 XXVI. — A FICTITIOUS FOX I53 XXVII. — A REAL FOX 15& CONTENTS.

VI CHAP. PACE XXVIII. — ME. HAZEY AND HIS BOY BILL I*-*1-1 XXIX. — BILLY BALSAM AND BOB SHORT -*•* XXX. — MR. HAZEY'S MORNING CALL !'*> 1 ft0 XXXI. — MR. AND MRS. WATKINS AGAIN 10" XXXII. — DALBEREY LEES 18/ XXXIII. — THE DALBERRY7 LEES UPROAR IN HONOUR OF MR. ROMFORD 194 XXXIV. — THE HUNT BREAKFAST 202 . XXXV. — THE BAG FOX , • • • 210 XXXVI. — THE BAG FOX ENLARGED 214 XXXVII. — TARRING NEVILLE 224 XXXVIII. — MR. AND MRS. HAZEY*'S INVITATION ..... 238- XXXIX. — MR. HAZEY'S HOSPITALITY' 246- XL. — HOW TO SPELL CAT 25& XLI. — THE HARD AND SHARP HOUNDS 260- . XLII. — THE FAT BOY7 OF PICKERING NOOK 269' XLIIT. — MR. STOTFOLD'S ESTABLISHMENT 273- XLIV. — MR. STOTFOLD ARRIVES AT DALBERRY LEES . . . 281 j XLV. — THE BENICIA BOY 285 j.,- XLVI. — THE STAG-HUNT 290 ;. XLVII. — MR. STANLEY STERLING . . . . . . . . 300' XLVIII. — MR. STANLEY STERLING'S FOX 304 , XLIX. — MISS BETSY SHANNON. — MR. ROMFORD AT HOME . . . 316 .. .

L. — MR. FIZZEE, CONFECTIONER TO THE QUEEN . . . 323 LI. — MRS. SOMERVILLE "AT HOME" . . . ... 326 LII. — MRS. SOMERVILLE'S SANDWICHES ..... 338 LIII. — THE INVASION . . . . . . ... 342. LIV. — THE BELDON BALL 345 LV. — MR. GOODHEARTED GREEN AGAIN 355 LVI. — THE INFIRMARY BALL 360 LVII. — THE COUNTESS OF CAPERINGTON 370 LVIII. — THE DEAL 375- LIX. — THE DISASTER. — THE "LORD HILL " HOTEL AND POSTING- HOUSE 377 LX. — SPITE OF ALL AND STAND AGAINST ALL .... 383 LXI. — THE TENTH MILESTONE ON THE LARKSPUR ROAD . . . 388 LXII. — THE FINISH . LIST OF VIGNETTES. PAGE The Two Franks 1 "Oncle Dead" 11 Facey Arrives in London . . . . . . . . . . 14 Leather Butting Facey downstairs ....... 18 Facey Reads his Replies 23 "En Route" 30 8 A.M. — Facey Surveys his Quarters . . . . . . . 33 The Local Bumpkin shows the Way . . . ... . .35 Thc New M. F. H 41 " Taks a Huntsman to Kill a Fox " 49 Daniel Swig and Tom Chowey — the Whippers-in . . . . . 61 At the Kennel 63 The Lady " Whip " 72 The Romford Crest 87 The Meeting at Trench Crossing Station ....... 89 " Pristine Beauty " .......... 97 Facey Escorts Mrs. Somerville to her Destination 103 " Not a Blush from Miss Ruth " Ill " Country Callers " 141 " Just a Thimbleful " 149 " Gently, Blithsoma !

Chapter I. Our Hero

— THE AVOMAX IX BLACK. T was lucky for our friend Mr. Romford— cr Facey Romford as he is sometimes familiarly called — that there was another Mr. Romford in the world of much the same tastes and pursuits as himself, for our Mr. Romford profited very considerably by the other Mr. Romford's name and reputation. In the first place they were both called Frank,* and in the second place they both kept hounds ; on different principles, to be sure, but still they both kept hounds, and the THE TWO FRANKS. mere fact of their doing so was very confusing. Added to this, onr friend Facey being of the pushing, acquisitive order, accepted the change without doubt or hesitation. We don't mean to insinuate that he went about saying " I am the rich Mr. Romford, owner of Abbeyfield Park, patron of three livings, J.P., D.L.," and all that sort of thing ; but if he found he was taken for that Mr. Romford, he never cared to contradict the impression.

Indeed, if pressed, he would mount the high * Our friend was called Charley at school, but his real name was Francis -hence, perhaps, '• Facey." B R. FACEY ROMFORD'S HOUNDS. 2 horse and talk patronisingly of thc other Mr. Romford— say he was a deuced good fellow, if not much of a sportsman, and altogether pooh-pooh him considerably. To hear Facey talk, onc would think that he had not only persuaded himself that he was the right Romford, but had made the right Romford believe so too. Of the Facey pedigree we would gladly furnish the readers of this work with some little information, but unfortunately it docs not lie in onr power so to do, and for the self-same reason that prevented Nimrod from detailing that of Mr. .Torrocks', namely, that we do not happen to know anything. "When in his cups (which, however, is but seldom), Facey has been heard to observe that he was "nobbut well bred on one side of his head."

" My moother," he used to say, " was a lady, but my fatther was a gardener." The illiberal, indeed, have asserted that the parentage was pretty equal on both sides of the head, for that the moother was a lady's-maid, and the fatther a gardener, a union that certainly does not seem so inconsistent as the other. Be that how-ever as it may, Facey in early life had constituted himself heir to a maternal uncle, one Mr. Francis Gilroy, a farmer in the country, and a great cattle jobber in London. Gilroy was his godfather, and Facey was called Francis Gilroy Romford out of compliment to him. "Now a cattle jobber is to the bovine world what the dealer is to the horsey world, and it requires an uncommonly cute, sagacious sort of chap to make a successful jobber. All this "Oncle Gilroy" was. He had a pair of little penetrating beady black eyes, set in a great red-faced chuckle head, that could almost look into an animal, see what sort of an interior it had, what sort of a thriver it was going to be, and tell what weight it was likely to get up to.

He was a capital judge of stock, and had a fine discriminating genius that taught him the propriety of charging a gentleman customer a good deal more than a farmer. " Nothin' like changin' your stock often," he used to say to the former, which, considering that Gilroy had a commission at both ends, to say nothing of very comfortable pickings in the way of luck pence, and market charges, etc., in the middle, was a very judicious recommendation. He was supposed to have choked more gentlemen off the cattle department of farming than any other salesman going. Indeed, so pleased were the graziers in one county with his performances in that line, that they presented him with a testimonial— a silver tankard. It did not make the noise these absurdities usually do, either from a lack of eloquence on the part of the chairman, or because " This eternal blazon must not be," but came off very quietly.

" Francis Gilroy," said the Chairman, producing a silver cup from his pocket after the market dinner, and stripping it of its pink tissue and whity-brown paper. " Francis Gilroy, there's the mug," handing it to him. "Gentlemen," said Gilroy, taking it, "I thank you for the jug;" and so ended the ceremony. But they all knew what it meant. The inscription, " Gilroy, the Farmers' Friend," told that. Now Gilroy, who lived very economically in the country, was supposed to have accumulated a vast deal of money, and Facey Romford, who had been apprenticed or articled, or whatever they call it, to a civil engineer, thought there was no use in his toiling and slaving too ; so he gave up the theodolite, intending to wait for his uncle's shoes, which Facey reckoned Gilroy would not be long in being done with.

And having a decided turn for sporting in all its branches, he laid himself out for it by fair means and foul, doing a little poaching when he couldn't get it otherwise. And being a bit of a Vet, hc generally had an old horse to cobble up, on which he used to scramble after the hounds, and sell when he wonld pass for sound. So he went on from year to year, living, as Gilroy said, "verra contagious to his farm," now fluting to and flattering the old fellow that he would live for ever, now most devotedly wishing that he would, what he called, "hop the twig." And the neighbouring farmers and people, seeing the terms they were on together, put up with a good deal more trespass and nonsense from Facey than they would otherwise have ■done. Thus Gilroy increased in years and corpulence, and Facey matured to a man, each trusting the other just as far as he thought right.

Gilroy never said in as many words to Facey, " Francis, my dear fellow, all you see here and a great deal more will be yours," but he always directed his letters E. Gilroy Romford, Esq., as if proud of the connection, encouraged him to look after his farm in his absence, to protect his Talavera wheat from Squire Gollarton's pheasants, and see that he got a fair day's work out of his women people at harvest and turnip time. And as there is perhaps no man so happy as an heir-apparent, Facey lived on in little village lodgings, beguiling his days with his rod and his gun, and his evenings with a tune on the flute, varied with mental calculations as to how much Gilroy was worth. " There must be lots of money somewhere," Facey used to say, as he sat smoking his cavendish in his diminutive sitting room ; " there must be lots of money somewhere — bills, bonds, post obits, I 0 U's ; " for Facey reckoned rightly, his uncle was too good a judge to put his money out to ordinary interest.

" Shouldn't \wonder if there was twenty thousand pund," he used to say con- B sidentially to himself. " Fancy me with twenty thousand pund, boy jingo ! " . - . Nay, he has been known, under the influence of his third glass of gin, to get it up as high as thirty thousand, on which occasions his imaginings were very magnificent. He would have the best kennel of pointers and setters in the kingdom, and, like Mr. Sawyer, would go to the Shires with such a stud of hunters as never were seen. Money ! Money would be no object to him ! He'd give anything for a good horse ! Hope deferred never made the Romford heart sick; on the contrary, he rose with the occasion, flattering himself that the cash was only accumulating. One dull winter afternoon, on which day had scarcely gained! its supremacy over night, as Facey Romford was taking a stroll with his dog and gun round his absent uncle's farm, — the dog down in the dell on Squire Gollarton's side, Facey all right for a shot either way,— what should he see but the unwonted apparition of a dark luggage-laden vehicle crawling leisurely up the rutty lane leading to the house.

Facey stood transfixed, like a pointer to its game, regardless of Juno's feathering below. " Who have we here ? " muttered he, stopping and grounding his gun on his navvy-shod foot. The dingy looking vehicle went crawling on as before. " No go, there," continued Facey, as the driver now stopped and descended from his box to open the last gate, which having propped back with a bit of stick that he found lying on the ground, he re-mounted and drove up to the door with as much dash as he could raise. Facey stood looking, and calculating how long it would be ere the white horse's head reappeared at the end of the variegated holly hedge, that protected the Gilroy hereditaments from the cutting east wind. Then he wondered whether the fellow would have the sense to shut the gate, or would just. leave it open as it was.

" Dash it, I shouldn't wonder if he was to leave it as it is," said' Facey watching ; " these town fellows have no idea of cattle trespass, or anything of that sort, and think gates are just put to divide people's properties, or for larking foxhunters to leap over."' So Facey looked and looked, keeping one eye on the gate and the other on the old red cow, who knew 'j list as well as a Christian when there was the chance of a dash at the great Scotch cabbages. at the back of the garden. Still no horse's head, no vehicle appeared. " Devilish odd," said Romford, staring ; must be me Oncle Gilroy with a friend. Some one praps come down to see * For further particulars ot Mr. Facey Romford's antecedents, consult. ".Vr. Sponge's Sporting Tour," p. 381. gome stock. But it's never like him to hire a fly with his own gig mare only doing half day's works.

Hope his friend pays for it. Never do to have him wasting the inheritance in that way. Must go and see," continued Facey. Whistling up Juno, and shouldering his Joe Manton, he went striding away, closely fol lowed by Juno, looking somewhat disconcerted at being done out of her fun. Facey was a capital hand across country, whether ou foot or on horseback, and soon put the intervening fields between him , and the house behind him. His heart beat quicker as he advanced, for he felt there was something unusual in the sight. He had never seen a shut cab at his uncle's before. It couldn't be that the long expected event had happened. Hardly, he thought. What was all the luggage for ? However, he would soon see. On he went for the purpose. Kicking the little prop out from under the gate, so as to let it close on the swing, he hurried round the corner, and soon had the familiar house full before him.

The fly was gone, gone to the stables behind. Couldn't be Oncle Gilroy, he wouldn't stand that, Facey knew. No fly-horses baited there ; Red Lion was the place. Hark ! sounds of mirth proceed from the parlour, children's voices screaming and shouting, Barley me this, Barley me that. " Oh, what a drum this will make ! " exclained another, thumping away at Uncle Gilroy's hard hat. " AVho the deuce have we here ? " muttered Facey, now lost in astonishment. Pushing through the partially opened sash door, he traversed the passage, and presently stood iu the widely opened portals of the parlour. A great coarse-looking woman in deep mourning was arranging her crape bonnet in the diminutive mirror above the little imitation marble mantel-piece just opposite the door, while a perfect sliding scale of children, all clad in black too, were romping and rioting about in a way quite inconsistent with grief, — one had the Gilroy testimonial in. its hand.

The lady started as she saw Romford in the glass, and wheeling round turned a very brandified face, surmounted by a most palpable flaxen front, full upon him. " AVho are you ? " ejaculated Facey, eyeing her intently. " And who are you ? " demanded she, putting her arms a-kimbo, and staring him full in the face. She was a great masculine knock-me-down-looking woman, apparently about five-and-forty, red faced, grey eyed, with a strongish shading of moustache on her upper lip. Facey trembled as he looked at her. He got the creeps all over. "Me Oncle Gilroy's not at home," at length ejaculated Facey. " Hut, you and your uncle Gilroy ! D'ye s'pose I don't know that ? " exclaimed she, with a horse laugh. (i " Well, but who are you ? " demanded Facey, bristling np. " Who ami!" retorted she. " AVho am I !

I'm the mistress of this 'ere 'ouse," replied she ; " and this is the young Squire," patting a boy on the head, so painfully like Gilroy as to be per fectly'ridiculous—big bristly head, beady black eyes, capacious mouth, and lop ears. The truth flashed upon Facey with terrible velocity. His uncle was dead, and had deceived him. Frightful idea ! Facey quivered all over. His knock knees smote each other. It was but too true. Gilroy, instead of retiring to the Royal Oak, or the King and Queen on Paddington Green, there to enjoy a quiet frugal glass before turning in to his seven-shillings-a-week lodgings, as he always represented to Facey and his friends, had a regular estab lishment in the sylvan retirement of Lisson Grove, St. John's. AVood, where he had reared the covey of little Gilroys who now disported themselves profusely over his parlour.

Gilroy was dead. While Facey stood as it were transfixed, the lady had dived into her pocket and fished up a document that Facey saw at a glance was the will. " There ! " exclaimed she, flourishing it open, so as io display the well-known Gilroy signature, "there's the writin's. Now have you got anything for to say ?" demanded she. Facey was mute. " I've heard of you, you nasty sneakin' mean-spirited wretch,'" continued she, " thinkin' to rob me and mine of their dues. I've cat your cock fizzants and your 'ares, you nasty warmint, and laughed at your folly for sendin' them ; " and thereupon she set up a chuckle that shot through Facey's every nerve. A waft of the will would almost have been enough to knock him down. Just then old Mother Meggison, the housekeeper, who had alreachattorned to the new regime, came hurrying in with a red hot poker to light the fire, and Facey gladly availed himself of the opportunity to beat a last retreat.

He rushed frantically through the familiar fold yard, nearly upsetting the fly-man, who was crossing with a pail of water for his horse, then struck down the deep lane past the Lizzards, swung through AAroodgate Marsh, and on to Ballishaw Barn, bottling up his grief until he got home. Arrived at his little lodgings at Dame Tiotter's, he rushed up stairs, disregarding the liver and bacon he heard hissing for dinner, and entering his little partitioned-oflf room, threw himself on the stump bed, and groaned loud and audibly. " Oh, dear me ! Oh, dear me ! Oh, dear, what shall I do ! " Just as if he had got the stomach-ache. Then clasping his righb knee with both hands, as he lay on his back, he held his leg up "to wards the ceiling, and apostrophised himself as follows : — " Oil Francis Gilroy Romford, moy beloved friend, you arc reglarly "WHO am I? i'm the mistress of this 'ere 'ouse — and this is the young squire!" [P. 6. floored— done brown !

That wretched old Oncle has sold vou ! Oh Francis Gilroy Romford, discard the detested name of Gilroy, and be for ever after Romford only. Oh, Francis Romford, Francis Romford, what are you now to do— what are you now to do ? Here for years have you beeu feasting and serving that vicious old man, sending him fish, sending him game, looking alter his farm, nearly breaking your wind by playing the flute to him, and now— Oh, heavens, that it should ever have come to this ! " and thereupon relinquishing the leg, he buried his face in his hands. Just then Dame Trotter, who had heard his groans and his moans, came hurrying in with her never-failing specific, a glass of hot gin and bitters, which Facey bid her set down on the drawers and retire. Then finding he was overheard, he moderated the expressions of his grief, well knowing that very little clamour wonld raise a troublesome body of creditors about him.

Taking the gin and bitters, therefore, into his sitting-room, he halloaed down-stairs to Mrs. Trotter to give his dogs their dinners, adding that he didn't want any himself ; and drawing his wooden-bottomed semicircular chair to the fire, with a foot" on each hob, and a pipe of tobacco, he quietly contemplated his condition. It was very bad ; there was no denyingthat. Gilroy had been too many for him. He now understood why he so often had cattle left from one market-day to another, and which he must needs stay in town to look after. The woman in black explained all that. AVicked old man, where could he expect to go ? AArould surely get quilted below. It was not only the money Facey had lost, — the thousands and tens of thousands, — but all the fine chances of preferment he had thrown away on the strength of being Gilroy's heir.

He might have married Susan Burtree, who was reputed to have five thousand pounds, — three certainly, — with great expectations from an aunt. Miss Cropsey, now Mrs. Jimmy Dobson, would have been delighted to have had him ; and the rich widow Sago had set her cap at him, only she, as Facey said, was past mark of mouth. In the hey-day of heirship he was rather particular and difficult to please. Moreover he was a prudent Facey, and would never make up to a girl until he knew exactly what she had, be cause — as he used to explain to the mammas, — his Oncle Gilroy would be sure to disinherit him if he made an improvident match. So he never laid himself open to an action, or the charge of having used a girl infamously. He now felt he had built too much on Oncle Gilroy, and too little on himself.

If he was not altogether handsome, he was of goodly stature — six feet high — and there was something about him, he said, that the girls couldn't resist. But perhaps the reader would rather have his portrait drawn by amore impartial hand than his own. AA'ell, then, at the time the aforesaid calamity befell him, he was just turned of thirty-one, tall and muscular, with a broad expansive chest, heavy round shoulders, and rather knock knees. His large backward-growing-all-roundthe-chin-gingery-whiskered face was lit up with a pair of little roving red-lidded pig eyes, that were constantly on the watch, — sideways, lengthways, cornerways, all ways save frontways. He looked as if he was always premeditating a parable, but somehow never produced it. Not that he was a fool— far from it, as those who had had anything to do with him in tbe betting or horse-dealing lines could testify ; but he looked like a satirist who could cut a man in two with a sarcasm, only, like a generous giant, he refrained from doing so.

In short, a sort of you'd-better-leaveme-alone-looking man. Well, then, this stout strong able-bodied man, without a grey hair in his head, was suddenly thrown on his beam-ends without the slightest notice, or provocation on his part. A long weary apprenticeship to his uncle Gilroy's fortune regularly thrown away. The position was critical, for the woman in black would be sure to proclaim it, after which Facey felt there would be no quietus for him. And deeply he pondered on his alarming condition, and voluminous were the clouds of smoke he raised in his aid. Dame Trotter's cuckoo clock chimed three before he turned into bed, and the bird announced four, aod the bird announced five, ere he dropped off' into an unquiet sleep, greatly dreading the terrors of the coming dawn.

Chapter II

A FRIEND IX NEED. Somehow Facey Romford awoke better than he expected. The reality ofhis position was mercifully continued to him, instead of having to be gathered in disjointed fragments and put together again. His quick apprehension, too, suggested a resource. On the south side ofthe village cf Hezelton, where Facey lived, about equidistant from his uncle Gilroy's, was Puddingpote Bowers the seat of Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey, or Jogglebury Crowdey, Esq.,* as we suppose he ought to be called ; a lat, estimable gentleman, who devoted himself to the administration of the poor law, the propagation of his species, and the manufacture of fancy-headed * Vi_e " Mr. Sponge's sporting Teitr," p. 303. MM. FACEY ROMFORD'S HOUNDS. 9 walking-sticks. Of children, he had twelve, with the prospect of more, to each of whom he flattered himself if he could leave a sufficient number of walking-sticks he would make them very in dependent.

So he cut and hacked and hewed and fashioned ashes, hollies, blackthorns, &c, into the heads of great people, — poets, authors, statesmen, and so on. To this and his other pursuits Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey had at one time united those of shooter and occasional fox-hunter, more perhaps to promote the grand object of stick-hunting than from any de.ided inclination for either sport ; but his waistband increasing in size he had long relinquished the saddle, aud had latterly entered into an arrangement with Mr. Facey Romford, whereby the latter was to have the free range of his manor (which indeed Facey had long taken without leave), in consideration of a certain equivalent in the way of game. So Crowdey, who was a good shooter, but a bad hitter, got a small supply of birds — as many as Facey thought were good for him — while he saved not only the cost of his certificate, but also of his powder and shot, to say nothing of the exertions of himself and his plethoric dog, Ponto, who like his master had become fat and lazy.

This gunning arrangement of course brought Mr. Romford occasionally to Puddingpote Bower, and Mrs. Crowdey, ever anxious for the welfare of her numerous progeny, aud perhaps rayther mistrusting Jog's sticks, had conceived the notable idea of securing the Gilroy fortune, after Facey was done with it, for one of her youngsters. So she made up to Facey a good deal, always had him to dine when there was a goose (not her husband, but the bird), and put Master Marcus Aurelius forward as the most promising boy in the parish. And Facey feeling all this, and thinking that perhaps the Puddingpote intimacy might now end, resolved to conclude it with a loan, which present circumstances favoured the prospect of getting. So, arrayinghimself immediately after his porridge breakfast in a glossy suit of black that he had long kept in lavender to be ready for his Oncle, he craped his Sunday hat deeply, and drawing on a pair of new black kid gloves, took the way across the fields, avoiding Bickerton and Branshaugh, to the Bower.

Arrived there he found Jog feeding his Cochins, who started at the sight, and nearly broke the brown earthenware bowl in which he had the barley-meal. '' Oncle dead," whispered Facey, with a knowing look and a solemn shake of the head. " Poor (puff) ! " ejaculated Jog ; " when did it (puff, wheeze) happen ? " " Only heard of it last night," replied Facey, lowly. "(Puff) in, and (gasp) Mrs. Jogglebury," said Jog, taking Facey's muscular arm and leading the way through the back kitchen to the dining-room, where Mrs. Jog was just sweeping the chips Jog had made in cutting a Lord Palmerstoman-headed stick under the grate. "My (puff) dear, here's (gasp) Mr. Romford," said Jog, opening the door and putting his friend forward to bear the brunt ot the action in case it should be wrong. Mrs. Jog started, too, for she had never seen Facey in anything but his somewhat miscel laneous coloured clothes, and the contrast was rather appalling.

She soon jumped to a conclusion. " Poor mau ! " exclaimed she, clasping her hands, " when did it happen ? " " Only heard of it last night," replied Facey sorrowfully, as the woman iu black flashed across his mind. " Indeed ! Then was he from home ? " " Been away for a week," replied Facey ; " was to have come home on Tuesday." " Only think ! " ejaculated Mrs. Jogglebury, turning her eyes up to the ceiling, as if with a fine moral reflection, but in reality calculating Aurelius's chances. "AATiat, died in London, did he ? " " Died in London," assented Facey. " Then you'll be going up to see about things, won't you ? " asked Mrs. Jogglebury, anxious for Marcus Aurelius's interest. " That's just it," said Facey, looking out of the corners of his little ferretty eyes at Jogglebury, " that's just it.