person and in the limbs, which especially have shrunk very much of late. When he was about seventy years of age (he is now nearly eighty), his hair, which was very scarce and quite white, suddenly grew thick, and brown, and curly, and his whiskers and eyebrows took their present colour. Ill-natured people say that his chest is all wool, and that his hair, because it never grows, is a wig. Tom Tufto, with whose father he quarrelled ever so many years ago, declares that Mademoiselle de Jaisey, of the French theatre, pulled his grandpapa's hair off in the green-room; but Tom is notoriously spiteful and jealous; and the general's wig has nothing to do with our story.

One day, as some of our friends of the -th were sauntering in the flower-market of Brussels, having been to see the Hotel de Ville, which Mrs. Major O'Dowd declared was not near so large or handsome as her fawther's mansion of Glenmalony, an officer of rank, with an orderly behind him, rode up to the market, and descending from his horse, came amongst the flowers, and selected the very finest bouquet which money could buy. The beautiful bundle being tied up in a paper, the officer remounted, giving the nosegay into the charge of his military groom, who carried it with a grin, following his chief, who rode away in great state and self-satisfaction.

'You should see the flowers at Glenmalony,' Mrs. O'Dowd was remarking. Me fawther has three Scotch garners with nine helpers. We have an acre of hot-houses, and pines as common as pays in the sayson. Our greeps weighs six pounds every bunch of 'em, and upon me honour and conscience I think our magnolias is as big as taykettles.' Dobbin, who never used to draw out' Mrs. O'Dowd as that wicked Osborne delighted in doing (much to Amelia's terror, who implored him to spare her), fell back in the erowd, crowing and sputtering until he reached a safe distance, when he exploded amongst the astonished marketpeople with shrieks of yelling laughter.

'Hwhat's that gawky guggling about?' said Mrs. O'Dowd. Is it his nose bleedn? He always used to say 'twas his nose bleedn, till he must have pomped all the blood out of um. An't the magnolias at Glenmalony as big as taykettles, O'Dowd?'

Deed then they are, and bigger, Peggy,' the major said. When the conversation was interrupted in the manner

stated by the arrival of the officer who purchased the bouquet.

'Devlish fine horse-who is it?' George asked.

'You should see me brother Molloy Moloney's horse, Molasses, that won the cop at the Curragh,' the major's wife was exclaiming, and was continuing the family history, when her husband interrupted her by saying,

'It's General Tufto, who commands the

cavalry division; adding quietly, he and I were both shot in the same leg at Talavera.'

6

'Where you got your step,' said George with a laugh. General Tufto! Then, my dear, the Crawleys are come. Amelia's heart fell-she knew not why. The sun did not seem to shine so bright. The tall old roofs and gables looked less picturesque all of a sudden, though it was a brilliant sunset, and one of the brightest and most beautiful days at the end of May.

CHAPTER XXIX

BRUSSELS

no R. Jos had hired a pair of horses for his open carriage, with which cattle, and the smart London No vehicle, he made a very tolerable I figure in the drives about Brussels. George purchased a horse for his private riding, and he and CapStain Dobbin would often accompany the carriage in which Jos and his sister took daily excursions of pleasure. They went out that www.day in the park for their accustomed diversion, and there, sure enough, George's remark with regard to the arrival of Rawdon Crawley and his wife proved to be correct. In the midst of a little troop of horsemen, consisting of some of the very greatest persons in Brussels, Rebecca was seen in the prettiest and tightest of riding-habits, mounted on a beautiful little Arab, which she rode

to perfection (having acquired the art at Queen's Crawley, where the baronet, Mr. Pitt, and Rawdon himself had given her many lessons), and by the side of the gallant General Tufto.

Sure it's the juke himself,' cried Mrs. Majɔr O'Dowd to Jos, who began to blush violently; and that's Lord Uxbridge on the bay. How elegant he looks! Me brother, Molloy Moloney, is as like him as two peas.'

Rebecca did not make for the carriage; but as soon as she perceived her old acquaintance, Amelia, seated in it, acknowledged her presence by a gracious word and smile, and by kissing and shaking her fingers playfully in the direction of the vehicle. Then she resumed her conversation with General Tufto, who asked 'who the fat officer was in the gold-laced cap?' on which Becky replied,' that he was an officer in the East Indian service." But Rawdon

Crawley rode out of the ranks of his company, and came up and shook hands heartily with Amelia, and said to Jos, Well, old boy, how are you?' and stared in Mrs. O'Dowd's face and black cock's feathers until she began to think she had made a conquest of him.

George, who had been delayed behind, rode up almost immediately with Dobbin, and they touched their caps to the august personages, among whom Osborne at once perceived Mrs. Crawley. He was delighted to see Rawdon leaning over his carriage familiarly and talking to Amelia, and met the aide de camp's cordial greeting with more than corresponding warmth. The nods between Rawdon and Dobbin were of the very faintest specimens of politeness. Crawley told George where they were stopping with General Tufto at the Hotel du Parc, and George made his friend promise to come speedily to Osborne's own residence. Sorry I hadn't seen you three days ago,' George said. 'Had a dinner at the restaurateur's-rather a nice thing. Lord Bareacres, and the countess, and Lady Blanche, were good enough to dine with us-wish we'd had you.' Having thus let his friend know his claims to be a man of fashion, Osborne parted from Rawdon, who followed the august squadron down an alley into which they cantered, while George and Dobbin resumed their places, one on each side of Amelia's carriage.

'How well the juke looked,' Mrs. O'Dowd remarked. 'The Wellesleys and Moloneys are related; but, of course,