peculiarly happy, feeling all the while especially miserable. "Don't it rain ?" inquired the old gentleman before noticed, when, by dint of squeezing and jamming, they were all seated at table. "I think it does-a little," replied Mr. Percy Noakes, who could hardly hear himself speak, in consequence of the pattering on the deck. "Don't it blow?" inquired some one else. 66 No-I don't think it does," responded Hardy, sincerely wishing that he could persuade himself it did not, for he sat near the door, and was almost blown off his seat. "It'll soon clear up," said Mr. Percy Noakes, in a cheerful tone. "Oh, certainly!" ejaculated the committee generally. "No doubt of it," said the remainder of the company, whose attention was now pretty well engrossed by the serious business of eating, carving, taking wine, and so forth. The throbbing motion of the engine was but too perceptible. There was a large, substantial cold boiled leg of mutton at the bottom of the table, shaking like blanc-mange; a hearty sirloin of beef looked as if it had been suddenly seized with the palsy; and some tongues, which were placed on dishes rather too large for them, were going through the most surprising evolutions, darting from side to side, and from end to end, like a fly in an inverted wine-glass. Then the sweets shook and trembled till it was quite impossible to help them, and people gave up the attempt in despair; and the pigeonpies looked as if the birds, whose legs were stuck outside, were trying to get them in. The table vibrated and started like a feverish pulse, and the very legs were slightly convulsed-every thing was shaking and jarring. The beams in the roof of the cabin seemed as if they were put there for the sole purpose of giving people headaches, and several elderly gentlemen became ill-tempered in consequence. As fast as the steward put the fire-irons up, they would fall down again; and the more the ladies and gentlemen tried to sit comfortably on their seats, the more the seats seemed to slide away from the ladies and gentlemen. Several ominous demands were made for small glasses of brandy; the countenances of the company gradually underwent the most extraordinary changes; and one gentleman was observen suddenly to rush from table without the slightest ostensible reason, and dart up the steps with incredible swiftness, thereby greatly damaging both himself and the steward, who happened to be coming down at the same moment. The cloth was removed; the dessert was laid on the table, and the glasses were filled. The motion of the boat increased; several members of the party began to feel rather vague and misty, and looked as if they had only just got up. The young gentleman with the spectacles, who had been in a fluctuating state for some time -one moment bright, and another dismal, like a revolving light on the sea-coast rashly announced his wish to propose a toast. After several ineffectual attempts to preserve his perpendicular, the young gentleman, having managed to hook himself to the centre leg of the table with his left hand, proceeded as follows: "Ladies and gentlemen.-A gentleman is among us-I may say a stranger—(here some painful thought seemed to strike the orator; he paused, and looked extremely odd) whose talents, whose travels, whose cheerfulness "I beg your pardon, Edkins," hastily interrupted Mr. Percy Noakes.- -"Hardy, what's the matter?" "Nothing," replied the funny gentleman,' who had just life enough left to utter two consecutive syllables. "Will you have some brandy?" "No," replied Hardy, in a tone of great indignation, and looking about as comfortable as Temple-bar in a Scotch mist, "what should I want brandy for?" "Will you go on deck?" a "No, I will not." This was said with most determined air, and in a voice which might have been taken for an imitation of any thing; it was quite as much like a guinea-pig as a bassoon. "I beg your pardon, Edkins," said the courteous Percy; "I thought our friend was ill. Pray go on." A pause. 66 Pray go on." "Mr. Edkins is gone," cried somebody. "I beg your pardon, sir," said the steward, running up to Mr. Percy Noakes, "I beg your pardon, sir, but the gentleman as just went on deck-him with the green spectacles-is uncommon bad, to be sure; and the young man as played the wiolin says, that unless he has some brandy he can't answer for the consequen ces. He says he has a wife and two chil dren, whose werry subsistence depends on his breaking a wessel, and that he expects to do so every moment. The flageolet's been very ill, but he's better, only he's in such a dreadful prusperation." All disguise was now useless; the company staggered on deck, the gentlemen tried to see nothing but the clouds, and the ladies, muffled up in such shawls and cloaks as they had brought with them, laid about on the seats and under the seats, in the most wretched condition. Never was such a blowing, and raining, and pitching, and tossing, endured by any pleasure party before. Several remonstrances were sent down below on the subject of Master Fleetwood, but they were totally unheeded in consequence of the indisposition of his natural protectors. That interesting child screamed at the very top of his voice, until he had no voice left to scream with, and then Miss Wakefield began, and screamed for the remainder of the passage. Mr. Hardy was observed some hours afterwards in an attitude which induced his friends to suppose that he was busily engaged in contemplating the beauties of the deep; they only regretted that his taste for the picturesque should lead him to remain so long in a position, very injurious at all times, but especially so to an individual labouring under a tendency of blood to the head. The party arrived off the Custom-house at about two o'clock on the Thursday morning-dispirited and worn out. The Tauntons were too ill to quarrel with the Briggses, and the Briggses were too wretched to annoy the Tauntons. One of the guitar-cases was lost on its passage to a hackney-coach, and Mrs. Briggs has not scrupled to state that the Tauntons bribed a porter to throw it down an Mr. Alexander Briggs opposes vote by ballot - he says from personal experience of its inefficacy; and Mr. Samuel Briggs, whenever he is asked to express his sentiments on the point, says that he has no opinion on that or any other subject. area. Mr. Edkins- the young gentleman in the green spectacles—makes a speech on every occasion on which a speech can possibly be made, the eloquence of which can only be equalled by its length. In the event of his not being previously appointed to a judgeship, it is most probable that he will practise as a barrister in the New Central Criminal Court. Captain Helves continued his attention to Miss Julia Briggs, whom he might possibly have espoused, if it had not unfortunately happened that Mr. Samuel arrested him in the way of business, pursuant to instructions received from Messrs. Scroggins and Payne, whose town debts the gallant captain had condescended to collect, but whose accounts, with the indiscretion so peculiar to military minds, he had omitted to keep with that dull accuracy which custom has rendered necessary. Mrs. Taunton complains that she has been much deceived in him. He introduced himself to the family on board a Gravesend steam-packet, and certainly, therefore, ought to have proved respect. able. Mr. Percy Noakes is as light-hearted and careless as ever. We have described him as a general favourite in his private circle, and trust he may find a kindlydisposed friend or two in public. CHAPTER VIII. THE GREAT WINGLEBURY DUEL. THE little town of Great Winglebury is exactly forty-two miles and three quarters from Hyde Park corner. It has a long, straggling, quiet High-street, with a great black and white clock at a small red Town-hall, half-way up-a marketplace-a cage. -an assembly-room-a church-a bridge-a chapel-a theatre a library—an inn—a pump—and a Post-office. Tradition tells of a "Little Winglebury" down some cross-road about two miles off; and as a square mass of dirty paper, supposed to have been origi nally intended for a letter, with certain tremulous characters inscribed thereon, in which a lively imagination might trace a remote resemblance to the word "Lit tle," was once stuck up to be owned in the sunny window of the Great Winglebury Post-office, from which it only disappeared when it fell to pieces with dust and extreme old age, there would appear to be some foundation for the legend. Common belief is inclined to bestow the name upon a little hole at the end of a muddy lane about a couple of miles long, colonized by one wheelwright, four paupers, and a beer-shop; but even this au thority, slight as it is, must be regarded with extreme suspicion, inasmuch as the inhabitants of the hole aforesaid concur in opining that it never had any name at all, from the earliest ages down to the present day. The Winglebury Arms in the centre of the High-street, opposite the small building with the big clock, is the principal inn of Great Winglebury—the commercial inn, posting-house, and excise-office; the "Blue" house at every election, and the Judges' house at every assizes. It is the head-quarters of the Gentlemen's Whist Club of Winglebury Blues (so called in opposition to the Gentlemen's Whist Club of Winglebury Buffs, held at the other house, a little further down); and whenever a juggler, or wax-work man, or concert-giver, takes Great Winglebury in his circuit, it is immediately placarded all over the town that Mr. So-and-so, "trusting to that liberal support which the inhabitants of Great Winglebury have long been so liberal in bestowing, has at a great expense engaged the elegant and commodious assembly-rooms, attached to the Winglebury Arms." The house is a large one, with a red brick and stone front; a pretty spacious hall ornamented with evergreen plants, terminates in a perspective view of the bar, and a glass case, in which are displayed a choice variety of delicacies ready for dressing, to catch the eye of a new-comer the moment he enters, and excite his appetite to the highest possible pitch. Opposite doors lead to the "coffee" and "commercial" rooms; and a great wide, rambling staircase,-three stairs and a landing-four stairs and another landing-one step and another landing-half a dozen stairs and another landing-and so on-conducts to galleries of bedrooms, and labyrinths of sitting-rooms, denominated" private," where you may enjoy yourself as privately as you can in any place where some bewildered being or other walks into your room every five minutes by mistake, and then walks out again, to open all the doors along the gallery till he finds his own. in the zenith of its dulness, and, with the 66 66 "Lady in number twenty-five," screamed the landlady.—" Thomas!" "Yes, ma'am." "Letter just been left for the gentleman in number nineteen.-Boots at the Lion left it.-No answer." "Letter for you, sir," said Thomas, depositing the letter on number nineteen's table. "For me?" said number nineteen, turning from the window, out of which he had been surveying the scene we have just described. Such is the Winglebury Arms at this "Yes, sir, (waiters always speak in day, and such was the Winglebury Arms hints, and never utter complete sentences) some time since-no matter when-two-yes, sir,-Boots at the Lion, sir-Bar, or three minutes before the arrival of the sir-Missis said number nineteen, sir→ London stage. Four horses with cloths Alexander Trott, Esq., sir?-Your card on-change for a coach-were standing at the bar, sir, I think, sir?" quietly at the corner of the yard, surrounded by a listless group of post-boys in shiny hats and smock frocks, engaged in discussing the merits of the cattle; half a dozen ragged boys were standing a little apart, listening with evident interest to the conversation of these worthies; and a few loungers were collected round the horse-trough, awaiting the arrival of the coach. The day was hot and sunny, the town "My name is Trott," replied number nineteen, breaking the seal. "You may go, waiter." The waiter pulled down the window-blind, and then pulled it up again for a regular waiter must do something before he leaves the room-adjusted the glasses on the sideboard, brushed a place which was not dusty, rubbed his hands very hard, walked stealthily to the door, and evaporated. There was evidently something in the contents of the letter of a nature, if not wholly unexpected, certainly extremely disagreeable. Mr. Alexander Trott laid it down and took it up again, and walked about the room on particular squares of the carpet, and even attempted, though very unsuccessfully, to whistle an air. It wouldn't do. He threw himself into a chair and read the following epistle aloud: "Blue Lion and Stomach-warmer, Great Winglebury, "Wednesday Morning. "SIR, "Immediately on discovering your intentions, I left our counting-house, and followed you. I know the purport of journey: that journey shall never be completed. your "I have no friend here just now, on whose secrecy I can rely. This shall be no obstacle to my revenge. Neither shall Emily Brown be exposed to the mercenary solicitations of a scoundrel, odious in her eyes, and contemptible in everybody else's: nor will I tamely submit to the clandestine attacks of a base umbrella-maker. "Sir,-from Great Winglebury Church, a footpath leads through four meadows to a retired spot known to the townspeople as Stiffun's Acre (Mr. Trott shuddered). I shall be waiting there alone, at twenty minutes before six o'clock to-morrow morning. Should I be disappointed of seeing you there, I will do myself the pleasure of calling with a horsewhip. "HORACE HUNTER. 66 Desperate-minded villain! I knew how it would be!" ejaculated the terrified Trott. "I always told father, that once start me on this expedition, and Hunter would pursue me like the wandering Jew. It's bad enough as it is, to marry with the old people's commands, and without the girl's consent; but what will Emily think of me, if I go down there, breathless with running away from this infernal salamander? What shall I do? What can I do? If I go back to the city, I'm disgraced for ever-lose the girl, and what's more lose the money too. Even if I did go on to the Brown's by the coach, Hunter would be after me in a post-chaise; and if I go to this place, this Stiffun's Acre, (another shudder) I'm as good as dead. I've seen him hit the man at the Pall-mall shooting gallery, in the second button-hole of the waistcoat five times out of every six, and when he didn't hit him there, he hit him in the head." And with this consolatory reminiscence, Mr. Alexander Trott again ejaculated, "What shall I do?" Long and weary were his reflections as burying his face in his hands, he sat ruminating on the best course to be pursued. His mental direction-post pointed to London. He thought of "the govern or's'anger, and the loss of the fortune which the paternal Brown had promised the paternal Trott his daughter should contribute to the coffers of his son. Thet. the words "To Brown's" were legibly inscribed on the said direction-post, but Ho race Hunter's denunciation rung in his ears; last of all it bore, in red letters, the words, "To Stiffun's Acre;" and then Mr. Alexander Trott decided on adopting a plan which he presently matured. First and foremost he despatched the under-boots to the Blue Lion and Stomachwarmer, with a gentlemanly note to Mr. Horace Hunter, intimating that he thirsted for his destruction, and would do himself the pleasure of slaughtering him next morning without fail. He then wrote another letter, and requested the attendance of the other boots-for they kept a pair. A modest knock at the room-door was heard-"Come in," said Mr. Trott. A man thrust in a red head with one eye in," brought in the body and legs to which in it, and being again desired to "come the head belonged, and a fur cap which belonged to the head. cantly, as if he had some good reason to cious waiters, to the door of number remember it. twenty-five. "Oh! I see," responded the rig'lar, with a knowing wink, but without evincing the slightest disinclination to undertake the charge-"I see-bit o' sving, eh!" and his one eye wandered round the room as if in quest of a dark lantern and phosphorus-box. "But I say," he continued, recalling the eye from its search, and bringing it to bear on Mr. Trott-"I say, he's a lawyer, our mayor, and insured in the County. If you've a spite agen him, you'd better not burn his house down -blessed if I don't think it would be the greatest favour you could do him." And he chuckled inwardly. If Mr. Alexander Trott had been in any other situation, his first act would have been to kick the man down stairs by deputy; or, in other words, to ring the bell, and desire the landlord to take his boots off. He contented himself, however, with doubling the fee and explaining that the letter merely related to a breach of the peace. The top-boots retired, solemnly pledged to secrecy; and Mr. Alexander Trott sat down to a fried sole, maintenon cutlet, Madeira, and sundries, with much greater composure than he had experienced since the receipt of Horace Hunter's letter of defiance. The lady who alighted from the London | coach had no sooner been installed in number twenty-five, and made some alteration in her travelling-dress, than she indited a note to Joseph Overton, esquire, solicitor, and mayor of Great Winglebury, requesting his immediate attendance on private business of paramount importance —a summons which that worthy functionary lost no time in obeying; for after sundry openings of his eyes, divers ejaculations of "Bless me!" and other manifestations of surprise, he took his broadbrimmed hat from its accustomed peg in his little front office, and walked briskly down the High-street to the Winglebury Arms; through the hall and up the staircase of which establishment he was ushered by the landlady, and a crowd of offi "Show the gentleman in," said the stranger lady, in reply to the foremost waiter's announcement. The gentleman was shown in accordingly. The lady rose from the sofa; the mayor advanced a step from the door, and there they both paused for a minute or two, looking at one another as if by mutual consent. buxom richly dressed female of about The mayor saw before him a forty; and the lady looked upon a sleek man about ten years older, in drab shorts and continuations, black coat, neckloth, and gloves. "Miss Julia Manners!" exclaimed the mayor at length, "you astonish me." That's very unfair of you, Overton," replied Miss Julia, " for I have known you long enough not to be surprised at any thing you do, and you might extend equal courtesy to me.' "But to run away-actually run away with a young man !" remonstrated the mayor. You would not have me actually run away with an old one, I presume," was the cool rejoinder. "And then to ask me-me-of all the people in the world-a man of my age and appearance-mayor of the town-to promote such a scheme !" pettishly ejaculated Joseph Overton; throwing himself into an arm-chair, and producing Miss Julia's letter from his pocket, as if to corroborate the assertion that he had been asked. "Now, Overton," replied the lady, impatiently, "I want your assistance in the matter, and I must have it. In the lifetime of that poor old dear, Mr. Cornberry, who-who-" "Who was to have married you, and didn't, because he died first; and who left you his property unencumbered with the addition of himself," suggested the mayor, in a sarcastic tone. 66 Well," replied Miss Julia, reddening slightly, "in the life-time of the poor old dear, the property had the encumbrance of your management; and all I will say of that is, that I only wonder it didn't die of consumption instead of its master. You helped yourself then :-help me now." Mr. Joseph Overton was a man of the world, and an attorney; and as certain indistinct recollections of an odd thousand pounds or two, appropriated by mistake, passed across his mind, he hemmed deprecatingly, smiled blandly, remained silent for a few seconds; and finally inquired, "What do you wish me to do? |