hand. I wonder what's inside it," she added, trying to peep under the folds. "How provoking! I can't make out a word. Yes, I can. There's a capital J. Oh! I see-its only from a John. I don't care about it. You may take it back."

"Very well, my dear," Jonas replied, putting it into the table-drawer, and locking it up. "There it rests till Frank comes for it."

"And you won't tell me the secret ?"

"Don't press me, I beg. I know what I know. And that's enough to settle Frank, if he makes any pretension to the Flitch. That dainty dish is reserved for us, Nelly. By the marry maskins! we won't allow any interlopers. Oddslife! how I wish the eventful day were come on which we could claim it. What a grand sight it will be! What crowds will throng to the village from all parts-for I've already given notice of my intention to Abel Roper the steward, and he will cause it to be proclaimed in open court, so that all the world will know it, and all the world will of course come to see us-for it is a sight not to be witnessed elsewhere. The Lord of the Manor, and Mr. Roper, the Steward, and the officers with their white wands, and the Vicar in his cassock and bands; and the Beadle with his staff, and the drummers and the fifers will all be ready to receive us at the door of the old Priory. And there will be the Jury of Bachelors and Maidens, six of each, to decide upon the justice of our claim. And there will be the Flitch of Bacon itself ready to be delivered. The church bells.will ring joyfully, and the musicians play lively tunes to welcome our arrival. Then we shall march up to the Priory, dressed in our best, and passing through the crowd, which will draw aside respectfully, to allow us passage, we shall enter the porch, and kneel down upon the stones. Uncommonly sharp stones they are, Nelly, for I've tried them, and therefore, my dear, we'll take the precaution of having our knees well padded. Mr. Roper will then, with all due solemnity, pronounce the Oath, as follows:

"Don't trouble yourself to repeat it, dearest. I know it perfectly." Suppose it uttered, then. Profound silence has of course prevailed during this part of the ceremony. But as we arise to receive our prize, the music strikes up again, the bells ring forth their loudest peals, and shouts from the assembled crowd rend the air. The ancient arm-chair will then be brought forth. We shall enter it. I sitting on the right, and you on the left."

66

Exactly the reverse, ducky,—you on the left,

and I on the right."

"No such thing I tell you, Mrs. Nettlebed. I've inquired the particlars and ought to know."

"You may know what you please, Mr. Nettlebed. But I sit on the right, if I sit there at all."

66

Well, well-my dear, that's not material. I dare say it can be managed. We are seated together somehow; and the Procession sets forth, headed by a man carrying the Flitch. It is borne aloft on a tall pole that all may see it. Then follow the musicians strumming away; then the Lord of the Manor and his attendants with the Vicar."

"Lord bless us! I fancy I see him! How his fat reverence will waddle along, and mop his round face, if it happens to be a hot day! And how he will stare at me, to be sure."

Everybody will stare at you, Nelly. You'll be the observed of all

observers,' as the poet says.

But to go on." After his reverence we shall come; borne on the shoulders of six able-bodied men, and seated together as I have described."

"But you haven't settled how we are to sit ?"

"Oh yes, I have. How elated we shall feel as we look around, and gaze on the shouting crowds, the little boys on the trees, and the country folk in the waggons and carts."

"I shall be thinking of the fine company in the coaches. I don't care about trumpery in carts, and little boys on hedges and gates. I dare say it will be a pretty sight-especially if some of the handsome young squires are there."

"Hang the handsome young squires! Let me proceed? After us will come the Jury. The six maidens on my side, and the bachelors on yours.'

دو

“That won't do at all. If the bachelors come behind me, I shan't see them."

"And what matters it if you don't ?"

"A great deal. It must be as I wish, or I take no part in it; that's certain."

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Well, I don't mind giving up any little point so that my principal aim is attained. So the bachelors shall follow as you desire. In this way we shall be taken round the Priory, and to the Church, amid increasing crowds, and continued shouting, and so home-where we shall end the day in feasting, and revelry. By the marry maskins! it will be a grand day! I'm sure you'll do your best to bring it about. We must both be very cautious, and never give each other a cross look, or utter a cross word-before people. Ah! here's the Saffron Walden and Chelmsford waggon. I hear the jingling of the bells. I must go and see if any one alights from it. Recollect, my dear. Always keep watch upon yourself-before people."

III.

OF THE STRANGE GUEST WHO ARRIVED AT THE FLITCH.

JINGLE! jingle! jingle!

Blithe music make those tiny bells. No sound so pleasant. It awakens all the village, and the gossips issue forth to gaze at the huge lumbering waggon, as it moves slowly along, grinding the ice and frozen mud to powder. The powerful team that draw it are well shod, and keep their feet stoutly upon the slippery road. Six strong black horses; the leaders with bells on their collars, jingling merrily and tunefully. Children shout; dogs bark; and Ben the waggoner cracks his long whip. At length, the mighty vehicle stops at the Old Inn. The little bells are mute, unless one of the leaders of the team chances to snort and shake his mighty neck. Simultaneously with the stoppage Jonas Nettlebed and Tom Tapster issue from the porch. Carroty Dick is already there, attending to the horses, while Ben the waggoner informs the landlord, that he has got a customer for him: an old gentleman named Plot, whom he took up at Saffron Walden. "That's the name on his portmantle anyhow, so I s'pose it's his'n," Ben said-" he's a cur'ousish sort of chap, he is. There that's him a-callin' out."

"Here Dick-here Tom-go fetch the steps-and help the gentleman out," Jonas cried, as an elderly personage, wrapped in a large blue roquelaure, with his hands stuffed into a muff, a comforter round his throat, and an extra pair of woollen stockings drawn above his knees, got out of the waggon. And not without some difficulty, for his numerous wraps rather impeded his movements. However, he and his portmanteau were safely landed at last.

It then appeared that the old gentleman was lame-very lame. Perhaps he had 2 club foot, for his right leg was shorter than his left. He had a keen grey eye, and so far as could be seen of it, an irritablelooking countenance, and when he pulled down his comforter to speak to the landlord, there was a nervous twitching about the mouth, that confirmed the general expression of his face. His manner was testy, and his mode of speech interjectional and impatient. His first order was that some refreshments should be given to a soldier's wife and her children, inside the waggon, with whom he had travelled; and he would not enter the house till he had seen the injunction obeyed.

While Tom Tapster went for the ale and cold viands thus commanded, a young man crossed the road and walked briskly up to the landlord. He had a fowling-piece over his shoulder, and carried a pouch apparently well filled with game at his side. He was dressed in a green velveteen shooting-coat, and wore stout-laced boots, and buff leathern gaiters mounting above the knee. A broad-leaved hat covered his luxuriant brown locks. Above the middle height, remarkably well formed, with a light but athletic frame, he looked the very model of a gamekeeper. His countenance was frank and open, and manly in expression, as was his bearing altogether. At his heels a noble retriever followed.

"A Merry Christmas to you, Master Nettlebed," he said, “and a Happy New Year when it comes. This being the season for presents, I've ventured to bring you a couple of wild ducks for your own eating, and a woodcock for your dame," he added, taking the birds from his pouch, and offering them to Jonas.

own.

"The Compliments of the Season to you, Master Woodbine," the host replied; "and many thanks for the birds, on my wife's part, and on my But Oddslife! I've got a letter for you. Where is it? Oh, let me see-I locked it up in the table-drawer for safety. Ah! you're a sly rogue, Master Woodbine-a sly rogue-to have your letters addressed to me. I'll bring it you instantly."

"Don't give yourself the trouble, my good host," Frank Woodbine rejoined "I only wished to ascertain that the letter had arrived, for it is of importance, though not in the way you hint. I'll just step home and get rid of my dog and my gun, and then return for it. I've promised to meet Mr. Roper, the steward, at your house, on a matter of business this evening; and if he should arrive before me, you will pray him to await my coming."

So saying, the young gamekeeper shouldered his gun, and whistling to his dog was soon out of sight.

By this time the hungry family inside the waggon had disposed of their viands; the old gentleman had slipped a guinea into the poor woman's hands and received her heartfelt blessings in return; Ben the waggoner had drained his pot of ale, and promised to buy some ribands in Chelms

ford for pretty Peggy, the chambermaid, who came out to flirt with him; the long whip was cracked; the strong horses gave a vigorous pull; the huge vehicle was again in motion; and the little bells once more jingled tunefully and merrily, till the pleasant sound was lost in the distance.

Meanwhile, the host ushered the old gentleman into the house, and proceeded to relieve him of his roquelaure and some of his wraps. At the same time, Carroty Dick brought in the portmanteau, and laid it down near the table. Sure enough, there was the name, marked upon it in large characters-Dr. PLOT.

"Welcome, sir, welcome to the Dunmow Flitch," quoth Jonas, as he busied himself about the old gentleman-" welcome to the best inn in Essex; ay, though you pit against it the Cock and Pie at Colchester, the Razor and Hen at Harwich, or the Axe and Bottle at Braintree. By the marry maskins! none can compare with it.

Without fear I assert it, and make it my boast
That no one can meet with a civiller host,
Nor a hostess more buxom his sight to bewitch,
Than he'll find, if he halts at the sign of the FLITCH.

For I'm proud of my kitchen, I'm proud of my cellar,
I'm proud of my wife, as I frequently tell her;
And there is not in Essex a hostel more rich

In comfort, than that which is known as the FLITCH."

During the progress of this ditty the old gentleman manifested great impatience, and when it ended, he burst forth:

"Don't split my ears with your screeching, landlord. Fancy yourself a nightingale, I dare say; but you've more of the raven or the goose about you. Don't stare, man. Fetch me a glass of brandy-the oldest

and best you have."

Quite taken aback at the unexpected rebuff, Jonas proceeded to obey the order, while Dr. Plot limped towards the fire, and stood warming himself before it, till the brandy was brought him. The liquor seemed to please him, for he grunted forth something like an expression of satisfaction.

"Soft as silk and mild as milk :

"That'll do, sir, eh?" Jonas said. fifty year old, if it's a day, Why, sir, that brandy's part of the old stock. It came out of Sir Walter Fitzwalter's own cellar, and it must have been his father's, for the baronet was too stingy to buy a bottle."

"Humph!--give me another glass. Think I recollect the flavour." "Indeed, sir-then mayhap you were a friend of the family?"

"What's that to you, sir ?" the old gentleman exclaimed, rather fiercely. "How dare you put questions to me? But since you must know, you inquisitive fellow, I was a friend of the family-the family physicianDr. Plot. Did you ever hear of me ?-eh!"

"Can't say I have, sir-but I'm proud to make your acquaintance, doctor-extremely proud."

Hate flattery,

"Fudge! Nobody need be proud of knowing me. even from an innkeeper. Despise it, sir. Won't have it. Folks call me an eccentric man. Dare say I am. Consult my own convenience and tastes; not theirs. Came here in the waggon because I prefer it to a chaise, the stage-coach, or the post-horse. Better company, and

cheaper.

Shouldn't have met that soldier's wife and her brats in the coach. Cost me more, though, in the end-now I think of it." "A strange old gentleman, indeed!"

do to please you, sir?"

Jonas thought. "What can I

You're married you say ?"

"Please me-nothing. Yes, you can. "Married, sir-yes, sir," Jonas replied, wondering what was coming

next.

"Send your wife to me then. More sense than you have, I'll be sworn."

"Mrs. Nettlebed-Nelly, my dear, you're wanted," the host shouted. "Coming, my dear," Mrs. Nettlebed rejoined, as she issued from an inner chamber. "What's your pleasure, sir?" she added, dropping a curtsey to the old gentleman.

"My pleasure, madam-I have none," Plot replied, crustily. "Your will, then, sir ?" Nelly rejoined.

"I've neither will nor pleasure.

Mean to stay here for a few days. That is, if you give me a good bedroom and clean sheets, and make me comfortable."

"We've only one room disengaged, sir," Nelly replied, not much liking her customer-" and that's haanted.'

"Haanted!" he rejoined, mimicking her-"so much the better. I like a haunted room. Never saw a ghost in my life. Want to see one." "Perhaps, you may be gratified, sir," Nelly replied. "And since you have no objections on that score, we may manage to accommodate you." "It's the largest chamber in the house, sir, and has the best bed in it," Jonas interposed-"such an ancient piece of furniture; such a high tester; and such stiff old hangings. You'll fancy yourself in a hearse. It was a state bedstead I've heard say in Sir Walter's time, and his greatgrandfather may have slept in it for aught I know. It's more than we could though-eh, Nelly? We thought we saw a female figure come out of one of the closets, and glare at us.'

"I'm sure I saw it," Mrs. Nettlebed rejoined, "for it was bright moonlight, and the figure was as pale as any shroud. Jonas can't speak so positively, because he hid himself under the bed-clothes."

"Mere delusion-trick of fancy," Plot cried. "White figure-fudge! reflection of yourself in a glass-nothing more. Hobgoblin stories frighten children and women. Men laugh at them. Get ready the haunted room for me, ma'am. Make a good fire. Air the bed well, and I warrant me, I shall sleep soundly enough within it, in spite of the ghost-ha! ha!"

"I hope you may laugh in the same way to-morrow morning, sir," Nelly said. "But I expect otherwise."

"Never fear, ma'am-never fear. Harkye, landlord, who was the young fellow that gave you a woodcock for your wife?"

"A woodcock for me, Jonas? You never told me about it." "Dr. Plot's arrival put it out of my head, my dear. Tom Tapster put it in the larder with a couple of wild ducks, given us by Frank Woodbine."

"I thought it must be a present from Frank," Nelly cried. "A nice, dear fellow!"

"Don't praise him too much, my dear,-before people," Jonas whispered.

Jan.-VOL. XCVII. NO. CCCLXXXV.

C