ed
like a colonel on half-pay, and by his side a lady and a little boy
of twelve, whom the gentleman was cramming with an amazing quantity of
cherries and cakes. A stout old dame in a wonderful cap and ribands was
seated by the lady's side, and it was easy to see they were English, and
I thought I had already made their acquaintance elsewhere.

The younger of the ladies at last made a bow with an accompanying blush.

"Surely," said I, "I have the honour of speaking to Mrs. Ravenswing?"

"Mrs. Woolsey, sir," said the gentleman; "my wife has long since left
the stage:" and at this the old lady in the wonderful cap trod on my
toes very severely, and nodded her head and all her ribands in a most
mysterious way. Presently the two ladies rose and left the table, the
elder declaring that she heard the baby crying.

"Woolsey, my dear, go with your mamma," said Mr. Woolsey, patting the
boy on the head. The young gentleman obeyed the command, carrying off a
plate of macaroons with him.

"Your son is a fine boy, sir," said I.

"My step-son, sir," answered Mr. Woolsey; and added, in a louder voice,
"I knew you, Mr. Fitz-Boodle, at once, but did not mention your name
for fear of agitating my wife. She don't like to have the memory of old
times renewed, sir; her former husband, whom you know, Captain Walker,
made her very unhappy. He died in America, sir, of this, I fear"
(pointing to the bottle), "and Mrs. W. quitted the stage a year before I
quitted business. Are you going on to Wiesbaden?"

They went off in their carriage that evening, the boy on the box making
great efforts to blow out of the postilion's tasselled horn.

I am glad that poor Morgiana is happy at last, and hasten to inform
you of the fact. I am going to visit the old haunts of my youth at
Pumpernickel. Adieu.

Yours,

G. F.-B.

MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY.

CHAPTER I. THE FIGHT AT SLAUGHTER HOUSE.

I am very fond of reading about battles, and have most of Marlborough's
and Wellington's at my fingers' ends; but the most tremendous combat I
ever saw, and one that interests me to think of more than Malplaquet or
Waterloo (which, by the way, has grown to be a downright nuisance, so
much do men talk of it after dinner, prating most disgustingly about
"the Prussians coming up," and what not)--I say the most tremendous
combat ever known was that between Berry and Biggs the gown-boy, which
commenced in a certain place called Middle Briars, situated i