own master, and hers when he has had his share of wine; and
that's why she will never allow him to drink any."

Was it a wicked, or was it a noble and honourable thought which came
to us both at the same minute, to rescue Berry from his captivity? The
ladies, of course, will give their verdict according to their gentle
natures; but I know what men of courage will think, and by their jovial
judgment will abide.

We received, then, the three lost sheep back into our innocent fold
again with the most joyous shouting and cheering. We made Berry (who
was, in truth, nothing loth) order up I don't know how much more claret.
We obliged the Frenchman to drink malgre lui, and in the course of
a short time we had poor Whey in such a state of excitement, that he
actually volunteered to sing a song, which he said he had heard at some
very gay supper-party at Cambridge, and which begins:

"A pye sat on a pear-tree,
A pye sat on a pear-tree,
A pye sat on a pear-tree,
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, heigh-ho!"

Fancy Mrs. Berry's face as she looked in, in the midst of that
Bacchanalian ditty, when she saw no less a person than the Reverend
Lemuel Whey carolling it!

"Is it you, my dear?" cries Berry, as brave now as any Petruchio. "Come
in, and sit down, and hear Whey's song."

"Lady Pash is asleep, Frank," said she.

"Well, darling! that's the very reason. Give Mrs. Berry a glass, Jack,
will you?"

"Would you wake your aunt, sir?" hissed out madame.

"NEVER MIND ME, LOVE! I'M AWAKE, AND LIKE IT!" cried the venerable Lady
Pash from the salon. "Sing away, gentlemen!"

At which we all set up an audacious cheer; and Mrs. Berry flounced back
to the drawing-room, but did not leave the door open, that her aunt
might hear our melodies.

Berry had by this time arrived at that confidential state to which a
third bottle always brings the well-regulated mind; and he made a clean
confession to Cutler and myself of his numerous matrimonial annoyances.
He was not allowed to dine out, he said, and but seldom to ask his
friends to meet him at home. He never dared smoke a cigar for the life
of him, not even in the stables. He spent the mornings dawdling in
eternal shops, the evenings at endless tea-parties, or in reading
poems or missionary tracts to his wife. He was compelled to take physic
whenever she thought he looked a little pale, to change his shoes and
stockings whenever he came in from a walk. "Look here," said he,