s--ha!--ha!--ha!' Minns leaped from his seat as though he had
received the discharge from a galvanic battery.

'Come out, sir!--go out, hoo!' cried poor Augustus, keeping,
nevertheless, at a very respectful distance from the dog; having read of
a case of hydrophobia in the paper of that morning. By dint of great
exertion, much shouting, and a marvellous deal of poking under the tables
with a stick and umbrella, the dog was at last dislodged, and placed on
the landing outside the door, where he immediately commenced a most
appalling howling; at the same time vehemently scratching the paint off
the two nicely-varnished bottom panels, until they resembled the interior
of a backgammon-board.

'A good dog for the country that!' coolly observed Budden to the
distracted Minns, 'but he's not much used to confinement. But now,
Minns, when will you come down? I'll take no denial, positively. Let's
see, to-day's Thursday.--Will you come on Sunday? We dine at five, don't
say no--do.'

After a great deal of pressing, Mr. Augustus Minns, driven to despair,
accepted the invitation, and promised to be at Poplar-walk on the ensuing
Sunday, at a quarter before five to the minute.

'Now mind the direction,' said Budden: 'the coach goes from the
Flower-pot, in Bishopsgate-street, every half hour. When the coach stops
at the Swan, you'll see, immediately opposite you, a white house.'

'Which is your house--I understand,' said Minns, wishing to cut short the
visit, and the story, at the same time.

'No, no, that's not mine; that's Grogus's, the great ironmonger's. I was
going to say--you turn down by the side of the white house till you can't
go another step further--mind that!--and then you turn to your right, by
some stables--well; close to you, you'll see a wall with "Beware of the
Dog" written on it in large letters--(Minns shuddered)--go along by the
side of that wall for about a quarter of a mile--and anybody will show
you which is my place.'

'Very well--thank ye--good-bye.'

'Be punctual.'

'Certainly: good morning.'

'I say, Minns, you've got a card.'

'Yes, I have; thank ye.' And Mr. Octavius Budden departed, leaving his
cousin looking forward to his visit on the following Sunday, with the
feelings of a penniless poet to the weekly visit of his Scotch landlady.

Sunday arrived; the sky was bright and clear; crowds of people were
hurrying along the streets, intent on their different schemes of pleasure
for th