at
Philipsburg, an account of Spanish outrages at sea, or mayhap the story
of a marvelous beast, half-tiger, half-wolf, reported to be running wild
in France. The other gentlemen, waiting till the mail-bags were opened,
listened and commented; while one or two of the squires, and a shabby,
disreputable-looking minor canon made each notable name the occasion of
a toast, whether of health to his majesty's friends or confusion to his
foes. A squabble, as to whether the gallant Berwick should be reckoned
as an honest Frenchman or as a traitor Englishman, was interrupted by
the Major's entrance, and the congratulations on his recovery.

One of the squires inquired after his daughters, and pronounced the
little one with the outlandish name was becoming a belle, and would be
the toast of the neighbourhood, a hint of which the topers were not slow
to take advantage, while one of the guests at the recent party observed,
"Young Belamour seemed to be of that opinion."

"May it be so," said the Canon, "that were a step to the undoing of a
great wrong."

"Mr. Scrivener will tell you, sir, that there was no justice in the eye
of the law," said the Major.

"_Summum jus, summa injuria_," quoted, _sotto voce_, Mr. Arden, a minor
canon who, being well born, scholarly, scientific and gentlemanly,
occupied a middle place between his colleagues and the grandees. He was
not listened to. Each knot of speakers was becoming louder in debate,
and Dr. Boltby's voice was hardly heard when he announced that a rain of
blood had fallen on the Macgillicuddy mountains in Ireland, testified to
by numerous respectable Protestant witnesses, and attributable, either
to the late comet, or to the Pretender.

At that moment the letters were brought in by the postman, and each
recipient had--not without murmurs--to produce his purse and pay heavily
for them. There were not many. The Doctor had two, Mr. Arden one, Mr.
Scrivener no less than five, but of them two were franked, and a
franked letter was likewise handed over to Major DeLavie, with the word
"Aresfield" written in the corner.

"From my Lady," said an unoccupied neighbour.

"Aye, aye," said the Major, putting it into his pocket, being by no
means inclined to submit the letter to the general gaze.

"A good omen," said Canon Boltby, looking up from his paper. And
the Major smiled in return, put a word or two into the discussion on
affairs, and then, as soon as he thought he could take leave wit