found
him out."

"A' hard," replied Crackenfudge, "that he and you were on rather
intimate terms, and--"

"And so as being my companion, you considered him a fellow! Proceed,
Crackenfudgius."

"No, not at all; a' was thinkin' of makin' his acquaintance, and paying
some attention to him; that is, if a' could know who and what he is."

"And thou shalt know, my worthy mock magistrate. I am in a communicative
humor to-day, and know thou shalt."

"And what may his name be, pray, Mr. Fenton?" with a peculiar emphasis
on the Mr.

"Caution," said Fenton; "don't overdo the thing, I say, otherwise I am
silent as the grave. Heigh-ho! what put that in my head? Well, sir, you
shall know all you wish to know. In the first place, as to his name--it
is Harry Hedles. He was clerk to a toothbrush-maker in London, but it
seems he made a little too free with a portion of the brush money: he
accordingly brushed off to our celebrated Irish metropolis, ycleped
Dublin, where, owing to a tolerably good manner, a smooth English
accent, and a tremendous stock of assurance, he insinuated himself into
several respectable families as a man of some importance. Among others,
it is said that he has engaged the affections of a beautiful creature,
daughter and heiress to an Irish baronet, and that they are betrothed
to each other. But as to the name or residence of the baronet, O
Crackenfudgius, I am not in a condition to inform you--for this good
reason, that I don't know either myself."

"But is it a fair question, Mr. Fenton, to ask how you became acquainted
with all this?"

"How?" exclaimed Fenton, with a doughty but confident swagger;
"incredulous varlet, do you doubt the authenticity of my information? He
disclosed to me every word of it himself, and sought me out here for
the purpose of getting me to influence my friends, who, you distrustful
caitiff, are persons of rank and consequence, for the purpose of
bringing about a reconciliation between him and old Grinwell, the
toothbrush man, and having the prosecution stopped. Avaunt! now, begone!
This is all the information I can afford upon the subject of that stout
but gentlemanly impostor."

Crackenfudge, we should have said, was on horseback during the previous
dialogue, and no sooner had Fenton passed on, with a look of the
most dignified self-consequence on his thin and wasted, though rather
handsome features, than the candidate magistrate set spurs to his horse,
and with a singula