rveying?"

"Lord help you!" said my uncle, "he's as innocent of mensuration as an
infant. Can't you spare Cutts?"

"Better than the other two, certainly."

"Well, then, we'll hand over Freddy to him; and let them amuse themselves
the best way they can. Cutts, you may do what you like for the next ten
days; but, remember, Gordon and Mackinnon are not to be disturbed on any
account. Now, good-by, and take care of yourselves."

The Saxon and I made ample use of the permission. We established our
headquarters at the Saracen in Shrewsbury, and went the pace for some days
at a hand-gallop. I can't help laughing, even now, at the consternation
into which South Wales was thrown by the re-appearance of Rebecca and her
daughters, who carried off, in one night, seven turnpike-gates. It was a
pity that the London journals should have been at the expense of sending
down special correspondents on that occasion; for I can bear personal
testimony to the fact, that no country could possibly be quieter. Even the
tollkeepers appeared to slumber with a tenfold torpedo power. A little
incident, however, soon occurred, which completely changed the nature of
my occupations.

I went, one day, to call upon a family who resided some miles from
Shrewsbury. It was a visit of ceremony; and I therefore considered it a
bore. Cutts, who was no lady's man, preferred waiting for me at a
neighbouring public-house; so I effected my _entree_ alone. I went in a
free-man; and came out, two hours afterwards, as complete a bond-slave as
ever hoed the sugar-canes of Cupid. A pair of laughing blue eyes, and the
prettiest lips in the universe, had undone me. Sweet Mary Morgan! yours
was a rapid conquest! and--you need not pinch my ears.

I went down to the inn in that state of pleasing bewilderment which
characterises the first stage of the amatory complaint. Cutts had got
tired in my absence; and, being rather in a pensive mood, had gone to the
church-yard with a quart of beer, where I found him copying the
inscriptions on the tombstones.

"What the devil kept you so long?" said the Saxon.

"Hold your tongue, Sacks! I have just seen the prettiest angel! Who on
earth can she be? No relation, I dare be sworn, of that fat old rascal
Owenson."

"Whew! that's the sort of thing, is it?" quoth Cutts. "What may be the
name of the divinity?"

"Mary Morgan."

"What? little Mary! Oh yes! I know her very well," said the Saxon. "She's
the daughter of the princi