he faith of a man; indeed,
I'm satisfied now; time to give up;" and the Corporal began to disjoint
his rod.

"Ah, Sir!" said he, with a half sigh, "a pretty river this, don't mean
to say it is not; but the river Lea for my money. You know the Lea?--not
a morning's walk from Lunnun. Mary Gibson, my first sweetheart, lived
by the bridge,--caught such a trout there by the by!--had beautiful
eyes--black, round as a cherry--five feet eight without shoes--might
have listed in the forty-second."

"Who, Bunting!" said Walter smiling, "the lady or the trout?"

"Augh!--baugh!--what? Oh, laughing at me, your honour, you're welcome,
Sir. Love's a silly thing--know the world now--have not fallen in love
these ten years. I doubt--no offence, Sir, no offence--I doubt whether
your honour and Miss Ellinor can say as much."

"I and Miss Ellinor!--you forge yourself strangely, Bunting," said
Walter, colouring with anger.

"Beg pardon, Sir, beg pardon--rough soldier--lived away from the world
so long, words slipped out of my mouth--absent without leave."

"But why," said Walter, smothering or conquering his vexation,--"why
couple me with Miss Ellinor? Did you imagine that we,--we were in love
with each other?"

"Indeed, Sir, and if I did, 'tis no more than my neighbours imagine
too."

"Humph! your neighbours are very silly, then, and very wrong."

"Beg pardon, Sir, again--always getting askew. Indeed some did say
it was Miss Madeline, but I says,--says I,--'No! I'm a man of the
world--see through a millstone; Miss Madeline's too easy like; Miss
Nelly blushes when he speaks;'scarlet is love's regimentals--it was ours
in the forty-second, edged with yellow--pepper and salt pantaloons! For
my part I think,--but I've no business to think, howsomever--baugh!"

"Pray what do you think, Mr. Bunting? Why do you hesitate?"

"'Fraid of offence--but I do think that Master Aram--your honour
understands--howsomever Squire's daughter too great a match for such as
he!"

Walter did not answer; and the garrulous old soldier, who had been
the young man's playmate and companion since Walter was a boy; and
was therefore accustomed to the familiarity with which he now spoke,
continued, mingling with his abrupt prolixity an occasional shrewdness
of observation, which shewed that he was no inattentive commentator on
the little and quiet world around him.

"Free to confess, Squire Walter, that I don't quite like this larned
man, as much as the re