we walked the
last plank over the ditch, so I was not sorry to return good for evil
and lend him my note.

He stared somewhat sideways at me when the bag passed, but I bore it
with fortitude. I took particular notice that the crimson bag passed
along the front of our family pew at a very dilatory pace, and tarried
a good deal, as if reluctant to leave it. To and fro it passed in
front of my nose as if it contained something I should like to smell,
and at last moved away altogether. I was glad of that, because
it prevented my following the words of the hymn in my book, and,
unfortunately, it was one of those harvest hymns I did not know by
heart.

On our way home over the meadows, where the grasshoppers were
practising for the next day's sports, and were in high glee over
this harvest festival, Mr. Goodman seemed fidgety; whether
conscience-stricken for the Sabbath fraud he had practised upon me or
not, I could not say, but at last he asked how I liked their little
service.

I said it was quite large enough.

"You"--he paused--"you did not, I think"--another pause--"contribute
to our little gathering?"

"No," I said, "but it was not my fault; I lent you all I had. The
fund, however, will not suffer in the least, and you have the
satisfaction of having contributed the whole of our joint
pocket-money. It does not matter who the giver is so long as the fund
obtains it." I then diverted his mind with a story or two.

Cockburn, I said, was sitting next to Thesiger during a trial
before Campbell, Chief Justice, in which the Judge read some French
documents, and, being a Scotsman, it attracted a good deal of
attention. Cockburn, who was a good French scholar, was much annoyed
at the Chief Justice's pronunciation of the French language.

"He is murdering it," said he--"_murdering_ it!"

"No, my dear Cockburn," answered Thesiger, "he is not killing it, only
Scotching it."

Sir Alexander was at a little shooting-party with Bethell and his son,
one of whom shot the gamekeeper. The father accused the son of the
misadventure, while the son returned the compliment. Cockburn, after
some little time, asked the gamekeeper what was the real truth of the
unfortunate incident--who was the gentleman who had inflicted the
injury?

The gamekeeper, still smarting from his wounds, and forgetting the
respect due to the questioner, answered,--

"O Sir Alexander--d--n 'em, it was _both_!"

A remark made by Lord Young, the Scotch J