ance of a curricle and a donkey-cart within the gates of
Beckley Court, produced a sensation among the men of the lower halls,
and a couple of them rushed out, with the left calf considerably in
advance, to defend the house from violation. Toward the curricle
they directed what should have been a bow, but was a nod. Their joint
attention was then given to the donkey-cart, in which old Tom Cogglesby
sat alone, bunchy in figure, bunched in face, his shrewd grey eyes
twinkling under the bush of his eyebrows.

'Oy, sir--you! my man!' exclaimed the tallest of the pair, resolutely.
'This won't do. Don't you know driving this sort of conveyance slap
along the gravel 'ere, up to the pillars, 's unparliamentary? Can't be
allowed. Now, right about!'

This address, accompanied by a commanding elevation of the dexter hand,
seemed to excite Mr. Raikes far more than Old Tom. He alighted from
his perch in haste, and was running up to the stalwart figure, crying,
'Fellow!' when, as you tell a dog to lie down, Old Tom called out, 'Be
quiet, Sir!' and Raikes halted with prompt military obedience.

The sight of the curricle acting satellite to the donkey-cart staggered
the two footmen.

'Are you lords?' sang out Old Tom.

A burst of laughter from the friends of Mr. Raikes, in the curricle,
helped to make the powdered gentlemen aware of a sarcasm, and one with
no little dignity replied that they were not lords.

'Oh! Then come and hold my donkey.'

Great irresolution was displayed at the injunction, but having consulted
the face of Mr. Raikes, one fellow, evidently half overcome by what
was put upon him, with the steps of Adam into exile, descended to the
gravel, and laid his hand on the donkey's head.

'Hold hard!' cried Old Tom. 'Whisper in his ear. He'll know your
language.'

'May I have the felicity of assisting you to terra firma?' interposed
Mr. Raikes, with the bow of deferential familiarity.

'Done that once too often,' returned Old Tom, jumping out. 'There.
What's the fee? There's a crown for you that ain't afraid of a live
donkey; and there 's a sixpenny bit for you that are--to keep up your
courage; and when he's dead you shall have his skin--to shave by.'

'Excellent!' shouted Raikes.

'Thomas!' he addressed a footman, 'hand in my card. Mr. John Feversham
Raikes.'

'And tell my lady, Tom Cogglesby's come,' added the owner of that name.

We will follow Tom Cogglesby, as he chooses to be called.

Lady Jocelyn r