p with him to the top of the
church-steeple.

The monk roared, and screamed, and swore against his brother; but it
was of no avail: Sir Roger smiled kindly on him, and said, "Do not
fret, brother; it must have come to this in a year or two."

And he flew alongside of Mercurius to the steeple-top: _but this time
the devil had not his tail round his neck_. "I will let thee off thy
bet," said he to the demon; for he could afford, now, to be generous.

"I believe, my lord," said the demon, politely, "that our ways
separate here." Sir Roger sailed gaily upwards: while Mercurius having
bound the miserable monk faster than ever, he sunk downwards to earth,
and perhaps lower. Ignatius was heard roaring and screaming as the
devil dashed him against the iron spikes and buttresses of the
church.

THE PAINTER'S BARGAIN

BY WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY

Simon Gambouge was the son of Solomon Gambouge; and as all the world
knows, both father and son were astonishingly clever fellows at their
profession. Solomon painted landscapes, which nobody bought; and Simon
took a higher line, and painted portraits to admiration, only nobody
came to sit to him.

As he was not gaining five pounds a year by his profession, and had
arrived at the age of twenty, at least, Simon determined to better
himself by taking a wife,--a plan which a number of other wise men
adopt, in similar years and circumstances. So Simon prevailed upon a
butcher's daughter (to whom he owed considerable for cutlets) to quit
the meat-shop and follow him. Griskinissa--such was the fair
creature's name--"was as lovely a bit of mutton," her father said, "as
ever a man would wish to stick a knife into." She had sat to the
painter for all sorts of characters; and the curious who possess any
of Gambouge's pictures will see her as Venus, Minerva, Madonna, and in
numberless other characters: Portrait of a lady--Griskinissa; Sleeping
Nymph--Griskinissa, without a rag of clothes, lying in a forest;
Maternal Solicitude--Griskinissa again, with young Master Gambouge,
who was by this time the offspring of their affections.

The lady brought the painter a handsome little fortune of a couple of
hundred pounds; and as long as this sum lasted no woman could be more
lovely or loving. But want began speedily to attack their little
household; baker's bills were unpaid; rent was due, and the reckless
landlord gave no quarter; and, to crown the whole, her father,
unnatural butche