handle cold steel. But the less we think of the strife when we are in
the stall, the better for our pouches. And so I hope we shall hear no
more about it, until I get a ware of my own, when the more of ye that
like to talk of such matters the better ye will be welcome,--always
provided ye be civil customers, who pay on the nail, for as the saw
saith, 'Ell and tell makes the crypt swell.' For the rest, thanks are
due to this brave gentleman, Marmaduke Nevile, who, though the son of a
knight-banneret who never furnished less to the battle-field than fifty
men-at-arms, has condescended to take part and parcel in the sports of
us peaceful London traders; and if ever you can do him a kind turn--for
turn and turn is fair play--why, you will, I answer for it. And so
one cheer for old London, and another for Marmaduke Nevile. Here goes!
Hurrah, my lads!" And with this pithy address Nicholas Alwyn took off
his cap and gave the signal for the shouts, which, being duly performed,
he bowed stiffly to his companions, who departed with a hearty laugh,
and coming to the side of Nevile, the two walked on to a neighbouring
booth, where, under a rude awning, and over a flagon of clary, they were
soon immersed in the confidential communications each had to give and
receive.

CHAPTER III. THE TRADER AND THE GENTLE; OR, THE CHANGING GENERATION.

"No, my dear foster-brother," said the Nevile, "I do not yet comprehend
the choice you have made. You were reared and brought up with such
careful book-lere, not only to read and to write--the which, save the
mark! I hold to be labour eno'--but chop Latin and logic and theology
with Saint Aristotle (is not that his hard name?) into the bargain, and
all because you had an uncle of high note in Holy Church. I cannot say
I would be a shaveling myself; but surely a monk with the hope of
preferment is a nobler calling to a lad of spirit and ambition than
to stand out at a door and cry, 'Buy, buy,' 'What d'ye lack?' to spend
youth as a Flat-cap, and drone out manhood in measuring cloth, hammering
metals, or weighing out spices?"

"Fair and softly, Master Marmaduke," said Alwyn, "you will understand
me better anon. My uncle, the sub-prior, died,--some say of austerities,
others of ale,--that matters not; he was a learned man and a cunning.
'Nephew Nicholas,' said he on his death-bed, 'think twice before you tie
yourself up to the cloister; it's ill leaping nowadays in a sackcloth
bag. If a pious m