I am well acquainted. Into some of
those Skins I have been compelled to Jump, in
the exercise of my profession, at former periods
of my career. Others are still in the condition of
new dresses, and remain to be tried on. The
Skin which will exactly fit us, originally clothed
the bodies of a family named Bygrave. I am in
Mr. Bygrave's skin at this moment—and it fits
without a wrinkle. If you will oblige me by
slipping into Miss Bygrave (Christian name,
Susan); and if you will afterwards push Mrs.
Wragge—anyhow; head foremost if you like—
into Mrs. Bygrave (Christian name, Julia), the
transformation will be complete. Permit me
to inform you that I am your paternal uncle.
My worthy brother was established, twenty
years ago, in the mahogany and logwood trade
at Belize, Honduras. He died in that place;
and is buried on the south-west side of the
local cemetery, with a neat monument, of
native wood carved by a self-taught negro artist.
Nineteen months afterwards, his wife died of
apoplexy at a boarding-house in Cheltenham.
She was supposed to be the most corpulent
woman in England; and was accommodated on
the ground floor of the house in consequence
of the difficulty of getting her up and down
stairs. You are her only child; you have been
under my care since the sad event at Cheltenham;
you are twenty years old on the second of
August next; and, corpulence excepted, you are
the living image of your mother. I trouble you
with these specimens of my intimate knowledge
of our new family Skin, to quiet your mind on
the subject of future inquiries. Trust to me and
my Books to satisfy any amount of inquiry. In
the mean time, write down our new name and
address, and see how they strike you:—'Mr.
Bygrave, Mrs. Bygrave, Miss Bygrave; North
Shingles Villa, Aldborough.' Upon my life, it
reads remarkably well!

"The last detail I have to communicate refers
to my acquaintance with Mrs Lecount.

"We met yesterday, in the grocer's shop
here. Keeping my ears open, I found that
Mrs. Lecount wanted a particular kind of tea,
which the man had not got, and which he believed
could not be procured any nearer than
Ipswich. I instantly saw my way to beginning
an acquaintance, at the trifling expense of a
journey to that nourishing city. 'I have business,
to-day, in Ipswich,' I said, 'and I propose
returning to Aldborough (if I can get back in
time) this evening. Pray allow me to take your
order for the tea, and to bring it back with my
own parcels.' Mrs. Lecount politely declined
giving me the trouble—I politely insisted on
taking it. We fell into conversation. There is
no need to trouble you with our talk. The
result of it on my mind is—that Mrs. Lecount's
one weak point, if she has such a thing at all, is
a taste for science, implanted by her deceased
husband the Professor. I think I see a chance
here, of working my way into her good graces,
and casting a little needful dust into those handsome
black eyes of hers. Acting on this idea,
when I purchased the lady's tea at Ipswich, I
also bought on my own account that far-famed
pocket manual of knowledge, 'Joyce's Scientific
Dialogues.' Possessing, as I do, a quick memory
and boundless confidence in myself, I propose
privately inflating my new skin with as much
ready-made science as it will hold, and presenting
Mr. Bygrave to Mrs. Lecount's notice in the character
of the most highly informed man she has
met with since the Professor's death. The necessity
of blindfolding that woman (to use your own
admirable expression) is as clear to me as to you.
If it is to be done in the way I propose, make
your mind easy—Wragge, inflated by Joyce, is
the man to do it.

"You now have my whole budget of news. Am
I, or am I not, worthy of your confidence in me?
I say nothing of my devouring anxiety to know
what your objects really are—that anxiety will
be satisfied when we meet. Never yet, my dear
girl, did I long to administer a productive pecuniary
Squeeze to any human creature, as I
long to administer it to Mr. Noel Vanstone. I
say no more. Verbum sap. Pardon the pedantry
of a Latin quotation, and believe me,

"Entirely yours,

"HORATIO WRAGGE.

"P.S.—I await my instructions, as you requested.
You have only to say whether I shall
return to London for the purpose of escorting
you to this place—or whether I shall wait here
to receive you. The house is in perfect order—
the weather is charming—and the sea is as smooth
as Mrs. Lecount's apron. She has just passed
the window; and we have exchanged bows. A
sharp woman, my dear Magdalen—but Joyce and
I together may prove a trifle too much for her."

XIII.

[Extract from the East Suffolk Argus.]

"ALDBOROUH.—We notice with pleasure the
arrival of visitors to this healthful and far-famed
watering-place, earlier in the season than usual
during the present year. Esto perpetua is all we
have to say.

" VISITORS' LIST.—Arrivals since our last.
North Shingles Villa—Mrs. Bygrave; Miss
Bygrave."

PUNCH IN INDIA.

PUNCH in India. The idea seems unpromising.
A professed jester must surely be out of place
among a people who have but little turn for
comedy. The Asiatic temperament is solemn,
and finds no enjoyment in fun for its own sake.
A Bengalee or an Hindustanee can laugh at
what is ridiculous; but his laughter is contemptuous,
and it may be malignant. It knows
nothing of the loving quality of humour. For
such people, Punch must be libellous and cruel,
to the outrage of all law and humanity. Look,
too, at the incongruity of the thing. Fancy
Punch among palm-trees and palaces all domes
and minarets, and going about in a palanquin.