Marsh, all invaluable animals in their way, as
growers of wool and makers of early mature
fat mutton, priceless as crosses, we are content
to leave to the woolstapler and tallow-chandler.
The Downs, whether of Sussex, Hampshire, or
Shropshire origin, we should select in preference,
as meat, from native uplands, and not
from the counties where they are pampered
on roots, oil-cake, nut-cake, cotton-cake, and
pulse; but, for choice, give us the despised but
well-fed mountaineer. Last winter, a plump
three-year-old Herdwick wether, from the
mountains of Cumberland, that no Smithfield
Club judge would have looked at twice, formed
one of the glories of two great Christmas
dinners, where guests were present who had
dined at the best tables in Europe.

Taken for all in all, perhaps the pure Down,
suffered to reach three years, and properly fed,
makes as good mutton as any; but the black-
faced Scotchman, who has migrated to an
English park one year before his death, runs him
very hard. In a word, on mountains and uplands
only is first-rate mutton bred; but good
agriculture must come in for the feeding.

A word about the butcher, and the price
exacted for meat, must be reserved for a future
occasion.

OLD STORIES RE-TOLD.
THE GREAT STOCK EXCHANGE HOAX.

On a January evening in 1814, Lord Cochrane,
who had just been appointed flag-captain to the
Tonnant, a line-of- battle ship carrying the
pennant of his uncle, Admiral Sir Alexander
Cochrane, and bound to the North American station,
was dining with Mr. Cochrane Johnston,
another relative of his. At the quiet farewell party
there was also present Captain De Berenger,
a dashing foreign adventurer, who had held a
commission in the Duke of Cumberland's sharp-
shooters; and whom both the admiral and his
brother regarded as an accomplished man—-
a little pinched for money; but, in spite of his
neediness, a gallant officer, skilful as a contriver
of warlike projectiles, and a first-class musketry
instructor. This needy gentleman, of what nationality
was not very clear, had wheedled himself
into the good graces of the frank sailors: it had
probably been arranged that he should meet the
newly appointed flag-captain, and obtain interest,
to press his claims upon the Admiralty, which had
hitherto steadily refused to let him accompany
Sir Alexander. There was no time to lose, for the
shipwright was knocking the last trenails into
the side of the Tonnant, and her rigging was
all but up. The admiral had gone on already,
as the war with America was still raging, with
no immediate probability of peace. De Berenger
made great play at the hero of Basque roads.
He tried him with various baits; talked war,
and invention, and fire-ships, and rifles; aired all
his accomplishments, and displayed a chivalrous
eagerness for active service, which enlisted Lord
Cochrane's sympathies. Towards the end of
the evening, he attempted a coup de main; for
he asked Lord Cochrane to step aside for some
private conversation. He solicited Lord Cochrane
to take him with him in the Tonnant, in
any capacity whatever. He had given up all
hope of the Admiralty permitting his being
engaged, but he would take his chance of the
admiral's finding him employment at the station.
He handed to Cochrane, as credentials,
testimonials of the way in which he had performed
the duties of adjutant to the Duke of Cumberland's
riflemen, and others of a like character.
They were all laudatory and satisfactory. Cochrane
politely expressed his regret that he could
not possibly take him, unless the Admiralty
sanctioned it; adding kindly that he would
very gladly have consented to solicit the
Admiralty to reverse their decision, but for the fact
that he, of all living men, had the least influence
with them, and that his interference would
certainly put De Berenger in a position worse than
before. For some weeks after, Cochrane heard
no more of De Berenger.

In the mean time, things were getting worse
and worse with Captain De Berenger. Threadbare
dandies and needy projectors were his
chief associates. To them he sometimes darkly
hinted at a plan by which thousands of pounds
were soon to be thrown by him into the hands
of those distinguished friends of his of whom he
talked so much—- Lord Cochrane and Mr. Cochrane
Johnstone, on the latter of whom he called
daily. He had a plan for building a new Ranelagh
behind Allsop's-buildings; perhaps that might
be the scheme he meant? The Hon. Alexander
Murray, a gentleman who became very soon
afterwards an eminent racket-player in the
King's Bench, winked at this; but De
Berenger shook his head, smiled, and said
it was something far better than that. So
the friends of De Berenger merely pulled up
their somewhat soiled shirt-collars, and slapped
their boots with their sticks, quite confident that
the artful captain knew remarkably well what he
was about.

The scene now changes. About daybreak
of the 21st of February there was a loud knocking
and a calling for lights at the door of the
Ship Inn at Dover; a clamour almost as startling
as the ominous knocking at the south
entry that struck such terror to Macbeth. It
must be some traveller of enormous importance
—- runaway king or government courier with
despatches about Napoleon. The noise so
roused Mr. Marsh, who kept the Packet-Boat
opposite, that he ran across to help the Ship, and
ordered the waiter to follow with two candles.
There, in the passage of the Ship, stood a tall,
dark, military-looking man, in a grey great-coat,
with a scarlet uniform gleaming beneath it, and
on the breast of the uniform a resplendent star,
with some order hanging from it. He was in
a restless fever of excitement, and wanted a
post-chaise at once; but, before that, a swift
horse to carry an express to Admiral Foley, the
port-admiral at Deal. The coup de grace
had been struck at last; this officer had