company of "winkles," not above suspicion, in
a pint measure, the net profits proved insufficient.
From fruit and fish to "creases," from
"creases" to groundsel, from groundsel to
anything that could provide a meal, Job had sunk
into the man I found him, when the necessity
of procuring some wasp-grubs for bait led to
our introduction and subsequent intimacy.

I had not known him long, when a curious
event startled the whole village. The deceased
barrow reappeared! It had been discovered
in the heart of a clump of juniper-bushes, and
(let psychologists explain the coincidence)
mutilated precisely as represented in Stephen
Brown's dream. How it got there was still a
mystery, for the barrow was as inscrutable as
Job, and returned to its usual habits as if
nothing had occurred, frequently meeting the man
it had ruined in the public ways. On these
occasions Job would glare at it as if it were a
deadly enemy, and mutter between his clenched
teeth phrases which it would be a mistake to
describe as benevolent.

The good thoughts of the world, once
forfeited, are not easily regained; nevertheless,
there is, in our beloved land, a sort of "follow-
my-leader"-ship, especially if that leader be a
person of quality, which sometimes repairs a
wrong. Job's case met with much sympathy
from the leading Browns of the place. It was,
at least, clear that he had not stolen the barrow
for the lucre of gain. Under the circumstances,
it was proposed to raise a small compensatory
subscription—a Brown Consolation Testimonial
—by the aid of which he might recommence
business on a better scale than formerly. To
crown all, the haughty fishmonger, whose
"Dorter" had given him a good deal of trouble,
made the most flattering advances to Job, even
hinting at the possibility of a future partnership,
which (it appeared) Miss Spratt was, on
her part, not disinclined to make a present one.

To the unspeakable amazement of everybody,
Mr. Brown haughtily declined these gifts of
fortune. Yes. Though, as he declared, he was
so down in the world that he slep', as often as
not, under a hayrick; though he had but one
pair o' trousers in the world, and they was in
holes; though the werry hat he wore was took
in exchange from a scarecrow, 'cos hisn (the
scarecrow's) was better in the brim; still, he,
Job (improperly styled Barrer) Brown, would
be (something through which the editor would
infallibly strike his pen)—d if he would either
accept alms in exchange for his good name, or
marry the false-hearted jade who was prepared
to wed with his prosperity, though she had jilted
and deserted him in his day of trial.

The Job Browns of low life are sufficiently
rare to justify (I hope) the space I have
given to the simple story of my friend
"Barrer."

How and why it was that Browns assembled,
and, to this hour, continue to assemble, at
Brownham, is a study for the antiquary as well
as the philosopher. The parish archives teem
with Browns, even to times so remote that the
registers have become undecipherable. Every
such coincidence must be traceable, however,
to some especial cause. There dwells on
Banstead and on Leatherhead Downs a very pretty
and peculiar snail, whose presence there, and
nowhere else, for a long time puzzled the
observant naturalist. It was, at length, revealed
that, some generations since, a wealthy lady
was directed by her physicians to take up her
residence in those uplands, and, when the health-
renewing breezes had restored to her vigour
and appetite, to appease the latter by swallowing,
among other tilings, a small esculent member
of the snail family, whereof they kept her
supplied in such abundance that the overplus
were set at liberty to colonise the downs in the
manner above mentioned.

Encouraged by this fact, I pursued my search
so far as to unearth, among the parish records,
the remnant of an ancient deed in sufficient
preservation to indicate that a certain Dame
Marjory Bevil Brown had established a "dole,"
or distribution of "bread and flesh," on market-
days, to every applicant, of what condition
soever, bearing the name of the beneficent
donor.

Clanship itself has done no more.

In No. 443, for October the 19th, will be commenced a
NEW SERIAL STORY by the Author of "BELLA DONNA,"
             "NEVER FORGOTTEN," &c., entitled
                           THE DEAR GIRL.
   To be continued from Week to Week until completed
                            in Four Months.

                      A NEW SERIAL STORY,
                       BY WILKIE COLLINS,
            Will also soon appear in these pages.

      On Thursday, 12th December, will be published
                                      THE
       EXTRA DOUBLE NUMBER FOR CHRISTMAS,
                             Written entirely
                     BY CHARLES DICKENS
                      AND WILKIE COLLINS.