"But why do not the peasants make a
complaint to their real Seigneur?"

"Ah, sir, the Seigneur pockets his revenue,
—the payment is exact, and he is satisfied
In case of complaint, what will he do? He
will say to the complainant, 'Take yourself
off,—begone! If not, Sophron will know the
reason why. Make yourself scarce; otherwise,
he will settle your business, as he has
settled So-and-so's and So-and-So's.'"

I briefly told him what I had seen that
morning respecting Anthippe and his son.

"Well," said Anpadiste, "Sophron will
now devour the old man. He will suck the
marrow out of his bones. The elder will
address him in no better language than
blows of the fist. Poor man! five or six
years ago, he resisted Sophron about some
trifle, in the presence of others, and some
words passed between them which rankled
in the bourmister's heart. That was quite
enough. He began by annoying him; afterwards
he pressed him closer; and now he is
gnawing him to the very bone, execrable
scoundrel that he is!"

       RUINED BY RAILWAYS.

THE man was a tall, thin figure, dressed
in black, rather worn, but neatly brushed,
with an ill-washed white neckcloth. Over
all, he wore a shabby sort of camlet
cloak. He was continually busy making
calculations with a short stump of pencil on
the back of a bundle of papers. From time to
time he took snuff in a rapid nervous way,
from a once handsome, much worn Scotch box.

He said—and as he spoke he shivered
with cold; for he had no great coat or railway
wrapper, and the second class carriage
in which we were travelling had a hole in
the floor—It is very hard that it should
have happened to me. I have always been
careful: I never wasted a penny in my life.
No, no! they cannot say it was extravagance
that ruined me. Why, sir, until this wretched
business, I never had a debt in my life—paid
on the nail, and made up my cash-book
every night before I went to bed. It seems
only the other day—although it's fifteen
years ago that my poor father gave me a
bright, new sovereign, because I had saved
ten shillings in my money-box, while my
brother Jack—he enlisted soon after, and was
killed in the Battle of Moodkee—had only
threepence, and owed a tick to the tart-
woman.

No, gentlemen (he continued, after we had
shown our tickets at the Biibury junction—
his was a free pass) I have always been
prudent. Many a time have I had a shilling
from my uncle Bullion for repeating poor
Robin's maxims. "Take care of the pence,
my boy," he used to say, "and the pounds
will take care of themselves."—"A shilling
saved is a shilling got." He promised to
leave me his fortune; and he would—                                                        only, you see, being persuaded by his most
respectable acquaintance, he put all his
money into the Real del Monte at five
hundred pounds premium, when they went
down to fifty shillings, there was only
thirty pounds balance after paying the
brokers.

I was apprenticed, when I left school, to
old Alderman Drabble, who began life with
half-a-crown, and was considered worth at
least a plum. He did a great business with
the West Indies, and there was not a man
more respected in Mudborough, where he
lived. For he did not spend above three
hundred pound a-year, and always had ten
thousand ready to invest at a short date on
security of produce—sugar, coffee, or tobacco—
at proper interest, commission, and expenses.

Well, I worked there early and late. When
I was out of my time, he offered me a
partnership—not much of a share, to be sure:
not more than I could have got as cashier
anywhere else; but then he hinted that I
should have all the business when he died. He
used to say those were fools that retired from
business—that there was no amusement like
making "money—money, more money, my
boy!" So he took me as a young partner, that
he might work less and make more. He got
me cheap enough.

When I was an apprentice I used to be
very fond of pretty Lucy Gradley, our
surgeon's daughter. I often talked of marrying
her as soon as I was in business for
myself; for we had been children together,
and she was the nicest little creature I ever
saw. But of course I was not going to be
such a fool as to marry a pig in a poke; so I
got my mother to sound the doctor, and find
out what he was going to give her. Would
you believe it, I never could make out
whether it was his extravagance—he
always had hot suppers—or his meanness: he
actually declared he could only afford to give
his three girls five hundred pound a-piece.
Well, you see, that would not do for me. So
I began to listen to my father—who talked
a great, deal about saving money;
although I found after all that he spent
most of his fortune in foreign Lottery
tickets. He used to say, when I spoke of
Lucy, " Ben, my boy, take my word for it,
beauty's only skin deep. Depend upon it
there's nothing like a good balance in the
bank for making married life happy. Stick
up to the alderman's daughter."

Now Rebecca Drabble was not exactly my
fancy. She was rather older than I was,
and bony and yellow, and you always heard
her nagging the maids. But when I told my
father that, he said: "Ah, Ben, my boy, the
chink of the money will drown her scolding;
besides, if she does scold the maids, she
won't scold you."

Well, I dropped poor Lucy; she afterwards
married young Charles Rally. He was
first mate of the Golden Grove; he's captain