till morn with royal princesses and the foreign
ambassadresses, two or three times a week.
Katy Herbert, the daughter of the recently
appointed clergyman at Barcombe, was lost
in admiration of the pictures she heard of the
youthful proprietor; and began at last, though
very sorrowfully, to agree with her father
(who had never seen his chief parishioner)
that he must be throwing away health and
fortune in the round of dissipation throughout
the season. Bill Joyce, of the Willis Arms,
thought it quite right that young Squire
should drive four-in-hand, and attend at
Tattersall's, and go to the races, and show
what tip-top hunters Devonshire could turn
out. The rest of the parish passed many
judgments upon his behaviour; but all agreed
that he was leading a life of the most rapturous
enjoyment, and was the delight and amusement
of the best society in London.

Meantime he had gone to the Channel
Islands in the Musquito, of fifty tons; and, after
being sick for six days, had been rescued from
imminent shipwreck in the Race of Alderney
by a pilot boat, which charged nearly the
value of the vessel under a claim of salvage.
He had tried a pic-nic to Beulah, and got an
attack of rheumatism, which confined him to
bed for a month; he had also walked to
Chamounix from Geneva, and dislocated his
ancle; and now, for the second time, he was
on the point of starting on a fishing expedition
under the guidance of his Uncle Sam. On
the last occasion he had lost his rod and lines,
and been prosecuted for a trespass; but
anything was better than vegetating in London
(when the season was supposed to be not yet
begun), and he looked with some anxiety
towards the package the tacklemaker had
sent him, and wondered why his honoured
relative had not made his appearance.

The door was suddenly thrown open, a
voice ejaculated, "Here we are! How d'ye
like us?" in the tones of a clown in the
ring; and, on turning round, he saw a pair of
short, thick legs held perpendicularly in the
air, while the proprietor performed a walk
upon his hands. The broad tails of his
velveteen coat fell down to his shoulders, his
hair brushed the carpet as he advanced, and
after knocking his heels together two or
three times as if in applause of his dexterity,
he gave himself a sudden jerk into his natural
position and presented his hand to his host
with a chuckle of triumph. He was a youth
of one or two and twenty, round, short,
active, and good-natured. His face was
radiant with mirth, which, when it degenerated
into the more vulgar form of laughter,
hid his eyes altogether by a strange folding
up of his cheeks and closing in of his eyelids,
while his mouth distending from side to
side made him look like the frontispiece to a
Joe Miller. His complexion ruddy with
health; his hat, which he had chucked on his
first entrance upon the floor, hung round with
hooks and flies of various colours; his waistcoat
wide in the flaps, like a citizen's of
George the Second; his boots laced up in
front, and his trowsers of white corduroy
close fitting to the knee. This was Uncle
Sam.

"There isn't a fellow in our office can give
the three cracks on the sole but myself; it's
so apt to put you off the balance," he said,
with an air of proud satisfaction.

"It's perhaps not necessary for a clerk in
the Statistical Office—"

"Deaths Department," suggested Uncle
Sam.

"In the Deaths Department of the Statistical
Office," continued Vincent, "to learn to
stand on his head."

"Hands," interposed the uncle; "it's quite
a mistake to suppose that anybody can stand
on his head. How the dooce could a fellow
stand on an inflexible round thing like that?
The whole weight is borne on the forearm,
and the support is gained by spreading the
palms. Look here!" and in a moment the
heels were again in the air and performed
the wonderful act of clapping themselves
together.

"Don't you see," said the performer, still
in the antipodean attitude, "the head has
nothing to do with it. Just feel the muscles
of my arm. That's how it's done. Jack
Buttons in the Births Department nearly
broke his neck last week by resting too
much weight on his forehead. It's a very
dangerous thing to do. I advise everybody
against it."

Having proved his case by examples he
lay for a moment on his back; and, turning
heels over head without any apparent
exertion, stood once more upon his legs.

"Now, then, are you ready to go?" he said.

"Certainly," replied Vincent; "I have
expected you this hour. We shall be too
late for the train."

"You look sulky, Nephew Vin, and that's
what I won't stand either on my head or
heels. What's the use of being a fellow's
uncle if you don't use the authority of your
position? Why was my sister twenty-two
years older than I, and why were you born
three years before me unless to procure me
a nephew who might be of use? Not a
nasty little young snob always looking out
for tips and holidays; but a respectable young
man who can stand an occasional dinner at
Greenwich to his old relations, and make
himself generally convenient in the pay
department."

"Well; get on. What has that to do with
our fishing?"

"Just this; that if the wind holds in the
south I shall treat myself to an extra day
or two, for I can soon overtake my work
in adding up all the people who have died of
Zymotics, unless some ridiculous influenza
comes on. Therefore, my boy, I am not
going to take you by railway this time. It
gets over the ground too soon."