"All right, I hope?" replied Sam. "Governor
softened?"

The young man smiled sadly and shook his
head.

"You are to be absent for a week," he said.
"May I call as usual to see if anything
comes?"

"Certainly, my good fellow; and you will
always have the mattress on the floor. You
can go on with your summersets."

"Thank you, I've left off gymnastics. I
never got very far in the art, and at present
I have no great spirits to pursue my studies.
I may get a letter addressed here as usual
to-night, which will make me the wretchedest
man alive."

"Poh! nonsense; never be down-hearted.
It will bring you good news, I'm sure. And
you'll do very well if you practise. Keep
your heels well down, and your arms close to
your side. You'll manage the double tumble
in a week. But do as you like."

"Thank you; you're very good. Goodbye."

"That's a green sort of bird," said Uncle
Sam, when they had gone some miles in
silence, and were fairly through the suburbs.
"He was once in our office, but didn't take
either to statistics or climbing the pole; so
he resigned. And what do you think the
fool has done? Why he's sure to die in the
poor-house, for he first fell in love, and then,
by Jove! he wrote a book."

"Poems, of course," said Vincent.

"Poems? no! Something about India,
when all this row is over. Something about
agriculture among the old Hindoos, or means
of development of cotton cultivation. I never
read a word of the rubbish myself, but it lies
on the table of our Club, and looks dreadfully
respectable."

"And the lady? " inquired Vincent,
beginning to take an interest in the story.

"O! she's dreadfully respectable too; but
she's a rum one to write. She sends epistles
five or six times a week, all to the care of
Samuel Blanders, Esquire, forty-one, Little
Ducrow Place. He's afraid to have them sent
home, for he lives with an old uncle in the
Regent's Park, who would disinherit him if he
suspected him of such nonsense as making
love or writing books. And a sensible old
fellow too, in my opinion: so take care,
Nephew Vin, how you behave: no courtship,
no authorship, sir, or your fate is a shilling."

"My dear Uncle Sam," said Vincent, in a
melancholy tone; "I would give all I am
worth either to fall in love or compose a
volume."

"Ah! well—it isn't so bad for a man
with two thousand a year, besides expectations
from an uncle in the Statistical Office; but
Arthur Welland hasn't two hundred, and only
an uncle in the Stock Exchange.

"Get on blockhead," he added, addressing
the horse. " I must have an hour of
the flat saddle, before we put up for the
night."

II.

"STOP, Mazeppa! " cried Uncle Sam, on the
third day of the fishing excursion, "and let
us admire the beauty of the prospect."

Mazeppa stopped as requested, without the
faintest inclination to rear or threaten, and
hung its ears, and heaved its poor old sides
as if it had trotted a hundred miles. The
travellers also performed their part of the
contract by admiring the scenery on either
hand. A river, broad and shallow, but with
smooth expanses on its surface, which showed
that it possessed holes of considerable depth,
flowed happily onward by the side of the
road. A bridge of several arches spanned it
a little way in advance, and led the way to a
gate-house, at the entrance of a gentleman's
grounds, which lay in grassy sward and clumped
hillock along the water side. A boat was
moored to the bank, a short distance below
the bridge; and, on the rise of a gentle
elevation was a nice modest villa with steps at the
front door and a greenhouse at the side, and
French windows down to the ground. The
gable end of a stable, covered with ivy, was seen
at a hundred yards distance towards the west.
A pretty, charming, moderate-sized place; not
the show and wonder of a county; with
probably very few old masters on the walls, but
not unlikely a beautiful Roberts in the
drawing-room, and a Stanfield over the mantelpiece.
Fifty acres of pasture did not constitute
the proprietor a prominent member of the
Agricultural Society; nor did the four or five
cows, which lounged so picturesquely under
the trees, add much to the statistical
returns of cattle and sheep.

"I should think, sixteen hundred a year,"
said Sam, "with expectations from an aunt.
What a happy life! What a soft turf! What
a place for the Caucasian courser and the
rosined saddle! And the river, Vin! There
must be loads of fish in these long reaches;
and, if there's a pot-house anywhere near,
we can't do better than get out our tackle
and have a try for a two pound trout."

A hostelry of clean appearance, with a
horse trough under an elm tree at the door,
and the sign of the Waggoner depending from
the lowest bough, tempted the travellers to
remain. The Caucasian was ensconced in a
comfortable stall, orders were given for
dinner, two clean, rustically-furnished
bedrooms were examined and secured, and in a
short time, armed with rod and line, the
uncle and nephew retraced their steps, and
commenced operations just opposite the
mansion which had so excited their admiration.
The house looked cosier, happier,
healthier than ever. There were appearances
of occupancy about it which added greatly to
its charm; for, every now and then, young
people— ladies, I mean, for men never add
any thing to a landscape, unless they are