bare country in front of the castle, was a
shabby four-wheeled fly, standing immediately
opposite the portcullis entrance on
the outer side of the moat. Near the
fly was a bony horse, endeavouring to
graze, and a shabby groom trying to warm
himself by dancing, and flinging his hands
under his arm-pits. Presently an old
gentleman put his head out of the window
of the fly, and I at once recognised Mr.
Coggleshall, senior. I called my husband,
and, by the time he reached the window,
his father, who was very stout had with
some difficulty reached the ground, and
began to make signs towards the castle.
Something struck us both, seeing the horse
disengaged from the vehicle, that Mr.
Coggleshall, senior, had passed the night in
front of the moat, being unable to make
the old warder hear. We at once hastened
down to the cell, or lodge, and aroused
the venerable servant, who was still sleeping
soundly, dreaming, perhaps, of the glories of
the past. Mr. Coggleshall, who is rather
impatient, having assured his father through
the speaking-trumpet that his presence was
observed, very foolishly ventured to try his
hand at the portcullis. Neither he nor the
old warder was able to move it. They both
struggled hard; but the more they struggled,
the firmer the old barrier kept its place. It
soon became evident that some hours might
elapse before the passage would be again
opened; and in the meantime Mr. Coggleshall,
senior, who was, no doubt, tired out
with waiting all night, would lose all patience
at any further delay. My husband conveyed
the melancholy intelligence to his exhausted
parent through the speaking-trumpet, and
received, in reply, some faint words, the
meaning of which was eked out by
unmistakable gestures of indignation. In this
position the idea struck my husband, that
Mr. Coggleshall, senior, might be hauled
through the window by which Alexander and
little Waddles got into the dry part of the
moat.

The proposal having been made to the
old gentleman, he seemed reluctantly to give
his consent, and walked to the point
indicated by his son. He got down the outer
bank of the moat, and crossed it with some
difficulty, and then came the all-important
and heavy task of hauling him up to the
window.

By this time most of our visitors had
joined us; and the general opinion seemed
to be, that he was a very large and heavy
man, and that, when elevated to a level with
the small slit of a window-hole, he would
never be able to squeeze himself througn.
After some minutes of suspense, the purple
face of Mr. Coggeshall, senior, was seen
through the aperture; and it was evident to
all that he could be hauled no farther in that
direction.

"Udolpho," said Mr. Coggleshall, senior,
with as much indignation as he could
command in his peculiar position, "What is
this?"

"I assure you," replied my husband, with
sorrow and humiliation—

"Kept out all night," interrupted Mr.
Coggeshall, senior: "and now drawn up by
a common rope to a rat-hole! Try a crane,
sir, for your father: Try a crane!"

A sudden twinge of the face-ache, which
John Thomas felt at this moment, caused
him to let go his hold upon the rope; and
the loss of support sent Mr. Coggeshall,
senior, gliding rapidly down the castle wall
once more into the moat.

We rushed to the battlements, and saw
him inciting the shabby groom to put the
horse in the fly as quickly as posssible; and,
when the vehicle was ready he got into it.
Without giving one look towards the castle
and his penitent relatives, he drove away
in the direction of the neighbouring town.

It was several hours after this event before
the portcullis was again raised, my husband
standing by in a fretful temper all the while
The first use he made of his freedom was
to take a horse, and gallop after his father.
It was quite dusk when he returned; but
the old gentleman was not with him, having
started for London by another road. He
had missed the station when he came
down by going to sleep in the carriage, and
had had to retrace his lost ground by an
up-train. This brought him to the required
point at a late hour of the night, and he had
hired a fly to bring him over to the castle.
When he arrived in front of the moat, everything
was perfectly still; and, as both he and
the driver could find nothing but very small
stones to throw at the portcullis, they failed
to arouse the old warder, and had to encamp
for the night. He positively refused to be
reconciled to his son until he took steps to
dispose of his barbarous legacy.

"Which," said my husband, "I have
determined to do; for, though an Englishman's
house may be his castle, an Englishman's
castle will not do for his house."

             MR. CHARLES DICKENS'S READINGS

                      AT ST. MARTIN'S HALL.

On Thursday, February the 10th, MR. CHARLES
DICKENS will read THE CHRISTMAS CAROL, and THE TRIAL
from PICKWICK.

The Doors will be open for each Reading at Seven,
Commence at eight exactly.

Places for each Reading: Stalls (numbered and
reserved), Four Shillings; Centre Area and Balconies,
Two Shillings; Back Seats, One Shilling.

Tickets to be had at Messrs. Chapman and Hall's,
Publiishers, 193, Piccadilly; and at St. Martin's Hall,
Long Acre.

The Right of Translating Articles from HOUSEHOLD WORDS is reserved by the Authors.