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PAUL CLIFFORD.
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haystack, or whether you would like a song and the punch-bowl almost as much as the open air, with the chance of being eat up in a pinch of hay by some strolling cow!"

"You may conceive my choice," answered Paul.

"Well, then, there is an excellent fellow near here, who keeps a publichouse, and is a firm ally and generous patron of the lads of the cross. At certain periods they hold weekly meetings at his house: this is one of the nights. What say you? shall I introduce you to the club?"

"I shall be very glad, if they will admit me!" returned Paul, whom many and conflicting thoughts rendered laconic.

"Oh, no fear of that, under my auspices. To tell you the truth, though we are a tolerant sect, we welcome every new proselyte with enthusiasm.—But are you tired?"

"A little; the house is not far, you say?"

"About a mile off," answered Tomlinson. "Lean on me."

Our wanderers now leaving the haystack, struck across part of Finchley Common, for the