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A BAYARD FROM BENGAL

was being led off with gyves upon his wrists, like Aram the usher, whom should he behold but the Duchess of Dickinson!

Like all truly first-class heroes, he was of a generous, confiding nature, and his head was not for a moment entered by the suspicion that the Duchess could still cherish any illfeelings towards him. "I am sincerely sorry," he said with good-humoured gallantry, "to observe that your ladyship's nose-leather is still in such bad repair. I was riding a rather muscular steed that afternoon, and could not thoroughly control my movements.

She suavely responded that she was proud to have been the means of breaking his fall.

"Not only my fall—but your own nose!" retorted Mr Bhosh sympathetically. "A sad pity! Fortunately, at your time of life such disfigurements are of no consequence. I, myself, am now in the pretty pickle."

And he explained how he had been arrested for debt, at the very moment when he had an