your uncle's mo intime friend, lives in . . . . . ., the town in which your servt will drop ye bride. He is much altered,—poor Jno!"
"Altered! alteration then seems the fashion with my uncle's friends!" thought Walter, as he rang for the Corporal, and consigned to his charge the unsightly parcel.
"It is to be carried twenty-one miles at the request of the gentleman we met last night,—a most sensible man, Bunting."
"Augh—whaugh,—your honour!" grunted the Corporal, thrusting the bridle very discontentedly into his pocket, where it annoyed him the whole journey, by incessantly getting between his seat of leather and his seat of honour. It is a comfort to the inexperienced, when one man of the world smarts from the sagacity of another; we resign ourselves more willingly to our fate. Our travellers resumed their journey, and in a few minutes, from the cause we have before assigned, the Corporal became thoroughly out of humour.
"Pray, Bunting," said Walter, calling his attendant to his side, "do you feel sure that the
