the queerest fellows I ever met with! It is not often, I suspect, that station and fortune go begging in this manner.

Hor. Don't mistake me, sir; I have no objection to the money.

Sq. Haven't you, really?

Hor. O, no; none in life! In point of fact, I rather like and I'll tell you why. I have rather "outrun the constable" lately.

it;

Sq. (Astonished.) You have done what, sir?

Sq. (To GEORGE.) What on earth has this boy had a constable after him for?

Geo. (Smiling.) O, sir, don't be alarmed! Outrunning the constable is only a fashionable phrase for spending more than one's income.

Sq. And the offence, I fear, is as fashionable as the phrase.(To HORACE.) Then, pray, sir, why don't you jump at such a chance as this?

Hor. Because I haven't the least idea how to be a Squire. Sq. Come, that's honest, at all events! Are you willing to learn?

Hor. Is it much trouble?

Sq. Less than to be a noodle!—at least I should think so. Hor. Then I'll try.

Sq. So you shall. Give me your hand! And give me yours, George. Now! mind this brother of yours engages to become my pupil; if I succeed in humanizing him, he will be my heir; if not, you must! No answer; for, by Jupiter, one of you shall!

Geo. Horace will be the man, sir, no doubt. He is younger than I am, and his habits are less settled.

Sq. Much less, seemingly !—(Aside.) How shall I begin

with him?(To HORACE.) Can you ride?

Hor. I flatter myself that's about the best thing I do!

Sq. Then you really are not afraid of a horse?

Hor. I'm afraid of nothing!

Sq. (Aside.) How one may be deceived by appearances !— (Aloud.) Can you drive?

Hor. Gig, curricle, tandem, unicorn, or four. I have driven the coach from London to Brighton about two hundred times. Sq. I'm glad you can drive; but I beg to inform you that whoever becomes my heir will be able to make a decent livelihood without turning stage coachman!

Geo. It is n't for that, sir-it's the fashion.

Sq. (To GEORGE.) O!-(To HORACE.) Pray, sir, is it the fashion for gentlemen to turn servants of all denominations? Because, although our roads here are well supplied with coachmen at present, I have a vacancy for a footman, if that would suit you!

Hor. That would be degrading.

Sq. O! I beg your pardon. I didn't perceive the distinction. Can you shoot?

Hor. I can kill eleven birds out of twelve, at thirty yards; for further particulars inquire at the Red House, Battersea. Sq. Is that true?

Hor. I never tell a lie; it's ungentlemanly.

Sq. (Aside.) He's a strange animal; but there is good about the fellow!-(Aloud.) Now, sir, one thing more, and I have done with you for the present. You are short of cash, I understand.

Hor. Excruciatingly!

Sq. I want to make a purchase of you. If I give you fifty pounds, may I take my choice of any article you have got about you?

Hor. Most willingly!

Sq. Enough! (Taking out pocket book.) George! I lodge the money with you; when the goods are delivered, pay the vender.

Geo. But what is the purchase, sir?

Hor. Ay, what is the purchase?

Sq. The growing crop of hair upon your face; with liberty to mow, whenever I please. (GEORGE laughs-HORACE looks astonished.)

Hor. My whiskers and mustaches!

room.

Sq. Even so! Come, a bargain is a bargain; away to your Shave them off clean! And don't let me see your face again, until, until-in short-I can see it. (Goes up to table and rings bell; HORACE is going.)

Geo. Horace !

Hor. (Turning.) What?

Geo. (Laughs and imitates shaving.) I say

Hor. Now be quiet! (Going.)

Hor. (Peevishly, turning again.) Well! What do you want?

Geo. Look here, old man! (Holding up note.)

Hor.

Well-to be sure-a fifty is two ponies; and the hair

will grow again!

(Exit.)

SOLD OUT AND BOUGHT IN.

From the "Old Still-House," by Mrs. F. D. GAGE. Arranged by J. R.

SYPHER.

Characters.—Mrs. MAGOON; RICHARD MAGOON; ELSIE, and Mr. DELNO.

Mrs. MAGOON and ELSIE.

Let us drop it

Mrs. Magoon. It's no use to weep over it, my child; it must be done, and perhaps it's for the best. now, and think of something more cheerful.

Elsie. I cannot, mother. This old home that you and father have toiled upon so long, to be put under the sheriff's hammer -and for such a debt!

Mrs. M. If it cannot be helped, my dear, is it not better wisdom to submit? A thing that can be helped should never be patiently borne, although it cost trial and struggle, and even antagonism; but I see no help for this. Mr. Porter has waited a great many years: it is now twenty-five since your father borrowed that money.

Elsie. But, mother, that money was, by every principle of

father still.

rs. M. Elsie, my child, he is your sie. I know it, mother; but my heart must pour out its ess now, this once, if never more. Next week our home is sold; and you, what will become of you and all of us? have toiled here for twenty-five years, and were the butter cheese, the woollen and linen you have made, piled up e you, they would pay for the farm. You have educated

f us; you have washed and cooked, carded and spun; have dried fruit, made the garden, and become the marketan-anything, everything, that we might be clothed, and books, and be brought up respectably; you have never e a bad bargain; have never been drunk; never neglected ty-all that human hands, human ingenuity, and human ence were permitted to do, under the law, you have done. now what have you to show for it? Without a word xplanation, this terrible effect comes upon you from causes h you have struggled, day and night, to avert! I ask n, what have you to show for all your labor and self-sacrifice? hat individual right do you possess?

rs. M. I have my children, Elsie, and I hope and trust I have built a home and stored up wealth in their hearts, the sheriff will not be able to put an attachment upon. If ■ bankrupt there, my child, I shall be poor indeed. I know law is unjust; I know women hold, under it, an inferior and aded position. Could I be permitted to keep the farm and

manage it myself, I have no doubt that I could in a few years pay all the debts. I love the old place-every shrub, plant, and tree is part of myself—it is interwoven with my life, with all that is dear, and all that is sad and sorrowful, too. I do not love to see it go; but it must.

Elsie. It must not, and it shall not, mother; there must be some way—I will move heaven and earth, but I will save it for you.

Mrs. M. Elsie, are you strong-able to endure patiently-to take up a cross and walk under it for years, for the sake of a great good? For the sake of redeeming your father, would you be willing to toil as I have done?—if you could, put out the fire under that boiler, and still the shriek of that engine in the stillhouse, which has, since your childhood, haunted me like the cry of spirits damned!

Elsie. Yes, mother, I am ready to toil and endure; to sacrifice ease, self-enjoyment, everything but virtue and truth, if I could but accomplish what you suggest, to save my father. Oh! mother, if I could do that we should all be saved. And, mother, I have a plan of my own to save our home. I will tell you what it is, and then you can tell me yours.

stranger who was here last night.

Mrs. M. Mr. Delno?

You saw the

Elsie. Yes. Well, Ellen told me that it was our old neighbor, Mike Dugan, who was sent to prison for the murder of poor Harry Falconer, as he was going home from the Still-house mad with drink. He has reformed and has become very rich; and he has repeated to Ellen how much you did for him when he was in trouble, and says he is indebted to you for what he is. He is so rich and so noble, I thought I would go to him and tell him all our troubles. I am of age now, you know, and if a wife cannot own property, a woman can; and I can be a woman and no wife a long time if I choose. I am almost sure he will loan me the money, and buy the place for me, and then we can see what we can do. I will give up my school, come home and live with you, aid you, and do all I can; and I fancy I can do more than think. you