for enlightening the Doctor as to the true character of the mysterious garment.

At length there was a pause, when I heard Coleman whisper to Lawless

"Thomas was pretty right in saying that new fellow knows how to make himself comfortable, at all events."

"He's a precious deal too free and easy to please me," muttered Lawless, in an undertone; "I shall take the liberty of seeing whether his self-possession cannot be disturbed a little. I have no notion of such airs. Here, Mullins!"

And laying hold of Mullins by the arm, he pulled him into a chair by his side, and proceeded to give him some instructions in a whisper. The subject of their remarks, Harry Oaklands, who had, on re-entering the room, taken possession of the three chairs near the window, was still reclining, book in hand, in the same indolent position, apparently enjoying the beauty of the autumnal sunset, without concerning himself in the slightest degree about anything which might be going on inside the room.

Lawless, whose proceedings I was watching with an anxious eye, having evidently succeeded, by a judicious mixture of bullying and cajollery, in persuading Mullins to assist him in whatever he was about to attempt, now drew a chair to the other side of the window, and seated himself exactly opposite to Oaklands.

"How tired riding makes a fellow! I declare I'm regularly baked, used completely up," he observed, and then continued, glancing at Oaklands, "Not such a bad idea, that. Mullins, give us a chair; I don't see why elevating the extremities should not pay in my case, as well as in other people's."

He then placed his legs across the chair which Mullins brought him, and folding his arms so as exactly to imitate the attitude of his opposite neighbour, sat for some minutes gazing out of the window with a countenance of mock solemnity. Finding this did not produce any effect on Oaklands, who having slightly raised his eyes when Lawless first seated himself, immediately cast them upon the book again, Lawless stretched himself, yawned, and once more addressed Mullins.

แ Shocking bad sunset as ever I saw-it's no go staring at that. I must have a book-give me the Byron."

To this Mullins replied, "that he believed Mr. Oaklands was reading it."

"Indeed! the book belongs to you, does it not?"

Mullins replied in the affirmative.

"Have you any objection to lend it to me?"

Mullins would be most happy to do so.

"Then ask the gentleman to give it to you-you have a right to do what you please with your own property, I imagine ?"

It was very evident that this suggestion was not exactly agreeable to Mullins; and although his habitual fear of Lawless was so strong as completely to overpower any dread of what might be the possible consequences of his act, it was not without much hesitation that he approached Oaklands, and asked him for the book, "as he wished to lend it to Lawless."

On hearing this, Oaklands leisurely turned to the fly-leaf, and having apparently satisfied himself, by the perusal of the name written thereon, that it really belonged to Mullins, handed it to him without a word. I fancied, however, from the stern expression of his mouth, and a slight contraction of the brow, that he was not as insensible to their impertinence as he wished to appear.

Lawless, who had been sitting during this little scene with his eyes closed, as if asleep, now roused himself, and saying, “Oh, you have got it at last, have you?" began turning over the pages, reading aloud a line or two here and there, while he kept up a running commentary on the text as he did so―

"Hum! ha! now let's see, here we are the 'G-I-A-O-U-R,'that's a nice word to talk about. What does G-I-A-O-U-R spell, Mullins? You don't know? what an ass you are, to be sure!

'Fair clime, whose every season smiles
Benignant o'er those blessed isles'-

blessed isles, indeed, what stuff!—

"Tis Greece, but living Greece no more;'

that would do for a motto for the barbers to stick on their pots of bear's grease!

'Clime of the unforgotten brave;'

unforgotten! yes, I should think so; how the deuce should they be forgotten, when one is bored with them morning, noon, and night, for everlasting, by old Sam, and all the other pastors and masters in the kingdom? Hang me, if I can read this trash; the only poetry that ever was written worth reading is 'Don Juan."" He then flung down the book, adding—

"It's confoundedly cold, I think. Mullins, shut that window."

This order involved more difficulties in its execution than might at first be imagined. Oaklands, after giving up the book, had slightly altered his position, by drawing nearer the window, and leaning his elbow on the sill, so that it was impossible to shut it without obliging him to move. Mullins saw this, and seemed for

a moment inclined not to obey, but a look and a threatening gesture from Lawless again decided him; and with slow unwilling steps he approached the window, and laid his hand on it, for the purpose of shutting it. As he did so, Oaklands raised his head, and regarded him for a moment with a glance like lightning, his large eyes glaring in the twilight like those of some wild animal, while the red flush of anger rose to his brow, and we all expected to see him strike Mullins to the ground. Conquering himself, however, by a powerful effort of self-control, he folded his arms, and turning from the window, suffered Mullins to close it without interruption. Still I could perceive, from the distended nostril and quivering lip, that his forbearance was almost exhausted.

"Ah, that's an improvement," said Lawless; "I was getting uncommonly chilly. By the way, what an interesting virtue patience is; it is a curious fact in Natural History, that some of the lower animals share it with us; for instance, there's nothing so patient as a jack-ass

แ

Except a pig,” put in Mullins; "they're uncommon"Obstinate," suggested Coleman.

"Oh, ah! it's obstinate I mean," replied Mullins.

"Well, you know donkeys are obstinate, like a pig, that's what I meant." "Don't be a fool," said Lawless. "Deuce take these chairs, I cannot make myself comfortable anyhow—the fact is, I must have three, that's the proper number-give me another, Mullins."

66

"I can't find one," was the answer; "they are all in use." "Can't find one! nonsense," said Lawless; here, take one of these; the gentleman is asleep, and won't object, I dare say."

When Mullins was shutting the window, his head had been so turned as to prevent his observing the symptoms of anger in Oaklands, which had convinced me that he would not bear trifling with much longer. Presuming, therefore, from the success of his former attacks, that the new pupil was a person who might be insulted with impunity, and actuated by that general desire of retaliation, which is the certain effect bullying produces upon a mean disposition, Mullins proceeded, con amore, to fulfil Lawless's injunction. With a sudden snatch, he withdrew the centre chair, on which Oaklands'

legs mainly rested, so violently as nearly to throw them to the ground, a catastrophe which was finally consummated by Lawless giving the other chair a push with his foot, so that it was only by great exertion and quickness that Oaklands was able to save himself from falling.

This was the climax; forbearance merely human could endure no longer: Lawless had obtained his object of disturbing Harry Oaklands' self-possession, and was now to learn the consequences of his success. With a bound like that of an infuriated tiger, Oaklands leaped upon his feet, and dashing Mullins into a corner with such force that he remained lying exactly where he fell, he sprang upon Lawless, seized him by the collar of his coat, and after a short but severe struggle, dragged him to the window, which was about eight feet from the ground, threw it open, and taking him in his arms with as much ease as if he had been a child, flung him out. He then returned to the corner in which, paralyzed with fear, Mullins was still crouching, drew him to the spot from whence he had removed the chair, placed him there upon his hands and knees, and saying, in a stern voice, "If you dare to move till I tell you, I'll throw you out of the window too," quietly resumed his former position, with his legs resting upon Mullins' back, instead of a chair.

As soon as Coleman and I had in some degree recovered from our surprise and consternation (for the anger of Oaklands once roused was a fearful thing to behold), we ran to the other window, just in time to see Lawless, who had alighted among some stunted shrubs, turn round and shake his fist at Oaklands (who merely smiled), ere he regained his feet, and rang the bell in order to gain admittance. A minute afterwards, we heard him stride up stairs, enter his bed-room, and close the door with a most sonorous bang. Affairs remained in this position nearly a quarter of an hour, no one feeling inclined to be the first to speak. At length the silence was broken by Oaklands, who, addressing himself to Cumberland, said

"I am afraid this absurd piece of business has completely marred the harmony of the evening. Get up, Mr. Mullins," he continued, removing his legs and assisting him to rise; "I hope I did not hurt you just now."

In reply to this, Mullins grumbled out something intended as a negative, and shambling across the room, placed himself in a corner, as far as possible from Oaklands, where he sat rubbing his knees,