

THE REJECTED ONE ! 



A TALE OP THE PIG AND WATCH-BOX. 



" Cruel, cruel fate !" said the young Augustus Blenkinsop. drop- 

 ping a tear into the empty porter mug, " wherefore dost thou torment 

 me thus ? I have a prepossessing leg, an inimitable tie, and a mind 

 far above buttons yet I was born to disappointment ! Evil, thrice 

 evil, is the fate that dogs the representative of the Blenkinsops ; 

 thou art rejected of men." 



The eyes of Stoker gleamed with the intelligence of those of a 

 deceased mackerel, 



" Help yourself," said Stoker, with emphasis, replenishing the pot 

 with Henry Meux's best XX. 



" Kindest of men," cried Blenkinsop, " love may perish, but friend- 

 ship never dies !" The pot not being born beneath the same horoscope 

 with the speaker, was not rejected. 



" Come, Blenkinsop, my boy," said Faucitt, filling his pipe, " no 

 long faces here. Let's have a song, or 'spose you tip us a bit of 

 autobiography. Waiter, another quart of stout; remember what 

 the great Dr. Watts' says 



" Woe is the child of thought, and kin to fear, 

 One yields to pipes, but both must yield to beer !" 



"My sorrows," answered Blenkinsop, can yield to neither. O, Leged, 

 emperor of Ethiopia ! well hast thou said 



" O, curse Leged," said Faucitt, " let's have none of him." 



" Certainly not," said Stoker. 



"Well then, friends, listen and be dumb; but first, I'll trouble you, 

 Stoker, for the other mug !" A deep silence followed, broken only 

 by the protracted breathing of Augustus at his draught, until, having 

 rivetted his eyes for a moment on the bottom of the pewter, he set it 

 down with a sigh, and proceeded. 



" Need I tell you that I am the only son and heir of Reginald 

 Nicodemus Blenkinsop, of Dot-and-go-one Hall, county Somerset, 

 that his father was 



" We knows all that already," interrupted Stoker. 



" Rash young man !" said Blenkinsop, with solemnity ; " the 

 blood of a hundred sires burns within me ! but I forgive you. You 

 know I was born with considerable expectations that godlike for- 

 tune seemed to welcome me from the hour of my birth, and that the 

 heavens, for a time, appeared to smile benignantly on the scion of an 

 ancient stem. In the words of the poet 



" O d m the poet !" shouted Faucitt. 



" Certainly," said Stoker. 



Blenkinsop looked sternly. 



" Alas !" said he, " those were the last hours of unadulterated 

 happiness that I ever enjoyed. I went to the university I studied 

 hard I bought an alarum clock eschewed wine parties proctors 

 reverenced me my tutor smiled upon me my acquaintance cut 



