AFTER-DINNER TALK. 21 



to settle the business, he fell and lay upon me. For the rest, I 

 must refer you to that good Samaritan Conyers." 



" Who, I am happy to say," chimed in Bob, " arrived just in 

 time to prevent Skyscraper rolling you out for a pancake, on 

 which agreeable occupation he appeared to be most industriously 

 intent, when your humble servant reached the scene of action. 

 Those who have seen a donkey on his back, pertinaciously bent 

 on turning himself over on the highest side of the ground, 

 may form some idea of your comfortable position, with Sky- 

 scraper trying to play the same trick, and act as a rolling-pin 

 on your prostrate body." 



" Well, well, Burnett," said the squire, *' it is well, indeed, 

 you are able to sit in that arm-chair, after such a pounding, and 

 sip your claret so satisfactorily. Such a process would have 

 played old gooseberry with my victualhng department." 



" Never mind, Sir Francis," said Fred Beauchamp ; " you 

 won't be the only man with sore bones to-night, if I may 

 judge by the glimpse I had of our friends in the rear, when 

 looking back from Craig-hill, Horses without riders going in 

 all dii-ections, and such a lot of craners at the brook ! Mark- 

 ham, I suspect, had a second cold bath there, but we shall hear 

 all about it to-morrow evening at Harcourt's, who sent me an 

 especial invite j and I am told all the world and his wife are to 

 be there." 



" Ah ! I suppose to parade the heiress," remarked Mr, 

 Beauchamp. 



" She don't want parading. Squire, I'll engage,'* put in Bob 

 Conyers. 



" Oh ! I see — I beg pardon, Bob j forgot she is a pet of 

 yours." 



" And isn't that enough, my worthy old friend, to convince 

 you she is no forward, affected miss, but one of the right sort, 

 although she is an heiress 1 That can't be helped, yet she will 

 make a thorough good foxhunter's wife, notwithstanding, and 

 a huntsman's too," in a low voice, audible only to his next 

 neighbour. Will Beauchamp. 



*' I wish your words may prove true, Bob,'* said Mr. Beau*- 

 champ. 



" And that you may have an opportunity of judging 

 whether I am a true prophet or not," added Conyers. *' Now, 

 Will, pass the bottle, and I'll give you a toast, and as a preface, 

 a stanza from Moore," which he sang in a rich melodious 

 voice — 



