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ask—'At the Bull.'—'What's the Bull?'—'A public-house.'—'Add what are you, dear?'—'I'b the barbaid.' Wouldd't the old swell oped her eyes! Sedd I bay live, what a look she'd have for her! Doe it wouldd't do at all to give her a chadce of goidg there, which she bight, add perhaps would do, to addoy you."

That Tom did not do justice to Julia is clear, but he gained his point, and the subject dropped.

On reaching home, Sylvester, when he heard of the arrival of his reverend friend, was delighted and amazed.

"Who is it, Syl?" inquired Tom.

"Mr. Rouse."

"Mr. Rouse: ah! who's he?"

"The Reverend Mr. Rouse."

"Oh: a parson: ah: I shall go idto by study. Jib, bridg be sobe coffee up there.

"But you'll come in and speak to him of course," cried Sylvester.

"Doe, Syl, I dod't like parsod's id private. They are all very well id the pulpit, but id a roob I cad't bear theb."

"Oh, but he's such a very nice fellow. I'm sure you'll be pleased with him. Do come in."

"Well, I'll go id with you; but if he be adythidg at all like the crew whob we used to have here, I shall cut it id a bobedt."

They then entered the drawing-room, and Sylvester seized the reverend gentleman by the hand, and having shaken it heartily, introduced Tom.

"Well!" exclaimed Sylvester, "this is unexpected. Why, I'd no idea of your coming to town."

"I had no idea of it myself, till this morning," returned the reverend gentleman, inferring at once that they wished it to appear that his visit was quite unexpected.

"And did you leave the village pretty quiet?" resumed Sylvester. "Have any ghosts been seen by the people since we left?"

"No: all has been tranquil—perfectly tranquil."

"By the by, Mr. Rouse," observed Mrs. Delolme, "what is your opinion of supernatural appearances—of visions—of ghosts? Do you think that they are really ever seen?"

"I have not the slightest doubt upon the subject," replied the reverend gentleman.

"Doe bad," said Tom, to whom the reverend gentleman seemed to appeal—"that is, doe idtellectual bad, I should thidk, cad have dow the ghost of a doubt about that."

"I have myself seen one," resumed the reverend gentleman—and Tom privately intimated to Sylvester that he had nearly put his foot in it—"I have seen one enter a room, walk deliberately across it, look about, turn, and then walk deliberately back—as distinctly as I see you before me."

"And it is, I suppose, impossible," said Mrs. Delolme, "for you to have been in a reverie at the time?"

"Quite impossible—quite.

"I mean, you could not have seen it in imagination, merely?"