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short when her reverend friend travelled with her. It is, moreover, strange—remarkably strange—that she never felt fatigued when he was with her. She really did think that she could travel a thousand miles with him, without feeling anything like so tired as she always had felt after travelling fifty miles without him. Now this is, of course, an extraordinary fact—a fact which is worthy of being placed upon record. Whenever she had travelled by herself, or with strangers, or even in company with any other friend, she had always felt tired after the first twenty miles; but with him!—there, she positively thought that she could travel with him every day for a week, without feeling, in the slightest degree, fatigued. As to the journey from London to Cotherstone, why, it appeared to be nothing. They started from Charing-cross, chatted all the way, arrived within a mile and a half of the Grange, and there they were. It was so in this instance. They had a most agreeable journey; and Sylvester rendered it still more agreeable by coming down to speak to them whenever they changed horses. It was, indeed, essentially a journey of pleasure. Aunt Eleanor never enjoyed herself more: they appeared to have been but a very short time on the road, when the reverend gentleman exclaimed, "Here we are!"

The coach stopped; and instantly Jones with the phaeton, and Judkins with the pony, stood before them; and, as they had decided upon sending the luggage on, in less than ten minutes they were home.

Sylvester's first object now was to communicate to Judkins all that had reference to his bedroom plans, and, therefore, having partaken freely of the elegant little dinner prepared for them, he went out, and found him in the tool-house.

"Judkins," said he; "do you know what a somnambulist is?"

"A somnambulist, sir? I think it's a species of convolvolus; but there is such a mob of names now, that I don't exactly know."

"Then I'll tell you. A somnambulist, Judkins, is a sleep-walker—a person—"

"Oh, ay, yes, just so, exactly! I thought you meant something in my way! I see! A somnambulist! Oh, yes, I've heered on 'em; I know what they are."

"Well, then," said Sylvester, "I am a somnambulist."

"Lor, you don't say so! You one!"

"Unhappily, I am."

"Lor, I shouldn't have thought it. As true as I'm alive, sir, I couldn't have believed it. Well, but—Lor bless me, you don't mean to say that you get up o' nights and walk about, and all that?"

"Yes, Judkins, I have long been in the habit of doing all that."

"Why, then—why, look here—you can't be safe to be trusted. You ought to have somebody always to sit up with you."

"I have rendered that unnecessary. I'll explain to you how. Since I made the discovery I have slept with a gentleman, to whom I have been secured—that is to say, fastened by means of a small chain, reaching from his wrist to mine, so that—"

"Exactly!" interposed Judkins; "I see, sir! Capital; you couldn't get away from him no how, then?"