the entrance to a tunnel. It occurred to me
that if Bovington could manage a horse,
Porkinson was a likely person to go that entire
animal with the addition of a gig. I had
serious misgivings about the cold silver-side in
the buttery, and I whispered down stairs, "Steaks
in quantities, and cut thick."

Bovington, who had all his senses about him
in a preternatural state of working order,
overhearing this confidential communication to the
regions below, shouted, " And onions."

Bovington and Porkinson are both big and fat
and ruddy, and it appeared to me that, as they
sat and rubbed their hands, and drew in great
draughts of air, they were rapidly exhausting
not only my atmosphere but my caloric. My
best Wallsend were wholly unequal to the
occasion. Bovington and Porkinson seemed to absorb
the caloric into themselves as fast as it was
generated. They were both in such a state of
red-heat, that, when a preliminary half gallon of
ale was set before them, it evaporated in a
manner suggestive of a clever chemical experiment.
Such were their powers of absorption,
that I am sure if my banqueting-hall had been
adorned with an arseniated paper, Bovington and
Porkinson must have fallen victims on the spot;
which, I will be candid enough to say, would
have been, under the circumstances, a relief.

I was so troubled by these symptoms, that I
took an opportunity to slip down into the
kitchen to see whether the preparations were on
a scale commensurate with the requirements of
the case. My mind was somewhat relieved
when I found that the steak under treatment
closely approximated to the dimensions of the
flap of a saddle. I was in the act of ascending
to the chamber where the exhaustive experiments
were going on, when another loud knocking
at the castle-gate took away my breath, and
gave me a stitch in my side. Almost at the same
moment the sound of tuneful voices broke upon
my ear with

Oh rest you merry gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay.

"It's the waits!" cried Bovington.

"Oh, nonsense," I said, " it's not Christmas
yet."

"Jolly Christmas! merry Christmas!" cried
Bovington; " I should like to keep Christmas all
the year round."

"So should I," said Porkinson, " and have
turkey and plum-pudding every day for dinner."

I was far from coinciding in this desire, and
proceeded to the door to put a stop to a
performance which I felt to be both impertinent
and premature.

"Go away, both of you, and don't make this
ridiculous noise."

"Ha, ha, ha!" roared a deep thick voice.

"Ho, ho, ho!" echoed another, deep, thick,
and loud.

"What? Don't you know me?" said the
first.

"Why, bless me," I said, "Puddington!"

"Right you are," said Puddington, "and
here's Perkins; both of us come up to stop a
day or two with you, and see the beasts. Come
in, Perkins. Don't be bashful."

Perkins was not bashful; he came in, and so
did Puddington; and Puddington, walking across
the hall, sniffed the onions, and said, " Ha!" in a
prolonged and hollow manner, which seemed to
bode no good to the saddle-flap. Not being
even now deserted by my natural politeness, I
put it as a probability that Puddington and
Perkins were both ready for something to eat.

Puddington said, " I believe you," with an
emphasis which placed the sincerity of his
avowal beyond question; but Perkins, with a
moderation, and, let me add, a modesty, which
appeared to me to do equal honour to his head,
his heart, and his appetite, merely remarked that,
he " could peck a bit."

Now I will say that of Puddington, and even
of Bovington, and Porkinson, that, when we all
five sat down together to the festive board, these
three together did not make half the havoc of
my silver-side and saddle-flap that Perkins did.
Perkins began with cold silver-side, took a turn
at hot saddle-flap, and then went back again to
silver-side; and had it not been that there were
three wooden skewers in the latter, to which I
helped him plentifully, I feel certain Perkins
would have gone to bed with an appetite. It
was a source of great satisfaction to me to
observe that Perkins regarded the slices of skewer
in the light of horse-radish, and that they
appeared to do him good.

"And now," said Bovington, when the cloth
was removed, " I'll give you a toast, ' the Queen,'
upstanding, gentlemen, and three times three."

The gentlemen stood up, the cheers were duly
given, and Bovington's grand (natural) organ
pealed forth the key-note of the National Anthem.
I was about to protest, even at the risk of
incurring the imputation of disloyalty, but the
swell of double bass overwhelmed even my
power of utterance. The National Anthem was
sung to the last verse, and at its conclusion
Porkinson said:

"What shall we say after that, Mr. Bovington?"
To which Mr. Bovington solemnly returned:

"Our hearths and homes."

"Hear, hear, hear," by everybody excepting
your humble servant, who could not regard his
hearth and home with any degree of satisfaction
under the circumstances.

"Regarding you as the Chair, Mr. Bovington,
on this auspicious occasion," said Puddington
(taking no notice of me, which I considered cool,
to say the least of it), " I have to propose, with
your permission, the Army and Navy."

"Hear, hear, hear." Drunk with all the
honours. Rule Britannia, by Mr. Perkins, with
full chorus. Sentiment by Mr. Perkins:
"Britons never will be slaves." " Hear, hear, hear,"
and thumping of clenched fists on the festive
board, expressive of the determination of the
company present never to be slaves.

"Mr. Chair, if I might be so bold," said
Porkinson.