complains of violation of etiquette, I beg to inform you that I wish the vacant regiment to be conferred on Mrs. Masham's brother, Colonel Hill."

"Your majesty !" exclaimed the duke.

"Nay, I will have it so !" cried Anne, peremptorily.

"In a matter like the present, involving the consideration of very nice points, your majesty will forgive me if I do not at once assent," replied the duke. "Let me beseech you to reflect upon the prejudice which the appointment of so young an officer as Colonel Hill will occasion to the army, while others, who have served longer, and have higher claims, must necessarily be passed over. I myself shall be accused of partiality and injustice."

"I will take care you are set right on that score, my lord," returned Anne.

"It will be erecting a standard of disaffection, round which all the malcontents will rally," pursued the duke.

"We will hope better things," said the queen.

"As a last appeal, gracious madam," cried the duke, kneeling, "I would remind you of the hardships I have recently undergone-of my long and active services. Do not-oh, do not force this ungracious and injurious order upon me. Though I myself might brook the indignity, yet to make it apparent to the whole world must be prejudicial to you as well as to me."

"Rise, my lord," said Anne, coldly. "I have made up my mind on the subject. You will do well to advise with your friends, and when you have consulted with them I shall be glad of an answer."

"You shall have it, madam," replied the duke. And bowing stiffly, he quitted the presence.

CHAPTER THE FOURTH.

IN WHAT GUISE THE SERJEANT RETURNED FROM THE WARS; AND HOW HE BROUGHT BACK WITH HIM A DUTCH WIFE.

THE Constancy of Mrs. Plumpton and Mrs. Tipping was severely tried. The campaign of 1707 closed without the serjeant's return; so did that of the following year; and it seemed doubtful whether the winter of 1709 would see him back again. This, it must be confessed, was a very long absence indeed, and enough to exhaust the patience of the most enduring. During the greater part of the time, Scales corresponded regularly with his friends, and sent them long and graphic descriptions of the sieges of Lille, Tournay, and Mons, as well as of the battles of Oudenard and Malplaquet, at all of which he had been present.

Bimbelot and Sauvageon had been constant in their attendance upon the ladies, and though the corporal's suit could not be

said to advance, the valet flattered himself that he had made a favourable impression upon the heart of the lady's maid. How far he might have succeeded, and whether he might have possessed himself of the hand of the too susceptible Mrs. Tipping, it is needless to inquire. Suffice it to say, that she was so well watched by Proddy, who guarded her like a dragon, that she had no opportunity of throwing herself away.

It may be remembered, that on the last occasion when Bimbelot was brought on the scene, he was locked up in a cupboard by the coachman, and it may be as well here to give the sequel of that adventure. For some time the valet did not discover that he was a prisoner, not having heard Proddy's manœuvre ; but at length, fancying all still, he tried to get out, and to his dismay, found the means of egress barred against him. While in a state of great anxiety at his situation, he was somewhat relieved by the approach of footsteps, and presently distinguished the voice of Mrs. Tipping, who, in a low tone, inquired, “Are you

there ?"

"Oui, ma chère, I'm here, and here I'm likely to remain, unless you let me out," he replied.

Why, the key's gone!" cried Mrs. Tipping. "I can't open the door. What's to be done?"

"Diable!" roared Bimbelot. "Je mourirai de faim-je serai suffoqué. Oh, mon Dieu! Vat shall I do?-ha!" And in turning about, he upset a large pile of china plates, which fell to the ground with a tremendous clatter.

Mrs. Tipping instantly took to her heels, and alarmed by the noise, Fishwick, Brumby, Parker, and Timperley, who had retired to a small room adjoining the kitchen to smoke a pipe and regale themselves with a mug of ale previous to retiring to rest, rushed into the passage.

"What the deuce is the matter?" cried Fishwick. body must be breaking into the house."

"Some

"The noise came from the china closet," said Brumby. "A

cat must have got into it."

"More likely a rat," said Parker; "but whatever it is, we'll ferret it out. Holloa! the key's gone! I'm sure I saw it in the door to-night."

"This convinces me we've a housebreaker to deal with" said Timperley. "He has taken out the key, and locked himself in the closet."

"Maybe," said Brumby. "But let's break open the doorI'm sure I hear a noise."

"So do I," rejoined Parker.

At this instant there was another crash of china, followed by an imprecation in the French tongue.

"Run to the kitchen, Timperley, and fetch the musket, and the pistols, and the sword," cried Fishwick. "We'll exterminate the villain when we get at him. I've got a key which will unlock the door. Quick-quick!"

"Oh! ce ne'st pas un larron, mes amis-c'est moi-c'est Bimbelot," cried the Frenchman. "Dont you know me ?" "Why it sounds like Bamby's voice," cried Fishwick. "Yes, yes, it is Bimbelot," replied the prisoner.

"Why, what the devil are you doing there?" demanded the cook.

"I got locked up by accident," replied Bimbelot. de door, I beseesh of you."

"Open

At this reply there was a general roar of laughter from the group outside, which was not diminished when the door being opened by Fishwick, the valet sneaked forth.. Without waiting to thank his deliverers, or to afford them any explanation of the cause of his captivity, Bimbelot took to his heels and hurried out of the house. Their surmises, which were not very far wide of the truth, were fully confirmed on the following day by Proddy.

It has been said that the serjeant wrote home frequently, but after the battle of Malplaquet, which he described with great particularity, nothing was heard from him, and as this despatch was evidently traced by the hand of a comrade, it was feared, though he made no mention of it, that he had been wounded.

"Well, I hold to my resolution," said Mrs. Tipping. "If he has lost a limb I wont have him."

"I don't care what he has lost," said Mrs. Plumpton," he will be all the same to me."

"I hope he'll come back safe and sound," said Proddy," and soon too. I'm sure he has been away long enough."

The campaign of 1709 was over, and the Duke of Marlborough returned, but with him came no serjeant. Great was the consternation of the two ladies. Mrs. Tipping had a fit of hysterics, and Mrs. Plumpton fainted clean away, but both were restored, not only to themselves, but to the highest possible state of glee, by a piece of intelligence brought them by Fishwick, who had ascertained from the very best authority,-namely, the duke himself, -that the serjeant was on his way home, and might be hourly expected. Shortly after this, Proddy made his appearance, wearing a mysterious expression of countenance, which was very tantalizing. He had received a letter from the serjeant, and the ladies entreated him to let them see it, but he shook his head, and said "You'll know it all in time."

"Know what?" demanded Mrs. Tipping. happened ?"

"What has

Something very dreadful," replied Proddy, evasively; "so prepare yourselves."

"Oh, good gracious, you alarm one!" exclaimed Mrs. Tipping. "He hasn't got a leg shot off?"

"Worse than that," replied Proddy.

"Worse than that!" repeated Mrs. Tipping. "Impossible! It can't be worse? Speak-speak! or I shall go distracted."

"Why he has lost his right leg and his right arm, and I don't know whether his right eye aint a-missin' too," replied the coach

man.

"Then he's no longer the man for me," replied Mrs. Tipping. "I'm glad to have such an opportunity of proving my affection for him," said Mrs. Plumpton, brushing away a tear. "I shall like him just as well as ever-perhaps better."

"Well, upon my word, Plumpton, you're easily satisfied, I must say," observed Mrs. Tipping, scornfully. "I wish you joy of your bargain."

Ah! but Mrs. Plumpton don't know all," remarked Proddy; "the worst's behind."

"What! is there anything more dreadful in store?" asked the housekeeper. "What is it?-what is it ?"

"I was enjoined by the serjeant not to tell-but I can't help it," replied Proddy. "He's MARRIED !” "Married!" screamed both ladies.

"Yes-married," replied Proddy; " and to a Dutch woman, and he's bringin' her home with him."

"Well, I hope he won't let me see her, or I'll tear her eyes out-that I will!” cried Mrs. Tipping. "Bless us! what's the matter with Plumpton? Why, if the poor fool isn't going to faint." And her womanly feelings getting the better of her rivalry, she flew to the housekeeper, who fell back in the chair, and tried to revive her by sprinkling water over her face.

"This is real love, or I know nothing about it," said Proddy, regarding Mrs. Plumpton with much concern. "I wish I hadn't alarmed her so."

And without awaiting her recovery, he quitted the house.

On that same evening, Bimbelot called upon the ladies, and was enchanted by the news which he learnt from Mrs. Tipping.

"Ma foi!" he exclaimed, "here's a pretty conclusion to de sergent's gallant career. So he has lost a leg, and an arm, and an eye, and is married to a Dutch crow-ha, ha! You say he is hourly expected. I sall call to-morrow evening, and see if he is returned."

So the next evening he came, accompanied by Sauvageon, and found the two ladies and Fishwick in the kitchen; but as yet nothing had been heard of the serjeant, nor had even Proddy made his appearance. Mrs. Plumpton seemed very disconsolate, sighed dismally, and often applied her apron to her eyes; and though Mrs. Tipping endeavoured to look indifferent and scornful, it was evident she was not the reverse of comfortable.

"I hope you'll revenge yourself on de perfidious sergent, ma chère," said Bimbelot to the latter; "let him see that if he has got a Dutch wife you can match him wid a French husband— ha, ha!"

"It would serve him right, indeed," replied the lady. "I'll

see."

Sauvageon addressed a speech, somewhat to the same purport to Mrs. Plumpton, but the only response he received was a melancholy shake of the head.

Just at this juncture, an odd sound, like the stumping of a wooden leg, was heard in the passage, approaching each instant towards the door.

"Sacre Dieu! vat's dat ?" cried Bimbelot.

"It's the serjeant," cried Mrs. Plumpton, starting up. "I'm sure it's him."

As she spoke, the door opened, and there stood Scales, but how miserably changed from his former self! His right arm was supported by a sling, and what appeared the stump of a hand was wrapped in a bandage. A wooden leg lent him support on one side, and a long crutch on the other. His visage was wan and woe-begone, and his appearance so touched Mrs. Plumpton, that she would certainly have rushed up to him and thrown her arms about his neck, if she had not caught sight of a female figure close behind him.

After pausing for a moment in the doorway, and taking off his hat to his friends, Scales hobbled forward. He was followed by his partner, and a thrill of astonishment pervaded Mrs. Plumpton as she beheld more fully the object of his choice.

Never was such a creature scen, nor one so totally repugnant to the received notions of feminine attraction. Mrs. Scales was little more than half her husband's size; but what she wanted in height she made up in width and rotundity, and if she were a Dutch Venus, the Hollanders must admire the same breadth of beauty as the Hottentots. Her expansive attractions were displayed in a flaming petticoat of scarlet cloth, over which she wore a short gown of yellow brocade worked with gold, and over this a richly-laced muslin apron. Her stupendous stomacher was worked in the same gaudy style as her gown; immense lace ruffles covered her elbows; and black mittens her wrists. Her neck was so short that her chin was buried in her exuberant bust. Waist she had none. In fact, her figure altogether resembled an enormous keg of Dutch butter, or a gigantic runnel of Schiedam. A hoop with her was unnecessary; nor would she have needed in the slightest degree that modern accessory of female attire, the bustle. The rest of her array consisted of massive gold earrings, a laced cap and pinners, surmounted by a beaver hat with a low crown and broad leaves; black shoes of Spanish leather, with red heels, and buckles. In her hand she carried a large fan, which she spread before her face, it may be presumed to hide her blushes. As she advanced with her heels together, and her toes turned out, at a slow and mincing pace, the two Frenchmen burst into. roars of laughter, and having made her a bow of mock ceremony, which she returned by a little duck of her body, intended for a courtesy, they retired to let her pass, and indulge their merriment unrestrained.