“I mind the time when I wanted all the philosophy I was possessed on; so would you, if you’d been in the same position as I was; but, lor’, it bean’t no use looking back. We none of us know what we’ve got to go through in this world, and it’s a blessing we don’t; leastways that be my opinion, ’cos yer see, Mr. Peace, if so be as we did we should sink down and fall as flat as stale beer afore our journey was half over. We’ve all our trials an’ our troubles, an’ arter all I s’pose happiness is pretty well distributed among us. It bean’t the richest or the most fortunate as are the happiest. Look at my lord at yonder foine estate, who’s a rollin’ in wealth; he be a miserable man――much more miserable than either on us.” “I don’t know whom you are referring to.” “Why, Lord Ethalwood.” “Ah! I don’t know him.” “But you’ve heerd on him, I ’spose.” “No, I’ve not.” “Well, that be strange.” “You seem to forget that I am new to the neighbourhood and its inhabitants.” “Ah, true, I did not think of that. At some other time I’ll tell ’ee all about him, but may be ye’ll hear from somebody else afore long.” Having made satisfactory arrangements for his workshop, Peace sent orders to a wholesale house in London to forward him several books of gold, together with some lengths of maple wood and German gilding, which would serve his purpose for the manufacture of cheap frames. When the parcel of goods arrived he set to work in earnest; the orders he had received for the inexpensive frames were much more numerous than his commissions for the better class of goods; he, however, managed to do pretty well with both class of customers. One morning as he was leaving the “Carved Lion” to betake himself to the workshop, he observed at the bar a powdered lacquey, arrayed in all the paraphernalia of dazzling garments appertaining to persons of his class. Peace was struck with his appearance, as well he might be; for he was a finely formed man, over six feet in height, with a broad chest, huge limbs, and a proud bearing. He was decked out in the most gorgeous of liveries, with plush breeches, white stockings, and a large shoulder knot and tags falling over his shoulder. This radiant individual was conversing with the landlord, who treated him with great deference. Peace honoured the lackey with a cursory glance as he passed out of the inn. Upon his return later in the day, Brickett called him into the bar-parlour and said―― “Did you see our swell footman as you passed out this morning?” “I couldn’t help seeing him,” returned our hero; “he was so big, and was, moreover, so dazzling, that it was impossible to pass by without noticing him. Who is he?” “One of Lord Ethalwood’s servants――that’s all.” “Humph! Well, he’s a credit to the establishment, as far as appearance goes, that’s quite certain.”