It was not during the six days only, but on Sundays also, that Colin found employment at Peter Veriquear's. As regularly as the Sabbath came, he was converted into an animal of draught and burden, by being placed at the pole of that cradle-coach already alluded to, and engaged during stated hours in giving his employer's young family an airing amongst the delightful precincts of Hoxton New Town and the Hackney-road. On one of these occasions he very luckily, though accidentally, met with a gentleman whom he very much wished to see, and to whom, also, I shall have much pleasure in re-introducing the reader. The day was uncommonly cold, considering the time of the year. Colin's face, as he breasted the blast, strongly resembled a raw carrot; while behind him sat four little red-and-blue looking animals, muffled up into no shape, and each “tiled” with an immense brimmed hat, which gave them altogether much the appearance of a basket of young flap-mushrooms. “Don't cry, my dear!” said Colin, as he suddenly caught hold, and half twinged the cold button-like nose off the face of each in succession,--“Don't cry, dears,--and you shall have some pudding as soon as the baker has baked it. We shall soon be at home, Georgy. There, wrap your fingers up. See what a big dog that is!” A tap on the shoulder with the end of a walking-cane interrupted his string of exclamations, and at the same moment a voice, which he had somewhere heard before, addressed him with--“And do not you remember whose dog he is?” Colin turned hastily round, and beheld Squire Lupton standing on the edge of the curb-stone. If his cheeks were red before, they became scarlet now; for, though his occupation involved nothing censurable, he blushed deeply, and for the moment could not utter a word. “What!” exclaimed Mr. Lupton, as he gazed in admiration on the contents of the four-wheeled basket, “so young, and such a family as that? God bless my soul!--why, surely they are not all your own?” Colin did the best he could to clear himself of such an awful responsibility, avowing that he had no participation whatever in the affair, beyond what his duty in drawing them about might be considered to involve. Of this, indeed, the Squire did not require any very powerful proof, as he had given utterance to the remark more as a piece of pleasantry, than with any idea that it would be considered as meant in earnest.