youth, was decidedly an aspiring man, aspiring to be one of a good set, and hitherto he had soared no higher than the outside ring of the fast stockbrokers. Old Guyon undoubtedly went into good society of its kind, and could, if he chose, pull Stallbrass up with him. So Stallbrass's house, horses, traps, and hospitality, were very much at Mr. Guyon's service; and there was only one thing appertaining to Mr. Stallbrass which the old campaigner was warned off, and that was Mr. Stallbrass's purse. Of course old Guyon had made the assault in that quarter at a very early period of their acquaintance, but had been met with such a straightforward rebuff, delivered without the slightest possibility of being misunderstood, that he had from, that time contented himself with his right of "free warren" over the appanages above mentioned, and never renewed the attempt. But in every other way Mr. Stallbrass surrendered to the superior abilities, and bowed down before the more exalted position, of his friend. See him now as he comes into the room--a tall, big, burly man, with a heavy grizzled beard and moustache, light-drab overcoat, cutaway undercoat, blue bird's-eye cravat with a big dog's-tooth set in gold for a pin, long waistcoat, horsey tight trousers, and gaiter-boots. Mr. Stallbrass has a big white hand, on the little finger of which he wears a big horseshoe ring; a keen sunken eye, a pair of bushy brows, a swaggering gait, and a loud strident voice. In Mr. Guyon's house, in Mr. Guyon's company, the swagger is left out of the gait, and the tones of the voice are modulated. "Chesterfield"--that is the playful name by which Mr. Stallbrass passes amongst his friends on the Stock Exchange--"Chesterfield," they say, "tears and ramps awfully this side Temple Bar; but old Guyon could drive him in a basket fourwheeler!" Mr. Stallbrass, following close upon the announcement of the pallid footman, found Mr. Guyon finishing the soda-water and brandy, and stopped in the doorway, shaking his uplifted forefinger. "Hallo, my noble Captain! Comed and cotched you in the werry act, as the man says, did I? That won't do, Major--that tells all sorts of stories of last night's hanky-panky, that does!" "Ah, Stallbrass, my good fellow!" said Mr. Guyon, wiping his lips and rising much refreshed, but still rather tottery; "glad to see you, doosid glad. You're punctual as to--as to--you know!" "I know! Lord bless you, I _always_ know, as the man says. We're goln' to have a fine day after all." "I hope so; it looks like it. Make all the difference to us, eh?" "Well, yes. If there was to be much more mud, it would tell against Devilskin, it would! He's a light 'oss, you know, though a rare plucked 'un; but mud's the devil. Get into one of those sticky quagmires, and where are you? as the man says." "Did you hear any thing after I left last night?"