picture to yourself the figure which Titmouse must have presented among them--his quizzing-glass screwed into his eye, and clad in his little pink and leathers!--What a _seat_ was his! How many significant and scornful smiles, and winks, and shrugs of the shoulders did his appearance occasion among his bold and high-bred companions! And only about four or five minutes after they had "gone away"--on the occasion in question, this unhappy little sinner was thoroughly found out by the noble animal he rode; and who equally well knew _his own business_, and what he had _on_! In trying to take a dwarf wall, on the opposite side of an old green horsepond by the road-side, he urged his horse with that weak and indecisive impulse which only disgusted him; so he suddenly drew back at the margin of the pond--and over head and heels flew Titmouse, descending plump on his head into the deep mud, where he remained for a moment or two, up to his shoulders, his little legs kicking about in the air-- "Who's that?" cried one--and another--and another--without stopping, any more than the Life Guards would have stopped for a sudden individual casualty in the midst of their tremendous charge at Waterloo--till the very last of them, who happened to be no less a person than Lord De la Zouch, seeing, as he came up, the desperate position of the fallen rider, reined up, dismounted, and with much effort and inconvenience aided in extricating Titmouse from his fearful yet ludicrous position--and thus fortunately preserved to society one of its brightest ornaments. As soon as he was safe---a dismal spectacle to gods and men--his preserver, not disposed, by discovering who Titmouse was, to supererogatory courtesy, mounted his horse, leaving Titmouse in the care of an old woman whose cottage was not far off, and where Titmouse, having had a good deal of the filth detached from him, remounted his horse and turned its head homewards--heartily disposed, had he but _dared_, cruelly to spur, and kick, and flog it; and in this pickle--stupid, and sullen, and crestfallen--he was overtaken and recognized by Lord Dreddlington and Lady Cecilia, returning from the field! This was her future husband---- Then again--poor Lady Cecilia!--what thought you of the following, which was one of the letters he addressed to you?--Well might Miss Aubrey exclaim, "how I should like to see their correspondence!" "The Albanny, Picadilly, London, 12th Oct. 18--. "MY DEAR CECILIA,