"The course of true love never did run smooth."

Two months after this event, 'his Mary' married the baker's man!--

* * * * * * * * * *

Wallis's nephew had several times invited me to pay him a visit at his
uncle's house, at Crouchend; and so once, during the absence of that
gentleman who was ruralizing at Tonbridge, I trudged down to his villa.

Nothing would suit Master John, but that he must 'have out' his uncle's
gun; and we certainly shot at, and frightened, many sparrows.

He was just pointing at a fresh quarry, when the loud crow of a cock
arrested his arm.

"That's Doddington's game 'un, I know," said Master John. "What d'ye
think--if he did'nt 'pitch into' our 'dunghill' the other day, and laid
him dead at a blow. I owe him one!--Come along." I followed in his
footsteps, and soon beheld Chanticleer crowing with all the ostentation
of a victor at the hens he had so ruthlessly widowed. A clothes-horse,
with a ragged blanket, screened us from his view; and Master'John,
putting the muzzle of his gun through a hole in this novel ambuscade,
discharged its contents point blank into the proclaimer of the morn--and
laid him low.

I trembled; for I felt that we had committed a 'foul murder.' Master
Johnny, however, derided my fears--called it retributive justice--and
ignominiously consigned the remains of a game-cock to a dunghill!