haunches, fixed his attention upon the remains of the chicken which lay
defenceless on the grass. The new comer was evidently of the rank of
gentleman; his figure was slim and graceful, his face pale, meditative,
refined. He would have impressed you at once with the idea of what he
really was,--an Oxford scholar; and you would perhaps have guessed him
designed for the ministry of the Church, if not actually in orders.




CHAPTER VIII.

Mr. Waife excites the admiration, and benignly pities the infirmity,
of an Oxford scholar.

"You are str-str-strangers?" said the Oxonian, after a violent exertion
to express himself, caused by an impediment in his speech.

WAIFE.--"Yes, sir, travellers. I trust we are not trespassing: this is
not private ground, I think?"

OXONIAN.--"And if-f-f-f--it were, my f-f-father would not war-n-n you
off-ff--f."

"Is it your father's ground, then? Sir, I beg you a thousand pardons."

The apology was made in the Comedian's grandest style: it imposed greatly
on the young scholar. Waife might have been a duke in disguise; but I
will do the angler the justice to say that such discovery of rank would
have impressed him little more in the vagrant's favour. It had been that