cylinders attached to them, and to lessen human
labour on the trams; but we won't say much
about them, as we're not quite certain how they'll
work. No! there hasn't been much prejudice
against these things yet, perhaps, because
they're not known; but our great difficulty is
to deal with a people who reverence old habits
as a religion, who are 'clannish' to an extent
which makes trades-unionism unknown and
unnecessary, who preserve their language and
their prejudice as a sacred trust from their
forefathers, and who regard all improvements
and reforms with suspicion and distrust."

THE SQUIRE'S TEMPER-TRAP.

IN SEVEN CHAPTERS.

IV.

"You wished to see me, sir," said Mr. Rochford
Hurbandine, sauntering into his father's
study, and flipping off the lighted end of his
cheroot as soon as he was within the door.

"I beg, sir, you will not deny yourself a
moment's sensual gratification on my account,"
said the squire, politely. "Permit me to offer
you a light."

"Thanks. I've done for the present,"
replied Mr. Rochford. "Castleton and I are
going for a trot in the village, and, not to be
vulgar, go in for the universal cla-ay."

"If Mr. Castleton and yourself would infuse
a little variety into your afternoon excursions,"
said the squire, with the same suavity as before,
"it would, I think, afford increased gratification
to all parties concerned. With beautiful rides
in all directions——"

"We prefer the life of the village," said Mr.
Rochford, calmly.

"The livers, sir, are surely beneath the
notice of gentlemen of such lofty fashion,"
remarked Mr. Hurbandine, with some asperity.

" 'The proper study of mankind is man,' "
said his son.

"And, therefore, not exclusively woman, sir,"
retorted the squire. "If your visits had
reference to our general improvement—the
advancement of cottage architecture, the
progress of my village schools—I should have
nothing but thanks to offer. As it is, I fear
that the introduction of the Mayfair element
into Llbwyddcoed will resemble that chemical
combination which results in a report and a
conflagration."

"The young ladies in whose birth, parentage,
and general training you are so philanthropically
interested seemed gratified with our respectful
homage."

"I have no doubt of it," returned his father.
"They don't see such a brace of finished puppies
every day. Did it strike you, however, that
their tolerance of your  homage,' as you call it,
might have been partly owing to their respect
for me?"

"It assuredly did not, sir," said Mr. Rochford,
frankly.

"You now comprehend my wishes, sir," said
the squire, growing angry. "Your proceedings
elsewhere I cannot control. Here, at least, I
will be master."

Mr. Rochford coughed.

"What do you mean, sir?" asked his father,
sternly.

Mr. Rochford opened his great blue languid
eyes to their utmost extent, and looked at his
father for a moment, as if striving to comprehend
him past any mistake. Then he burst into
a low well-bred laugh. "I mean, my dear
father, that we could not, in any case, espouse
the entire village; nor have I, believe me,
the slightest intention of presenting another
Sukey Bubbs for your paternal benediction."

"No, sir, I suspect you of no such sensible
purpose," replied the squire, his face darkening.
"But may I ask how the Lady Susan Vavasour
has merited this polite tribute to her memory?"

"Simply by being born Bubbs," said Mr.
Rochford. "A family misfortune, sir—no more."

"You forget, perhaps, that your great-grandfather
was a small farmer?" said Mr. Hurbandine.

"One of them was," replied his son. "His
maternal colleague was a peer. Speed the
plough, sir, as much as you please, but don't
run it over my mother's ancestors."

The incautious words had barely left his lips
when the squire, his eyes blazing with rage,
sprang from his chair and confronted him so
closely, that for an instant the young man
apprehended violence.

"Insult me to my face, you puppy! you
cold-blooded offshoot of a race of effete boobies,
with not so much red blood in their whole line as
would paint an ace of hearts!" thundered the
angry squire. "Leave the room, sir! Begone!
And mark this," he added, sinking his voice
to a lower but not less furious tone; "see that
I do not give you a second Sukey Bubbs for
your mother!"

"What say you to a stretch across the hills,
Tom?" said young Hurbandine to Mr. Castleton,
who was playing at croquet by himself on
the lawn.

"In a balloon?" inquired his friend, shading
his eyes, and pretending to survey the heights
in question with great alarm.

"They have been pronounced accessible,"
said Rochford. " At least, my aunt, Lady
Clamborough, scaled one of the loftier peaks
last year in her Bath chair, attended only by her
fat lap-dog and one devoted page, and actually
returned to dinner! But she was a remarkably
plucky person at eighty; and if you really
think——"

"Say no more. I share the peril and the
glory," said Mr. Castleton, flinging away his
mallet.

"Still, if you have anything to do in the
village."

"But I haven't. On my word, now, I
haven't," said the Honourable Tom, promptly.
"To-day I'm in a mountain mood. Away!"

That Mr. Castleton's mood inclined to the
mountain rather than the plain might have been
partly due to the fact that he had in his pocket