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if possible, what it really was. Good morning, gentlemen," he added; "good morning."

"That's no fool," observed Legge, when Sylvester had left.

"Not a bit of it," said Quocks. "He knows a thing or two, and takes more than one view of a question."

"Drant offered to bet ten to one about his being a government spy," observed Pokey; and this observation produced a hearty laugh.

"Laugh away!" cried Obadiah. "Laugh away, my boys! But just look here! Can you prove that he isn't? Come now! It's easy to laugh: any fool may laugh; but can any of you prove that he isn't a spy?"

"Can any one here prove that you are not one?" said Quocks.

"Me!" cried Obadiah, indignantly. "Me a spy? Me? Where's the gold that could buy me? I scorn the vile fructifying insinuation. What! place me in the juxtaposition of a wretch who would do any cold-blooded business for money—a fellow who'd swear a man's life away just as soon as look at him—a villain, a boney fide villain, whose trade is that of tempting men merely to betray 'em! I call it a most amalgamating insult! No man alive has a right to insult another by such a monstrous insinuation as that!"

"Then why did you thus insult the nephew of Mrs. Sound?"

"I didn't tell him that he was a spy!"

"Nor did I tell you that you were a spy. You asked if any one could prove that he was not: I asked if any one could prove that you were not. I believe one to be as much of a spy as the other; but you forget that when you denounce men for insinuating that which you have insinuated, you, in effect, denounce yourself."

"Well; but look you here: he was quite a stranger."

"What of that? Did that justify you in setting him down for a spy?"

"But he looked like a spy: he came in like a spy, and acted as much like a spy, as I ever saw a man in my life."

"Did you ever see a spy?"

"Why, I can't say that ever I did see one."

"Then how is it possible for you to know when a man either looks or acts like one? Besides, the idea of a spy being sent down here, is too absurd to be thought of."

"Bobby Peel might, you know, send one down just to see, you know, which way the wind blows!"

"Bobby Peel!—psha! What do you think Bobby Peel cares about the wind in a place like this?"

"What! Do you mean to say, then, that you think he don't care?"

"Not a straw! Why should he?"

"Why should he? What, then, are we to be tyrannised over and trampled upon by a plundering lot of oligarchical pensioners, and not have a voice in the matter at all."

"Obadiah," said Quocks. "You'll excuse me; but, as true as I'm alive, Obadiah, you're a fool."

"It's all very well to get over it in that way: there's nothing more easy than to call a man a fool: there's no argument in it! But prove me