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The Serjeant introducing h's Dutch wite to pis friends.

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"What a creature!" exclaimed Mrs. Tipping, tossing her head scornfully, and arranging her pinners; "what an ojus creature! I sha'nt speak to her."

"I suppose I must though," sighed good-natured Mrs. Plumpton. "Oh that it should come to this, after all his promises and fair speeches!"

"She's no great beauty, it must be owned," said Fishwick, crossing his hands over his paunch, and examining the Dutch lady at his leisure.

By this time, the serjeant had drawn near the group. His countenance grew more rueful each moment, and he had to clear his throat to bring out the words, "Allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Scales. Katryn, myn lief-Mrs. Plumpton."

As the introduction took place, the fat little lady made another ducking courtesy, and lowering her fan at the same time, discovered a broad puffy face covered with patches, a large double chin, a snub nose, and round protruding eyes. She was so very, very plain, that Mrs. Plumpton stood aghast, and stopped midway in her courtesy as if petrified.

"Ah! diable, comme elle est jolie ?" cried Bimbelot. "J'ai un grand envi du bonheur de notre vailliant sergent-ha, ha!" "Et moi aussi," laughed Sauvageon. "Sa est femme sedui

sante comme un tonneau de graisse.

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"My wife speaks English very well, Mrs. Plumpton," said Scales. "She will be happy to converse with "Yas, I sbege Engelsch bery bell, Mrs. Blumbdon," said the Dutch lady.

"She's

"What do you think of her ?" demanded Scales. accounted a great beauty in her own country. She was called 'De Vat Haring van den Haag,' or the Bloater of the Hague, which was esteemed a great compliment in that place."

"Yas, I'm taut a grade beaudy in my own coundry," simpered Mrs. Scales.

"There's no accounting for tastes," muttered Mrs. Plumpton. "But do you know, serjeant," she added, aloud, "I think your wife very like Mr. Proddy-so like, that I should almost have fancied she might be his sister."

"Vat does she say?" demanded Mrs. Scales, agitating her fan. "She says you're very like a respectable friend of mine-one Mr. Proddy, the queen's coachman," replied Scales.

"Oh, Mynheer Protty, I've heard you spege of him before," replied his wife. "He musd be a bery gootlooging man, dat Protty, if he's lige me."

"He is very goodlooking," affirmed Scales. "You'll see him by and by, I dare say."

"Oh yes, he's sure to be here presently," said Fishwick. "I wonder he hasn't come before this. Odsbobs! she is uncom

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"Wont you allow me to present my wife to you, Mrs. Tipping?" said Scales..

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No, I thank'ee, serjeant," replied the lady, glancing scornfully over her shoulder. "Horrid wretch!" she added, as if to

herself.

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Well, at all events, you may shake hands with me," said Scales.

"You've only one hand left, serjeant, and it would be a pity to use it unnecessarily," rejoined Mrs. Tipping, pertly.

"Well, I didn't expect such a reception as this," said Scales, dolefully. "I thought you would be glad to see me."

"So we should, if you had come back as you went" replied Mrs. Tipping; "but you're an altered man now. I always told you, if you lost a limb, I'd have nothing to say to you."

"Your wounds would have made no difference to me, serjeant, if you hadn't put a bar between us," said Mrs. Plumpton. "Oh, dear! you've used me very cruelly!"

"Hush! not so loud," cried the serjeant, winking and pointing at his spouse.

"Vat's dat you zay, madam?" demanded Mrs. Scales. "I hope de serjeant hasn't been maagin luv to you."

"Yes, but he has," cried Mrs. Tipping; "he made love to both of us, and he promised to marry both of us, and he would have married both of us, but for you, you old Dutch monster!" Is dis drue, madam ?" cried Mrs. Scales, her face turning crimson. "I'll believe you, but I wond dat saacy slud."

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"Barbarous as he is, I wont betray him," murmured Mrs. Plumpton, turning away.

"If you wont believe me, you old mermaid, ask those gentlemen," said Mrs. Tipping. "They'll confirm what I've stated." “Oui, madame," replied Bimbelot, stepping forward, "je suis bien faché-sorry to tell you dat de sergent did make love to both dese ladies."

"Silence, Bamby!" cried Scales.

No, I shan't be silent at your bidding," rejoined the valet. "We laugh at your threats now-ha! ha!" And he snapped his fingers in the serjeant's face.

"Yes, yes, we laugh at you now," said Sauvageon, imitating the gesture of his companion.

"Cowards!" exclaimed Scales.

"Whom do you call cowards, sare?" demanded Bimbelot, striding up to him, and grinning fiercely.

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Yes, whom do you call cowards, sare?" added Sauvageon, stepping forward, and grinning on the other side.

"Both; I call you both cowards-arrant cowards," replied Scales. "You would'nt have dared to do this for your lives, if I hadn't been disabled."

The Frenchmen meditated some angry retort, but Mrs. Scales

pushed them aside, crying, "Leave him to me. I've an accound to seddle wid him. Give me back my gilders, zir. I'll be divorzed. I'll go bag to Holland. I'll leave you wid your

fine mizzizes here."

"We'll have nothing to do with him," said Mrs. Tipping. "Answer for yourself, Tipping," rejoined Mrs. Plumpton. "I can forgive him anything."

"Bless you! bless you!" cried the serjeant, in a voice of deep emotion, and wiping away a tear.

"Give me my gilders, I zay," cried Mrs. Scales, rapping him with her fan. "I've done wid you. I'll go bag."

"Yas, give de lady her money," cried Bimbelot, coming behind him, and trying to trip up his wooden leg. "Ah, ah! mon brave, you are prettily hen-peck-ha! ha!"

"Oui, oui, de gray mare is clearly de better horse," cried Sauvageon, trying to knock the crutch from beneath his arm.

"Ah! rascals-ah, cowards! I'll teach you to play these tricks!" roared the serjeant in a voice of thunder, and shaking them off with a force that astonished them.

But what was their terror and amazement to see him slip his right arm out of the sling, pull off the bandage and produce a hand beneath it, sound and uninjured, and hard and horny as the other. What was their surprise-and the surprise of every one else, except Mrs. Scales-to see him unbuckle a strap behind, cast off his wooden leg, and plant his right foot firmly on the ground, giving a great stamp was he did so.

"Can I believe my eyes!" cried Mrs. Plumpton; "why the serjeant is himself again."

"Milles tonneres!" exclaimed Bimbelot, in affright-" que signifie cela ?"

"It signifies that a day of retribution is arrived for you, rascal," replied Scales, attacking him about the back and legs with the crutch. "This will teach you to waylay people in the park. And you too," he added, belabouring Sauvageon in the same manner-"how do you like that, eh, rascals-eh, traitors!"

And he pursued them round the room, while Mrs. Scales assisted him, kicking them as they fled before her, and displaying, in her exertions, a tremendous pair of calves. She had just caught hold of the tails of Bimbelot's coat, and was cuffing him soundly, when he jerked himself away from her, and pulled her to the ground. In falling, her hat and cap, together with a false head of hair, came off.

"Another miracle!" exclaimed Mrs. Plumpton, running up to her assistance. "Why, I declare, if it isn't Mr. Proddy after all." "Yes, yes, it's me, sure enough," replied the coachmam, getting up" ha, ha! Oh dear, these stays are sadly too tight for me. I shall be squeezed to death-ho! ho!"

At this moment, the serjeant, having driven out both the

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