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 keeping up with spirit their nasal duet. By the effect of this, however, no ear could have been charmed. They were both very powerful snorers, but the harmony produced was not perfect. Few, indeed, could have made more noise; few could have kept the thing up with more zeal; but as Jones alternately touched C and F, while the note on which the reverend gentleman dwelt was a very flat D, the combination cannot be said to have been harmonious. The only marvel is, that they didn't wake each other. It is, however, perfectly certain that they did'nt, and that they slept and snored without the slightest interruption until cook came down at half-past six, and found the door open as before. Nor would they have been disturbed even then, had not cook been inspired with indignation, and instead of rushing up stairs again, closed the door with so much violence that it shook the whole house.

This did disturb them both, and when the reverend gentleman had succeeded in recollecting where he was, he called out angrily for Jones, who trembled for the consequences of his conduct.

"You have been asleep, sir!" exclaimed his reverend friend.

"Ony jist dropped off, sir—scarce three winks, sir," stammered out Jones.

"Where's the light, sir? The fire out, too! Do you think that you are fit to be trusted, sir?—Hark!" he added, as cook, who had heard them, rushed from the door to tell Judkins that thieves were even then in the house. "Do you hear that?"

"Ye-e-e-es, sir."

"There they are!—Now we shall catch them. Be firm: be firm. Jones! Jones! how came you to let the lamp out? I'll never forgive you, sir!—Where is the door?"

"Can't find it, sir! Don't know the go of the room! Oh, here—" he added, sweeping the bottles off the table, for as the shutters were closed, and the curtains were drawn, not a ray of light was visible.

"What on earth are you about, sir?"

"Beg pardon, sir! Thought it was the door?" replied Jones, who at that moment swept off one of the jugs.

"You'll break all the things in the room!" exclaimed the reverend gentleman, who having given forcible expression to this sentiment, groped his way to the sideboard, and knocked down half a dozen glasses just as Jones had succeeded in tumbling over the fender, and bringing down the kettle in his fall.

"What are you at now?" cried the reverend gentleman.

"Fender, sir," replied Jones, whose intellectual faculties were then so scattered, and who had become so excessively nervous, that he took his seat at once upon the rug, conceiving that to be the place in which he was likely to do the smallest amount of mischief.

"Tut!—bless my life!—where is this door!"

"Can't think," replied Jones, still retaining his seat; "it's somewheres about, I know."

"Where are you now, Jones?"

"Here, sir."

"Near the fireplace?"