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of cream-cheese, and the like. There's no sense in such a set of lies; for life's life every where, even in France; though it be but a poor starving place, at best, without pasture, or cattle; or corn, either, fit for a man for to eat."

"Ay, father, ay; but Bob Spear, as we call him at our club—"

"Y're young, y're young, Tim," interrupted Mr. Gooch; "and your youngsters do believe every thing. When you've sowed your wild oats, you'll know better. But we mustn't all be calves at the same time. If there were none for to give milk, there'd be none for to suck. So it be all for the best. And that makes me for to take it the less to heart, when I do see you be such a gudgeon, Tim, with no more sense than to swallow neat down every thing that do come in your way. But you'll never thrive, Tim, till you be like to what I be; people do tell such a peck of staring lies, that I do no' believe, nor I wo' no' believe one mortal word by hearsay."

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