Right Hon. William Wellesley Pole Hon. Lt. General Phipps . 1 1 0 .11 0 . 1 1 0 . 1 0 0 220 ** Where no sums are annex'd to names, the subscriptions have not been received. LIKE MASTER LIKE MAN. CHAPTER I. Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon: Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud, That the graves, all gaping wide, A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. IN a retired part of Lancashire, at no great distance from the sea-shore, old Barnaby Treadaway possess'd a small cottage, and a wife as good, and as old, as himself. They were the children of simplicity, and good nature. Barnaby and Susan lived upon good terms with each other, and with the world in geVOL. I. B neral, so far as they were acquainted with it; their knowledge of which was confined to the petty circumference of some ten miles, (of which their own dwelling, in the village of Oakendale, form'd the centre) and beyond which they had never wander'd. But, though her local situation had been thus contracted, Susan was a prodigious traveller....in books. She had once taught "the village fry" to read; but, on her marriage with Barnaby, he told her, she must leave off attending to other folk's children, and learn to take care of her own, as it was likely they might have a large family. "Do'ee think so, really and truly, Barny?" said the wife, with more than a half smile. "Ecod! with all my heart; the more the merrier!" In this case, however, Master Treadaway (as many a wiser man has done) had reckon'd without his host; for, at the period this history commences, both he and his wife had past their fiftieth year, "And that's no time for capering!" nor had Providence, hitherto, blest the good man's honest endeavours; of which he was frequently reminded by his better half, who told him, that "promises and pie-crusts were made to be broken." Dame Susan, as before mention'd, was a very great reader; every publication that she could beg, or borrow, (from "Paradise Lost," to "Death and the Lady") underwent her perusal; but, most especially, she delighted in a ghost story, and would listen, with transport, to the tales of times long past, when, as we are told, took their nocturnal rambles, with all the sang froid, and punctuality of a Bond-Street lounger. By constant practice she became so strongly tinctured with superstition, that she would not have cross'd the village church-yard, after dusk, for the world; and a coffin from the fire, a winding-sheet in the candle, or a spider in the wall, were sufficient to deprive her of a night's rest. Be it known, however, that Susan was too good a wife to wish for any pleasure, in |