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Original |*Dctnj.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
THE KISS.
Margaret of Scotland, daughter of
James, the royal poet, was wedded to
)l, e Dauphin of France, afterwards
Louis XL She was herself a poetess,
and her patronage of men of genius,
Wil s liberal, and discriminating. Pas-
s jii(r one day, through one of the sa
loons of the palace, she perceived the
j ,„ t. Alain Chattier asleep on a chair.
s>jic softly approached him, and kissed
liis lips. In reply to the astonished
dances of her ladies, she exclaimed
“Ceil’ est point ;i I'homme queje don
i tine baiser, c ’est aJa bouche d’ on
sortent si belles paroles.’’
tier heart is pure as Alpine snows,
That dwell alone in upper air,
Unseal'd by dark and earthy stain,
That comes not there.
And as the sunbeams’ glowing kisses,
The white snow wreath is flushing,
So e’re at feeling’s gentlest touch.
Her cheek is blushing.
No crimson tide of burning shame,
Is mounting to her : tainless brow,
Though looks of scorn and slight regard,
Flash round her now,
From matrons high and maidens too,
A lovely train, beseeming her
They deemed till now, too pure
In aught to err.
And scarce can they believe ’twas she.
Who hent as honey dew to sip,
And kiss’d as light he slumber'd there,
The poet’s lip.
Oh I smile not lightly, ladies fair,
That at the shrine, where genius true ;
Her glorious light is burning,
I worship too.
The poet's lip is a holy shrine,
Whence beautiful word’s are flowing,
Caught from his rapt, inspired soul
Divinely glowing.
Then scorn me not, that thus I pay,
To slumbering genius high,
The homage of a heart sincere,
When ye are nigh !
She said, and vanished then
From brow and lips the scornful light,
As dawn’d on every mind, her thought
So pure, so bright:
Thus, when the golden gate of morn,
Ope to the glorious day,
Fast tlit the brooding shadows dark,
Os night away.
ROSE DU SUD.
October 29 th, 1850.
(t'linijtsts nf jOrut ‘Hanks.
TIIE LITTLE BLACK PORTER.
From “‘Three Courses ami a Dessert,” Published by H.
C. Holm London.
Some years ago, the turnpike road,
from the city of Bristol to the little
hamlet ofJacobsford, was cleft in twain,
if we may use the expression, for the
length of rather more than a furlong,
at a little distance from the outskirts
ot'the village, by the lofty garden walls
of an old parsonage house, which ter
minated nearly in a point, at the north
ern end, in the centre of the highway.
Ihe road was thus divided into two
branches : these, after skirting the
“alls on the east and west, united
again at the south end, leaving the par
entage grounds isolated from other
property. The boundary walls were
of an unusual height and thickness ;
they wer e surmounted by strong oaken |
palisading, the top of which presented
an impassable barrier of long and pro
jecting iron spikes. The brick-work,
although evidently old, was in excel
lent condition : not a single leaf of ivy
fould be found upon its surface, nor
“as there a fissure or projection per
ceptible which would afford a footing
0” lmld to the most expert bird’s-nest
ing boy, oryouthf T robber of orchards,
hi the neighbourhood. The entrance
gate was low, narrow, immensely
thick; and barred and banded with
* r on on the inner side. The tops of
s evcral yew and elm trees might be
seen above the palisading, but none
w within several feet of the wall:
among their summits, rose several
Lick chimneys, of octagonal shape;
ail d. occasionally, when the branches
“ere blown to and fro by an autumnal
“hid. a ruddy reflection of the rising
l,r setting sun was just perceptible,
- lining from the highest windows of
me house, through the sear and scanty
Miage in which it was embosomed. —
Wording to tradition, Prince Rupert
! : |ssed a night or two there, in the time
1,1 the civil war; shortly after his de-
P ai 'ture, it withstood a siege of some
’ u . v s. by a detachment unprovided w ith
utillerv ; and surrendered only on ac
of its garrison being destitute of
“t food. Within the memory of
a jew of the oldest villagers, it was
” ‘''l to have been occupied by a society
t mins: of the truth of this statement,
“""■ever, it appears that the respectable
“Lteihood of Shepton Mallet entertain
‘■''.v grave, and, apparently, well-found
et* doubts.
hor many years previously to andat
tile period when the events about to be
ceorded took place, a very excellent
man, of high scholastic attain
!|ts. resided in the parsonage house,
“dor Plymton was connected, by
“"Tiage, with several opulent families
Jamaica; and he usually had two or
’ 1 e y\ est-indian pupils, whose educa
. a was entirely confided to him by
; wir friends. Occasionally, also, he
“ e cted the studies of one or two
‘" lln g gentleman, whose relatives lived
1 die neighbourhood ; but the number
1 scholars seldom exceeded four,
” i he devoted nearly the whole of his
“ lle to their advancement in classical
Laming.
Roctor Plympton had long been a
““lower; his only child, Isabel, had
attained her sixteenth year,
j ll a s he became an object of most ar
-11111 attachment to a young gentleman
a mmu mm&k mwm n ummm-i j m Am awb mmm. am m wmal wmjjmm.
of very violent passions, and the most
daring nature, who had spent nine years
of his life under the Doctor’s roof, and
had scarcely quitted it a year, when,
coming of age, he entered into posses
sion of a good estate, within half an
hour’s ride of the parsonage.
Charles Perry,—for that was the
name of Isabel’s lover, —had profited
but little by the Doctor’s instructions:
wild and ungovernable from his boy
hood, Charles, even from the time he
entered his teens, was an object of posi
tive terror to his father, who was a
man of a remarkably mild and retiring
disposition. As the youth advanced to
wards manhood, he grew still more
boisterous; and the elder Mr. Perry in
capable of enduring the society of his
son, yet unwilling to trust him far from
home, contrived, by threatening to dis
inherit him in case of disobedience, to
keep him under Doctor Plympton’s
care until he was nearly twenty years
of age. At that time his lather died,
and Charles insisted upon burning his
books and quitting his tutor’s residence.
On the strength of his expectations,
and the known honesty of his heart, he
immediately procured a supply of cash,
and indulged his natural inclination for
horses and dogs, to such an extent, that
some of his fox-hunting neighbours la
; mented that a lad of his spirit had not
ten or twenty thousand, instead of fif
teen hundred a year.
Young Perry had never been a fa
vourite with Doctor Plympton, but his
conduct, after the decease of his father,
was so direc’ly opposed to the worthy
Doctor’s ideas of propriety, that he was
heard to say, on one occasion, when Isa
bel was relating some bold equestrian
achievement which had been recently
performed by her lover, that he hoped
to be forgiven, and shortly to eradicate
the evil weed from his heart, but if at
that moment, or ever in the course of
his long life, he entertained any antipa
thy towards any human being, Charles
Perry was the man. It would be im
possible to describe the worthy Doc
tor’s indignation and alarm, on hearing,
a few days afterwards, that Charles had
declared, in the presence of his own
grooms —in whose society he spent a
great portion of his ti me—that he meant
to have Isabel Plympton, by hook or
by crook, before Candlemas-day, let
who would say nay.
That his child, his little girl,—as he
still called the handsome and woman
ly-looking Isabel—should be an object
of love, Doctor Plympton could scarce
ly believe. The idea of her marrying,
even at a mature age, and quitting his
arms for those of a husband, hud never
entered his brain ; but the thought of
such a person as Charles Perry despoil
ing him of his darling, quite destroyed
j his usual equanimity of temper. lie
| wept over Isabel, and very innocently
poured the whole tide of his troubles
|on the subject into her ear; but he felt
rather surprised to perceive no symp
toms of alarm on his daughter’s coun
tenance, while he indignantly repeated
young Perry’s threats to carry her off.
In the course of a week, the Doctor
heard’ to his utter amazement, from a
good-natured friend, that Isabel had
long been aware of Charles Perry’s at
tachment, and was just as willing to be
run away with, as Charles could possi
bly be to run away with her. Several
expressions which fell from lsapel, du
ring a conversation which he subse
quently had with her on the subject, in
duced Doctor Plympton to believe,
that his good-natured friend’s informa
tion was perfectly correct; and he, forth
with, concerted measures to frustrate
young Perry’s designs.
Isabel’s walks were confined within
the high and almost impassable boun
dary-walls of the parsonage grounds ;
her father constantly carried the huge
key of the entrance door in his pocket,
and willingly submitted to the drudgery
of personally answering every one who
rang the bell. He altogether declined
receiving his usual visitors, and became,
at once, so attentive a gaoler over bis
lovely young prisoner, that nothing
could induce him even to cross the
: road. He bribed Patty Wallis with a
new Bible, Ilervy’s Meditations among
the Tombs,and Young’s Night Thoughts,
to be a spy upon the actions of her
young mistress; and paid a lame
thatcher two shillings a week to inspect
the outside of the wall every night,
while he did the like within, in order to
detect any attempt that might be made
at a breach.
But Doctor Plympton derived much
more efficient assistance in his difficult
task, from a quarter to which he had
never dreamed of looking for aid, than
! either his outward ally, the thatcher, or
| his domestic spy, the waiting-maid,
; could possibly afford him. Doctor
Plympton had two West-Indian pupils
in his house ; both of w hom were deep
ly smitten with the charms of Isabel,
and equally resolved on exercising the
most persevering vigilance to prevent
the blooming young coquette, —who
contrived to make each of them sus
pect that he held a place in her affec
tions, —from escaping to, or being car
ried off by, their enterprising rival,
Charles Perry. These young gentle
men, one of whom was now nineteen
years of age, and the other about six
months y ounger, had been Isabel’s
play-fellows in her childhood; and Doc
tor Plympton, who seemed to be total
ly unconscious of their gradual approach
towards man’s estate, had as little ap
prehension of their falling in love with
Isabel, at this period as when they
played blindman’s buff and hunt the
slipper together, eight or nine years
before.
Godfrey Fairfax, the elder of the two
pupils, —a vain, forward, impetuous
young man, —flattered himself that Isa
bel was pleased with his attentions :
ho felt satisfied, nevertheless, that the
young coquette was of an unusually
capricious disposition. He was by no
means sure that Perry had not a de
cided preference over him in her heart;
and if his rival did not already enjoy
so enviable a superiority, he feared that
the consequence of her present state of
restraint would be a paroxism of at
tachment to the individual of whom she
was even forbidden to think. Isabel
doated on a frolic; she thought nothing
could be so delightful as a romantic
elopement; and tar from being unhap
py at the vigilance with which she w as
guarded, she lived in a state of positive
bliss. Her situation was that of a he
roine ; and all her father’s precautions,
to prevent her from passing the garden
walls, were, to her, sources of unspeak
able satisfaction. Godfrey was per
fectly acquainted with her feelings, and
strongly tainted with the same leaven
himself. He knew how much he would
dare, were he in Charles Perry’s place;
end he had good reasons for believing,
that any successful exploit to obtain
possession of her person, would be re
warded with the willing gift of young
Isabel’s hand. Charles Perry’s reckless
character rendered him exceedingly for
midable as a rival, in the affections of
such a girl as Isabel Plympton : but
what created more doubts and fears in
Godfrey’s breast than any other circum
stance,was the fact of a large Newfound
land dog, the property of Charles Per
ry, obtaining frequent ingress—nobody
could conceive l>y what means —to
Doctor Plmpton’s pleasure-grounds.—
Godfrey suspected that a correspon
dence was carried on between Perry
and Isabel by means of the dog; and he
shot at him several times, but without
success.
Os his quiet, demure, and unassum
ing sthool-fellow, George Wharton,
Godfrey did not entertain the least de
gree of fear: he attributed Isabel’s fa
miliarity with him to their having been
brought up together; fur that Wharton
could really love so giddy a girl as Isa
bel, he would not permit himself to be
lieve. But the truth is, that George
passionately doated on Isabel; and she,
much to her satisfaction, had made her
self acquainted with the state of his
feelings towards her. She had even en
couraged him, by a blushing avowal
that she esteemed him more than any
other human being, except her father;
and, in all probability, at that moment,
she uttered the genuine language of her
heart; but, it is very certain, in less
than five minutes afterwards, Godfrey
Fairfax was on his knees before her,
and kissing her exquisite hand, with an
enthusiasm of manner, which she did
not appear at all disposed to check.—
Perhaps she scarcely knew whom she
loved best; and trusted to accidentfor
determining on which of the three
young men her choice should fall.
While matters remained in this state
at the parsonage, the day of Godfrey’s
departure from the house of his vener
able tutor was fast approaching : —the
vessel, by which he was to return to his
native island, Demerara, had already
completed her cargo, and nearly con
| eluded the final preparations for her
voyage. Godfrey saw that no time
was to be lost, if he wished to make Isa
bel Plympton his own : he was almost
I constantly with her, and pleaded his
i cause with such fervour, that, by de
grees, Isabel began to forget Charles
Perry, to avoid George Wharton, and
to feel unhappy if Godfrey Fairfax
were absent but for a few moments
from her side. Godfrey knew that it
would be useless to implore Doctor
Plmpton for his consent to their union:
it would have struck the old gentleman
with horror, had a pupil of his, —a
youth of Godfrey’s immense expecta
tions, —offered to marry Isabel. He
would have spurned the proposal as a
direct attack upon his humour; ?nd
have lost his life rather than suffered
such a marriage to take place. It w'ould
have amounted, in his opinion, to a
breach of his duty towards his employ
ers, to have suffered one of his pupils
to fall in love with Isabel. But, even
if there were any hopes that Docter
Plympton would give his consent to
the match, provided Godfrey obtained
that of his father, the young man could
not delay his felicity; nor would he run
the hazard of Isabel’s changing her
mind, or being won by Perry, or even
young Wharton, while he was sailing to
Demerara and back again. Isabel, too,
he was sure, would never agree to a
mere common-place match with him,
when another lover was striving, night
and day, to run away with her; and
Godfrey, under all the circumstances,
deemed it most prudent to carry her off,
if possible, without asking any body’s
permission but her own.
He had made ho arrangements fora
legal union with Isabel; his sole object
was to get her out of her father’s cus
tody, and under his own protection.—
He felt assured that his love was too
sincere to permit him to act dishonour
ably towards her-; and a vague idea
floated across his mind of carrying her
on board the vessel by which he was
to leave England, and marrying her at
i the capstan, according to the forms and
usages observed at sea. The principal
difficulty consisted in removing her be
yond the walls of her father’s pleasure
grounds. Doctor Plympton’s vigilance
was still unabated ; George Wharton,
i although he had scarcely spoken to Isa
bel for several days past, rarely lost
sight of her for a longer period than
i half an hour; Patty Wallis slept in her
room, the windows of which were im
mensely high ; and the key of the door
w as regularly deposited under the Doc
tor's pillow. With a heavy heart God
frey began to pack up his clothes and
books, for tho day of his departure was
at hand, —when the idea of conveying
Isabel out of the house in his large
trunk, suddenly flashed upon him. He
flew to the young lady and communi
cated to her what he called the happy
discovery; and she,without a moment’s
hesitation, gaily agreed to his proposi
tion, —appearing quite delighted with
the idea of escaping in so mysterious
and legitimately romantic a manner.
Godfrey passed the remainder of the
day in concealing his clothes and books
boring air-holes in the chest, and lining
it with the softest material he could
procure. On the morning appointed
for his departure, Isabel stole unper
ceived up to the store-room, where God
frey was anxiously waiting to recieve
her, and stepped blithely into the trunk.
I Within an hour after, it was half a mile
’ on the road towards Bristol, in the fly-
CHARLESTON, SATURDAY, NOV. 9, 1850.
wagon, which Godfrey had previously
ordered to call at the parsonage for his
heavy baggage, a short time before his
own intended departure. At length
the chaise, in which he was to leave the
village for ever, drew up to the garden
gate. Godfrey took a hurried leave of
his old master and fellow student,leap
ed into the vehicle, and told the post
boy not to spare his spurs ifhe expect
ed to be well paid.
In less than an hour, the young gen
tleman alighted at the wagon-office.—
Assuming as cool and unconcerned an
air as he possibly could, he observed,
in a careless tone, to a clerk in the of
fice, —“I am looking for a trunk of
mine, but Ido not see it: I suppose we
must have passed your wagon on the
road.”
“ All our wagons are in, sir,” replied
the clerk : “we don’t expect anotherar
rival till to-morrow morning.”
Oh! very good: then my chest
must be herb. 1 hope you have taken
particular precautions in unloading it:
I wrote ‘with care—this side upwards,’
on it, in very large letters.”
“ Who was it addressed to, sir 1 ?”
“ Why, to me, certainly ; —Godfrey
Fairfax, Esquire, Demarara—”
“To be left at the office till called
for ?”
“ Exactly ; —where is it ? I’ve not
much time to lose.”
“ W hy. sir, it has been gone away
from here—”
“ Gone aw ay !”
“ Yes, sir ; about—let me see,” con
tinued the clerk, lazily turning to look
at the office clock ; “ why, about, as
as near as may be, nine or ten, —ay,
say ten, —about ten minutes ago, sir.”
“Ten minutes ago, sir! What do
you mean ? —Are you mad ? I’ll play
the devil w ith you! Where’s my chest?” j
“ I told you before, it was gone, sir.”
“ Gone, sir ! How could it go, sir?
Didn’t 1 direct it to be left here till
called for?”
“ Very well, sir; and so it was left
here till called for : it stood in the of
fice for five minutes or more, and then—”
“ And then—what then ?”
“ Why, then, a little black porter
called for it, and took it away with him
on a truck.”
“Who was he ? —Where has he taken
it ?—l’ll be the ruin ci you, The con
tents of that trunk are invaluable.”
“ I suppose you didn’t insure it: we
don’t answer for any thing above the
value of five pounds unless it’s insured;
—vide the notice on our tickets,”
“Don’t talk to me of your tickets,
but answer me, scoundrel !”
“ Scoundrel!”
“\\ here has the villain conveyed it?”
“ Can’t say.”
“ Who was he ?”
“ Don’t know.”
“Distraction! How could you be such
a fool as to let him have it ?”
“ Why not? —How was I to know ?
—You'd think it odd if you was to send
a porter for your chest—”
“ Certainly ; but—”
“ Very well, then : how could 1 tell
but what the little black fellow was
sent by you ? —He asked for it quite
correctly, according to the address; and
that’s what we go by, of course, in these
cases. And even now, how can I tell
but what he was sent by the right own
er, and that you’re come under false pre
tences.”
“ What, rascal!”
“ You’ll excuse me :—but you don’t
authenticate yourself, you know ; and
I’ve a right to think as I please. If we
were to hold a tight hand on every gen
tleman’s luggage, until he proved his
birth, parentage, and education, why.
fifty clerks couldn’t get through the
work. I’ll put a case :—suppose now',
you are the gentleman you represent
yourself to be, —and, mind me, 1 don’t
say you are not, —how should you like,
when you came here for your chest,
for me to ask you for your certificate
of baptism ?”
“You drive me mad! Can you give
me no clue ?”
“ None in the world; —you ought to
have written to us.”
“Write to you?—why should I
write ?”
“ Why, to warn us against giving up
the goods to anybody except under an
order, with the same signature as that
in your letter : then even if a forgery
were committed, by a comparison of
hands—don’t you see ?—”
“ My good fellow !” interrupted the
disconsolate and bewildered Godfrey,
“you know not what you’ve done. —
This is a horrid act: it will be the death
of me ; and perhaps you may Jive to
repent ever having seen this unlucky
day. There was a lady in the chest.”
The clerk turned his large dull eyes
upon Godfrey, and after a long and de
liberate stare of wonder, exclaimed, —
“ Dead or alive ?”
“Alive; alive, I hope:—alive, I
mean, of course. Do you take me for
a body-snatcher! If you have a spark
of pity in your bosom, you will put me
in the way of tracing the villain who
has inflicted these agonies upon me.—
What can I do ?”
“Why,if there’s a lady in the case—”
“ There is, I declare ; —I solemnly
protest there is.”
“ Young or old ?”
“ Young—young, to be sure.”
“ Why, then, 1 think you ought to
lose no time.”
“Pshaw ! I know that well enough.”
“If 1 were you, I should be off di
rectly.”
“ Dlf!—S’death, man ! you enrage
me. What do you mean by ‘be off?”’
“ W hy, off after him, to be sure.”
Which way did he go ?”
“Ah ! there I’m at fault.”
Godfrey could bear no longer ; —he
rushed out of the office, hallowed “Por
ter !” five or six times, and, in a few
seconds, half a-dozen knights of the
knot were advancing from different
corners of the inn yard, towards him.
“ My good fellows,” said he, “did any
of you see a little black fellow taking
a large trunk or chest from the office,
on a truck, this morning ?”
Tw o of them had seen the little black
man, but they did not recollect in what
direction he went after quitting the yard.
How dreadfully provoking !” ex
claimed Godfrey : My only course is
to ransack every street —every corner,
in quest of him. I’ll give ten guineas
to any one who will discover the
wretch. Away with vou at once ;
bring all the black porters you know
or meet with, to the office; and, per
haps, the clerk may identify the rascal
among them. I’ve been robbed !—do
you hear ?—robbed—”
“And there’s a lady in the case,” said
the clerk, from the threshold of the of
fice-door, where he stood, carefully nib
bing a pen; “a mistake has occurred,
it seems; and though it’s no fault of
ours, we should be glad to see the mat
ter set to rights : therefore, my laels,
look sharp, and the gentleman, I’ve no
doubt, will come down handsomely.—
I think I’ve seen the little black rascal j
before, and I’m pretty certain I should
know him again : if 1 shouldn’t, Ikey
Pope would, I reckon; for he helped
him to put the chest on the truck.”
“And where is Ikey, as you call him?”
eagerly inquired Godfrey.
“He’s asleep again, I suppose,among
the luggage. Ikev !—A ou see, he’s got
to sit up for the wagons at night, and
never has his regular rest. He’s like a
dog—lkey!—like a dogthat turns round
three times, and so make his bed any
where.—lkey !”
A short, muscular, dirty-looking fel
low now raised his head from among
the packages which lay in the yard, and
without opening his eyes, signified that
he was awake, by growling forth “Well
what now ?”
“ Ikey,” said the clerk, “didn’t you
help a porter to load a truck with a j
large chest, some little time ago?”
“ Yes.”
“ Should you know him again ?”
“No!” replied Ikey, and his head!
disappeared behind a large package as :
he spoke.
“ Well, there’s no time to lose, com- j
rades,” said one of the porters: “will j
the gentleman pay us for our time if we !
don’t succeed ?”
“ Oh ! of course,” replied the clerk;
“away with you !”
The porters immediately departed in
different directions ; and Godfrey, af
ter pacing the yard for a few minutes,
in great anguish of mind, sallied forth
himself in quest of the little black por
ter. After running through some of
the adjacent streets, and despatching
another half-dozen porters, whom lie
found standing round the door of an
inn, to seek for the fellow who had so
mysteriously borne away “ his casket
with its precious pearl,” he hastened
back to the wagon-office, hoping that
some of his emissaries might have
brought in the little black porter du
ring his absence. None of them, how
ever, had yet returned. Godfrey, half
frantic, ran off again: and after halfan
hour's absen e, he retraced his steps to
wards the wagon-office.
“Well, sir,” said the clerk, in his
usual slow and solemn tone, as God
frey entered, “ I have had three or four
of them back ; and they’ve brought
and sent in ha! fa-score of black porters,
occasional waiters, valets out of place,
journeymen chairmen, et cetera , and so
forth ; but, unfortunately—”
“The little delinquent was not among
them, I suppose —”
“ No, nor any one like him : but I’ll
tell you what I did—”
“ Speak quicker : —consider my im
patience. Did you employ them all
to hunt out the villain?”
“ Why, it was a bold step, perhaps;
but—”
“ Did you, or did you not ?”
I did.”
“ A thousand thanks! —I’ll be off’
again.”
“ But, 1 say, sir ; —you’ll excuse me;
—now, If I were you, I’ll just tell you
what I’d do.”
“ Well, my dear friend, what ?
quick—what ?”
“ Why, I’d roust out Ikey Pope.—
He’s the man to beat up your game.”
“ What! the fellow who answers
without unclosing his eye-lids ?”
“ Why, to say the truth, he don’t
much like daylight. Nobody sees the
colour of his eye, I reckon, above once
a week; but, for all that, there’s few
can match him. lie’s more like a dog
than a Christian. He’ll find what every
body else has lost; but upon what
principle he works, I can’t say; I think
he does it all by instinct.”
“Eet us send him out at once, then.”
“ Not so fast, sir :—lkey’s next kin
to a brute, and must be treated accor
dingly. We must manage him.”
“ Well, you know him, and —”
“Yes, and he knows me : I have con
descended to play so many tricks with
him, that he won’t trust me : but he’ll
believe you .”
“ And how shall I enlist him in my
service ? I stand on thorns : —for Hea
ven’s sake be speedy.”
“ Why, if you only tell him he has
a good leg for a boot, and promise him
an old pair of Hessian’s, he’s your
humble servant to command ; for, ug
ly as he is, he’s so proud of his leg,
that—”
“ Call him; —call him, at once.”
The clerk now’ roused Ikey, and, with
considerable difficulty, induced him to
leave his hard and comfortless dormi
tory.
“The gentleman has a job for you,”
said theclerk.as Ikey staggered towards
young Fairfax.
“ 1 don’t want no jobs,” muttered
Ikey. “ Saturday night comes often
enough for me. Seven-and-twenty
wagons a-week, out and in, in the way
of work, and half-a guinea a-week, in
the way of wages, is as much as I can
manage.”
“ Ikey is very’ temperate, sir.” said
the clerk ; “very’ temperate, J must
allow r ; —he eats little and drinks less :
he keeps up his flesh by’ sleeping, and
sucking his thumbs.”
“Ah ! you will have your joke,” said
Ikey, turning towards the heap of lug
gage again.
“And won’t you earn a shilling or
two, Ikey ?” said the clerk.
“No; I’m an independent man: I
have as much work as I can do, and as
much wages as I want. 1 wish you
wouldn’t wake me, when no
wagon : how should you like it ?”
“ Well, but, friend Pope,” said God
frey, “as you will not take money, per
haps you’ll be generous enough to do
a gentleman a favour. I shall be hap
py to make you some acceptable little
present —keepsake, 1 mean—in return.
I Ve an old pair of Hessians, —and, as
i think our legs are about of a size—”
“ Os a size !” said Ikey, facing about
towards young Fairfax, and, for the first
time, unclosing his heavy lids ; “of a
size ! repeated he, a second time, east
ing a critical glance on Godfrey’s leg ;
“ I can hardly think that.”
Ike}’ dropped on one knee, and with
out utteiing a word, proceded to mea
sure Godfrey’s calves with his huge,
hard hands. He then rose, and rather
I dogmatically observed, - The gentle
man has got a goodish sort of a leg;
but, ’ continued he, “his calves don’t
travel in flush enough with one another
exactly, he couldn't hold a sixpence
between his ancles, the middle of his
legs, and his knees, as a person I’m ac
quainted with can, when he likes to turn
his toes out: —but I think your boots
might fit me, sir.”
“I’m sure they will,” cried the impa
tient Godfrey; and you shall have
them.”
“ A our hand, then; —it’s a bargain,”
quoth Ikey, thrusting out his fist, and
striking a heavy blow in the centre of
Godfrey’s palm. “Now what’s the
job?”
Godfrey rapidly stated bis ease’ and,
with all the eloquence he possessed, en
deavoured to stimulate the drowsy fel-
I low, on whom his chief hopes now de
| pended, to a state of activity. Ikey
listened to him, with closed eyes, and
did not seem to comprehend a tythe of
what he heard. When Godfrey had
concluded, he merely observed, “ I’ll
have a shy !” and staggered out of the
yard, more like a drunkard reeling
home from a debauch, than a man des
patched to find out an unknown indi
vidual in the heart of a busy and popu
lous city.
“ I lie AV illiam and Mary, by which
1 was to sail, lies at King-road,” said
Godfrey to the clerk, as Ikey Pope de
parted ; “the wind, I perceive, is fair,
and sail she will, this evening, without
a doubt. Unfortunate fellow that I am!
—every moment is an age to me.
“ Perhaps you’d like to sit down in
the office,” said the clerk ; “I can offer
you a seat and yesterday’s paper.”
“Thank you, thank you!” replied
Godfrey ; “but I fear pursuit, too : 1
cannot rest here.”
The young man again walked into
the streets: he inquired of almost eve
ry person he met, for the little black
porter ; but no one could give him any
information. At last, a crowd began
to gather around him, and he was, with
very little ceremony, unanimously vo
ted a lunatic. Two or three fellows
had even approached to lay hands on
him, when his eye suddenly encounter
ed that oflkey Pope: breaking through
the crowd at once; he hurried back,with
Ikey, to the wagon-office.
“I’ve won the boots,'’ said Ikey, as
they entered the yard.
“Which way? —how?—Have you
seen him?—W here is he?” eagerly in
quired Godfrey.
“I can't make out whore he is,” re
\ plied Ikey; *but I happened to drop
into the house where he smokes his pipe,
and there I heard the whole yarn. lie
brought the chest there.
“Where?—where?”
“Why, to the Dog and Dolphin.”
“I’ll fly —”
“Oh! it’s of no use : the landlord
says it was carried away again, by a
pair of Pill-sharks; who, from what 1
can get out of him and his people, had
orders to take it down the river, and
put it aboard the William and Mary,
what’s now lying in King-road, bound
for Demerarv.”
“ Oh ! then, I dare say it’s all a mis
take, and no roguery’s intended,” said
the clerk, who had heard Ikey’s state
ment: “the person found he was wrong,
and, to make amends, has duly for
warded the trunk, pursuant to the direc
tion on its cover.”
“ A chaise and four to Lamplighter’s
Hall, instantly !” shouted Godfrey.
“ First and second turn, pull out
your tits,” cried the ostler: “out to,
while I fill up a ticket.”
“ Are you going, sir ?” said Ikey, to
young Fairfax.
“On the wings of love,” replied God
frey.
“But the boots!”
“Ah ! true. There, —there’s a five
pound note, —buy the best pair of Hes
sians you can get.”
“ What about the change ?”
“ Keep it ; —or, oddso ! yes, —dis-
tribute it among the porters ; and be
sure, Ikey, if ever 1 return to England,
I’ll make your fortune : I'd do it now,
but I really haven’t time.”
In a few minutes, Godfrey was seat
ed in a chaise, behind tour excellent
horses, and dashing along, at full speed
toward’s Lamplighter’s Hall. On his
airival at that place, lie found, to his
utter dismay, that the W illiam and
Mary had already set sail. After some
little delay —during which he a cer
tained that his trunk had positively
been carried on board —Godfrey pro
cured a pilot-boat; the master of w hich
undertook to do all that lay in the pow
er of man to overtake the vessel. Af
ter two hours of intense anxiety, the
pilot informed Godfrey, that, if the wind
did not get up before suuset, he felt
pretty sure of success. Far beyond
the Holms, and just as the breeze was
growing brisk, Godfrey, to his unspeak
able joy, reached the deck of the WTil
liatn and Mary. The pilot immediate
ly dropped astern; and, as soon as
Godfrey could find utterance, he in
quired for his trunk. It had already
been so securely stowed away in the
hold, that, as Godfrey w r as informed, it
could not be hoisted on deck in less
than half an hour. The impatient
youth entreated that not a moment
might be lost; and, in a short time,
five or six of the crew, with apparent
alacrity, but real reluctance, set about
what they considered the useless task
THIRD VOLUME-NO. 28 WHOLE NO 128.
of getting the trunk out of the snug
berth in which they had placed it.
it is now necessary for us to take up
■ another thread of our story ; for which
’ purpose, we must return to that point ;
l of time when the wagon, which con
tained Godfrey’s precious chest, slowly
disappeared behind the brow of a hill,
j at the toot of which stood the worthy
; Doctor’s residence. Patty Wallis, Isa
j bel’s maid and bosom friend, had, for
j some time past, been brought over to
the interest of Charles Perry, to whom
she communicated every transaction of;
importance that occurred in the house.
On that eventful morning she had ac
quainted Perry with Godfrey’s plan,
—the particulars of which her young
mistress had confided to her, under a j
solemn pledge of secresy, —and Perry
from behind the hedge of an orchard, i
1 nearly opposite the Doctor’s house, be
; held young Fairfax consign his trunk to !
the care of the wagoner’s. Godfrey j
entered the house, as the heavy vehicle
turned the summit of the hill; and
Charles Perry immediately retreated
from his place of concealment, to join
his trusty groom, Doncaster Dick, who |
was waiting for him, with a pair of sad
dle horses, in a neighbouring lane.
“You’ve marked the game, I’ll lay !
guineas to pounds !” exclaimed Dick,!
as Charles approached. “ I’m sure I’m
right ; —I can see it by your eyes. —
Guineas to pounds, did I say ?—d'd go
six to four, up to any figure, on it.’’
“ I wish you’d a thousand or two on
the event, Dick,” replied Charles Perry,
excitingly ; “you’d have a safe look at
any odds.”
“ Well ! I always thought how it 1
would be: if there was fifty entered !
for the young lady, you’d be my first |
favourite ; because for why ?—as I’ve !
said scores of times, —if you couldn’t
beat ’em out and out, you’d jocky them
to the wrong side of the post.”
“ 1 hope you’ve not been fool enough
to let any one know of Godfrey’s
scheme, or of iny being acquainted
with it:—‘brush’ is the word, if you
have.”
“ I’d lay anew hat, sir, if the truth
was known, you don’t suspect me.—
You’re pretty sure I’m not noodle
enough to open upon the scent in a
poaching party : 1 was born in Bristol
and brought up at: Doncaster to very
little purpose, if ever 1 should be sent
to heel for that fault. But won’t you
mount, sir 1”
“ I’m thinking, Dick,” said Perry,
j who stood with one foot on the ground
and the .other in the stirrup; —“I’m
thinking you had better push on by
yourself, in order to avoid suspicion.—
Yes, that’s the plan : —take the high
road, and I’ll have a steeple-chase run
of it across the country. Make the
’ best of your way to old Harry Tul
lius ; put up the horse, watch for the
| wagon, and, as soon as it arrives, send
j a porter, who doesn’t know you, to
fetch the trunk : —you know how it's
directed.”
“ But where am I to—”
“ Have it brought to Tuffin’s:—be
speak a private room, at the back part
of the house ; and order a chaise and
four to be ready, at a moment’s no
tice.”
“ But suppose, sir, Miss should be
rusty ?”
“ I’m sure she loves me, Dick, let
them say what they will : she wouldn’t
i have attempted to run away with this
I voung Creole fellow if she thought
there was any chance of having me.—
Besides, what can she do ?—her repu
tation, Dick, —consider that: but I’m
talking Greek to you. Be olF—get the
trunk to Tuffin’s.”
“ And a thousand to three she's
yours; —that’s what you mean, sir,”
said Dick, touching his hat to Perry,
i as he turned his horse’s head towards
j the high road. In a few moments he
was out of sight, and Charles set off, at
a brisk pace, down the lane.
On his arrival at Tuffiu’s, Perry found
his trusty servant engaged in deep con-;
versation, a few paces from the door
with a short, muscular, black man,
whose attire was scrupulously neat, al
though patched in several places; his
shoes were very well polished; his
neckerchief was coarse, but white as
snow ; he wore a large silver ring on
the little finger of his left hand ; his
i hair was tied behind with great neat
| ness ; he had a porter’s knot hanging
on his arm : and, as Perry approached
he drew a small tin box from his waist
coat pocket, and took snuff with the air
ot a finished coxcomb.
“ Is this the porter you’ve engaged,
Dick ?” inquired Perry.
“ I couldn’t meet with another,” re
plied Dick, “besides, sir, he’s not ob
jectionable, 1 think ; —he talks like a
parson.”
“ But lie’s too ohi for the weight,
Dick, I’m afraid. What’s your age,
friend ?”
“A rude question,as some would say,”
replied the porter, with a smile and a
bow ; “but Caesar Devalle is not a coy
young beauty.”
“So I perceive, Caesar, —if that’s your
name.”
“ You do me great honour,“ said
the porter, “and I’m bound to venerate
vou, Mister —what shall I sav ? No
offence ; —but mutual confidence is the
link of society. I am so far of that
opinion, that I can boast of seven love
ly children; and Mrs. Devalle, although
full two-and-thirty when I took her in
hand, already dances divinely : indeed,
I can now safely confide to her the in
struction of our infant progeny in the
first rudiments of Terpsichore,—grace
ful maid ! —while I teach my eldest
boys the violin and shaving. We must
get our bread as well as worship the
muses, you know ; for teeth were not
given for nothing.”
“No, certainly,” observed Dick; “we
I know an animal’s age by ’em : —what’s
i yours ?”
“In round numbers—fifty.”
“I fear, my learned friend,” said Per
ry, “you are scarcely strong enough for
my purpose.”
“ lam not equal to Hercules,” re
plied the porter; “but 1 possess what
that gieat man never did, —namely, a
truck. I have ofteu thought what won
- dors Hercules would have done, if
somebody had made him a present of
two or three trifles which we moderns
almost despise. Life, you know, is
j short, and therefore machinery is es
teemed : consequently, ‘to bear and
forbear is my motto ; for nobody can
sec the bottom of the briny waves.
“ You are rather out at elbows in
your logic Caesar,’’ said Perry ; “ and
your motto seems to me to be a non
sequitur : —but you read, I perceive.
“ Yes, when my numerous occupa
tions permit me. —for spectacles are
cheap : but I find numerous faults with
the doctrine ofchances ; and those who
pretend to see through a millstone, in
my opinion—”
“Keep your eye up the street, Dick,”
interrupted Charles, turning from the
Little Black Porter to his servant; “the
wagon must be near at hand by this
I time. Allow me to ask you, friend,”
continued he, again addressing Ctesar
Devalle, “are you a regular porter?”
“ Why, truly,” replied Devalle, “the
winds and the weather preach such doc
trine to us, that 1 occasionally shave
and give lessons on the violin. All na
ture is continually shifting ; —why,
then, should man be constant, except
to his wife? Night succeeds the day,
and darkness, light; and I certainly
prefer practising a cotillon with a pu
pil, even if she’s barefooted, to shoul
dering the knot. My terms are very
moderate: but some people think abil
ity lies only skin deep; to which class
you, sir, certainly do not belong;—that
is, if 1 know anything of a well-cut
coat.”
The Little Black Porter now retired,
bowing and grinning, to a little dis
tance, leaving Charles with his ser
! vant.
“I’ll lay a pony, sir,” said Dick, “the
wagon isn’t here this half-hour.”
“Ridiculous!” exclaimeh Perry.—
Dick, however, was right; forty min
utes elapsed before the bells on the
horses’ heads wrnre heard. In another
half-hour, Godfrey’s trunk, by the exer
tions of Perry, Dick, and the Little
Black Porter, was removed from the
truck on which Caesar had brought it
from the wagon-office, and triumphant
ly deposited on the floor of a back room
in old Tuffin’s house.
Trembling with, joy Charles Perry
immediately proceeded to sever the
cords. Leaving him occupied with
that “delightful task,” we shall take
leave to carry the reader back again to
the residence of Doctor Ply mpton.
It has already been stated that young
Isabel stepped gaily into the chest.—
She continued to laugh, and actually
enjoyed the novelty of her situation,
1 for a few seconds after Godfrey Fairfax
bad closed the lid. But her courage
began to sink, from the moment she
heard the bolt of the lock shot, with
a noise, that seemed to her at once
portentous and prodigious: she even
uttered a faint scream ; but her pride
mastered her weakness in an instant,
and her exclamation of alarm termina-
ted in her usual apparently joyous, but,
perhaps, heartless laugh. Godfrey,
much to his delight, heard her tittering
during the short period he was occu
pied in securely cording up the trunk.
“Now, my dear little heroine,” whis
pered he, through the key-hole, as he
fastened the last knot, “keep up your
spirits ; let the delightful thought of
our early meeting, and years of sub
secpient bliss, support you through
this trifling ordeal. Remember,I —mark
me, Isabel!—l, who love you better
than any other living creature does —
I, who deem you the greatest treasure
on earth, —I say you are quite safe.
Do not forget that my happiness or
misery are at the mercy of your cour
age and patience, I hear someone
coming,-—Adieu! — Au revoir, my love!”
Godfrey now left the room, and con
trived todecoy Doeter Plymton, whom
he met in the passage, down stairs to
the study, where he amused the old
gentleman, by some plausible detail of
his future intentions with regard to
mathematics and the dead languages,
until the arrival of the wagon by which
the trunk was to be conveyed to town.
Meantime, an event of considerable >
importance took place in the store-room.
Isabel had made no reply to Godfrey’s
adieu; for the idea that she was so soon
! to be let! alone, entirely deprived her
of utterance; and, as the sound of his
footsteps died away on her ear, she be
gan to grow not only weary but terri
tied. Though incapable of judging of
I the real dangers of her situation, and
j blind to the impropriety of her conduct
her spirits were wofully depressed by
imaginary tarrors, which, however,
were not, for a short period, sufliciently
powerful to render her insensible to the
personal inconvenience which she suf
fered. She thought of Juliet in the
tomb, and felt sure, that were she to
fall asleep, she should go mad in the
first few moments after waking, under
the idea that she was in her coffin, and
had been buried alive. Her courage
and pride completely deserted her: she
moaned piteously, and her senses be
gan to be affected. Luckily for her,
! perhaps. George Wharton, having noth
ing else to do sauntered into the store
room, to see if Godfrey had finished
packing up. He was not a little sur
prised to hear the voice of one in deep
affliction proceed from the chest. Af
ter a moment’s hesitation, during which
j he almost doubted the evidence of his
| ears, lie knocked on the lid and inquired
if any one were within. It is almost
I heedless to say, that the reply was in
; the affirmative.
“ What trick is this ?” exclaimed
■ George. “Who is it ?”
“ Oh ! dear Mr. Wharton ! pray let
] me out,” cried Isabel.
“Good Heavens! Isabel!—l’ll fly
I for asssistance.”
“No; not for worlds! I could not
wait for it. • Cut the cords and break
I open the chest this momens, or I shall
| die.”
W ith the aid of a pocket-knife and
the poker, George soon emancipated
Isabel from her place of confinement.
Pale and sobbing she sank into his
arms, and vowed eternal gratitude to
her kind deliverer, whom, she said, not-