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awniM Mfiitti unmm TERMS, $2,00 PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE. 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-