OFF-HAND SKETCHES

A little dashed with humour

By

T. S. Arthur

PHILADELPHIA:

1851. 

PREFACE. 

THE reader cannot but smile at some of the phases of life presentedin this volume. Yet the smile will, in no case, the author thinks, be at the expense of humanity, good feeling, or virtue. Many of theincidents given, are facts embellished by a few touches of fancy. Inall, lessons may be read that some, at least, will do well to lay toheart. 

CONTENTS. 

 THE CIRCUIT-PREACHER THE PROTEST RETRENCHMENT; OR, WHAT A MAN SAVED BY STOPPING HIS NEWSPAPER HUNTING UP A TESTIMONIAL TRYING TO BE A GENTLEMAN TAKING A PRESCRIPTION THE YANKEE AND THE DUTCHMAN; OR, I'LL GIVE OR TAKE A TIPSY PARSON MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING; OR, THE REASON WHY MRS. TODD DIDN'T SPEAK TO MRS. JONES ALMOST A TRAGEDY THAT JOHN MASON A NEW WAY TO COLLECT AN OLD DEBT A SHOCKING BAD MEMORY DRIVING A HARD BARGAIN OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN INTO THE FIRE; OR, THE LOVE OF A HOUSE MARRYING A COUNT JOB'S COMFORTERS; OR, THE LADY WITH NERVES THE CODE OF HONOUR TREATING A CASE ACTIVELY

OFF-HAND SKETCHES. 

THE CIRCUIT-PREACHER. 

THE Methodist circuit-preacher is in the way of seeing human naturein many rare and curious aspects. Under the itinerating system, theUnited States are divided into conferences, districts, and circuits. The conference usually embraces a State, the district a certaindivision of the State or conference, and the circuit a portion ofthe district. To every circuit is assigned a preacher, who isexpected to provide himself with a horse, and his duty is to passround his circuit regularly at appointed seasons through the year, and meet the members of the church at the various places of worshipestablished on the circuit. Every year, he attends the annualconference of preachers, at which one of the bishops presides, andis liable to be assigned a new circuit, in the selection of which, as a general thing, he has no choice--the bishop making all theappointments; and so, term after term, he goes to a new place, amongstrangers. Before any strong attachments can be formed, the relationbetween him and his people is severed; and he begins, as it were, life anew, hundreds of miles away, it may be, from any former fieldof labour. To a married man, this system is one involving greatself-denial and sacrifice, assuming often a painful character. 

In those circuits that embrace wealthy and populous sections of thecountry, the Methodist minister is well taken care of; but there aremany other sections, where the people are not only very poor, butindifferent to matters of religion, ignorant in the extreme, and notover-burdened with kind or generous feelings. On circuits of thischaracter, the preacher meets sometimes with pretty rough treatment;and if, for his year's service, he is able to get, being, we willsuppose, a single man, fifty or sixty dollars in money, he may thinkhimself pretty well off. 

To one of these hard circuits, a preacher, whom we shall call theRev. Mr. Odell, of the New Jersey conference, found himself assignedby the bishop who presided at the annual conference. The change wasfelt as pretty severe, he having been on a comfortable station fortwo years; but as he must take the evil with the good, heconscientiously repressed all natural regrets and murmurings, and, as in duty bound, started, at the close of the conference, for hisnew field of labour. A day or two before leaving, and after theappointments were announced, Mr. Odell said to the brother who hadridden that circuit during the previous year--"So, I am to follow inyour footsteps?"

"It appears so, " was the brief reply. 

"How did you like the circuit?"

"I am very well pleased to change. "

"Not much encouragement in that answer. "

"We can't all have good places. Some of us must take our turn in thehighways and byways of the land. "

"True; I am not disposed to complain. I have taken up the cross, andmean to bear it to the end, if possible, without a murmur. "

"As we all should. Well, brother Odell, if you pass the year on thecircuit without a murmur, your faith and firmness will be strong. Ican assure you that it will be more than I did--a great deal more. "

"I have been among some pretty rough people in my time. "

"So have I; but"--and he checked himself; "however, I will notprejudice your mind; it would be wrong. They do as well, I suppose, as they know how, and the best can do no more. "

"Truly said. And the more rude, ignorant, and selfish they are, themore need they have of gospel instruction, and the more willingshould we be to break the bread of life for them. If our Master hadnot even 'where to lay his head, ' it ill becomes us to murmurbecause every natural good is not spread out before us. "

In this state of mind, Odell went to his new circuit. Havingdeposited his family, consisting of a wife and one child, in thelittle village of S--, with a kind brother, who offered them ahome at a mere nominal board, he mounted his horse and started forthon a three weeks' tour among the members of the church to whom hewas to minister, during the next twelve months, in holy things. Thefirst preaching-place was ten miles distant, and the littlemeeting-house stood on the roadside, nearly a mile from anydwelling, and in an exceedingly poor district of country. 

Before leaving S--, Mr. Odell made inquiries of the brother atwhose house he was staying, in regard to the route he was to take, and the people among whom he was going. As to the route, all thatwas made satisfactory enough; but the account given of the peoplewas not encouraging in a very high degree. 

"The fact is, " said the brother, rather warmly, "it's my opinionthat they don't deserve to have the gospel preached among them. "

To this, however, the preacher very naturally demurred, and saidthat he was not sent to call the righteous, but sinners, torepentance. 

"Where will I stop to-night?" he inquired. It was Saturdayafternoon, and on Sunday morning he was to preach at his firstappointment. 

"Well, " said the brother, slowly and thoughtfully, "I can tell youwhere you ought to stop, but I don't know you will be so welcomethere as at a poorer place. Brother Martin is better able toentertain the preachers comfortably than any one else in thatsection; but I believe he has never invited them home, and they havegenerally gone to the house of a good widow-lady, named Russell, whose barrel of meal and cruse of oil deserve never to fail. She isabout the only real Christian among them. "

"Is brother Martin a farmer?"

"Yes, and comfortably off; but how he ever expects to get his loadof selfishness into heaven, is more than I can tell. "

"You must not be uncharitable, brother, " said Odell. 

"I know that; but truth is truth. However, you must see and judgefor yourself. I think you had better go to the house of sisterRussell, who will welcome you with all her heart, and give you thebest she has. "

"And I want no more, " said the preacher. 

After getting precise directions for finding sister Russell, hestarted on his journey. It was nearly five o'clock, and he made hiscalculation to reach sister Russell's by seven, where he wouldremain all night, and go with her to the preaching-place on Sundaymorning. He had not, however, been half an hour on his journey, before heavy masses of deep blue clouds began to roll up from thehorizon and spread over the sky; and ere he had accomplished halfthe distance he was going, large drops of rain began to fall, as thebeginning of a heavy storm. The preacher was constrained to turnaside and seek the shelter of a farm-house, where he was receivedwith much kindness. 

Night-fall brought no abatement of the tempest. The lightning stillblazed out in broad masses of fire, the thunder jarred and rattledamid the clouds like parks of artillery, and the rain continued topour down unceasingly. The invitation to remain all night, which thefarmer and his wife tendered in all sincerity, was not, of course, declined by the preacher. 

In the morning, after being served with a plentiful breakfast, Odellreturned his warmest thanks for the kindness he had received, andproceeded on his journey. He had five miles to ride; but it was onlyhalf-past eight o'clock when he started, and as the hour forpreaching was ten, there was plenty of time for him to proceed athis leisure. As sister Russell lived nearly a mile away from adirect course, he did not turn aside to call upon her, but went onto the meeting-house. On reaching the little country church, Mr. Odell found a small company of men assembled in front of the humblebuilding, who looked at him curiously, and with something of shynessin their manner, as he rode up and dismounted. No one offering totake his horse, he led him aside to a little grove and tied thereins to a tree. One or two of the men nodded, distantly, as hepassed them on his way to the meeting-house door, but none of themspoke to him. 

On entering the meeting-house, Mr. Odell found some thirty personsassembled, most of them women. If there were any "official members"present, they made themselves in no way officious in regard to thepreacher, who, after pausing at the door leading into the littlealtar or chancel for a short time, and looking around with anexpression of inquiry on his face, ascended the pulpit-stairs andtook his seat. All was as silent, almost, as if the house had beentenantless. 

In a little while, the preacher arose and gave out a hymn; but therewas no one to raise the tune. One looked at another uneasily; sundrypersons coughed and cleared their throats, but all remained silent. Odell was not much of a singer, but had practised on "Old Hundred"so much, that he could lead that air very well; and the hymnhappening, by good luck, to be set to a long-metre tune, he was ableto start it. This done, the congregation joined in, and the singingwent off pretty well. After praying and reading a chapter in theBible, Odell sat down to collect his thoughts for the sermon, whichwas, of course, to be extempore, as Methodist sermons usually are. It is customary for the choir, if there is one, to sing an anthemduring this pause; or, where no singers are set apart, for somemembers to strike up an appropriate hymn, in which the congregationjoins. On this occasion, all was silent. After the lapse of a fewminutes, Mr. Odell arose, and turning, in the Bible, to the chapterwhere the text, from which he was to preach, was recorded, read theverse that was to form the groundwork of his remarks. Before openingthe subject, he stated, briefly, that he was the preacher who was tolabour among them during the ensuing year, and hoped, in the DivineProvidence, that good, both to them and to him, would result fromthe new spiritual relations that were about to be commenced. Thenproceeding with his discourse, he preached to and exhorted them withgreat earnestness, but without seeming to make any impression. Notan "amen" was heard from any part of the house; not an eye grewmoist; not an audible groan or sigh disturbed the air. Nothingresponded to his appeals but the echo of his own voice. 

Never had the preacher delivered a discourse in which he felt solittle freedom. His words came back upon his ears with a kind of adull reverberation, as if the hearts of his hearers were of ice, instead of flesh. 

Before singing the last hymn, which Mr. Odell gave out at theconclusion of the sermon, he announced that he would hold aclass-meeting. After he had finally pronounced the benediction, there was a general movement towards the door; only seven remained, and these were all female members, most of them pretty well advancedin their life-journey. Mr. Martin was at the meeting, but ere thepreacher had descended the pulpit-stairs, he was out of the houseand preparing to leave for home. 

"Where is the new preacher going?" asked a member, of Mr. Martin, ashe led out his horse. 

"To sister Russell's, I presume. "

"Sister Russell is not here. "

"Isn't she?"

"No; she's sick. "

"He stayed there last night, I suppose, and will go back afterclass. " Martin sprang upon his horse as he said this. 

"We ought to be sure of it, " remarked the other. 

"I can't invite him home, " said Martin. "If I do, I shall have himthrough the whole year, and that is not convenient. The preachershave always stayed at sister Russell's, and there is no reason whythey shouldn't continue to do so. "

"I haven't a corner to put him in, " remarked the other. "Besides, these preachers are too nice for me. "

"It's all right, no doubt, " said Martin, as he balanced himself inhis saddle; "all right. He stayed at sister Russell's last evening, and will go back and stay there until to-morrow morning. Get 'up, Tom!" And, with this self-satisfying remark, the farmer rode away. 

The man with whom he had been talking, was, like him, a member; and, like him, had omitted to attend class, in order to shift off uponsome one else the burden of entertaining the new preacher; forwhoever first tendered him the hospitalities of his house and tablewould most probably have to do it through the year. He, too, rodeoff, and left others to see that the preacher was duly cared for. Anicy coldness pervaded the class-meeting. 

Only four, out of the seven sisters, one of whom was an old blackwoman, could muster up courage enough to tell, in answer to thepreacher's call, the "dealing of God" with their souls; and only twoof them could effect an utterance louder than a whisper. What theydid say had in it but little coherence, and Mr. Odell had to contenthimself with an exhortation to each, of a general rather than aparticular character. When the hymn was sung at the close, only onethin voice joined in the song of praise, and not a sob or sigh washeard in response to his prayer. The class-paper showed the names ofthirty members, but here were only seven! This was ratherdiscouraging for a commencement. Mr. Odell hardly knew what courseto take; whether to stir up with some pretty sharp remarks thelittle company of believers who were present, and thus seek toimpress the whole through them; or to wait until he came roundagain, and have a good chance at them from the pulpit. He concludedin the end, that the last course might be the best one. 

In calling over the names on the class-paper he found that sisterRussell was absent. On dismissing the meeting, all except the oldblack woman retired. She lingered, however, to shake hands with thenew preacher, and to show him that, if she was old, her teeth weregood, and her eyes bright and lively. 

On emerging into the open air, Odell saw the last of his flockslowly retiring from the scene of worship. For two of the women, their husbands had waited on the outside of the meeting-house, andthey had taken into their wagons two other women who lived nearthem. These wagons were already in motion, when the preacher cameout followed by the old black woman, who it now appeared, had thekey of the meeting-house door, which she locked. 

"Then you are the sexton, Aunty, " remarked Odell, with a smile. 

"Yes, massa, I keeps de key. "

"Well, Nancy, " said Odell, who had already made up his mind what hewould do, "I am going home to dinner with you. "

"Me, massa!" Old Nancy looked as much surprised as a startled hare. 

"Yes. You see they've all gone and left me, and I feel hungry. You'll give me some of your dinner?"

"Yes, massa, please God! I'll give you all of it--but, it's onlypork and hominy. "

"Very good; and it will be all the sweeter because I am welcome. "

"'Deed massa, and you is welcome, five hundred times over! But itwas a downright shame for all de white folks to go off so. I neverseed such people. "

"Never mind, Nancy, don't trouble yourself; I shall be well enoughtaken care of. I'll trust to you for that. "

And so Mr. Odell mounted his horse, and accompanied the old womanhome. She lived rather over a mile from the meeting-house--and theway was past the comfortable residence of Mr. Martin. The latter didnot feel altogether satisfied with himself as he rode home. He wasnot certain that the preacher had stayed at sister Russell's thenight before. He might have ridden over from S-- since morning. This suggestion caused him to feel rather more uneasy in mind; for, if this were the case, it was doubtful whether, after class wasover, there would be any one to invite him home. 

"What kind of a man is the new preacher?" asked Mrs. Martin of herhusband, on his return from meeting. 

"He seemed like a very good sort of man, " replied Martin, indifferently. 

"Is he young or old?"

"He's about my age, I should think. "

"Married?"

"I'm sure I don't know. "

"Did you speak to him?"

"No, I came away after the sermon. "

"Then you didn't stop to class?"

"No. "

"Sister Russell was not there, of course?"

"No; she's sick. "

"So I heard. The preacher didn't stay at her house last night. "

"How do you know?"

"Mrs. Williams called in while you were away. She had just been tosister Russell's. "

"And the new preacher didn't stay at her house last night?"

"No. Mrs. Williams asked particularly. "

"He must have ridden over from S-- this morning. I am sorry Ididn't wait and ask him to come home and stay with us. "

"I wish you had. Sister Russell is too sick to have him at herhouse, if he should go there. Who stayed to class-meeting?"

"Not over half a dozen, and they were all women. I left Bill Taylorand Harry Chester waiting outside for their wives. "

"They wouldn't ask him home. "

"No; and if they did, I should be sorry to have him go there. I wishI had stayed in, and invited him home. But it can't be helped now, and there's no use in fretting over it. "

Soon after this, dinner was announced, and the farmer sat down withhis family to a table loaded with good and substantial things. Heate and enjoyed himself; though not as highly as he would have done, had not thoughts of the new preacher intruded themselves. 

After dinner, Martin took a comfortable nap, which lasted about anhour. He then went out and took a little walk to himself. Whilestanding at the gate, which opened from his farm on to the countyroad, a man, who lived half a mile below, came along. This man wasnot a member of any church, and took some delight, at times, inhaving his jest with professors of religion. 

"Fine afternoon, Mr. Ellis, " said Martin, as the man stopped. 

"Very fine. How are you all?"

"Quite well. Any news stirring?"

"Why, no, not much. Only they say that the Methodists about herehave all joined the Amalgamation Society. "

"Who says so?" inquired Martin, slightly colouring. 

"Well, they say it down our way. I thought it was only a joke, atfirst. But a little while after dinner, Aunt Nancy's Tom came overto my house for some oats and hay for your new minister's horse. Hesaid the preachers were going to stop at the old woman's after this. I half-doubted the rascal's story, though I let him have theprovender. Sure enough, as I came along just now, who should I seebut the preacher sitting before the door of old Nancy's log-hut, asmuch at home as if his skin were the colour of ebony. These arerather queer doings, friend Martin; I don't know what folks 'llsay. "

We will not pause to describe the astonishment and confusion ofMartin, on learning this, but step down to Aunt Nancy's, whereOdell, after dining on pork and hominy, with the addition ofpotatoes and corn-bread, was sitting in the shade before the logcabin of the old negro. The latter was busy as a bee inside inpreparation of something for the preacher's supper, that she thoughtwould be more suited to his mode of living and appetite, than pork, corn-bread, and hominy. 

Odell was rather more inclined to feel amused than annoyed at hisnew position. Aunt Nancy's dinner had tasted very good; and had beensweetened rather than spoiled by the old creature's loquaciouskindness and officious concern, lest what she had to set before himwould not be relished. While he thus sat musing--the subject of histhoughts is of no particular consequence to be known--his attentionwas arrested by hearing Aunt Nancy exclaim--

"Ki! Here comes Massa Martin!"

The preacher turned his head and saw a man approaching with thedecided and rather quick step of one who had something on his mind. 

"Is that brother Martin?" asked Mr. Odell, calling to Aunt Nancy, who was near the window of her hut. 

"Yes, please goodness! Wonder what he comin' here 'bout. "

"We'll soon see, " returned the preacher, composing himself in hischair. 

In a few minutes, the farmer, looking sadly "flustered, " arrived atthe door of the old negro's humble abode. Odell kept his seat withan air of entire self-possession and unconcern, and looked at thenew comer as he would have done at any other stranger. 

"Mr. Odell, the new preacher on this circuit?" said Martin, in arespectful manner, as he advanced towards the minister. 

"Yes, sir, " replied Odell, without rising or evincing any surpriseat the question. 

"I am very sorry indeed, sir! very sorry, " began Martin in adeprecating and troubled voice, "that you should have been so badlyneglected as you were to-day. I had no idea--I never oncethought--the preachers have always stayed at sister Russell's--Itook it for granted that you were there. To think you should nothave been invited home by any one! I am mortified to death. "

"Oh, no, " returned the preacher, smiling; "it is not quite so bad asthat. Our good old sister here very kindly tendered me thehospitalities of her humble home, which I accepted gratefully. Noone could be kinder to me than she has been--no one could have givenme a warmer welcome. "

"But--but, " stammered forth Martin, "this is no place for a preacherto stay. "

"A far better place than my Lord and Master had. _The foxes haveholes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man hathnot where to lay his head. _ The servant must not seek to be greaterthan his Lord. "

"But my dear sir! my house is a far more suitable and congenial homefor you, " urged the distressed brother Martin. "You must go homewith me at once. My wife is terribly hurt about the matter. Shewould have come over for you herself, but she is not very wellto-day. "

"Tell the good sister, " replied Odell, affecting not to know theindividual before him, "that I am so comfortable here; that I cannotthink of changing my quarters. Besides, after Aunt Nancy has been sokind as to invite me home, and provide for both me and my horse, when no one else took the least notice of me, nor seemed to carewhether I got the shelter of a roof or a mouthful of food, it wouldnot be right for me to turn away from her because a more comfortableplace is offered. "

It was in vain that Martin argued and persuaded. The preacher's mindwas made up to stay where he was. And he did stay with Aunt Nancyuntil the next morning, when, after praying with the old lady andgiving her his blessing, he started on his journey. 

When, at the end of four weeks, Mr. Odell again appeared at thelittle meeting-house, you may be sure he was received with markedattention. Martin was the most forward of all, and, after preachingand class-meeting--there was a pretty full attendance at both--tookthe minister home with him. Ever since that time, the preachers havebeen entertained at his house. 

THE PROTEST. 

READER! did you ever have a visit from that dreadedfunctionary--that rod in pickle, held in terrorem over the heads ofthe whole note-paying fraternity, yclepted a notary? I do not meanto insult you: so don't look so dark and dignified. I am serious. Ifno--why no, and there let the matter rest, as far as you areconcerned; if yes, why yes, and so I have an auditor who canunderstand me. 

As for me, I have been protested. I say it neither with shame norpride. Yes, I have suffered notarial visitation, and am still aliveto tell the tale. 

I was in business when the exciting event occurred, and I am stillin business, and I believe as well off as I was then. But let merelate the circumstance. 

When I first started in the world for myself, I had a few thousanddollars. In a little while, I found myself solicited on all sides tomake bills. I could have bought fifty thousand dollars' worth ofgoods as easily as to the amount of five thousand dollars; and thesmallest sum I have named was about the extent of my real capital. There was one firm importunate above the rest, and they weresuccessful in getting me into their debt more heavily than I was toany other house. If I happened to be passing their store, I would becalled in, with--

"Here, Jones, I want to show you something. New goods just in; thevery thing for your sales. "

Or--

"Ah! how are you, Jones? Can't we sell you a bill, to-day?"

They were for ever importuning me to buy, and often tempted me tomake purchases of goods that I really did not want. I was young andgreen then, and did not know any thing about shelves full of oddsand ends, and piece upon piece of unsaleable goods, all of which hadto be paid for. 

For two or three years, I managed to keep along, though not sopleasantly as if I had used my credit with less freedom. By thattime, however, the wheels of my business machinery were sadlyclogged. From a salesman behind my counter, I became a "financier. " (!)

During the best hours of the day, and when I was most wanted in thestore, I was on the street, hunting for money. It was borrow, borrow, borrow, and pay, pay, pay. My thoughts were not directedtoward the best means of making my business profitable, but wereupon the ways and means of paying my notes, that were falling duewith alarming rapidity. I was nearly all the time in the delectablestate of mind of the individual who, on running against a sailor, was threatened with being knocked "into the middle of next week. ""Do it, for heaven's sake!" he replied--"I would give the world tobe there. "

On Monday morning, I could see my way through the week no clearerthan this note-haunted sufferer. In fact, I lived a day at a time. On the first of each month, when I looked over my bill-book, andthen calculated my resources, I was appalled. I saw nothing aheadbut ruin. Still I floundered on, getting myself deeper and deeper inthe mire, and rendering my final extrication more and moredifficult. 

At last, I found that my principal creditors, who had sold me sofreely from the first, and to whom nearly the half of what I owedwas due, began to be less anxious about selling me goods. They didnot call me in, as of old, when I passed, nor did they urge me tobuy when I went to their store. Still they sent home what I ordered;but their prices, which before were the lowest in the trade, werenow above the average rates. I noticed, felt, and thought Iunderstood all this. I had been careful not to borrow money fromthat firm; still, I was borrowing, somewhere, every day, and they, of course, knew it, and began to be a little doubtful of mystability. 

At last, I was cornered on a note of a thousand dollars, due thishouse. Besides this note, I had fifteen hundred dollars of borrowedmoney to pay. At nine o'clock, I started forth, leaving goodcustomers in the store, to whom no one could attend as well asmyself. By twelve o'clock, I was able to return my borrowed money, and had the promise of a thousand dollars by half-past one. Untilhalf-past one I waited, when a note came from the friend who hadpromised the loan, informing me with many expressions of regret, that he had been disappointed, and, therefore, could not accommodateme. 

Here was a dilemma, indeed. Half-past one o'clock, and a thousanddollars to raise; but there was no time for regrets. I started forthwith a troubled heart, and not feeling very sanguine of success. Borrowing money is far from being pleasant employment, and is onlyendurable as a less evil than not meeting your obligations. For thatday, I had thought my trials on this head over; but I erred. I hadagain to put on my armour of _brass_ and go forth to meet coldness, rebuffs, and polite denials. Alas! I got no more; not a dollarrewarded my earnest efforts. Two o'clock found me utterlydiscouraged. Then, for the first time, it occurred to me to go tothe holders of the note and frankly tell them that I could not liftit. 

"But that will ruin your credit with them. "

Yes, that was the rub; and then it was so mortifying a resource. After a short space of hurried reflection, I concluded that as I hadtwice as much credit in other quarters as it was prudent to use, Iwould ask a renewal of the note, which would be a great relief. Itwas better, certainly, than to suffer a protest. At the thought of aprotest I shuddered, and started to see the parties to whom the notewas due, feeling much as I suppose a culprit feels when about beingarraigned for trial. It was twenty minutes past two when I called attheir store. 

"I am sorry, " I said to one of the firm, whom I first met, speakingin a husky, agitated voice, "to inform you that I shall not be ableto lift my note that falls due to-day. "

His brows fell instantly. 

"I had made every arrangement to meet it, " I continued, "and was toreceive the money at one o'clock to-day, but was unexpectedlydisappointed. I have tried since to raise the amount, but find ittoo late in the day. "

The man's brows fell still lower, while his eyes remained steadilyfixed upon my face. 

"I shall have to ask you to extend it for me. "

"I don't think we can do that, " he coldly replied. 

"Will you consult your partners?" I said; "time presses. "

The man bowed stiffly, his aspect about as pleasing as if I hadrobbed him, and turned away. I was standing near the door of thecounting-room, inside of which were his two partners, with whom hehad retired to confer. 

"Jones can't pay his note, " I heard him say, in tones mostunpleasant to my ear. 

"What!" was replied; "Jones?"

"Yes, Jones. "

"What does he want?"

"A renewal. "

"Nonsense! He can pay, if he finds he must. "

"It is nearly half-past two, " one of them remarked. 

"No matter. It's of too much importance to him to keep his goodname; he'll find somebody to help him. Threaten him with a protest;shake that over his head, and the money'll be raised. "

With a Siberian aspect, the man returned to me. 

"Can't do any thing for you, " he said. "Sorry for it. "

"My note must lie over, then, " I replied. 

"It will be protested. "

The very sound of the word went through me like an arrow. I felt theperspiration starting from every pore; but I was indignant at thesame time, and answered, as firmly as I could speak--"Very well; letit be. "

"As you like, " he said, in the same cold tone, and with the samedark aspect, partly turning away as he spoke. 

"But, my dear sir"--

"It is useless to waste words, " he remarked, interrupting me. "Youhave our ultimatum. "

As I left the store, I felt as if I had been guilty of some crime; Iwas ashamed to look even the clerks in the face. A feeble resolutionto make an effort to save myself from the disgrace and disaster of aprotest stirred in my mind; but it died away, and I returned to mystore to await the dread result that must follow this failure totake up my paper. I looked at the slow-moving hand on the clock, andsaw minute after minute go by with a stoicism that surprised evenmyself. At last the stroke of the hammer fell; the die was cast. Iwould be protested, that greatest of all evils dreaded by a man ofbusiness. As to going home to dinner, that was out of the question;I could not have eaten a mouthful to save me. All I had now to dowas to wait for the visit of the notary, from which I shrank with anervous dread. Everybody in the street would know him, I thought, and everybody would see him enter my store and comprehend hisbusiness. 

Half-past three arrived, and yet I had not been bearded by the dreadmonster, at whose very name thousands have trembled and do stilltremble. I sat awaiting him in stern silence. Four o'clock, and yethe had not come. Perhaps, it was suggested to me, the holders of thenote had withdrawn it at the last moment. Cheering thought!

Just then I saw a lad enter the store and speak to one of theclerks, who pointed back to where I sat. The boy was not overfourteen, and had, I noticed as he approached, a modest, rathershrinking look. 

"Mr. Jones?" he said, when he had come near to me. 

"Yes, " I replied, indifferently, scarcely wondering what he wanted. 

"Will you pay this note?" he said, opening a piece of paper that Ihad not observed in his hand, and presenting it to me. 

My head was in a whirl for an instant, but was as quickly clearagain. 

"No, my lad, " I replied, in a composed voice, "I shall not pay it. "

"You will not pay it?" he repeated, as if he had not heard medistinctly. 

"No, " said I. 

The lad bowed politely, slipped the dishonoured note into hispocket, and retired. 

I drew a long breath, leaned back in my chair with a sense ofrelief, and murmured--"Not such a dreadful affair, after all. So, Iam protested! The operation is over, and I hardly felt the pain. Andnow what next?"

As I said this, the man whose Siberian face had almost congealed meentered my store, and came hurriedly back to where I still remainedsitting. His face was far less wintry. The fact was, I owed the firmfifteen thousand dollars, which was no joke; and they were nearly asmuch alarmed, when they found that my note was actually underprotest, as I was before the fact. 

"Is it possible, Mr. Jones, " he said, his voice as husky andtremulous as mine was when I called upon him an hour or two before, "that you have suffered your note to lie over!"

"Did I not inform you that such would be the case?" I replied, withassumed sternness of voice and manner. The boot was on the otherleg, and I was not slow in recognising the fact. 

"But what do you intend to do, Mr. Jones? What is the state of youraffairs?"

"At the proper time, I will inform you, " I answered, coldly. "Youhave driven me into a protest, and you must stand the consequences. "

"Are your affairs desperate, Mr. Jones?" The creditor became almostimploring in his manner. 

"They will probably become so now. Does a man's note lie overwithout his affairs becoming desperate?"

"Perhaps"--

There was a pause. I looked unflinchingly into the man's face. 

"If we extend this note, and keep the matter quiet, what then?"

"It won't do, " I returned. "More than that will be required to saveme. "

My creditor looked frightened, while I maintained an aspect of asmuch indifference and resolution as I could assume. 

"What will save you?" he asked. 

I was thinking as rapidly as I could, in order to be prepared forstriking while the iron was hot, and that to good purpose. 

"I'll tell you, " I replied. 

"Well, what is it?" He looked eager and anxious. 

"My fault has been one into which your house led me, that of buyingtoo freely, " said I; "of using my credit injudiciously. Theconsequence is, that I am cramped severely, and am neglecting mylegitimate business in order to run about after money. I owe yourhouse more than half of the aggregate of my whole liabilities. Giveme the time I ask, in order to recover myself and curtail mybusiness, and I can go through. "

"What time do you ask?"

"I owe you fifteen thousand dollars. "

"So much?"

"Yes; and the whole of it falls due within seven months. What Ipropose is, to pay you five per cent. On the amount of my presentindebtedness every thirty days from this time until the whole isliquidated; you to hand me a thousand dollars to-morrow morning, toenable me to get my note out of bank, in order to save my credit. "

The gentleman looked blank at the boldness of my proposition. 

"Is that the best you can do?" he asked. 

"The very best. You have driven me into a protest, and now, thebitterness of that dreaded ordeal being past, I prefer making anassignment and having my affairs settled up, to going on in the oldway. I will not continue in business, unless I can conduct it easilyand safely. I am sick of being on the rack; I would rather grub fora living. "

I was eloquent in my tone and manner, for I felt what I said. 

"It shall be as you wish, " said my creditor. "You should not, youmust not, make an assignment; every interest will suffer in thatevent. We will send you a check for a thousand dollars earlyto-morrow morning, and, as to what has occurred, keep our owncounsel. "

I bowed, and he bowed. I was conscious of having risen in hisestimation. Get such a man in your power, and his respect for youincreases fourfold. 

My sleep was sound that night, for I was satisfied that the thousanddollars would come. And they did come. 

After that, I was as easy as an old shoe. I was soon off theborrowing list; my business I contracted into a narrower and safersphere, and really made more profit than before. 

I have never stood in fear of notaries or protests since. Why shouldI? To me the notary proved a lamb rather than a lion, and my credit, instead of being ruined, was saved by a protest. 

RETRENCHMENT;

OR, WHAT A MAN SAVED BY STOPPING HIS NEWSPAPER. 

NOT many years ago, a farmer who lived a hundred or two miles fromthe seaboard, became impressed with the idea that unless he adopteda close-cutting system of retrenchment, he would certainly go to thewall. Wheat, during the preceding season, had been at a high price;but, unluckily for him, he had only a small portion of his land inwheat. Of corn and potatoes he had raised more than the usualquantity; but the price of corn was down, and potatoes were low. This year he had sown double the wheat he had ever sown before, and, instead of raising a thousand bushels of potatoes, as he hadgenerally done, only planted about an acre in that vegetable, theproduct of which was about one hundred and fifty bushels. 

Unluckily for Mr. Ashburn, his calculations did not turn out well. After his wheat was harvested, and his potatoes nearly ready to dig, the price of the former fell to ninety cents per bushel, and theprice of the latter rose to one dollar. Everywhere, the wheat crophad been abundant, and almost everywhere the potato crop promised tobe light. 

Mr. Ashburn was sadly disappointed at this result. 

"I shall be ruined, " he said at home, and carried a long face whileabroad. When his wife and daughters asked for money with which toget their fall and winter clothing, he grumbled sadly, gave themhalf what they wanted, and said they must retrench. A day or twoafterwards, the collector of the "Post" came along and presented hisbill. 

Ashburn paid it in a slow, reluctant manner, and then said--

"I wish you to have the paper stopped, Mr. Collector. "

"Oh, no, don't say that, Mr. Ashburn. You are one of our oldsubscribers, and we can't think of parting with you. "

"Sorry to give up the paper. But must do it, " returned the farmer. 

"Isn't it as good as ever? You used to say you'd rather give up adinner a week than the 'Post. '"

"Oh, yes, it's as good as ever, and sometimes I think much betterthan it was. It's a great pleasure to read it. But I must retrenchat every point, and then I don't see how I'm to get along. Wheat'sdown to ninety cents, and falling daily. "

"But the paper is only two dollars a year, Mr. Ashburn. "

"I know. But two dollars are two dollars. However, it's no use totalk, Mr. Collector; the 'Post' must be stopped. If I have betterluck next year, I will subscribe for it again. "

This left the collector nothing to urge, and he withdrew. In hisnext letter to the publishers, he ordered the paper to bediscontinued, which was accordingly done. 

Of this little act of retrenchment, Jane, Margaret, and Phoebe knewnothing at the time, and the farmer was rather loathe to tell them. When the fact did become known, as it must soon, he expected abuzzing in the hive, and the anticipation of this made him halfrepent of what he had done, and almost wish that the collector wouldforget to notify the office of his wish to have the paper stopped. But, the collector was a prompt man. On the second Saturday morning, Ashburn went to the post-office as usual. The postmaster handed hima letter, saying, as he did so--

"I can't find any paper for you, to-day. They have made amistake in not mailing it this week. "

"No, " replied Ashburn. "I have stopped it. "

"Indeed! The Post is an excellent paper. What other one do youintend to take?"

"I shall not take any newspaper this year, " replied Ashburn. 

"Not take a newspaper, Mr. Ashburn!" said the postmaster, with alook and in a tone of surprise. 

"No. I must retrench. I must cut off all superfluous expenses. And Ibelieve I can do without a newspaper as well as any thing else. It'sa mere luxury; though a very pleasant one, I own, but stilldispensable. "

"Not a luxury, but a necessary, I say, and indispensable, " returnedthe postmaster. "I don't know what I wouldn't rather do without thana newspaper. What in the world are Phoebe, and Jane, and Margaretgoing to do?"

"They will have to do without. There is no help for it. "

"If they don't raise a storm about your ears that you will be gladto allay, even at the cost of half a dozen newspapers, I ammistaken, " said the postmaster, laughing. 

Ashburn replied, as he turned to walk away, that he thought he couldface all storms of that kind without flinching. 

"Give me the 'Post, ' papa, " said Margaret, running to the door tomeet her father when she saw him coming. 

"I haven't got it, " replied Mr. Ashburn, feeling ratheruncomfortable. 

"Why? Hasn't it come?"

"No; is hasn't come. "

Margaret looked very much disappointed. 

"It has never missed before, " she said, looking earnestly at herfather. 

No suspicion of the truth was in her mind; but, to the eyes of herfather, her countenance was full of suspicion. Still, he had not thecourage to confess what he had done. 

"The 'Post' hasn't come!" he heard Margaret say to her sisters, afew minutes afterwards, and their expressions of disappointment fellrebukingly upon his ears. 

It seemed to Mr. Ashburn that he heard of little else, while in thehouse, during the whole day, but the failure of the newspaper. Whennight came, even he, as he sat with nothing to do but think aboutthe low price of wheat for an hour before bedtime, missed his oldfriend with the welcome face, that had so often amused, instructed, and interested him. 

On Monday morning the girls were very urgent for their father toride over to the post-office and see if the paper hadn't come; but, of course, the farmer was "too busy" for that. On Tuesday andWednesday, the same excuse was made. On Thursday, Margaret asked aneighbour, who was going by the office, to call and get thenewspaper for them. Towards evening, Mr Markland, the neighbour, wasseen riding down the road, and Margaret and Jane ran down eagerly tothe gate for the newspaper. 

"Did you get the paper for us?" asked Margaret, showing two smilingrows of milk-white teeth, while her eyes danced with anticipatedpleasure. 

Mr. Markland shook his head. 

"Why?" asked both the girls at once. 

"The postmaster says it has been stopped. "

"Stopped!" How changed were their faces and tones of voice. 

"Yes. He says your father directed it to be stopped. "

"That must be a mistake, " said Margaret. "He would have told us. "

Mr. Markland rode on, and the girls ran back into the house. 

"Father, the postmaster says you have stopped the newspaper!"exclaimed his daughters, breaking in upon Mr. Ashburn's no verypleasant reflections on the low price of wheat, and the differencein the return he would receive at ninety cents a bushel to what hewould have realized at the last year's price of a dollartwenty-five. 

"It's true, " he replied, trenching himself behind a firm, decidedmanner. 

"But why did you stop it, father?" inquired the girls. 

"Because I can't afford to take it. It's as much, as I shall be ableto do to get you enough to eat and wear this year. "

Mr. Ashburn's manner was decided, and his voice had a repellingtone. 

Margaret and Phoebe could say no more; but they did not leave theirfather's presence without giving his eyes the benefit of seeing afree gush of tears. It would be doing injustice to Mr. Ashburn'sstate of mind to say that he felt very comfortable, or had done so, since stopping the "Post, " an act for which he had sundry times morethan half repented. But, as it had been done, he could not think ofrecalling it. 

Very sober were the faces that surrounded the supper-table thatevening; and but few words were spoken. Mr. Ashburn felt oppressed, and also fretted to think that his daughters should make boththemselves and him unhappy about the trifle of a newspaper, when hehad such serious troubles to bear. 

On the next Saturday, as Mr. Ashburn was walking over his farm, hesaw a man sitting on one of his fences, dressed in a jockey-cap, andwearing a short hunting-coat. He had a rifle over his shoulder, andcarried a powder-flask, shot and bird bags. In fact, he was a fullyequipped sportsman, a somewhat _rara avis_ in those parts. 

"What's this lazy fellow doing here?" said Ashburn, to himself. "Iwonder where he comes from?"

"Good morning, neighbour, " spoke out the stranger, in a familiarway, as soon as the farmer came within speaking distance. "Is thereany good game about here? Any wild-turkeys, or pheasants?"

"There are plenty of squirrels, " returned Ashburn, a littlesarcastically, "and the woods are full of robbins. "

"Squirrels make a first-rate pie. But I needn't tell you that, myfriend. Every farmer knows the taste of squirrels, " said thesportsman with great good-humour. "Still, I want to try my hand at awild-turkey. I've come off here into the country to have a crack atgame better worth the shooting than we get in the neighbourhood ofP--. "

"You're from P--, then?" said the farmer. 

"Yes, I live in P--. "

"When did you leave there?"

"Four or five weeks ago. "

"Then you don't know what wheat is selling for now?"

"Wheat? No. I think it was ninety-five or a dollar, I don't rememberwhich, when I left. "

"Ninety is all it is selling for here. "

"Ninety! I should like to buy some at that. "

"I have no doubt you can be accommodated, " replied the farmer. 

"That is exceedingly low for wheat. If it wasn't for having a week'ssport among your wild-turkeys, and the hope of being able to kill adeer, I'd stop and buy up a lot of wheat on speculation. "

"I'll sell you five hundred bushels at ninety-two, " said the farmer, half-hoping that this green customer might be tempted to buy at thisadvance upon the regular rate. 

"Will you?" interrogated the stranger. 

"Yes. "

"I'm half-tempted to take you up. I really believe I--no!--I mustknock over some wild-turkeys first. It won't do to come this farwithout bagging rarer game than wheat. I believe I must decline, friend. "

"What would you say to ninety-one?" The farmer had heard a rumour, aday or two before, of a fall of two or three cents in wheat, and ifhe could get off five hundred bushels upon this sportsman, who hadlet the breast of his coat fly open far enough to give a glimpse ofa large, thick pocketbook, at ninety-one, it would be quite adesirable operation. 

"Ninety-one--ninety-one, " said the stranger, to himself. "That is atemptation! I can turn a penny on that. But the wild-turkeys; I musthave a crack at a wild-turkey or a deer. I think, friend, " he added, speaking louder, "that I will have some sport in these parts for afew days first. Then, maybe, I'll buy up a few thousand bushels ofwheat, if the prices haven't gone up. "

"I shouldn't wonder if prices advanced a little, " said the farmer. 

"Wouldn't you?" And the stranger looked into the farmer's face witha very innocent expression. 

"It can't go much lower; if there should be any change, it willdoubtless be an improvement. "

"How much wheat have you?" asked the sportsman. 

"I've about a thousand bushels left. "

"A thousand bushels. Ninety cents; nine hundred dollars;--I'll tellyou what, friend, since talking to you has put me into the notion oftrying my hand at a speculation on wheat, I'll just make you anoffer, which you may accept or not, just as you please. I'll giveyou ninety cents cash for all you've got, one half payable now, andthe other half on delivery of the wheat at the canal, provided youget extra force and deliver it immediately. "

Ashburn stood thoughtful for a moment or two, and then replied--

"Very well, sir, it's a bargain. "

"Which, to save time, we will close immediately. I will go with youto your house, and pay you five hundred dollars on the whole billfor a thousand bushels. "

The farmer had no objection to this, of course, and invited thestranger to go to his house with him, where the five hundred dollarswere soon counted out. For this amount of money he wrote a receiptand handed it to the stranger, who, after reading it, said--

"I would prefer your making out a bill for a thousand bushels, andwriting on it, 'Received on account, five hundred dollars. '"

"It may overrun that quantity, " said Ashburn. 

"No matter, a new bill can be made out for that. I'll take all youhave. "

The farmer saw no objection to the form proposed by the stranger, and therefore tore up the receipt he had written, and made a billout in the form desired. 

"Will you commence delivering to-day?" inquired the sportsman, whoall at once began to manifest a marked degree of interest in thebusiness. 

"Yes, " replied the farmer. 

"How many wagons have you?"

"Two. "

"As it is down hill all the way to the canal, they can easily take ahundred bushels each. "

"Oh, yes. "

"Very well. They can make two loads apiece to-day, and, by startingearly, three loads apiece on Monday, which will transfer the wholethousand bushels to the canal. I will go down immediately and seethat a boat is ready to commence loading. You can go to work atonce. "

By extra effort, the wheat was all delivered by Monday afternoon, and the balance of the purchase-money paid. As Mr. Ashburn wasriding home, a neighbour who had noticed his wagons going past hishouse with wheat for the two days, overtook him. 

"So I see, friend Ashburn, that, like me, you are content to takethe first advance of the market, instead of running the risk of adecline for a further rise in prices. What did you get for yourwheat?"

"I sold for ninety cents. "

"Ninety cents!" exclaimed the neighbour. "Surely you didn't sell forthat?"

"I certainly did. I tried to get ninety-two, but ninety was thehighest offer I could obtain. "

"Ninety cents! Why, what has come over you, Ashburn. Wheat isselling for a dollar and twenty cents. I've just sold five hundredbushels for that. "

"Impossible!" ejaculated the farmer. 

"Not at all impossible. Don't you know that by the last arrival fromEngland have come accounts of a bad harvest, and that wheat hastaken a sudden rise?"

"No, I don't know any such a thing, " returned the astonishedAshburn. 

"Well, it's so. Where is your newspaper?--Haven't you read it? I gotmine on Friday evening, and saw the news. Early on Saturday morningI found two or three speculators ready to buy up all the wheat theycould get at old prices; but they didn't make many operations. Onefellow who pretended to be a fancy sportsman, thrust himself into myway, but, even if I had not know of a rise in the price of wheat, Ishould have suspected it as soon as I saw him, for I read, lastweek, of just such a looking chap as him having got ahead of someignorant country farmers by buying up their produce, on a suddenrise of the market, at price much below its real value. "

"Good day!" said Ashburn, suddenly applying his whip to the flank ofhis horse; and away dashed homeward at a full gallop. 

The farmer never sat down to make a regular calculation of what hehad lost by stopping his news paper; but it required no formality ofpencil and paper to arrive at this. A difference of thirty cents oneach bushel, made, for a thousand bushels, the important sum ofthree hundred dollars, and this fact his mind instantly saw. 

By the next mail, he enclosed two dollars to the publishers of the"Post, " and re-ordered the paper. He will, doubtless, think a goodwhile, and retrench at a good many points, before he orders an otherdiscontinuance. 

HUNTING UP A TESTIMONIAL. 

"DOCTOR, " said a man with a thin, sallow countenance, pale lips, andleaden eyes, coming up to the counter of a drug-store in Baltimore, some ten years ago--"Doctor, I've been reading your advertisementabout the 'UNIVERSAL RESTORER, AND BALSAM OF LIFE, ' and if that Mr. John Johnson's testimony is to be relied on, it ought to suit mycase, for, in describing his own sufferings, he has exactlydescribed mine. But I've spent so much money in medicine, to nopurpose, that I am tired of being humbugged: so, if you'll just tellme where I can find this Mr. Johnson, I'll give him a call. I'd liketo know if he's a real flesh-and-blood man. "

"You don't mean to insinuate that I'd forge a testimonial?" repliedthe man of medicine, with some slight show of indignation. 

"Oh, no. I don't insinuate any thing at all, doctor, " answered thepale-looking man. "But I'd like to see this Mr. John Johnson, andhave a little talk with him. "

"You can do that, if you'll take the trouble to call on him, " saidthe doctor, in an off-hand way. 

"Where can I find him?" asked the man. 

"He lives a little way out of town; about three miles on theFredrick turnpike. "

"Ah, so far?"

"Yes. Go out until you come to the three-mile stone; then keep on tothe first road, turning off to the right, along which you will goabout a quarter of a mile, when you will see a brick house. Mr. Johnson lives there. "

The thin, sallow-faced man bowed and retired. As he left the store, the doctor gave a low chuckle, and then said, half aloud--"I guesshe won't try to find this Mr. John Johnson. "

But he was mistaken. Three hours afterwards, the sick man enteredthe shop, and, sinking upon a chair with an expression of weariness, said, in a fretful tone--

"Well, doctor, I've been out where you said, but no Mr. John Johnsonlives there. "

"Mr. Johnson lives at the place to which I directed you, " said thedoctor, positively. 

But the man shook his head. 

"You went out the Fredrick road to the three-mile stone?"

"Yes. "

"And turned off at the first road on the left-hand side?"

"You told me the _right_ hand side!" said the man. 

"Oh, there's the mistake, " replied the doctor, with the air of a manwho had discovered a very material error, by which an importantresult was affected; "I told you to turn off to the _left_. "

"I'm sure you said the right, " persisted the man. 

"Impossible!" returned the doctor, in a most confident tone ofvoice. "How could I have said the right-hand side when I knew it wasthe left? I know Mr. Johnson as well as I know my own brother, andhave been at his house hundreds of times. "

"I am almost sure you said the right!" persisted the man. 

"Oh, no! You misunderstood me, " most positively answered the doctor. 

"Well, I must only try it again, " said the man, languidly; "butshall have to defer the walk until to-morrow, for I'm completelyworn down. "

"You'd better try a bottle of the RESTORER, " said the doctor with abenevolent smile. "I know it will just suit your case. Mr. Johnsonlooked worse than you do, when he commenced taking it, and threebottles made a well man of him. "

And the doctor held up a bottle of the Restorer, with its handsomelabel, temptingly, before the eyes of the sick man, adding, as hedid so--

"It is only fifty cents. "

"I've been humbugged too often!" replied the suspicious patron ofpatent-medicine venders. "No; I'll see Mr. Johnson first. "

"Well, did you see Mr. Johnson?" asked the doctor with a pleasantsmile and confident air, as the testimonial-hunter entered his shopon the next day, about noon. 

"No, I did not, " was replied, a little impatiently. "Ah? How comesthat? Did you follow the directions I gave?"

"Yes, to the very letter. "

"Then you must have found Mr. Johnson. "

"But I tell you, I didn't. "

"It's very strange! I can't understand it. You turned off at thefirst road to the left, after passing the third milestone?"

"I did. "

"Two tall poplars stood at the gate which opened from the turnpike?"

"What gate?"

"The gate opening into the lane leading to Mr. Johnson's house. "

"I didn't turn of at any gate, " said the man. "I kept on, as youdirected, to the first road that led off from the turnpike. Youdidn't mention any thing about a gate. "

"I didn't suppose it necessary, " replied the doctor, with a show ofimpatience. "A road is a road, whether you enter it by a gate or inany other manner. Roads leading to gentlemen's country-seats are notusually left open for every sort of ingress and egress. I don'twonder that you were unable to find Mr. Johnson. "

"I wish you'd give me a more particular direction, " said theinvalid. "I'm nearly dead now with fatigue; I'll try once more tofind this man, and if I don't turn him up, I'll let the matter drop. I don't believe your medicine will do me much good, anyhow. "

"I'm sure it will help you, " replied the doctor. "I can tell fromyour very countenance that it is what you want. Hundreds affected asyou are have been restored to health. Better take a bottle. "

"I want to see this Mr. Johnson first, " persisted the sick man. 

"Get a carriage, then. This walking in the hot sun is too much foryou. "

"Can't afford to ride in carriages. Have spent all my money indoctor-stuffs. Oh, dear! Well! You say this man lives just beyondthe three-mile stone, at the first road leading off to the left?"

"Yes. "

"Two poplars stand at the gate?"

"Yes. "

"I ought to find that, " said the man. 

"You can find it, if you try, " returned the doctor. 

The man started off again. 

"Plague on the persevering fellow!" muttered the man of drugs, assoon as the invalid retired. 

"I wish I'd sent him six miles, instead of three. "

The day wore on, but the testimonial-hunter did not reappear. Earlyon the next morning, however, his pale, thin face and emaciatedbrows were visible in the shop of the quack-doctor. 

"Ah! good morning! good morning!" cried the latter, with one of themost assured smiles in the world. "You found Mr. Johnson, andpleasant of course?"

"Confound you, and Mr. Johnson, too! No!" replied the invalidimpatiently. 

The doctor was a man of great self-control, and, of course, did notin the least become offended. 

"Strange!" said he, seriously. "You surely didn't follow mydirections. "

"I surely did. The first gate on the left-hand side. But your twotall poplars was one tall elm. "

"There it is again!" and the doctor, in the fulness of his surprise, actually let a small package, that he held in his hand, fall uponthe counter. "I told you poplars, distinctly. The elm-tree gate isat least a quarter of a mile this side. But, to settle the matter atonce, " and the doctor, speaking like a man who was about doing adesperate thing, turned to his shelves and took therefrom a bottleof the Universal Restorer--"here's the medicine. I know it willcure you. Take a bottle. It shall cost you nothing. "

The sick man, tempted strongly by the hope of a cure, hesitated fora short time, and then said--

"I don't want your stuff for nothing. But half a dollar won't killme. "

So he drew a coin from his pocket, laid it upon the counter, and, taking the medicine, went slowly away. 

"Rather a hard customer that, " said the doctor to himself, with achuckle, as he slipped the money in his drawer. "But I'll take goodcare to send the next one like him a little farther on his fool'serrand. He'd much better have taken my word for it in thebeginning. "

The sick man never came back for a second bottle of the "Restorer. "Whether the first bottle killed or cured him is, to the chronicler, unknown. 

TRYING TO BE A GENTLEMAN. 

THE efforts which certain young men make, on entering the world, tobecome gentlemen, is not a little amusing to sober, thoughtfullookers on. To "become" is not, perhaps, what is aimed at, so muchas to make people believe that they are gentlemen; for if you shouldhappen to insinuate any thing to the contrary, no matter how widefrom the mark they go, you may expect to receive summary punishmentfor your insolence. 

One of these characters made himself quite conspicuous, inBaltimore, a few years ago. His name was L--, and he hailed fromRichmond, we believe, and built some consequence upon the fact thathe was a son of the Old Dominion. He dressed in the extreme offashion; spent a good deal of time strutting up and down Marketstreet, switching his rattan; boarded at one of the hotels; drankwines freely, and pretended to be quite a judge of their quality;swore round oaths occasionally, and talked of his honour as agentleman. 

His knowledge of etiquette he obtained from books, and was oftenquite as literal in his observance of prescribing modes and forms, as was the Frenchman in showing off his skill in our idioms, when heinformed a company of ladies, as an excuse for leaving them, that hehad "some fish to fry. " That he was no gentleman, internally orexternally, was plain to every one; yet he verily believed himselfto be one of the first water, and it was a matter of constant careto preserve the reputation. 

Among those who were thrown into the society of this L--, was ayoung man, named Briarly, who had rather more basis to hischaracter, and who, although he dressed well, and moved in goodsociety, by no means founded thereon his claim to be called agentleman. He never liked L--, because he saw that he had noprinciple whatever; that all about him was mere sham. Theconsequence was that he was hardly civil to him, a circumstancewhich L--was slow either to notice or resent. 

It happened, one day, that the tailor of Briarly asked him if heknew any thing about L--. 

"Not much, " replied Briarly. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you think him a gentleman?"

"How do you estimate a gentleman?" asked the young man. 

"A gentleman is a man of honour, " returned the tailor. 

"Very well; then L--must be a gentleman, for he has a great dealto say about his honour. "

"I know he has; but I find that those who talk much of their honour, don't, as a general thing, possess much to brag of. "

"Then, he talks to you of his honour?"

"Oh, yes; and gives me his word as a gentleman. "

"Does he always keep his word as a gentleman?"

The tailor shrugged his shoulders. 

"Not always, " he replied. 

"Then I should say that the word of a gentleman isn't worth much, "smilingly remarked Briarly. 

"Not the word of such broadcloth and buckram gentlemen as he is. "

"Take care what you say, or you may find yourself called to accountfor using improper language about this gentleman. We may have a duelon the carpet. "

"It would degrade him to fight with a tailor, " replied the man ofshears. "So I may speak my mind with impunity. But if he shouldchallenge me, I will refuse to fight him, on the ground that he isno gentleman. "

"Indeed! How will you prove that?"

"Every man must be permitted to have his own standard of gentility. "

"Certainly. "

"I have mine. "

"Ah! Well, how do you measure gentility?"

"By my ledger. A man who doesn't pay his tailor's bill, I considerno gentleman. If L--sends me a challenge, I will refuse to fighthim on that ground. "

"Good!" said Briarly, laughing. "I'm afraid, if your standard wereadopted, that a great many, who now pass themselves off forgentlemen, would be held in little estimation. "

"It is the true standard, nevertheless, " replied Shears. "A man maytry to be a gentleman as much as he pleases, but if he don't try topay his tailor's bill at the same time, he tries in vain. "

"You may be right enough, " remarked Briarly, a good deal amused atthe tailor's mode of estimating a gentleman, and possessed of a newfact in regard to L--'s claim to the honourable distinction ofwhich he so often boasted. 

Shortly after this, it happened that L--made Briarly angry aboutsomething, when the latter very unceremoniously took hold of thehandle on the young man's face, and moved his head around. 

Fortunately, the body moved with the head, or the consequences mighthave been serious. There were plenty to assure L--that for thisinsult he must, if he wished to be considered a gentleman, challengeBriarly, and shoot him--if he could. Several days elapsed beforeL--'s courage rose high enough to enable him to send the deadlymissive by the hand of a friend. 

Meantime, a wag of a fellow, an intimate friend of Briarly's, appeared in Market street in an old rusty coat, worn hat, andwell-mended but clean and whole trowsers and vest. Friend afterfriend stopped him, and, in astonishment, inquired the cause of thischange. He had but one answer, in substance. But we will give hisown account of the matter, as related to three or four young bucksin an oyster-house, where they happened to meet him. L--was of thenumber. 

"A patch on your elbow, Tom, as I live!" said one; "and here'sanother on your vest. Why, old fellow, this is premeditatedpoverty. "

"Better wear patched garments than owe for new ones, " replied Tom, with great sobriety. 

"Bless us! when did you turn economist?"

"Ever since I tried to be a gentleman. "

"What?"

"Ever since I tried to be a gentleman. I may strut up and downMarket street in fine clothes, switch my rattan about, talk nonsenseto silly ladies, swear, and drink wine; but if I don't pay mytailor, I'm no gentleman. "

"Nonsense, " was replied. There was a general laugh, but few of Tom'sauditors felt very much flattered by his words. 

"No nonsense at all, " he said. "We may put on airs of gentility, boast of independence and spirit, and all that; but it's a mean kindof gentility that will let a man flourish about in a fine coat forwhich he owes his tailor. Wyville has a large bill against me forclothes, Grafton another for boots, and Cox another for hats. I amtrying to pay these off--trying to become a gentleman. "

"Then you don't consider yourself a gentleman now?" said one. 

"Oh, no. I'm only trying to become a gentleman, " meekly replied Tom, though a close observer could see a slight twitching in the cornerof his mouth, and a slight twinkle in the corner of his eye. "Myhonour is in pawn, and will remain so until I pay these bills. ThenI shall feel like holding up my head again, and looking gentlemen inthe face. "

The oddness of this conceit, and the boldness with which it wascarried out, attracted attention, and made a good deal of talk atthe time. A great many tailors' bills were paid instanter that wouldnot have been paid for months, perhaps not at all. In a few days, however, Tom appeared abroad again, quite as handsomely dressed asbefore, alleging that his uncle had taken compassion on him, and, out of admiration for his honest principles, paid off his bills andmade a gentleman of him once more. 

No one, of course believed Tom to be sincere in all this. It waslooked upon as one of his waggish tricks, intended to hit off someone, or perhaps the whole class of fine tailor-made gentlemen whoforget their benefactors. 

While Tom was metamorphosed as stated, Briarly was waited upon oneday, by a young man, who presented him with a challenge to mortalcombat from the insulted L--, and desired him to name his friend. 

"I cannot accept the challenge, " said Briarly, promptly. 

"Why not?" asked the second of L--, in surprise. 

"Because your principal is no gentleman. "

"What!"

"Is no gentleman, " coolly returned Briarly. 

"Explain yourself, sir, if you please. "

"He doesn't pay his tailor, he doesn't pay his boot-maker, hedoesn't pay his hatter--he is, therefore, no gentleman, and I cannotfight him. "

"You will be posted as a coward, " said the second, fiercely. 

"In return for which I will post him as no gentleman, and give theevidence, " replied Briarly. 

"I will take his place. You will hear from me shortly, " said thesecond, turning away. 

"Be sure you don't owe your tailor any thing, for if you do, I willnot stoop to accept your challenge, " returned Briarly. "I willconsider it _primâ facie_ evidence that you are no gentleman. I know Patterson very well, and will, in the mean time, informmyself on the subject. "

All this was said with the utmost gravity, and with a decision oftone and manner that left no doubt of the intention. 

The second withdrew. An hour elapsed, but no new challenge came. Days went by, but no "posters" drew crowds at the corners. Gradually, the matter got wind, to the infinite amusement of such ashappened to know L--, who was fairly driven from a city where itwas no use trying to be a gentleman without paying his tailor'sbill. 

TAKING A PRESCRIPTION. 

SUMMER before last, the time when cholera had poisoned the air, agentleman of wealth, standing and intelligence, from one of theSouthern or Middle States, while temporarily sojourning in Boston, felt certain "premonitory symptoms, " that were rather alarming, allthings considered. So he inquired of the hotel-keeper where he couldfind a good physician. 

"One of your best, " said he, with an emphasis in his tones thatshowed how important was the matter in his eyes. 

"Doctor--stands at the head of his profession in our city, "returned the hotel-keeper. "You may safely trust yourself in hishands. "

"Thank you. I will call upon him immediately, " said the gentleman, and away he went. 

The doctor, fortunately, as the gentleman mentally acknowledged, wasin his office. The latter, after introducing himself, stated hiscase with some concern of manner; when the doctor felt his pulse, looked at his tongue, and made sundry professional inquiries. 

"Your system is slightly disturbed, " remarked the doctor, afterfully ascertaining the condition of his patient, "but I'll give youa prescription that will bring all right again in less thantwenty-four hours. "

And so he took out his pencil and wrote a brief prescription. 

"How much am I indebted, doctor?" inquired the gentleman, as heslipped the little piece of paper into his vest pocket. 

"Five dollars for the consultation and prescription, " replied thedoctor, bowing. 

"Cheap enough, if I am saved from an attack of cholera, " said thepatient as he drew forth his pocket-book and abstracted from itsfolds the required fee. He then returned to the hotel, and, going toone of the clerks, or bar-keeper, in the office, said to him--

"I wish you would send out and get me this prescription. "

"Prescription! Why, Mr. --, are you sick?" returned the bar-keeper. 

"I'm not very well, " was answered. 

"What's the matter?"

"Symptoms of the prevailing epidemic. "

"Oh! Ah! And you've been to see a doctor?"

"Yes. "

"Who?"

"Doctor--"

The bar-keeper shrugged his shoulders, as he replied--

"Good physician. None better. That all acknowledge. But, if you'lllet me prescribe for you, I'll put you all straight in double-quicktime. "

"Well, what will you prescribe, Andy?" said the gentleman. 

"I'll prescribe this. " And, as he spoke, he drew from under thecounter a bottle labelled--"Mrs. --'s Cordial. "

"Take a glass of that, and you can throw your doctor's prescriptioninto the fire. "

"You speak confidently, Andy?"

"I do, for I know its virtue. "

The gentleman, who had in his hand a prescription for which he hadpaid five dollars to one of the most skilful and judiciousphysicians in New England, strange as it may seem, listened to thisbar-keeper, and in the end actually destroyed the prescription, andpoured down his throat a glass of "Mrs. --'s Cordial. "

It is no matter of surprise that, ere ten o'clock in the evening, the gentleman's premonitory symptoms, which had experienced atemporary abatement, assumed a more alarming character. And now, instead of going to, he was obliged to send for, a physician. Doctor--, whom he had consulted, was called in, and immediatelyrecognised his patient of the morning. 

"I'm sorry to find you worse, " said he. "I did not in the leastdoubt the efficacy of the remedy I gave you. But, have you taken theprescription. "

"Wh--wh--why no, doctor, " stammered the half-ashamed patient. "Iconfess that I did not. I took something else. "

"Something else! What was it?"

"I thought a glass of Mrs. --'s cordial would answer just as well. "

"You did! and, pray, who prescribed this for you?" said the doctor, moving his chair instinctively from his patient and speaking in arather excited tone of voice. 

"No one prescribed it. I took it on the recommendation of thebar-keeper down-stairs, who said that he knew it would cure me. "

"And you had my prescription in your pocket at the same time! Theprescription of a regular physician, of twenty-five years' practice, set aside for a quack nostrum, recommended by a bar-keeper! A finecompliment to common sense and the profession, truly! My friend, ifI must speak out plainly, you deserve to die--and I shouldn't muchwonder if you got your deserts! Good evening!"

Saying this, the doctor arose, and was moving towards the door, whenthe frightened patient called to him in such appealing tones, thathe was constrained to pause. A humble confession of error, andrepeated apologies, softened the physician's suddenly awakenedanger, and he came back and resumed his seat. 

"My friend, " said he, on recovering his self-possession, which hadbeen considerably disturbed, "Do you know the composition ofMrs. --'s cordial, which you took with so much confidence?"

"I do not!" replied the gentleman. 

"Humph! Well, I can tell you. About nine-tenths of it is cheapbrandy, or New-England rum, which completely destroys or neutralizesthe salutary medicaments that form the tithe thereof. I don't wonderthat this stuff has aggravated all your symptoms. I would, if inyour state of health, about as leave take poison. "

"Pray, don't talk to me in that way, doctor, " said the patient, imploringly. "I am sick, and what you say can only have the effectto make me worse. I am already sufficiently punished for my folly. Prescribe for me once more, and be assured that I will not againplay the fool. "

Doctor--'s professional indignation had pretty well burned itselfout by this time; so he took up the case again, and once more gave aprescription. In a couple of days, the gentleman was quite wellagain; but that Mrs. --'s cordial cost him twenty dollars. 

He is now a little wiser than he was before; and is very careful asto whose prescriptions he takes. It would be better for the healthof the entire community if every individual would be as careful inthe same matter as he is now. Those who are sick should, ere takingmedicine, consult a physician of experience and skill; but, aboveall things, they should shun advertised nostrums, in the sale ofwhich the manufacturers and vendors are interested. Oftentestimonials as to their efficacy are mere forgeries. Health is toovital a thing to be risked in this way. 

THE YANKEE AND THE DUTCHMAN;

OR, I'LL GIVE OR TAKE. 

A SHREWD Yankee, with about five hundred dollars in his pocket, camealong down South, a few years ago, seeking for some betterinvestment of his money than offered in the land of steady habits, where he found people, as a general thing, quite as wide awake ashimself. 

In Philadelphia, our adventurer did not stay long; but something inthe air of Baltimore pleased him, and he lingered about there forseveral weeks, prying into every thing and getting acquainted witheverybody that was accessible. Among others for whom the Yankeeseemed to take a liking, was a Dutchman, who was engaged inmanufacturing an article for which there was a very good demand, andon which there was a tempting profit. He used to drop in almostevery day and have a talk with the Dutchman, who seemed like a good, easy kind of a man, and just the game for the Yankee, if he shouldthink it worth the candle. 

"Why don't you enlarge your business?" asked Jonathan, one day. "Youcan sell five times what you make. "

"I knows dat, " returned the Dutchman, "but I wants de monish. Wait awhile, den I enlarsh. "

"Then you are laying by something?"

"Leetle mite. "

In two or three days, Jonathan came round again. He had thought thematter all over, and was prepared to invest his five hundred dollarsin the Dutchman's business, provided the latter had no objections. 

"It's a pity to creep along in the way you are going, " he said, "when so much money might be made in your business by the investmentof more capital. Can't you borrow a few hundred dollars?"

"Me borrow? Oh, no; nobody lend me few hunnard dollar. I go on, saveup; bimeby I enlarsh. "

"But somebody else, with plenty of money, might go into the businessand fill the market; then it would be no use to enlarge. "

"Sorry, but can't help it. No monish, no enlarsh. "

"I've got five hundred dollars. "

The phlegmatic Dutchman brightened up. 

"Fife hunnard dollar?"

"Yes. "

"Much monish. Do great business on fife hunnard dollar. "

"That you could. "

"You lend me de monish?" asked the Dutchman. 

Jonathan shook his head. 

"Can't do that. I'm going into business myself. "

"Ah! what business?"

"Don't know yet; haven't decided. Into your business, maybe. "

"My business!" The Dutchman looked surprised. 

"Yes; it appears to me like a very good business. Don't you think Icould start very fair on five hundred dollars?"

The Dutchman hesitated to answer that question; he didn't want tosay yes, and he was conscious that the Yankee knew too much of hisaffairs to believe him if he said no. He, therefore, merely shruggedhis shoulders, looked stupid, and remained silent. 

"You don't know of a large room that I could get anywhere, do you?"

The Dutchman shook his head, and gave a decided negative. 

Jonathan said no more on that occasion. Two days afterwards, hedropped in again. "Have you fount a room yet?" asked the Dutchman. 

"I've seen two or three, " replied Jonathan. "One of them will suitme, I guess. But I'll tell you what I've been thinking about since Isaw you. If I open another establishment, the business will bedivided. Now, it has struck me, that, perhaps, it might be better, all round, for me to put my five hundred dollars into your businessas a partner, and push the whole thing with might and main. How doesit strike you?"

"Vell, I can't say shust now; I'll dink of him. You put in fifehunnard dollar, you say?"

"Yes; five hundred down, in hard cash--every dollar in gold. "

"Fife hunnard. Let us see. " And the Dutchman raised his chin anddropped his eyes, and stood for some minutes in a deep study. 

"Fife hunnard, " he repeated several times. 

"Come to-morrow, " he at length said. "Den I tell you. "

"Very well. I'll drop in to-morrow, " replied the Yankee. "I'm notvery anxious about it, you see; but, as the thing occurred to me, Ithought I would mention it. Five hundred dollars will make a greatdifference in your business. "

On the next day, Jonathan appeared, looking quite indifferent aboutthe matter. The Dutchman had turned over the proposition, anddreamed about it, both sleeping and waking. His final decision wasto take in the Yankee as a partner. 

Now, a cool, thoughtful Dutchman, and a quick-witted Yankee, are nota very bad match for each other, provided the former sees reason tohave his wits about him, which was the case in the present instance. The Dutchman meant all fair; he had no thought of taking anyadvantage: but he had suspicion enough of Jonathan to put him on hisguard, and look to see that no high-handed game was played off uponhim. 

"You put in fife hunnard dollar?" he said, when the Yankee appeared. 

"Yes. "

"Hard cash?"

"Yes, in gold. "

"Gold!"

"All in half-eagles like these. " And he drew a handful of gold coinsfrom his pocket. 

"Very well; I dake you. You put in fife hunnard dollar, I put in allI got here; den we joint owner. "

"Equal partners?"

"Yes. "

"That is, I own half and you half. "

"Yes. "

"And we divide, equally, the profits?"

"Yes. "

"Very well; that'll do, I guess. We'll have writings drawn to thiseffect--articles of co-partnership, you know. "

"Oh, yes. "

This settled, nothing remained but to have the articles drawn, themoney paid in, and the agreement signed and witnessed; all of whichwas done in the course of a few weeks. Then Jonathan went into thebusiness, and infused some Yankee spirit: into every part of it; hemade things move ahead fast. In less than a year, the business wasmuch more than doubled, and the profits in proportion; thut Jonathanwas not satisfied with his half of these--he wanted the whole; and, hedge-hog-like, he did all he could, by merely bristling up, to makethings unpleasant for his partner. But the Dutchman was by no meansthin-skinned; the sharp spikes of the Yankee's character annoyed himbut little. As for himself, he felt very well satisfied with hisshare of the profits, and willing to go on as they were going. 

At the end of the second year, when the establishment had grown intoquite an important and profitable concern, the Yankee had a visitfrom an Eastern friend, a man of some capital. 

"That's a stupid-looking fellow, that partner of yours, " said thisperson. 

"And he is as stupid as a mule. I have to carry him on my back, andthe business, too. "

"Why don't you get rid of him?"

"I've been wanting to do so for some time, but haven't seen my wayclear yet. "

"Does your partnership expire at any time, by limitation?"

"No. It can only be dissolved by mutual consent. "

"Won't he sell out his interest?"

"I don't know; but I've always intended to make him an offer to giveor take, as soon as I could see my way clear to do it. "

"Don't you see your way clear now?"

"No. When such an offer is made, it must be of a sum that it isimpossible for him to raise; otherwise, he might agree to give theamount proposed, and I don't want that. I wish to stick to thebusiness, for it's going to be a fortune. At present, I am not ableto raise what I think should be offered. "

"How much is that?"

"About three thousand dollars. I only put in five hundred, two yearsago. You can see how the business has increased. The half is worthfive thousand in reality, and I would give, rather than take thatsum. "

"You think your partner can't raise three thousand dollars?"

"Oh, no; he's got no friends, and he hasn't three hundred out of thebusiness. "

"How long would you want the sum mentioned?"

"A year or eighteen months. "

"I reckon I can supply it, " said the friend. "It's a pity for you tobe tied to this old Dutchman, when you can conduct the business justas well yourself. "

"A great deal better; he is only in my way. "

"Very well. You make him the offer to give or take three thousanddollars, and I will supply the money. But you ought, by all means, to add a stipulation, that whoever goes out shall sign a writtenagreement not to go into the same business for at least ten years tocome. If you don't do this, he can take his three thousand dollarsand start another establishment upon as large a scale as the one youhave, and seriously affect your operations. "

"Such a stipulation must be signed, of course, " remarked Jonathan. "I've always had that in my mind; let me once get this business intomy hands, and I'll make it pay better than it ever has yet. Beforeten years roll over my head, if I a'n't worth forty or fiftythousand dollars, then I don't know any thing. "

"You think it will pay like that?"

"Yes, I know it. I haven't put out half my strength yet, for Ididn't want to let this Dutchman see what could be made of thebusiness. He'll catch at three thousand dollars like a trout at afly; it's more money than he ever saw in his life. "

On the next day, Jonathan told his partner that he wanted to havesome talk with him; so they retired into their little privateoffice, to be alone. 

"Vat you want?" said the Dutchman, when they were by themselves; forhe saw that his partner had something on his mind of graver importthan usual. 

"I'm tired of a co-partnership business, " said the Yankee, comingstraight to the main point. 

"Vell?" And the Dutchman looked at him without betraying the leastsurprise. 

"Either of us could conduct this business as well as both together. "

"Vell?"

"Now, I propose to buy you out or sell you my interest, as youplease. "

"Vell?"

"What will you give me for my half of the business, and let me go atsomething else?" The Dutchman shook his head. 

"At a word, then, to make the matter as simple as possible, and asfair as possible, I'll tell you what I'll give or take. "

"Vell?"

"Of course, it would not be fair for the one who goes out tocommence the same business. I would not do it. There should be awritten agreement to this effect. "

"Yes. Vell, vat vill you give or dake?"

"I'll give or take three thousand dollars; I don't care which. "

"Dree dousand dollar! You give dat?"

"Yes. "

"Or take dat?"

"Either. "

"You pay down de monish?"

"Cash down. "

"Humph! Dree dousand dollar! Me tink about him. "

"How long do you want to think?"

"Undil de mornin. "

"Very well; we'll settle the matter to-morrow morning. "

In the morning, Jonathan's friend came with three thousand dollars, in order to pay the Dutchman right down, and have the whole businessconcluded while the matter was warm. 

Meantime, the Dutchman, who was not quite so friendless nor sostupid as the Yankee supposed, turned the matter over in his mindvery coolly. He understood Jonathan's drift as clearly as heunderstood it himself, and was fully as well satisfied as he was inregard to the future value of the business which he had founded. Twoof their largest customers were Germans, and to them he went andmade a full statement of his position, and gave them evidence thatentirely satisfied them as to the business. Without hesitation, theyagreed to advance him the money he wanted, and to enable him tostrike while the iron was hot, checked him out the money on the nextmorning. One of them accompanied him to his manufactory, to be awitness in the transaction. 

Jonathan and his friend were first on the spot. 

In about ten minutes, the Dutchman and his friend arrived. 

"Well, have you made up your mind yet?" asked the Yankee. 

"De one who goes out ish not to begin de same business?"

"No, certainly not; it wouldn't be fair. "

"No, I 'spose not. "

"Suppose we draw up a paper, and sign it to that effect, before wego any farther. "

"Vell. "

The paper was drawn, signed, and witnessed by the friends of bothparties. 

"You are prepared to give or take?" said Jonathan, with sameeagerness in his manner. 

"Yes. "

"Well, which will you do?"

"I vill give, " coolly replied the Dutchman. 

"Give!" echoed the Yankee, taken entirely by surprise at sounexpected a reply. "Give! You mean, take. "

"I no means dake, I means give. Here ish de monish;" and he drewforth a large roll of bank-bills. "You say give or dake--I saygive. "

With the best face it was possible to put upon the matter, Jonathan, who could not back out, took the three thousand dollars, and, forthat sum, signed away, on the spot, all right, title, and claim tobenefit in the business, from that day henceforth and for ever. 

With his three thousand dollars in his pocket, the Yankee startedoff farther South, vowing that, if he lived to be as old asMethuselah, he'd never have any thing to do with a Dutchman again. 

A TIPSY PARSON. 

IN a village not a hundred miles from Philadelphia, resided the Rev. Mr. Manlius, who had the pastoral charge of a very respectablecongregation, and was highly esteemed by them; but there was onething in which he did not give general satisfaction, and inconsequence of which many excellent members of his church feltseriously scandalized. He would neither join a temperance society, nor omit his glass of wine when he felt inclined to take it. It isonly fair to say, however, that such spirituous indulgences were notof frequent occurrence. It was more the principle of the thing, ashe said, that he stood upon, than any thing else, that prevented hissigning a temperance pledge. 

Sundry were the attacks, both open and secret, to which the ReverendMr. Manlius was subjected, and many were the discussions into whichhe was drawn by the advocates of total abstinence. His mode ofargument was very summary. 

"I would no more sign a pledge not to drink brandy than I would signa pledge not to steal, " was the position he took. "I wish to be freeto choose good or evil, and to act right because it is wrong to dootherwise. I do not find fault with others for signing a pledge, norfor abstaining from wine. If they think it right, it is right forthem. But as for myself, I would cut off my right hand before Iwould bind myself by mere external restraint. My bonds are internalprinciples. I am temperate because intemperance is sin. For men whohave abused their freedom, and so far lost all rational control overthemselves that they cannot resist the insane spirit ofintemperance, the pledge is all important. Sign it, I say, in thename of Heaven; but do not sign it because this, that, or the othertemperate man has signed it, but because you feel it to be your onlyhope. Do it for yourself, and do it if you are the only man in theworld who acts thus. To sign because another man, whom you thinkmore respectable, has signed, will give you little or no strength. You must do it for yourself, and because it is right. "

The parson was pretty ready with the tongue, and rarely came offsecond best when his opponents dragged him into a controversy, although his arguments were called by them, when he was not present, "mere fustian. "

"His love for wine and brandy is at the bottom of all this hostilityto the temperance cause, " was boldly said of him by individuals inand out of his church. But especially were the members of otherchurches severe upon him. 

"He'll turn out a drunkard, " said one. 

"I shouldn't be surprised to see him staggering in the streetsbefore two years, " said another. 

"He does more harm to the temperance cause than ten drunkards, "alleged a third. 

While others said--"Isn't it scandalous!"

"He's a disgrace to his profession!"

"_He_ pretend to have religion!"

"A minister indeed!"

And so the changes rang. 

All this time, Mr. Manlius firmly maintained his ground, taking hisglass of wine whenever it suited him. At last, after the occurrenceof a dinner-party given by a family of some note in the place, andat which the minister was present, and at which wine was circulatedfreely, a rather scandalous report got abroad, and soon went buzzingall over the village. A young man, who made no secret of being fondof his glass, and who was at the dinner-party, met, on the dayafter, a very warm advocate of temperance, and a member of adifferent denomination from that in which Mr. Manlius was aminister, and said to him, with mock gravity--"We had a _rara avis_at our dinner-party yesterday, Perkins. "

"Indeed. What wonderful thing was that?"

"A tipsy parson. "

"A what?"

The man's eyes became instantly almost as big as saucers. 

"A tipsy parson. "

"Who? Mr. Manlius?" was eagerly inquired. 

"I didn't say so. I call no names. "

"He was present, I know; and drank wine, I am told, like a fish. "

"I wasn't aware before that fishes drank wine, " said the mangravely. 

"It was Manlius, wasn't it?" urged the other. 

"I call no names, " was repeated. "All I said was, that we had atipsy parson--and so we had. I'll prove it before a jury of athousand, if necessary. "

"It's no more than I expected, " said the temperance man. "He's amere winebibber at best. He pretend to preach the gospel! I wonderhe isn't struck dead in the pulpit. "

The moment his informant had left him, Perkins started forth tocommunicate the astounding intelligence that Mr. Manlius had beendrunk on the day before, at Mr. Reeside's dinner-party. From lip tolip the scandal flew, with little less than electric quickness. Itwas all over the village by the next day. Some doubted, some denied, but the majority believed the story--it was so likely to be true. 

This occurred near the close of the week, and Sunday arrived beforethe powers that be in the church were able to confer upon thesubject, and cite the minister to appear and answer for himself onthe scandalous charge of drunkenness. There was an unusual number ofvacant pews during service, both morning and afternoon. 

Monday came, and, early in the day, a committee of two deaconswaited upon Mr. Manlius, and informed him of the report incirculation, and of their wish that he would appear before them onthe next afternoon, to give an account of himself, as the churchdeemed the matter far too serious to be passed lightly over. Theminister was evidently a good deal surprised and startled at this, but he neither denied the charge nor attempted any palliation, merely saying that he would attend, of course. 

"It's plain that he's guilty, " said Deacon Jones to Deacon Todd, asthey walked with sober faces away from the minister's dwelling. 

"Plain? Yes--it's written in his face, " returned Deacon Todd. "Somuch for opposing temperance reforms and drinking wine. It's ajudgment upon him. "

"But what a scandal to our church!" said Deacon Jones. 

"Yes--think of that. He must be suspended, and not restored until hesigns the pledge. "

"I don't believe he'll ever do that. "

"Why not?"

"He says he would cut off his right hand first. "

"People are very fond of cutting off their right hand, you know. Myword for it, this will do the business for him. He will be gladenough to get the matter hushed up so easily. I shall go forsuspending him until he signs the pledge. "

"I don't know but that I will go with you. If he signs the pledge, he's safe. "

And so the two deacons settled the matter. 

On the next day, in grave council assembled were all the deacons ofthe church, besides sundry individuals who had come as theminister's friends or accusers. Perkins, who had put the report incirculation, was there, at the special request of one of thedeacons, who had ascertained that he had as much, or a little moreto say, in the matter, than any one. 

Perkins was called upon, rather unexpectedly, to answer one or twoquestions, immediately on the opening of the meeting, but as he wasa stanch temperance man, and cordially despised the minister, he wasbold to reply. 

"Mr. Perkins, " said the presiding deacon, "as far as we can learn, this scandalous charge originated with you: I will, therefore, askyou--did you say that the Rev. Mr. Manlius was drunk at Mr. Reeside's dinner-party?"

"I did, " was the unhesitating answer. 

"Were you present at Mr. Reeside's?"

"No, sir. "

"Did you see Mr. Manlius coming from the house intoxicated?"

"No. "

"What evidence, then, have you of the truth of your charge? We haveconversed this morning with several who were present, and all saythat they observed nothing out of the way in Mr. Manlius, on theoccasion of which you speak. This is a serious matter, and we shouldlike to have your authority for a statement so injurious to thereputation of the minister and the cause of religion. "

"My authority is Mr. Burton, who was present. "

"Did he tell you that Mr. Manlius was intoxicated?"

"He said there was a drunken minister there, and Mr. Manlius, I haveascertained, was the only clergyman present. "

"Was that so?" asked the deacon of an individual who was at Mr. Reeside's. 

"Mr. Manlius was the only clergyman there, " was replied. 

"Then, " said Perkins, "if there was a drunken minister there, itmust have been Mr. Manlius. I can draw no other inference. "

"Can Mr. Burton be found?" was now asked. 

An individual immediately volunteered to go in search of him. Inhalf an hour he was produced. As he entered the grave assembly, helooked around with great composure upon the array of solemn facesand eyes intently fixed upon him. He did not appear in the leastabashed. 

"You were at Mr. Reeside's last week, at a dinner-party, I believe?"said the presiding deacon. 

"I was. "

"Did you see Mr. Manlius intoxicated on that occasion?"

"Mr. Manlius! Good heavens! no! I can testify, upon oath, that hewas as solemn as a judge. Who says that I made so scandalous anallegation?"

Burton appeared to grow strongly excited. 

"I say so, " cried Perkins in a loud voice. 

"You say so? And, pray, upon what authority?"

"Upon the authority of your own words. "

"Never!"

"But you did tell me so. "

Perkins was much excited. 

"When?"

"On the day after the dinner-party. Don't you remember what you saidto me?"

"Oh, yes--perfectly. "

"That you had a drunken minister at dinner?"

"No, I never said that. "

"But you did, I can be qualified to it. "

"I said we had a 'tipsy parson. '"

"And, pray, what is the difference?"

At the words "tipsy parson, " the minister burst into a loud laugh, and so did two or three others who had been at Mr. Reeside's. Thegrave deacon in the chair looked around with frowning wonder at suchindecorum, and felt that especially ill-timed was the levity of theminister. 

"I do not understand this, " he said, with great gravity. 

"I can explain it, " remarked an individual, rising, "as I happenedto be at Mr. Reeside's, and know all about the 'tipsy parson. ' Thecook of our kind hostess, in her culinary ingenuity, furnished adessert, which she called 'tipsy parson, '--made, I believe, bysoaking sponge-cake in brandy and pouring a custard over it. It istherefore true, as our friend Burton has said, that there was a'tipsy parson' at the table; but as to the drunken minister of Mr. Perkins, I know nothing. "

Never before, in a grave and solemn assembly of deacons, was theresuch a sudden and universal burst of laughter, such a holding ofsides and vibration of bodies, as followed this unexpected speech. In the midst of the confusion and noise, Perkins quietly retired. Hehas been known, ever since, in the village, much to his chagrin andscandalization, he being still a warm temperance man, as the "tipsyparson. "

"There goes the 'tipsy parson'" he hears said, as he passes alongthe street, a dozen times in a week, and he is now seriouslyinclined to leave the village, in order to escape the ridicule hisover-zealous effort to blast the minister's reputation has calledinto existence. As for the Rev. Mr. Manlius, he often tells thestory, and laughs over it as heartily as any one. 

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING;

OR, THE REASON WHY MRS. TODD DIDN'T SPEAK TO MRS. JONES. 

"DID you see that?" said Mrs. Jones to her friend Mrs. Lion, withwhom she was walking. 

"See what?"

"Why, that Mrs. Todd didn't speak to me. "

"No. I thought she spoke to you as well as to me. "

"Indeed, then, and she didn't. "

"Are you sure?"

"Sure? Can't I believe my own eyes? She nodded and spoke to you, butshe didn't as much as look at me. "

"What in the world can be the reason, Mrs. Jones?"

"Dear knows!"

"You certainly must be mistaken. Mrs. Todd would not refuse to speakto one of her old friends in the street. "

"Humph! I don't know; she's rather queer, sometimes. She's taken amiff at something, I suppose, and means to cut my acquaintance. Butlet her. I shall not distress myself about it; she isn't all theworld. "

"Have you done any thing likely to offend her?" asked Mrs. Lyon. 

"Me?" returned her companion. "No, not that I am aware of; butcertain people are always on the lookout for something or otherwrong, and Mrs. Todd is just one of that kind. "

"I never thought so, Mrs. Jones. "

"She is, then. I know her very well. "

"I'm sorry, " said Mrs. Lyon, evincing a good deal of concern. "Hadn't you better go to her in a plain, straight-forward way, andask the reason of her conduct? This would make all clear in amoment. "

"Go to her, Mrs. Lyon, " exclaimed Mrs. Jones, with ill-concealedindignation. "No, indeed, that I will not. Do you think I woulddemean myself so much?"

"I am not sure that by so doing you would demean yourself, as yousay. There is, clearly, some mistake, and such a course wouldcorrect all false impressions. But it was only a suggestion, thrownout for your consideration. "

"Oh, no, Mrs. Lyon, " replied Mrs. Jones, with warmth. "You neverfind me cringing to people, and begging to know why they are pleasedto cut my acquaintance. I feel quite as good as anybody, andconsider myself of just as much consequence as the proudest andbest. Mrs. Todd needn't think I care for her acquaintance; I nevervalued it a pin. "

Notwithstanding Mrs. Jones's perfect indifference toward Mrs. Todd, she continued to talk about her, pretty much after this fashion, growing more excited all the while, during the next half hour, atthe close of which time the ladies parted company. 

When Mrs. Jones met her husband at the dinner-table, she relatedwhat had happened during the morning. Mr. Jones was disposed totreat the matter lightly, but his wife soon satisfied him that thething was no joke. 

"What can be Mrs. Todd's reason for such conduct?" he asked, with aserious air. "I can't tell, for my life. "

"She must have heard some false report about you. "

"It's as likely as not; but what can it be?"

"Something serious, to cause her to take so decided a stand as sheseems to have done. "

Mr. Jones looked grave, and spoke in a grave tone of voice. Thismade matters worse. Mrs. Jones's first idea was that Mrs. Todd hadheard something that she might have said about her, and that woundedpride had caused her to do as she had done; but her husband's remarksuggested other thoughts. It was possible that reports were incirculation calculated to injure her social standing, and that Mrs. Todd's conduct toward her was not the result of any private pique. 

"It is certainly strange and unaccountable, " she said, in reply toher husband's last remark, speaking in a thoughtful tone. 

"Would it not be the fairest and best way for you to go and ask foran explanation?"

"No, I can't do that, " replied Mrs. Jones, quickly. "I am willing tobear undeserved contempt and unjust censure, but I will never humblemyself to any one. "

For the rest of the day, Mrs. Jones's thoughts all flowed in onechannel. A hundred reasons for Mrs. Todd's strange conduct wereimagined, but none seemed long satisfactory. At last, she rememberedhaving spoken pretty freely about the lady to a certain individualwho was not remarkable for his discretion. 

"That's it, " she said, rising from her chair, and walking nervouslyacross the floor of her chamber, backward and forward, for two orthree times, while a burning glow suffused her cheek. "Isn't it toobad that words spoken in confidence should have been repeated! Idon't wonder she is offended. "

This idea was retained for a time, and then abandoned for some otherthat seemed more plausible. For the next two weeks, Mrs. Jones wasvery unhappy. She did not meet Mrs. Todd during that period, but shesaw a number of her friends, to whom either she or Mrs. Lyon hadcommunicated the fact already stated. All declared the conduct ofMrs. Todd to be unaccountable; but several, among themselves, hadshrewd suspicions of the real cause. Conversations on the subject, like the following, were held:--

"I can tell you what I think about it, Mrs. S--. You know, Mrs. Jones is pretty free with her tongue?"

"Yes. "

"You've heard her talk about Mrs. Todd?"

"I don't remember, now. "

"I have, often; she doesn't spare her, sometimes. You know, yourself, that Mrs. Todd has queer ways of her own. "

"She is not perfect, certainly. "

"Not by a great deal; and Mrs. Jones has not hesitated to say so. There is not the least doubt in my mind, that Mrs. Todd has heardsomething. "

"Perhaps so; but she is very foolish to take any notice of it. "

"So I think; but you know she is touchy. "

In some instances, the conversation assumed a grave form:--

"Do you know what has struck me, in this matter of Mrs. Jones andMrs. Todd?" says one scandal-loving personage to another, whosetaste ran parallel with her own. 

"No. What is it?" eagerly asks the auditor. 

"I will tell you; but you mustn't speak of it, for your life. "

"Never fear me. "

The communication was made in a deep whisper. 

"Bless me!" exclaims the recipient of the secret. "It surely cannotbe so!"

"There is not the least doubt of it. I had it from a source thatcannot be doubted. "

"How in the world did you hear it?"

"In a way not dreamed of by Mrs. Jones. "

"No doubt, Mrs. Todd has heard the same. "

"Not the least in the world. But don't you think her to blame inrefusing to keep Mrs. Jones's company, or even to speak to her?"

"Certainly I do. It happened a long time ago, and no doubt poor Mrs. Jones has suffered enough on account of it. Indeed, I don't think_she_ ought to be blamed in the matter at all; it was hermisfortune, not her fault. "

"So I think. In fact, I believe she is just as worthy of respect andkindness as Mrs. Todd. "

"No doubt of it in the world; and from me she shall always receiveit. "

"And from me also. "

In this way the circle spread, so that before two weeks had elapsed, there were no less than twenty different notions held about Mrs. Todd's behaviour to Mrs. Jones. Some talked very seriously aboutcutting the acquaintance of Mrs. Jones also, while others took herside and threatened to give up the acquaintance of Mrs. Todd. 

Thus matters stood, when a mutual friend, who wished to do honour tosome visitors from a neighbouring city, sent out invitations for aparty. Before these invitations were despatched, it was seriouslydebated whether it would do to invite both Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Todd, considering how matters stood between them. The decision was infavour of letting them take care of their own difficulties. 

"If I thought Mrs. Todd would be there, I am sure I wouldn't go, "said Mrs. Jones, on receiving her card of invitation. 

"I hardly think that would be acting wisely, " replied her husband. "You are not conscious of having wronged Mrs. Todd. Why, then, should you shun her?"

"But it is so unpleasant to meet a person with whom you have beenlong intimate, who refuses to speak to you. "

"No doubt it is. Still we ought not to go out of our way to shunthat person. Let us, while we do not attempt to interfere with theliberties of others, be free ourselves. Were I in your place, Iwould not move an inch to keep out of her way. "

"I have not your firmness. I wish I had. It was only yesterday thatI crossed the street to keep from meeting her face to face. "

"You were wrong. "

"I can't help it; it is my weakness. Three times already have I putmyself about to avoid her; and if I could frame any good excuse forstaying away from this party, I certainly should do so. I would giveany thing for a good sick-headache on Tuesday next. "

"I am really ashamed of you, Ellen. I thought you more of a woman, "said Mr. Jones. 

The night of the party at length came round. During the whole daypreceding it, Mrs. Jones could think of nothing but the unpleasantfeelings she would have upon meeting with Mrs. Todd, and her "heartwas in her mouth" all the time. She wished a dozen times that itwould rain. But her wishes availed nothing; not a cloud was to beseen in the clear blue firmament from morning until evening. 

"Oh, if I only had some good excuse for staying at home!" she saidover and over again; but no good excuse offered. 

Mr. Jones saw that his wife was in a very unhappy state of mind, andtried his best to cheer her, but with little good effect. 

"It is no use to talk to me, I can't help it, " she replied to hisremonstrance, in a husky voice. "I am neither a stock nor a stone. "

"There's Mrs. Jones, " said one friend to another, on seeing the ladythey named enter Mrs. --'s well-filled parlours. 

"Where is Mrs. Todd?" asked the lady addressed. 

"Sure enough! where is she?" replied the other. "Oh, there she is, in the other room. I wonder why it is that she does not speak toMrs. Jones. "

"No one knows. "

"It's very strange. "

"I'll tell you what I've heard. "

"What?"

"That she's jealous of Mrs. Jones. "

"Ridiculous!"

"Isn't it. "

"I don't believe a word of it. "

"Nor I. I only told you what I had heard. "

"There must be some other reason. "

"And doubtless is. "

Meantime, Mrs. Jones found a seat in a corner, where she ensconcedherself, with the determination of keeping her place during theevening, that she might avoid the unpleasantness of coming incontact with Mrs. Todd. All this was, of course, very weak in Mrs. Jones. But she had no independent strength of character, it must beowned. 

"Poor Mrs. Jones! How cut down she looks, " remarked a lady who knewall about the trouble that existed. "I really feel sorry for her. "

"She takes it a great deal too much to heart, " was the reply. "Mrs. Todd might refuse to speak to me a dozen times, if she liked. Itwouldn't break my heart. But where is she?"

"In the other room, as gay and lively as ever I saw her. See, thereshe is. "

"Yes, I see her. Hark! You can hear her laugh to here. I mustconfess I don't like it. I don't believe she has any heart. She mustknow that Mrs. Jones is hurt at what she has done. "

"Of course she does, and her manner is meant to insult her. "

Seeing the disturbed and depressed state of Mrs. Jones's mind, twoor three of her friends held a consultation on the subject, andfinally agreed that they would ask Mrs. Todd, who seemed purposelyto avoid Mrs. Jones, why she acted towards her as she did. Butbefore they could find an opportunity of so doing, a messenger cameto say that one of Mrs. Todd's children had been taken suddenly ill. The lady withdrew immediately. 

Mrs. Jones, breathed more freely on learning that Mrs. Todd had gonehome. Soon after, she emerged from her place in the corner, andmingled with the company during the rest of the evening. 

Mrs. Todd, on arriving at home, found one of her children quitesick; but it proved to be nothing serious. On the following morning, the little fellow was quite well again. 

On that same morning, three ladies, personal friends of Mrs. Todd, met by appointment, and entered into grave consultation. They hadundertaken to find out the cause of offence that had occurred, of soserious a character as to lead Mrs. Todd to adopt so rigid a coursetowards Mrs. Jones, and, if possible, to reconcile matters. 

"The sickness of her child will be a good excuse for us to call uponher, " said one. "If he is better, we can introduce the matterjudiciously. "

"I wonder how she will take it?" suggested another. 

"Kindly, I hope, " remarked the third. 

"Suppose she does not?"

"We have done our duty. "

"True. And that consciousness ought to be enough for us. "

"She is a very proud woman, and my fear is that, having taken anopen and decided stand, will yield to neither argument norpersuasion. Last night she overacted her part. While she carefullyavoided coming in contact with Mrs. Jones, she was often near her, and on such occasions talked and laughed louder than at any othertime. I thought, once or twice, that there was something of maliceexhibited in her conduct. "

To this, one of the three assented. But the other thoughtdifferently. After some further discussion, and an ineffectualattempt to decide which of them should open the matter to Mrs. Todd, the ladies sallied forth on their errand of peace. They found Mrs. Todd at home, who received them in her usual agreeable manner. 

"How is your little boy?" was the first question, after the firstsalutations were over. 

"Much better than he was last night, I thank you. Indeed, he isquite as well as usual. "

"What was the matter with him, Mrs. Todd?"

"It is hard to tell. I found him with a high fever, when I got home. But it subsided in the course of an hour. Children often have suchattacks. They will be quite sick one hour, and apparently well thenext. "

"I am very glad to hear that it is nothing serious, " said one of theladies. "I was afraid it might have been croup, or something asbad. "

There was a pause. 

"It seemed a little unfortunate, " remarked one of the visitors, "forit deprived you of an evening's enjoyment. "

"Yes, it does appear so, but no doubt it is all right. I suppose youhad a very pleasant time?"

"Oh, yes. Delightful!"

"I hadn't seen half my friends when I was summoned away. Was Mrs. Williams there?"

"Oh, yes. "

"And Mrs. Gray?"

"Yes. "

"And Mrs. Elder?"

"Yes. "

"I didn't see either of them. "

"Not a word about Mrs. Jones, " thought the ladies. 

A light running conversation, something after this style, was keptup, with occasional pauses, for half an hour, when one of thevisitors determined to come to the point. 

"Mrs. Todd--a-hem!" she said in one of the pauses that always takeplace in uninteresting conversation. 

The lady's tone of voice had so changed from what it was a fewmoments before, that Mrs. Todd looked up at her with surprise. Noless changed was the lady's countenance. Mrs. Todd was mistified. But she was not long in doubt. 

"A-hem! Mrs. Todd, we have come to--to--as friends--mutualfriends--to ask you"--

The lady's voice broke down; but two or three "a-hems!" partiallyrestored it, and she went on. "To ask why you refused to--to--speakto Mrs. Jones?"

"Why I refused to speak to Mrs. Jones?" said Mrs. Todd, her cheekflushing. 

"Yes. Mrs. Jones is very much hurt about it, and says she cannotimagine the reason. It has made her very unhappy. As mutual friends, we have thought it our duty to try and reconcile matters. It is onthis errand that we have called this morning. Mrs. Jones says shemet you for the last time about two weeks ago, and that you refusedto speak to her. May we ask the reason. "

"You may, certainly, " was calmly replied. 

Expectation was now on tiptoe. 

"What, then, was the reason?"

"_I did not see her_. "

"What? Didn't you refuse to speak to her?"

"Never in my life. I esteem Mrs. Jones too highly. If I passed her, as you say, without speaking, it was because I did not see her. "

In less than half an hour, Mrs. Todd was at the house of Mrs. Jones. What passed between the ladies need not be told. 

ALMOST A TRAGEDY. 

A REMINISCENCE OF MR. JOHN JONES. 

IT is now about five years since I met with a little adventure inthe West, which may be worth relating. It caused me a good deal ofexcitement at first; regrets afterward, for the temporary pain Iinflicted, and many a hearty laugh since. New things come up sorapidly that it is almost impossible to keep the run of them, and itis not at all surprising that those who are content to go along inthe good old way should now and then be caught napping. I own that Iwas, completely. 

Business took me out West, in the spring of 18--, and kept me inOhio for the entire summer of that year. After a hard day's ride, inthe month of August, I entered, just before nightfall, a certaintown lying on the National Road, where I expected to remain for aweek. After taking possession of my room at the hotel; shaving, washing, and improving my appearance in other respects, I came downand took a seat in the porch that ran along the front of the house. I had not been here very long before the stage from the East droveup, and the passengers, who were to take supper, as this was astage-house, alighted. Among them, I noticed a woman with a pale, emaciated, and, I would have said, dying child in her arms. Her facewas anxious and haggard in its expression. She was accompanied by aman, whom I rightly supposed to be her husband. He immediately wentto the bar and engaged a room, saying that his child was too sick topermit them to continue their journey. 

"Do you wish a doctor?" asked the landlord. 

"No, " replied the man. "We have medicine, prescribed by our ownphysician before we left home. If that does no good, we have littleconfidence in any other remedies. "

No more was said. The man was shown to his room, whither he retiredwith his wife and sick child. The room, it so happened, was next tomine, and the two rooms communicated by a door, which was of courseclosed and fastened. 

The emaciated child and anxious mother presented a sight that fixeditself upon my mind, and excited my liveliest sympathies. I couldnot get them from my thoughts. 

About ten o'clock that night, I took a candle and went to my room. Before undressing myself, I sat down at a table to make some entriesof collections and expenses, and to think over and arrange mybusiness for the next day. All was still, except now and then aslight movement in the next chamber, where the parents were sittingup with their sick child. 

"What did you give him last?" I heard the father say, in a low, butdistinct tone. 

"Aconite, " was as distinctly replied. 

This I knew to be a deadly poison. I listened, you may be sure, witha more earnest attention. 

"How many grains?" was next asked. 

"Two, " replied the mother. 

Two grains of aconite! My hair began to rise. "I think we had betterincrease the dose to five grains. "

Horrible!

"It's an hour since he took the last, and I see no change, " said themother. "Perhaps we had better try the arsenic. "

My blood ran cold at this murderous proposition. I felt likestarting up, bursting open the door, and confronting them in theirdreadful work. But, as if spell-bound, I remained where I was. Tothe last proposition, the man replied--"I would rather see theaconite tried in a larger dose. If, in half an hour, there is novisible effect from it, then we will resort to the arsenic. "

"If you think it best, " said the mother, in a low sad voice--(wellshe might be sad over such awful work)--"let us try the aconiteagain, but in a larger dose. You will find it on the mantelpiece. "

I heard the deliberate tread of the man, as he crossed the room fora larger dose of the poison, while I hurriedly deliberated thequestion of what I should do. Before I could make up my mind to act, I heard his returning step. A few moments of awful stillnesssucceeded. I felt as if I were in the centre of a sphere, with thegravitating forces from every point of the circumference upon me. Idon't think I could have moved a limb to save my life. 

"There; let us see what they will do, " came distinctly upon my ear. 

Gracious Heaven! the deed was done. Five grains of aconite given tothe tender child, already on the verge of death! The cold sweat cameout over my whole body, and stood in clammy drops upon my forehead. All was still. Death was doing his awful work in silence. I satmotionless, under the influence of a strange irresolution orimbecility of mind, unable to determine what steps to take in amatter where all now seems as plain to me as days light. I do notknow what came over me. The fact only shows how, when placed incertain positions, we become paralyzed, and unable to act even withcommon decision. I remember saying to myself, as a justification fornot interfering at this stage of the proceedings--

"It is too late now. Five and three are eight. Eight grains ofaconite! There is no longer a vestige of hope for the child. Deathis as certain as if a bullet were fired through the sufferer'shead. "

I did not stir from where I sat, but tried to hush my deepbreathing, and quiet the loud pulsations of my heart, lest even theyshould be heard and betray my proximity to the wretches. 

Half an hour passed. There was a movement, and the murmuring soundof voices, --but, though I listened eagerly, I was not able to makeout what was said. I heard the tread of a man across the floor, andI also heard his return. I thought of the arsenic, and said tomyself, at the same time, "They will not need that. " The woman wasspeaking. I listened. 

"Was that the arsenic?"

"Yes. "

"How many grains did you give him?"

"I meant to give him three, but, in mistake, gave him six or seven. "

It was too late, now, for any interference. But, I was determinedthat the wretches should not escape. I was an ear-witness to theirmurderous act, and I resolved to bring them to the light. While Ithus mused and resolved, I was thrilled by a long, tremulous cryfrom the dying child. All was again still as death, save anoccasional deep sob, that seemed bursting up from the remnant ofstifled nature in the mother's bosom. Again that cry arose suddenlyon the air, but feebler and shorter. The mother's sob now became amoan, and soon changed to a low, wailing cry. Her child was dead. The fatal drugs had too surely done their murderous work. But whyshould she weep over the precious babe her own hand had destroyed?and why came there, now and then, from that chamber of death, a deepsighing moan, struggling up in spite of all efforts to repress it, from the breast of the miserable father? Strange enigma! I could notread, satisfactorily to myself, the difficult solution. 

I still remained quiet where I was. In a little while I heard thefather go out, and listened to his footsteps until they became lostin silence. Soon the hasty tread of several feet were heard, and twoor three females entered the room. Their presence caused the womanto cry bitterly. 

"False-hearted, cruel wretch!" I could not help muttering to myself. "Hypocritical cries and crocodile tears will not hide your sin. Anear of which you dreamed not has heard your hellish plots, and beenwitness to your hellish deeds upon the body of your poor babe. Youcannot escape. The voice of blood cries from the very ground. Thehope of the murderer is vain. He cannot hide himself from thepursuer. "

For half the night, I lay awake, thinking of what had occurred, andsettling in my mind the course of proceeding to adopt in themorning. I was up long before sunrise--in fact, long before anybodyelse was stirring--awaiting the appearance of the landlord, to whomit was my intention to give information of the dreadful deed thathad been committed. Full an hour elapsed before he made hisappearance. I immediately drew him aside. 

"There has been a death in the house, " said I. 

"Yes, " he replied. "The poor sick child that was brought here by theEastern stage last evening died in the night. I did not suppose itwould live till morning. To me, it seemed in a dying state when itsparents arrived. "

"There has been foul play, " said I, with emphasis. "That child hasnot died a natural death. "

"How so? What do you mean?" asked the landlord, with a look ofsurprise. 

"I mean what I say, " was my reply. "As sure as I am a living man, that child has been murdered. " I then related all I had heard, tothe horror and astonishment of the landlord. 

"A deed like this must not go unpunished, " he said, sternly andangrily. "It is horrible to think of it. "

After talking over the matter for some time, it was determined tocall a council of half a dozen of the regular boarders in the house, as soon as breakfast was over, and decide upon the steps best to betaken. Accordingly, after breakfast, a few of us assembled in aprivate parlour, and I again related, with minuteness, all that Ihad heard. After sundry expressions of horror and indignation, agentleman said to me--"Are you sure it was grains or granules ofaconite and arsenic that were given to the child?"

"Grains, sir, " I replied, promptly. 

"This is a serious matter, " he added; "and if there should be anymistake, it would be sad indeed to harrow the feelings of thosebereaved parents by so dreadful a charge as that of the murder oftheir own offspring. My own impression is, that our friend here isunder a mistake. "

"Can't I believe my own ears, sir?" said I, a little indignantly. 

"Don't misunderstand me, " returned the gentleman, politely. "I don'tdoubt you have heard all you say, and it may be even to the wordgrains; but I am under the impression that the arsenic and aconitegiven were in the homoeopathic preparations, and therefore no longerpoisonous. "

There was a long pause after this was said; every one present seemedto breathe more freely. I had heard of homoeopathy, and somethingabout infinitesimal doses, but had never seen the medicine used, neither did I know any thing about the mode in which it wassometimes practised. 

"Suppose we send for the man, " suggested the landlord, "and questionhim, --but in a way not to wound him, if he be innocent. "

This, after some debate, was agreed upon, and a servant was sent tohis room with a request that he would come to the parlour. He obeyedthe summons instantly, but looked a good deal surprised when he sawa grave assembly of six or seven persons. The gentleman who hadexpressed the doubt in the man's favour, said to him, as soon as hehad taken his seat--"We have learned, sir, with sincere regret, thatyou were so unfortunate as to lose your child last night--a severeaffliction. Though strangers, we deeply sympathize with you. "

The man expressed his thanks, in a few words, for the kind feelingsmanifested, and said that, as it was their only child, they felt theaffliction more severely, but were still willing to submit to theloss, as a Divine dispensation, grievous to be borne, yet intendedfor good. 

"You did not call in a physician, " said the individual who had atfirst addressed him. 

"No, " replied the man. "Before starting for Cincinnati, yesterdaymorning, we learned that, no matter how ill our child might become, we could not get the advice of a homoeopathic physician until wereached home, and we were not willing to trust our child in thehands of any other. We, therefore, before commencing our journey, obtained medicine, and advice how to administer it should alarmingsymptoms occur. "

"Homoeopathic medicines?"

"Yes, sir. "

"In powders, I suppose?"

"No, sir; in little, grains or pellets, like these. "

And he drew from his pocket a diminutive vial, the smallest I hadever seen, in which were a number of little white granules, aboutthe size of the head of a pin. A printed label was wound around thevial, and it bore the word "Arsenicum. " It passed from hand to hand, and all read it. 

"You gave this?" said the volunteer spokesman. 

"Yes, sir; that and aconite. "

"How much is a dose?"

"From one to five or six grains. "

"Or granules?"

"Yes. "

The little bottle was returned to the man, who placed it in hispocket. A pause ensued. The truth was plain enough to us all. Theindividual whose sagacity, or better information about what wasgoing on in the world, had saved a most painful denouement to thisaffair, said to the man, in a way as little as possible calculatedto wound his feelings--

"You are, of course, surprised at this proceeding--this seeminglywanton intrusion upon your grief. But you will understand it when Itell you, that a lodger, in a room adjoining yours, who knew nothingof homoeopathy, heard you speak of giving your child several grainsof aconite and arsenic. You can easily infer the impression upon hismind. This morning, he related what he had heard, when an individualhere present, who suspected the truth, suggested that you be sentfor and asked the questions which you have so satisfactorilyanswered. Do not, let me beg of you, feel hurt. What we have donewas but an act of justice to yourself. "

The man smiled sadly, and, thanking us with eyes fast filling withtears, rose up quickly to conceal his emotion, and retired from theroom. 

"Landlord, " said I, an hour afterwards, "I want my valise taken outof No. 10, and put into some other room. "

"Why so? Isn't the room a pleasant one?"

"Oh, yes; but I'd like a change. "

"Very well; we'll put you in No. 16. "

I was the "lodger in the room adjoining, " and didn't, therefore, wish to appear on the premises and be known by the man, as thegetter up of a suspicion against him. I did not come home to dinner, and kept out of the way till after dark. 

When I returned to the hotel, I was relieved to find that thebereaved parents had departed with the dead body of their child. Butthe whole company were now at liberty to laugh at what had occurredto their hearts' content, and to laugh at me in particular. I stoodit that evening, as well as I could; but finding, on the next day, that it was renewed with as keen a zest as ever, concluded to closeup my business on the spot, and leave the place--which I did. 

THAT JOHN MASON. 

"WHAT kind of people have you here?" I asked of one of my firstacquaintances, after becoming a denizen of the pleasant littlevillage of Moorfield. 

"Very clever people, with one or two exceptions, " he replied. "I amsure you will like us very well. "

"Who are the exceptions?" I asked. "For I wish to keep all suchexceptions at a distance. Being a stranger, I will, wisely, take ahint in time. It's an easy matter to shun an acquaintanceship; butby no means so easy to break it off, after it is once formed. "

"Very truly said, Mr. Jones. And I will warn you, in time, of oneman in particular. His name is John Mason. Keep clear of him, if youwish to keep out of trouble. He's as smooth and oily as a whetstone;and, like a whetstone, abrades every thing he touches. He's a badman, that John Mason. "

"Who, or what is he?" I asked. 

"He's a lawyer, and one of the principal holders of property in thetownship. But money can't gild him over. He's a bad man, that JohnMason, and my advice to you and to every one, is to keep clear ofhim. I know him like a book. "

"I'm very much obliged to you, " said I, "for your timely caution: Iwill take care to profit by it. "

My next acquaintance bore pretty much the same testimony, and so didthe next. It was plain that John Mason was not the right kind of aman, and rather a blemish upon the village of Moorfield, notwithstanding he was one of the principal property-holders in thetownship. 

"If it wasn't for that John Mason, " I heard on this hand, and, "Ifit wasn't for that John Mason!" I heard on the other hand, as myacquaintanceship among the people extended. Particularly bitteragainst him was the first individual who had whispered in my ear afriendly caution; and I hardly ever met with him, that he hadn'tsomething to say about that John Mason. 

About six months after my arrival in Moorfield, I attended a publicmeeting, at which the leading men of the township were present. Mostof them were strangers to me. At this meeting, I fell in companywith a very pleasant man, who had several times addressed thosepresent, and always in such a clear, forcible, and common-sense way, as to carry conviction to all but a few, who carped and quibbled atevery thing he said, and in a very churlish manner. Several of thosequibblers I happened to know. He represented one set of views, andthey another. His had regard for the public good; theirs looked, itwas plain, to sectional and private interests. 

"How do you like our little town, Mr. Jones?" said this individualto me, after the meeting had adjourned, and little knots ofindividuals were formed here and there for conversation. 

"Very well, " I replied. 

"And the people?" he added. 

"The people, " I answered, "appear to be about a fair sample of whatare to be found everywhere. Good and bad mixed up together. "

"Yes. That, I suppose, is a fair general estimate. "

"Of course, " I added, "we find, in all communities, certainindividuals, who stand out more prominent than therest--distinguished for good or evil. This appears to be the casehere, as well as elsewhere. "

"You have already discovered, then, that, even in Moorfield, thereare some bad men. "

"Oh, yes. There's that John Mason, for instance. "

The man looked a little surprised, but remarked, without any changeof tone--"So, you have heard of him, have you?"

"Oh, yes. "

"As a very bad man?"

"Yes, very well. Have you ever met him?"

"No, and never wish to. "

"You've seen him, I presume?"

"Never. Is he here?"

The man glanced round the room, and then replied--"I don't see him. "

"He was here, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes, and addressed the meeting several times. "

"In one of those sneering, ill-tempered answers to your remarks, nodoubt. "

The man slightly inclined his head, as if acknowledging acompliment. 

"It's a pity, " said I, "that such men as this John Mason often havewealth and some shrewdness of mind to give them power in thecommunity. "

"Perhaps, " said my auditor, "your prejudices against this man aretoo strong. He's not perfect, I know; but even the devil is oftenpainted blacker than he is. If you knew him, I rather think youwould estimate him a little differently. "

"I don't wish to know him. Opportunities have offered, but I havealways avoided an introduction. "

"Who first gave you the character of this man?" asked the individualwith whom I was conversing. 

"Mr. Laxton, " I replied. "Do you know him?"

"Oh, yes, very well. He speaks hard of Mason, does he?"

"He has cause, I believe. "

"Did he ever explain to you what it was?"

"Not very fully; but he gives him a general bad character, and sayshe has done more to injure the best interests of the village thanany ten of its worst enemies that exist. "

"Indeed! That is a sweeping declaration. But I will frankly own thatI cannot join in so broad a condemnation of the man, although he hashis faults, and no one knows them, I think, better than I do. "

This made no impression upon me. The name of John Mason wasassociated in my mind with every thing that was bad, and I repliedby saying that I was very well satisfied in regard to his character, and didn't mean to have any thing to do with him while I lived inMoorfield. 

Some one interrupted our conversation at this point, and I wasseparated from my very agreeable companion. I met him frequentlyafterwards, and he was always particularly polite to me, and once ortwice asked me if I had fallen in with that John Mason yet; to whichI always replied in the negative, and expressed myself as ever inregard to the personage mentioned. 

Careful as we may be to keep out of trouble, we are not alwayssuccessful in our efforts. When I removed to Moorfield, I supposedmy affairs to be in a very good way; but things proved to beotherwise. I was disappointed, not only in the amount I expected toreceive from the business I followed in the village, butdisappointed in the receipt of money I felt sure of getting by acertain time. 

When I first came to Moorfield, I bought a piece of property fromLaxton--this business transaction made us acquainted--and paid, cashdown, one-third of the purchase-money, the property remaining assecurity for the two-thirds, which I was under contract to settle ata certain time. My first payment was two thousand dollars. Unfortunately, when the final payment became due, I was not infunds, and the prospect of receiving money within five or six monthswas any thing but good. In this dilemma, I waited upon Laxton, andinformed him of my disappointment. His face became grave. 

"I hope it will not put you to any serious inconvenience. "

"What?" he asked. 

"My failure to meet this payment on the property. You are fullysecured, and within six months I will be able to do what I had hopedto do at this time. "

"I am sorry, Mr. Jones, " he returned, "but I have made all mycalculations to receive the sum due at this time, and cannot dowithout it. "

"But I haven't the money, Mr. Laxton, and have fully explained toyou the reason why. "

"That is your affair, not mine, Mr. Jones. If you have beendisappointed at one point, it is your business to look to another. Acontract is a contract. "

"Will you not extend the time of payment?" said I. 

"No, sir, I cannot. "

"What will you do?"

"Do? You ask a strange question. "

"Well, what will you do?"

"Why, raise the money on the property. "

"How will you do that?"

"Sell it, of course. "

I asked no further questions, but left him and went away. Beforereaching home, to which place I was retiring in order to think overthe position in which I was placed, and determine what steps totake, if any were left to me, I met the pleasant acquaintance I hadmade at the town-meeting. 

"You look grave, Mr. Jones, " said he, as we paused, facing eachother. "What's the matter?"

I frankly told him my difficulty. 

"So Laxton has got you in his clutches, has he?" was the simple, yet, I perceived, meaning reply that he made. 

"I am in his clutches, certainly, " said I. "And will not get out ofthem very easily, I apprehend. "

"What will he do?"

"He will sell the property at auction. "

"It won't bring his claim under the hammer. "

"No, I suppose not, for that is really more than the property isworth. "

"Do you think so?"

"Certainly I do. I know the value of every lot of ground in thetownship, and know that you have been taken in in your purchase. "

"What do you suppose it will bring at a forced sale?"

"Few men will bid over twenty-five hundred dollars. "

"You cannot be serious?"

"I assure you I am. He, however, will overbid all, up to fourthousand. He will, probably, have it knocked down to him at threethousand, and thus come into the unencumbered possession of a pieceof property upon which he has received two thousand dollars. "

"But three thousand dollars will not satisfy his claim against me. "

"No. You will still owe him a thousand dollars. "

"Will he prosecute his claim?"

"He?" And the man smiled. "Yes, to the last extremity, if there behope of getting any thing. "

"Then I am certainly in a bad way. "

"I'm afraid you are, unless you can find some one here who willbefriend you in the matter. "

"There is no one here who will lend me four thousand dollars uponthat piece of property, " said I. 

"I don't know but one man who is likely to do it, " was answered. 

"Who is that?" I asked, eagerly. 

"John Mason. "

"John Mason! I'll never go to him. "

"Why not?"

"I might as well remain where I am as get into his hands--a sharperand a lawyer to boot. No, no. Better to bear the evils that we have, than fly to others that we know not of. "

"You may get assistance somewhere else, but I am doubtful, " said theman; and, bowing politely, passed on, and left me to my ownunpleasant reflections. 

Laxton made as quick work of the business as the nature of the casewould admit, and in a very short time the property was advertised atpublic sale. As the time for the sale approached, the great desireto prevent the sacrifice that I was too well assured would takeplace, suggested the dernier resort of ailing upon Mason; but myprejudice against the man was so strong, that I could not get my ownconsent to do so. 

On the day before the sale, I met the individual before alluded to. 

"Have you been to see Mason?" he asked. 

I shook my head. 

"Then you have made up your mind to let that scoundrel, Laxton, fleece you out of your property?"

"I see no way of preventing it. "

"Why don't you try Mason?"

"I don't believe it would do any good. "

"I think differently. "

"If he did help me out of this difficulty, " I replied, "it wouldonly be to get me into a more narrow corner. "

"You don't know any such thing, " said the man, a different tone fromany in which he had yet taken when Mason was the subject of ourremarks. 

"Think, for a moment, upon the basis of your prejudice; it liesmainly upon the assertion of Laxton, from your own experience hasproved to be a scoundrel. The fact is, your estimate of Mason'scharacter is entirely erroneous. Laxton hates him, because he hascircumvented him more than a dozen times in his schemes of iniquity, and will circumvent him again, if I do not greatly err, provided yougive him the opportunity of doing so. "

There was force in the view. True enough; what confidence was thereto be placed in Laxton's words? And if Mason had circumvented him;as was alleged, of course there was a very good reason fordetraction. 

"At what hour do you think I can see him?" said I. 

"I believe he is usually in about twelve o'clock. "

"I will see him, " said I, with emphasis. 

"Do so, " returned the man; "and may your interview be assatisfactory as you can desire. "

At twelve, precisely, I called upon Mason, not without manymisgivings, I must own. I found my prejudices still strong; and asto the good result, I could not help feeling serious doubts. Onentering his office, I found no one present but the individual underwhose advice I had called. 

"Mr. Mason is not in, " said I, feeling a little disappointed. 

"Oh, yes, he is in, " was replied. I looked around, and then turnedmy eyes upon the man's face. I did not exactly comprehend itsexpression. 

"My name is John Mason, " said he, bowing politely; "so be seated, and let us talk over the business upon which you have called on me. "

I needed no invitation to sit down, for I could not have kept myfeet if I had tried, so suddenly and completely did his wordsastonish and confound me. 

I will not repeat the confused, blundering apologies I attempted tomake, nor give his gentlemanly replies. Enough, that an hour beforethe time at which the sale was advertised to take place on the nextday, I waited upon Laxton. 

"Be kind enough, " said I, "to let me have that obligation upon whichyour present stringent measures are founded. I wish to take it up. "

The man looked perfectly blank. 

"Mr. John Mason, " said I, "has generously furnished me with thefunds necessary to save my property from sacrifice, and will takethe securities you hold. "

"Blast that John Mason!" ejaculated Laxton, with excessivebitterness, turning away and leaving where I stood. I waited for tenminutes, but did not come back. A suspicion that he meant let thesale go on, if possible, crossed my mind, and I returned to Mason, who saw the sheriff and the whole matter arranged. 

Laxton has never spoken to me since. As for "That John Mason, " Ihave proved him to be fast friend, and a man of strict honour inevery thing. So much for slander. 

A NEW WAY TO COLLECT AN OLD DEBT. 

EARLY in life, Mr. Jenkins had been what is called unfortunate inbusiness. Either from the want of right management, or from causesthat he could not well control, he became involved, and was brokenall to pieces. It was not enough that he gave up every dollar hepossessed in the world. In the hope that friends would interfere toprevent his being sent to jail, some of his creditors pressedeagerly for the balance of their claims, and the unhappy debtor hadno alternative but to avail himself of the statute made and providedfor the benefit of individuals in his extremity. It was a sore trialfor him; but any thing rather than to be thrown into prison. 

After this tempest of trouble and excitement, there fell upon thespirits of Mr. Jenkins a great calm. He withdrew himself from publicobservation for a time, but his active mind would not let him remainlong in obscurity. In a few months, he was again in business, thoughin a small way. His efforts were more cautiously directed thanbefore, and proved successful. He made something above his expensesduring the first year, and after that accumulated money rapidly. Infive or six years, Mr. Jenkins was worth some nine or ten thousanddollars. 

But with this prosperity came no disposition on the part of Mr. Jenkins to pay off his old obligations. "They used the law againstme, " he would say, when the subject pressed itself upon his mind, asit would sometimes do, "and now let them get what the law will givethem. "

There was a curious provision in the law by which Jenkins had beenfreed from all the claims of his creditors against him; and thisprovision is usually incorporated in all similar laws, though forwhat reason it is hard to tell. It is only necessary to promise topay a claim thus annulled, to bring it in full force against thedebtor. If a man owes another a hundred dollars, and, by economy andself-denial, succeeds in saving twenty dollars and paying them tohim, he becomes at once liable for the remaining eighty dollars, unless the manner of doing it be very guarded, and is in danger of aprosecution, although unable to pay another cent. A prudent man, whohas once been forced into the unhappy alternative of taking thebenefit of the insolvent law, is always careful, lest, in anunguarded moment, he acknowledge his liability to some old creditor, before he is fully able to meet it. Anxious as he is to assure thisone and that one of his desire and intention to pay them, if ever inhis power, and to say to them that he is struggling early and latefor their sakes as well as his own, his lips must remain sealed. Aword of his intentions, and all his fond hopes of getting fairly onhis feet again are in danger of shipwreck. 

Understanding the binding force of a promise of this kind, made inwriting or in the presence of witnesses, certain of the more selfishor less manly and honorable class of creditors are ever seeking toextort by fair or foul means, from an unfortunate debtor, who hashonestly given up every thing, an acknowledgment of his indebtednessto them, in order that they may reap the benefit of his firstefforts to get upon his feet again. Many and many an honest butindiscreet debtor has been thrown upon his back once more from thiscause, and all his hopes in life blasted for ever. The means ofapproach to a debtor, in this situation, are many and various. "Doyou think you will ever be able to do any thing on that oldaccount?" blandly asked, in the presence of a third party, isanswered by, "I hope so. But, at present, it takes every dollar Ican earn for the support of my family. " This is sufficient--thewhole claim is in full force. In the course of a month or two, perhaps in a less period, a sheriff's writ is served, and the poorfellow's furniture, or small stock in trade, is seized, and hebroken all up again. To have replied--"You have no claim againstme, " to the insidious question, seemed in the mind of the poor, buthonest man, so much like a public confession that he was a rogue, that he could not do it. And yet this was his only right course, andhe should have taken it firmly. Letters are often written, callingattention to the old matter, in which are well-timed allusions tothe debtor's known integrity of character, and willingness to payevery dollar he owes in the world, if ever able. Such letters shouldnever be answered, for the answer will be almost sure to containsomething that, in a court of justice, will be construed into anacknowledgment of the entire claim. In paying off old accounts thatthe law has cancelled, which we think every man should do, if in hispower, the acknowledgment of indebtedness never need go further thanthe amount paid at any time. Beyond this, no creditor, who does notwish to oppress, will ask a man to go. If any seek a further revivalof the old claim, let the debtor be aware of them; and also, let himbe on his guard against him who in any way alludes, either inwriting or personally, to the previous indebtedness. 

But we have digressed far enough. Mr. Jenkins, we are sorry to say, was not of that class of debtors who never consider an obligationmorally cancelled. The law once on his side, he fully made up hismind to keep it for ever between him and all former transactions. Sundry were the attempts made to get old claims against him revived, after it was clearly understood that he was getting to be worthmoney; but Jenkins was a rogue at heart, and rogues are always morewary than honest men. 

Among the creditors of Jenkins, was a man named Gooding, who hadloaned him five hundred dollars, and lost three hundred ofit--two-fifths being all that was realized from the debtor'seffects. Gooding pitied sincerely the misfortunes of Jenkins, andpocketed his loss without saying a hard word, or laying the weightof a finger upon his already too heavily burdened shoulders. But itso happened, that as Jenkins commenced going up in the world, Gooding began to go down. At the time when the former was clearlyworth ten thousand dollars, he was hardly able to get money enoughto pay his quarterly rent-bills. Several times he thought of callingthe attention of his old debtor to the balance still against him, which, as it was for borrowed money, ought certainly to be paid. Butit was an unpleasant thing to remind a friend of an old obligation, and Gooding, for a time, chose to bear his troubles, as the leastdisagreeable of the two alternatives. At last, however, difficultiespressed so hard upon him, that he forced himself to the task. 

Both he and Jenkins lived about three-quarters of a mile distantfrom their places of business, in a little village beyond thesuburbs of the city. Gooding was lame, and used to ride to and fromhis store in a small wagon, which was used for sending home goodsduring the day. Jenkins usually walked into town in the morning, andhome in the evening. It not unfrequently happened that Goodingovertook the latter, while riding home after business hours, when healways invited him to take a seat by his side, which invitation wasnever declined. They were, riding home in this way, one evening, when Gooding, after clearing his throat two or three times, said, with a slight faltering in his voice--"I am sorry, neighbourJenkins, to make any allusion to old matters, but as you are gettingalong very comfortably, and I am rather hard pressed, don't youthink you could do something for me on account of the three hundreddollars due for borrowed money. If it had been a regular businessdebt, I would never have said a word about it, but"--

"Neighbour Gooding, " said Jenkins, interrupting him, "don't giveyourself a moment's uneasiness about that matter. It shall be paid, every dollar of it; but I am not able, just yet, to make it up foryou. But you shall have it. "

This was said in the blandest way imaginable, yet in a tone ofearnestness. 

"How soon do you think you can do something for me?" asked Gooding. 

"I don't know. If not disappointed, however, I think I can spare youa little in a couple of months. "

"My rent is due on the first of October. If you can let me have, sayfifty dollars, then, it will be a great accommodation. "

"I will see. If in my power, you shall certainly have at least thatamount. "

Two months rolled round, and Gooding's quarter-day came. Nothingmore had been said by Jenkins on the subject of the fifty dollars, and Gooding felt very reluctant about reminding him of his promise;but he was short in making up his rent, just the promised sum. Hewaited until late in the day, but Jenkins neither sent nor called. As the matter was pressing, he determined to drop in upon hisneighbour, and remind him of what he had said. He accordingly wentround to the store of Jenkins, and found him alone with his clerk. 

"How are you to-day?" said Jenkins, smiling. 

"Very well. How are you?"

"So, so. "

Then came a pause. 

"Business rather dull, " remarked Jenkins. 

"Very, " replied Gooding, with a serious face, and more serious toneof voice. "Nothing at all doing. I never saw business so flat in mylife. "

"Flat enough. "

Another pause. 

"Ahem! Mr. Jenkins, " began Gooding, after a few moments, "do youthink you can do any thing for me to-day?"

"If there is any thing I can do for you, it shall be done withpleasure, " said Jenkins, in a cheerful way. "In what can I obligeyou?"

"You remember, you said that in all probability you would be able tospare me as much as fifty dollars to-day?"

"_I_ said so?" Jenkins asked this question with an appearance ofreal surprise. 

"Yes. Don't you remember that we were riding home one evening, abouttwo months ago, and I called your attention to the old accountstanding between us, and you promised to pay it soon, and said youthought you could spare me fifty dollars about the time my quarter'srent became due?"

"Upon my word, friend Gooding, I have no recollection of thecircumstance whatever, " replied Jenkins with a smile. "It must havebeen some one else with whom you were riding. I never said I owedyou any thing, or promised to pay you fifty dollars about thistime. "

"Oh, yes! but I am sure you did. "

"And I am just as sure that I did not, " returned Jenkins, stillperfectly undisturbed, while Gooding, as might be supposed, felt hisindignation just ready to boil over. But the latter controlledhimself as best he could; and as soon as he could get away from thestore of Jenkins, without doing so in a manner that would tend toclose all intercourse between them, he left and returned to his ownplace of business, chagrined and angry. 

On the same evening, as Gooding was riding home, he saw Jenkinsahead of him on the road. He soon overtook him. Jenkins turned hisusual smiling face upon his old creditor, and said, "Good evening, "in his usual friendly way. The invitation to get up and ride, thatwas always given on like occasions, was extended again, and in a fewmoments the two men were riding along, side by side, as friendly, toall appearance, as if nothing had happened. 

"Jenkins, how could you serve me such a scaly trick as you did?"Gooding said, soon after his neighbour had taken a seat by his side. "You know very well that you promised to pay my claim; and alsopromised to give me fifty dollars of it to-day, if possible. "

"I know I did. But it was out of my power to let you have any thingto-day, " replied Jenkins. 

"But what was the use of your denying it, and making me out a liaror a fool, in the presence of your clerk?"

"I had a very good reason for doing so. My clerk would have been awitness to my acknowledgment of your whole claim against me, andthus make me liable before I was ready to pay it. As my head isfairly clear of the halter, you cannot blame me for wishing to keepit so. A burnt child, you know, dreads the fire. "

"But you know me well enough to know that I never would have pressedthe claim against you. "

"Friend Gooding, I have seen enough of the world to satisfy me thatwe don't know any one. I am very ready to say to you, that yourclaim shall be satisfied to the full extent, whenever it is in mypower to do so; but a legal acknowledgment of the claim I am notwilling to make. You mustn't think hard of me for what I did to-day. I could not, in justice to myself, have done any thing else. "

Gooding professed to be fully satisfied with this explanation, although he was not. He was very well assured that Jenkins wasperfectly able to pay him the three hundred dollars, if he chose todo so, and that his refusal to let him have the fifty dollars, conditionally promised, was a dishonest act. 

More than a year passed, during which time Gooding made manyfruitless attempts to get something out of Jenkins, who was alwayson the best terms with him, but put him off with fair promises, thatwere never kept. These promises were never made in the presence of athird person, and might, therefore, have just as well been made tothe wind, so far as their binding force was concerned. Things grewworse and worse with Gooding, and he became poorer every day, whilethe condition of Jenkins as steadily improved. 

One rainy afternoon, Gooding drove up to the store of his oldfriend, about half an hour earlier than he usually left for home. Jenkins was standing in the door. 

"As it is raining, I thought I would call round for you, " he said, as he drew up his horse. 

"Very much obliged to you, indeed, " returned Jenkins, quite wellpleased. "Stop a moment, until I lock up my desk, and then I will bewith you. "

In a minute or two Jenkins came out, and stepped lightly into thewagon. 

"It is kind in you, really, to call for me, " he said, as the wagonmoved briskly away. "I was just thinking that I should have to get acarriage. "

"It is no trouble to me at all, " returned Gooding, "and if it were, the pleasure of doing a friend a kindness would fully repay it. "

"You smell strong of whisky here, " said Jenkins, after they hadridden a little way, turning his eyes toward the back part of thewagon as he spoke. "What have you here?"

"An empty whisky-hogshead. This rain put me in mind of doing what mywife has been teasing me to do for the last six months--get her arain-barrel. I tried to get an old oil-cask, but couldn't find one. They make the best rain-barrels. Just burn them out with a flash ofgood dry shavings, and they are clear from all oily impurities, andtight as a drum. "

"Indeed! I never thought of that. I must look out for one, for ourold rain-hogshead is about tumbling to pieces. "

From rain-barrels the conversation turned upon business, and atlength Gooding brought up the old story, and urged the settlement ofhis claim as a matter of charity. 

"You don't know how much I need it, " he said. "Necessity alonecompels me to press the claim upon your attention. "

"It is hard, I know, and I am very sorry for you, " Jenkins replied. "Next week, I will certainly pay you fifty dollars. "

"I shall be very thankful. How soon after do you think you will beable to let me have the balance of the three hundred due me. Say asearly as possible. "

"Within three months, at least, I hope, " replied Jenkins. 

"Harry! Do you hear that?" said Gooding, turning his head toward theback part of the wagon, and speaking in a quick, elated manner. 

"Oh, ay!" came ringing from the bunghole of the whisky-hogshead. 

"Who the dickens is that?" exclaimed Jenkins, turning quickly round. 

"No one, " replied Gooding, with a quiet smile, "but my clerk, HarryWilliams. "

"Where?"

"Here, " replied the individual named, pushing himself up through theloose head of the upright hogshead, and looking into the face of thediscomfited Jenkins, with a broad smile of satisfaction upon hisalways humorous phiz. 

"Whoa, Charley, " said Gooding, at this moment reining up his horsebefore the house of Jenkins. 

The latter stepped out, with his eyes upon the ground, and stoodwith his hand upon the wagon, in thought, for some moments; thenlooking up, he said, while the humour of the whole thing presseditself so full upon him, that he could not help smiling, "See here, Gooding, if both you and Harry will promise me never tosay a word about this confounded trick, I will give you a check forthree hundred dollars on the spot. "

"No, I must have four hundred and twenty-six dollars, the principaland interest. Nothing less, " returned Gooding firmly. "You haveacknowledged the debt in the presence of Mr. Williams, and if it isnot paid by to-morrow twelve o'clock, I shall commence suit againstyou. If I receive the money before that time, we will keep thislittle matter quiet; if suit is brought, all will come out on thetrial. "

"As you please, " said Jenkins angrily, turning away, and enteringhis house. 

Before twelve o'clock on the next day, however, Jenkins's clerkcalled in at the store of Gooding, and paid him four hundred andtwenty-six dollars, for which he took his receipt in full for alldemands to date. The two men were never afterward on terms ofsufficient intimacy to ride in the same wagon together. WhetherGooding and his clerk kept the matter a secret, as they promised, wedon't know. It is very certain, that it was known all over town inless than a week, and soon after was told in the newspapers, as amost capital joke. 

A SHOCKING BAD MEMORY. 

"MUST I give up every thing?" asked Mr. Hardy of his lawyer, withwhom he was holding a consultation as to the mode and manner ofgetting clear of certain responsibilities in the shape of debt. 

"Yes, every thing, or commit perjury. The oath you have taken isvery comprehensive. If you keep back as much as ten dollars, youwill swear falsely. "

"Bad--bad. I have about seven thousand dollars, and I owe twentythousand. To divide this among my creditors, gives them but a smallsum apiece, while it strips me of every thing. Is there no way, Mr. Dockett, by which I can retain this money, and yet not take a falseoath? You gentlemen of the bar can usually find some loop-hole inthe law out of which to help your clients. I know of several whohave gone through the debtors' mill, and yet not come forthpenniless; and some of them, I know, would not be guilty of falseswearing. "

"Oh yes, the thing is done every day. "

"Ah, well, how is it done?"

"The process is very simple. Take your seven thousand dollars, andmake it a present to some friend, in whom you can confide. Then youwill be worth nothing, and go before the insolvent commissioners andswear until you are black and blue, without perjuring yourself. "

"Humph! is that the way it is done?" said Mr. Hardy. 

"The very way. "

"But suppose the friend should decline handing it back?"

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders as he replied, "You must take carewhom you trust in an affair of this kind. At worst, however, youwould be just as well off, assuming that your friend should hold onto what you gave him, as you would be if you abandoned all to yourcreditors. "

"True, if I abandon all, there is no hope of, even getting back adollar. It is the same as if I had thrown every thing into the sea. "

"Precisely. "

"While, in adopting the plan you propose, the chances for gettingback my own again are eight to ten in my favour. "

"Or, you might almost say, ten to ten. No friend into whose handsyou confided the little remnant of your property would be so base asto withhold it from you. "

"I will do it, " said Mr. Hardy, as he parted with the lawyer. 

One day, a few weeks after this interview took place, the client ofMr. Dockett came hurriedly into his office, and, drawing him aside, said, as he slipped a small package into his hand, "Here issomething for you. You remember our conversation a short time ago?"

"Oh, very well. "

"You understand me, Mr. Dockett?"

"Oh, perfectly! all right; when do you go before the commissioners?"

"To-morrow. "

"Ah?"

"Yes--good morning. I will see you again as soon as all is over. "

"Very well--good morning. "

On the next day, Mr. Hardy met before the commissioners, and took asolemn oath that he had truly and honestly given up into the handsof his assignee every dollar of his property, for the benefit of hiscreditors, and that he did not now possess any thing beyond what thelaw permitted him to retain. Upon this, the insolvent commissionersgave him a full release from the claims that were held against him, and Mr. Hardy was able to say, as far as the law was concerned, "Iowe no man any thing. "

Mr. Dockett, the lawyer, was sitting in his office on the day afterhis client had shuffled off his coil of debt, his mind intent uponsome legal mystery, when the latter individual came in with a lightstep and cheerful air. 

"Good morning, Mr. Hardy, " said the lawyer, smiling blandly. 

"Good morning, " returned the client. 

"How are things progressing?" inquired the lawyer. 

"All right, " returned Hardy, rubbing his hands. "I am at last a freeman. The cursed manacle of debt has been stricken off--I feel like anew being. "

"For which I most sincerely congratulate you, " returned the lawyer. 

"For your kindness in so materially aiding me in the matter, " saidMr. Hardy, after a pause, "I am most truly grateful. You have beenmy friend as well as my legal adviser. "

"I have only done by you as I would have done by any other man, "replied the lawyer. "You came to me for legal advice, and I gave itfreely. "

"Still, beyond that, you have acted as my disinterested friend, "said Mr. Hardy; "and I cannot express my gratitude in termssufficiently strong. "

The lawyer bowed low, and looked just a little mistified. A slightdegree of uneasiness was felt by the client. A pause now ensued. Mr. Hardy felt something like embarrassment. For some time he talkedaround the subject uppermost in his mind, but the lawyer did notappear to see the drift of his remarks. At last, he said--

"Now that I have every thing arranged, I will take the littlepackage I yesterday handed you. "

There was a slight expression of surprise on the countenance of Mr. Dockett, as he looked inquiringly into the face of his client. 

"Handed to me?" he said, in a tone the most innocent imaginable. 

"Yes, " returned Hardy, with much earnestness. "Don't you recollectthe package containing seven thousand dollars, that I placed in yourhands to keep for me, yesterday, while I went before thecommissioners?"

The lawyer looked thoughtful, but shook his head. 

"Oh, but Mr. Dockett, " said Hardy, now becoming excited; "you mustremember it. Don't you recollect that I came in here yesterday, while you were engaged with a couple of gentlemen, and took youaside for a moment? It was then that I gave you the money. "

Mr. Dockett raised his eyes to the ceiling, and mused for some time, as if trying to recall the circumstance to which allusion was made. He then shook his head, very deliberately, two or three times, remarking, as he did so, "You are evidently labouring under aserious mistake, Mr. Hardy. I have not the most remote recollectionof the incident to which you refer. So far from having received thesum of money you mention, I do not remember having seen you for atleast a week before to-day. I am very certain you have not been inmy office within that time, unless it were when I was away. Yourmemory is doubtless at fault. You must have handed the money to someone else, and, in the excitement of the occasion, confounded me withthat individual. Were I not charitable enough to suppose this, Ishould be deeply offended by what you now say. "

"Mr. Dockett, " returned the client, contracting his brow heavily, "Do you take me for a simpleton?"

"Pray don't get excited, Mr. Hardy, " replied the lawyer, with theutmost coolness. "Excitement never does any good. Better collectyour thoughts, and try and remember into whose hands you really didplace your money. That I have not a dollar belonging to you, I canpositively affirm. "

"Perhaps you call my seven thousand dollars your own now. I gave youthe sum, according to your own advice; but it was an understoodmatter that you were to hand the money back so soon as I hadappeared before the commissioners. "

"Mr. Hardy!" and the lawyer began to look angry. "Mr. Hardy, I willpermit neither you nor any other man to face me with such aninsinuation. Do you take me for a common swindler? You came andasked if there was not some mode by which you could cheat yourcreditors out of six or seven thousand dollars; and I, as in dutybound, professionally, told you how the law might be evaded. And nowyou affirm that I joined you as a party in this nefarioustransaction! This is going a little too far?"

Amazement kept the duped client dumb for some moments. When he wouldhave spoken, his indignation was so great that he was afraid totrust himself to utter what was in his mind. Feeling that too muchwas at stake to enter into any angry contest with the man who hadhim so completely in his power, Mr. Hardy tore himself away, by adesperate effort, in order that, alone, he might be able to thinkmore calmly, and devise, if possible, the means whereby thedefective memory of the lawyer might be quickened. 

On the next day, he went again to the office of his legal adviser, and was received very kindly by that individual. 

"I am sure, Mr. Dockett, " he said, after he was seated, speaking ina soft, insinuating tone of voice, "that you can now remember thelittle fact of which I spoke yesterday. "

But Mr. Dockett shook his head, and answered, "You have made somemistake, Mr. Hardy. No such sum of money was ever intrusted to me. "

"Perhaps, " said Hardy, after thinking for a few minutes, "I may havebeen in error in regard to the amount of money contained in thepackage. Can't you remember having received five thousand dollarsfrom me? Think now!"

The lawyer thought for a little while, and then shook his head. 

"No, I have not the slightest recollection of having received such asum of money from you. "

"The package may only have contained four thousand dollars, " saidMr. Hardy, driven to this desperate expedient in the hope ofinducing the lawyer to share the plunder of the creditors. 

But Mr. Dockett again shook his head. 

"Say, then, I gave you but three thousand dollars. "

"No, " was the emphatic answer. 

"But I am sure you will remember having received two thousanddollars from my hand. "

"No, nor one thousand, nor one hundred, " replied the lawyerpositively. 

"Mr. Dockett, you are a knave!" exclaimed the client, springing tohis feet and shaking his clenched fists at the lawyer. 

"And you are both a knave, and a fool, " sneeringly replied Mr. Dockett. 

Hardy, maddened to desperation, uttered a threat of personalviolence, and advanced upon the lawyer. 

But the latter was prepared for him, and, before the excited clienthad approached three paces, there was heard a sharp click; and atthe same moment, the six dark barrels of a "revolver" becamevisible. While Mr. Dockett thus coolly held his assailant at bay, headdressed him in this wise:

"Mr. Hardy, from what you have just said, it is clear that you havebeen playing a swindling game with your creditors, and stained yoursoul with perjury into the bargain!--Now, if you do not leave myoffice instantly, I will put your case in the hands of the GrandJury, at present in session, and let you take your chance for theState prison on the charge of false swearing!"

Mr. Hardy became instantly as quiet as a lamb. For a few moments, helooked at the lawyer in bewildered astonishment, and then, turningaway, left his office, in a state of mind more easily imagined thandescribed. 

Subsequently, he tried, at various times and on various occasions, to refresh the memory of Mr. Dockett on the subject of the seventhousand dollars, but the lawyer remained entirely oblivious, and tothis day has not been able to recall a single incident attending thealleged transfer. 

Mr. Dockett has, without doubt, a shocking bad memory. 

DRIVING A HARD BARGAIN. 

WE know a great many businessmen, famous for driving hard bargains, who would consider an insinuation that they were not influenced byhonest principles in their dealings a gross outrage. And yet such aninsinuation would involve only the truth. Hard bargains, by whichothers are made to suffer in order that we may gain, are not honesttransactions; and calling them so don't in the least alter theirquality. 

We have our doubts whether men who overreach others in this way, arereally gainers in the end. They get to be known, and are dealt withby the wary as sharpers. 

A certain manufacturer--we will not say of what place, for, ourstory being substantially true, to particularize in this respectwould be almost like pointing out the parties concerned--was obligedto use a kind of goods imported only by two or three houses. Thearticle was indispensable in his business, and his use of it wasextensive. This man, whom we will call Eldon, belonged to the classof bargain makers. It was a matter of principle with him never toclose a transaction without, if possible, getting an advantage. Theordinary profits of trade did not satisfy him; he wanted to go alittle deeper. The consequence was that almost every one was on thelook out for him; and it not unfrequently happened that he paid morefor an article which he imagined he was getting, in consequence ofsome manoeuvre, at less than cost, than his next-door neighbour, whodealt fairly and above-board. 

One day, a Mr. Lladd, an importer, called upon him, and said--

"I'd like to close out that entire lot of goods, Eldon. I wish you'dtake them. "

"How many pieces have you left?" inquired Eldon, with assumedindifference. It occurred to him, on the instant, that the merchantwas a little pressed, and that, in consequence, he might drive asharp bargain with him. 

"Two hundred. "

Eldon shook his head. 

"What's the matter?" asked Lladd. 

"The lot is too heavy. "

"You'll work up every piece before six months. "

"No, indeed. Not in twelve months. "

"Oh, yes, you will. I looked over your account yesterday, and findthat you have had a hundred aid fifty pieces from me alone, and insix months. "

"You must be in error. "

"No. It is just as I say. "

"Well, what terms do you offer?"

"If you will take the entire lot, you may have them for ten and aquarter, three months. "

Eldon thought for a few moments, and then shook his head. 

"You must say better than that. "

"What better can you ask? You have been buying a dozen pieces at atime, for ten and a half, cash, and now I offer you the lot at tenand a quarter, three months. "

"Not inducement enough. If you will say ten at six months, perhaps Iwill close with you. "

"No. I have named the lowest price and best terms. If you like totake the goods, well and good; if not, why you can go on and pay tenand a half, cash, as before. "

"I'll give you what I said. "

"Oh, no, Mr. Eldon. Not a cent less will bring them. "

"Very well. Then we can't trade, " said the manufacturer. 

"As you like, " replied the merchant. 

And the two men parted. 

Now Eldon thought the offer of Lladd a very fair one, and meant toaccept of it, if he could make no better terms; but seeing that themerchant had taken the pains to come and offer him the goods, hesuspected that he was in want of money, and would take less than heasked, in order to get his note and pass it through bank. But heerred in this. Eldon fully expected to see Mr. Lladd before threedays went by. But two weeks elapsed, and as there had been no visitfrom the dealer, the manufacturer found it necessary to go to him, in order to get a fresh supply of goods. So he went to see him. 

"I must have a dozen pieces of those goods to-day, " said he, as hemet Mr. Lladd. 

"Very well. They are at your service. "

"You'll sell them at ten and a quarter, I suppose?"

Mr. Lladd shook his head. 

"But you offered them at that, you know. "

"I offered the whole lot at that price, and the offer is still open;though I am in no way particular about selling. "

Since ten dollars and a quarter a piece had been mentioned; the ideaof paying more had become entirely obliterated from the mind ofEldon. 

"But if you can sell for ten and a quarter, three months, you cansell for the same, cash. "

"Yes, so I can; but I don't mean to do it. "

The merchant felt a little fretted. Eldon was disappointed. He stoodchaffering for some time longer; but finding it impossible to bringLladd over to his terms, he finally agreed to take the two hundredpieces at ten and a quarter, on his note at three months. 

Still he was far from being satisfied. He had fully believed thatthe merchant was pressed for money, and that he would in consequencebe able to drive a hard bargain with him. Notwithstanding he hadbeen compelled to go to Lladd, and to accept his terms, he yetbelieved that money was an object to him, and that, rather than nothave the sale confirmed, he would let it be closed at ten dollars apiece, on a note at six months. So firmly was he impressed with thisidea, that he finally concluded to assume, boldly, that ten dollarswas the price agreed upon, and to affect surprise that the billexpressed any other rate. 

In due time, the goods were delivered and the bill sent in. Immediately upon this being done, Eldon called upon the merchant andsaid, in a confident manner, as he laid the bill he had receivedupon his desk. 

"You've made a mistake, haven't you?"

"How?"

"In charging these goods. "

"No. I told you the price would be ten and a quarter, didn't I?"

"I believe not. I understood the terms to be ten dollars, at sixmonths. "

"You offered that, but I positively refused it. "

"I am sure I understood you as accepting my offer, and ordered thegoods to be sent home under that impression. "

"If so, you erred, " coolly replied Lladd. 

"I can't take them at the price called for in this bill, " saidEldon, assuming a positive air, and thinking, by doing so, Lladdwould deem it his better policy to let the goods go at ten dollars. 

"Then you can send them home, " replied the merchant, in a mannerthat offended Eldon. 

"Very well, I will do so, and you may keep your goods, " he retorted, betraying, as he spoke, a good deal of warmth. 

And the goods were sent back, both parties feeling offended; Lladdat the glaring attempt made to overreach him, and Eldon because theother would not submit to be overreached. 

On the day following, Eldon started out in search of another lot ofthe goods he wanted, and thought himself fortunate in meeting withsome in the hands of a dealer named Miller, but demurred when twelvedollars and a half a piece were asked for them. 

"I can't take less, " was replied. 

"But, " said Eldon, "Lladd has the same article for ten and a half. "

"You don't pretend to put his goods alongside of mine?" returnedMiller. 

Eldon examined them more closely. 

"They are better, it is true. But the difference is not so great asthe price. "

"Look again. "

Another close examination was made. 

"They are finer and thicker certainly. But you ask too much forthem. "

"It's my lowest price. They will bring it in the market, which isnow bare. "

"Won't you let me have a dozen pieces at twelve dollars?" askedEldon. 

"Can't sell a piece for less than what I said. "

Eldon hung on for some time, but finally ordered a dozen pieces tobe sent home, and paid the bill, though with a bad grace. Still, hewas so angry with Lladd because he had shown a proper resentment atthe effort made to overreach him, that he determined to buy no moreof his goods if he could supply himself at a higher price. Thusmatters went on for five or six months, Eldon supplying himself atthe store of Miller, and reconciling himself to the serious advancein price, with the reflection that Lladd's goods were remaining deadon his hands. 

At last, Miller's supply was exhausted. Eldon called, one day, andordered a dozen pieces, and received for answer--

"Not a piece in the store. "

"What? All gone?" said Eldon. 

"Yes, you got the last some days ago. "

"I'm sorry for that. Lladd has a good stock on hand, but I don'tcare about dealing with him, if I can help it. He's a crusty sort ofa fellow. Has no other house a supply?"

"Not to my knowledge. There is only a limited demand for thearticle, you know, and but few importers care about ordering it, forthe reason that it goes off slowly. "

Eldon tried several places, but couldn't find a yard. By the nextday, his workmen would be idle; and so he had no alternative but tocall upon Lladd. The merchant received him pleasantly; and theychatted for a while on matters and things in general. At last Eldon, though it went against the grain, said--

"I want you to send me twenty pieces of those goods around, with thebill. "

The merchant smiled blandly and replied--

"Sorry I can't accommodate you. But I haven't a yard in the store. "

"What?" Lladd looked blank. 

"No. I have sold off the entire lot, and concluded not to import anymore of that class of goods. "

"Ah? I supposed they were still on hand. "

"No, I placed them in the hands of Miller, and he has worked themall off for me at a considerable advance on former prices. Henotified me, a week ago, that the lot was closed out, and renderedaccount sales at twelve and a half per piece. "

Lladd said all this seemingly unconscious that every word he wasuttering fell like a blow upon his old customer. But he understoodit all very well, and had caught the hard bargain maker in a trap helittle dreamed had been laid for his feet. 

Eldon stammered out some half coherent responses, and took hisdeparture with more evidences of his discomfiture in his face andmanner than he wished to appear. He had, in fact, been paying twelvedollars and a half for the very goods he had sent back because hecouldn't get them for ten dollars, at six months credit. 

Eldon did not understand how completely he had overreached himself, until a part of his establishment had been idle for days, and he hadbeen compelled to go to New York, and purchase some fifty pieces ofthe goods he wanted, for cash, at twelve dollars per piece, a pricethat he is still compelled to pay, as neither Lladd nor any otherimporting house in the city has since ordered a case from abroad. Somuch for driving a hard bargain. 

OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN INTO THE FIRE;

OR, THE LOVE OF A HOUSE. 

"HADN'T you better give your landlord notice to-day, that we willmove at the end of the year, Mr. Plunket?"

"Move! For heaven's sake, Sarah, what do we want to move for?"

"Mr. Plunket!"

"Mrs. Plunket!"

"It's a very strange way for you to address me, Mr. Plunket. A verystrange way!"

"But for what on earth do you want to move, Sarah? Tell me that. I'msure we are comfortable enough off here. "

"Here! I wouldn't live in this miserable house another twelvemonths, if you gave me the rent free. "

"I don't see any thing so terribly bad about the house. I am wellsatisfied. "

"Are you, indeed! But I am not, I can tell you for your comfort. "

"What's the matter with the house?"

"Every thing. There isn't a comfortable or decent room in it, fromthe garret to the cellar. Not one. It's a horrid place to live in;and such a neighbourhood to bring up children in!"

"You thought it a 'love of a house' a year ago. "

"Me! Mr. Plunket, I never liked it; and it was all your fault thatwe ever took the miserable affair. "

"My fault! Bless me, Sarah, what are you talking about? I didn'twant to move from where we were. _I never want to move_. "

"Oh, no, you'd live in a pigstye for ever, if you once got there, rather than take the trouble to get out of it. "

"Mrs. Plunket!"

"Mr. Plunket!"

Wise from experience, the gentleman deemed it better to run thanfight. So, muttering to himself, he took up his hat and beat a hastyretreat. 

Mrs. Plunket had a mother, a fact of which Mr. Plunket was perfectlyaware, particularly as said relative was a member of his family. Shehappened to be present when the above spicy conversation took place. As soon as he had retired, she broke out with--"Humph! just likehim; any thing to be contrary. But I wouldn't live in this oldrattle-trap of a place another year for any man that ever steppedinto shoe-leather. No, indeed, not I. Out of repair from top tobottom; not a single convenience, so to speak; walls cracked, papersoiled, and paint yellow as a pumpkin. "

"And worse than all, ma, every closet is infested with ants andoverrun with mice. Ugh! I'm afraid to open a cupboard, or look intoa drawer. Why, yesterday, a mouse jumped upon me and came near goinginto my bosom. I almost fainted. Oh, dear! I never can live in thishouse another year; it is out of the question. I should die. "

"No one thinks of it, except Mr. Plunket, and he's always opposed toevery thing; but that's no matter. If he don't notify the landlord, we can. Live here another twelvemonth! No, indeed!"

"I saw a bill on a house in Seventh street yesterday, and I had agreat mind, then, to stop and look at it. It was a beautiful place, just what we want. "

"Put your things on, Sarah, right away, and go and see about it. Depend upon it, we can't do worse than this. "

"Worse! No, indeed, that's impossible. But Mr. Plunket!"

"Pshaw! never mind him; he's opposed to every thing. If you hadgiven him his way, where would you have been now?"

Mrs. Plunket did not reply to this, for the question brought backthe recollection of a beautiful little house, new, and perfect inevery part, from which she had forced her husband to move, becausethe parlours were not quite large enough. Never, before nor since, had they been so comfortably situated. 

Acting as well from her own inclination as from her mother's advice, Mrs. Plunket went and made an examination of the house upon whichshe had seen the bill. 

"Oh, it is such a love of a house!" she said, upon her return. "Perfect in every respect: it is larger than this, and is full ofclosets; and the rent is just the same. "

"Did you get the refusal of it?"

"Yes. I told the landlord that I would give him an answer byto-morrow morning. He says there are a great many people after it;that he could have rented it a dozen times, if he had approved thetenants who offered. He says he knows Mr. Plunket very well, andwill be happy to rent him the house. "

"We must take it, by all means. "

"That is, if Mr. Plunket is willing. "

"Willing! Of course, he'll have to be willing. "

"Oh, it is such a love of a house, ma!"

"I'm sure it must be. "

"A very different kind of an affair from this, you may be certain. "

When Mr. Plunket came home that evening, his wife said to him, quiteamiably--"Oh, you don't know what, a love of a house I saw to-day upin Seventh street; larger, better, and more convenient than this inevery way, and the rent is just the same. "

"But I am sure, Sarah, we are very comfortable here. "

"Comfortable! Good gracious, Mr. Plunket, I should like to know whatyou call comfort. How can any one be comfortable in such a miserableold rattletrap of a place as this?"

"You thought it a love of a house, you remember, before we came intoit. "

"Me? Me? Mr. Plunket? Why, I never liked it; and it was all yourfault that we ever moved here. "

"My fault?"

"Yes, indeed, it was all your fault. I wanted the house in Walnutstreet, but you were afraid of a little more rent. Oh, no, Mr. Plunket, you mustn't blame me for moving into this barracks of aplace; you have only yourself to thank for that; and now I want toget out of it on the first good opportunity. "

Poor Mr. Plunket was silenced. The very boldness of the positiontaken by his wife completely knocked him _hors du combat_. Hisfault, indeed! He would have lived on, year after year, in a logcabin, rather than encounter the horrors of moving; and yet he wasin the habit of moving about once a year. What could he do now? Hehad yielded so long to his wife, who had grown bolder at eachconcession, that opposition was now hopeless. Had she stood alone, there might have been some chance for him; but backed up, as shewas, by her puissant mother, victory was sure to perch on herbanner; and well did Mr. Plunket know this. 

"It will cost at least a hundred and fifty or two hundred dollars tomove, " he ventured to suggest. 

"Indeed, and it will cost no such thing. I'll guaranty the wholeremoval for ten dollars. "

"It cost over a hundred last year. "

"Nonsense! it didn't cost a fifth of it. "

But Mr. Plunket knew he had the best right to know, for he had paidthe bills. 

From the first, Mr. Plunket felt that opposition was useless. Anatural repugnance to change and a horror of the disorder anddiscomfort of moving caused him to make a feeble resistance; but theopposing current swept strongly against him, and he had to yield. 

The house in Seventh street was taken, and, in due time, thebreaking up and change came. Carpets were lifted, boxes, barrels, and trunks packed, and all the disorderly elements of a regularmoving operation called into activity. Every preparation had beenmade on the day previous to the contemplated flight; the cars wereto be at the door by eight o'clock on the next morning. Inanticipation of this early movement, the children had been draggedout of bed an hour before their usual time for rising. They were, inconsequence, cross and unreasonable; but not more so than mother, grandmother, and nurse, all of whom either boxed them, scolded them, or jerked them about in a most violent manner. Breakfast was servedearly; but such a breakfast! the least said about that the better. It was well there were no keen appetites to turn away withdisappointment. 

"Strange that the cars are not here!" said Mr. Plunket, who had puthimself in going order. "It's nearly half an hour past the time now. Oh, dear! confound all this moving, say I. "

"That's a strange way for you to talk before children, Mr. Plunket, "retorted his wife. 

"And this is a much stranger way for you to act, madam; for everdragging your husband and children about from post to pillar. For mypart, I feel like Noah's dove, without a place to rest the sole ofmy foot. "

"Mr. Plunket!"

"Mrs. Plunket!"

A war of words was about commencing, but the furniture-cars drove upat the moment, when an armistice took place. 

In due time, the family of the Plunkets were, bag and baggage, intheir new house. A lover of quiet, the male head of theestablishment tried to refrain from any remarks calculated to excitehis helpmate, but this was next to impossible, there being so muchin the new house that he could not, in conscience, approve. If Mrs. Plunket would have kept quiet, all might have gone on very smoothly;but Mrs. Plunket could not or would not keep quiet. She wasextravagant in her praise of every thing, and incessant in hercomparisons between the old and the new house. Mr. Plunket listened, and bit his lip to keep silent. At last the lady said to him, with acoaxing smile, for she was not going to rest until some words ofapproval were extorted from her liege lord--"Now, Mr. Plunket, don'tyou think this a love of a house?"

"No!" was the gruff answer. 

"Mr. Plunket! Why, what is your objection? I'm sure we can't be moreuncomfortable than we have been for a year. "

"Oh, yes, we can. "

"How so?"

"There is such a thing as going from the frying-pan into the fire. "

"Mr. Plunket!"

"Just what you'll find we have done, madam. "

"How will you make that appear, pray?"

"In a few words. Just step this way. Do you see that building?"

"I do. "

"Just to the south-west of us; from that quarter the cool breezes ofsummer come. We shall now have them fragrant with the delightfulexhalations of a slaughter-house. Humph! Won't that be delightful?Then, again, the house is damp. "

"Oh, no. The landlord assured me it was as dry as a bone. "

"The landlord lied, then. I've been from garret to cellar half adozen times, and it is just as I say. My eyes never deceive me. Asto its being a better or more comfortable house, that is all in myeye. I wouldn't give as much for it, by fifty dollars, as for theone we have left. "

Notwithstanding Mrs. Plunket's efforts to induce her husband topraise the house, she was not as well satisfied with it as she wasat the first inspection of the premises. 

"I'm sure, " she replied, in rather a subdued manner, "that it isquite as good as the old house, and has many advantages over it. "

"Name one, " said her husband. 

"It is not overrun with vermin. "

"Wait a while and see. "

"Oh, I know it isn't. "

"How do you know?"

"I asked the landlord particularly. "

"And he said no?"

"He did. "

"Humph! We shall see. "

And they did see. Tired but with a day's moving and fixing, thewhole family, feeling hungry, out of humour, and uncomfortable, descended to the kitchen, after it had become dark, to overhaul theprovision-baskets, and get a cold cut of some kind. But, alas! totheir dismay, it was found that another family, and that a numerousone, already had possession. Floor, dresser, and walls were alivewith a starving colony of enormous cockroaches, and the baskets, into which bread, meats, &c. Had been packed, were literallyswarming with them. 

In horror, man, woman, and child beat a hasty retreat, and left thepremises. 

It would hardly be fair to record all the sayings and doings of thateventful evening. Overwearied in body and mind, the family retiredto rest, but some of them, alas! not to sleep. From washboards andevery other part of the chamber in which a crevice existed, creptout certain little animals not always to be mentioned to earspolite, and, more bold than the denizens of the kitchen, madeimmediate demonstrations on the persons of master, mistress, child, and maid. 

It took less than a week to prove satisfactorily to Mrs. Plunket, though she did not admit the fact, that the new house was not to becompared with the old one in any respect. It had not a singleadvantage over the other, while the disadvantages were felt by everymember of the family. 

In a few months, however, Mr. Plunket began to feel at home, and tosettle down into contentment, but as he grew better and bettersatisfied, his wife grew more and more desirous of change, and isnow, as the year begins to draw to a close, looking about her forbills on houses, and examining, every day, the "to let" departmentof the newspapers with a lively degree of interest. Mr. Plunketwill, probably, resist stoutly when this lady proposes some new"love of a house, " but it will be of no use; he will have to pull upstakes and try it again. It is his destiny; he has got a movingwife, and there is no help for him. 

MARRYING A COUNT. 

"IS any body dead?"

"Yes, somebody dies every second. "

"So they say. But I don't mean that. Why are you looking so solemn?"

"I am not aware that I look so very solemn. "

"You do, then, as solemn as the grave. "

"Then I must be a grave subject. " The young man affected to smile. 

"You smile like a death's head, Abel. What is the matter?"

Abel Lee took his interrogator by the arm, and drew him aside. Whenthey were a little apart from the company, he said in a low voice--

"You know that I have taken a fancy to Arabella Jones?"

"Yes, you told me that a month ago. "

"She is here to-night. "

"So I see. "

"And is as cold to me as an icicle. "

"For a very plain reason. "

"Yes, too plain. "

"Whiskers and moustaches are driving all before them. The man isnothing now; hair is every thing. Glover will carry off the prizeunless you can hit upon some plan to win back the favour of MissArabella. You must come forward with higher attractions than thisrival can bring. "

Lee drew his fingers involuntarily over his smooth lip and chin, amovement which his friend observed and comprehended. 

"Before the hair can grow Arabella will be won, " he said. 

"Do you think I would make such a fool of myself. "

"Fool of yourself! What do you mean by that? You say you loveArabella Jones. If you wish to win her, you must make yourselfattractive in her eyes. To make yourself attractive, you have onlyto cultivate whiskers, moustaches, and an imperial, and present amore luxuriant crop than Glover. The whole matter is very simple, and comprised in a nut-shell. The only difficulty in the way is theloss of time consequent upon the raising of this hairy crop. It isplain, in fact, that you must take a shorter way; you must purchasewhat you haven't time to grow. Hide yourself for a week or two, andthen make your appearance with enough hair upon your face to concealone-half or two-thirds of your features, and your way to the heartof Miss Jones is direct. "

"I feel too serious on the subject to make it a matter of jesting, "said Lee, not by any means relishing the levity of his friend. 

"But, my dear sir, " urged the friend, "what I propose is your onlychance. Glover will have it all his own way, if you do not take somemeans to head him off. The matter is plain enough. In the days ofchivalry, a knight would do almost any unreasonable thing--enterupon almost any mad adventure--to secure the favour of hislady-love; and will you hesitate when nothing of more importancethan the donning of false whiskers and moustaches is concerned? Youdon't deserve to be thought of by Miss Jones. "

"Jest away, Marston, if it is so pleasant to you, " remarked Lee, with a slightly offended air. 

"No, but my dear fellow, I am in earnest. I really wish to serveyou. Still if the only plan at all likely to succeed is so repugnantto your feelings, you must let the whole matter go. Depend upon it, there is no other chance for you with the lady. "

"Then she must go. I would not make a fool of myself for the Queenof Sheba. A man who sacrifices his own self-respect in order tosecure the love of a woman becomes unworthy of her love. "

"Well said, Abel Lee! That is the sentiment of a right mind, andproves to me that Arabella Jones is unworthy of you. Let her go tothe whiskers, and do you try to find some one who has soul enough tolove the man. "

The young men separated, to mingle with the company. Marston couldnot help noticing Miss Arabella Jones more particularly than before, and perceived that she was coldly polite to all the young men whoventured to approach her, but warm and smiling as a June morning toan individual named Glover who had been abroad and returned homerich in hairy honours, if in nothing else. The manners of thisGlover distinguished him as much as his appearance. 

"To think that a woman could be attracted by a thing like that!" hesaid to himself a little pettishly, as he saw the alacrity withwhich Arabella seized the offered arm of Glover to accompany him tothe supper table. 

Marston was a fellow of a good deal of humour, and relishedpractical joking rather more than was consistent with the comfort ofother people. We cannot commend him for this trait of character. Butit was one of his faults, and all men have their failings. It wouldhave given him great pleasure, could he have induced Abel Lee to setup a rivalry in the moustache and whisker line; but Abel had toomuch good sense for that, and Marston, be it said to his credit, wasrejoiced to find that he had. Still, the idea having once enteredhis head, he could not drive it away. He had a most unconquerabledesire to see some one start in opposition to Glover, and was halftempted to do it himself, for the mere fun of the thing. But thiswas rather more trouble than he wished to take. 

Not very long after this, a young stranger made his appearance infashionable circles, and created quite a flutter among the ladies. He had, besides larger whiskers, larger moustache, and largerimperial than Glover, a superb goatee, and a decided foreign accent. He soon threw the American in the shade, especially as a whisper gotout that he was a French count travelling through the country, whopurposely concealed his title. The object of his visit, it was alsosaid, was the selection of a wife from among the lovely andunsophisticated daughters of America. He wished to find some one whohad never breathed the artificial air of the higher circles in hisown country; who would love him for himself alone, and become hisloving companion through life. 

How all these important facts in relation to him got wind few pausedto inquire. Young ladies forgot their plain-faced, untitled, vulgarlovers, and put on their best looks and most winning graces for thecount. For a time he carried all before him. Daily might he be seenin Chestnut street, gallanting some favoured belle, with the elegantair of a dancing-master, and the grimace of a monkey. Staid citizensstopped to look at him, and plain old ladies were half in doubtwhether he were a man or a pongo. 

At last the count's more particular attentions were directed towardMiss Arabella Jones, and from that time the favoured Glover foundthat his star had passed its zenith. It was in vain that he curledhis moustache more fiercely, and hid his chin in a goatee fully aslarge as the count's; all was of no avail. The ladies generally, andMiss Arabella in particular, looked coldly upon him. 

As for Abel Lee, the bitterness of his disappointment was alreadypast. The conduct of Arabella had disgusted him, and he thereforelooked calmly on and marked the progress of events. 

At length the count, from paying marked attention to Arabella incompany, began to visit her occasionally at her father's house, little to the satisfaction of Mr. Jones, the father, who had neverworn a whisker in his life, and had a most bitter aversion tomoustaches. This being the case, the course of Arabella's love didnot, it may be supposed, run very smooth, for her father told hervery decidedly that he was not going to have "that monkey-facedfellow" coming about his house. Shocked at such vulgar language, Arabella replied--

"Gracious me, father! Don't speak in that way of Mr. De Courci. He'sa French count, travelling in disguise. "

"A French monkey! What on earth put that nonsense into your head?"

"Everybody knows it, father. Mr. De Courci tried to conceal hisrank, but his English valet betrayed the secret. He is said to beconnected with one of the oldest families in France, and to haveimmense estates near Paris. "

"The largest estates he possesses are in Whiskerando, if you everheard of that place. A French count! Preposterous!"

"I know it to be true, " said Arabella, emphatically. 

"How do you know it, Miss Confidence?"

"I know it from the fact that I hinted to him, delicately, myknowledge of his rank abroad, and he did not deny it. His looks andhis manner betrayed what he was attempting to conceal. "

"Arabella!" said Mr. Jones, with a good deal of sternness, "if youwere silly enough to hint to this fellow what you say you did, andhe was impostor enough not to deny it on the spot in the mostunequivocal terms, then he adds the character of a designing villainto that of a senseless fop. In the name of homely American commonsense, can you not see, as plain as daylight, that he is no nearerakin to a foreign nobleman than his barber or boot-black may be?"

Arabella was silenced because it was folly to contend in this matterwith her father, who was a blunt, common-sense, clear-seeing man;but she was not in the least convinced Mr. De Courci was not aFrench count for all he might say, and, what was better, evidentlysaw attractions in her superior to those of which any of her faircompeers could boast. 

"My dear Miss Jones, " said the count, when they next met, speakingin that delightful foreign accent, so pleasant to the ear of theyoung lady, and with the frankness peculiar to his nature, "I cannotwithhold from you the honest expression of my sentiments. It wouldbe unjust to myself, and unjust to you; for those sentiments toonearly involve my own peace, and, it may be, yours. "

The count hesitated, and looked interesting. Arabella blushed andtrembled. The words, "You will speak to my father, " were on theyoung lady's tongue. But she checked herself, and remained silent. It would not do to make that reference of the subject. 

Then came a gentle pressure of hair upon her cheek, and a gentlepressure from the gloved hand in which her own was resting. 

"My dear young lady, am I understood?" Arabella answered, delicately, by returning the gentle pressure of her hand, andleaning perceptibly nearer the Count De Courci. 

"I am the happiest of men!" said the count, enthusiastically. 

"And I the happiest of women, " responded Arabella, not audibly, butin spirit. 

"Your father?" said De Courci. "Shall I see him?"

"It will not be well yet, " replied the maiden, evincing a good dealof confusion. "My father is"--

"Is what?" asked the nobleman, slightly elevating his person. 

"Is a man of some peculiar notions. Is, in fact, too rigidlyAmerican. He does not like"--

Arabella hesitated. 

"Doesn't like foreigners. Ah! I comprehend, " and the count shruggedhis shoulders and looked dignified; that is, as dignified as a manwhose face is covered with hair can look. 

"I am sorry to say that he has unfounded prejudices against everything not vulgarly American. "

"He will not consent, then?"

"I fear not, Mr. De Courci. "

"Hum-m. Ah!" and the count thought for some moments. "Will notconsent. What then? Arabella!" and he warmed in hismanner--"Arabella, shall an unfounded prejudice interpose with itsicy barriers? Shall hearts that are ready to melt into one, be keptapart by the mere word of a man? Forbid it, love! But suppose I goto him?"

"It will be useless! He is as unbending as iron. "

Such being the case, the count proposed an elopement, to whichArabella agreed, after the expression of as much reluctance asseemed to be called for. A few weeks subsequently, Mr. Jonesreceived a letter from some person unknown, advising him of the factthat if at a certain hour on that evening he would go to a certainplace, he would intercept Mr. De Courci in the act of running awaywith his daughter. This intelligence half maddened the father. Hehurried home, intending to confront Arabella with the letter he hadreceived, and then lock her up in her room. But she had gone out anhour before. Pacing the floor in a state of strong excitement, heawaited her return until the shadows of evening began to fall. Darkness closed over all things, but still she was away, and it soonbecame evident that she did not mean to come back. 

It was arranged between De Courci and Arabella that he was to waitfor her with a carriage at a retired place in the suburbs, where shewas to join him. They were then to drive to a minister's, get themarriage ceremony performed, and proceed thence to take possessionof an elegant suite of rooms which had been engaged in one of themost fashionable hotels in the city. To escape all danger ofinterference with her movements, the young lady had left home somehours before evening, and spent the time between that and theblissful period looked for with such trembling delight, in thecompany of a young friend and confidante. Darkness at length threw aveil over all things, and under cover of this veil Arabella wentforth alone, and hurried to the appointed place of meeting. A lampshowed her the carriage in waiting, and a man pacing slowly thepavement near by, while she was a considerable distance off. Herheart beat wildly, the breath came heavily up from her bosom. Shequickened her pace, but soon stopped suddenly in alarm, for she sawa man advancing rapidly from another quarter. It a few moments thisindividual came up to the person who was walking before thecarriage, and whom she saw to be her lover. Loud words instantlyfollowed, and she was near enough to hear an angry voice say--

"Ill count you, you base scoundrel!"

It was the voice of her father! Fearful lest violence should be doneto her lover, Arabella screamed and flew to the spot. Already wasthe hand of Mr. Jones at De Courci's throat, but the count indisguise, not relishing the rough grasp of the indignant father, disengaged himself and fled ingloriously, leaving poor Arabella tothe unbroken fury of his ire. Without much ceremony he thrust herinto the waiting carriage, and, giving the driver a few hurrieddirections, entered himself. What passed between the disappointedcountess, that was to be, and her excited father, it is not ourbusiness to relate. 

Not content with having interrupted this nice little matrimonialarrangement, Mr. Jones called at the hotel where De Courci put up, early on the next morning. But the elegant foreigner had notoccupied his apartments during the night. He called a few hourslater, but he had not yet made his appearance; in the morning, butDe Courci was still away. On the next morning the following noticeappeared in one of the daily newspapers:--

"NIPPED IN THE BUD. --Fashionable people will remember a whiskered, mustachioed fellow with a foreign accent, named De Courci, who hasbeen turning the heads of half the silly young girls in town for thelast two months. He permitted it to leak out, we believe, that hewas a French count, with immense estates near Paris, who had come tothis country in order to look for a wife. This was of coursebelieved, for there are people willing to credit the most improbablestories in the world. Very soon a love affair came on, and he wasabout running off with the silly daughter of a good substantialcitizen. By some means the father got wind of the matter, andrepaired to the appointed place of meeting just in time. He found DeCourci and a carriage in waiting. Without much ceremony, he laidviolent hands on the count, who thought it better to run than tofight, and therefore fled ingloriously, just as the daughter arrivedon the ground. He has not been heard of since. We could write acolumn by way of commentary upon this circumstance, but think thatthe facts in the case speak so plainly for themselves, that not asingle remark is needed to give them force. We wish the lady joy ather escape, for the count in disguise is no doubt a scheming villainat heart. "

Poor Arabella was dreadfully cut down when this notice met her eye. It was a long time before she ventured into company again, and everafter had a mortal aversion to mustaches and imperials. The countnever after made his appearance in Philadelphia. 

The young man named Marston, who had jested with Abel Lee about theloss of his lady-love, was seated in his room some ten minutes afterthe sudden appearance of Mr. Jones at the place of meeting betweenthe lovers, when his door was thrown open, and in bounded De Courci, hair and all! Cloak, hat, and hair were instantly thrown aside, anda smooth, young, laughing face revealed itself from behind whiskers, moustaches, imperials, and goatee. 

"Where's the countess?" asked Marston, in a merry voice. "Did shefaint?"

"Dear knows. That sturdy old American father of hers got me by thethroat before I could say Jack Robinson, and I was glad to make offwith a whole skin. Arabella arrived at the moment, and gave aglorious scream. Of any thing further, deponent sayeth not. "

"She'll be cured of moustaches, or I'm no prophet. "

"I guess she will. But the fact is, Marston, " and the young manlooked serious, "I'm afraid this joke has been carried too far. "

"Not at all. The moral effect will tell upon our silly young ladies, whose heads are turned with a foreign accent and a hairy lip. Youacted the whiskered fop to a charm. No one could have dreamed thatall was counterfeit. "

"So far as the general effect is concerned, I have no doubt; but I'mafraid it was wrong to victimize Miss Arabella for the benefit ofthe whole race of weak-minded girls. The effect upon her may be moreserious than we apprehend. "

"No, I think not. The woman who could pass by as true a young man asAbel Lee for a foreign count in disguise, hasn't heart enough toreceive a deep injury. She will be terribly mortified, but that willdo her good. "

"If it turn out no worse than that, I shall be glad. But I must own, now that the whole thing is over, that I am not as well satisfiedwith myself as I thought I would be. I don't know what my goodsisters at the South would say, if they knew I had been engaged insuch a mad-cap affair. But I lay all the blame upon you. You, withyour cool head, ought to have known better than to start a younghot-brained fellow like me, just let loose from college, upon such awild adventure. I'm afraid that if Jones had once got me fairly intohis clutches, he would have made daylight shine through me. "

"Ha! ha! No doubt of it. But come, don't begin to look long-faced. We will keep our own counsel, and no one need be the wiser for ourparticipation in this matter. Wait a while, and let us enjoy thenine days' wonder that will follow. "

But the young man, who was a relative of Marston, and who had cometo the city fresh from college, just in the nick of time for thelatter, felt, now that the excitement of his wild prank was over, agreat deal more sober about the matter than he had expected to feel. Reason and reflection told him that he had no right to trifle withany one as he had trifled with Arabella Jones. But it was too lateto mend the matter. No great harm, however, came of it; and perhaps, good; for a year subsequently, Abel Lee conducted his old flame tothe altar, and she makes him a loving and faithful wife. 

JOB'S COMFORTERS;

OR, THE LADY WITH NERVES. 

WHAT a blessed era in the world's history that was when the ladieshad no nerves! Alas! I was born too late instead of too early, asthe complaint of some is. I am cursed with nerves, and, as aconsequence, am ever and anon distressed with nervous fears of somedireful calamity or painful affliction. I am a simpleton for this, Iknow; but then, how can I help it? I try to be a woman of sense, butmy nerves are too delicately strung. Reason is not sufficient tosubdue the fears of impending evil that too often haunt me. 

It would not be so bad with me, if I did not find so many good soulsready to add fuel to the flames of my fears. One of my most horribleapprehensions, since I have been old enough to think about it, hasbeen of that dreadful disease, cancer. I am sure I shall die ofit, --or, if not, some time in life have to endure a frightfuloperation for its removal. 

I have had a dull, and sometimes an acute pain in one of my breasts, for some years. I am sure it is a cancer forming, though my husbandalways ridicules my fears. A few days ago a lady called in to seeme. The pain had been troubling me, and I felt nervous anddepressed. 

"You don't look well, " said my visitor. 

"I am not very well, " I replied. 

"Nothing serious, I hope?"

"I am afraid there is, Mrs. A--" I looked gloomy, I suppose, for Ifelt so. 

"You really alarm me. What can be the matter?"

"I don't know that I have ever mentioned it to you, but I have, fora long time, had a pain in my left breast, where I once had agathering, and in which hard lumps have ever since remained. Thesehave increased in size, of late, and I am now confirmed in my fearsthat a cancer is forming. "

"Bless me!" And my visitor lifted both hands and eyes. "What kind ofa pain is it?"

"A dull, aching pain, with occasional stitches running out from onespot, as if roots were forming. "

"Just the very kind of pain that Mrs. N--had for some monthsbefore the doctors pronounced her affection cancer. You know Mrs. N--?"

"Not personally. I have heard of her. "

"You know she had one of her breasts taken off?"

"Had she?" I asked, in a husky voice. I had horrible feelings. 

"Oh, yes!" My visitor spoke with animation. 

"She had an operation performed about six months ago. It wasdreadful! Poor soul!"

My blood fairly curdled; but my visitor did not notice the effect ofher words. 

"How long did the operation last?" I ventured to inquire. 

"Half an hour. "

"Half an hour! So long?"

"Yes; it was a full half hour from the time the first incision wasmade until the last little artery was taken up. "

"Horrible! horrible!" I ejaculated, closing my eyes, and shuddering. 

"If so horrible to think of, what must it be in reality?" said mythoughtless visitor. "If it were my case, I would prefer death. ButMrs. N--is not an ordinary woman. She possesses unusual fortitude, and would brave any thing for the sake of her husband and children. It took even her, however, a long time to make up her mind to havethe operation performed; and it was only when she was satisfied thatfurther delay would endanger her life, that she consented to have itdone. I saw her just the day before; she looked exceedingly pale, and said but little. A very intimate friend was with her, whom I wassurprised to hear talk to her in the liveliest manner, upon subjectsof the most ordinary interest. She was relating a very amusing storywhich she had read; when I entered, and was laughing at theincidents. Even Mrs. N--smiled. It seemed to me very much out ofplace, and really a mockery to the poor creature; it was downrightcruel. How any one could do so I cannot imagine. 'My dear madam, ' Isaid as soon as I could get a chance to speak to her, 'how do youfeel? I am grieved to death at the dreadful operation you will haveto go through. But you must bear it bravely; it will soon be over. 'She thanked me with tears in her eyes for my kind sympathies, andsaid that she hoped she would be sustained through the severe trial. Before I could get a chance to reply, her friend broke in with somenonsensical stuff that made poor Mrs. N--laugh in spite ofherself, even though the tears were glistening on her eyelashes. Ifelt really shocked. And then she ran on in the wildest strain youever heard, turning even the most serious remark I could make intofun. And, would you believe it? she treated with levity theoperation itself whenever I alluded to it, and said that it wasnothing to fear--a little smarting and a little pain, but not so badas a bad toothache, she would wager a dollar. 

"'That is all very well for you to say, ' I replied, my feelings ofindignation almost boiling over, 'but if you had the operation tobear, you would find it a good deal worse than a bad toothache, orthe severest pain you ever suffered in your life. '

"Even this was turned into sport. I never saw such a woman. Ibelieve she would have laughed in a cholera hospital. I left, assuring Mrs. N--of my deepest sympathies, and urged her to nerveherself for the sad trial to which she was so soon to be subjected. I was not present when the operation was performed, but one whoattended all through the fearful scene gave me a minute descriptionof every thing that occurred. "

The thought of hearing the details of a dreadful operation made mesick at heart, and yet I felt a morbid desire to know all about it. I could not ask my visitor to pause; and yet I dreaded to hear herutter another sentence. Such was the strange disorder of myfeelings! But it mattered not what process of thought was going onin my mind, or what was the state of my feelings; my visitor wentsteadily on with her story, while every fifth word added a beat tomy pulse per minute. 

The effect of this detail was to increase all the cancerous symptomsin my breast, or to cause me to imagine that they were increased. When my husband came home, I was in a sad state of nervousexcitement. He anxiously inquired the cause. 

"My breast feels much worse than it has felt for a long time, " saidI. "I am sure a cancer is forming. I have all the symptoms. "

"Do you know the symptoms?" he asked. 

"Mrs. N--had a cancer in her breast, and my symptoms all resemblehers. "

"How do you know?"

"Mrs. A--has been here, and she is quite intimate with Mrs. N--. All my symptoms, she says, are precisely like hers. "

"I wish Mrs. A--was in the deserts of Arabia!" said my husband, ina passion. "Even if what she said were true, what business had sheto say it? Harm, not good, could come of it. But I don't believe youhave any more cancer in your breast than I have. There is anobstruction and hardening of the glands, and that is about all. "

"But Mrs. N--'s breast was just like mine, for Mrs. A--says so. She described the feeling Mrs. N--had, and mine is precisely likeit. "

"Mrs. A--neither felt the peculiar sensation in Mrs. N--'s breastnor in yours; and, therefore, cannot know that they are alike. Sheis an idle, croaking gossip, and I wish she would never cross ourthreshold. She always does harm. "

I felt that she had done me harm, but I wouldn't say so. I was agood deal vexed at the way my husband treated the matter, andaccused him of indifference as to whether I had a cancer or not. Hebore the accusation very patiently, as, indeed, he always does anyof my sudden ebullitions of feeling. He knows my weakness. 

"If I thought there were danger, " he mildly said, "I would be asmuch troubled as you are. "

"As to danger, that is imminent enough, " I returned, fretfully. 

"On the contrary, I am satisfied that there is none. One of yoursymptoms makes this perfectly clear. "

"Indeed! What symptom?" I eagerly asked. 

"Your terrible fears of a cancer are an almost certain sign that youwill never have one. The evil we most fear, rarely, if ever, fallsupon us. "

"That is a very strange way to talk, " I replied. 

"But a true way, nevertheless, " said my husband. 

"I can see no reason in it. Why should we be troubled to death abouta thing that is never going to happen?"

"The trouble is bad enough, without the reality, I suppose. We areall doomed to have a certain amount of anxiety and trouble here, whether real or imaginary. Some have the reality, and others theimagination. Either is bad enough; I don't know which is worse. "

"I shall certainly be content to have the imaginary part, " Ireplied. 

"That part you certainly have, and your full share of it. I believeyou have, at some period or other, suffered every ill that flesh isheir to. As for me, I would rather have a good hearty fit ofsickness, a broken leg or arm, or even a cancer, and be done withit, than become a living Pandora's box, even in imagination. "

"As you think I am?"

"As I know you are. "

"Then you would really like to see me have a cancer in my breast, and be done with it?" I said this pretty sharply. 

"Don't look so fiercely at me, " returned my husband, smiling. "Ididn't say I would rather you would have a cancer; I said I wouldrather have one, and be done with it, than suffer as you do from thefear of it, and a hundred other evils. "

"I must say you are quite complimentary to your wife, " I returned, in a little better humour than I had yet spoken. The fact was, mymind took hold of what my husband said about real and imaginaryevils, and was somewhat braced up. Of imaginary evils I hadcertainly had enough to entitle me to a whole lifetime exemptionfrom real ones. 

From the time Mrs. A--left me until my husband came in, the painin my breast had steadily increased, accompanied by a burning andstinging sensation. In imagination, I could clearly feel the entirecancerous nucleus, and perceive the roots eating their way in alldirections around it. This feeling, when I now directed my thoughtsto my breast, was gone--very little pain remained. 

After tea, my husband went out and returned in about an hour. Hesaid he had been round to consult with our physician, who assuredhim that he had seen hundreds of cases like mine, not one of whichterminated in cancer; that such glandular obstructions were common, and might, under certain circumstances, unless great care were used, cause inflammation and suppuration; but were no more productive ofcancer, a very rare disease, and consequent upon hereditarytendencies, than were any of the glandular obstructions orgatherings in other parts of the body. 

"But the breast is so tender a place, " I said. 

"And yet, " returned my husband, "the annals of surgery show tencancers in other parts of the body to one in the breast. "

In this way my husband dissipated my fears, and restored my mind toa comparatively healthy state. This, however, did not long remain; Iwas attacked on the next day with a dull, deeply-seated pain in oneof my jaw-teeth. At first, I did not regard it much, but its longercontinuance than usual began to excite my fears, especially as thetooth was, to all appearance, sound. 

While suffering from this attack, I had a visit from another friendof the same class with Mrs. A--. She was a kind, good-naturedsoul, and would watch by your sick-bed untiringly, night afternight, and do it with real pleasure. But she had, like Mrs. A--, avery thoughtless habit of relating the many direful afflictions andscenes of human suffering it had been her lot to witness and hearof, unconscious that she often did great harm thereby, particularlywhen these things were done, as was too often the case, _apropos_. 

"You are not well, " she said, when she came in and saw theexpression of pain in my face. 

"What is the matter?"

"Nothing more than a very troublesome tooth-ache, " I replied. 

"Use a little kreosote, " said she. 

"I would; but the tooth is sound. "

"A sound tooth, is it?" My visitor's tone and look made my heartbeat quicker. 

"Yes, it is perfectly sound. "

"I am always afraid of an aching tooth that is perfectly sound, since poor Mrs. P--had such a time with her jaw. "

"What was that?" I asked, feeling instantly alarmed. 

"Which tooth is it that aches?" my friend asked. 

I pointed it out. 

"The very same one that troubled Mrs. P--for several months, nightand day. "

"Was the pain low and throbbing?" I eagerly asked. 

"Yes; that was exactly the kind of pain she had. "

"And did it continue so long as several months?"

"Oh, yes. But that wasn't the worst! the aching was caused by theformation of an abscess. "

"A what?" A cold chill passed over me. 

"An abscess. "

"At the root of her tooth?"

"Yes. But that wasn't so bad as its consequences; the abscess causedthe bone to decay, and produced what the doctors called a disease ofthe antrum, which extended until the bone was eaten clear through, so that the abscess discharged itself by the nostrils. "

"Oh, horrible!" I exclaimed, feeling as sick as death, while thepain in my tooth was increased fourfold. "How long did you say thisabscess was in forming?"

"Some months. "

"Did she have an operation performed?" I have a terrible fear ofoperations. 

"Oh, yes. It was the only thing that saved her life. They scrapedall the flesh away on one cheek and then cut a hole through thebone. This was after the tooth had been drawn, in doing which thejaw-bone was broken dreadfully. It was months before it healed, orbefore she could eat with any thing but a spoon. "

This completely unmanned, or, rather, unwomanned me. I asked no morequestions, although my visitor continued to give me a good deal ofminute information on the subject of abscesses, and the dreadfulconsequences that too frequently attended them. After she leftanother friend called, to whom I mentioned the fact of having a verybad tooth-ache, and asked her if she had ever known any one to havean abscess at the root of a sound tooth. 

She replied that tooth-ache from that cause was not unfrequent, andthat, sometimes, very bad consequences resulted from it. She advisedme, by all means, to have the tooth extracted. 

"I can't bear the thought of that, " I replied. "I never had but onetooth drawn, and when I think of having another extracted I growcold all over. "

"Still, that is much better than having caries of the jaw, which hasbeen known to attend an abscess at the root of a tooth. "

"But this does not always follow?"

"No. It is of rare occurrence, I believe. Though no one knows whensuch a disease exists, nor where it is going to terminate. Evenapart from caries of the jaw, the thing is painful enough. Mrs. T--, an intimate friend of mine, suffered for nearly a mouth, night and day, and finally had to have the tooth extracted, when hermouth was so much inflamed, and so tender, that the slightest touchcaused the most exquisite pain. A tumor was found at the root of thetooth as large as a pigeon's egg!"

This completed the entire overthrow of my nerves. I begged myfriend, in mercy to spare me any further relations of this kind. Sheseemed half offended, and I had to explain the state of mind whichhad been produced by what a former visitor had said. She, evidently, thought me a very weak woman. No doubt I am. 

"In the dumps again, Kate?" said my husband, when he returned homein the evening. "What is the matter now?"

"Enough to put you or any one else in the dumps, " I repliedfretfully. "This tooth-ache grows worse, instead of better. "

"Does it, indeed? I am really very sorry. Can't any thing be done torelieve you?"

"Nothing, I am persuaded. The tooth is sound, and there must be anabscess forming at the root, to occasion so much pain. "

"Who, in the name of common sense, has put this in your head?"

My husband was worried. 

"Has Mrs. A--been here again?"

"No, " was my simple response. 

"Then what has conjured up this bugbear to frighten you out of yourseven senses?"

I didn't like this language at all. My husband seemed captious andunreasonable. Dear soul! I supposed he had cause; for they say anervous woman is enough to worry a man's life out of him; and, dearknows, I am nervous enough! But I had only my fears before me then:I saw that my husband did not sympathize with me in the least. Imerely replied--

"It may be very well for you to speak to your wife in this way, after she has suffered for nearly three days with a wretchedtooth-ache. If the tooth were at all decayed, or there were anyapparent cause for the pain, I could bear it well enough, andwouldn't trouble you about it. But it is so clear to my mind now, that nothing but a tumour forming at the root could produce such asteady, deep-seated, throbbing pain, that I am with reason alarmed;and, instead of sympathy from my husband I am met with somethingvery much like ridicule. "

"My dear Kate, " said my husband, tenderly, and in a serious voice, "pardon my apparent harshness and indifference. If you are really soserious about the matter, it may be as well to consult a dentist, and get his advice. He may be able to relieve very greatly yourfears, if not the pain in your jaw. "

"He will order the tooth to be extracted, I have not the leastdoubt. "

"If there should be a tumour at the root, it will be much safer tohave it out than let it remain. "

A visit to the dentist at once was so strenuously urged by myhusband, that I couldn't refuse to go. I got myself ready, and wewent around before tea. I did not leave the house, however, beforemaking my husband promise he would not insist upon my having thetooth taken out on the first visit. This he did readily. 

The dentist, after examining very carefully the tooth pointed out tohim, said that he didn't believe that tooth ached at all. 

"Not ache, doctor?" said I, a little indignantly. 

"If you had it in your head, you would think it ached. "

"Pardon me, madam, " he returned, with a polite bow. "I did not meanto say that you were not in pain. I only mean to say that I thinkthat you are mistaken in its exact locality. "

"I don't see how I can be. I have had it long enough, I shouldthink, to determine its locality with some certainty. "

"Let me examine your mouth again, madam, " said the dentist. 

This time he examined the right jaw--the pain was on the left side. 

"I think I have found out the enemy, " said he, as he took theinstrument from my mouth with which he had been sounding my teeth. "The corresponding tooth on the other side has commenced decaying, and the nerve is already slightly exposed. "

"But what has that to do with this side?" I put my hand where thepain was, as I spoke. 

"It may have a good deal to do with it. We shall soon see. " And hewent to his case of instruments. 

"You are not going to extract it, doctor!" I rose from the operatingchair in alarm. 

"Oh no, no, madam! I am only going to put something into it, todestroy the sensibility of the nerve, previous to preparing it forbeing filled. The tooth can still be preserved. We will know in aminute or two whether all the difficulty lies here. "

A preparation, in which I could perceive the taste and odour ofcreosote, was inserted in the cavity of the decayed tooth. In lessthan five seconds I was free from pain. 

"I thought that was it, " said the dentist, smiling. "A sound toothis not very apt to ache of itself. It is sometimes difficult to tellwhich is the troublesome member. But we have discovered theoffending one this time, and will put an end to the disturbance hehas been creating. "

I could say not a word. My husband looked at me with a humorousexpression in his eye. After we were in the street, he remarked, pleasantly--

"No abscess yet, my dear. Were it not for physicians, who understandtheir business, I am afraid your Job's comforters would soon haveyou imagine yourself dying, and keep up the illusion until youactually gave up the ghost. "

"I really am ashamed of myself, " I replied; "but you know howshattered my nerves are, and how little a thing it takes to unsettleme. I do wish my Job's comforters, as you call them, would have morediscretion than to talk to me as they do. "

"Let them talk; you know it is all talk. "

"No--not all talk. They relate real cases of disease and suffering, and I immediately imagine that I have all the symptoms thatultimately lead to the same sad results. "

"Be a woman, Kate! be a woman, " responded my husband. 

This was all very well, and all easily said. I believe, however, Iam a woman, but a woman of the nineteenth century, with nerves fartoo delicately strung. Ah me! if some of my kind friends would onlybe a little more thoughtful, they would save me many a wretched day. I hope this will meet the eyes of some of them, and that they willread it to a little profit. It may save others, if it does not saveme from a repetition of such things as I have described. 

THE CODE OF HONOUR. 

TWO young men, one with a leather cap on his head and militarybuttons on his coat, sat in close conversation, long years ago, inthe bar-room of the--Hotel. The subject that occupied theirattention seemed to be a very exciting one, at least to him of themilitary buttons and black cap, for he emphasized strongly, knit hisbrow awfully, and at last went so far as to swear a terrible oath. 

"Don't permit yourself to get so excited, Tom, " interposed a friend. "It won't help the matter at all. "

"But I've got no patience. "

"Then it is time you had some, " coolly returned the friend. "If youintend pushing your way into the good graces of my lady MaryClinton, you must do something more than fume about the littlematter of rivalry that has sprung up. "

"Yes; but to think of a poor milk-sop of anauthor--author?--pah!--scribbler!--to think, I say, of a spiritlesscreature like Blake thrusting himself between me and such a girl asMary Clinton; and worse, gaining her notice, is too bad! He hassonneteered her eyebrows, no doubt--flattered her in verse until shedon't know who or where she is, and in this way become a formidablerival. But I won't bear it--I'll--ll"--

"What will you do?"

"Do? I'll--I'll wing him! that's what I'll do. I'll challenge thepuppy and shoot him. "

And the young lieutenant, for such he was, flourished his right armand looked pistol-balls and death. 

"But he won't fight, Tom. "

"Won't he?" and the lieutenant's face brightened. "Then I'll posthim for a coward; that'll finish him. All women hate cowards. I'llpost him--yes, and cowhide him in the bargain, if necessary. "

"Posting will do, " half sarcastically replied his friend. "But uponwhat pretext will you challenge him?"

"I'll make one. I'll insult him the first time I meet him and then, if he says any thing, challenge and shoot him. "

"That would be quite gentlemanly, quite according to the code ofhonour, " returned the friend, quietly. 

The young military gentleman we have introduced was named Redmond. The reader has already penetrated his character. In person he wasquite good-looking, though not the Adonis he deemed himself. He hadfallen deeply in love with the "acres of charms" possessed by acertain Miss Clinton, and was making rapid inroad upon her heart--atleast he thought so--when a young man well known in the literarycircles made his appearance, and was received with a degree offavour that confounded the officer, who had already begun to thinkhimself sure of the prize. Blake had a much readier tongue and agreat deal more in his head than the other, and could therefore, inthe matter of mind at least, appear to much better advantage thanhis rival. He had also written and published one or two popularworks; this gave him a standing as an author. Take him all in all, he was a rival to be feared, and Redmond was not long in making thediscovery. What was to be done? A military man must not be put downor beaten off by a mere civilian. The rival must be gotten rid of insome manner; the professional means was, as has been seen thought offirst. Blake must be challenged and killed off, and then the coursewould be clear. 

A few days after this brave and honourable determination, theofficer met the author in a public place, and purposely jostled himrudely. Blake said nothing, thinking it possible that it was anaccident; but he remained near Redmond, to give him a chance torepeat the insult, if such had been his intention. It was not longbefore the author was again jostled in a still ruder manner thanbefore at the same time some offensive word was muttered by theofficer. This was in the presence of a number of respectablepersons, who could not help hearing, seeing, and understanding all. Satisfied that an insult was intended, Blake looked him in the facefor a moment, and then asked, loud enough to be heard allaround--"Did you intend to jostle me?"

"I did, " was the angry retort. 

"_Gentlemen_ never do such things. "

As Blake said this with marked emphasis, he looked steadily into theofficer's face. 

"You'll hear from me, sir. " And as the officer said this, menacingly, he turned and walked away with a military air. 

"There's trouble for you now, Blake; he'll challenge you, " said twoor three friends who instantly gathered around him. 

"Do you think so?"

"Certainly; he is an officer--fighting is his trade. "

"Well, let him. "

"What'll you do?"

"Accept the challenge, of course. "

"And fight?"

"Certainly. "

"He'll shoot you. "

"I'm not afraid. "

Blake returned with his friend to his lodgings, where he found abillet already from Redmond, who was all eagerness to wing hisrival. 

On the next morning, two friends of the bellige-rents were closetedfor the purpose of arranging the preliminaries for the fight. 

"The weapon?" asked the friend of the military man. "Your principal, by the laws of honour, has the choice; as, also, to name time andplace, &c. "

"Yes, I understand. All is settled. "

"He will fight, then?"

"Fight? Oh, certainly; Blake is no coward. "

"Well, then, name the weapons. "

"A pair of goose-quills. "

"Sir!" in profound astonishment. 

"The weapons are to be a pair of good Russia quills, opaque, manufactured into pens of approved quality. The place of meeting, the--mdash; Gazette; the time, to-morrow morning, bright and early. "

"Do you mean to insult me?"

"By no means. "

"You cannot be serious. "

"Never was more serious in my life. By the code of honour, thechallenged party has the right to choose weapons, place of meeting, and time. Is it not so?"

"Certainly. "

"Very well. Your principal has challenged mine. All these rights areof course his; and he is justified in choosing those weapons withwhich he is most familiar. The weapon he can use best is the pen, and he chooses that. If Lieut. Redmond had been the challengedparty, he would, of course, have named pistols, with which he isfamiliar, and Mr. Blake would have been called a coward, poltroon, or something as bad, if, after sending a challenge, he had objectedto the weapons. Will your principal find himself in a differentposition if he decline this meeting on like grounds? I think not. Pens are as good as pistols at any time, and will do as much. "

"Fighting with pens! Preposterous!"

"Not quite so preposterous as you may think. Mr. B. Has more thaninsinuated that Mr. Redmond is no gentleman. For this he ischallenged to a single combat that is to prove him to be a gentlemanor not one. Surely the most sensible weapon with which to do this isthe pen. Pistols won't demonstrate the matter; only the pen can doit, so the pen is chosen. In the--Gazette of to-morrow morning myfriend stands ready to prove that he is a gentleman; and your friendthat he is one, and that a gentleman has a right to insult publiclyand without provocation whomsoever he pleases. Depend upon it, youwill find this quite as serious an affair as if pistols were used. "

"I did not come here, sir, to be trifled with. "

"No trifling in the matter at all; I am in sober earnest. Pens arethe weapons; the--Gazette, the battle-ground; time, early as youplease to-morrow morning. Are you prepared for the meeting?"

"No. "

"Do you understand the consequences?"

"What consequences?"

"Your principal will be posted as a coward before night. "

"Are you mad?"

"No, cool and earnest. We fully understand what we are about. "

The officer's second was nonplussed; he did not know what to say orthink. He was unprepared for such a position of affairs. 

"I'll see you in the course of an hour, " he at length said, rising. 

"Very well; you will find me here. "

"Is all settled?" asked the valiant lieutenant, as his second cameinto his room at the hotel, where he was pacing the floor. 

"Settled? No; nor likely to be. I objected to the weapons, and, indeed, the whole proposed arrangement. "

"Objected to the weapons! And, pray, what did he name? Ablunderbuss?"

"No; nor a duck gun, with trumpet muzzle; but an infernal pen!"

"A what?"

"Why, curse the fellow, a pen! You are to use pens--the place ofmeeting, the--Gazette--time, to-morrow morning. He is to prove youare no gentleman, and you are to prove you are one, and that agentleman is at all times privileged to insult whomsoever he pleaseswithout provocation. "

"He's a cowardly fool!"

"If his terms are not accepted, he threatens to post you for acoward before night. "

"What?"

"You must accept or be posted. Think of that!"

The precise terms in which the principal swore, and the manner inwhich he fumed for the next five minutes, need not be told. He wascalled back to more sober feelings by the question--"Do you acceptthe terms of the meeting?"

"No, of course not; the fellow's a fool. "

"Then you consent to be posted. How will that sound?"

"I'll cut off the rascal's ears if he dare do such a thing. "

"That won't secure Mary Clinton, the cause of this contest. "

"Hang it, no!"

"With pens for weapons he will wing you a little too quick. "

"No doubt. But the public won't bear him out such an outrage--such aviolation of all the rules of honour. "

"By the code of honour, the challenged party has the right to choosethe weapons, &c. "

"I know. "

"And you are afraid to meet the man you have challenged upon theterms he proposes. That is all plain and simple enough. The worldwill understand it all. "

"But what is to be done?"

"You must fight, apologize, or be posted; there is no alternative. To be posted won't do; the laugh would be too strongly against you. "

"It will be as bad, and even worse, to fight as he proposes. "

"True. What then?"

"It must be made up somehow or other. "

"So I think. Will you write an apology?"

"I don't know; that's too humiliating. "

"It's the least of the three evils. "

So, at last, thought the valiant Lieut. Redmond. When the secondsagain met, it was to arrange a settlement of differences. This couldonly be done by a very humbly written apology, which was made. Onthe next day the young officer left the city, a little wiser than hecame. Blake and his second said but little about the matter. A fewchoice friends were let into the secret, which afforded many ahearty laugh. Among these friends was Mary Clinton, who not longafter gave her heart and hand to the redoubtable author. 

As for the lieutenant, he declares that he had as lief come incontact with a Paixhan gun as an author with his "infernal pen. " Heunderstands pistols, small swords, rifles, and even cannons, but hecan't stand up when pen-work is the order of the day. The odds wouldbe too much against him. 

TREATING A CASE ACTIVELY. 

A PHYSICIAN'S STORY. 

I WAS once sent for, in great haste, to attend a gentleman ofrespectability, whose wife, a lady of intelligence and refinement, had discovered him in his room lying senseless upon the floor. Onarriving at the house, I found Mrs. H-- in great distress of mind. 

"What is the matter with Mr. H--?" I asked, on meeting his lady, who was in tears and looking the picture of distress. 

"I'm afraid it is apoplexy, " she replied. "I found him lying uponthe floor, where he had, to all appearance, fallen suddenly from hischair. His face is purple, and though he breathes, it is with greatdifficulty. "

I went up to see my patient. He had been lifted from the floor, andwas now lying upon the bed. Sure enough, his face was purple and hisbreathing laboured, but somehow the symptoms did not indicateapoplexy. Every vein in his head and face was turgid, and he layperfectly stupid, but still I saw no clear indications of an actualor approaching congestion of the brain. 

"Hadn't he better be bled, doctor?" asked the anxious wife. 

"I don't know that it is necessary, " I replied. "I think, if we lethim alone, it will pass off in the course of a few hours. "

"A few hours! He may die in half an hour. "

"I don't think the case is so dangerous, madam. "

"Apoplexy not dangerous?"

"I hardly think it apoplexy, " I replied. 

"Pray, what do you think it is, doctor?"

Mrs. H-- looked anxiously into my face. 

I delicately hinted that he might, possibly, have been drinking toomuch brandy; but to this she positively and almost indignantlyobjected. 

"No, doctor; _I_ ought to know about that, " she said. "Depend uponit, the disease is more deeply seated. I am sure he had better bebled. Won't you bleed him, doctor? A few ounces of blood taken fromhis arm may give life to the now stagnant circulation of the bloodin his veins. "

Thus urged, I, after some reflection, ordered a bowl and bandage, and opening a vein, from which the blood flowed freely, relieved himof about eight ounces of his circulating medium. But he still lay asinsensible as before, much to the distress of his poor wife. 

"Something else must be done, doctor, " she urged, seeing thatbleeding had accomplished nothing. "If my husband is not quicklyrelieved, he must die. "

By this time, several friends and relatives, who had been sent for, arrived, and urged upon me the adoption of some more active meansfor restoring the sick man to consciousness. One proposed mustardplasters all over his body; another a blister on the head; anotherhis immersion in hot water. I suggested that it might be well to usea stomach-pump. 

"Why, doctor?" asked one of the friends. 

"Perhaps he has taken some drug, " I replied. 

"Impossible, doctor, " said the wife. "He has not been from hometo-day, and there is no drug of any kind in the house. "

"No brandy?" I ventured this suggestion again. 

"No, doctor, no spirits of any kind, nor even wine, in the house, "returned Mrs. H--, in an offended tone. 

I was not the regular family physician, and had been called in tomeet the alarming emergency, because my office happened to benearest to the dwelling of Mr. H--. Feeling my position to be adifficult one, I suggested that the family physician had better becalled. 

"But the delay, doctor, " urged the friends. "No harm will resultfrom it, be assured, " I replied. 

But my words did not assure them. However, as I was firm in myresolution not to do any thing more for the patient until Dr. S-- came, they had to submit. I wished to make a call of importancein the neighbourhood, and proposed going, to be back by the time Dr. S-- arrived; but the friends of the sick man would not suffer me toleave the room. 

When Dr. S-- came, we conversed aside for a few minutes, and I gavehim my views of the case, and stated what I had done and why I haddone it. We then proceeded to the bedside of our patient; there werestill no signs of approaching consciousness. 

"Don't you think his head ought to be shaved and blistered?" askedthe wife, anxiously. Dr. S-- thought a moment, and then said--"Yes, by all means. Send for a barber; and also for a fresh fly-blister, four inches by nine. "

I looked into the face of Dr. S-- with surprise; it was perfectlygrave and earnest. I hinted to him my doubt of the good that mode oftreatment would do; but he spoke confidently of the result, and saidthat it would not only cure the disease, but, he believed, take awaythe predisposition thereto, with which Mr. H-- was affected in ahigh degree. 

The barber came. The head of H-- was shaved, and Dr. S-- appliedthe blister with his own hands, which completely covered the scalpfrom forehead to occiput. 

"Let it remain on for two hours, and then make use of the ordinarydressing, " said Dr. S--. "If he should not recover during theaction of the blister, don't feel uneasy; sensibility will berestored soon after. "

I did not call again, but I heard from Dr. S-- the result. 

After we left, the friends stood anxiously around the bed upon whichthe sick man lay; but though the blister began to draw, no signs ofreturning consciousness showed themselves, further than anoccasional low moan, or an uneasy tossing of the arms. For full twohours the burning plaster parched the tender skin of H--'s shornhead, and was then removed; it had done good service. Dressings werethen applied; repeated and repeated again; but still the sick manlay in a deep stupor. 

"It has done no good; hadn't we better send for the doctor?"suggested the wife. 

Just then the eyes of H-- opened, and he looked with half-stupidsurprise from face to face of the anxious group that surrounded thebed. 

"What in the mischief's the matter?" he at length said. At the sametime, feeling a strange sensation about his head, he placed his handrather heavily thereon. 

"Heavens and earth!" He was now fully in his senses. "Heavens andearth! what ails my head?"

"For mercy's sake, keep quiet, " said the wife, the glad tearsgushing over her face. "You have been very ill; there, there, now!"And she spoke soothingly. "Don't say a word, but lie very still. "

"But my head! What's the matter with my head? It feels as ifscalded. Where's my hair? Heavens and earth! Sarah, I don'tunderstand this. And my arm? What's my arm tied up in this way for?"

"Be quiet, my dear husband, and I'll explain it all. Oh, be veryquiet; your life depends upon it. " Mr. H-- sank back upon thepillow from which he had arisen, and closed his eyes to think. Heput his hand to his head, and felt it, tenderly, all over, fromtemple to temple, and from nape to forehead. 

"Is it a blister?" he at length asked. 

"Yes, dear. You have been very ill; we feared for your life, " saidMrs. H--, affectionately; "there have been two physicians inattendance. "

H-- closed his eyes again; his lips moved. Those nearest were notmuch edified by the whispered words that issued therefrom. Theywould have sounded very strangely in a church, or to ears polite andrefined. After this, he lay for some time quiet. 

"Threatened with apoplexy, I suppose?" he then said, interrogatively. 

"Yes, dear, " replied his wife. "I found you lying insensible uponthe floor, on happening to come into your room. It was mostprovidential that I discovered you when I did, or you wouldcertainly have died. "

H-- shut his eyes and muttered something, with an air ofimpatience; but its meaning was not understood. Finding him out ofdanger, friends and relatives retired, and the sick man was leftalone with his family. 

"Sarah, " he said, "why, in the name of goodness, did you permit thedoctors to butcher me in this way? I'm laid up for a week or two, and all for nothing. "

"It was to save your life, dear. "

"Save the--!"

"H-u-s-h! There! do, for mercy's sake, be quiet; every thing dependsupon it. "

With a gesture of impatience, H-- shut his eyes, teeth, and hands, and lay perfectly still for some minutes. Then he turned his face tothe wall, muttering in a low, petulant voice--"Too bad! too bad! toobad!"

I had not erred in my first and my last impressions of H--'sdisease, neither had Dr. S-- although he used a very extraordinarymode of treatment. The facts of the case were these:

H-- had a weakness; he could not taste wine nor strong drinkwithout being tempted into excess. Both himself and friends weremortified and grieved at this; and they, by admonition, and he, bygood resolutions, tried to bring about a reform; but to see was totaste, to taste was to fall. At last, his friends urged him to shuthimself up at home for a certain time, and see if total abstinencewould not give him strength. He got on pretty well for a few days, particularly so, as his coachman kept a well-filled bottle for himin the carriage-house, to which he not unfrequently resorted; but atoo ardent devotion to this bottle brought on the supposed apoplexy. 

Dr. S-- was right in his mode of treating the disease after all, and did not err in supposing that it would reach the predisposition. The cure was effectual. H-- kept quiet on the subject, and bore hisshaved head upon his shoulders with as much philosophy as he couldmuster. A wig, after the sores made by the blister had disappeared, concealed the barber's work until his own hair grew again. He neverventured upon wine or brandy again for fear of apoplexy. 

When the truth leaked out, as leak out such things always will, thefriends of H-- had many a hearty laugh; but they wisely concealedfrom the object of their merriment the fact that they knew any thingmore than appeared of the cause of his supposed illness. 

THE END.