I returned to the town vexed and chagrined. It was just growing dusk. All at once Barrault was at my side; he saluted me and wished me good evening. I kept my pockets close, and gave him a very short answer. I saw nothing but murder and robbery in every corner; thought a good deal about the police, and whether or no I should give the scoundrel beside me into custody. "You breathe very hard," said I to Mussyer. "Yes," returned he, "I have been footing it rather fast. I was just falling headlong into the clutches of some one who ought not to know that I am here."

"Monsieur Durand, no doubt," said I indiscreetly. He darted at me a side glance like lightning. "Do you know Monsieur Durand? How do you?"

We were standing close to the Café, and knowing that Durand was soon to be there, I artfully said to Barrault, "Come in here with me and I will tell you all | about it." But he must have smelt a rat, for he snappishly replied, "I have my reasons for not entering this house. Another time perhaps ;" and so saying he went

off.

"Wait awhile, wait awhile," grumbled I; "a time of reckoning will come yet," and so saying I went in. Every one knows how people keep appointments. From my earliest boyhood I have always been fool enough to be punctually at the place of rendezvous, and yet ninetynine times out of a hundred I have been the silly dupe of my friends, and have had to wait for them in vain. This was just the case then in Basle. Where was the smallest trace to be found of my friend and correspondent, or the faintest shadow of M. Police-Secretary Durand? Among all the wet wrappers and ferociouslooking beards, with which the Café National was swarming, I could neither discover the fair smooth face of the man of Basle, nor the trim surtout of my Parisian. At first I was patient; but quarter of an hour after quarter of an hour dribbled away, and my patience was burning away as fast as the wick of the lamp over the billiard-table. At last it went fairly out, and I jogged homewards. In the Three Kings all was as closely packed and noisy as it is in a bee-hive; not one rational word to be heard. I was glad enough to save the tympana of my cars, and take refuge in my room. There I held a grand review of my pocket-book, purse, and watch. But my cigars! What scape-grace was now enjoying them through the little silver holder? What knave was chafing his nose with my real East Indian bandanna? What rapscallion fingers were lurking in my goodly gloves? Breathing vengeance I made fast my door and laid my weary limbs to rest; vain hope, alas! I dreamt all night long of house-breakers and cut-throats.

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Fortunately day-light soon appeared. In July it usually shows itself betimes. Away from this bustling Basle to-day," thought I, "where a man can neither make sure of his legs, his life, nor his handkerchief! But, stay a bit,-had I not to pocket the money first, to take leave of my friend, and to wait for Martin? Accordingly, I determined once more to be patient, and went down to breakfast. As chance would have it, I met the landlord and several of his guests; they were talking promiscuously in an under-tone, and altogether there seemed a great hurry-skurry in the house.

"I hope you have slept well," said the landlord to me. "Pretty well."

"Do you intend favouring us any longer in Basle?" "I shall stay till the evening." I was just going to ask for Monsieur Durand's room, when the landlord interrupted me.

"This is a sad piece of business," said he, in an under

tone.

"What piece of business?"

"Zounds! there is a strange rumour afloat in the house."

"Indeed!"

"Why yes, you know that very well."

"Ah! the miscreant! And he try to pass for a shopkeeper too, in St. Marie-aux-Mines?"

"To be sure he does, you told me.-Hist, here he comes !"

The landlord pointed to the stairs; we were standing at the coffee-room door. Claude Barrault came slowly up. "That is he," said I.

At the same moment Monsieur Durand appeared, making his way down stairs; a screaming and brawling was heard in the kitchen, and the landlord hurried away to set things at rest. Monsieur Durand saluted me politely, as he passed. "I am just going to Forkart's," said he, "in another hour you will find me here."

"Quite right," said I, "I will wait upon you." Durand went down stairs, and Barrault up. I followed him with my eyes, and could really see that his pocketsthey were those of the pea-coloured coat-were crammed with all sorts of plunder. The fellow was evidently just fresh from a foray, and looking uncommonly well satisfied and saucy. I moved away in search of the landlord, when a waiter followed close on my heels, and striking me roughly on the shoulder; "Man," said he, "the police want you."

What do the police want with me?" "You'll hear that soon enough."

I turned round, and sure enough the patrole were standing close to me, together with an individual in fine trim coat, and the individual in the fine trim coat said to me with the greatest possible coolness and composure, "Mr. Matzendorf, I believe, of so and so?" "At your service."

"Your friend Mr. has made a deposition at the Town-hall to the effect that you are in quest of one Claude Barrault?"

"Only in quest of him! I have got him, and fast enough too."

Well, then let it rest with us rather to fix him; he lives in ?"

Aha!"

he perceived the police.

"Whom are you bringing to me now?" said he, with a terrified air.

"Surrender!" cried I, making a spring at the gun to prevent any chance of a mishap.

You are our prisoner!" said the whole body of the police.

And now they made a pretty jargon of it. Not a soul could understand a word that was said. Claude Barrault played the refractory to perfection, quite in true French style; but all to no purpose. His chest of drawers was searched, and, true enough, there was nothing there; very few articles in his knapsack; in the dark coat that was hanging on a peg, nothing but a pocket-handkerchief and a slip of paper: but in the pea-green one, there were a couple of bran-new étuis, filled with gold-chains, pins, ear-rings, brooches, &c.; all of them set with precious stones. His pocket-book contained a mass of bills of exchange and bank notes; and in his purse were all sorts of gold pieces. The commissary made an inventory of the whole, sealed and locked it up, took with him what he pleased, and sent the delinquent on before to the Town-Hall, under an escort of patrole. Then he bade me follow him to the magistrate, where I made my deposition, stating all I knew about Claude Barrault. The luckless wight himself was sitting in the background, repenting of the thousand insults he had cast in my teeth on my introducing the police into his room. The case was a long one. At length I was dismissed for the present, with an injunction, however, not to quit Basle. As I passed through the ante-room I saw my landlord, my correspondent, and a host of people, waiting to make their depositions against the thief, who, as they said, had robbed them. Just at the door it occurred to me that I had forgotten to tell the magistrate about Monsieur Durand, who, by the bye, knew Barrault by sight; and I was on the point of returning, when, thought I to myself, "Thank your stars that they have done with you, and make the best of your way home. Time enough to-morrow, since they will not let you leave. At the same time I resolved that my worthy friend and correspondent should have a smart dressing for so officiously playing the chatter-box, and getting me into this unpleasant dilemma. For I grudged the loss of time still more than the money that I had to get rid of in Basle for bed and board.

And now talking of 'board' reminds me that on my way home I felt the cravings of a most ravenous appetite, which occasioned an extraordinary acceleration of my pace. Thrice happy he who feels hungry just at the right moment, and who is not too merciful to his legs! Without such an appetite, and such alacrity, what would not have befallen me?

Picture to yourselves,-it was the time of the late table-d'-hôte in the Three Kings. All the company were at table; the landlord not at home; the landlady, the head-waiter, and his subalterns in the greatest bustle. The porter, already busy with the work of digestion, was leaning with contented vacuity of thought against the door-post; but no, I am wrong-one thought was rife in him, he was speculating on the fee that the gentleman would give him, who was just preparing to get into his carriage and drive off. I approached the vehicle from behind. I was within a hundred paces of it, when, thought I to myself, "To look at it in the rear, that carriage is very much like your own, Matzendorf." All at once I heard a clear and well-known neigh in front of it. "Good heavens, that is Tartar !" thought I, and I darted like lightning towards the vehicle, just as a gentleman was popping out his head, and going to give the porter and hostler their fees. In a moment I seized his hand, "Ha ha! not so fast, Monsieur Durand," cried I. To be sure there was a fellow on the box who made fine play with his whip on my poor horses, but Lucy and Tartar knew my voice, pricked up their cars, and cared nothing for the Frenchman's allons, en avant! or whatever it was.

think to drive off with my coach and horses, without paying for them?" and I rushed, like one possessed, at the door of the carriage, without giving the smallest heed to the bawling and wrangling of the worthy Monsieur Durand. 'Don't let the coachman go !" shouted I to the hostler; for that young limb of the devil was leaping like a grasshopper from the box. The hostler, like an honest fellow, laid hands on the rogue. But I should scarcely have managed matters with Durand : he slipped through my fingers like an eel, for the purpose of jumping out of the other door; and heaven knows where he would have been off to, for the porter never stirred an inch the whole time. But, as good fortune would have it, Martin came in just at that moment from Grenzach, and seeing me in hot pursuit of Monsieur Durand, he at once took the hint; and, in short, Monsieur Durand was in his clutches before he had time to say Amen.

The run of the whole provoking affair was the following:

The soi-disant Durand had watched an opportunity, when the people of the hotel had their hands full of business, and, with the aid of his scoundrel of an accomplice, had managed to get possession of both coach and horses. The hostler, who had been a witness of our bargain, thought the thing was settled, and soon struck his colours before a piece of effrontery which appeared to him to be a justly-acquired right. So Monsieur Durand had intended to take his leave of me, à la Française; but he had reckoned without his host; at least, without taking my hunger and locomotive power into account.

While I was heaping my invectives on the Frenchman in the street,-(a dense crowd, by the bye, soon gathered round us,)—and hallooing for the patrole, my eye happened to fall on M. Durand's respectable coachman; and now I shouted louder still, for who should the rogue be, but the very same fellow who had smoked my cigars, used my pocket-handkerchief, and done dishonour to my gloves? The latter articles were found upon him; and in the chaise was a piece of goods that almost threw me into a swoon to look at it. If it was hard enough in the villain to wish to make off with my coach and horses, it was certainly still harder in him to covet my case of watches in the bargain. With the card I had given him, the thorough-paced rascal had sent his helpmate to my friend, and one of the under clerks, a privileged time-killer, in the full scope of his stupidity, had delivered up the case!

At length the city-watch came up, and the most miscellaneous mass of articles were unhoused, in boxes full, from my innocent carriage. All of them were stolen goods; and the magistrate, who got Monsieur Durand into his clutches, hugged him so unkindly, that on the very next day he confessed himself to be Claude Barrault, and a most notorious thief. A pretty scrape I might soon have been in!

As to the man of Markirch, he really did come from Markirch; though he was somewhat more jealous than discreet. All that he had told me was true, even to his very name; and he scarcely could have chosen a more unlucky one. To be sure, he never knew, for a moment, that such a rascal laid claim to it. Having found his beloved true to him, instead of faithless; and having learned that the young damsel was as madly smitten with him as he was with her, he had fairly bought up a couple of jewellers, in order to enhance his attentions to his mistress by a few costly keepsakes; and these handsome presents were the very means of fastening suspicion upon him: just as it often happens in the world, where we are ready to believe all that is bad, and to doubt of what is good. What served to aggravate the misunderstanding was, that his rival's name was Durand!

The hero of Markirch-and really I cannot altogether blame him—talked very loudly, for a time, of taking me by the ears, or sending a bullet through my body. But, whether it was that some of his less mettlesome friends quieted him, that his intended spoke a good word for

SONNET: TO THE REDBREAST.

WHEN that the fields put on their gay attire, Thou silent sitt'st near brake or river's brim, Whilst the gay thrush sings loud from covert dim; But when pale Winter lights the social fire,

And meads with slime are spent and ways with mire,
Thou charm'st us with thy soft and solemn hymn,
From battlement or barn, or hay-stack trin;
And now not seldom tun'st, as if for hire,

Thy thrilling pipe to me, waiting to catch
The pittance due to thy well-warbled song:

Sweet bird, sing on! for oft near lonely hatch, Like thee, myself have pleased the rustic throng, And oft for entrance 'neath the peaceful thatch, Paid the cheap tribute of a simple song.

Miscellaneous.

"I have here made only a nosegay of culled flowers, and have brought nothing of my own, but the string that ties them."-Montaigne.

HE that denies to give alms for fear of being poor, or to entertain a disciple for fear of being suspected of the party, or to own a duty for fear of being put to venture for a crown; he that takes part of the intemperance, because he dares not displease the company, or in any sense fears the fears of the world, and not the fear of God, this man enters into his portion of fear betimes, but it will not be finished to eternal ages. To fear the censures of men, when God is your judge; to fear their evil, when God is your defence; to fear death, when he is the entrance to life and felicity, is unreasonable and pernicious; but if you will turn your passion into duty, and joy, and security, fear to offend God; to enter voluntarily into temptation; fear the alluring face of lust, and the smooth entertainments of intemperance; fear the anger of God, when you have deserved it; and, when you have recovered from the snare, then infinitely fear to return into that condition, in which, whosoever dwells, is the heir of fear and eterual sorrow.--Jeremy Taylor.

Ir is a common remark, that the advantages enjoyed by a numerous family are pretty nearly compensated by the greater number of misfortunes to which, of course, they are liable. But it has seldom been observed how much more patiently such misfortunes are borne; the superior advantages of community in affliction are fully equal to those experienced in the participation of enjoyment. More topies of consolation are presented, in proportion to the number; there is a generous rivalry in administering to the general consolation, which receives its reward in a more prompt and complete mastery over individual feeling; and, frequently, one rises above the rest, with all the authority of a prophet, to whose guidance all submit, and, in the submission, find employment for that redundant affection, the immediate object of which is now no more.-Rectory of Valeshead.

IT has often struck me as very strange, that, amid all the instruction given to our youth, the grandest, and yet commonest occasion in life, the hour of sorrow, is left totally unprovided for. I should rather say, perhaps, that wrong notions are indirectly instilled upon the subject at least, I know that it requires a parent's constant care to counteract that admiration which the boy, in his classical reading, imbibes of the heathen examples of fortitude. Such fortitude is assuredly vitally opposed to the true christian spirit. It is the sulky patience which endures what it cannot avoid, the rebellious pride of the reptile which defies and hisses in the very act of being crushed.-Ibid.

THE MAIDEN AUNT.

DUNCOMBE PARK.

[COLONEL HARWOOD was the husband of Jane, the next sister of Margaret Forde. Mrs. Harwood brought her lord a son and a daughter within the first three years of their marriage. Ten years afterwards she died in giving birth to a second little girl. The disconsolate widower went to reside in France, both to divert his own grief by change of scene, and to afford his daughters the advantages of education, which that region of indefinite extension, the Continent, is in England somewhat vaguely supposed to afford. He did not return till his two eldest children had attained the ages, respectively, of twenty-six and twenty-eight, while Janet, the youngest had just passed her sixteenth birthday.]

CHAP. I.

Dec. 14th.-It was an interesting visit on which I entered to-day, and I felt unusually nervous as my humble one-horse fly drove through the great gates of Duncombe Park, and finally deposited me, my carpetbag, my trunk, my bandbox, my two baskets, and my seven parcels, beneath the stately portico of the mansion itself. I was ashamed to burthen the dignified footman with all my odds and ends, especially as I saw him raise a wistful look, first to the coach-box and then to the

door, evidently expecting to see my lady's maid in the act of descending; and, when he became convinced that I travelled without any such appendage, I detected a spice of contempt in the elaborate civility with which them on the hall table. I was afraid lest the yet grander he took package after package from my hands to deposit butler, who stood behind, should see my prunella shoes; which I carried in a separate parcel that I might not have to fish them up from the bottom of the bag when making my toilette for dinner; so I thrust them into my spacious pocket in a great hurry, somewhat to the ing a lofty indifference as to the fate of that precious disadvantage of the symmetry of my figure, and affectheap of parcels, every one of which I longed to carry up stairs and unfasten with my own hands, I followed my conductor across the marble floor. On the threshold of the drawing-room I was met by my brother-in-law, who took me by both hands, and welcomed me in the kindest possible manner. "My dear Miss Forde," said he,

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I can assure you that this is one of the most gratifying moments I have experienced since I left the Continent." Then, giving me his arm, he led me forward and introduced me to his daughters, the elder of whom submitted to my embrace, while the younger cordially returned it. During the five or ten minutes which elapsed before I was conducted to my bedroom to dress, I had time to make a rapid survey of the trio, and compare them with