after all that has happened. 'Why,' said he, with a hesitating manner and a bashful smile that irritated me considerably, 'I can assure you it's nothing in the world but a bit of a likeness.'-'A bit of a likeness! Ah! let me see it.'-Oh, to be sure, sir, if you wish so.' He passed the chain over his head, drew the object it was attached to from his breast, and lo! my long-lost miniature was before my eyes. 'Come, you must not go ashore yet!' said I. Sit down here, and tell me how you came by this-tell me everything about it.' By this time the poor fellow was perfectly astounded at my eagerness and excitement; and seemed, also, to be a little bit offended. 'I didn't steal it, at any rate!' said he.-'No, no; who dreamed of such a thing!' and then, as I knew my man, that he was intelligent, sympathetic, and honest, I recounted to him in a few words the whole history of the 'bit of a likeness,' and of my acquaintance with the original of it, in order that he might comprehend matters, and see the necessity of affording me all the information he could. When he was sufficiently brought round, he told me his story-such as it was. Four years ago, he said, he was in England for a month or two betwixt his homeward and outward voyages, and roamed to Bwhich was some twelve miles from his port of debarkation. There he went to the theatre, and being greatly charmed by the beautiful acting of a young lady named Houghton, he repeated the visit several times. She was the very lady I had been speaking of, of course. her, and admired her more than ever, on the very last night on which she performed. Then immediately followed the dreadful affair of her death, and it had made such an impression on him, that he had never been able to banish the image of her from his mind. Well, this being the case, what was his surprise when, some twelve months after-on the other side of the world, at Callao-he perceived, in a jeweller's shop, a miniature bearing an exact resemblance to the illfated lady! The man was chained to the spot by surprise and emotion, he assured me, and could not take himself away until he had made a proposal to the jeweller for the purchase of the article, and some inquiries as to how he became possessed of it. The jeweller stated that he had just returned from Europe, whither he had been to select an assortment He saw of watches, trinkets, and jewellery, from various places on the Continent; and the miniature had been included in a lot purchased from a tradesman at Brussels, a man named Politton; a fact, as our friend saw by the invoice that was shown him in the course of the chaffering that ensued as to what price it would be fair for him to pay for it; for, though not impelled by any considerations as to circumstantial evidence, he was very eager to become the possessor of it-on purely reminiscent and sentimental reasons of his own. Well, to come to the end of the story, I proved to him that he was bound to let me have the trinket, for the sake of justice—and a tolerably handsome sum in hard cash. He was very unwilling for a long time, but finally I got the better of him; and now, the next thing to be done is to go over to Brussels, search out this Politton, and find out in what manner he obtained it.' In a few days we found ourselves in the boutique of M. Politton at Brussels, a Jew dealer in an enormous variety of articles, from diamonds of the finest water, to such unconsidered trifles as meerschaum pipes and silk pocket-handkerchiefs. Somehow or other we found it very difficult to obtain any information from him. Doubtless he had deemed it politic to cultivate a habit of reserve as to the manner in which anything came into his possession. But at length Coleraine's eagerness and persistence, and the munificence with which he made purchases, vanquished him; and then we learned that the miniature had been sold to him by an Englishman who had come to Brussels as a teacher of the English language, but who was in very poor circumstances at the time. He did not know his name, nor had he seen him since; but he referred us to a Professor Wienkel, in whose academy the individual had been engaged as English teacher. From M. Politton's we repaired straightway to Professor Wienkel-a German by birth, but a Belgian by naturalisation. The professor did not seem well pleased to be reminded of his former assistant (Mr Crawford he supposed we were alluding to); looking at us suspiciously and sternly, and asking us if we were his friends. 'Crawford?' It was the first time we had heard that name; and consequently there was an interchange of personal descriptions, which, however, speedily established, to a tolerable degree of assurance, the identity of 'Crawford' with Craven, or Houghton. We were both eager to disclaim any degree of 'friendship' for the object of our inquiries; but assured the professor significantly that we had very powerful reasons for desiring to discover him. The professor then told us, with wrathful indignation, all he knew about Crawford. The man had come to him offering his services as English teacher, and, pleading the position of cruel necessity to which he, a gentleman of education and attainments, had been reduced, entreated employment, if only for a short time. 'His manner was very plausible and insinuating such as the manner of the vilest scoundrels most frequently is,' continued the professor, with a crescendo of wrath; 'and I consented to try him. He entered upon his duties in the academy, and certainly seemed to be an accomplished master of his language; his elocution was particularly good-had quite a professional air-so much so that I should imagine him to have been an actor at one time. Yes? Ah! I thought so. He went on well enough for a few weeks, but soon began to exhibit certain intolerable peculiarities. He had fits of excitement, fits of despondence; fits of laughing, fits of crying; nightmare fits, sleep-walking fits; and I don't know what: keeping the whole establishment on the rack day and night. In fact, had I not discovered him to be a villain, I should have charitably supposed that his misfortunes had driven him mad. But he was a scoundrel, a thief, aswindler, gentlemen-no madman. I was just thinking of the best means of getting rid of him, in consequence of his unendurable infirmities, when the fellow saved me the trouble, by taking French leave in the middle of the night; and after that I speedily discovered that he had been most industriously improving his time-swindling some dozen tradespeople in the city -obtaining goods and money in my name! That's the gentleman you are inquiring for, sirs! If I only had the time and the means, I would go a pretty long distance, and through any amount of trouble, sirs, to see the fellow punished!' 'And since,' interposed Coleraine'have you discovered-have you heard nothing of him since?' 'Nothing! I only wish I had.' 'Have you any reason to imagine that he returned to England?' 'Well, I am disposed to think he remained on the Continent. At all events, some months after his departure, I received a most wild and insolent letter from him, written, it would seem, sirs, for the mere pleasure of abusing and irritating me; but he was careful enough not to supply any date or address.' 'But the post-mark!' 'It had the Paris post-mark; but nothing was to be gained by that; he might have sent it there from any other place.' Such was all the information we could gain from Professor Wienkel. It would take too much time and space to record all the endeavours Coleraine made to find some further clue before we left Brussels. Suffice it to state that, in a few days, we proceeded to Paris. There Coleraine immediately put himself in communication with the police; but though those accomplished espioneurs knew every English resident, and especially every teacher of English, in Paris, the minutest description failed to recall to their memories either the name or person of Craven, Houghton, or Crawford. They, however, on being given to understand that the person in question was a fugitive from justice, indicated to us three or four especial places where such undesirable residents had been frequently known to take refuge. Assuming various disguises, but generally the blouse and cap of the ouvrier, we made various perilous pilgrimages to these places, passing through many wild and hideous scenes and experiences, which I shall never be able to forget. All were in vain, but the excursion that we had determined should be the last. Between four and five o'clock, the early dawn of a Parisian autumn morning found us issuing from a large but wretched house in a very narrow street in the neighbourhood of the Barrière du Trône, where we had stationed ourselves through the whole of the night, watching the skulking or blustering comers and goers. Despairing of our object, we little dreamed how near we had been to it all the time. At the door of the house next but one to that in which we had stationed ourselves, a number of men and women, of dandyish And have you no clue whatever to but wretched and dissipated appearance, the direction he took?' were lounging, notwithstanding the un seasonable hour. They were laughing, jeering, and passing remarks one to the other, seeming to be commenting, as far as we could gather, upon some performance that was going on within. We were hardly past them, when the loud tones of a high-pitched voice saluted our ears, causing us both to stop short, and Coleraine to tremble violently. 'Give me another horse! Bind up my wounds! Have mercy, Jesu!' Without exchanging a word, we turned back, made our way through the group, entered the house, and proceeded to a room, sufficiently indicated for our guidance, in which the performance was going on. As soon as we could see or breathe in the vile atmosphere, we made out that we were in the presence of as unprepossessing and dangerous an audience as one could possibly find collected in the 'sinks and stews' of a large capital; and that on a small stage at the end of the apartment an excited individual was giving specimens of the Shaksperian drama, for the amusement of his Gallic company. The actor was Houghton! But how changed! What wonder our descriptions failed! It seemed as if, in the four years that had passed since we had seen him, he had lived forty of vice and misery. His face was wrinkled, his hair grey, his step uncertain, his glance like that of one on the verge of lunacy; and as he went round with a pewter salver to collect the contributions of the company, his hand trembled so violently, that the coins rattled aloud. One Sunday, an Irishman made a sudden rush into a druggist's shop in town. Drawing from his pocket a soda-water bottle, filled to the brim with some pure liquid, he handed it across the counter, and exclaimed, "There, docthor, snuff that, would you?' The doctor did as directed, and pronounced the liquid to be genuine whisky. "Thank you, doctor,' said the Irishman; 'hand me it back again.' The doctor again did as directed, and asked Patrick what he meant. 'Och, then,' said Pat, if you will have it, the praste told me not to drink any of this unless I got it from the hands of a docthor. So here's your health, and the praste's health, and the health of Moses !' VERY TRYING.-To see a wasp-waisted young lady in ringlets and abundance of flounces gracefully sail to the head of the table, and, with a voice as angelic as a tenor flute, call to the waiter for a plate of cold pork and beans, is the most trying thing romance can encounter. 'Have you read my last speech!' said a prosy orator the other day to a friend. 'I hope so,' was the satisfactory reply. We had seen enough. From that fearful haunt, we proceeded direct to the bureau of the Prefect of Police. Within two hours Houghton was arrested, and placed in custody, to await the result of a communication with the police authorities of London. Before a week was over, two detectives arrived from one of the London police courts, and the prisoner was conveyed to England, ourselves accompanying the officers. As it happened, the Gloucester Assizes were just about to commence, and the venue of the indictment necessitated the trial of the case thereat; so that, after a preliminary committal by the magistrates, the trial followed almost immediately, and amidst such a degree of public excitement as only the most remarkable cases can arouse. But it was fated that the justice of this world should be defeated. It appeared that the wretched prisoner had, during his expatriation, resorted to stimulants with desperate extravagance. For some days previous to his arrest, he had lived almost on brandy alone. Delirium tremens ensued. In the midst of the trial, a violent and appalling fit seized him; and while screaming his denunciations of Coleraine, as the murderer both of his wife and himself, he fell to the ground in a swoon, which was only terminated by his death, some few hours after. Such is the strange story of my friend's Miniature. A TRUTH-Bad as the world is, respect is always paid to virtue. In the usual course of human affairs, it will be found that a plain understanding joined to acknowledged worth, contributes more to posterity than the brightest parts without probity and honour. TAKING IT LITERALLY.-A boy who was sent to know how an old lady, named Vilkins, was in health, delivered his message thus: 'Please, marm, missus wants to know how old Mrs Wilkins is?' To which she replied, 'She is just seventy-four.' CHARACTERISTIC DEFINITION.--A few Sabbaths ago, a minister who was giving an address in one of the schools near Halifax, asked the question, 'What is a feast?' when a chubby-faced boy gave the following answer: 'A fatty cake wi' currans in't.' MODERATION IN SMOKING.-A clergyman was rebuked by a brother of the cloth for smoking. The culprit replied that he used the weed moderately.-'What do you call moderately?' inquired the other.-'Why sir,' said the offender, 'one cigar at a time.' 18 THE BACHELOR'S CANE-BOTTOMED CHAIR. In tatter'd old slippers that toast at the bars, Is grand through the chimney-pots over the way. And foolish old odds and foolish old ends, Crack'd bargains from brokers, cheap keepsakes from friends. Old armour, prints, pictures, pipes, china (all crack'd), Old rickety tables, and chairs broken-back'd; A twopenny treasury, wondrous to see; What matter? 'tis pleasant to you, friend, and me. No better divan need the Sultan require, Than the creaking old sofa that basks by the fire; Long, long through the hours, and the night, and the chimes, This chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me. But of all the cheap treasures that garnish my nest, A thrill must have pass'd through your wither'd old arms! I wish'd myself turn'd to a cane-bottom'd chair. It was but a moment she sat in this place, She'd a scarf on her neck, and a smile on her face! A smile on her face, and a rose in her hair, And she sat there, and bloom'd in my cane-bottom'd chair. And so I have valued my chair ever since, Like the shrine of a saint, or the throne of a prince; The queen of my heart and my cane-bottom'd chair. W. M. THACKERAY, TO THE LADY IN THE CHEMISETTE WITH BLACK BUTTONS. I know not who thou art, thou lovely one: I must glide on, I dare not feast mine eye, Nor o'er the iron rails that hem thee in Hast thou papa ? And what doth he for lucre? Lo again! Or westward from the Line of Kipp & Brown- But farewell, And I shall look for thee in streets where dwell LOVE. No one has ever painted love so as fully to satisfy another. To some the description is too florid-to others it is too commonplace. The god, like other gods, has no likeness upon earth; and every wave upon which the star of passions beams breaks the lustre into different modifications of light.-Sir E. Bulwer. WHAT A QUESTION.- Did you ever see Forti?' asked a city gent of a lady from the country, at the opera, the other night.-'See forty?' cxclaimed she, with an indescribable air; 'I ain't thirty-five yet!' WOMAN. O woman! lovely woman! thou That wither thy warm and thy wareless heart! And thy form in the coldness of death be laid, And yet shall it be that the hearts of guile Shall look on thee with anguish more keen Frail woman! for thee was the earth accursed, nursed; Thy couch shall be cold, and thy slumber deep, H. S. Riddell. THE SCHOOLMASTER AT HOME.-A young lady recently returned from boarding-school, being asked at table if she would take some more cabbage, replied, 'By no means, madam; gastronomical satiety admonishes me that I have arrived at the ultimate of culinary deglutition consistent with the code of of Esculapius.' WHAT A ROGUE.-'John, how I wish it was as much the fashion to trade wives as it is to trade horses.'-'Why so?'-'I'd cheat somebody shocking bad afore night.' |