SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF OLIVER GOLDSMITH. The character of Goldsmith was in the highest degree good natured and benevolent; he was every one's friend, and any one's dupe, retaining, as he did, amid all his worldly experience, his natural simplicity and philanthropy of heart. But he was not truly estimable: for he was, with all his good qualities, improvident, dissipated, and meanly jealous of a literary rival. He was also, at times, impetuous and passionate; but corrected himself upon a moment's reflection, and it is said his servants would throw themselves in his way upon these occasions, as they were certain of being rewarded after the anger of their master had subsided. Mrs. Piozzi describes him as a poor fretful creature, eaten up with affectation and envy, and the only person she ever knew who acknowledged himself to be envious. It is known that he used his pen better than his tongue, and the same lady calls his conversation a strange mixture of absurdity and silliness. Some one who saw him for the first time in company, declared he was "the most solemn coxcomb he had ever met with," and the phrase of "inspired idiot," is well known as applied to him. As an author he is to be considered in the character of a poet, his torical compiler, novelist, essayist, and dramatist; in all of which he has been so far successful as to leave some work in these respective departments of literature, alone sufficient to perpetuate his reputation. It is as a poet, however, that he will be chiefly esteemed: The Traveller, The Deserted Village, and The Hermit, are unrivalled in their class, and though Dr. Aikin has placed them at the head of the minor compositions, will always retain their original popularity. His literary qualifications cannot be better described than in the words of Dr. Johnson, who calls him a man of such variety of powers, and such felicity of performance, that he always seemed to do best that which he was doing; a man, who had the art of being minute, without tediousness, and general, without confusion; whose language was copious, without exuberance; exact, without constraint; and easy, without weakness." Johnson was always ready to testify to the merits of Goldsmith, and being one day of a party at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, where several affirmed that the author of The Traveller had neither talent nor originality, he rose with great dignity, looked them full in the face, and exclaimed, “If nobody was suffered to abuse poor Goldy, but those who could write as well, he would have fow censors." Many anecdotes are told of his credulous simplicity and indiscriminate benevolence. Sitting one evening at the tavern where he was accustomed to take his supper, he called for a mutton chop, which was no sooner placed on the table, than a gentleman near him, with whom he was intimately acquainted, showed great tokens of uneasiness, and wondered how the Doctor could suffer the waiter to place such a stinking chop before him. "Stinking!" said Goldsmith. "In good truth I do not smell it." "I never smelt anything n.ore unpleasant in my life," answered the gentleman; "the fellow deserves a caning for bringing you meat unfit to eat " "In good truth," said the poet, relying on his judgment, "I think so too, but I will be less severe in my punishment." He instantly called the waiter, and insisted that he should eat the chop as a punishment. The waiter resisted, but the Doctor threatened to knock him down with his cane if he did not immediately comply. When he had eaten half the chop, the Doctor gave him a glass of wine, thinking it would make the remainder less painful to him. When the waiter had finished his repast, Goldsmith's friend burst into a loud laugh. "What ails you now?" said the poet, "Indeed, my good friend, I never could think that any man, whose knowledge of letters is so extensive as yours, could be so great a dupe to a stroke of humour; the chop was as fine a one as I ever saw in my life." "Was it?" said Dr. Goldsmith; "then I will never give credit to what you say again; and so, in good truth, I think I am even with you." Being pressed by his tailor for a debt, he appointed a day for payment, and procured the money in due time, but before the tailor came, Glover called on the Doctor, and related a piteous tale of his goods being seized for rent. The thoughtless and benevolent Goldsmith immediately gave Glover all the money he possessed. When the tailor arrived, Goldsmith assured him that had he called a little earlier, he should have had his money; "but," added he, “ I have just parted with every penny I had in the world, to a friend in distress. I should have been a cruel wretch, you know, not to have relieved him when it was in my power." In the suite of the Doctor's pensioners was one Jack Pilkington, who had served the Doctor so many tricks, that he despaired of getting any more money from him, without resorting to a chef d'œuvre, once for all. He accordingly called on the Doctor one morning; and running about the room in a fit of joy, told him his fortune was made. "How so, Jack?" says the Doctor. Why," replied Jack, "the Duchess of Marlborough, you must know, has long had a strange penchant for a pair of white mice: now, as I knew they were sometimes to be had in the East Indies, I commissioned a friend of mine, who was going out there, to get them for me, and he is this morning arrived with two of the most beauti ful little animals in nature." After Jack had finished this account with a transport of joy, he lengthened his visage, by telling the Doctor all was ruined, for without two guineas, to buy a cage for the mice, he could not present them. The Doctor, unfortunately, as he said himself, had but half a guinea in the world, which he offered him But Pilkington was not to be beat out of his scheme; he perceived the Doctor's watch hanging up in his room, and after premising on the indelicacy of the proposal, hinted that if he could spare that watch for a week, he would raise a few guineas on it, which he would repay him with gratitude. The Doctor accordingly took down the watch and gave it to him, which Jack immediately carried to the pawnbroker's, raised what he could on it, and never once looked after the Doctor, till he sent to borrow another halfguinea from him on his death-bed, which the other, under such circumstances, very generously sent him. One afternoon, as Colonel O'Moore and Mr. Burke were going to dine with Sir Joshua Reynolds, they observed Goldsmith (also going to Sir Joshna's) standing near a crowd of people, who were staring and shouting at some foreign women in the windows of one of the houses in Leicester-square. "Observe Goldsmith," said Mr. great earnestness, protested he was unconscious of what was meant. Burke to Colonel O'Moore," and mark what passes between him "Why," said Burke, "did you not exclaim, as you were looking and me by and by, at Sir Joshua's." They passed on, and arrived up at those women, 'What stupid beasts the crowd must be for before Goldsmith, who came soon after, and Mr. Burke affected to staring with such admiration at those painted Jezabels, when a receive him very coolly. This seemed to vex poor Goldsmith, who man of my talent passes by unnoticed?'" Goldsmith was horror begged Mr. Burke would tell him how he had the misfortune to struck, and said, "Surely, surely, my dear friend, I did not say offend him. so." "Nay," replied Burke, "if you had not said it, how should I have known it?" "That's true," answered Goldsmith, with great humility "1 am very sorry, it was very foolish; I do recollect that something of the kind passed through my mind, but Burke appeared very reluctant to speak, but, after a good deal of pressing, said, "that he was really ashamed to keep up an inti macy with one who could be guilty of such monstrous indiscretion as Goldsmith had just exhibited in the square." Goldsmith, with | I did not think I had uttered it." CHAPTER I. LIONEL LINCOLN. No American can be ignorant of the principal events that induced the parliament of Great Britain, in 1774, to lay those impolitic restrictions on the port of Boston which so effectually destroyed the trade of the chief town in her western colonies. Nor should it be unknown to any American, how nobly, and with what devotedness to the great principles of the controversy, the inhabitants of the adjacent town of Salem refused to profit by the situation of their neighbours and fellowsubjects. In consequence of these impolitic measures of the English government, and of the laudable unanimity among the capitalists of the times, it became a rare s ght to see the canvass of any other vessels than such as wore the pennants of the king, whitening the forsaken waters of Massachusetts Bay. Towards the decline of a day in April, 1775, however, the eyes of hundreds had been fastened on a distant sail, which was seen rising from the bosom of the waves, making her way along the forbidden track, and steering directly for the mouth of the proscribed haven. With that deep solicitude in passing events which marked the period, a large group of spectators was collected on Beacon-hill, spreading from its conical summit far down BY J. FENIMORE COOPER. Mrs. Lechmere and Cecil Dynevor. to each other. While the decent, grave, but wary citizen was endeavouring to conceal the bitterness of the sensations which soured his mind, under the appearance of a cold indifference, a few gay young men, who mingled in the throng, bearing about their persons the trappings of their martial profession, were loud in their exultations, and hearty in their congratulations on the prospect of hearing from their distant homes aud absent friends. But the long, loud rolls of the drums, ascending on the evening air, from the adjacent common, soon called these idle spectators, in a body, from the spot, when the hill was left to the quiet possession of those who claimed the strongest right to its enjoyment. It was not, however, a period for open and unreserved communications. Long before the mists of evening had succeeded the shadows thrown from the setting sun, the hill was entirely deserted; the remainder of the spectators having descended from the eminence, and held their several courses, singly, silent, and thoughtful, towards the rows of dusky roofs that covered the lowland, along the castern side of the peninsula. Notwithstanding this appearance of apathy, rumour, which, in times of great excitement, ever finds means to convey its whisperings, when it dare not bruit its information aloud, was the eastern declivity, all gazing intently on the object of their common | busy in circulating the unwe.come intelligence, that the stranger was the interest. In so large an assemblage, however, there were those who were first of a fleet, bringing stores and reinforcements to an army already too excited by very different feelings, and indulging in wishes directly opposi numerous, and too confident of its power. to respect the law. No tumult or noise succeeded this unpleasant annunciation; but the doors of the houses were sullenly closed, and the windows darkened, as if the people intended to express their dissatisfaction, alone, by these silent testimonials of their disgust. In the meantime the ship had gained the rocky entrance to the harbour, where, deserted by the breeze, and met by an adverse tide, she lay inactive, as if conscious of the unwelcome reception she must receive. The fears of the inhabitants of Boston had, however, exaggerated the danger; for the vessel, instead of exhibiting the confused and disorderly throng of licentious soldiery, which would have crowded a transport, was but thinly peopled, and her orderly decks were cleared of every incumbrance that could interfere with the comfort of those she did contain. There was an appearance in the arrangements of her external accommodations which would have indicated to an observant eye that she carried those who claimed the rank, or possessed the means of making others contribute largely to their comforts. The few seamen who navigated the ship lay extended on different portions of the vessel, watching the lazy sails as they flapped against the masts, or indolently bending their looks on the placid waters of the bay; while several menials in livery crowded around a young man who was putting his eager inquiries to the pilot, that had just boarded the vessel off the Graves. The dress of this youth was studiously neat, and from the excessive pains bestowed on its adjustment, it was obviously deemed by its wearer to be in the height of the prevailing customs. From the place where this inquisitive party stood, nigh the main-mast, a wide sweep of the quarterdeck was untenanted; but nearer to the spot where the listless seaman hung idly over the tiller of the ship, stood a being of altogether different mould and fashion. He was a man who would have seemed in the very extremity of age, had not his quick, vigorous steps, and the glowing, rapid glances from his eyes, as he occasionally paced the deck, appeared to deny the usual indications of many years. His form was bowed, and attenuated nearly to emaciation. His hair, which fluttered a little wildly around his temples, was thin, and silvered to the whiteness of at least eighty winters. Deep furrows, like the lines of great age and long endured cares united, wrinkled his hollow cheeks, and rendered the bold, haughty outline of his prominent features still more remarkable. He was clad in a simple and somewhat tarnished suit of modest gray, which bore about it the ill-concealed marks of long and neglected use. Whenever he turned his piercing look from the shores, he moved swiftly along the deserted quarterdeck, and seemed entirely engrossed with the force of his own thoughts, his lips moving rapidly, though no sounds were heard to issue from a mouth that was habitually silent. He was under the influence of one of those sudden impulses, in which the body, apparently, sympathised so keenly with the restless activity of the mind, when a young man ascended from the cabin, and took his stand among the interested and excited gazers at the land, on the upper deck. The age of this gentleman might have been five-and-twenty. He wore a military cloak, thrown carelessly across his form, which, in addition to such parts of his dress as were visible through its open folds, sufficiently announced that his profession was that There was an air of ease and high fashion gleaming about his person, though his speaking countenance, at times, seemed melancholy, if not sad. On gaining the deck, this young officer, encountering the eyes of the aged and restless being who trod its planks, bowed courteously before he turned away to the view, and in his turn became deeply absorbed in studying its fading beauties. of arms. For several minutes longer, the youth stood absorbed in his own mus ings, when, as if recollecting his previous purposes, he called aloud, "Meriton !" At the sounds of his voice the curious group around the pilot instantly separated, and the highly-ornamented youth, before mentioned, approached the officer, with a manner in which pert familiarity and fearful respect were peculiarly blended. Without regarding the air of the other, however, or indeed without even favouring him with a glance, the young soldier continued "I desired you to detain the boat which boarded us, in order to convey me to the town, Mr. Meriton; see if it be in readiness." The valet flew to execute this commission, and in an instant returned with a reply in the affirmative. "But, Sir," he continued, "you will never think of going in that boat, I feel very much assured, Sir." "Your assurance, Mr. Meriton, is not the least of your recommendations: why should I not?" "That disagreeable old stranger has taken possession of it, with his mean, filthy bundle of rags; and "And what? you must name a greater evil, to detain me here, than mentioning the fact that the only gentleman in the ship is to be my companion." "Lord, Sir!" said Meriton, glancing his eye upward in amazement; "but, Sir, surely you know best as to gentility of behaviour-but as to gentility of dressEnough of this," interrupted his master, a little angrily; "the company is such as I am content with; if you find it unequal to your deserts, you have my permission to remain in the ship until the morningthe presence of a coxcomb is by no means necessary to my comfort for one night." Without regarding the mortification of his disconcerted valet, the young man passed along the deck to the place where the boat was in waiting. By the general movement among the indolent menials, and the profound respect with which he was attended by the master of the ship to the gangway, it was sufficiently apparent, that, notwithstanding his youth, it was this gentleman whose presence had exacted those arrangements in the ship, which have been mentioned. While all around him, however, were busy in facilitating the entrance of the officer into the boat, the aged stranger occupied its principal seat, with an air of deep abstraction, if not of cool indifference. A hint from the pliant Meriton, who had ventured to follow his master, that it would be more agreeable if he would relinquish his place, was disregarded, and the youth took a seat by the side of the old man, with a simplicity of manner that his valet inwardly pronounced abundantly degrading. As if this humiliation were not sufficient, the young man, perceiving that a general pause had succeeded his own entrance, turned to his companion, and courteously inquired if he were ready to proceed. A silent wave of the hand was the reply, when the boat shot away from the vessel, leaving the ship steering for an anchorage in Nantasket. The measured dash of the oars was uninterrupted by any voice, while, stemming the tide, they pulled laboriously up among the islands; but by the time they had reached the castle, the twilight had melted into the softer beams from a young moon, and the surrounding objects becoming more distinct, the stranger commenced talking with that quick and startling vehemence which seemed his natural manner. He spoke of the localities, with the vehemence and fondness of an enthusiast, and with the familiarity of one who had long known their beauties. His rapid utterance, however, ceased as they approached the naked wharves, and he sunk back gloomily in the boat, as if unwilling to trust his voice on the subject of his country's wrongs. Thus left to his own thoughts, the youth gazed, with eager interest, at the long ranges of buildings, which were now clearly visible to the eye, though with softer colours and more gloomy shadows. A few hum of business, the forests of masts, and the rattling of wheels, which at that early hour should have distinguished the great mart of the colonics, were wanting. In their places were to be heard, at intervals, the sudden bursts of distant, martial music, the riotous merriment of the soldiery who frequented the taverns at the water's edge, or the sullen challengings of the sentinels from the vessels of war, as they vexed the progress of the few boats, which the inhabitants still used in their ordinary pursuits. The rounded heights of Dorchester were radiant with the rays of the luminary that had just sunk behind their crest, and streaks of paler light were playing along the waters, and gilding the green summits of the islands which clustered across the mouth of the estuary. Far in the distance were to be seen the tall spires of the churches, rising out of the deep shadows of the town, with their vanes glittering in the sumbeams, while a few rays of strong light were dancing about the black beacon, which reared itself high above the conical peak, that took its name from the cir-neglected and dismantled ships were lying at different points; but the cumstance of supporting this instrument of alarms. Several large vessels were anchored among the islands and before the town, their dark hulls, at each moment, becoming less distinct through the haze of evening, while the summits of their long lines of masts were yet glowing with the marks of day. From each of these sullen ships, from the low fortification which rose above a small island deep in the bay, and from various elevations in the town itself, the broad, silky folds of the flag of England were yet waving in the currents of the passing air. The young man was suddenly aroused from gazing at this scene by the quick reports of the evening guns, and while his eyes were yet tracing the descent of the proud symbols of the British power, from their respective places of display, he felt his arm convulsively pressed by the hand of his aged fellow-passenger. "Will the day ever arrive," said a low, hollow voice at his elbow, "when those flags shall be lowered, never to rise again in this hemisphere?" The young soldier turned his quick eyes to the countenance of the speaker, but bent them instantly in embarrassment on the deck, to avoid the keen, searching glance he encountered in the looks of the other. A long, and, on the part of the young man, a painful silence succeeded this remark. At length the youth, pointing to the land, said: "Tell me, you who are of Boston, and must have known it so long, the names of all these beautiful places I see.' " "And are you not of Boston too?" asked his old companion. "Certainly by birth, but an Englishman by habit and education." "Accursed be the habits, and neglected the education, which would teach a child to forget its parentage!" muttered the old man, turning suddenly, and walking away so rapidly as to be soon lost in the forward parts of the ship. “Here indeed is a change!" the young officer exclaimed, as they glided swiftly along this desolate scene; even my recollections, young and fading as they are, recall the difference!" The stranger made no reply, but a smile of singular meaning gleamed across his wan features, imparting, by the moonlight, to their remarkable expression, a character of additional wildness. The officer was again silent, nor did either speak until the boat, having shot by the end of the long wharf, across whose naked boundaries a sentinel was pacing his measured path, inclined more to the shore, and soon reached the place of its destination. Whatever might have been the respective feelings of the two passengers, at having thus reached in safety the object of their tiresome and protracted voyage, they were not expressed in language. The old man bared his silver locks, and, concealing his face with his hat, stood as if in deep mental thanksgiving at the termination of his toil, while his more youthful companion trod the wharf on which they landed with the air of a man whose emotions were too engrossing for the ordinary use of words. "Here we must part, Sir," the officer at length said; "but I trust the acquaintance, which has been thus accidentally formed between us, is not to be forgotten now there is an end to our common privations." "It is not in the power of a man whose days, like mine, are numbered," returned the stranger, "to mock the liberality of his God, by any vain promises that must depend on time for their fulfilment. I am one, young gentleman, who has returned from a sad, sad pilgrimage in the other hemisphere, to lay his bones in this, his native land; but should many hours be granted me, you will hear further of the man whom your courtesy and kindness have so greatly obliged." The officer was sensibly affected by the softened but solemn manner of his companion, and pressed his wasted hand fervently as he answered"Do; I ask it as a singular favour; I know not why, but you have obtained a command of my feelings that no other being ever yet possessed-and yet 'tis a mystery, 'tis like a dream! I feel that I not only venerate, but love you!" The old man stepped back, and held the youth at the length of his arm for a moment, while he fastened on him a look of glowing interest, and then, raising his hand slowly, he pointed impressively upward, and said "Tis from heaven, and for God's own purposes-smother not the sentiment, boy, but cherish it in your heart's core! The reply of the youth was interrupted by sudden and violent shrieks, that burst rudely on the stillness of the place, chilling the very blood of those who heard them with their piteousness. The quick and severe blows of a lash were blended with the exclamations of the sufferer, and rude oaths, with hoarse execrations, from various voices, were united in the uproar, which appeared to be at no great distance. By a common impulse, the whole party broke away from the spot, and moved rapidly up the wharf in the direction of the sounds. As they approached the buildings, a group was seen collected around the man, who thus broke the charm of evening by his cries, interrupting his wailings with their ribaldry, and encouraging his tormentors to proceed. "Mercy, mercy, for the sake of the blessed God, have mercy, and don't kill Job!" again shrieked the sufferer; "Job will run your a'r'nds! Job is half-witted! Mercy on poor Job! Oh! you make his flesh creep!" "I'll cut the heart from the mutinous knave," interrupted a hoarse, angry voice, "to refuse to drink the health of his majesty!" Job does wish him good health-Job loves the king-only Job don't love rum." The officer had approached so nigh as to perceive that the whole scene was one of disorder and abuse, and pushing aside the crowd of excited and deriding soldiers who composed the throng, he broke at once into the centre of the circle. CHAPTER II. "WHAT means this outery?" demanded the young man, arresting the arm of an infuriated soldier, who was inflicting the blows; 'by whose authority is this man thus abused?" By what authority dare you to lay hands on a British grenadier?" cried the fellow, turning in his fury, and raising his lash against the supposed townsman. But when, as the officer stepped aside to avoid the threatened indignity, the light of the moon fell full upon his glittering dress, through the opening folds of his cloak, the arm of the brutal soldier was held suspended in air, with the surprise of the discovery. 'Answer, I bid you," continued the young officer, his frame shaking with passion; "why is this man tormented, and of what regiment are ye?" "We belong to the grenadiers of the brave 47th, your honour," returned one of the bystanders, in an humble, deprecating tone, and we was just polishing this 'ere natural, because as he refuses to drink the health of his majesty." "He's a scornful sinuer, that don't fear his Maker," cried the man in duresse, eagerly bending his face, down which big tears were rolling, towards his protector. Job loves the king, but Job don't love rum!" The officer turned away from the cruel spectacle, as he bid the men untie their prisoner. Knives and fingers were instantly put in requisition, and the man was liberated, and suffered to resume his clothes. During this operation, the tumult and bustle, which had so recently distinguished the riotous scene, were succeeded by a stillness that rendered the hard breathing of the sufferer painfully audible. "Now Sirs, you heroes of the 47th!" said the young man, when the v ctim of their rage was again clad, "know you this button?" The soldier, to whom this question was more particularly addressed, gazed at the extended arm, and, to his vast discomfiture, he beheld the magical number of his own regiment reposing on the well-known white facings that decorated the rich scarlet of the vestment. No one presumed to answer this appeal, and after an impressive silence of a few moments, he continued "Ye are noble supporters of the well-earned fame of 'Wolfe's Own!' fit successors to the gallant men who conquered under the walls of Quebec ! away with ye; to-morrow it shall be looked to." "I hope your honour will remember he refused his majesty's health. I am sure, Sir, that if Colonel Nesbitt was here himself Dog! do you dare to hesitate! go, while you have permission to depart." The disconcerted soldiery, whose turbulence had thus vanished, as if by enchantment, before the frown of their superior, slunk away in a body, a few of the older men whispering to their comrades the name of the officer, who had thus unexpectedly appeared in the midst of them. The angry eye of the young soldier followed their retiring forms, while a man of them was visible; after which, turning to an elderly citizen, who, supported on a crutch, had been a spectator of the scene, he asked "Know you the cause of the cruel treatment this poor man has received? or what in any manner has led to the violence?" "The boy is weak," returned the cripple; quite an innocent, who knows but little good, but does no harm. The soldiers have been carousing in yonder dram-shop, and they often get the poor lad in with them, and sport with his infirmity. If these sorts of doings an't checked, I fear much trouble will grow out of them! Hard laws from t'other side of the water, and tarring and feathering on this, with gentlemen like Colonel Nesbitt at their head, will "It is wisest for us, my friend, to pursue this subject no further," interrupted the officer. "I belong myself to 'Wolf's Own,' and will endeavour to see justice done in the matter; as you will credit when I tell you that I am a Boston boy. But, though a native, a long absence has obliterated the marks of the town from my memory; and I am at a loss to thread these crooked streets. Know you the dwelling of Mrs. Lechmere?" "The house is well known to all in Boston," returned the cripple, in a voice sensibly altered by the information that he was speaking to a townsman. "Job, here, does but little else than run of errands, and he will show you the way out of gratitude. Won't you, Job?" The idiot,-for the vacant eye and unmeaning, boyish countenance of the young man who had just been liberated, but too plainly indicated that he was to be included in that miserable class of human beings,-answered with a caution and reluctance that were a little remarkable, considering the recent circumstances. "Ma'am Lechmere's! Oh! yes, Job knows the way, and could go there blindfolded, if—if—” "If what, you simpleton!" exclaimed the zealous cripple. Why, if 'twas daylight." Blindfolded, and daylight! do but hear the silly child! Come, Job, you must take this gentleman to Tremont-street, without further words. "Tis but just sundown, boy, and you can go there and be home and in your bed before the Old South strikes eight." "Yes; that all depends on which way you go," returned the reluctant changeling. "Now I know, neighbour Hopper, you couldn't go to Maʼam Lechmere's in an hour, if you went along Lynn-street, and so along Prince-street, and back through Spow-hill; and especially if you should stop any time to look at the graves on Copp's." "Pshaw! the fool is in one of his sulks now, with his Copp's-hill and the graves!" interrupted the cripple, whose heart had warmed to his youthful townsman, and who would have volunteered to show the way himself, had his infirmities permitted the exertion. "The gentleman must call the grenadiers back, to bring the child to reason." "Tis quite unnecessary to be harsh with the unfortunate lad," said the young soldier; "my recollections will probably aid me as I advance; and should they not, I can inquire of any passenger I meet." "If Boston was what Boston has been, you might ask such a question of a civil inhabitant, at any corner," said the cripple; "but it's rare to see many of our people in the streets at this hour, since the massacre. Besides, it is Saturday night, you know; a fit time for these rioters to choose for their revelries! For that matter, the soldiers have grown more insolent than ever, since they have met that disappointment about the cannon down at Salem; but I needn't tell such as you what the soldiers are when they get a little savage.' "I know my comrades but indifferently well, if their conduct to-night be any specimen of their ordinary demeanour, Sir," returned the officer; "but follow, Meriton; I apprehend no great difficulty in our path." The pliant valet lifted the cloak-bag he carried, from the ground, and they were about to proceed, when the natural edged himself in a sidelong, slovenly manner, nigher to the gentleman, and looked carnestly up in his face for a moment, where he seemed to be gathering confidence to say"Job will show the officer Ma'am Lechmere's, if the officer won't let the grannies catch Job afore he gets off the North-end ag'in." "Ah!" said the young man, laughing, "there is something of the cunning of a fool in that arrangement. Well, I accept the conditions; but beware how you take me to contemplate the graves by moonlight, or Í shall deliver you not only to the grannies, but to the light infantry, artillery, and all." With this good-natured threat, the officer followed his nimble conductor, after taking a friendly leave of the obliging cripple, who continued his admonitions to the natural, not to wander from the direct route, while the sounds of his voice were audible to the retiring party. The progress of his guide was so rapid as to require the young officer to confine his survey of the narrow and crooked streets through which they passed, to extremely hasty and imperfect glances. No very minute observation, however, was necessary to perceive that he was led along one of the most filthy and inferior sections of the town; and where, notwithstanding his efforts, he found it impossible to recal a single feature of his native place to his remembrance. The complaints of Meriton, who followed close to the heels of his master, were loud and frequent, until the gentleman, a little doubting the sincerity of his intractable conductor, exclaimed— "Have you nothing better than this to show a townsman, who has been absent seventeen years, on his return? Pray let us go through some better strects than this, if any there are in Boston which can be called better." The lad stopped short, and looked up in the face of the speaker for an instant, with an air of undisguised amazement, and then, without replying, he changed the direction of his route, and after one or two more deviations in his path, suddenly turning again, he glided up an alley, so narrow that the passenger might touch the buildings on either side of him. The officer hesitated an instant to enter this dark and crooked passage, |