No, master, no; but the woman you gave me is ill; she can do nothing for me. I am worse off than if I had no wife,' was his reply.

"Then why not take another wife?'

666

666

May I?' said he with animation.

Surely. There is So-and-So: take her.'

"And he took her. But she was not the last; for having, on a journey he undertook for me, picked up another girl, he, with my permission, took her to wife also. And but lately, with my consent, of course, he has taken to a fourth. I passed by his hut the other day. One woman was in the house, nursing her baby; another was preparing the evening meal; another was threading beads, and making a necklace for him; and he was sitting at the feet of the fourth, who was dressing his hair. He looked up at me, as I passed, as much as to say, 'It is all right, master. I am content. I shall not run away again.' It was necessary to give this man the whip first, but now the women will keep him quiet. Should they not,—well, he must have the whip again; for he is a valuable fellow, and I don't mean to part with him easily. Of course, it is better to have children, and educate them to your use; but we cannot always wait for that, and we cannot always afford to buy those who have been trained: we must purchase the raw material, and work it up ourselves; and the process, truly, is not elevating to master or slave. I am not naturally a cruel man. I do not use the whip, unless it be necessary; but the misfortune is, it is necessary,always necessary. I do not disguise that fact; others do; but, take my word for it, I am no worse than any other of the masters in this land."

"But have the masters the power to punish their slaves as they think proper?" inquired I.

"By law, no; practically, yes; that is, in all the outlying settlements, for the law reaches not beyond the shadow of the governor's house. If I lived at Quillimane, or Mozambique, or at Tete, I should have to be discreet; for unless I was at friendship with the governor, he has the power to make me uncomfortable, if I took the law into my own hands. But even there, unless you are at enmity with the authorities, you can get your slaves whipped according to your will, and without incurring the responsibility of your own deeds. The law says, The master who has cause to complain of his slave must bring him before the magistrate, and prove that he is guilty of offence; and then the maristrate shall award the punishment, which shall be administered by the proper officers; but that law was made at Lisbon; it lost its efficacy before it reached these parts. Ask the magistrate to dinner; tell him you want a slave whipped. Very good: I will send my men to you to-morrow; tell them what you wish done, and they will do it,' would be his reply. And if that be the state of things at the centre of authority, what will it be in localities far removed from it? Just what you see here, or worse, as you will judge for yourself."

Upon one other point I interrogated my informant, and that was upon the efforts made to Christianize the natives. This, at one period, was a strong point with the Portuguese. In Prince Henry's time, and long after his death, their zeal for religion was not less than their enthusiasm for geographical enterprise. No expedition left Portugal without a consigament of missionary priests. And so successfully

did these good fathers labor, that in Western Africa whole tribes became professed Christians; and in the east, though the results of their self-sacrificing labors were not so considerable as in the west, they made many converts. I myself have seen, nearly five hundred miles in the inte ror, the ruins of a large missionary establishment, which had once been the centre of a considerable Christian population.

"Efforts to Christianize!" said he: "none are made. We have a law which has much significance. It says, 'It is not lawful to make any Christian a slave.' And the result is, there are no Christians amongst the natives. In the palmy days of the slave-trade, it would have been bad policy to have allowed the missionaries free scope: they would have baptized the people en masse, and cut off our supplies; and, as we could not restrain them, we got rid of them. There has been no missionary work out here for more than two hundred years. The converts died out, having no one to look after them; or their Christianity was not recog nized, and they were enslaved with the rest. It was not convenient, you will perceive, to have native Christians. Our priests nowadays, as missionaries, would as soon think of baptizing a pig as a native. Now and then, however, there is a sort of baptism, and on a large scale." And here the Senhor chuckled at the recollection of what he was about to tell me. "Some time since, a friend of mine wished to migrate to another part of this country, which could only be reached by sea. He had some slaves that he was desirous

of taking with him. The exportation of slaves under any circumstance is illegal. All natives who leave any of our ports are required to produce a certificate of baptism, which of course is conclusive in favor of their being free men, seeing by law no Christian can be a slave. Manifestly, this is a difficulty; but such difficulties, in this country, are easily surmounted. And this is the way in which my friend got over his difficulty. He was staying with me, and I invited the priest to meet him at dinner. We plied the father with brandy, until he was nearly drunk, and then apprised him of the obstacle. Is that all?' said he. Do not trouble: I will smooth the way for you.' And he smoothed it by going to the shed, where the slaves were sleeping, throwing a lot of water over them indiscriminately, and then certifying that he had baptized them. Of course, the slaves were none the wiser for what had been done; and the certificate, when it had answered its purpose, was destroyed. That," concluded the Senhor, "is the only mission-work I ever knew performed by any of our priests; and I leave you to judge of its efficiency."

Some, I

During a period of three years I had abundant opportunity of proving the veracity of the Senhor's statements; and where personal dislike had not led him astray, my experience showed them to be trust orthy. But he by no means exhausted the subject upon which I write. Of the operations of the slave-trade, as carried on by the Portuguese. Livingstone and others have written abundantly. know, have thought their accounts too highly colored; but it is not so. It is impossible to exaggerate the misery and suffering caused by this iniquitous traffic. Wherever it penetrates, villages are burned; men, women, and children are killed or enslaved. I am not a sanguinary man; I abhor bloodshed; I have signed petitions for the abolition of capital punishment; yet I would unhesitatingly sign the warrant that should doom to death by rifle or rope the men who, daring to call themselves Christians, pursue this abɔminable trade. This is not fustian, but the simple expression of a genuine indignation which I cannot but feel, after having witnessed the horrible results of the slave-trade as carried on by the Portuguese.

But though the slave-trade may have received a fitting exposition, the domestic life of the Portuguese in Africa has not, that I am aware of, been delineated; and I shall best describe one phase of it by a brief detail of my own experience in the house of a Senhor B—, with whom I was of necessity for a short time cast; for his mode of living was like unto that of most of his countrymen, who had establishments either on the delta or the banks of the Zambezi. Senhor B- was about thirty-five years of age, but looked

much older: for vicious indulgences had played havoc with his constitution, and prematurely aged him. In this he did not differ from many more; for either from congenital disease, or from the effects of their own depravity, most of the Portuguese in Africa are miserably, hideously afflicted. The Senhor had a farm on the banks of the Zambezi, and occasionally made expeditions for ivory and slaves. He was also "a man under authority," being intrusted by the Government with magisterial powers. He was not of pure blood, but the darker tint in his veins was scarcely visible. His establishment consisted of two houses - one for himself and family, the other for himself and guests; two or three store-sheds, sheds for slaves, and the usual arrangements for goats and sheep. His family consisted of the Senhorina, for the time being, a native woman, the daughter of one of the head men amongst the Colona of the neighborhood, and several children, by various mothers, who called him father. (The Colona, be it said, are the descendants of the original owners of the soil. They are free men, but have submitted to the Portuguese. And for the privilege of occupying the ground on which they live, they are so heavily taxed, and have to render so much personal service, and are in other ways so exposed to exaction and ill-usage, that their condition is scarcely better than that of the slaves.) There were about two hundred slaves on the establishment, most of whom were women and children. Of the women, some were employed about the house, others in the field; of the men, but a few were field-laborers, some were canoemen, and others had special vocations, -were skilled in the use of the gun, were not averse to fighting, and were the unhesitating instruments and trusted agents of the Senhor in all his adventures.

The Senhorina was but a girl in years, and of all the African women I have seen, the most attractive in personal appearance. On my arrival she received me without embarrassment, and was evidently unconscious that I saw in her position any reason for constraint. Of the Senhor she seemed to be in great awe, and his manner towards her was hard and imperious; it contained no recognition of the woman, as such, but only of the inferior creature, who existed by his will, and for his gratification. And this I found was the almost invariable treatment which the Senhorinas received from their lords and masters. In return, she was not gentle with the slaves, and I noticed that with them the Senhor was scrupulously careful to uphold her authority.

The furniture of the establishment was scarce in quantity, and rude in design; but there were indications of wealth in piles of ivory tusks; and a certain barbaric comfort was given to the place by a somewhat profuse display of leopard

skins.

Our food consisted of fowls, excellently dressed, in various ways, goat, sheep, rice, and vegetables. Bad tea, worse coffee, but very good wine and spirits, of which the Senhor had a considerable store. The Senhorina did not feed with the Senhor: she took her meals in her own apartment. Towards the evening she would put on her best apparel: she dressed as native women dress, only in costlier material and with more elaboration, and sat with the Senhor and myself while we smoked in the summer-house.

She was a

heathen, and with no ideas beyond those of her own race; yet she was simple in nature, and faithful in disposition; and, if the Senhor did not tire of her, she would be content to abide with him. Should she be discarded, unless he made arrangements for her to go to some one of his friends, she would return to her own people, and become the wife of a man of her own tribe. Her children, if she had any, would remain with the Senhor; and generally such children are well provided for by the father.

The moral tone of the whole establishment was as low as it could be. I was never in an atmosphere of greater depravity. From the Senhor to the youngest slave, just emerging from babyhood, you could distinguish nothing but foul minds, you heard scarcely any thing but foul words, and saw little else but foul deeds. It seemed as though these people were encircled with evil of the worst conceivable form, until its essence had moulded itself into their very

natures, and they had become the embodiments of unmitigated, uncontrolled wickedness.

But to every depth there is a deeper still; and of this I had an illustration before I left Senhor B. One morning a half-caste, evidently well-to-do in the world, brought a present of fruit and other things to the Senhor; by whom he was received in a manner that, had not the other been in some way in his power, must have given offence. When this man had gone, I said to the Senhor, "You did not treat your friend very civilly."

"Friend!" was his exclamation: "he is no friend of he is a murderer!"

mine,

I was eating one of this man's oranges, and, upon hearing this, dropped it as though it had been hot iron.

"And yet you received his presents! Why not arrest him?" said I.

"This man is not the chief offender: his brother actually committed the murder, while this man did but consent to it, and looked on while it was done. The brother is in hiding, and these presents are made to cause me to shut my eyes to his whereabouts. But I bide my time."

"And pocketed the presents!" I might have answered to this reply; for while the Senhor was talking, he turned over the oranges, and from the bottom of the basket brought out a small calico bag, from whence came a metallic sound, as he put it into his jacket pocket. As he was not willing to give me the details of this crime, I resolved to become acquainted with them through other channels; and it was not long before his major-domo, a gossiping old African, between whose brain and the tip of his tongue there seemed to be a perfect bond of sympathy, put me in possession of them. Said he, "Listen, Senhor, and I will tell you all. The two brothers lived together on a farm not far from here, just round the bend of the river. The elder, not the man that was here yesterday, took a Senhora from the Colona who live near to him. She was young and strong and well; but he is never well, always ill with a sickness that poisons his blood. The mother of the Senhora did not like him; she refused his presents for her daughter, and did not wish that she should go to him: but he took her; and then the mother in her anger cursed him with many bad words. Soon after, the Senhora becomes ill, and she remains ill until her child is born. The child is like its father, full of sickness, and dies in a few days. The mother of the Senhora tells all people that the sickness of her daughter and the death of the child is the fault of the father; he swears that it is because of her curse, and vows that if the next child be the same as the firstborn, he will be revenged. Time passes, Senhor; another child is born, in a worse condition than the other,- so bad that the father, when he saw it, threw it into the river. The mother of the Senhora is still very angry: she makes use of many bad words against the Senhor, and he declares that she has bewitched him, and will kill her. He and his brother watch for her; they catch her; they tie her to a tree, and beat her until she is nearly dead; then the Senhor, the brother of the man who came here, unties her, drags her to the river, and throws her in. No more is seen of her, for the crocodiles are plentiful. All this is true, Senhor, very true."

"But how was this all discovered?"

"Some Colona heard the woman's screams, saw her beaten and then thrown into the water, Senhor."

B

If this were an exceptional case of crime, and if Senhor -'s establishment were of an exceptionally bad character, I should not have brought them forward; but they fairly illustrate the condition of things as exhibited in the domestic life of most of the Portuguese who occupy isolated positions on the delta and the banks of the Zambezi.

I was personally much obliged for the hospitality of Senhor B; yet I was thankful to leave him, for when I was again amongst the unsophisticated natives I felt I was within a purer moral atmosphere.

In the towns a somewhat better state of things prevails. The proprieties of life are not shamelessly outraged, and outwardly law and order are maintained. Before I left Africa, I had the opportunity of becoming personally acquainted with Tete, Quillimane, and Mozambique. I went

to Tete with a friend, who was striving as a geologist to enrich the realm of science. I was engaged in the interests of another kingdom. We had to walk nearly two hundred miles, through a difficult country, somewhat infested with wild beasts, before we reached our destination. Tete is the head-quarters of the slave-trade, and I took with me several men who had been rescued by myself and friends from the slave-dealers, as they were being taken to Tete; and never have I had a greater proof of confidence than that given by those men, who with full knowledge of the character of the men of Tete, volunteered to accompany me.

When we came in sight of the town we halted, to make ourselves presentable to the inhabitants of so important a place; and, to my surprise and amusement, my native allies arrayed themselves in calico trousers, which they had made on the road. Now, I know there is no essential connection between Christianity and trousers, and nobody but a fool would think there was; but in that part of the world there is between trousers and freedom. No slave is permitted to wear trousers by the Portuguese; and when my men entered Tete with us, they proclaimed themselves free men by their nether garments. My friend had been to Tete before, and upon a trying emergency had received much kindness from a merchant there; for frequently you find in these Portuguese great generosity, existing with an utter absence of principle; and to this man's house our steps were directed. We were made welcome; and, not having room for us in his own home, he assigned to our use an empty house, of which he was the owner.

One man

Tete is situated on the south bank of the Zambezi, and is backed by Mt. Caroera, a hill of sandstone, destitute of all vegetation, and about three thousand feet high. The houses are large, well built, and of stone. The fortifications are contemptible. The soil in the town and about the town is brown and barren of verdure; but cattle were feeding upon the stunted herbage by the river-side. The Tete merchants generally come from Goa, or are the descendants of Goa men. As a rule, they have but little capital, and they make desperate ventures to realize a fortune. Sometimes they succeed; more frequently they fail. was pointed out to me who hid become an infidel because Providence had not favored his attempts to get rich. For a time all went well with him. Ivory was gained, and found a profitable market; slaves were obtained for little, and disposed of for much. Then he gathered his strength for a crowning effort, and visions of ease, and plenty in Europe, delighted him. He ventured all he had in the world, and more, for he borrowed money from his friends. He took with him an army of retainers, and plunged into the interior. For a time all went well with him; but success made him imprudent; he plundered where he might have bought; he seized with violence men, women, and children, where he might have had them in barter; and when he was returning, laden with spoil, he found his way barred by the hostility of the natives he had made his enemies. In the conflicts which ensued, he lost all his booty, his slaves and retainers were killed or dispersed, and he hardly escaped with his own life. He returned to Tete a ruined man, sick and wounded; and, in disgust with Providence, renounced Christianity, and, with other fools, said in his heart, "There is no God."

Tete is a garrison town, and the soldiers were of three classes, natives, Europeans who are convicts, and Europeans of good character. The officers were Europeans, and, for the most part, gentlemen.

There were but two or three European women at Tete, - the wife of the governor, and the wives of one or two of the soldiers. The half-caste women were more numerous, and bore a bad reputation.

The Governor of Tete was not popular: he was a reformer, and too much of a gentleman for the majority of the inhabitants. He enforced law, and made nefarious practices difficult; and he was hated accordingly. Hatred begets the desire for revenge; and, in revenge for being compelled to act justly, one merchant swore he would seduce the governor's daughter, and nearly succeeded in doing so. Altogether, his position was a very unenviable one, for a

more reprobate set of desperados than the generality of the Tete people it would be difficult to find.

The last incident in my life at Tete it is difficult to forget. We were to commence the return journey on the morrow. I gave my men a goat, in order that they might feast with the friends they had made. They feasted in the yard at the back of the house we occupied. I had dined with the governor that night, and on returning to our house found my men in a state of indignation. The cause was this: they had invited a boy who fetched them water to partake of their good cheer. He was the slave of a peddling huckster in the place, who, hearing of what his slave was doing, came to the house, and caught him in the act of eating a piece of meat. He seized him by the throat, and nearly strangled him; he beat him about the head and face until he was not recognizable; he threw him down and jumped upon him; and wherefore? Because he had dared to eat animal food. Said he, when he went away, after throwing the child apparently lifeless into a corner of the yard, "I told him not to eat meat. He shall not eat meat. Meat makes the creatures proud."

The child revived, and so far recovered during the night as to be able to be removed. And some of my men took him across the river, placed him in hiding, picked him up next day, and brought him on with us; but, being too injured to walk at once, they made a rough kind of palanquin, in which they helped him forward.

The time came for me to leave Africa, and I was again at the mouth of the Zambezi, where a ship was expected to take off any Englishmen who were ready for departure. For weeks I watched for this ship, less anxious for myself than for a friend with me, who was all but dead with fever. The ship came, and my friend's delight, when from my shoulders he saw it approach, was excessive; but not seeing our signal, she sent in no boat; and then his heart was nearly broken, as he beheld her sail away, again. To give him a chance of life, I resolved to take him up the Zambezi again as far as Mazaro, a distance of a hundred miles; and from thence, by way of the Naquaqu River, proceed to Quillimane, where I hoped to find some vessel which would convey us to some port more within hail of English ships than the Zambezi. We had been the guests of Senhor A. He helped us in every way he could, and, finding that I had no money, forced upon me thirty pounds out of fifty pounds of pay he had just received. I was able to return it before I left Quillimane, and with it letters of introduction to friends, in case he should ever try to leave his wretched life in Africa, and wanted the opportunity to make a fresh and a better start in England. Poor fellow! my hopes for him were not realized; for soon after I left, he was removed to Mozambique, where he died.

The general appearance of Quillimane is far from displeasing. The houses are backed or surrounded by gardens, in which are orange and other trees; and groves of cocoanut palms, judiciously planted, give to the whole place that peculiar charm which that tree alone imparts. Yet upon all there seems the spirit of ruin and decay. Everywhere you see symptoms of that deterioration of character, that indifference to honest, manly pursuits, which is invariably associated with slavery. Of the past of this place, it were scarcely possible to speak: it has had terrible antecedents. Outwardly, however, the present life of Quillimane seems less obnoxious than I had been led to expect. There are several respectable families in the town, and they are sufficiently influential to give tone to the rest. I became ac quainted with the priests: they were men of very inferior capacity; and from what I saw of them I had no difficulty in believing, with Senhor A., that virtuous precept from their mouths would be sheer mockery.

A small ship which traded between Quillimane and Mozambique was almost ready for sailing when we arrived. We took passages in her, as at Mozambique it was almost certain that we should soon fall in with one of the British cruisers. We slept on board the night before she sailed, and early in the morning four soldiers, accompanied by a civilian, who used an umbrella to shield his person from the rays of the rising sun, brought down a slave to the

whipping-post, which was not far from our moorings After binding him to the post, the soldiers, two on and two off, as they tired, beat him with rods made of hippopotamus hide, a single blow from which seems almost sufficient to ruin an ordinary muscle. I counted more than five hundred stripes, and then, - -"He is dead," was the careless comment of one of the passengers standing beside me. He may have been, I do not know: I dare say he was, for this passenger was doubtless a good judge of such matters; but I do know that as I looked on, I thought,- What a good thing it would be to send the master (the man with the umbrella) as well as the slave, to meet at one and the same moment the consequences of their acts in the regions of eternity. And I felt angry, God forgive me! that I could not take this act of vengeance upon myself.

I came to Mozambique with every disposition to think favorably of it. For twenty days we had knocked about the Mozambique Channel, in a dirty little ship, filled with dirty men, whose minds and habits were as foul as their persons. I had been compelled to endure bad food and worse accommodation; for having to choose between a a pestiferous berth below, in company with men who excited nausea to look at them, and a corner of the deck, where I might sleep like a dog in a kennel, I chose the latter. I longed for land, and with it release from my vile imprisonment; and when we sighted Mozambique, I rejoiced greatly. Mozambique certainly is the most important monument of the bygone glory of the Portuguese in Eastern Africa; and as you approach it from the sea it still seems invested with an atmosphere of grandeur. But "'tis distance lends enchantment to the view," for the Portuguese neglect drainage; and it is impossible to regard as beautiful any place or thing from whence proceeds the most abominable odors. There is at Mozambique a semblance of power and an affectation of commercial energy. But considering the advantages of its position, the many years it has been in the possession of the Portuguese, and the monopoly of trade which they have jealously held, the result is most contemptible. The export of slaves being illegal, one source of profit is lost to the people of Mozambique; yet instead of exerting themselves to develop the revenues of the mainland, one of the richest and might be most productive districts of this part of Africa, and to the furtherance of a legitimate trade, they scheme to evade the law, to keep up an illicit commerce in human beings, and will risk life and fortune in this not frequently profitable traffic; for it is rarely that a cargo of slaves from Portuguese territory escapes the vigilance of our cruisers. When I was at Mozambique, four large Spanish ships were off the coast, nominally for rice, in reality for slaves, which were ready for shipment at various stations; but so closely were they watched by our ships that they not only failed to secure their cargoes, but two of them were seized, on suspicion of being slavers, and were condemned as such. I do not venture to tax the Portuguese officials with connivance in these cases; yet I have heard it said repeatedly, by men who were avowedly interested in such ventures, that without their connivance the trade would be absolutely impossible; and without the bribes which they receive on such occasions, it would be impossible for them to acquire the wealth with which they are frequently known to retire from office.

We had not been at Mozambique long before a man-of-war came into port, the captain of which received us on board; and never felt I more proud of my nationality than when first I stood on the deck of that ship.

As Mozambique faded from my view, I thought, what a gain it would be to the cause of humanity if the Portuguese in Africa could be suddenly blotted from existence, even though no other civilized power occupied their places for centuries to come. That they can for long maintain their present position, seems very improbable. Since I was there they have lost much territory and prestige. Bonga, a native chief, and the son of a man who once sacked Tete, but was himself afterwards defeated, has improved upon his father's proceedings, and has utterly destroyed Tete and all other Portuguese establishments thereabouts. In vain have troops in great numbers been sent from Europe

to recover the position: all attempts to do so have failed; the Portuguese have been again and again ignominiously beaten. They now hold nothing but their places on the coast; but from Quillimane they may be driven any day by the Landeens; and so contemptible are their defences elsewhere, that the crew of a single British man-of-war would be amply sufficient to dislodge them from every other position.

I saw in the papers, lately, an announcement that the Portuguese were making a road to the diamond diggings from Inhambane, in the hope of drawing trade to that place. The country about Inhambane has great capacity; cotton might be grown there to any extent, and many other things also that are in general demand and fetch high prices; but I trust no Englishmen will be deluded by the above announcement to make trial of this Portuguese road, for if they do they will surely repent it. The Portuguese in Africa are not given to road-making, or to any other occupation that requires hard work, manly energy, and patient endurance. I have not misrepresented them as I found them, so I have described them; and my description will, I fear, hold good of them, wherever in Africa they may be found.

LITTLE POLLY PILKERTON.

OLD PILKERTON-old by virtue of his being Polly's father-kept a saddler's shop in Long Acre. He was the third generation which had dealt in pig-skin, and had been duly apprenticed to his father, who, in his turn, had served his own father, and had been dutifully instructed in the art and mystery of making saddles. The Pilkerton saddle had a good name, and the artists who built them knew their own work. The shop was excellently kept, a pleasant, large room, smelling of new leather, glittering with new bits, curbs, and snaffles, and ornamented with a finely-carved head of a horse, upon which the Pilkerton head-stall, worked curiously and with a multiplicity of stitches, was exhibited to perfection. Herein old Pilkerton received his customers, gentlemen of large estates, masters of hounds, young heirs, who took an interest in hunting and in horses, and fair ladies, who would step from their carriages to see their sidesaddles built.

Pilkerton was a handsome, dark man, on the right side of forty-five, bald-headed, well-shaven, and with a neat black whisker. His manner was that of a sound, honest English tradesman. Quickly deferential in taking orders, firm and manly in pointing out what could and should be done, and of that kind which generally won its own way. "Leave that to me, sir," he would say. "I have worked in leather more than five and twenty years; and I know what can be done with it."

The saddler was a widower: his only daughter Polly, rising twenty, had been well educated at the Misses Blumberry's establishment, near Bedford Square, was an adept at music, and had carried off two or three prizes in French. On the whole, she was superior in accomplishments to the general run of tradesmen's daughters, and was soberly religious, being a Wesleyan, and a Sunday-school teacher.

As a rule, tradesmen who mind their shop find that their shop minds them, and have at their banker's plenty of money to fall back upon in the rainy day. But there are exceptions. Pilkerton was one. He was, just as the story opens, subject to a run of ill-luck. His banker had "broken;" and, in breaking, broke some hundreds of smaller men into little pieces. The old saddler, however, weathered the storm. The shop did not look less bright and workmanlike, but it had less stock in it; Pilkerton was in debt to his leather-seller, had to send in his own bills at an earlier date; and, instead of a clerk, Polly, who never saw her father's customers before, came into and ornamented the little glass case which served for a counting-house, and kept his books.

When sorrows come, they come not single spies. Pilkerton the saddler tried to hold his own; and seeing a contract from a great house for saddlery, sent in - and blessed his luck when he got it!

The great Earl of Sangpur, a military nobleman, who devoted himself to his regiment, the Redlegs, a dashing light cavalry corps,- determined to astonish the world. He had invented a new demipique saddle; and, as the Government looked coldly on it, had obtained from his Royal Highness the Commander-in-Chief the great favor of presenting the whole regiment with new saddles. H.R.H. looked upon this craze with a kindly pity; but the earl had proved himself a household soldier to the backbone, and had once added twenty pounds per man to the regulation price of the horses of the regiment. Sangpur was beloved by the men, but hated by his officers, whom he put to all manner of expense. "What does a fellah," he once said, "do in my regiment with less than three thousand a year?” and the question was unanswerable.

Messrs. Moses, Macbeth, & Co., the well-known army clothiers of St. James's Street, took the contract. English society will not allow the real workers to do such large jobs without a middle-man. Moses, Macbeth, & Co., thereon sent round to various saddlers, and Pilkerton whose name stood very high-was selected to carry out the order of "seven hundred and fifty saddles, as per sample."

"We've got the best man in the 'orld, mi lud," said little Moses (a red-headed Israelite, with a Roman nose and a heavy mustache, dressed in the most perfect civil-military costume). He had originally been a tailor at Chatham, but had prospered-in spite of two bankruptcies, which illnatured persons said made his fortune.

"Who is he?"

"Pilkerton, of Long Acre."

"He'll do," said the earl, who knew the saddler's fame in the hunting-field. Why then did he not give the order to Pilkerton ? This is one of the mysteries of trade.

"We've got to find him the money," said Mr. Moses, with a jeer. "These good workmen are so poor." "You can draw, Mr. Moses, when part of the order is executed," said the nobleman kindly.

Moses, Macbeth, & Co., did draw; poor Pilkerton did

not.

Like an old-fashioned tradesman, he liked to have his money in a lump, and had a pious horror of prepayment. His spirits rose with his luck, and he worked bravely at his

contract.

The Wesleyan minister, under whom little Polly Pilkerton sat, was the Rev. Samuel Stoker; a pious man, who did not disdain to sport an American degree of D.D. Dr. Stoker had prospered, lived in Bedford Square, had a son who was in a good position in the Metropolitan and Provincial Bank, and a daughter who, when poor Pilkerton lost his money, tried to help Polly by taking music lessons from her. Miss Stoker was very stupid, but very good natured; and Polly was delighted. So was young Samuel Stoker, who delighted in his second name of Keach, — Keach Stoker, Esq.,- he was named after a celebrated divine, who had expounded the prophecies.

Keach Stoker was fond of music; went every Saturday to the Crystal Palace concerts, and returned so late that he was never seen at his father's chapel. It is a way with clergymen's sons, as well as with those of pious nonconformists. Sally Stoker, named Sarah after the wife of the patriarch, and born in days before D.D. ornamented her father's name, mourned over this; and the preacher himself improved the occasion in his celebrated "Lectures to Young Men," on what Keach called profanely the "Double Event;" that is, on "Making a Bank in both Worlds." But Keach dressed fashionably, rose in his bank, shook his head when any one talked about marrying, said he was a beggar on five hundred a year, and so he was a beggar, in slatecolored kid gloves, splendidly-cut trousers, a glossy hat, and unexceptionable boots.

This did not this miserable state of poverty, I mean hinder him from making covert love to Polly. When Polly gave her evening lessons, Keach, who was more than suspected of having been seen at theatres and promenade concerts, managed to stay at home, to the great delight of Sally and the D.D. He even joined in family prayer, carefully kneeling down on a scented pocket-handkerchief. He

was a universal favorite, this young fellow; so sober, so staid, yet so awake to all the doings of the world. His father, in spite of his absence from chapel, and his presence in a new very high church, where he could leave before the sermon, looked upon him with high favor.

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Keach, on his part, coached his father up on the state of the funds; and had he advised Pilkerton, would have saved him from his losses. When the D.D.'s congregation, upon the conclusion of a ministry of twenty years, presented him with a silver teapot and six hundred sovereigns, Keach took his father aside, made him spend all the six hundred in Egyptians," and in two months after sell out at a premium which made six into eight. Then he split the eight into two parts, and divided them equally between "Russians" and "Turks;" both went up, the first the more rapidly; and when Dr. Stoker thought fit to retire, Keach congratu lated the pater, as he called him, upon having a neat little "thou," a pet abbreviation with city men for a thousand. "You were quite right to sell just before dividends, pater. 'Egyptians' don't stand quite so well ex div."

"I don't touch the interest," said old Stoker: "it smacks of usury."

Quite right, sir," said Keach, paring his nails: "I will tell you always when to sell out, and when to buy in." Why not?" he whispered to himself: "it will come to me some day."

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So Keach Stoker, Esq., rising at his bank, and beloved at home, prospered with everybody except Polly Pilkerton. The reason was not far to seek.

Almost every evening, except on those of the music les sons, young Benjamin Mansell, who also sat under the great Stoker, and made his boots, came round ostensibly to talk about the leather market and the price of skins, but in reality to look at Polly Pilkerton. Old Mansell and old Pilkerton were boyhood's friends; but the saddler, consorting with a higher class of customers, had learned to look down on the bootmaker.

In his "line" Mansell was as good a workman as Pilkerton; so there could be no reason for this show of pride. But when has pride a reason? Old Mansell, a thoughtful man, like his son, and bootmakers in general, smoked his pipe, thought that his friend "showed a stiff upper lip," and said nothing. Young Mansell, on the contrary, felt the slight, and would have resented it; but he was over head and ears in love with Polly. Love makes a man swallow a good deal. Ben thought that he was not fine enough, and therefore improved himself, both mentally and as far as bodily adornment went. He was a fine, manly young fellow; thoughtful and observant, and determined to win his way. He did not take a bad way to do it. Polly observed his improvement, put his motives with the unerring perception of women when they are themselves concerned, down to the right cause, and liked him all the better for it.

"I can't think why you encourage that young shoemaker, Polly?"

"He is a bootmaker, father and we are but saddlers." "Bootmakers and shoemakers are all the same 'snobs!'" said old Pilkerton bitterly. The loss of his money had made him very cynical; and his darling wish was to marry his daughter to a man who was not only rich, but above his own station in life.

"Snob or not," said Polly, coloring at the insult, "he is more polite to you than Mr. Keach Stoker."

Both were thinking of the same person at the time. "Ah! that is a man!" said Pilkerton, with gusto. “He's sure to rise in the world."

"I hope he will," said Polly, tossing her head. That same evening she consoled young Ben by going out to walk with him, round Russell Square and down by what old Pilkerton called the "Fondling." She had a will of her own, this Polly.

""Tain't quite a proper place for a young lady to walk, it's so lonely," said her father.

"Law! and you and mother used to go a courting round there when London wasn't half so full," said Polly, with a laugh, holding up her face for her father to kiss. "I can take care of myself; and Ben and I have walked and