had him brought here, Esther. I knew you 'd
wish it—and he would have wished it too ! "

This was Esther Hammond's wedding-day!
Was not this sorrow enough for one poor
house?

Violent in her feelings and affections,
Hannah never recovered. Her reason became
impaired, and she was released from her sufferings
by a death that none could venture to
lament. Jackson's creditors having laid claim
to the whole of the property in consequence
of Hammond's bond, the young people, eager
to fly the scene of so much woe, took the
advice of their friend, Mr. Grindlay, and
came to seek a maintenance in London.

So ends my tragic little story. I have
only to add, that the proposed plan of
emigration was carried out, to the infinite advantage
of the two young people, and very much
to the satisfaction of Mr. Jameson.

THE ROVING ENGLISHMAN.

A BRACE OF BLUNDERS.

I ARRIVED at Bayonne from Paris, by the
Malle-Poste, one glorious morning. How
well I remember it! The courier, who used
to play an important part in the economy of
the old French Malle-Poste, was the most
irritable man I ever saw. He quarrelled with
everyone and everything on the road. I fancy
that he was liable to some slight penalty in
case of reaching Bayonne later than a given
hour; but had the penalty been breaking on
the wheel, he could not have been more
anxious to drive at full speed. Here let me
note, by the way, that the pace of a French
courier in the good old times was the most
tremendous pace at which I have ever
travelled behind horses. It surpassed the helter-
skelter of an Irish mail. The whole economy
of the Malle-Poste was curious. No postilion
ever drove more than one stage: mortal arms
could not have continued flogging any farther.
The number of the horses was indefinite—now
there were four; presently five, or six, or seven;
four again, or eight; all harnessed with broken
bits of rope and wonders of fragmentary
tackle. The coach-box on which the
postilion used to sit was the minutest iron
perch to which the body of a man could hook
itself. The coach itself was britzka-shaped,
with room for two. It was in this
conveyance that I travelled over the frightful
hills between Bourdeaux and Bayonne.
When we neared any descent a mile or
two long, the postilion regularly tied the
reins loosely to some part of the frail box,
seized the whip, and flogged, and shouted,
until down we went with a great rush,
dashing and rocking from, side to side, while
my irate friend, the courier, plied a sort of iron
drag or rudder, with the enthusiastic gestures
of a madman. "Watching my time, when, after
one of these frantic bouts, my friend sank
back exhausted, and quite hoarse with all his
roaring, I quietly offered him a bunch of
grapes, which I had bought at Tours. Their
grateful coolness made the man my friend
eternally ; but had I offered him a captain's
biscuit at that moment I could not have
answered for the consequences. So much
depends on judgment in the timing of a
gift !

On arrival at Bayonne, the first notable
thing I saw was a gendarme, who asked me
for my passport. I had none. He looked
grave, but I, young in travel, pushed him
aside cavalierly, and bade my servant, who
had arrived the day before, see to my luggage.
The cocked hat followed me into the inn, but
bidding it be off, I walked into a private
sitting room, in which a bed was a prominent
article of furniture. I ordered for my breakfast
some broiled ham and eggs, and was
informed that I could not have ham, though
in Bayonne. I should be served with chocolate
and sugar-sticks, pump-water, and milk
bread. While breakfast was preparing, the
cocked hat arrested me, and marched me off
to the police-office.

"Your passport?" said the Inspector.

"My breakfast," said I.

"You are under arrest," said the Inspector.

Then I referred to the Consul, with
whom I had a sort of second-hand
acquaintance, and who offered to provide
me with a passport; but his offer was
declined. I was conducted to the Prefêt. The
Prefêt transferred me to the Procureur du
Roi, whom I unhappily disturbed when he
was sitting down to breakfast. I apologised
for my unavoidable intrusion.

"Pray, don't mention it," said he; "I take
cold fish for breakfast, and iced coffee; " so
he sat down and listened to my tale, and
said that I must be detained.

"Impossible!" I cried. " I have sent on my
money and baggage to Madrid."

"Many political agitators have slipped
through Bayonne," replied the Procureur.
"Write to Lord Hervey. When a passport
comes for you from Paris you can pass the
frontier; not before."

Of course he said he was " desolated," as
he bowed me out. I was at liberty to reside at
the hôtel, under the lacqueyship of two gens-
d'armes, who waited on me night and day. A
crowd had gathered to witness my return
from the house of the Procureur, and ladies
thronged the balconies. Rumour had, in fact,
created me Conde de Montemolin!

Henceforth, until my passport came, I was
peeped at through all manner of doors by all
manner of men, and encountered accidentally
in passages by all manner of women; one
band hindered me from sleeping in my bed,
another played to me at dinner, and both
expected payment for their services, until the
passport came, and brought me so much
degradation as enabled me to step, uncared
for, into the common diligence, and travel on.

It has occurred to many other people to be