former, even if I wasn't forced upon it. Give
me out through the trumpet, in the hold way,
tomorrow."

Arter that, he slid into the line again as
easy as if he had been iled all over. But, the
organ was kep from him, and no allusions
was ever made, when a company was in, to
his property. He got wiser every day; his
views of Society and the Public was luminous,
bewilderin, awful; and his Ed got
bigger and bigger as his Wisdom
expanded it.

He took well, and pulled 'em in most
excellent fur nine weeks. At the expiration of
that period, when his Ed was a sight, he
expressed one evenin, the last Company havin
been turned out, and the door shut, a wish to
have a little music.

"Mr. Chops," I said (I never dropped the
"Mr." with Idiu; the world might do it, but
not me); "Mr. Chops, are you sure as you
are in a state of mind and body to sit upon
the organ?"

His answer was this: "Toby, when next
met with on the tramp, I forgive her and the
Indian. And I am."

It was with fear and trembling that I began
to turn the handle; but he sat like a lamb.
It will be my belief to my dying day, that I
see his Ed expand as he sat; you may therefore
judge how great his thoughts was. He
sat out all the changes, and then he come off.

"Toby," he says, with a quiet smile, " the
little man will now walk three times round
the Cairawan, and retire behind the curtain."

When we called him in the morning, we
found him gone into a much better Society
than mine or Pall Mall's. I giv Mr. Chops
as comfortable a funeral as lay in my power,
followed myself as Chief, and had the George
the Fourth canvass carried first, in the form
of a banner. But, the House was so dismal
arterwards, that I giv it up, and took to the
Wan again.

—-

"I don't triumph," said Jarber, folding up
the second manuscript, and looking hard at
Trottle. " I don't triumph over this worthy
creature. I merely ask him if he is
satisfied now?"

"How can he be anything else? " I said,
answering for Trottle, who sat obstinately
silent. "This time, Jarber, you have not
only read us a delightfully amusing story,
but you have also answered the question
about the House. Of course it stands empty
now. Who would think of taking it after
it had been turned into a caravan? " I
looked at Trottle, as I said those last words,
and Jarber waved his hand indulgently in
the same direction.

"Let this excellent person speak," said
Jarber. " You were about to say, my good
man? "—

"I only wished to ask, sir," said Trottle,
i doggedly, "if you could kindly oblige me with
a date or two, in connection with that last
story?"

"A date! " repeated Jarber. " What does
the man want with dates!"

"I should be glad to know, with great
respect," persisted Trottle, " if the person
named Magsman was the last tenant who
lived in the House. It's my opinion—if
I may be excused for giving it—that he most
decidedly was not."

With those words, Trottle made a low
bow, and quietly left the room.

There is no denying that Jarber, when
we were left together, looked sadly discomposed.
He had evidently forgotten to
inquire about dates; and, in spite of his
magnificent talk about his series of
discoveries, it was quite as plain that the two
stories he had just read, had really and truly
exhausted his present stock. I thought
myself bound, in common gratitude, to help
him out of his embarrassment by a timely
suggestion. So I proposed that he should
come to tea again, on the next Monday
evening, the thirteenth, and should make
such inquiries in the meantime, as might
enable him to dispose triumphantly of
Trottle's objection.

He gallantly kissed my hand, made a neat
little speech of acknowledgment, and took
his leave. For the rest of the week I would
not encourage Trottle by allowing him to
refer to the House at all. I suspected he
was making his own inquiries about dates,
but I put no questions to him.

On Monday evening, the thirteenth, that
dear unfortunate Jarber came, punctual to
the appointed time. He looked so terribly
harassed, that he was really quite a spectacle
of feebleness and fatigue. I saw, at a glance,
that the question of dates had gone against
him, that Mr. Magsman had not been the
last tenant of the House, and that the reason
of its emptiness was still to seek.

"What I have gone through," said Jarber,
"words arc not eloquent enough to tell. Oh,
Sophonisba, I have begun another series of
discoveries! Accept the last two as stories
laid on your shrine; and wait to blame me
for leaving your curiosity uuappeased, until
you have heard Number Three."

Number Three looked like a very short
manuscript, and I said as much. Jarber
explained to me that we were to have
some poetry this time. In the course of his
investigations he had stepped into the Circulating
Library, to seek for information on the
one important subject. All the Library-people
knew about the House was, that a
female relative of the last tenant as they
believed, had, just after that tenant left,
sent a little manuscript poem to them which
she described as referring to events that had
actually passed in the House; and which she
wanted the proprietor of the Library to publish.
She had written no address on her letter;
and the proprietor had kept the manuscript