"O, Sir Octavius, he never wrote any letter to me; we were always close enough together for conversation."

"Dare you trifle with me ?-Mr. Sorsbey, the cat.-I mean, sir, the letter that Mr. Astell wrote to his mother."

"I don't know what letter you allude to, Sir Octavius."

"How dare you to lie, sir, on an occasion so solemn as is this? -to lie almost over the dead body of your messmate;-the letter, sir, immediately."

"O, sir, the occasion, as you say, sir, is too awful for guilty lying; I now do remember something about a note-Is that the letter that you mean, sir?"

"You begin to remember, do you?-I mean the letter, sir, that Mr. Astell gave you for his mother, just before he accidentally fell overboard."

"That letter,-0, that letter, Sir Octavius. I hope, sir, with all submission, that you do not think that I would tell a lie on this solemn occasion any more than yourself, Sir Octavius. That letter accidentally fell overboard too, sir."

"Destruction! does a boy like this dare to mock me? Where is the boatswain? Mr. Sorsbey, bring the cat directly."

"You may flog me, Sir Octavius, if you like; but depend upon it I will not jump overboard," said the little mutineer, quite composedly.

"If you please, Sir Hoctivehus," said the boatswain, with a scrape of the foot, and a bow of the head; "if you please, sir, yesterday -in the shindy and confuscation yesterday,-the michimite's cat fell overboard by accident."

"Get the thief's cat!-no-gentlemen, leave me, all but Mr. Alsop and Mr. Danvers."

The Commodore again sank almost lifelessly upon his sofa. Well did he divine of what fatal importance that letter would become to him. Suffering as he did, he made every effort to recover it. He first sent for the master-at-arms and the most intelligent of the ship's corporals to search the boxes and the desks of Mr. Danvers, and then every chink and orifice in the midshipman's berth, not permitting the younker to leave his sight during the process. When this proved fruitless, he had his person thoroughly overhauled, and with no better success. Both the Commodore and the first lieutenant then did all they could by cajolery to get it from him, but he pertinaciously maintained that he had it not; and the only confession that they could extort from him was, that, suspecting for what he had been sent for into his cabin, he had, as he came up, thrown it out of one of the lower-deck ports. With this the wretched baronet was forced to appear satisfied.

The next day he anchored with his weather-worn squadron at Spithead, the most miserable man upon the face of the earththough he was afloat, we will not correct the expression, for, at

Spithead, at least, there is earth under the waters, whatever waters there may be elsewhere under the earth.

Is not the whole of this chapter one great moral lesson to all who are put in authority?

CHAPTER VII.

"You have not apparell'd your fury well,
It goes too grand and seems an acted pageant.
Lady.
"It is an ornament
Makes it more terrible, and you shall find it
A weighty injury, and attended on

By fitting vengeance."

DEVIL'S LAWCASE, BY WEBSTER,

Whilst the Commodore, a prey to every bitter feeling, and perfectly afraid to show his face before any of his own family, was endeavouring to dispel all reflection by the energy with which he was refitting his squadron, we must now repair with our friend, the reader-for, by this time, we know that we have made him our fast and good friend—with him then we must repair to Trestletree-hall. April had just commenced with its alternate smiles and tears, and the long twilight was shedding a mist, balmy with the blossoms of the fruit-trees, around the old and large mansion. Though not cold enough to require it, a clear fire enlivened the drawing-room, and, as no one seemed to think it necessary, candles had not yet been ordered. This large room is occupied, in the first place, by the stately and still very beautiful Lady Astell, and Miss Matilda Bacuissart, looking very lady-like, very pretty, and extremely delicate. The other female was Miss Rebecca, our sad old Commodore's daughter, behaving with a great deal of propriety, as this was the period in which she benefited much by the control and the example of her aunt Astell. The fourth person was a gentleman, our quiet and intelligent friend, Mr. Underdown, whom we left in ill health at Rio Janeiro, but who, not having had to chase a flying squadron, had arrived in England perfectly recovered, about a fortnight before.

Lady Astell had only arrived to dinner, full of the intelligence of the anchoring at Spithead of the Commodore's flying squadron, and in a violent trepidation between joy and fear, expecting every moment to hear the clattering of horses' hoofs, and the riot of chariot-wheels, bearing her brother and her only son to her arms. She had travelled post with Mr. Underdown to Trestletree-hall to meet them.

Five months had now elapsed since the titles and estates of her

husband's family had devolved upon her son Augustus. She fondly hoped to be the first person to communicate to him this news, the first to hail him as the Earl of Osmondale, which natural wish the wilful Miss Rebecca had most wickedly resolved to defeat, even if by so doing she were trampled under the horses' feet.

Altogether, it was an hour of great excitement. Every one was restless, and hardly reasonable, if we except Mr. Underdown, who, every now and then, they all thought ill-naturedly, and for him most ill-naturedly, threw in very unpalatable doubts as to the arrival of the expected uncle and his nephew that evening. He did not much regard Miss Matilda when she said that he was unreasonable, and only laughed when Rebecca called him cross, and threatened to purloin his book; but, upon his saying with a studious carelessness, that they had better give up all hopes of the truants that night, Lady Astell threw upon him a look so reproachful, that he felt it to the heart, and immediately commenced talking of the fête that had been long in preparation, to welcome the young lord to his tenantry and the family estates.

They were soon again on the long disputed point as to whether Augustus should be drawn in a triumphal car through his park by twenty young farmers, who had requested to be allowed thus to show their respect, but upon the propriety of which exhibition his mother had some doubts, as savouring too much of vain pageantry on the one hand, and debasement on the other. Miss Rebecca was strongly for the car and the young peasants, as she secretly promised herself a place beside him. Matilda was also of her opinion, whilst Mr. Underdown allowed the car, but disallowed the men harnessed to it; he recommended four white ponies, and as many young men as chose to walk beside them, whilst his mother really cared little about how he entered his future home, provided only that he came.

"I'm sure it can't be any debasement to the men," said Rebecca, tossing back her clustering ringlets with the prettiest little disdain imaginable; "for Gusty-I should say the Earl of Osmondalehas every often drawn me about in the garden-chair, and I have seen the Earl himself make a back for half an hour together, for the village lads at fly-foot, and get his dear back well thumped too with their huge brown fists, as they went striddle-straddle over him." "Striddle-straddle! my dear Becky," said the gentle Matilda; "I think the word is not very pretty on the lips of a lady."

"Fiddle-de-dee, aunty! what am I to say when I see a parcel of young men open▬▬’

"Turn your head on one side and say nothing at all-both leapfrog and fly-foot are very vulgar games-I wonder that the young scions of the aristocracy condescend to demean themselves by playing at it. Don't you think, dear Mr. Underdown, that such games are excessively vulgar?"

"Almost as vulgar as eating and drinking," said the gentleman, with a quiet smile.

"There, I told you so," said Miss Matilda; "your own favourite is against you."

"Never, never!" said Rebecca, jumping up, and giving him a smacking kiss, that might have been heard at the lodge.

"I am excessively shocked! O fie! Miss Rebecca Bacuissart, you never saw me jump up and kiss Mr. Underdown in that outrageous manner."

"In what manner then would you do it?"

66

In no manner at all, miss. And besides, you must permit me to tell you that, when young ladies, who think that they have completed their education, have occasion to speak of that part of the person of young noblemen, which is covered by a portion of the coat that does not button up, it is by no means consonant with the best notions of propriety to call it his dear back.""

"Hoity toity! here's a sermon from aunt Mat."

"Aunt Mat indeed! Agnes," turning to Lady Astell, "reprove your too forward niece, if you please."

"We will, my gentle sister, that there be neither reprovings nor reproaches this blessed evening. I almost love her for the wildness of her spirits. O Matilda! is not Augustus coming home?" "Augustus is coming home!"

The words were repeated by all present. They were a talisman for the purest happiness.

"Now, my dear Rebecca," said Mr. Underdown, almost getting the beautiful romp on his knees, "let us hear the end of your argument in favour of turning the village lads into horses. From so methodical and systematical a young lady, the reasons must be very forcible."

"Ah! you're laughing at me, dear, naughty Underdown; but I don't care. I have got very good reasons: in the first place, neither Augustus nor myself are very heavy."

'Oh, ho, ho! the secret's out at last!" and all present joined heartily in the good man's laugh. "No other reason is requisite ; so you ride with the Earl!"

In the midst of the hilarity in which the beautiful, and now much improved hoyden joined, the gates of the lodge were heard to slam to, and a single horseman dashed up at speed to the door. The laugh was suspended-did I say, only the laugh?—every faculty of the whole party seemed wound up in one intense feeling of anxiety. No one spoke or moved, until the same horseman was heard to retreat. As the noise of the clatter of his steed died away along the gravelled avenue, a slight yet very perceptible shudder passed over the frame of Lady Astell—the first dread presentiment of evil.

This silence was at length broken by three slow and, just now,

ominous taps at the door; and no other person had sufficient fortitude to utter the simple words, "Come in!" but the youngest of the party. The old and white-haired butler entered, with a large letter upon a salver, but the seal was designedly placed underneath. He advanced with a grave and slow step to Lady Astell; she extended her hand towards it tremblingly, and no sooner had Jacob seen it in her possession than he hurried from the drawing-room with all the agility of a young man.

No sooner had Lady Astell's eye caught the large black seal, than she shook the letter from her, as if, incautiously, she had taken up some noxious reptile.

"I cannot, I dare not read it; Mr. Underdown-dare you?" Having said this, she could scarcely prevent herself from fainting. Miss Matilda had already taken an attitude.

Mr. Underdown picked up the fatal letter; but, before he broke the seal, he rang for the servant.

"Where is the messenger who brought this?"

"Gone, sir; he would not even alight: said, sir, he had orders to return immediately."

"Did he not say who sent this?"

"He did not, sir; he said nothing else."

"You may go." When the servant had retired, Mr. Underdown said, in the most soothing of all human tones, "My dear, dear Lady Astell, we must prepare ourselves for some affliction. Let us each pray inwardly, for a space, for fortitude, before we break this dismal seal. I am grieved, much grieved, to say, that the superscription is in the handwriting of the Commodore;" and then, his voice faltering so as to be almost inaudible, he continued, "We must prepare ourselves for the worst."

66

"Yes," said the little dutiful daughter, sobbing aloud: "the direction is in father's nasty pothooks and hangers. What can have happened to dear Augustus?"

"Let us kneel and pray."

"Now am I prepared. My dear, my noble friend, read the let ter, but silently; and then tell me, in one single word, my fate," said the mother, with the dreadful calmness of a settled despair.

Mr. Underdown turned his face away, and, whilst the tears streamed down his thin and pale cheeks, he slowly read the woefraught document from beginning to end. Having done this, he folded it up, and put it, with a sorrowful deliberation, in his waistcoat-pocket. He advanced towards Lady Astell: she stood up with a smile-a smile!-oh! that sickly, ghastly, heart-rending smile— to receive him. "Speak: oh! my friend! fear me not; I am nerved to hear the worst. I am strong: speak."

"Augustus is in heaven.".

Lady Astell fell into the arms that her former lover had, with a