arbitrary authority, unrecognised by law. Cumlin, you are discharged."

Peake and Higgs looked aghast, and the former desired to modify his expressions; but he met with cool indifference. They departed on their way, cursing their ill-luck, which had lost them such a valua ble cargo, and venting their spleen at the partiality of the magistrates.

Before closing this chapter we may as well relate, that poor Bott, after being terribly frightened, was released; and what is remarkable, he would never account for a temporary absence from his duties, but to the hour of his death he preserved silence; and he was, in after life, frequently observed puffing his pipe in the capacious chimney corner of the Chequers. Stranger still, he never wanted a glass of brandy, either at home or at that house, where he was once an unwelcome visitant, and for which payment was never demanded. This fact sometimes led Bott into little excesses, but during his exacerbations he was never known to allude to the dungeon under the council-room at Mr. Gettings'; and he always spoke of Cumlin with due regard up to that moment when the good town and port lost so efficient and faithful

a servant.

CHAPTER VII.

James Waldron proceeded slowly along the shady lane, with blooming thick-set hedges, for which England is so celebrated, on each side. There a wild rose-bud put forth promise of future loveliness. The honeysuckle vied with the sweet-briar in casting a perfume around. Waldron felt none of these charms of nature; the demon of jealousy was gnawing within his heart. Where this feeling exists, farewell peace and happiness. The frown of Cumlin was conclusive, and the tearful obedience of the fair Margaret moved at once his compassion and indignation.

He entered the gardens alone, regardless of the pleasure enjoyed by the hundreds of smiling faces. He was miserable. The dreamy life he had enjoyed for some time, was now rudely disturbed. The cup of happiness was dashed from his lips. What then had he to live for? So thought this young man, and so have thousands before him; and millions will conclude as he did, that he was the most miserable person alive.

"I will seek an explanation," exclaimed James, in his anger. "I will know from her own lips what I have done to offend her father. Yes," he uttered, with increasing energy, "I will beard the old man were he a thousand times more terrible than he is described, and learn my fate. Suspense is a hell of torture. I will not endure it."

A smart blow fell on the shoulder of the angry youth, while a gay voice uttered, 'Who talks of non-endurance and dying? Why we must all suffer. Man was brought into this world without his consent; he sojourns a brief time; encounters trials of the heart, and expires; and the parson consigns him either to heaven or to an unmentionable place."

This was uttered in a cynical tone by one who, doubtless, had reasons for his assertion. The new comer cordially extended his hand, which was grasped with extraordinary warmth by Waldron, who smilingly observed, "My dear Poynder, how glad I am to see you. I was never so unhappy in my life."

"Do not be in too great a hurry to place confidence in one of whom you know so little; friendship, my dear sir, is only for those whose hearts are known after many years' endurance of the storms and sunshine of this curious world."

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What, do you preach this to me, after what has occurred? You, who have saved me from worse than death-infamy; you, who have, in our brief acquaintance, taught me to look into my own heart-to cultivate the little talent I possess; you, that have taught me to despise the adventitious graces of person, in order to improve my understanding; you, I say, to utter this cold speech, when, after so long an absence, we meet again. Believe me, Edmund, it is not kind, nor in accordance with the excellence of your heart."

“Bravo, my friend; you have indeed made good use of your absence from Belgium, to cultivate at least one essential in human intercourse-eloquence. But badinage aside; I am glad to see you; but you look as woe-begone as a sprite. Now inform your physician the seat of your grief, and he will prescribe to the best of his poor ability. It is a disease of the heart-eh?"

The friends, with arms linked together, then discoursed in low tones of the pastof their first acquaintance in the ancient city of Antwerp their subsequent wanderings in many lands—and, finally, James related the progress and interruption of his affection for Margaret Cumlin.

The young men had not been long together before Poynder understood his friend's case, and learned that Barnard was suspected as his rival.

We will take this opportunity of introducing Julius Barnard to our reader. It has been stated that Barnard was the heir of ten thousand acres, but this was under the mark. His father, bed-ridden and rich, owned considerable property in the neighbourhood of Folkstone and adjacent districts. Borobeach Hall was the prettiest seat for miles, and is so still. The house is stuccoed in front and sides, contains two

wings, and is situated in a deep valley, completely surrounded by high hills, cultivated to their summit. At this period the family lived in magnificent style; the carriages and horses were the best among the rarest. The 'squire also kept a pack of fox-hounds and a pack of harriers, with an excellent stud of horses.

On the south of this lovely mansion, and in the park, lay, in peerless beauty, a pic turesque lake, mirroring the hills in loveliness. On this lake numerous swans and wild fowl glided majestically on its silvery surface, which were fed by the female branches of the family. A small distance from this lake, rose abruptly from its borders a mountain, which had received from art some embellishments. On the summit of this high hill was constructed a summerhouse of large dimensions. and of an annular shape. This hill is a complete landmark for vessels passing up and down the channel. It rises majestically above the surrounding highlands, and being surmounted with the summer-house painted white, it is plainly perceivable miles at sea. Borobeach is a beautiful spot, and her master, at that time, a liberal landlord and the sportsman's friend.

Julius Barnard was small in person, with a distinguished air. He had received a collegiate education without taking his degrees. Being the eldest child, and an only son, a degree was considered an useless appendage to the family honours. Like his father, he was fond of sporting, and particularly partial to his tenants if they possessed good-looking daughters. His gallantry was reported to be universal; for many of the handsome rustics living on the estate, appeared at their cottage doors with infants in their arms, without having a gudeman" whom they charged with paternity. However, the young creatures appeared well-dressed and happy, and the children possessed a remarkable resemblance to the "young 'squire."

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Barnard was rich: that which would have been considered heartless cruelty in a farmer's son, was supposed to redound to the honour of the bachelor heir to ten thousand acres, and one of the members for the fair county of Kent.

Barnard was proud and overbearing to his inferiors; soft, tender, and impassioned to the other sex, which rendered him a delightful and dangerous companion to any unoccupied heart.

THE ISLAND OF CHUSAN. We copy the following interesting description of this island from the Friend of India :

"The island of Chusan is seven miles from the mainland, and forty miles distant from the city of Ningpo, and lies in the vicinity of all the great and valuable marts of commerce on the eastern coast. It is 150 miles in circumference. The chief bay, that of Tinghae, is capable of accommodating, in perfect security, a hundred sail of square-rigged vessels, and possesses the most admirable facilities for the esta blishment of docks. Good water abounds, not only at the capital, but throughout the island. Chusan consists of a succession of hills and dales, which present one unbroken scene of rich cultivation, and exhibit the most lovely scenery. Wheat, rice, tea, grass-cloth, sweet potatoes, cotton, tobacco, and other articles, grow in great luxuriance. The island is intersected with roads-not intended for wheeled conveyances-from five to seven feet broad, and paved and flagged throughout; and it is thickly studded with villages. Those who have the best opportunity of forming an opinion on the subject, believe that a hundred well-populated towns and superior villages would be found on it, containing from one to five thousand inhabitants. The whole population is estimated at 270,000. The people are industrious and comfortable, and appear to have no want unsupplied; scarcely a beggar is to be seen, and there is a comparative absence of crime, which reflects no small credit on the Chinese character. Not a single homicide has occurred during the three years in which it has been in our occupation; and the inmates of the jail, contributed by the whole island, have rarely exceeded twenty; and of those the majority have consisted of those who were confined for the illegal sale of its indigenous whiskey, the shamshoo. The climate vies with that of the most favoured regions of the world. It is the Montpellier of China. There are but three months which can be called hot, June, July, and August. In this latter month the thermometer stands on an average at 83 deg., but sinks at night to 73 deg. The next month it subsides to 74 deg. in the day. Then comes winter, with its bracing, vivifying, exhilarating influences, and the ground is covered with hoar frost, and the ice lies half an inch thick. In January and February the thermometer stands at 20 deg. of Fahrenheit. In March it rises to 28 deg., but the hills continue to be capped with snow, and the cheerful fire is kept up till the commencement of June, so that it is only during three months of the year that woollen clothing is unneces sary. All the other places in China where

we have commercial stations are hot, sultry, and unhealthy, and it is to Chusan that invalids have generally resorted for the restoration of health and vigour. The island furnishes provisions of every description, of the best quality, at a very moderate price. Beef, pork, and poultry, may be obtained in the greatest abundance. Of geese, as large as those in England, there is no lack. Ducks are hatched by steam by thousands, and eggs are less than a half-penny a-piece. Game of every variety is easily procured. Bread, of English quality, is readily prepared by the Chinese. All kinds of vegetables may be obtained, and English vegetables and fruit grow with great luxuriance. Potatoes have now been introduced, and will probably become an article of great consumption throughout China. Indeed, all kinds of provisions may be obtained at one-half the sum they cost at Hong-Kong. It is only for a European want to be known, to be immediately supplied from the island or the continent. Fish is obtained in the greatest abundance. Fishing is universal around the island, and it is calculated that not fewer than 70,000 vessels come from the continent, and remain for three months off Chusan employed in fishing. They are attended by boats filled with ice, in which the fish are packed, and then despatched to the neighbouring coast."

In the year 1814 the territory of France was invaded by the allied forces of nearly the whole of Europe, and the French eagle, which, previous to the disastrous retreat from Russia, had almost invariably led the way to victory, was now compelled to recoil before the overwhelming force. The little town of Sens had refused to open its gates to the invaders, and was bravely preparing to make a desperate resistance. The clocks of Sens had just struck the time of ten, when one of the gates was opened, and a peasant's cart, drawn by an active little horse, hastily left the town. The night was dark and gloomy; not a star was to be seen; but from time to time, the fires on the heights where the enemy lay encamped, sent forth a ruddy glare, which illumined the surrounding country. In the cart that had just left the town, there were two men, in the garb of peasants, one of whom held a gun in his hand, while the other acted as driver. After they had proceeded along the highway, to a considerable distance, they suddenly turned into a by-road hitherto they had not exchanged a single word.

"Well, father Bardou," said he who acted as driver, "now that we are off the high road, I think it would be as well to take the bells off the horse's head, for their music might wake the Cossacks."

"I am afraid, my boy, you would make butja poor soldier,” replied the other; "why you have not ever seen the beard of one of those Cossacks yet, and you are as frightened as if you felt the point of their lances at your back."

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Aye, you are very brave, father Bardou, with your double barrelled gun; but I should like to see you amongst them." "Would you, indeed?"

"Why, not exactly; because I would, in that case, most likely, be in danger myself."

"I thought so," replied Bardou, laughing. "Come, do not tremble so, my brave Pierrin-I shall take the bells off to satisfy you."

"I am not absolutely afraid," stammered Pierrin; "but believe me, father Bardou, it is not safe to have any dealings with these Cossacks."

Bardou, who was no other than the innkeeper of Gevrey, had left home that morning, in company with Pierrin, to go to Sens, for the purpose of purchasing some liquors for his establishment; as to Pierrin, he had accompanied the inn-keeper to Sens, that he might receive some money that was due, with which he intended to purchase some presents for Claudine, the daughter of his friend Bardou. On their arrival at Sens they soon found that they could not accomplish the objects of their journey. Liquors of all kinds had risen to an exorbitant price, for the merchants, expecting that the town would be besieged, were not willing to part with them; and when Pierrin asked for his money, he was told that the time when they were expecting that the enemy would lay siege to the town, was not a fit moment for business.

Shortly after Bardou had removed the bells from the horse's head the cart arrived at a part of the road, near which lay a village that was occupied by the Russians. Pierrin strove to pierce the gloom which involved them on every side, and his ears acquired that acuteness of hearing, which is ascribed to the aborigines of America. The horse suddenly started aside and made a full stop; Pierrin shook in every limb.

"What is the matter with the horse?" asked Bardou. Pierrin did not reply; he was paralysed with fear. "Come, give him a lash of your whip," said Bardou, "without you wish to stop here all night."

This remark recalled Pierrin to his senses, and he dealt the horse a tremendous lash with his whip, which made it rear up; but it did not attempt to advance a single step.

He had no sooner uttered these words than the sound of musketry was heard, and the balls whistled past their ears.

"By heaven! you are right," said Bar dou," the rascals have sent us a few cards of invitation."

"I told you, father Bardou, before we set out, that it would be impossible for us to escape the Cossacks; but you would not believe me; and now we have fallen into their hands, we shall be shot like dogs."

"Oh, there is a chance for us yet; you lie down in the bottom of the cart, and hold fast the reins."

The horse, frightened at the sound of musketry, had started off at full gallop; but it had not proceeded far when it again reared, and refused to advance; a moment after two Cossacks seized it by the bridle. Bardou immediately discharged his doublebarrelled-gun; the Cossacks fell, and the horse again starting off at full gallop, the cart wheels passed over their bodies. Several shots were now fired, one of which struck Bardou in the breast; and Pierrin, who was still lying at the bottom of the cart, felt some drops of blood fall on his face.

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"Yes, I believe the rascals have done for me; keep up the horse's head, my boy; I hear them behind us; but we are some distance in advance of them; and if we can only reach the ford before they overtake us, they will not dare to follow us beyond it."

The galloping of horses, and the famous battle-cry of the Cossacks, was now heard distinctly. A few minutes after Bardou and Pierrin reached the ford, which they crossed in safety, and their enemies, finding that the reports of their fire-arms had assembled the peasants of Gerrey on the opposite bank of the river, relinquished their pursuit. Bardou, as long as there was any danger, had kept up bravely; but now they were beyond the reach of their enemies, he grew faint from loss of blood, and would have fallen had he not been supported by Pierrin.

When the inn-keeper told his daughter in the morning, that he was going to Sens, she endeavoured to dissuade him from going, by pointing out to him the danger he would run of being taken prisoner by the

Cossacks; but he represented to her, that the Cossacks had something else to do besides meddling with a couple of peaceable peasants, and he succeeded so far in allaying her fears, that she consented to let him depart. For some hours after Bardou and Pierrin had started for Sens, Claudine only thought of the presents which her lover had promised to bring her; but when night came, without their return, her anxiety became exceedingly painful. She wandered up and down, without being able to remain a single moment in one place. She leaned out of the window to strive if she could hear any sound which might indicate their return; but the deep silence that prevailed was unbroken by any sound, save by the watchward of the sentinels, who were placed at the outskirts of the village. The supper she had so carefully prepared for her father and Pierrin was now quite spoiled, it had been kept so long waiting. Eleven o'clock had struck; she then endeavoured to persuade herself that her father had not left Sens, that he intend ed to remain there all night, and would not consequently be home before the next morning; but this belief was of short duration, and her mind was again racked with doubt and anxiety. Again she looked out of the window, when she fancied she heard the sound of fire-arms. She hastily left the house and ran into the street, where she saw a company of gendarmes gallop by and take the road leading to Sens; she was no longer in doubt; it was now quite manifest to her that her father and Pierrin had been attacked by the Cossacks.

An hour after, Bardou, pale and exhausted from the loss of blood, was brought home by Pierrin, and immediately carried to bed. The village surgeon was sent for, and after he had examined the wound, his countenance assumed an expression of anxiety and alarm, which did not escape the observation of Claudine, whose gaze was fastened on the surgeon, as if she wished to read in his countenance the fate of her father.

"Come," said she, drawing the doctor aside, "I see by your countenance that my father's wound is mortal; tell me at once; fear not, my sorrow shall be mute; I am only a woman, but I have courage enough to support affliction, and also to inspire me with vengeance!"

The doctor thought that her reason had received a shock, and, taking her hand, he pressed it gently, saying, “Poor child!"

Claudine saw the tears start to the doctor's eyes, and she understood the fearful meaning contained in those two words. As to Pierrin, he was seated in a corner of the room, holding in his hand a bloody handkerchief, which had served as a bandage to Bardou's wound; his eyes were