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Radiata: hie anche : a sl } scarcely five minutes, Bobby standing with his finger on the street-door latch. “Barney walked ‘like man new made’ to the spot where the boy, with a candle twixt his fingers, in fine chiaroscuro, awaited him. Now ee looking down upon the urchin, saw his eyes twinkling” with meaning, an into a smothered titter.

his dominorial rights, barney DO: ing him ‘a damned sneering little scoundrel.’ He then >

strided into the street, and like a lover gazed upon the moonlight. The clear beam fell upon the house, and as Barney gazed at the golden letters ‘ Blond,’ he might be dreaming-—but he saw them fade and disappear, and in their place beam forth, in burning brightness—

‘ Palms.’

But a few days and Barney was wandering—musing on wedding-rings—on the Sussex shore. It had been arranged by the widow and himself, that they should separately leave town, and meet at the church door on the appointed morning. Barney had engaged the best

apartments at the best inn, and in eight-and-forty hours}

he might call the widow, with all the funded wealth, her stock, and outstanding debts, his own. His feelings seriously directed by the coming event, he attended the parish church with the best intentions. But where shall weak man hide where temptation is not? Placed im- mediately opposite to the destroying eyes of woman, do not our resolutions, though built of granite, melt like wax? Thus it was with Barney; he was stared into weakness, falsehood—but let us not pursue the theme: a syren voice whispered in his ear— to-night—at eleven —the churchyard’—and then the blooming tempter va- nished.

If there be a dreary ‘aching void’ in the time of man it is the four-and-twenty hours preceding marriage, though culprits may differ—hanging. Now Barney, though brimful of love, was in a strange town, with no- thing to do but to count the minutes. Thus, if at eleven o'clock he walked to the churchyard, it was not to lose his innocence, but his time. As for bed, could he sleep on the eve of the glad to-morrow? T'o the churchyard then he sauntered, the night was dark, the wind cold, he listened for the ‘ voice of the charmer, and heard the

i ik it’s | ire into the liberal d his mouth drawn up like a rabbit’s| Ere Barney could enquire into t@ ° On this, anticipating somewhat\a bucket of tar was placed at his feet. Now, sir, the ‘gay eeif-assurance of malig gc ec

Barney boxed the boy’s ears, call-|

pena La SRS oo

d for—! am expect- |merriment, and then, looking becomingly grave, obsery-

Gennes Tame eerie, ol en ce ora ed—i-~5 S53 & . ‘Eve nny yours—every penny, wnen—w I ‘ t once won b 7 ey ye y penny, en / Oh? sere Naga Pig ae z 7 : satel ‘die? and Mr. Fitch straightened his back, and shook hig Se, hi St ongeeit,? ” head and winked his eye, as though he had spoken of the lads—let'’s give him & We wd proposition Greek Kalends, or the coming millennium. Death him- ’!self, though about to suike, must have been tickled at asked one of the sailors, with forced politeness, at the “}° § ve Ee ee . nd the day—the happy day, Mr. Fitch: same time poising in his hand & brush full of the unsa ‘Humph'! a day? day? Thursday, Barney—yes,

|voury liquid—* Now, sir, which will you have on first, | Thursday. We'll keep the wedding at my friend Clay's

‘your waistcoat or your breeches!” Barney opened his! : : ah, no doubt “ proclaim his preference, when eee Tox vs as twee brush, maliciously directed, stopt the communication. be rs ae edeut of hie eneeeennill nd, Then straightway, Barney grinning horribly the while, oo od hed Seen: saiaie chev riodien a heen was he daubed from head to heels. The clock struck US SSE; CRS Oe ts 1 feel . ant

as the operation was finished. nes we si ja 1g to t ee ae Louisa 9G, pte ' Jet me fly’—|through the medium of her gran r. re we are is ere tae ao Ae mee that Barney, in all he had said or looked at his bride, ‘e er the conti ae pes y a fly; where’s his had never transgressed the bounds of the coldest drawn | sie - . civility ; the iciest nun had not meen _— warmth

' ; isa having no relative, no friend j With a noble sacrifice to the desires of the visitor, the arb ig ee was, naturally ate jonly feather-bed aboard was brought upon deck, instant- |the opinion of the venerable man—wholly and unre- iy sorpped ond is coments carey datouted aU seredly at his disor | Having raed bet frum eh

is — ee ay ‘hood, he looked upon her as so much live timber, his eyes and mouth, and blew out his big cheeks, he|.aved into any image, after the fancy of the planter, She might—indeed we must say she did, venture some

looked a monstrous mixture of the ape and penguin. |‘ There--I declare,’ exclaimed one of his valets, ‘talk | emonstrance; but surely four-score better knew what jofa wedding !---why you're drest for Neptune’s daugh- |. fitter for eighteen, then witless eighteen itself. In ter.” The boat was then brought alongside, Barnaby a word, Louisa Fitch was to marry parnabas Palms ; the very gladly took a seat in it, and four of the crew pre-| bride had received her orders from her rich grandfather ‘pared to pull him ashore. ‘I wonder, said one of the!__ ang Thursday was the day appointed. men, ‘ what’s become of that fellow---Barnaby Palms I| a¢ Jenoth Barney approached the haven of his hopes, think they called him, who, when he was turned from ‘He had felt his way to more than easy competence; he the firm of Nokes and Styles, informed about that little had now within a hair’s breadth of his fingers a a. matter of French lace? {I wonder what’s become of youthful and not an unhandsome bride; though, in the him? Here Barnaby might have been communicative ; inain affairs of life, Barney shut his eyes to what is vul- he said nothing but shook his feathers. Having reach- early called, and paid for, in some sort of coin—beauty. ed the shore, the men insisted upon carrying Barney iN-| Blind to outward bloom—he acknowledged virtue by the to the churchyard—to the very spot where he was to)iouch; and Louisa, on the death of her reverend grand- have met the false fair, from certain after circumstances sire, was to have ten thousand pounds. In the ears of shrewdly suspected to be the lawful wife of one of the Barney, the guineas were already ringing on the old smugglers. man’s tombstone!’

In a thought the conspirators were vanished, and Bar- Thursday came. We will not dwell upon the emo-

owl hoot fromthe belfry. Thinking he was tricked, he

felt a touch of compunction for the widow : blushing for, voices, and confused by the ludicrous spectacle he pre-

ney was alone among the tombs, Hearing the sound of tions of the bride; such trifling, the more as it was un- considered by our hero, accords not with the gravity of

his weakness, he turned to seek his inn, when he felt his Sented, he ran blindly forward, was tripped up by some our theme—with the deep lesson that we hope to teach

hand grasped, and a low soft ‘ hush’ fell upon his ear.|Osiers, and rolled headlong into a grave, dug, as it would

Old Mr. Fiteh and some half-dozen friends were present,

Ere he could reply to the admonition, his legs were off/Seem, on purpose, that very morning. Ashe lay stunn-|q)) gaiety and smiles; Barney was in his best; and ’ ?

the ground, a bandage over his eyes and mouth, and his arms pinioned. Could Barney have been an impartial judge, he himself would have eulogized the celerity of

ed and confounded, the bells rung out a merry peal,|y oy; striking into Barney a sense of his situation. He rose c senile ane “ar aulcnes asecee ae ‘ia = upon his feet, and with his hands grasping the edge of|the altar haunted the bridegroom. It might be the em-

the operation. In a thought he felt himself rocking in a the grave he lifted his head half-way above the surface, !/harrassing novelty of his situation that deceived hi cradle : the splashing of oars convinced him of his error :| and saw—proceeding from the church—a blushing, new | sanses. for oats upward, he saw the wings a com ’ ; 5 ard, £ Yr Cary

he was on ‘ the wide and open sea.’

To be cold for aslave was the least Rerney looked |i” her happy husband, the silkman from the opposite

for; perhaps to become the property of the Grand Turk —io be proiwmoted—(promoted !\—to a keeper of the se- ragiio! Barney thought of the widow, and grew cold from head tosole. Barney was blindfolded; yet did he plainly see a gang of buccaniers with mustaches long as ordinary pig-tails, The boat was speedily alongside a very suspicious looking craft. Barney was happily spared the sight of her—the captive was lifted aboard, and unceremoniously, as a bale of coarse merchandise, flung into a corner called a berth. This act seemed to be a preconcerted signa! with wind and wave; for al- most on the instant, a stiff gale sprang from the north- west—the sea rose in mountains, and the vessel, light as a cork, danced upon their crests. In this uproar, what was to be expected of the stomach of Barney, any thing but amphibious! It was evident that his keepers had formed a right opinion of its weakness, for with a latent feeling of humanity—-let us praise where praise is due-~ they had taken the bandage from Barney’s mouth.

The storm roared itself, like a wilful child, to rest, and the morning dawned upon the wave, bright and gorgeous. It was the wedding morning of Barnaby Palms ; and lying coiled like a distempered dog in his nook, he told the hours struck from the church, where, in brief time, a disappointed bride would weep for him. Barney sighed; the time wore on, he groaned: another

cherubim plumed with real feathers, and snufling the

: . ais, he thought he scented the marine odor |shop. Mrs. Biond had long reflected on his secret offers, | ttnen . Barney was marricd: Sie Se h “ ‘but the wisdoin of Barney—his fine delicate sense of| o¢ pis side under his arm ‘o quitted the church rr

j . . a as > : . * feeling his way—had fixed her for ever. The silkman| Up to this moment old Mr. Fitch was gay and chirruping, whilst his benevolent tyranny was In course

| walked on, 2 bridegroom: Darney stood where he was, of execution, he was m the highest spirits. The knot,

a bachelor: his rival was bound for life: Barney was ly tarred athore,)! only tarred and feethered: however, was no sooner tied, than, possibly from excess CHAPTER IV. ee _ “st ghastly pale. He was led

ican rom the church; but ere he could gain the carriage at ' In the foregoing Chapters we have confined ourselves the gate, was compelled to rest himself; he sat a 2 to two great disappointments of our hero, who, however, | grave, and Berney approaching, looked at him, with an vas he felt his way through life, had manifold small suc- cye of anticipation. With some assistance, Mr. Fiteh cesses. It is true that Fortune, when she promised |was placed in the coach ;the party proceeded tothe inn most, had shown herself most fickle; yet had she re-|and—the grandfather quickly rallying—there were high warded Barney witha thousand gifts. Thus, ere he had| hopes of the festive dinner. Vain are all earthly promises! completed his three-and-fortieth year, Barney had ‘land |Just as the first course was laid the old man relapsed and beeves.’ His miraculous sense of touch, like that! was carried to bed, and in three hours was ready for the of Midas, had turned some of the dirtiest matters into} mattock and the spade. It was supposed that the ex- obs tes ae ri ae 3 a of | weme coldness of the church had quickened his end

my exerci e folks, we little think of the W ; wonders of the long-eared ——) "Tt is confessed he hadletory — ne groped in dark corners for his wealth—but then, how, Barney was the possessor of t = . en thousand b much higher his merit—how much greater the discovery? Had he ceanae pe the wishes of ome kent = It is only the vulgar mind that thinks to win its fortune /doubtless passed to another bridegroom: Se tend da along the broad highway of life, in clearest day; the thanked his wisdom, felt his way through the mead nobler genius, hugging itself in its supremacy, searches father ! : 6 e

pits and holes—with this sustaining creed—that though! It struck twelve as Barney sought his bridal couch.

made bride, in the person of the late Mrs. Blond--and |

hour, he called aloud; another and another, and he raved |the prize acquired be not really of half the worth to th j and stormed and begged to be put ashore. Coarse catigietod = at rg a . ee oa He had already one leg in bed, when a bright thought violent as his persecutors had shown themselves, they/ value, because obtained in secrecy and gloom.

still were men; and knowing that the situation of Barney was, as the newspapers, when the fact was known, would propound, more easily felt than described, they opened the door of his prison and suffered him to feel his way

‘A broken heart, Mr. Palms! you don’t believe in any such nonsense ?”

In truth, Barney was not so weak; since he felt him- self a reasoning creature he had ever doubted that much

upon deck. Barney saw noslave-ship, but the ‘Jemima,’ talked of phenomenon; moreover, a recent visit to the

smuggling cutter of Hythe.

‘Shore! shore !’ exclaimed Barney, and he looked with devouring eyes towards the beach.

‘ Ay, ay, sir” was the dogged reply of an old tarpaul- ing, ‘allin good time, your honour.’

*Mayhap the gentleman never see’d Flushing,’ con-| jectured a second. ‘Ifso, we'll give him passage free.’

‘ My good fellows,’ cried Barney, whose extreme agi- tation rendered him insensible to the cold irony of his captors, ‘my good fellows, I forgive the joke—I--ha! ha!—'twas a capital hoax—but don’t push it too far. I must go ashore!”

arrested him. ‘Taking a candle, he withdrew from the chamber, to seek the room of the dead man. In good time Barney had recollected the silly vanity ofold Fitch, who was wont to carry in his pockets a thousand or two in bank-paper. This might be stolen; he, as heir, should instantly seize the property. Ashe became fully confirmed in this idea, a current of wind extinguished

— ae. Hall had confirmed him in his un-|the candle. For a long time, Barney continued silently elief; he had seen, to the best of his memory, no such ‘to fee] his way; but the Fox-and Goose was an old, old preparation. Hence, he had used the words ‘a broke house, with corridor and passages, and winding stair-

heart,’ as, we trust, a pardonable figure of speech. ‘To cases, and—a shriek was heard, and no more! 7 a een to be sure not. AllImeantto! A coroner’s inquest, that sat next day at the Fox-and- y eat! ae. ao Mr. Pal _ |Goose, on the body of a gentleman found at the bottom one are tanker nt Trent lof heh, soterned «wedi ‘Aocideue, doe ’ : ; $a This was of course in default of full evidence, otherwise os . want a wife—I consent to the match— the yerdict would have run— Died of too much feeling you don’t object to it—then what more need be said his way.” Poor Barney! he had smiled—nay, in his

$ 4

” | about the matter: ‘heart had chuckled—when he saw old Fitch seatad on 8

One of the crew approached him, and with a confi- dential air, asked, ‘Can you swim ? ‘No, no, no!’ cried Barney, scarcely repressing his! tears. ‘What a pity—for we can’t spare you a boat. Up with the anchor, leds.’

‘to the church, was, in the course of events,soon destined

The speaker who was thus smoothing Barney’s walk graye! And now, had Barney ‘felt his way”

to go thither himself; certain it is, he looked affianced| « ° sai ; i to the undertaker. ‘A broken heart! ha! ha! and eel das stems cena ase the old white-haired gentleman crowed like a cock at\the name of Black Moll.’ ‘ Faith you may, mister law-

the extravagance. | ae 9. aint Barney smiled an instant approval of the old man's| yuarda? en incr aiactana aie senna ec 2

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