was, sure enough, growling and grinding his teeth with rage and mortification.

"Why don't you cry Stop thief?" I bawled out to him. "Did you think to catch the Englishman asleep? Au revoir, Coquin!"

I waited no reply, but, making for the street, jumped into the first fiacre that came in view, and in half an hour had alighted at my own lodging. As I was mounting to my apartment, au quatrième, I met on the stairs my friend and chum, Ollendorf, who was sallying forth to meet his morning pupils.

"Halloo!" said he, "you've been out all night ?"

"Yes," said I, "and I've had an adventure."

"Good! let me hear all about it."

I told him how I had passed the night, and all that had happened.

"Capital!" he cried; "and have you examined the thief's bag?"

"No, I have not done that yet; but of course it contains nothing but what is my own."

"Do not be too sure of that. Come, we will examine it together."

He followed me into my room, and I lugged forth the bag, feeling confident that the fertile imagination of my philological friend had misled him, as it was apt to do. To my astonishment there were in the bag, in addition to the money rifled from my pocket, a gold napoleon, a five-franc piece, and a pair of enormously large circular ear-rings of alloyed gold, such as one often sees in the ears of the provincial immigrants who crowd the wharves, the markets, and warehouses of Paris. "There!" said my friend, "you see that the rascal had more strings to his bow than you gave him credit for. If you had made an uproar and a charge of theft, he could have retorted charge upon you-would have

shown his own empty pockets, and might have stood as good a chance of criminating you, as you of criminating him. However, you may forgive him, since he has paid you for the trouble of defeating his purpose; and really, I think he has treated you handsomely."

"Against his will; but, seriously, what ought I to do? had I not better put the affair into the hands of the police ?"

"Do you know the rule in such cases here? If not, I must tell you that if you put the thief's money into the hands of the police, you will also be compelled to hand over the whole contents of the bag; and how much of it you will get back, and when you will get any, you must be cleverer than I am if you can guess."

I finally decided not to trouble the police with the business; but as I could not have made use of the scoundrel's money any more than I could have worn the huge ear-rings, I wrapped both up in paper together, and placed them in my pocket-book until time and circumstances should present some fit and proper mode of disposing of them.

It was about a year after the above adventure, and when the details of it had almost faded from my memory, that I was invited by a friend from England to accompany him on a visit to one of the Parisian prisons-if I recollect right it was the New Bicêtre, which, after a deal of solicitation and trouble, he had obtained permission to inspect. While we were wandering through the workshops, in which the prisoners labour together in silence for so many hours a day, as my friend was committing his notes to paper, I amused myself by scanning the demoralized countenances around me, little suspecting that I was destined to find an acquaintance among them. Close to my elbow there stood a man at a bench, bending over his work, which was that of carving sabots from unshapely blocks of willow wood. I was admiring the rapidity and boldness of his execution, when he suddenly lifted his head

and exposed to view the face-which I had formerly studied with such deliberation—of the thief of the Rue de l'Odéon. I knew him at once, and saw that the recognition was mutual, for he lowered his head again instantly, and plainly sought to elude my gaze. ] could not, of course, speak to him then, without contravening the rules of the prison; but on imparting my wish to do so to the guide who had us in charge, he promised to give me the opportunity I sought when we had finished our survey. He was as good as his word; and, before leaving the prison, I was conducted to the delinquent in his own cell, whither he had been remanded that I might see him. The poor wretch, who, it was clear, imagined that I was going to lodge a fresh charge against him, seemed struck with a mortal pallor as I entered.

"Do not be alarmed," I said; "I have no complaint to make against you; but I have been wishing to meet you, and to make a restoration of property which may perhaps be of use to you." I unfolded my pocket-book and took out the little packet containing the napoleon, the five-franc piece, and the ear-rings. think, belong to you-is it not so ?"

66

These, I

He bowed assent, but did not speak. "Take them,” I said, “and take better care of them than you did when you had them last."

He glanced at the attendant, as if to intimate that the man's presence prevented his saying more, and merely replied, with impressive earnestness, "M'sieu, you are a man of honour!" I wished I could return the compliment.

REMARKABLE INSTANCE OF PRESENCE OF MIND.

N a solitary house on Wandsworth Common, about the beginning of the present century, lived a gentleman and his niece, their domestics consisting of a butler and two female servants. This gentleman possessed a great deal of valuable family plate, and, having occasion to go from home, he gave the key of the strong closet in which it was kept to his niece, requesting that she would herself take charge of it. This she promised to do; and, having every reason to suppose that he was leaving his family under safe guardianship, her uncle set out on his intended journey.

A day or two afterwards, the butler came to his mistress, saying that he thought it would be a good opportunity for him to clean this plate, as he knew his master was particular about its being nicely kept, and requesting that he might have the key of the closet for that purpose. Not supposing for a moment that he had any other motive in asking for the key, she was on the point of giving it to him, when something in the expression of the man's eye made her hesitate, and, replacing the key in her pocket, she merely said that her uncle had left no orders to that effect, and she should, therefore, prefer its being left until his return. Surprised to find that the butler still persisted in his request, the young lady spoke still more decidedly, saying that she never interfered in her uncle's arrangements; and the discomfited butler went down-stairs, leaving his young mistress not a little astonished at his strange behaviour.

That night, after locking her bedroom door as usual, as she was walking towards the dressing-table with the candlestick in her hand, she was not a little startled to observe this man crouching

In an

down behind an easy chair which stood near the wall. instant his conduct in the morning flashed across her mind, and she was no longer at a loss to account for his motive in wishing to possess himself of the key. Determined not to betray, by look or gesture, that she was aware of his presence, she quietly put down the candlestick, and, seating herself in a chair beside the dressingtable, took up her Bible and endeavoured to read, praying most earnestly that she might be enabled to do whatever was right. Human help she had no means of obtaining; for, even were he to allow her to leave the room (which was not very probable), she wisely judged that to call two terrified maids to her assistance would be worse than having no help at all; and therefore, commending herself to the protection of an all-powerful Saviour, she remained for some time with her eyes fixed upon her Bible, now and then turning over its sacred pages, and gradually becoming calm and self-possessed.

At length, having resolved what to do, she rose from her seat and proceeded to undress, as usual, first taking the key of the plate-closet from her pocket and putting it down with some little noise, that the man might know where to find it. She then knelt by her bed-side, and, after silently imploring the protection and wisdom she so sorely needed, lit the rushlight on the hearth, and extinguished her candle. As this extraordinary girl laid her head upon the pillow, it was in the firm assurance that nothing could happen to her without her Heavenly Father's knowledge.

After a while she heard the chair gently pushed, and through her closed eyelashes she could see the man cross the room and take up the key and the candlestick. He then lit the candle and came to the bed-side. She had just time to perceive some kind of instrument in his hand, but lay perfectly still, breathing as regularly as a little child. Not by the quiver of an eyelid, nor by the slightest flutter of the breath, did she show that she was awake, even when she