rection, not a death: it appears
that the negro thinks only one of the boats went down.'

'_Mors omnia vincit_,' quoth Jonathan, casting up his eyes.

'Never you mind that; mind your own business. That's the postman's
knock--see if there are any letters.'

There were several; and amongst the others there was one from Captain
Maxwell, of the _Eurydice_, detailing the circumstances already known,
and informing Mr. Witherington that he had despatched the two negroes
and the child to his address by that day's coach, and that one of the
officers, who was going to town by the same conveyance, would see them
safe to his house.

Captain Maxwell was an old acquaintance of Mr. Witherington--had dined
at his house in company with the Templemores, and therefore had
extracted quite enough information from the negroes to know where to
direct them.

'By the blood of my ancestors! they'll be here to-night,' cried Mr.
Witherington; 'and I have saved my journey. What is to be done? better
tell Mary to get rooms ready: d'ye hear, William; beds for one little
boy and two niggers.'

'Yes, sir,' replied William; 'but where are the black people to be put?'

'Put! I don't care; one may sleep with cook, the other with Mary.'

'Very well, sir, I'll tell them,' replied William, hastening away,
delighted at the row which he anticipated in the kitchen.

'If you please, sir,' observed Jonathan, 'one of the negroes is, I
believe, a man.'

'Well, what then?'

'Only, sir, the maids may object to sleep with him.'

'By all the plagues of the Witheringtons! this is true; well, you may
take him, Jonathan--you like that colour.'

'Not in the dark, sir,' replied Jonathan, with a bow.

'Well then, let them sleep together; so that affair is settled.'

'Are they man and wife, sir?' said the butler.

'The devil take them both! how should I know? Let me have my breakfast,
and we'll talk over the matter by and by.'

Mr. Witherington applied to his eggs and muffin, eating his breakfast as
fast as he could, without knowing why; but the reason was that he was
puzzled and perplexed with the anticipated arrival, and longed to think
quietly over the dilemma, for it was a dilemma to an old bachelor. As
soon as he had swallowed his second cup of tea he put himself into his
easy-chair, in an easy attitude, and was very soon soliloquising as
follows:--

'By the blood of the Witheringtons! what am I, an old bachelor, to do
with a baby, and a wet-nurse