d a very pleasant time we had of it.'

A good-natured laugh was indulged at the peculiarities of the old lawyer,
and many stories told of him, and of others who have figured in this
history. Nor was it until the little clock over the mantel-piece seemed to
give a very vehement wag of its pendulum as it struck twelve, and Spite,
who had been asleep in the corner, bounced up, alarmed at the lateness of
the night, and barked vociferously, that they dreamed of going to bed.

The strangers were Harson's guests that night; and the old man, having
escorted them to their room, and wished them good night, was himself soon
in bed and asleep.

Bright and early the next morning, they were astir; for they were to leave
the city, and Harson was up and ready to see them off. It was a fine
morning; the trees were just beginning to put forth their spring leaves,
and the grass in the public squares was looking quite fresh and green, as
they drove down to the wharf, where the steamer lay, whizzing and puffing,
and groaning as if in mortal pain, and tugging at its cable like some
shackled sea-monster struggling to escape to its home in the deep. Early
as it was, crowds were hurrying to and fro; carts driving up and
unloading; porters staggering along with trunks and bales on their
shoulders; carriages dashing up at a gallop, filled with people afraid of
being too late, and going off more leisurely after the passengers were
deposited on the wharf. People were bustling hither and thither, elbowing
their way to one place, merely to find out where to elbow it to the next;
friends were bidding each other adieu; and in particular, a stout lady
from the country, in yellow ribbons, from the upper part of the boat was
sending a confidential message to her family and friends by a gentleman
who stood in the crowd some sixty yards off.

Through this throng the coach containing our friends drove, and just in
good time, for as they stepped on board, the last bell rang.

'All aboard!' shouted the captain; 'take in the plank.'

Harson shook hands with his friends. 'God bless thee, my child!' said he,
pressing Annie in his arms. The next moment he stepped on shore; and the
boat glided from the dock, and shot out upon the green water.

'Ah, Annie!' said the old man, as he stopped waving his hand, and turned
away from the river, 'I had hoped that you would have been mine own as
long as I lived; but it's all right as it is. Your brother,' added he, 'I
d