vinced the ball was intended for her, while Anna lays in a
terrible fright in her chamber.

"Ho," says Mr. Stubbs, starting back suddenly as he opened the door of
the closet in which the two gentlemen had concealed themselves. "I see!
I see!--beg your pardon, gentlemen!" Mr. Stubbs whispers, and bows, and
shuts the door quickly.

"An infernal affair this, Judge! D--n me if I wouldn't as soon be in the
dock. It will all get out to-morrow," interposes Mr. Snivel,
facetiously.

"Blast these improper associations!" the high functionary exclaims,
fussily shrugging his shoulders, and wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"I love the girl, though, I confess it!"

"Nothing more natural. A man without gallantry is like a pilgrim in the
South-West Pass. You can't resist this charming creature. In truth it's
a sort of longing weakness, which even the scales of justice fail to
bring to a balance."

Mr. Stubbs fails to find the assassin, and enters Madame Ashley's
chamber, the door of which leads into the hall. Here Mr. Stubbs's quick
eye suddenly discerns a slight motion of the curtains that enclose the
great, square bed, standing in one corner. "I ax your pardon, Mam, but
may I look in this 'ere bed?" Mr. Stubbs points to the bed, as Madame,
having thrown herself into a great rocking chair, proceeds to sway her
dignity backward and forward, and give out signs of making up her mind
to faint.

Mr. Stubbs draws back the curtains, when, behold! but tell it not in the
by-ways, there is revealed the stalworth figure of Simon Patterson, the
plantation parson. Our plantation parsons, be it known, are a singular
species of depraved humanity, a sort of itinerant sermon-makers, holding
forth here and there to the negroes of the rich planters, receiving a
paltry pittance in return, and having in lieu of morals an excellent
taste for whiskey, an article they invariably call to their aid when
discoursing to the ignorant slave--telling him how content with his lot
he ought to be, seeing that God intended him only for ignorance and
servitude. The parson did, indeed, cut a sorry figure before the gaze of
this indescribable group, as it rushed into the room and commenced
heaping upon his head epithets delicacy forbids our inserting
here--calling him a clerical old lecher, an assassin, and a disturber of
the peace and respectability of the house. Indeed, Madame Ashley quite
forgot to faint, and with a display of courage amounting almost to
her