o years. One in
Ireland, and one at Bath. A Solomonson is, I believe, her husband, and
they both are off for America ten days ago."

"But why did you not keep your 2,000L.?" said the lawyer.

"Sir, they attached it."

"Oh, well, we may pass you. You have been unlucky, Mr. Stubbs, but it
seems as if the biter had been bit in this affair."

"No," said Mr. Dubobwig. "Mr. Stubbs is the victim of a FATAL
ATTACHMENT."

NOVEMBER.--A GENERAL POST DELIVERY.

I was a free man when I went out of the Court; but I was a beggar--I,
Captain Stubbs, of the bold North Bungays, did not know where I could
get a bed, or a dinner.

As I was marching sadly down Portugal Street, I felt a hand on my
shoulder and a rough voice which I knew well.

"Vell, Mr. Stobbs, have I not kept my promise? I told you dem boots
would be your ruin."

I was much too miserable to reply; and only cast my eyes towards the
roofs of the houses, which I could not see for the tears.

"Vat! you begin to gry and blobber like a shild? you vood marry, vood
you? and noting vood do for you but a vife vid monny--ha, ha--but you
vere de pigeon, and she was de grow. She has plocked you, too, pretty
vell--eh? ha! ha!"

"Oh, Mr. Stiffelkind," said I, "don't laugh at my misery: she has not
left me a single shilling under heaven. And I shall starve: I do believe
I shall starve." And I began to cry fit to break my heart.

"Starf! stoff and nonsense! You vill never die of starfing--you vill die
of HANGING, I tink--ho! ho!--and it is moch easier vay too." I didn't
say a word, but cried on; till everybody in the street turned round and
stared.

"Come, come," said Stiffelkind, "do not gry, Gaptain Stobbs--it is not
goot for a Gaptain to gry--ha! ha! Dere--come vid me, and you shall have
a dinner, and a bregfast too,--vich shall gost you nothing, until you
can bay vid your earnings."

And so this curious old man, who had persecuted me all through my
prosperity, grew compassionate towards me in my ill-luck; and took me
home with him as he promised. "I saw your name among de Insolvents, and
I vowed, you know, to make you repent dem boots. Dere, now, it is done
and forgotten, look you. Here, Betty, Bettchen, make de spare bed, and
put a clean knife and fork; Lort Cornvallis is come to dine vid me."

I lived with this strange old man for six weeks. I kept his books, and
did what little I could to make myself useful: carrying about boots and
shoes, as if I had never