; "but you must permit me to go to my lodgings first. I
shall be back immediately."

"Very good. Remember, we dine in the course of an hour, so be
punctual."

While Tom Collins hurried away to his lodgings, Ned Sinton proceeded
towards the shores of the bay in a remarkably happy frame of mind,
intending to pass his leisure hour in watching the thousands of
interesting and amusing incidents that were perpetually taking place on
the crowded quays, where the passengers from a newly-arrived brig were
looking in bewildered anxiety after their luggage, and calling for
porters; where traffic, by means of boats, between the fleet and the
land created constant confusion and hubbub; where men of all nations
bargained for the goods of all climes in every known tongue.

While he gazed in silence at the exciting and almost bewildering scene,
his attention was attracted to a group of men, among whose vociferating
tones he thought he distinguished familiar voices.

"That's it; here's your man, sir," cried one, bursting from the crowd
with a huge portmanteau on his shoulder. "Now, then, where'll I steer
to?"

"Right ahead to the best hotel," answered a slim Yankee, whose black
coat, patent-leather boots, and white kids, in such a place, told
plainly enough that a superfine dandy had mistaken his calling.

"Ay, ay, sir!" shouted Bill Jones, as he brushed past Ned, in his new
capacity of porter.

"Faix, ye've cotched a live Yankee!" exclaimed a voice there was no
mistaking, as the owner slapped Bill on the shoulder. "He'll make yer
fortin', av ye only stick by him. He's just cut out for the diggin's,
av his mother wos here to take care of him."

Larry O'Neil gave a chuckle, slapped his pockets, and cut an elephantine
caper, as he turned from contemplating the retreating figure of his
shipmate's employer, and advanced towards the end of the quay.

"Now, thin, who's nixt?" cried he, holding out both arms, and looking
excited, as if he were ready to carry off any individual bodily in his
arms to any place, for mere love, without reference to money. "Don't
all spake at wance. Tshoo dollars a mile for anythin' onder a ton, an'
yerself on the top of it for four! Horoo, Mister Sinton, darlint, is it
yerself? Och, but this is the place intirely--goold and silver for the
axin' a'most! Ah, ye needn't grin. Look here!"

Larry plunged both hands into the pockets of his trousers, and pulled
them forth full of half and quarter d