narrowly escapes well-merited punishment from the nails of the
British Fair--Lionel Haughton, in the temerity of youth, braves the
dangers of a British Railway.

The morning was dull and overcast, rain gathering in the air, when Vance
and Lionel walked to Waife's lodging. As Lionel placed his hand on the
knocker of the private door, the Cobbler, at his place by the window in
the stall beside, glanced towards him, and shook his head.

"No use knocking, gentlemen. Will you kindly step in?--this way."

"Do you mean that your lodgers are out?" asked Vance.

"Gone!" said the Cobbler, thrusting his awl with great vehemence through
the leather destined to the repair of a ploughman's boot.

"Gone--for good!" cried Lionel; "you cannot mean it. I call by
appointment."

"Sorry, sir, for your trouble. Stop a bit; I have a letter here for
you." The Cobbler dived into a drawer, and from a medley of nails and
thongs drew forth a letter addressed to L. Haughton, Esq.

"Is this from Waife? How on earth did he know my surname? you never
mentioned it, Vance?"

"Not that I remember. But you said you found him at the inn, and
they knew it there. It is on the brass-plate of your knapsack. No
matter,--what does he say?" and Vance looked over his friend's shoulder
and read.

SIR,--I most respectfully thank you for your condescending kindness
to me and my grandchild; and your friend, for his timely and
generous aid. You will pardon me that the necessity which knows no
law obliges me to leave this place some hours before the time of
your proposed visit. My grandchild says you intended to ask her
sometimes to write to you. Excuse me, sir--on reflection, you will
perceive how different your ways of life are from those which she
must tread with me. You see before you a man who--but I forget; you
see him no more, and probably never will.

Your most humble and most obliged, obedient servant,

W. W.

VANCE.--"Who never more may trouble you--trouble you! Where have they
gone?"

COBBLER.--"Don't know; would you like to take a peep in the
crystal--perhaps you've the gift, unbeknown?"

VANCE.--"Not I--bah! Come away, Lionel."

"Did not Sophy even leave any message for me?" asked the boy,
sorrowfully.

"To be sure she did; I forgot-no, not exactly a message, but this--I was
to be sure to give it to you." And out of his miscellaneous receptacle
the Cobbler extracted a littl