._ The buskin of
That leg's untied; stoop down and fasten it.
You know the point where you must round the cliff?

_Alb._ I do.

_Tell._ Thy belt is slack--draw it tight.
Erni is in Mount Faigel: take this dagger
And give it him! you know its caverns well.
In one of them you will find him. Farewell.

A VENTRILOQUIST ON A STAGE-COACH.

HENRY COCKTON.

"Now then, look alive there!" shouted the coachman from the
booking-office door, as Valentine and his Uncle John approached. "Have
yow got that are mare's shoe made comfor'ble, Simon!"

"All right, sir," said Simon, and he went round to see if it were so,
while the luggage was being secured.

"Jimp up, genelmen!" cried the coachman, as he waddled from the office
with his whip in one hand and his huge way-bill in the other; and the
passengers accordingly proceeded to arrange themselves on the various
parts of the coach,--Valentine, by the particular desire of Uncle
John, having deposited himself immediately behind the seat of the
coachman.

"If you please," said an old lady, who had been standing in the
gateway upwards of an hour, "will you be good enow, please, to take
care of my darter?"

"All safe," said the coachman, untwisting the reins. "She shaunt take
no harm. Is she going all the way?"

"Yes, sir," replied the old lady; "God bless her! She's got a place in
Lunnun, an' I'm told--"

"Hook on them ere two sacks o' whoats there behind," cried the
coachman; "I marn't go without 'em this time.--Now, all right there?"

"Good by, my dear," sobbed the old lady, "do write to me soon, be sure
you do,--I only want to hear from you often. Take care of yourself."

"Hold hard!" cried the coachman, as the horses were dancing, on the
cloths being drawn from their loins. "Whit, whit!" and away they
pranced, as merrily as if they had known that _their_ load was nothing
when compared with the load they left behind them. Even old Uncle
John, as he cried "Good by, my dear boy," and waved his hand for the
last time, felt the tears trickling down his cheeks.

The salute was returned, and the coach passed on.

The fulness of Valentine's heart caused him for the first hour to
be silent; but after that, the constant change of scene and the pure
bracing air had the effect of restoring his spirits, and he felt
a powerful inclination to sing. Just, however, as he was about to
commence for his own amusement, the coach stopped to c