At five o'clock, in rushed my Jackal. His story, disentangled from oaths and ejaculations, amounted to this:--In answer to one of the advertisements he occasionally addresses "To the Embarrassed," in the columns of the "Times," he received a note from a lady, who said she was anxious to get a "bill done"--the acceptance of a well-known man of rank and fashion. A correspondence was opened, and an appointment made. At the hour fixed, neatly shaved, brushed, gloved, booted--the revival, in short, of that high-bred Frank Fisherton, who was so famous. "In his hot youth, when Crockford's was the thing," glowing with only one glass of brandy "just to steady his nerves," he met the lady at a West-end pastry-cook's. After a few words (for all the material questions had been settled by correspondence) she stepped into her brougham; and invited Frank to take a seat beside her. Elated with a compliment of late years so rare, he commenced planning the orgies which were to reward him for weeks of enforced fasting, when the coachman, reverentially touching his hat, looked down from his seat for orders. "To ninety-nine, George-street, St. James," cried Fisherton, in his loudest tones. In an instant, the young lady's pale face changed to scarlet, and then to ghastly green. In a whisper, rising to a scream, she exclaimed, "Good heavens! you do not mean to _that_ man's house" (meaning me). "Indeed, I can not go to him, on any account; he is a most horrid man, I am told, and charges most extravagantly." "Madam," answered Frank, in great perturbation, "I beg your pardon, but you have been grossly misinformed. I have known that excellent man these twenty years, and have paid him hundreds on hundreds; but never so much by ten per cent. as you offered me for discounting your bill." "Sir, I can not have any thing to do with your friend." Then, violently pulling the check-string, "Stop," she gasped: "and _will you_ have the goodness to get out?" "And so I got out," continued Fisherton, "and lost my time; and the heavy investment I made in getting myself up for the assignation; new primrose gloves, and a shilling to the hair-dresser--hang her! But, did you ever know any thing like the prejudices that must prevail against you? I am disgusted with human nature. Could you lend me half a sovereign till Saturday?" I smiled; I sacrificed the half-sovereign and let him go, for he is not exactly the person to whom it was advisable to intrust all the secrets relating to the Honorable Miss Snape. Since that day I look each morning in the police reports, with considerable interest; but, up to the present hour, the Honorable Miss Snape has lived and thrived in the best society. TO BE READ AT DUSK. BY CHARLES DICKENS. One, two, three, four, five. There were five of them.