On leaving Whitefield House the night proved so intensely dark that my young friend found himself quite bewildered, and scarcely know whether to turn to the right or the left, being unacquainted with the locality. Fortunately turning to the right, he stumbled along the miserable road, and with the utmost difficulty made his way onward, but not without misgivings of being knocked down and robbed, as there had been several daring attacks made upon people at night in that vicinity. He fervently wished himself in Liverpool, but shortly arriving at the West Derby-road he began to understand his "whereabouts." Having proceeded a few yards, a carriage passed him driven by a postilion. There was an unoccupied dicky behind, which my young friend thought it seemed a pity not to appropriate. Quick as youth and activity prompted, he climbed upon the carriage with the notion of the Dutchman "that it was better to ride than walk," and found his condition materially benefited by being carried through the darkness of the night instead of walking. When the carriage reached the London-road my friend thought it was time to alight, as he was then near home; but to his dismay he found that, although it was very easy to get up, it was not very easy to get down in safety. On he went with the carriage until it arrived at Lime-street, and began to turn down Roe-street, which was a good mile from my friend's lodgings. What was to be done? A bold thought struck him. "Hallo, hallo! I'll get down here!" he cried. Upon this the postilion pulled up short, when down came the window of the carriage, and an inquiry from it took place as to the reason of the stoppage. My friend had by this time managed to drop off his perch, when he found the head protruding was that of the excellent lessee of the Theatre Royal, Mr. Lewis. As he was quite as polite a man as the worthy lessee himself, on finding to whom he had been indebted for his ride, he made a very low bow, with thanks for his most welcome "lift," exclaiming with Buckingham, "I will remember that your Grace is bountiful." In very sharp tones "John" was told to drive on, while my friend walked away, quietly laughing in his sleeve at the success of his impudence, but regretting that he had not alighted sooner to be nearer home.