It was not till a late hour that they retired to bed. The next morning, the syndic, big with his intelligence, called upon his friends in person, and much to their surprise told them the contents of the despatches which had been received--and, much to his delight, discovered that he had been correctly informed. He also communicated what Ramsay had told him relative to the movements of the court of St. Germain, and thus, unintentionally, false intelligence was forwarded to England as from good authority. It hardly need be observed, that, in a very short time, Ramsay had gained the entire confidence of his host, and we may add also, of his host's daughter; but we must leave him for the present to follow up his plans, whatever they may be, and return to the personages more immediately connected with this narrative. CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. IN WHICH JEMMY DUCKS PROVES THE TRUTH OF MOGGY'S ASSERTION, THAT THERE WAS NO ONE LIKE HIM BEFORE OR SINCE--NANCY AND JEMMY SERENADE THE STARS. As soon as Moggy landed at the Point with her dear darling duck of a husband, as she called him, she put his chest and hammock on a barrow, and had them wheeled up to her own lodgings, and then they went out to call upon Nancy Corbett to make their future arrangements; Moggy proceeding in rapid strides, and Jemmy trotting with his diminutive legs behind her, something like a stout pony by the side of a large horse. It was in pedestrianism that Jemmy most felt his inferiority, and the protecting, fond way in which Moggy would turn round every minute and say, "Come along, my duck," would have been irritating to any other but one of Jemmy's excellent temper. Many looked at Jemmy, as he waddled along, smiled and passed on; one unfortunate nymph, however, ventured to stop, and putting her arms a-kimbo, looked down upon him, and exclaimed, "Yell! you are a nice little man," and then commenced singing the old refrain-- "I had a little husband no bigger than my thumb, I put him in a pint pot, and there I bid him drum." when Moggy, who had turned back, saluted her with such a box on the ear that she made the drum of it ring again. The young lady was not one of those who would offer the other cheek to be smitten, and she immediately flew at Moggy and returned the blow; but Jemmy, who liked quiet, caught her round the legs, and, as if she had been a feather, threw her over his head, so that she fell down in the gutter behind him with a violence which was anything but agreeable. She gained her legs again, looked at her soiled garments, scraped the mud off her cheek--we are sorry to add, made use of some very improper language--and, finding herself in the minority, walked off, turning round and shaking her fist at every twenty paces.