Dan and Samuel had been all this time in the upper lofts, and were now called down. When questioned as to their opinions about the disappearance of certain articles, they both denied all knowledge, and affected the ignorance of innocence; but, when they were sharply told to lead us to their tin buckets, their features underwent a remarkable change, and assumed a strange grey colour. Dan pretended to forget where he had placed his bucket; but, when Mr. Speake took him by the collar and led him to the broom that hid it, he fell on his knees, and begged his master’s pardon. Mr. Speake was, however, too angry to listen to him, and, snatching the lid off, revealed to us half a gallon of the best golden syrup, which the wretch had intended to have taken home. When Sam’s useful utensil was examined, it was found that its owner had a preference for sweet Malmsey wine! A constable was called in, and Dan and Samuel were marched off to the watch-house, to receive on the next day such a flogging as only practised State-officials know how to administer. Dan, a few days later, was reinstated at the store; but Samuel was disposed of to a planter, for field-work. The last Sunday morning Mr. Stanley was in the city, on this occasion, was marked with a visit he paid to me at my humble boarding-house. He was pleased to express his great surprise that, at that early hour, my attic was arranged as though for inspection. He scrutinised my book-case, and remarked that I had a pretty broad taste, and suggested that I should procure various books which he mentioned. In self-defence, I was obliged to plead poverty, and explained that my books were only such as I could obtain at a second-hand book-stall. He finally condescended to breakfast with me, and made himself especially agreeable to Mrs. Williams and her guests; after which, we went to church, and thence he took me to dine with him. In the afternoon, we drove in a carriage down Levee Street, past the French Market, and I was shown many of the public buildings, banks, and squares; and, later, we took a short railway trip to Lake Ponchartrain, which is a fair piece of water, and is a great resort for bathers. When we returned to the city, late in the evening, I was fairly instructed in the topography of the city and neighbourhood, and had passed a most agreeable and eventful day. On the next evening, I found a parcel addressed to me, which, when opened, disclosed a dozen new books in splendid green and blue covers, bearing the names of Shakespeare, Byron, Irving, Goldsmith, Ben Jonson, Cowper, etc. They were a gift from Mr. Stanley, and in each book was his autograph.