I received Mr. Sefton's announcement in all seriousness, and thanked him. What would he have me do? He replied that my own judgment must dictate, but that he supposed it would be best for all parties to remove quietly to another State and apply for a divorce. I promised to consider the matter, and after many mutual compliments he departed. 'What does this mean?' I mused. 'The supposition of an intrigue is preposterous. Probably Foster has merely deceived Evelyn as he did Sefton, in order to obtain her bounty. But why make her visits so secret? That is easily explained;--she does not wish to be connected publicly with any unhappy sequences of her former histrionic career. I will have an interview with Foster before proceeding further.' I visited him that night, pushing into the house immediately after the black female servant who opened the door, lest I should be refused admittance. I found Foster in a half-intoxicated condition, seated comfortably at a table, with a pipe in his hand, and liquor before him. 'I am Mr. Bell,' said I, 'and had learned from my wife of your destitute condition, which I came to relieve. But you appear in excellent circumstances.' Through his intoxication there was an evidence of confusion, as he stammered out,-- 'Yes, sir; much obliged to you. Take a seat--a seat. Good spell now. Doctor prescribes a little comfort, you know, old boy!' 'A very kind doctor, I should judge, Mr. Foster, and I am glad to find you in such a good condition. Suppose I take a glass with you?' 'Certainly. Very happy--happy. Your health, sir.' 'I hope, sir,' I said, 'that you will soon recover, after the attentions of my wife and Mr. Sefton.' 'Sefton!' he exclaimed. 'Rascal! D--d rascal! sir.' He continued murmuring in his throat, 'Rascal! D--d rascal!' 'I'll take another glass,' said I. 'The liquor is very good--very good, sir. Who furnishes it?' 'Liquor! Yes--very good! Sefton--yes, Sefton sent it. Rascal! D--d rascal!' (in a murmur, as before.) 'Now, Foster,' said I, 'I am rich. There is a purse,--and pretty well filled. I will give it to you, and others like it, if you will tell me why Sefton is a rascal, and how you happen to be connected with him.' His eyes glistened with greediness, as I anticipated. He grasped the purse and thrust it into his pocket, then immediately pulled it out, tossed it on the table, leaned his head down on his arms and began to sob, all in the most maudlin manner. TO BE CONTINUED. A SONG OF FREEDOM. Not now, my tongue, to legends old, Or tender lays of sunny clime; A sterner tale must now be told, Deep thoughts must burn in warlike rhyme; For Freedom, with a mighty throe, Rouses from sleep to active life, And loud her clarion trumpets blow, To summon _men_ to join the strife.