That day he sold out every hapny he was worth, xcept five hundred pounds. . . . . . . Abowt 12 master had returned, and Mr. Dick Blewitt came stridin up the stairs with a sollum and important hair. “Is your master at home?” says he. “Yes, sir,” says I; and in he walks. I, in coars, with my ear to the keyhole, listning with all my mite. “Well,” says Blewitt, “we maid a pretty good night of it, Mr. Deuceace. Yu've settled, I see, with Dawkins.” “Settled!” says master. “Oh, yes--yes--I've settled with him.” “Four thousand seven hundred, I think?” “About that--yes.” “That makes my share--let me see--two thousand three hundred and fifty; which I'll thank you to fork out.” “Upon my word--why--Mr. Blewitt,” says master, “I don't really understand what you mean.” “YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I MEAN!” says Blewitt, in an axent such as I never before heard. “You don't know what I mean! Did you not promise me that we were to go shares? Didn't I lend you twenty sovereigns the other night to pay our losings to Dawkins? Didn't you swear, on your honor as a gentleman, to give me half of all that might be won in this affair?” “Agreed, sir,” says Deuceace; “agreed.” “Well, sir, and now what have you to say?” “Why, THAT I DON'T INTEND TO KEEP MY PROMISE! You infernal fool and ninny! do you suppose I was laboring for YOU? Do you fancy I was going to the expense of giving a dinner to that jackass yonder, that you should profit by it? Get away, sir! Leave the room, sir! Or, stop--here--I will give you four hundred pounds--your own note of hand, sir, for that sum, if you will consent to forget all that has passed between us, and that you have never known Mr. Algernon Deuceace.” I've seen pipple angery before now, but never any like Blewitt. He stormed, groaned, belloed, swoar! At last, he fairly began blubbring; now cussing and nashing his teeth, now praying dear Mr. Deuceace to grant him mercy. At last, master flung open the door (heaven bless us! it's well I didn't tumble hed over eels into the room!), and said, “Charles, show the gentleman down stairs!” My master looked at him quite steddy. Blewitt slunk down, as misrabble as any man I ever see. As for Dawkins, heaven knows where he was! . . . . . . “Charles,” says my master to me, about an hour afterwards, “I'm going to Paris; you may come, too, if you please.” FORING PARTS. It was a singular proof of my master's modesty, that though he had won this andsome sum of Mr. Dawkins, and was inclined to be as extravygant and osntatious as any man I ever seed, yet, when he determined on going to Paris, he didn't let a single frend know of all them winnings of his; didn't acquaint my Lord Crabs his father, that he was about to leave his natiff shoars--neigh--didn't even so much as call together his tradesmin, and pay off their little bills befor his departure.