Well, he put on the best of his coats--a blue; and I thought it my duty to ask him whether he'd want his frock again: he was good natured and said, “Take it and be hanged to you.” Half-past eleven o'clock came, and I was sent to look out at the door, if there were any suspicious charicters (a precious good nose I have to find a bailiff out, I can tell you, and an i which will almost see one round a corner); and presenly a very modest green glass coach droave up, and in master stept. I didn't in corse, appear on the box; because, being known, my appearints might have compromised master. But I took a short cut, and walked as quick as posbil down to the Rue de Foburg St. Honore, where his exlnsy the English ambasdor lives, and where marridges are always performed betwigst English folk at Paris. . . . . . . There is, almost nex door to the ambasdor's hotel, another hotel, of that lo kind which the French call cabbyrays, or wine-houses; and jest as master's green glass-coach pulled up, another coach drove off, out of which came two ladies, whom I knew pretty well,--suffiz, that one had a humpback, and the ingenious reader will know why SHE came there; the other was poor Miss Kicksey, who came to see her turned off. Well, master's glass-coach droav up, jest as I got within a few yards of the door; our carridge, I say, droav up, and stopt. Down gits coachmin to open the door, and comes I to give Mr. Deuceace an arm, when out of the cabaray shoot four fellows, and draw up betwigst the coach and embassy-doar; two other chaps go to the other doar of the carridge, and, opening it, one says--“Rendez-vous, M. Deuceace! Je vous arrete au nom de la loi!” (which means, “Get out of that, Mr. D.; you are nabbed and no mistake.”) Master turned gashly pail, and sprung to the other side of the coach, as if a serpint had stung him. He flung open the door, and was for making off that way; but he saw the four chaps standing betwigst libbarty and him. He slams down the front window, and screams out, “Fouettez, cocher!” (which means, “Go it, coachmm!”) in a despert loud voice; but coachmin wooden go it, and besides was off his box. The long and short of the matter was, that jest as I came up to the door two of the bums jumped into the carridge. I saw all; I knew my duty, and so very mornfly I got up behind. “Tiens,” says one of the chaps in the street; “c'est ce drole qui nous a floure l'autre jour.” I knew 'em, but was too melumcolly to smile. “Ou irons-nous donc?” says coachmin to the genlmn who had got inside. A deep woice from the intearor shouted out, in reply to the coachmin, “A SAINTE PELAGIE!” . . . . . .