One morning, shortly after the disasters which we have described, Mr. Witherington descended to his breakfast-room somewhat earlier than usual, and found his green morocco easy-chair already tenanted by no less a personage than William the footman, who, with his feet on the fender, was so attentively reading the newspaper that he did not hear his master's entrance. 'By my ancestor, who fought on his stumps! but I hope you are quite comfortable, Mr. William; nay, I beg I may not disturb you, sir.' William, although as impudent as most of his fraternity, was a little taken aback: 'I beg your pardon, sir, but Mr. Jonathan had not time to look over the paper.' 'Nor is it required that he should, that I know of, sir.' 'Mr. Jonathan says, sir, that it is always right to look over the _deaths_, that news of that kind may not shock you.' 'Very considerate, indeed.' 'And there is a story there, sir, about a shipwreck.' 'A shipwreck! where, William? God bless me! where is it?' 'I am afraid it is the same ship you are so anxious about, sir--the----I forget the name, sir.' Mr. Witherington took the newspaper, and his eye soon caught the paragraph in which the rescue of the two negroes and child from the wreck of the _Circassian_ was fully detailed. 'It is indeed!' exclaimed Mr. Witherington. 'My poor Cecilia in an open boat! one of the boats was seen to go down--perhaps she's dead--merciful God! one boy saved. Mercy on me! where's Jonathan?' [Illustration: _Found his green morocco easy-chair already tenanted by William the footman._] 'Here, sir,' replied Jonathan, very solemnly, who had just brought in the eggs, and now stood erect as a mute behind his master's chair, for it was a case of danger, if not of death. 'I must go to Portsmouth immediately after breakfast--shan't eat, though--appetite all gone.' 'People seldom do, sir, on these melancholy occasions,' replied Jonathan. 'Will you take your own carriage, sir, or a mourning coach?' 'A mourning coach at fourteen miles an hour, with two pair of horses! Jonathan, you're crazy.' 'Will you please to have black silk hatbands and gloves for the coachman and servants who attend you, sir?' 'Confound your shop! no; this is a resurrection, not a death: it appears that the negro thinks only one of the boats went down.' '_Mors omnia vincit_,' quoth Jonathan, casting up his eyes. 'Never you mind that; mind your own business. That's the postman's knock--see if there are any letters.' There were several; and amongst the others there was one from Captain Maxwell, of the _Eurydice_, detailing the circumstances already known, and informing Mr. Witherington that he had despatched the two negroes and the child to his address by that day's coach, and that one of the officers, who was going to town by the same conveyance, would see them safe to his house.