Augustus Fumbleton, Esq., it must be confessed, was not at all troubled with matrimonial jars or grievances. He was not a married man, but, as he often expressed it, “soon would be.” “In a month or two, all this business of Phillip’s will be over, and then I’ll settle down,” he thought, “turn over a new leaf, and have his wife for my mistress. What a head old Sir Andrew, her father, has got to be sure. “He attends church regularly, I hear, and is looked upon out in the country as a perfect ‘saint.’ “Ah, church-going folks ain’t always the best. There’s many a man sits with a prayer book in his hand who’s thinking of something else. Never mind, we’ll do this little trick and then I’ll cry ‘quits.’” If Messrs. Redgill, Sir Andrew and Fumbleton were situated as we have described, Charley Warbeck, Ned’s brother, was in the greatest sorrow and concern for the safety of his young wife, and very despondent in spirits. NOW READY, THE BOY SAILOR; OR, LIFE ON BOARD A MAN-OF-WAR. This will be found one of the most exciting and powerful tales of the day. The scene of the story is laid in Cornwall, and it abounds with the wild legends and strange adventures of the daring wreckers and smugglers that haunt the bays and inlets of that rocky coast. FOUR ENGRAVINGS, IN A HANDSOME COLOURED BORDER, GIVEN AWAY WITH NUMBERS 1 and 2. ORDER EARLY. ONE PENNY WEEKLY. [Illustration: THE DISCOVERY OF THE VICTIM.—_See Number 18._] Her health had been very precarious for several weeks, and the anxious young husband was troubled exceedingly for her safety. For the doctors in attendance in consultation looked very serious and gloomy, and held out but little hope of her recovery. Dame Worthington and Mistress Haylark were almost in constant attendance both day and night. But the latter was so much given to long naps in her arm-chair, and so fretful during her occasional attendance, that Dame Worthington thought it advisable to stay up at night herself, now that she had somewhat recovered from the poison Sir Andrew had given her. Instead of frightening the poor girl with stories and hobgoblin notions regarding her particularly critical position, the good, kind, old lady cheered her with all the funny anecdotes she could remember, and often made her laugh heartily and forget all about her sickness. Oftentimes when Clara was asleep, this ever-watchful old lady would lean across the bed and kiss her, and then turn away with tears in her eyes. Night after night she watched beside the poor suffering girl, and her delicate patient could not disturb a single curl upon her pillow without she arose, readjusted the bed-clothes and dampened her fevered brow. The parting of Charley with his wife every morning ere he went to business, was of the most tender description.