it and, lo, when Mr. Collis showed the package and opened it, instead of an Odd Fellow's card, it turned out to be a daguerreotype likeness of one of that gentleman's lady friends which, through some inadvertence, Mr. Collis had substituted for what he had intended to guard with so much care. The Major taking this mistake for a wilful personal insult, stormed wildly and remanded the six prisoners for further trial, when they were confined with other captives in Eader's hotel at Sandy Hook. It will be believed that, under the circumstances, they were a gloomy party and, in view of the probability that things would grow worse as the night advanced, the author uttered a pious ejaculation, expressing a wish that he had the freedom of Sandy Hook for half an hour to improve the commissariat of the prisoners which was rather scant and entirely wanting in that article so indispensable to people in trouble and to many under any circumstances--whiskey. As luck would have it, the prayer reached the ear of the sentinel at the prison door, who was a six-foot representative of that beautiful island which is so touchingly described by one of its inspired sons as: "Poor, dear, ould Ireland, that illigent place Where whiskey's for nothing and a beating for less." The word "whiskey" was the sesame to the sentinel's heart. He looked around cautiously to see if the officer of the guard was near and, the coast being clear, he opened the door and, in a confidential way, remarked that he supposed the speaker was a =dacent= boy who would do the =clane= thing and that he--the sentinel--would run the risk of letting him out =on= parole of honor for half an hour. The offer was accepted joyfully and, in an incredibly short time, the author, who in those days, "knew all the ropes," returned with a load of crackers, cheese and sausages, pipes and tobacco, and the main desideratum, a very corpulent bottle of "tangle foot," a very appropriate name for the particular brand of Sandy Hook whiskey. With these refreshments and a greasy pack of cards, the night wore away pleasantly and, before morning, the Irish sentinel was the jolliest man of the party for, on every passage of the bottle, his services were gratefully remembered and rewarded with a jorum. When the time came for relieving the guard the sentinel was too drunk to stand upright and present arms and the sergeant who, too, was a good fellow or who was, perhaps, himself drunk, did not change the guard. Anyway, the jolly Irishman was left at the post 'till morning and he did not complain of the hardship of losing his sleep. The greater number of his prisoners were too top-heavy to make their escape, even if they were inclined to play false with their indulgent keeper. Next day they were examined again and subjected to various sentences according to their supposed delinquencies or their ability to do mischief. The hapless author was condemned to banishment