The clergyman briefly stated that he had been sent for on the previous evening to attend the death-bed of an individual whom he named, and who had been wounded in the affray with Captain Hartley's crew, and that, in his presence, and in the presence of the other witnesses who then stood by his side, a deposition had been taken down from his lips an hour before his death. The deposition, or confession, was handed into court; and it set forth that his hand struck the fatal blow, and with Harry Teasdale's knife, which he had found lying upon the stern of his boat on the afternoon of the day on which the deed was committed--and, farther, that Harry was not upon the beach that night. The jury looked for a moment at each other--they instantly rose, and their foreman pronounced the prisoner "_Not Guilty!_" A loud and spontaneous shout burst from the multitude. Captain Hartley sprang forward--he grasped his hand. "I forgive thee, lad," said Harry. Hartley led him from the dock--he conducted him to Fanny, whom he had taken to an adjoining inn. "Here is your father!--he is safe!--he is safe, my love!" cried Augustus, as he entered the room where she was. Fanny wept on her father's bosom, and he kissed her brow, and said, "Bless thee." "And canst thou bless me, too," said Augustus, "after all that I have done?" "Well, well, I see how it is to be," said Harry; and he took their hands and placed them in each other. I need only add, that Fanny Teasdale became the happy wife of Augustus Hartley; and Harry, having acquired a competency, gave up the trade of a smuggler. THE SCHOOLFELLOWS. A few years ago, I happened to pass through the main street of Carlisle, just as the south mail had "pulled up" at the door of "The Bush." The night was very cold; the horses were tossing their heads, and pawing the ground, impatient to escape from the restraint of their harness; and the steam, which rose in clouds from their bodies, gave evidence that they had just "come off" a rapid and fatiguing stage. At the coach-door stood a middle-aged, gentlemanly-looking man, whose blue nose, muffled throat, and frozen body, pointed him out as one of the new arrivals. As I loitered slowly past, the stranger, who had just settled the claims of the guard, turned round, and observed me. His keen eye rested for a moment on my features--he started, looked again, and then said-- "No; I cannot be mistaken. I surely ought to know that face. Is not your name Lorrimer?" "It is," replied I, surprised at being thus accosted by a perfect stranger. "You seem to be better acquainted with my name, sir, than I am with yours; for I am not conscious of ever having seen you before." "Look at me again, Frank; try if you cannot recollect me," said he, as we entered the travellers' room, and the gas-light shone full on his face. I looked; but in vain. "I am ashamed to say, I do not know who you can be, though I have a kind of consciousness that your features are those of an old friend."