inuendoes--scarcely hoping that they would be attended to. They were,
however; for on examining my stocking on the eventful morning, the
long-coveted pocket-book was found sticking in the toe--and what was
still better, well supplied with contents. I was in ecstasy for
sometime after; but wishing to do something to signalize myself, I now
placed it in the hands of the Rev. Mr. Motley for safe keeping.

"Mark my words," said Mammy prophetically, "you'll never see a sign of
that pocket-book again."

Alas! her words were but too true; circumstances came to light not very
favorable to the character of our visitor; and that very night the Rev.
Mr. Motley secretly decamped--mentioning in a note left behind, that
unlooked-for events had hastened his departure. My little pocket-book
accompanied him, as he quite forgot to return it; and Mammy's triumph
was almost as provoking as the loss. She had, however, with
characteristic caution, abstracted whatever money it contained; and the
reflection that the reverend gentleman had not gained much, gave her
considerable pleasure. The lesson taught me not to trust strangers again
too readily, and my father imbibed somewhat of a prejudice against
travelling clergymen in distress. Rev. Mr. Motley was never again heard
of.

We once had a visit from a Captain Vardell, an acquaintance of my
father's, who had married a Spanish woman. This Captain had spent much
of his time at sea; roving about from place to place, until at length he
settled down for some years in Spain. He had no relations in America,
and but little money, so that of course my father's house, the usual
refuge of the needy and distressed, was at once his destination. He
appeared to us an indolent, good-natured kind of a man, and his wife