that now in all probability we should never be able to ascertain his name, as, most likely, he had "died and made no sign. To our shames be it spoken, not one of us could cry a tear at his possible fate. The captain had turned into his berth, and was reposing himself after the fatigue of last night; so we could make no inquiry of him on the subject of our missing fellow-passenger. Mrs. Cummings called the steward, and asked him how long it was since he had seen anything of that gentleman. "I really can't tell, madame," replied Hamilton; "I can't pretend to charge my memory with such things. But I conclude he must have been seen yesterdayat least I rather expect he was. The waiter Juba was now appealed to. "I believe, madame,' " said Juba-"I remember something of handing that gentleman the bread-basket yesterday at dinner-but I would not be qualified as to whether the thing took place or not, my mind being a good deal engaged at the time." Solomon, the third waiter, disclaimed all positive knowledge of this or any other fact, but sagely remarked, "that it was very likely that gentleman had been about all yesterday as usual; yet still it was just as likely he might not; and there was only one thing certain, which was, that if he was not nowhere, he must, of course, be somewhere." "I have a misgiving," said Mrs. Cummings,, "that he will never be found again. Well," said Mrs. Cummings, "he is not dead, however, so we have yet a chance of knowing his name from himself, if we choose to ask him. But I'm determined I'll make the captain tell it me, as soon as he gets up. It's all nonsense, this making a secret of a man's name. After crossing the Banks we seemed to feel ourselves on American ground, or rather on American sea. As our interest increased on approaching the land of our destination, that gentleman was proportionally overlooked and forgotten. He kept the even tenor of his way," and we had become scarcely conscious that he was still among us: till one day when there was rather a hard gale, and the waves were running high, we were startled, as we surrounded the luncheon table, by a tremendous noise on the cabin staircase, and the sudden bursting open of the door at its foot. We all looked up, and saw that gentleman falling down-stairs, with both arms extended, as he held in one hand a tall cane-stool, and in the other the captain's barometer, which had hung just within the upper door; he having involuntarily caught hold of both these articles, with a view of saving himself. "While his head, as he tumbled, went nicketty nock," his countenance, for once, assumed a new expression, and the change from its usual unvarying sameness was so striking, that, combined with his ludicrous attitude, it set us all to laughing. The waiters ran forward and assisted him to rise; and it was then found that the stool and the barometer had been the greatest sufferers; one having lost a leg, and the other being so shattered that the staircarpet was covered with globules of quicksilver. However, he retired to his stateroom, and whether or not he was seen again before next morning, I cannot positively undertake to say. "I'll tell you what I can do, madame," exclaimed the steward, looking as if suddenly struck with a bright thought-"I can examine into No. eleventeen, and see if I can perceive him there." And softly opening the door of the state-room in question, he stepped back and said, with a triumphant flourish of his hand"There he is, ladies, there he is, in the upper berth, fast asleep in his double cashmere dressing-gown. I opinionate that he was one of the gentlemen that stayed on deck all night, because they were afraid to go to sleep on account of the icebergers-of course nobody noticed Next day we continued to proceed raphim-but there he is now, safe enough.' idly, with a fair wind, which we knew Instantly we proceeded en masse to- would soon bring us to the end of our wards No. eleventeen, to convince our- voyage. The ladies' cabin was now littered selves and there indeed we saw that with trunks and boxes, brought from the gentleman lying asleep in his double cash-baggage room that we might select from them such articles as we thought we should require when we went on shore. Near one o'clock I heard a voice announcing the light on the island of Neversink, and in a short time all the gentlemen were on deck. At daybreak Mr. Fenton came to ask me if I would rise and see the morning dawn upon our own country. We had taken a pilot on board at two o'clock, had a fine fair breeze to carry us into the Bay of New York, and there was every probability of our being on shore in a few hours. Soon after sunrise we were visited by a news-boat, when there was an exchange of papers, and much to inquire and much to tell. We were going rapidly through the Narrows, when the bell rung for breakfast, which Captain Santlow had ordered at an early hour, as we had all been up before daylight. Chancing to look toward his accustomed seat, I missed that gentleman, and inquired after him of the captain. "Oh!" he replied, "that gentleman went on shore in the news-boat; did you not see him depart? He bowed all round before he went down the side.' "No," was the general reply, we did not see him go.' In truth we had all been too much interested in hearing, reading, and talking of the news brought by the boat. "Then he is gone forever," exclaimed Mrs. Cummings, and we shall never know his name. 66 Come, Captain Santlow," said Mr. Fenton, try to recollect it. Let it not,' as Grumio says, 'die in oblivion, while we return to our graves inexperienced in it.' Captain Santlow smiled, and remained silent. "Now, captain," said Miss Audley, "I will not quit the ship till you tell me that gentleman's name. I cannot hold out a greater threat to you, as I know you have had a weary time of it since I have been under your charge. Come, I set not my foot on shore till I know the name of that gentleman, and also why you cannot refrain from smiling whenever you are asked about it." Well, then," replied Captain Santlow, "though his name is a very pretty one when you get it said, there is a little awkwardness in speaking it. So I thought I would save myself and my passengers the trouble. And partly for that reason, and partly to teaze you all, I have withheld it resumed Captain Santlow"and you see how difficult it is to say it smoothly. There is more sibilation in it than in any name I know. Was I not right in keeping it from you till the voyage was over, and thus sparing you the trouble of articulating it, and myself the annoyance of hearing it? See, here it is in writing.' The captain then took his manifest out of his pocket-book, and showed us the words, "Sir St. John St. Ledger, of Sevenoaks, Kent." "Pho!" exclaimed Mrs. Cummings, "where's the trouble in speaking that name, if you only knew the right way-I have heard it a hundred times-and even seen it in the newspapers. This must be the very gentleman that my cousin George's wife is always talking about. She has a brother that lives near his estate, a topping apothecary. Why, 'tis easy enough to say his name, if you say it as we do in England." And how is that?" asked the captain; "what can you make of Sir St. John St. Ledger? "Why, Sir Singeon Sillinger, to be sure;" replied Mrs. Cummings "I am confident he would have answered to that name. Sir Singeon Sillinger of Sunnock cousin George's wife's brother lives close by Sunnock in a yellow house with a red door." "And have I," said the captain, laughing, "so carefully kept his name to myself, during the whole passage, for fear we should have had to call him Sir St. John St. Ledger, when all the while we might have said Sir Singeon Sillinger!' "To be sure you might," replied Mrs. Cummings, looking proud of the opportunity of displaying her superior knowledge of something. "With all your striving after sense, you Americans are very ignorant people, particularly of the right way of speaking English. Since I have been on board, I have heard you all say the oddest things-though I thought there would be no use in trying to set you right. The other day there was Mr. Williams talking of the church of St. Mary le bon instead of saying Marrow bone. Then Mr. Belfield says, Lord Cholmondeley, instead of Lord Chumley, and Col. Sinclair instead of Col. Sinkler; and Mr. Sutton says Lady Beauchamp, instead of Lady Beachum; and you all say Birmingham instead of Brummagem. The truth is, you know nothing about English names. Now that name, Trollope, that you all sneer at so much, and think so very low, why Trollope is quite genteel in England, and so is Hussey. The Trollopes and Husseys belong to great families. But I have no doubt of finding many things that are very elegant in England counted quite vulgar in America, owing to the ignorance of your people. For my part, I was particularly brought up to despise all manner of ignorance." In a short time a steamboat came alongside, into which we removed ourselves, accompanied by the captain and the letterbags; and we proceeded up to the city, where Mr. Fenton and myself were met on the wharf, I need not tell how, and by whom. EXTRACT FROM WYCHERLEY'S "PLAIN DEALER." MANLY AND LORD PLAUSIBLE. MANLY. Tell not me, my good Lord Plausible, of your decorums, supercilious forms, and slavish ceremonies! your little tricks, which you, the spaniels of the world, do daily over and over, for and to one another; not out of love or duty, but your servile fear. PLAUSIBLE. Nay, i' faith, i' faith, you are too passionate; and I must beg your pardon and leave to tell you they are the arts and rules the prudent of the world walk by. MAN. Let 'em. But I'll have no leading-strings; I can walk alone. I hate a harness, and will not tug on in a faction, kissing my leader behind, that another may do the like to me. PLAUS. What, will you be singular then? like nobody? follow, love, and esteem nobody? MAN. Rather than be general, like you, follow everybody; court and kiss everybody? though perhaps at the same time you hate everybody. PLAUS. Why, seriously, with your pardon, my dear friend MAN. With your pardon, my no friend, I will not, as you do, whisper my hatred or my scorn, call a man fool or knave by signs or mouths over his shoulder, whilst you have him in your arms. For such as you, like common women and pickpockets, are only dangerous to those you embrace. PLAUS. Such as I? Heaven defend me! upon my honor MAN. Upon your title, my lord, if you'd have me believe you. PLAUS. Well, then, as I am a person of honor, I never attempted to abuse or lessen any person in my life. MAN. What, you were afraid? PLAUS. No, but seriously, I hate to do a rude thing; I speak well of all tankind. MAN. I thought so: but know, that speaking well of all mankind is the worst kind of detraction; for it takes away the reputation of the few good men in the world, by making all alike. Now, I speak ill of most men, because they deserve it; I that can do a rude thing, rather than an unjust thing. PLAUS. Well, tell not me, my dear friend, what people deserve; I ne'er mind that. I, like an author in a dedication, |