'And if it aint done in the best manner, I'll horsewhip you!' 'Yes, Sir yes, Sir;' and the landlord bustled away to execute his orders. Supper was soon announced, and the stranger, entering an adjoining room, commenced devouring the various dishes with hearty gusto.

'What are you looking at, landlord?' said the stranger, pausing a moment to take breath.

'At you, Sir.'

attention?'

At me? Why what do you see in me, to attract your 'Aint you you must be Bob Morris ?' 'Robert Fitzmorris, Esquire, if you please. I am no longer plain Bob Morris; call me so again, and I 'll throw you out of the window. I've made a fortune within six months; three hundred thousand dollars, all in Eastern lands. Hold on to your eyes, landlord, or you'll lose em; they're half out of your head, already. Keep still about it, or by the powers! if it goes beyond you, I'll not answer for your life!'

Away went Boniface, just as Bob desired, and told it to a neighbor, under a strict injunction of secrecy; this neighbor told it to another, who, in his turn, told it to a dozen others, and before sunset, it was known in every house in Blueville, that Bob Morris had returned an Esquire, and as rich as a Jew.

Instantly, invitations upon pink, green, and blue paper, were left at the Red Lion,' addressed to Robert Fitzmorris, Esquire, requesting the honor of his company. Crowds flocked around the tavern ; the 'Lion' was never so well patronized. Head above head appeared at the window of the dining room, wherein the rich man was seated. The lawyer and the justice of the peace came very near tripping one another up, as they entered the bar-room, in their haste to pay their respects. That evening Bob passed at Justice Wormwood's.

Have you any land for sale?' inquired the justice, as Bob summed up the profits that had accrued to him from one speculation.

I believe I have a few lots,' replied Mr. Fitzmorris, slowly, at the same time, drawing a map from his pocket: Here is a plan of the city of Gullem, Maine. Lot fifty-three is unchecked. Come, I'll sell you that; right in the centre of the city, and just where the dépôt of the Grand United North American Eastern Rail Road and Forwarding Company' will be located.'

But is the road finished?' interrupted the justice.

'Not quite,' answered Bob, with a slight cough; when I left, three months ago, there was a bill in the lower house of the Maine Legislature for the incorporation of the company. By this time, it has passed; the track has undoubtedly been commenced, and

But, consider, my dear Sir,' again interrupted the justice, 'the bill may have been defeated.'

'No such thing!' replied Bob, fiercely. Is my word good for nothing?'

་

'I will just read you,' continued Mr. Fitzmorris, producing a newspaper, a short paragraph from the Gullem Republican Banner, and Independent Tower of Freedom :'

'The city of Gullem is pleasantly situated upon the banks of Nowhere river, within half a mile of the extensive water works of the 'United States' Calico Stamping and North-American Cloth-dying Company,' which are now under consideration, and which will be built in the course of a few years. The proposed canal of the enterprising Water Company, uniting the waters of the St. Lawrence and the Atlantic Ocean, will pass directly across the northern boundary line, near where the great eastern turnpike empties in. The city itself is beautifully laid out in squares, and even now contains upward of ten dwelling-houses, together with a meeting-house in progress of erection. A splendid hotel is also contemplated, to stand on the vacant ground next the corner lot, offered for sale by the editor of this paper, in another column of to-day's impression. In short, we venture to predict, that at no distant day, Gullem will become the greatest commercial mart of the East. The causes are obvious. The contemplated canal, the proposed rail-road, combined with the intended extensive water-works, cannot fail to render Gullem a city of the greatest importance and first rank.'

'Now, my dear Sir,' said Bob, folding up the paper, 'what think you of fifty-three? - directly in the centre of Washington Square, opposite the Eastern Moonshine Bank,' which will undoubtedly be built, so soon as a company is formed. Now is your only chance. I ask but five hundred dollars; fifty-four sold for a thousand.'

'Do you think I can sell it at a profit?' inquired the justice. Treble your money in six weeks! Wait but till the rail-road, the canal, and the water works, get going, and the lot will sell for eight or ten hundred per cent. profit. I'll guarantee it.'

Will you give me that in writing, if I buy the land?'

'I will,' replied Bob, unhesitatingly.

Then, Sir, I'll give you an answer to-morrow.'

Mr. Fitzmorris took up his hat, and wishing the justice good night, repaired to the Red Lion,' where, before he went to bed, he struck a bargain with the landlord for a small strip of Gullem, at the rate of a hundred dollars an acre, half to be paid cash on the nail, and the remainder in bond and mortgage, at one and two years.

The next day Blueville was all alive with speculation in eastern lands. A special town-meeting was held, and it was voted unanimously, to invest the surplus revenue of the parish in Gullem houselots, through the agency of Robert Fitzmorris, Esquire. Justice Wormwood bought lot fifty-three, and long before noon, every inch of ground, house-lots, and meadow and pasture-land, in the possession of our hero, was all sold; the purchasers paying cash upon the spot. So many deeds could not be made out at once; the town-crier therefore circulated notice, far and near, that early on Monday morning, the deeds would be ready for delivery. It was then Saturday. Things passed off quietly until Sunday afternoon, when Bob suddenly ordered his horses to be put into his carriage, and telling Boniface he was only going to drive a little distance into the country, jumped in and drove off, apparently for a ride. He kept on, until Blueville had long been lost in the distance, when he stopped by the side of a thick clump of trees, and giving a low whistle, a man appeared whom he immediately recognised as Mr. Joe Jenkins.

'Aha!' exclaimed Jenkins, how did you make out?'

'First rate!' replied Bob, producing several bags of dollars. The spoils were divided, each receiving seven hundred dollars in specie.

'And now,' said Jenkins, 'we must make ourselves scarce. Take up the reins, Bob, and crack away!' Bob did so, and a few hours sufficed to carry them far enough from Blueville.

Great was the dismay depicted upon the countenances of all concerned in Gullem lands, when they gathered about the Red Lion,' on Monday morning, upon being informed by the landlord that Bob had a second time absconded.

By Christopher!' exclaimed Justice Wormwood, 'my five hundred dollars and lot fifty-three are gone with him!'

The parish fund has gone to the devil!' growled the parish clerk. He didn't pay his board, and has carried off my fifty dollars !' echoed Boniface, of the Red Lion.'

Well, we always predicted how he'd turn out!' said a number, who had been secretly envious, that they were not able to buy lots in Gullem.

This, then, is the reason why Blueville never got ahead. This little circumstance put a damper upon the enterprise of her merchants. A speculator is an outlawed personage there; and to this day, its inhabitants cannot hear the name of EASTERN LANDS,' without involuntarily gnashing their teeth. They speak of the above transaction but seldom, and invariably as 'the dead shave!'

His last words are finished: his spirit has fled,
And now lies in silence the form of the dead;
The lamps in the chamber are flickering dim,
And sadly the mourners are chanting their hymn;
And now to the greenwood, and now on the sod,
Where lighted the arrow, the mourners have trod ;
And thus by the river, where dark forests wave,
That noble old Archer hath found him a grave!
Cambridge, September, 1838.

R. C. W

THOUGHTS ON HAND-WRITING.

BY THE LATE R. C. SANDS.

I HAVE had reasons for meditating much on the mystery of handwritings, though my reflections have resulted in no new discoveries; and I have neither solved any of the paradoxes, nor come to a defnite conclusion on any of the doubtful points with which the subject is pregnant. The first difficulty which was suggested to my mind about it, occurred in early childhood. I could not discover how the rapping me over the knuckles with a long, round, lignumvitæ ruler, until those articulations were discolored and lame, was to assist me in using my fingers with ease and grace, in copying the pithy scraps of morality which were set before me. My master, however, seemed to think it was good for me. The poor man took a world of pains, and gave me a great many, to very little purpose. He was very fond of quoting to me a passage from Horace, in an English version he had picked up somewhere, of the fidelity of which I have since had my doubts:

'In wisdom and sound knowledge to excel,

Is the chief cause and source of writing well:
The manuscripts of Socrates were writ

So fairly, because he had so much wit.'

I have, how

I certainly never became a proficient in calligraphy. ever, in the course of my life, been consoled for my own imperfections on this score, by observing scholars, statesmen, and gentlemen at large, who passed very well in the world, and obtained professorships, outfits, and salaries, and the entrée into polite society, whose signs manual were hieroglyphics, which Champollion himself would give up in despair. Their whole manipulation (as the learned would say,) with pen, ink, and paper, produced a result so utterly undecipherable, that, instead of its painting thought, and speaking to the eyes,' if their secretaries or correspondents had not known what they wanted to say, or to have said for them, the persons interested in their despatches might as well have been in the innocent situation of John Lump and Looney Mactwolter, when they had mixed the billyduckses.'

I have known lawyers and doctors, whose autographic outpourings the solicitor and apothecary alone understood, by professional instinct; and yet the bills in chancery of the former, fairly engrossed, produced suits which are not yet decided; and the prescriptions of the latter found their way into the patient's system, and caused a great effect.

There is one thing, however, on which I have made up my mind decidedly; which is, that a person who writes so detestable a hand that he cannot read it himself, acts in an improper manner, and abuses the gift which Cadmus was good enough to introduce into Europe.

The character of my own writing seems somewhat amended, since time has laid his frosty hand upon my head, and cramped the joints

of my fingers. It is less capricious in the variety of directions in which the letters run, and less luxuriant in gratuitous additions to their tops, and bottoms, and natural terminations. They look more like a platoon of regular troops, and less like a militia-training; more like an arrangement produced by the agency of human intellect, and less like the irregular scratches made by the brute creation in the surface of the soil. So that I get along without any material difficulty; and have, indeed, been sometimes complimented on the elegance of my writing.

One thing which has always been unaccountable to me, is the nice acquaintance some persons acquire with the signatures of particular individuals, so that they can detect a forgery at first sight, however well it may be executed, and can swear to the spuriousness of the sophisticated writing. Neither, for the life of me, can I understand the wisdom of the rule of evidence, which makes the question important, whether a witness has ever seen the person write, about whose autography he is interrogated. I am sure it would puzzle the twelve judges of England to explain why our having seen a man write, should enable us to distinguish the character of his hand, any more than we should be enabled to identify his clothes, by having seen him put them on.

That the intellectual and moral character of a person may be ascertained from his hand-writing, is a theory in which many are fond of believing. It seems, certainly, a more plausible one than those of chiromancy or phrenology; but beyond a certain extent, I think it can be shown to be as visionary as either. Up to a certain point, however, it may be far more rational.

The sex of the writer may be conjectured with more infallibility than any other attribute:

'The bridegroom's letters stand in row above,

Tapering, yet straight, like pine trees in his grove;
While free and fine, the bride's appear below,
As light and slender as her jasmines grow.'

Still, you cannot always tell, from the appearance of a manuscript, whether a lady or a gentleman has held the pen. I had a female relative, who was a strong, stout-built woman, to be sure; but she wrote a hand so formidably masculine, that the only suitor who ever made her an offer, was terrified out of his negotiation by the first billet-doux he had the honor of receiving from her. He was a slender and delicately made man, and wrote a fine Italian hand.

Next to the sex, the age of a writer may be guessed at with most certainty from the chirograph. If the gods had made me poetical, I would paraphrase the seven ages of Shakspeare, (omitting, of course, the infant in his nurse's arms,) with reference to this theme. But I must leave it to some fitter minstrel.' There are, however, more exceptions to this than to the former proposition. Some people write a puerile hand all their lives: and the gravest maxims, the profoundest thoughts, the most abstruse reasonings, have sometimes been originally imbodied in signs as fantastical as the scrawl made in sport by a child. On the other hand, men of regular temperament, and methodical habits of business, will acquire a formal and