present of the lithographick outline of the lots, which was a very liberal thing on his part, considering the map was a beautiful specimen of that glorious art. Poopoo could not admire it sufficiently. There were his sixty lots, as uniform as possible, and his little gray eyes sparkled like diamonds as they wandered from one end of the spacious sheet to the other.

Poopoo's heart was as light as a feather, and he snapped his fingers in the very wantonness of joy as he repaired to Delmonico's, and ordered the first good French dinner that had gladdened his palate since his arrival in America.

After having discussed his repast, and washed it down with a bottle of choice old claret, he resolved upon a visit to Long-Island to view his purchase. He consequently immediately hired a horse and gig, crossed the Brooklyn ferry, and drove along the margin of the river to the Wallabout, the location in question.

Our friend, however, was not a little perplexed to find his property. Everything on the map was as fair and even as possible, while all the grounds about him were as undulated as they could well be imagined, and there was an elbow of the East-river thrusting itself quite into the ribs of the land, which seemed to have no business there. This puzzled the Frenchmán exceedingly; and, being a stranger in those parts, he called to a farmer in an adjacent field.

"Mon ami, are you acquaint vid dis part of de country-eh?"

it."

"Ah, c'est bien, dat vill do," and the Frenchman. got out of the gig, tied the horse, and produced his lithographick map.

"Den maybe you vill have de kindness to show me de sixty lot vich I have bought, vid de valuarble vatare privalege?"

The farmer glanced his eye over the paper.

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Yes, sir, with pleasure; if you will be good enough to get into my boat, I will row you out to them!" "Vat dat you say, sare?"

"My friend," said the farmer, "this section of

Long Island has recently been bought up by the speculators of New-York, and laid out for a great city; but the principal street is only visible at low tide. When this part of the East-River is filled up, it will be just there. Your lots, as you will perceive, are beyond it; and are now all under water.

perceived for

He drew a

At first the Frenchman was incredulous. He could not believe his senses. As the facts, however, gradually broke upon him, he shut one eye, squinted obliquely at the heavens-the river-the farmerand then he turned away and squinted at them all over again! There was his purchase sure enough; but then it could not be there was a river flowing over it! box from his waistcoat pocket, opened it, with an emphatick knock upon the lid, took a pinch of snuff and restored it to his waistcoat pocket as before. Poopoo was evidently in trouble, having "thoughts which often lie too deep for tears ;" and, as his grief was also too big for words, he untied his horse, jumped into his gig, and returned to the auctioneer in hot haste.

It was near night when he arrived at the auctionroom-his horse in a foam and himself in a fury. The auctioneer was leaning back in his chair, with his legs stuck out of a low window, quietly smoking a cigar after the labours of the day, and humming the musick from the last new opera.

"Monsieur, I have much plaisir to fin you, chez vous, at home."

"Ah, Poopoo! glad to see you. Take a seat, old boy."

"But I shall not take de seat, sare."

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No-why, what's the matter?"

"Oh, beaucoup de matter. I have been to see de gran lot vot you sell me to-day."

Well, sir, I hope you like your purchase?" "No, monsieur, I no like him."

"I'm sorry for it; but there is no ground for your complaint."

"No, sare; dare is no ground at all-de ground is all vatare!"

"You joke!"

lerie. Sare, voulez vous have de kindness to give me back de money vot I pay!"

"Certainly not."

"Den vill you be so good as to take de East-River off de top of my lot?"

"That's your business, sir, not mine."

"Den I make von mauvaise affaire-von gran mistake!"

"I hope not. I don't think you have thrown your money away in the land.”

"No, sare; but I tro it avay in de vatare!" "That's not my fault."

"Yes, sare, but it is your fault. You're von ver gran rascal to swindle me out of de l'argent."

"Hollo, old Poopoo, you grow personal; and if you can't keep a civil tongue in your head, you must go out of my counting-room."

"Vare shall I go to, eh?"

"To the devil, for aught I care, you foolish old Frenchman!" said the auctioneer, waxing warm.

“But, sare, I vill not go to de devil to oblige you! replied the Frenchman, waxing warmer. "You sheat me out of all de dollar vot I make in Shathamestreet; but I vill not go to de devil for all dat. I vish you may go to de devil yourself you dem yankee-doo-dell, and I vill go and drown myself, tout de suite, right avay."

"You couldn't make a better use of your water privileges, old boy!"