"MY LAST DOLLAR!" murmured Alleyne, with a ghastly smile.

"Your LAST dollar!" cried the astonished tar. "Oh, he's crazy, poor lad!"

"No, man, I SWEAR to you it is my LAST DOLLAR !"

"Well, well, never mind if it be. Sam's got a confounded lot, and if he don't lend me some now, (which I know he will) 'rat me, if I don't give him the biggest hiding he ever got in his life. But Sam's no churl.-He'll do anything for me; I know he will. Come, my hearty, cheer up,- Sam will be here presently with the doctor."

"The doctor!

me get up."

66

no-no-no! I am well, let

Keep still, squire; I am your nurse now, and must be obeyed. Easy, man, easy."

But the effort Alleyne had made, in attempting to rise, was too much for his weak frame. He sunk back, fainting.

Jack thought he was dying, and, in great dismay, roared out for assistance. A glass containing some water was at hand,-he applied it to the patient's lips, but the latter put it aside.

"Let me die, friend,-let me die!" he said, beseechingly.

"No, I'll be d-d if I do!" cried the sailor, stoutly. "That is if I can help it. And thank

the stars here comes Sam, with the doctor.Don't look so uneasy Squire. If you don't want him to know your name, I shan't blab. I'll say you are a mess-mate of mine, d'ye see? There, that's a man!-Now, you look more comfortable like."

CHAPTER VIII.

WE will return, if you please, to the party we left a short time since, in Mrs. Enfield's parlour.

Somerville had informed the ladies, that he had inserted advertisements in the newspapers, and caused hand-bills to be distributed, describing Alleyne's person, and offering a reward for any information respecting him. These had been issued upwards of two days; but, as yet, he had received no tidings of his unfortunate friend!

"I am almost out of hope," said he, despondingly; "for in BOSTON, particularly, every child takes notice of a stranger; and if poor Charles had been seen at any time, after Thursday morning (for I have traced him so far, as to have ascertained that he passed over Warren Bridge, in his way to Boston, a little after five o'clock on that morning,) I might have some reason to suppose that my terrible suspicions were ill-founded. But

there is one reflection," added he, more cheerfully, "that still buoys me up, in spite of all my disappointments, and the mystery in which my friend's fate is enveloped, I cannot bring myself to think, that Charles Alleyne would so far abandon the principles he has always professed, as to seek a refuge from any misfortunes in a self-inflicted death."

At this moment, William Lauder entered the room. I should have mentioned, that Mrs. Enfield had despatched a messenger a short time before to his office, requesting to see him immediately, upon business of importance. His presence, now, was occasioned by that message. Sophia knew that he had taken great, as she once thought unnecessary pains, to make himself acquainted with the particulars of Alleyne's present situation. She therefore, (although, perhaps, not the least agitated of the party,) had suggested the idea of sending for him, in the hope, that the result of his inquiries might throw some light upon the mystery involving the fate of our unlucky

hero.

But alas! herein she was doomed to be disappointed. Lauder had contented himself, it appeared, with ascertaining that a gentleman, answering to Alleyne's description, had actually slept one or two nights at the Hotel and that as he had not been seen there for a day or two,

the people of the house presumed he had left Boston.

Do not let it be supposed I mean to insinuate that William Lauder was actuated by ungenerous or unworthy motives in the course he had felt himself obliged to take with respect to our hero. I believe Lauder to be a worthy, kind-hearted, honorable man. He would go as far as anybody in behalf of a friend, if he believed that friend worthy.

But, I must say, he does not show sufficient charity towards the failings of his fellow-creatures. We all know the man. For you or for me, (knowing us, as he has done for years,) he would willingly risk purse and person; and, on the instant. But supposing that either of us were to be convictedI will not say of a crime-but of some petty vice, (and we are all viciously disposed, now and then; we cannot help it ;-it's no use talking, I say, we can't help it) William Lauder is just the man, who would turn his back on us, and, to use his own expression, "Let us go to the devil, our own way." If the thing were done sub rosa, he would, probably give two or three clucks with his tongue, and emplore of us seriously, to amend our way of living. Yet still, we should lose his confidence. He would say to himself, "If this thing should become known, I shall (perhaps,) lose caste, by associating with these people." He stands horribly in dread not of public opinion but of the

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