hew, and
I will shoot him as dead as Dujarrier."

When Lor Yardham came to the "Constantanople" that night, Jools i'd
him savidgely from edd to foot, while Lord Yardham replied the same.
It wasn't much for either to do--neyther being more than 4 foot ten
hi--Jools was a grannydear in his company of the Nashnal Gard, and was
as brayv as a lion.

"Ah, l'Angleterre, l'Angleterre, tu nous dois une revanche," said Jools,
crossing his arms and grinding his teeth at Lord Yardham.

"Wee," said Lord Yardham; "wee."

"Delenda est Carthago!" howled out Jools.

"Oh, wee," said the Erl of Yardham, and at the same moment his glas of
ginawater coming in, he took a drink, saying, "A voternsanty, Munseer:"
and then he offered it like a man of fashn to Jools.

A light broak on Jools's mind as he igsepted the refreshmint.
"Sapoase," he said, "instedd of slaughtering this nephew of the infamous
Palmerston, I extract his secrets from him; suppose I pump him--suppose
I unveil his schemes and send them to my paper? La France may hear
the name of Jools de Chacabac, and the star of honor may glitter on my
bosom."

So axepting Lord Yardham's cortasy, he returned it by ordering another
glass of gin at his own expence, and they both drank it on the counter,
where Jools talked of the affaers of Europ all night. To everything he
said, the Earl of Yardham answered, "Wee, wee;" except at the end of the
evening, when he squeeged his & and said, "Bong swore."

"There's nothing like goin amongst 'em to equire the reel
pronounciation," his lordship said, as he let himself into his lodgings
with his latch-key. "That was a very eloquent young gent at the
'Constantinople,' and I'll patronize him."

"Ah, perfide, je te demasquerai!" Jools remarked to himself as he went
to bed in his "Hotel de l'Ail." And they met the next night, and from
that heavning the young men were continyually together.

Well, one day, as they were walking in the Quadrant, Jools talking,
and Lord Yardham saying, "Wee, wee," they were struck all of a heap by
seeing--

But my paper is igshosted, and I must dixcribe what they sor in the nex
number.

III.

THE CASTLE OF THE ISLAND OF FOGO.

The travler who pesews his dalitefle coarse through the fair rellum of
Franse (as a great romantic landskippist and neamsack of mind would say)
never chaumed his i's within a site more lovely, or vu'd a pallis more
magniffiznt than that which was the buthplace of the Eroing of this