ehind my bar--Perhaps you will have occasion to make your
dinner with us, too, sir?"

"I cannot say I shall not," returned the stranger, paying for the dram he
had barely tasted; "it greatly depends on the result of my inquiries
concerning the different vessels in the port."

"Then would I, though perfectly disinterested, as you know, sir,
recommend you to make this house your home, while you sojourn in the town.
It is the resort of most of the sea-faring men; and I may say this much of
myself, without conceit--No man can tell you more of what you want to
know, than the landlord of the 'Foul Anchor.'"

"You advise an application to the Commander of this vessel, in the stream,
for a birth: Will she sail so soon as you have named?"

"With the first wind. I know the whole history of the ship, from the day
they laid the blocks for her keel to the minute when she let her anchor go
where you now see her. The great Southern Heiress, General Grayson's fine
daughter, is to be a passenger she, and her overlooker, Government-lady, I
believe they call her--a Mrs Wyllys--are waiting for the signal, up here,
at the residence of Madam de Lacey; she that is the relict of the
Rear-Admiral of that name, who is full-sister to the General; and,
therefore, an aunt to the young lady, according to my reckoning. Many
people think the two fortunes will go together; in which case, he will be
not only a lucky man, but a rich one, who gets Miss Getty Gray son for a
wife."

The stranger, who had maintained rather an indifferent manner during the
close of the foregoing dialogue appeared now disposed to enter into it,
with a degree of interest suited to the sex and condition of the present
subject of their discourse. After waiting to catch the last syllable that
the publican chose to expend his breath on, he demanded, a little
abruptly,--

"And you say the house near us, on the rising ground, is the residence of
Mrs de Lacey?"

"If I did, I know nothing of the matter. By 'up here,' I mean half a mile
off. It is a place fit for a lady of her quality, and none of your elbowy
dwellings like these crowded about us. One may easily tell the house, by
its pretty blinds and its shades. I'll engage there are no such shades, in
all Europe, as them very trees that stand before the door of Madam de
Lacey."

"It is very probable," muttered the stranger, who, not appearing quite as
sensitive in his provincial admiration as the publican, had already
relap