stealer of his sweetmeat, and a rigid search was made. Cartouche, as
usual, was fixed upon; and in the tick of his bed, lo! there were found
a couple of empty honey-pots! From this scrape there is no knowing
how he would have escaped, had not the president himself been a little
anxious to hush the matter up; and accordingly, young Cartouche was made
to disgorge the residue of his ill-gotten gold pieces, old
Cartouche made up the deficiency, and his son was allowed to remain
unpunished--until the next time.

This, you may fancy, was not very long in coming; and though history
has not made us acquainted with the exact crime which Louis Dominic next
committed, it must have been a serious one; for Cartouche, who had
borne philosophically all the whippings and punishments which were
administered to him at college, did not dare to face that one which
his indignant father had in pickle for him. As he was coming home from
school, on the first day after his crime, when he received permission to
go abroad, one of his brothers, who was on the look-out for him, met
him at a short distance from home, and told him what was in preparation;
which so frightened this young thief, that he declined returning home
altogether, and set out upon the wide world to shift for himself as he
could.

Undoubted as his genius was, he had not arrived at the full exercise of
it, and his gains were by no means equal to his appetite. In whatever
professions he tried,--whether he joined the gipsies, which he
did,--whether he picked pockets on the Pont Neuf, which occupation
history attributes to him,--poor Cartouche was always hungry. Hungry
and ragged, he wandered from one place and profession to another, and
regretted the honey-pots at Clermont, and the comfortable soup and
bouilli at home.

Cartouche had an uncle, a kind man, who was a merchant, and had dealings
at Rouen. One day, walking on the quays of that city, this gentleman saw
a very miserable, dirty, starving lad, who had just made a pounce upon
some bones and turnip-peelings, that had been flung out on the quay, and
was eating them as greedily as if they had been turkeys and truffles.
The worthy man examined the lad a little closer. O heavens! it was their
runaway prodigal--it was little Louis Dominic! The merchant was touched
by his case; and forgetting the nightcaps, the honey-pots, and the rags
and dirt of little Louis, took him to his arms, and kissed and hugged
him with the tenderest