and up the
village-street, to the happy and hospitable home, where brilliant lights
and a sparkling tea-service waited to welcome the weary, but
well-pleased _voyageurs_.

FOOTNOTES:

[25] "Cullet" is the waste of the glass-room. The superfluous material
taken up on the pontil, and the shards of articles broken in process of
manufacture. The ingenious reader will thus interpret the heading of
this paper.

[26] It is proper to state that Miselle subsequently visited the
New-England Glass Company's Works in East Cambridge, Massachusetts, and,
finding the method of manufacture nearly identical with that at
Sandwich, has, for convenience' sake, incorporated her observations
there with this account of her visit to the latter place.

WHAT WILL BECOME OF THEM?

A STORY IN TWO PARTS.

PART II.

Gentleman Bill, full of confidence in his powers of persuasion,
advances, to add the weight of his respectability to his parent's
remonstrance.

"Good morning, Mr. Frisbie,"--politely lifting his hat.

"Hey?" says Frisbie, sarcastic.--"Look at his insolence, Stephen!"

"I sincerely trust, Sir," begins Bill, "that you will reconsider your
determination, Sir"----

"Shall I fetch him a cut with the hosswhip?" whispers Stephen, loud
enough for the stalwart young black to hear.

"You can fetch him a cut with the hosswhip, if you like," Bill answers
for Mr. Frisbie, with fire blazing upon his polite face. "But, Sir, in
case you do, Sir, I shall take it upon myself to teach you better
manners than to insult a gentleman conferring with your master, Sir!"

"Ha, ha, ha!" roared Mr. Frisbie. "You've got it, Stephen!"

The whip trembled in Stephen's angry hand, but the strapping young negro
looked so cool and wicked, standing there, that he wisely forbore to
strike.

"I am sure, Sir," Bill addresses the landlord, "you are too humane a
person"----

"No, I a'n't," says the florid Frisbie. "I know what you're going to
say; but it's no use. You can't work upon my feelings; I a'n't one of
your soft kind.--Drive up to the door, Stephen."

Stephen is very glad to start the horse suddenly and graze Gentleman
Bill's knee with the wheel-hub. Bill steps back a pace, and follows him
with the smiting look of one who treasures up wrath. You'd better be
careful, Stephen, let me tell you!

Joe stands holding the door open, and Mr. Frisbie looks in. There, to
his astonishment, he sees the women washing clothes as unconcernedly as
if