a moment's warning." He then briefly conveyed a similar communication to Sambo, and vainly tried to catch the eye of the gentleman abaft for the purpose of inciting him to wariness.

The breeze was to the northward, with a lee tide running, so that, though apparently working to windward between the sands and the shore, they were rapidly drifting down towards Ostend, which was then in the hands of the French. Ben comprehended the whole of this in an instant, and saw, what the others, from their want of nautical knowledge, did not observe, that the helmsman frequently edged off from the wind, so as to facilitate their approach to Ostend, which was soon upon their lee-bow, and the boat standing for the harbour.

The gentleman, wholly insensible to the danger which threatened them, sat between his wife and daughter, and was speaking words of cheering import, relative to their being rescued from the enemy, and the prospect of soon enjoying the comforts of their native land. Everything was perfectly tranquil in the vessel, which was lightly dancing over the smooth waters and breaking the sun-light upon its surface. He also remarked upon the quietude of their fellow-passengers, and even ventured a joke upon the apparently solid countenance of the Dutchwoman, when suddenly -in an instant, as if madness ruled the moment, they saw her spring to her feet, and, grasping the pump-brake in her hand, she flourished it right and left, laying a fisherman prostrate at every blow. Sambo also grap

pled an opponent, whom he lifted over the gunwale, hurled into the sea and then attacked another, whilst Frank rushed aft to the steersman, shouting to the gentleman, "We are Englishmen, it is a French port under our lee, and we are betrayed; for the sake of those you lovehurrah!-do not remain inactive."

Nothing could exceed the amazement of the gentleman at this wholly unexpected occurrence, and his astonishment was still more increased when the supposed Dutchwoman, came bounding aft, flourishing her weapon, and shouting in the nautical language of his native land, as he hurled the steersman from his place,-" Ware hause, you lubber-what's the odds, so as you're happy?" and taking the tiller, he put the vessel right before the wind. "Bear a hand, Master Frank," continued Ben, "and keep her as she goes: and I'm saying, ould gentleman, jist you show yourself smart, and let 'em know as you've a little English blood in your veins. Hurrah!—what's the odds?"-and again he rushed forward to assist Sambo, who was stoutly contesting it with his foes.

British prowess triumphed the struggle, though severe, did not last long-the Blankenbergers were conquered; the punt was cast adrift for those who were swimming-the remainder were bound hand and foot; the sails were trimmed to stand off from the land; and great indeed was the gratitude of the husband and the father, and still more delightful were the acknowledgments of the ladies, when they ascertained the great service that had been rendered to them. Mutual explanations ensued-hearty congratulations were given; and in the afternoon they fell in with an English brig which received them all on board. The fishermen, after a sound rope's-ending for their treachery, had their vessel restored; and the rescued party were the next morning gratified by entering the river Thames.

A LITTLE man who muffins sold,

When I was little too, Carried a face of giant mould,

But tall he never grew.

His arms were legs for strength and size,
His coat-tail touch'd his heels;
His brows were forests o'er his eyes,
His voice like waggon-wheels.
When fallen leaves together flock,
And gusts begin to squall,
And suns go down at six o'clock,
You heard his muffin call.
Born in the equinoctial blast,
He came and shook his bell;
And with the equinox he pass'd,
But whither none could tell.

Some thought the monster turn'd to dew,
When muffins ceased to reign,
And lay in buds the summer through
Till muffin-time again.

Or Satyr, used the woods to rove,
Or ev'n old Caliban ;

Drawn by the lure of oven-stove
To be a muffin-man.

The dwarf was not a churlish elf,
Who thought folks stared to scoff;
But used deformity itself

To set his muffins off.

He stood at doors, and talk'd with cooks,
While strangers took his span,
And grimly smiled with childhood's looks
At him, the muffin-man.

When others fled from nipping frost,

And fled from drenching skies,
And when in fogs the street was lost,

You saw his figure rise.

One night his tinkle did not sound,
He fail'd each 'custom'd door;
'Twas first of an eternal round

Of nights he walk'd no more.
When, borne in arms, my infant eye
The restless search began,
The nursery-maid was wont to cry,
"See John, the muffin-man!"

My path, with things familiar spread,
Death's foot had seldom cross'd;
And when they said that John was dead,
I stood in wonder lost.

New muffin-men from lamp to lamp,
With careless glance I scan;
For none can ever raze thy stamp,
Oh John, thou muffin-man!

Thou standest snatch'd from time and storm,
A statue of the soul;

And round thy carved and goblin form,
Past days-past days unroll.

We will not part-Affection dim
This song shall help to fan ;
And Memory, firmer bound to him,
Shall keep her Muffin-man.

A TIGER-HUNT IN ENGLAND.

"WHO has let loose my tiger?" demanded Sir Pimpleton Pettibones of his butler, whom he had summoned to the breakfast parlour by the sound of the bell in a manner that indicated great impatience. "Who has dared to let him loose? I locked him up last night for robbing the larder, and this morning he is missing; where is he?"

The butler obsequiously bowed. "Extremely sorry, Sir Pimpleton ; but really, Sir Pimpleton, I am ignorant and innocent of the whole affair.” "Somebody must have let him out," responded the irascible baronet, "and I shall be too late for the meet. Let search be instantly madesuch a tiger as that is not to be caught every day."

The butler bowed and withdrew; whilst his master, arrayed in a scarlet hunting-coat, sat down to his repast, venting imprecations upon the tiger, whom he declared it was his determination to catch before he should accomplish further mischief. This happened at a beautiful mansion in Kent, whither Sir Pimpleton had gone down for the hunting season, taking his tiger (who was a great favourite) with him. Whilst the search was still in progress, word was brought to the baronet that the "creature" had been seen early that morning in the stable-yard, and a beautiful swift-footed pony was missing, which- -as the tiger had shown great partiality to horse-flesh-it was supposed he had made away with. "Hillio-hillio !-quick-saddle every horse in the stables," shouted the baronet, "we'll scour the country-the game is up-hark forwardhark forward!-yoicks, tally ho!" and away he went with grooms and keepers down to the stalls, where he himself saddled his best hunter, and in a few minutes he was flying away across the park, with a long straggling tail like a comet after him, towards the village.

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66 Have you seen my tiger?" demanded the baronet, reining up his gallant steed in front of the Pettibones Arms, and addressing the landlord-a red, platter-faced man of some seventeen stone; have you seen him? he broke cover and stole away this morning-he must be prowling somewhere about-have you seen him?"

"Lor love yer honour, no," responded mine host, with a grin of astonishment and stupidity. "Them tigers are thirsty sowls; but he's never been here to drink."

66

Hillio, hillio!" shouted Sir Pimpleton, as his attendants came riding up, "handle your whips and follow me ;" and dismounting, he entered the hostelry, where the good dame was busy in culinary operations. "Where's my tiger?" was again the cry. "He's crouching somewhere here." "Now laws ha' mercy upon us, I hope not, yer honour!" exclaimed the old dame in dreadful alarm. "What, a real tiger, yer honour? em a live un or a stuffed un?"

Be

"Fool!" vociferated the baronet, 66 a live one to be sure, with large goggle eyes and a fang tooth. I must find his lair." The entire premises were examined, but the tiger was not there.

"To horse, to horse," commanded the baronet, to the great relief of the

old lady; "and hark ye, dame, if he should come here, shut him up directly, and let me know. Away, my men, away." Sir Pimpleton rushed forth, mounted his horse, and away he scoured like a madman, or what is next of kin to a madınan, a break-neck squire.

"Jeames, Jeames," called the hostess as soon as the cavalcade had departed, "come in, Jeames, fasten the door, and get thees blunderbusk, and load un wi' bullocks" (bullets probably), "and if so be the crittur comes this way, shoot un, Jeames-shoot un without benefit of clargy."

On rode the baronet full pelt, and tailing after him followed half-adozen attendants in scarlet coats and black velvet caps. The coverts were tried, every nook was searched, but without effect, and they soon afterwards entered another village.

"My tiger! my tiger!" exclaimed the baronet as he burst into the first cottage, which contained a female with five or six children playing and sprawling about the floor. "Have you seen the tiger? he has broke loose, and cannot be far off."

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The tiger!" repeated the woman, terribly alarmed for the safety of her infants, which she speedily gathered up and thrust into a capacious closet. "Oh dear, what shall we do!" The cottage was searched, as were also several others, to the great consternation of the villagers. Then arose the cries of mothers for "Johnnies" and "Billies" and "Kitties" and “Sukies" and "Tommies," to collect the stray lambs of the fold, or, in other words, the toddling children that were playing on the green; and in a few minutes not a soul of that population was to be seen.

A turnpike was close at hand, and thither Sir Pimpleton galloped; and after a few words with the 'pikeman, his sonorous voice was heard. "Hillio-hillio!-stole away-hark forward-hark forward !" and clapping spurs to his steed, onwards they pressed, flying over hedges and ditches to make a short cut.

Now it so happened that the hounds of a neighbouring squire were out, and as the muster at the meet was pretty strong, and Sir Pimpleton was well known for an eccentric, several members of the hunt rode up and inquired "what game they had started?”

"A tiger! a tiger!" shouted the baronet; "we're hard upon him—hark forward-yoicks-tally ho!"

A tiger-hunt in England was something new in the annals of sporting; and though they thought it strange to chase the animal without dogs, yet they were aware that Sir Pimpleton had passed many years in the East Indies, and probably accustomed to the sport, they concluded it was "all right;" and desirous of witnessing the novelty, many joined in the pursuit, amongst whom was the master of the hounds and his pack.

The cavalcade drew near a large town, and in they dashed, the baronet still shouting, out of breath, "The tiger!-the tiger! Have you seen my Ben-g-g-gal?" The words were quickly caught up; and the announcement that a fierce Bengal tiger was adrift in the town spread like wildfire. The tradesmen shut up their shops; the inhabitants fastened their doors; there was a brief running to and fro in terror, but the streets were speedily cleared; and from many an up-stairs window was protruded a blunderbuss, a fowling-piece, or a pistol, the proprietors of which were

eagerly intent upon destroying the furious animal, though some few even thus elevated scarcely considered themselves safe from his bound. The cry of the hounds, the shouting of the hunters, the rattling of horses' hoofs upon the stones, and the wailings of women, with the cheers of the men, produced a clamour such as had never before been heard in that place. Mothers clasped their children and concealed them in beaufets, or turned them up in press-bedsteads fathers armed themselves with defensive weapons, and a body of volunteers mustered in the inn yard with loaded muskets, taking good care however to keep the gates shut.

"Have you seen the tiger?" was still the cry; and Sir Pimpleton having obtained some information, "Stole away-hark forward," was again the word.

They shot up Shooter's-hill without stopping to breathe, and when on the brow, an animal, with apparently a blood-red back, was seen scouring towards Blackheath. The baronet, with the lungs of a northerly gale, uttered the "view halloo," which was caught up and repeated by the rest. The hounds gave tongue and made play. It was a beautiful burst. The whip and spur were plied. The steeds, though jaded, knew well by instinct that the "warmint" was in sight, and kept up their speed, and down the hill they swept like a mountain torrent.

But the tiger was not to be easily caught. There was no jungle or hollow to hide in, and away he scudded over the heath with great velocity, as if sensible that the enemy was behind him. Once he was missed, and it was supposed had run to earth in a sand-pit; but the next moment he was seen on the other side climbing the bank to shorten his distance, and in a few minutes he was over the brow of the hill past the Green Man, and descending at a tremendous rate. The hunters followed hard upon him, the hounds in full cry, and again rose the shout from a dozen voices— "The tiger! the tiger!" But the tiger had disappeared amongst the horses, and they had now no clue to his advance, except from the amazed spectators, who hastily cleared the road at the novel and somewhat alarming spectacle. "The tiger! the chase!" exclaimed Sir Pimpleton. Three or four hands were extended to point out the direction he had taken; and those who had not "dropped off still followed the hounds. Away they rattled through the Broadway, Deptford, amidst cries and cheers of "Go it, you'll catch him directly. Hurrah!" And they once more caught sight of the tiger on the line of road towards New Cross. Cheerily again sounded the "view halloo," the animal seemed to be sensible that his pursuers were spurring in hot haste after him—the turnpike-men enjoyed the sport and threw open their gates-hounds and horses, and men rattled through-the Bricklayers' Arms, the Elephant and Castle, Westminster-bridge, saw them rush past like a whirlwind, the tiger still in advance; nor did the chase cease till the baronet's town mansion, close to St. James's Park, was reached. A reeking pony stood at the door, which was open. Sir Pimpleton dismounted, cheering the hunters on the game was all alive; the whole threw themselves from their horses, and hounds and men following, the baronet bounced into the drawing-room, where Lady Pettibones was receiving morning visits from dashing young spinsters and elderly dowagers.