wanting courage to address him she came to visit. "Lifting up her voice" at last, she spoke.

She said nothing of the many many times she had stood beneath the mimosa trees looking for him at the little drift in the green valley; but in few words she offers to "forsake all and follow him."

"Restore my father's lands," said Amakeya, "and I will be the pledge of his good faith. Thy people shall be my people, and I will sit by thy side, and beneath thy dwelling-place, and abide with thee all my life. Let my father go, and I will serve thee truly."

The girls of Kaffirland are early taught the strictest lessons of female propriety, and the sacrifice offered by Amakeya was greater than persons unacquainted with her ideas of right, would readily suppose. What passed further between herself and her astonished auditor was honorable to both, but particularly so to Colonel Glencairn. He did not misconstrue the motives of the poor Kaffir girl, he took no advantage of the position in which she had, not without due consideration, placed herself; so, gently, and with his usual honesty of purpose, he persuaded her to return to her father, as it was neither in Colonel Glencairn's power to give him back his " country" nor recommend his cause to the governor. Had the latter alternative been in his hands, his conscience would have been at issue with his will.

What passed in Amakeya's heart as she sat mute, silent, dejected, with her luminous eyes lifted up anxiously to Colonel Glencairn's face, the index of his candid heart, cannot well be imagined, and Colonel Glencairn in relating the incidents of the above story, forbore to dwell on the sentiments which brought the beauty of Kaffirland to his feet.

Macomo was condemned to be banished from the neighbourhood of the Amatola Mountains to Port Elizabeth, on the sea coast. He had merely forfeited his place in the green valley, but she-poor Amakeya ! We may fancy her pausing on her journey, sitting down and gazing sorrowfully, and in some fear at that great sea from which those terrible red men came-terrible, but for thoughts of Glencairn. What knew she about the rights of nations? What could that child of nature think or understand of colonial boundaries, or political questions? From her infancy she had been taught to admire the boldest cattle stealer, and to scorn the young men who came back to the kraal empty-handed, or, who by their want of address, had betrayed themselves or others to the patrols of the roed batjes, for, in Kaffirland, to steal is creditable, but to be discovered, disgraceful. From the horrible deeds of witchcraft and torture she had always turned with loathing and dread. Terror was mingled with her disgust of the wizard Umyeki, the leaden hand of a deadly superstition chained down her better reason, and all the instruction which circumstances occasionally afforded her from the missionary in the neighbourhood, had no effect in releasing her from the influences of an evil deeply rooted by custom, and, grievous to say, permitted in the very vicinity of a British garrison!

Sir Harry Smith has changed all this, uprooted it-and determined on reaping good fruit, will sow good seed and keep it free from evil influences and prejudiced experimentalists.

Ah, that mighty sea! and those waggons with white wings floating on the strange element. She had heard among the T'Slambie tribes beyond the Great Fish River, that when one of those sea waggons should make its

way into the mouth of the Buffalo river, Kaffirland should die; she had believed it then, how fully she believes it now! To her Kaffirland is dead already her eyes are on the wide waters, but her thoughts are wandering in the valley and through the mimosa bushes of bright green, gazing down upon the little drift.

It was some months after the occurrence of the events which I have attempted to describe, that Sir Harry Smith, at a great assemblage of the congregated Kaffirs, proposed recalling Macomo. Not to re-instate him in his old location, but to place him with his tribe under the immediate surveillance of Colonel Somerset, commanding on the frontier of Southern Africa. Amakeya heard the intelligence with that air of real or assumed indifference for which her nation is remarkable.. It was enough that she was not to return to the pleasant pasture grounds in the valley below the "Fairy's Rest."

A vessel lay at anchor at Algoa Bay, the harbour of Port Elizabeth. It was to bear Colonel Glencairn away, across that flood of sun-lighted waters to the far-off country which Amakeya had heard-almost unbelievingly-was so small, so crowded, and yet so powerful and so good. Bewildered and sorrowful she drew the folds of her heavy mantle* round her and retired from the sight of the ships, the unquiet, irregular, and busy town and its uncaring people-Glencairn was lost to her, and Kaffirland was dead!

THE TWO COATS.

BY CHARLES HERVEY, ESQ.

"Le paletot qui vole,

Qui va, qui vient, qui vole."

"A HUNDRED franes. coat."

LA CHAMBRE À DEUX LITS (slightly altered).

C'est trop. I'll give you seventy for the

"Impossible! a paletot cut out by Dusautoy, made for a Russian nobleman suddenly ordered off to St. Petersburg, and never worn! If Monsieur will only examine the material, the very finest Sedan cloth, with cuffs and collar of real sable! Then the colour, neither chocolate nor marron, but something between the two, quite original, quite a paletot de fantasie! Voyons, for ready money we will say ninety francs, not one centime less."

While the customer is making up his mind whether he shall invest ninety francs in the purchase of the coat, or keep the said ninety francs in his own pocket, we may as well say a few words respecting the locale where the above-reported conversation is going on; as we shall thereby not only render what is coming more intelligible to our readers, but also put them up to a "wrinkle" in Parisian life.

The dépôt in question is situated on the right hand side of the Place de la Bourse, looking from the Vaudeville theatre, and a little more than

The cloak worn by the Kaffir women combines utility with grace. Like the boddice it is made from the skin of an ox carefully dressed till it becomes quite soft. Between the shoulders is placed a strap studded with small brass buttons, and this depends from the collar to the edge of the cloak which is of ample dimen sions.

half-way between the Rue Vivienne and the Rue Notre Dame des Victoires. It is au premier, and bears no external sign beyond the following request printed in black letters on the door,

TOURNEZ LE BOUFON, S. V. P.

This ceremony effected, the visitor finds himself in a small passage conducting to a spacious room, lined round with shelves from top to bottom, the said shelves groaning (in their own peculiarly inaudible fashion) beneath the weight of frock-coats, dress-coats, great-coats, cloaks, pardessus, paletots, huge white-caped and white-buttoned garments labelled "coachman," and every imaginable variety of tweed, twine, blouse, jacket and dressing-gown. Beside these are piles of waistcoats and trousers of every hue, shape, and texture, the more fashionable suits being especially put en évidence, and garnishing divers pegs and hooks scattered here and there about the room.

The proprietor of this warehouse is himself no tailor, nor is any tailoring work done on the premises, which are indirectly supplied from the leading establishments in Paris after the following fashion. It is a common practice with certain French lions, who, though not overburthened with cash, have, nevertheless, credit with some first-rate schneider, to order of the latter a suit of clothes, for which say 300 francs are charged. This suit is immediately sold to the marchand of the Place de la Bourse (or one of his confrères) for about half its value, and the proceeds are considered by the lion as money raised in a perfectly justifiable and legitimate manner. Thus an extensive wardrobe from the ateliers of Humann, Blin, Dusautoy, and, in fact, all the leading maîtres tailleurs in Paris, is constantly on view, and as constantly in request; the patrons of these ready-made warehouses, where excellent articles are sold at a very reasonable rate, being extremely numerous.

But to return to our customer, who has by this time put on and paid for the much vaunted paletot.

"You can positively assure me," says he, "that this coat has never been worn."

"Très positivement," is of course the reply; and the pratique, being at length satisfied, abdicates in favour of somebody else.

*

*

Before proceeding further with our sketch, it may be as well to introduce to our readers in a rather more respectful and delicate manner than we have hitherto had an opportunity of doing, the contented owner of the half marron, half chocolate, paletor, M. Athanase Trumeau. He was, and had been for some years, a well-paid employé in a respectable commercial house; his salary enabling him not only to occupy a very snug little apartment au quatrième in the Rue du Paradis Poissonnière, but also to furnish the four pièces which composed the said apartment in a very natty manner. For nattiness was M. Trumeau's especial hobby; the parquet of his miniature salon was so exquisitely ciré, that it was as difficult to walk on as a sheet of ice; his books, though few in number, were neatly and uniformly bound; his papers were arranged with the most methodical exactness, nor was a speck of dust or dimness ever visible on the framed engravings which decorated his walls.

His personal appearance was equally soigné; though a determined bachelor, he was no woman-hater, and was far from having any objection to conter fleurette to any pretty girl he might fall in with. Rightly

imagining a recherchée toilette to be an infallible passport to the good graces of the fair sex in general, he was wont, after business hours, and much to the amusement of his fellow employés, to parade up and down the Boulevards, with the proud consciousness of being well-drest, expressly and exclusively—pour faire des conquêtes. It was, indeed, with this object in view, that he allowed himself to be tempted into a purchase of the paletot, silencing his economical scruples with the reflection that he was now the legitimate possessor of a garment which had been actually ordered by and made for a Russian boyard.

Athanase's first idea on emerging into the Place de la Bourse, was naturally to display his new acquisition to the greatest possible advantage; he therefore walked leisurely down the Rue Neuve Vivienne, and, proceeding from thence along the Boulevard Montmartre, entered the Café des Variétés, where he seated himself at a table in a conspicuous part of the room, and called for a demi tasse. He had not been there many minutes before he discovered, to his inconceivable delight, that the sensation caused by his paletot very far exceeded any thing he could possibly have expected; a party of three, especially, at an adjoining table, who were simultaneously discussing some absinthe and the Constitutionnel, honoured both himself and his garment with a steady, concentrated stare, only taking their eyes from them, indeed, to cast an occasional rapid glance at the newspaper.

"Cela m'intrigue," muttered Trumeau, "mais c'est égal, c'est très flatteur. Garçon!" added he, in a more audible tone, at the same time knocking his spoon against his coffee-cup to bespeak attention.

"M'sieur."

"Un petit verre et le Corsaire."

"Jean!" immediately exclaimed one of the trio of starers, who appeared, if one might judge from the waiter's alacrity to obey his summons, to be an habitué de la maison; "where is the propriétaire ?"

"In his room, monsieur."

"Has he seen to-day's Constitutionnel?”

"I can't say, monsieur."

"Then take it to him, and beg him to read that paragraph. And, hark'ye," here ensued a brief colloquy in whispers, at the expiration of which the garçon, looking first at Athanase and then at the Constitutionnel, departed with the latter in search of his master.

Presently he re-appeared empty-handed.

Meanwhile Athanase, growing impatient, again brought the spoon in contact with the coffee-cup, rather more violently than before. "V'là, m'sieur."

"I asked for a petit verre and the Corsaire."

66

Faut-il que je le lui donne ?" asked Jean of the propriétaire who, newspaper in hand, was in the act of pointing out a particular paragraph to the dame du comptoir.

"Donne toujours," was the reply. "But first take away the silver

spoon."

"P'tit verre demandé," said the garçon, a minute after, placing a small circular tray containing a diminutive decanter full of eau de vie, and a liqueur glass, before Athanase.

"And the Corsaire ?"

"En lecture, m'sieur," replied Jean, removing the spoon and coffee-cup with great precipitation.

This abruptness would doubtless have surprised Trumeau, had he not been occupied in casting anti-Platonic glances on a lady seated together with her husband at a table near him.

"C'est lui!" said the dame du comptoir to the owner of the café, when the latter had finished the mysterious paragraph. "The description is exact. There can't be two coats of that colour, with all the fur, too. Have you sent to the commissaire?"

"I have."

"Dis-donc, Ernest,” said the habitué to one of his companions. "Our friend in the paletot seems to take more interest in the lady yonder than in the spoons."

on.

"Sois tranquille, Jean will soon put her au courant to what is going See, he is speaking to the gentleman with her now.'

*

"Are you quite sure, garçon?

?"

樂

"Il n'y a pas à s'y tromper, monsieur. The full details are here," said Jean, proffering the Constitutionnel, which had by this time passed through the hands of almost every one in the café.

"How those fellows do stare!" murmured Athanase complacently; "one would think they had never seen a well-dressed man before. What a pity I can't catch that woman's eye; afraid of her husband, no doubt. Nothing to be done in that quarter, evidently. Garçon !" "M'sieur."

"What have I to pay ?"

Cinq et dix font quinze. Quinze sous, m'sieur."

"Change this," said Athanase, throwing on the table a five-franc piece, which Jean instantly conveyed to the comptoir, winking, as he did so, at the habitué and his two companions.

"Elle est bonne, apparemment," said the proprietor, after attentively scrutinising and sounding the coin. "That's very strange. However, he must be up to something. Jean, give him the change, while I speak to M. le Commissaire, who is in my room."

A few minutes after, Athanase was once more on the boulevard, totally unconscious that he was followed at a respectful distance by a man in plain clothes, by whom not one of his movements was lost sight of.

Emerging from the café, our hero shaped his course towards the Boulevard des Italiens, and, crossing the Rue Neuve Vivienne, paused en vrai flâneur to inspect the glittering and tempting stock of brooches, rings, and other ornaments in the window of the jeweller's shop at the corner. Suddenly it struck him that a coral pin, coquettishly imbedded in the folds of his neckcloth, would be a material improvement to his toilette; and after a short struggle between le désir de briller and prudence, he entered the shop.

There he found one other customer, enveloped in a capacious cloak, and deeply intent on examining some rings apparently of great value; but who, while the jeweller was engaged in withdrawing from the win