nor-off. [Renewed laughter.] I can't go barelegged, like a hovergrown Scotch wench, into the town. [Another tremendous tug at the offending leathers.]—Where's Turkey? I'm uncorked-quite beskumbered! Where is that man? I'm in a dreadful sweat, and my feet swell up like a man wot's hung at Newgate they're actilly throttled with this wet leather. [Laughter; the delighted crowd still crying out, As him was once more.'] You black, unearthly scaramouches!"-"You John Bull!"- -"Bull, am I? Wait till I've got 'em off, one way or t'other; I'm blowed if I don't gore you! I'll soon touch some of yer up in the bunt!"

Thus did the unhappy man rave and scold, tug and moralise, by turns, till Turkey, unable to see the poor fellow in such a trim any longer, rushed to the rescue, and with his penknife opened the seams of his tight boot, so as to enable Moss to get a fair start—which he instantly did, tucking the unlucky boots under his arm: and in this manner (Moss deploring his unlucky mishap, and Turkey soliloquising on his Venus de' Medici) did the two gentlemen enter Cape Town.

Mr. Turkey found that the ludicrous picture of his friend drew down the gibes of every wag as they proceeded; and a goodly number who had witnessed the whole of the exhibition still followed at a short distance, unwilling, as it appeared, to lose any part of the fun,-for assuredly it had diminished not one iota in interest from the moment the unlucky wight had miscalculated his footing. To behold a short, thick-set man, with a large fat face unusually red with heat and excitement—to witness him, in a dashing blue coat, yellow vest, and white tights, carrying a huge walking-stick in one hand and his broadbrimmed hat in the other, whilst an enormous pair of top-boots were tenaciously held, wet as they were, under his arm, as in a vice—and, above all, to hear his maledictions upon the country, and all it contained, as each step he took among the hot sand scorched his unprotected feet, was, even to Turkey himself, who sincerely pitied him, a most side-shaking spectacle.

"I tell you what it is," cried Moss, "I can tramp no further! Here's a pretty pickle I'm in! Oh, if my poor old master Abraham Barlow could but clap his eye on me now! And am I to walk up to my knees in sand? I'm blistered now up to my very calfs! Is there

no possible means of

Stop, Turkey; I've trod on a bottle!

and, oh Lord! I must sit down a minute on this old hanchor!"

The miserable Moss threw himself down to examine his stockings; but as no blood appeared, Turkey assured him 'twas all imagination, and urged him to try to travel a bit further, where he could distinguish the sign of a "public." Moss, hearing this welcome intelligence, endeavoured to rise, when

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Turkey!" roared he; "what—why, what the devil ails me now? I can't stir a peg! Odds bobs! if I ain't a sat down on a dab of pitch! and" (sagely applying his hand to the hinder part of his tights) -"and, blow me, if I ain't regularly burked! Look here, Toby!" (turning himself round, and exhibiting a most unfortunate surface of that adhesive material.)

At this unforeseen calamity, Moss renewed his lamentations, and Turkey gave full vent to the hilarity he could no longer restrain. Moss hobbled along after the convulsed Toby, and was enabled shortly to get a seat in a bullock-waggon-in which vehicle, drawn by a team of fourteen oxen, and surrounded by as many laughing rogues of boys who had been noisy witnesses of his distresses, did Mr. Moss arrive at the inn where his companion had already taken up his quarters.

CHAPTER XIX.

"And thus I am absorb'd-and this is life."- CHILDE HAROLD.

"It's a very pretty place, this same Cape Town," said Mr. Rennie to Mr. Blair, as those two gentlemen were promenading the streets the evening of the day after their arrival. "But I must say, the mosquitoes in the night, blowing their abominable trumpets, and digging their wonderfully poisonous little trunks into all parts of one's body, is anything but a recommendation to it."

"Had your bed not any mosquito-curtains?" inquired Mr. Blair. "No. What are they?"

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They are simply a thin kind of gauze, drawn so tight round the bedposts as to effectually keep the vexatious intruders away.' You must speak about some. But if you are already bitten, I would recommend," continued Mr. B., "a solution of opium,-it allays the irritation; and, perhaps, a cooling quart of salts might assist the operation."

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"Ha! ha!" laughingly replied Mr. Rennie. "The opiate I am willing to try; but as for the salts-no, friend, no!"

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Look, Rennie, what fine streets! The houses are all, you see, in the square, neat, Dutch style,-roomy, of course, for the climate. I cannot, however, admire the colouring of most of the houses in hot countries of a glaring white. It certainly may be said to reflect the

heat; but it is painful to the eye."

"And yet," interrupted his companion, "how pretty they look! Now, just turn your eye up this comfortable and clean-looking street, with its rows of three and four-storied square houses, with their little platform-looking buildings in the front of them, and all shaded by the

beautiful waving acacia.

And, above all, look at Mynheer von Dunk himself, sitting there in the shade, smoking his canaster, and, beyond all doubt, quaffing his Schiedam. What a picture of Oriental indolence !"

"No doubt," said Blair, "that is what may be at once reckoned an illustration of the Eastern saying, 'I will sit upon the carpet of resignation, and smoke the pipe of patience.' And if that greasylooking worthy does not personify both resignation and patience in his very look, I am at a loss to conceive what does. How mechanically the automaton opens and shuts his heavy-lidded eyes, as though even the labour of winking were too much for him! But, bless me, my friend, look what a lovely creature hands him his glass!"

a

"So she is a very sylph! And 'To what vile uses may we not return!' to think of her occupation being the handing of Dutch gin to I won't call ugly names. Let's be gone. And, with your leave, we will adjourn to some hotel or other, where we may refresh ourselves with a bottle of what in Britain we call Cape nastiness.' Let us try the prophet in his own country."

"With all my heart, friend; let us crack a bottle, and judge for ourselves. Yonder's the 'London Hotel,'-let's patronise it."

"Just turn your eye, Rennie, upon these enormous oak trees growing before the door," said Mr. Blair, as they were in the act of entering the hotel; “and, above all, look what an amazing size the acorns are! at the very least, double the size of English ones.'

66 'They are indeed, Blair," said Mr. Rennie, "beautiful trees, and very fine acorns. Come, let's be doing."

The bell being rung, and the waiter making his appearance, a bottle of the best Cape growth was ordered-to be a white wine. It was speedily produced, and pronounced by the gentlemen to be excellent— little inferior to the best Madeira.

"But how is it," said they, one to the other, "that the stuff we get in England is of such a vile and decidedly earthy and unpleasant flavour?"

That, as a puzzle, served to amuse, till Blair observed, that "possibly it might be Madeira palmed upon them as Cape, to flatter the winegrowing properties of the Colony. But," continued he, "we shall find

out the secret at Burchell's this evening. I expect he will produce a sample of his very best."

"No doubt he will," added Mr. Rennie; "he is a very liberal man, and should keep some of the best in the place. He has resided here long enough to know how to obtain it."

"What a strangely old-fashioned room this is! Look at the oak wainscoting, how it is rubbed and polished! and even the floor is of the same material, and equally burnished."

"I'll just carry a thought into execution, Blair," said Rennie, rising and pulling the bell. "Oh, waiter, bring in a few grapes."

"Yes, sir."

"Well done, my friend. Here they are. Well, to be sure, these are fine fellows! Why, this bunch must weigh, at the least, four pounds; and every individual grape the size of a pigeon's egg! Surely these grow upon a land overflowing with milk and honey, oil and wine!"

"Why, indeed, Blair, one would think so; but they do not quite come up to the bunch that the two men who discovered the promised land carried between them on a pole!"

"No; but, Rennie, we will substitute this bottle of wine for the pole the two worthies used with their grapes, and I doubt not, by its assistance, we shall be able to carry off a bunch ourselves! Now for a treat! Transparent! you can see every seed! What a glorious thing in a hot clime is the grape!"

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"No sooner, we hear," said Rennie, was Noah out of his ark, than he planted a vineyard."

"That shows your ancient learning," quoth Blair, "and Noah's sharpness; but he was certainly too much of the bacchanal, nevertheless-he indulged, it is to be feared, too deeply in his potations."

"Ah, poor old gentleman! he was doubtless so glad to get over his voyage, like us," said Rennie," that he desired a little of the divine juice in rather larger doses than ordinary. Let us be merciful!"

"Ay, true; charity covers many sins. It is to be regretted there is so little of that estimable commodity in the market. There seems an unaccountable malignant disposition in some persons, raking up

R