Upon enquiry it was ascertained that the two individuals seeking lodgings for the night could be acommodated, and they were shown to the room appointed for their quarters. Information was given that the tea hour was six o'clock. Hill departed to look up old acquaintances by himself, while his friend, whom Miss Spinks had furnished with some thread, a needle, and a pair of scissors, was engaged in mending the rip on his coat. Miss Spinks had been the "fashionable dress maker" of the place for five-and-twenty years, and was fond of Byron, Bohea and blushes. She did not consider herself old, but time had made such marks upon her brow as are not usually seen upon the skin of maidens under twenty. She, according to a tradition which was circulated in Mrs. Mandrill's house, was constantly dreading aloud, "The day when she should be forty years of age," while pert misses often said she would never see that day again. Hill exchanged a word or two with Spinks in relation to who the gentleman was that wanted the needle and thread. His replies were not noticed at the time, but, as it proved, he was laying the foundation for a practical joke at the expense of his travelling companion, who had forgotten his promise of retaliation for the Quincy silence. There was in the door of the room in which Mr. was mending his coat, an oval opening, for what purpose it did not appear. Hearing considerable bustle and whispering at the door, Mr. left off work, and getting up to the hole, discovered the landlady, Miss Spinks, and the Indian doctor busily engaged in fastening the door on the outside, by putting a piece of wood through the handle of the latch. "What had Hill been telling these people?" thought his friend. He put on his coat and attempted to open the door. A loud "hu-sh" was heard, and they all vanished; no entreaty could induce them to open it. After an hour, or more, Hill returned and entered; a roguish leer, with serious efforts for the mastery, overspread his countenance. The bell for tea rang. Hill, in reply to the questions asked by his friend for the reason of locking him in the room, said, "Wait until after tea, and I will explain. Miss Spinks is not exactly straight in her ideas; she has made a mistake, but it is all capable of explanation. Hill and his friend walked into the dining-room; a formal introduction to the family was speedily disposed of, and all took their seats at the table. Every eye was upon the Boston gentleman, but it was not Mr. Hill who was the greater object of attention. Mr. laid his hand upon a knife. "Hem," said Miss Spinks, "he's got a knife." Hill removed the knife, then the fork. His friend rose up to follow them, when he was seized by the doctor and Mr. Mandrill, and forcibly carried back to the chamber. Without entering further into details, as to the finish of this joke, the reader will understand what was going on when he is acquainted with the dialogue between Mr. Hill and the respectable dress-making spinster, Miss Spinks, after she had furnished the needle, thread, and etceteras. MISS SPINKS. "Dew tell us, Mr. Hill, what does your friend want with needle and thread ?” HILL. "I don't know ma'am. Did he ask you for it?" MISS SPINKS. "He did, really. He don't look right. What is his business?" HILL. "He was a tailor, now he is a poet. His father's rich, very rich, and when John, my friend, tears his coat, he will mend it himself; but, if you promise not to tell any one, I'll tell you a secret about him. Love has "Will you promise not to tell one soul in the house until I come back? SPINKS. "Of course, I will not." HILL. "He was engaged to a beautiful young lady-handsomest woman in Philadelphia—a quakeress. Her parents refused consent. One day he walked into the meeting-house, and took her by force from her parents. This act broke up the meeting. All the men ran after him, caught him, brought back the lady, and, in less than a month, her father married her to an old man, and my friend went crazy; had his head shaved, wears a wig, and whenever he wants a needle and thread I know the fit is coming on." SPINKS. "And he is really crazy-insane?” HILL. "Yes, but harmless; rather fond of the society of the ladies at that time-that's all. Now, I am going out ; if anything happens, first fasten the door till I returnthat's all, and keep it secret." Of course, as soon as Hill had left, she shared the secret with Mrs. Mandrill, then the help--cautioning them all-then the neighbors; then followed what the reader has been made acquainted with. The result of this joke was a desire of the family, communicated by Miss Spinks with many apologies, that the Boston gentlemen would go over to the tavern and lodge, as they really couldn't think of sleeping with a crazy man in the house. So Mr. Hill and his friend adjourned to the Taunton hotel. During the evening, Hill ascertained that the Rev. Stephen Hull, in whose garret he began play-acting, had been located some time in the town of Carlisle, and was the beloved pastor of a clever flock of Yankee parishioners in that ancient and honorable town. From old Gad Brickford he learned the story of one Abner Tanner, a fisherman who started in a fishing smack laden with produce for Boston, viz: herrings, cabbage, onions, &c., but, in a gale, was blown off the coast, and kept sailing until he was brought up in the Mediterranean, and sold his cargo to the Turks at a great profit. The veritable adventures of this Yankee Sinbad were the subject of a drama, and the public have laughed often at Mr. Hill's rich delineation of a real |