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"Meaning, how he wos roasted?”

"I s'pose so," said Ben. "Well, a'ter a bit, thinkin' he 'd made hisself understood, he back'd into the darkness, grad'ally faded away, and appeared to be swaller'd up in the gloom o' the Hollow. And as soon as he wos gone Joe looks at me, and I at Joe; the sweat stood on our foreheads like peas; but, though neither on us spoke, somehow, I can't say how it wos, but one notion cum over our minds at the same time. We had strange misgivings about the beer-can, 'ticklarly as the ghost pointed that way. We looks into the whites o' one another's eyes agin, and then we walked towards the chalk-pit, to the hiding place, as nat'rally as one sucking-pig follows another. And what d' ye think had happened?" demanded Ben of his auditors.

"Can't say."

"The can wos empty," said Ben. "Well," he resumed, "there wos no mistakin' whose ghost it was after that. Poor Stoney Batter! — no wonder he pointed up to the beer-can, for in coorse a'ter bein' burnt to dust and ashes, his ghost must a-been dry. You may be sartin, we pass'd a miserable time that night, but on the followin' mornin', when we got down to the village, the whole place wos in an uproar."

"What, the ghost had been there also, eh, Ben ?"

"To be sure. First he pokes his head into the window, and ketches his wife a-oglin' and coaxin' her new mate as wos to be, and sends her into 'sterricks;' then he puts the whole skittle alley into a swither; 'sides which he'd frightened the coast-guard man into fits."

"What he at the Point, I s'pose?" said one of the lime-burners, with the ready tact of a man who knew the best spot for running a cargo. "The same," replied Old Ben.

"My eyes! what a chance !"

"I b'lieve ye, and one that wasn't allow'd to slip, for, sing'lar enough, the Rose in June' lugger, full o' tubs and backey, was actually worked over the beach that very night."

"How odd!"

"Wasn't it?" said Ben, smiling; "but the funniest freak of all, wos the ghost rubbin' out his own score at the Three Horse-shoes.'" "Couldn't bear to be in debt, I s'pose," said a lime-burner.

"Just so," said Ben. "Ghosts is allers very partiklar 'bout money matters, but Stoney Batter needn't been ashamed of his score, for he went off in such a hurry he hadn't time to settle it."

"What a odd freak, though!"

"It was," said the old man. "At least he had the credit of it; and so he had for runnin' the tubs and backey; for, in coorse, if a ghost wos dishonest enough to unchalk his own score, he'd be up to any sort o' devilry."

"Did he appear in the village again?"

"Not that night-no. Ketch a ghost showin' hisself when he's expected. But, on the following night," continued Old Ben, "it cum to my turn to tend the kiln again; but I'm bless'd if I could get Joe Ludlam to keep me company."

"What, skeer'd by the ghost?"

"Sartinly so I wos 'bliged to go alone; but Joe wos no loss, for he never had wit or courage enough to plan' a tater bed. Well, a'ter I'd lit the fire, and fill'd the kiln, I sot down to smoke my pipe."

"Wasn't you fright'ned, Ben ?"

"Well, it wos a little garish like. Blighted Hollow's a queer place to be alone in, 'specially when such a ghost as old Stoney Batter's is, a caperin' about the country, full o' mischief; 'sides which it wos a blowin' great guns, and lightnin' and thunderin' awful. Howsomever, I crept into the hole there out o' the weather, keeping my eye on the moon, as she wos a bobbin' in and out among the clouds, lookin' as windy as a bagpipe. Well, thinks I," continued old Ben, "what with the glare o' the lightning, the hazy light o' the moon, and the sulphurous blaze o' the kiln, Stoney Batter's ghost will have a good opportunity of making his second appearance, when, I'm bless'd! jist as I'd smoked my pipe out, if I didn't see the same ugly hairy figger, as skeer'd us the night afore, a-grinnin' at me across the kiln. He'd found his voice this time:

And sure

"Are you quite alone, Ben?' says the ghost to me. 'Yes,' says I. Then allow me to drink to your good health,' says he. enough I sees my own can o' beer glued to his lips, and he sucking away at it like a bull calf. Well, thinks I, you 're a pretty sort of a ghost, to drink a poor fellar's allowance like that; so I draws myself out of the hole, determined to have that matter out with him.

"Are you Stoney Batter's ghost ?' says 1.

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No,' says he.

"Who are you, then?' says I.

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Stoney Batter hisself.'

"Stoney Batter hisself !' says I, in astonishment.

"Yes, real Stoney Batter-no more dead than you are, Ben.' And so saying, he walks round the kiln and ketches hold o' my hand, and gives it a gripe, that convinces me he wasn't a ghost, and no mistake."

"Avast there, Ben," said one of the lime-burners, "why, how cou'd that be? wasn't he burnt to dust in the lime-kiln? Mind what you 're a-sayin'."

"In coorse I shall," said Ben, "and now I shall let Stoney Batter tell his own story how he managed to shove along after leaving his jacket, boots, his pipe, and, above all, his bones in the kiln. "Well,"

he continued, "I was glad enough to see old Batter again, so I fetches his pipe, wot sarv'd for his monyment, out o' the lump o' chalk, and down we sot to cuff a yarn. 'And now,' says I, where have you been for these six months?' for that was about the time he 'd been away. "You recollect,' says he, about the time I was miss'd?'

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"Found, you mean,' says I, ' in the kiln ?'

"No matter,' he replied, missed or found, it's all one now. I had been working away pretty stiff getting chalk out o' the pit to burn in the kiln, and p'raps I'd swigg'd a little too free at the beer-can, for the weather wos very hot, so, what with the beer, the work, and the heat, I drops myself."

"Into the kiln?' says I, interrupting him.

"No, no,' said he, I drops myself into the long grass, and wos soon fast asleep.'

"Well.'

666

Well,' continued Stoney Batter, I can't say how long I snoosed, but at last I was roused up by the trampling o' men's feet in the copse, and I soon discovered they wos a hidin' something in a secret cave covered by brambles and bushes.'

"And what they wos a hidin' had never paid duty ?'

"You've hit it,' resumed Stoney Batter. Well, you may be sure I should never split on 'em, therefore it was of no consequence my seeing 'em; but they happened to see me.'

"Well, and what o' that?' says I.

"Why, they didn't seem to fancy it, for, in less than a brace o' shakes, I'd a pistol clapp'd to my head.'

"What! you don't mean to say that they blow'd your brains out, and that the bones we found in the kiln were yourn, eh ?'

666 No, no. Why, you're like the rest o' the folk, will have it that I've been burnt to death. No, they only clapp'd a pistol to my head, and asked me whot I was watching them for. The capt'n o' the gang, you see, wos a stranger in these parts, but some o' the crew know'd me, and promised to be security for my not splittin.'

"All very fine, master lime-burner,' says the capt'n o' the gang, your story about taking a snoose out o' the heat o' the sun, may be true, but we must make things safe. Here,' says he, take that and drink it off. Well, you may be sure I soon swallow'd it.

'D'ye like it?' says he.

'I should think I do.'
'Have another?' says he.
'Don't mind,' says I.

'Well, well,' says the capt'n, a little mollified at seein' the handy way I emptied his glass. Well, Stoney Batter,' says he, I've heard on you afore, and you seem a decent sort of a fellar. Now, we don't mean you any mischief, but you 've seen a little moore than we intended you should, and the cargo's more than ordinary. So you see,' said he cocking his pistol, jist by way o' quickening my judgment, 'we 've taken quite a fancy to you, and, accordingly, we'll give you your choice, of finding yourself stow'd away in some snug hole about here, with a plug of lead as ballast to your brains, or—'

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What?' says I.

'Oh! only to go for a short cruise with us; live as we do, and drink the same sort of stuff you 've just tasted till all 's blue.'

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All right,' says I, I'm your man.'

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Thought you wouldn't want much coaxin',' says the capt'n, grinnin'. Des say not,' says I, must jest send home to my wife to tell her where I'm gone to, though.'

'Can't be done,' says the capt'n.

Poor devil! how she will fret,' says I.

'Yes,' says the capt'n, stowing his pistol away, I should think so.' And then he overhauled me with a knowing look, as much as to say, you're a pretty fellow to fret about. Well, presently he has a short talk with two or three of his men, and I could see it was about me, and then he comes up again, and says, ' mind for a reg'lar lark, old boy?' 'Don't mind,' ses I, what's the nitty ?'

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Oh! jest skin off that dusty old toggery o' yourn, and slip into a bran new suit we've got up in the cave yonder.'

All right,' ses I. Well, you see these smugglers are up to all sorts o' dodges, and I'd no sooner peel'd, than into the kiln goes my old shoes, jacket, and trousers, to make b'lieve that I'd tumbled in.'

"But how about your bones, they couldn't a flung them in any how?'

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“Why, no,' replied Stoney, that wouldn't a bin so easy, and me

here to tell about it. No, but you 'members there used to be a dungheap yonder, full o' all sorts of bones, and old what 's o' name, the ragman, used to pick them out for sale. So the cunnin' smugglers, to make things quite ship-shape, chucked a lot on 'em along with my toggery into the fire, sayin', never mind, old fellar, here's a job for the coroner, and your wife at the same time.'

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"And, sure enough,' says I, the deception wos first rate. Why, the whole country, coroner and all, b'lieves ye to be as dead as a biled lobster.'

"I know they do,' says he, 'twas intended they shou'd: why, Lor' bless ye, I've only to show my phiz in a glimmering night, and I clears the way like a double-headed shot: but mum's the word, Ben,' ses he. And, so sayin', he gives me a gripe o' the fin. Good-bye,' ses he,' old boy, I'm off,'-and off he was like a fly out of a mustardpot.

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"And so you see," said Ben, addressing his two auditors, whose belief in ghosts had given way by this time to undisguised admiration of the cunning scheme which the smugglers had so successfully practised, "and so you see," said he, " ever a'ter that, those who know'd how to put things together, cou'd understand how it fell out, that Stoney Batter's ghost allers happened to walk on them sorts o' nights, as best suited with the tide for runnin' a boat o' tubs and backey at the back o' the Point. But, in coorse," concluded Ben, "the trick got stale at last, it got wind that the appearance o' Stoney Batter, and runnin' a cargo, meant one and the same thing, and, the last time, a coast-guard sent a brace o' bullets nearer his ghostship than was pleasant, and since then, I s'pose, he has shifted his quarters, for I've heard nothing on him since."

SONNET.

(From the Italian of Lorenzo di Medici.)

OFT I recall-if from the eye within

So bright a vision ever can depart

The time, the place, the very dress wherein

I first beheld the charmer of my heart!

Say, Love! who never from her steps dost stray,

How fair! how bright! for thou canst paint her well,

And only thou, her form, her soul, pourtray !

White was her robe-and as the sunbeams deck

With golden lustre the pure mountain snow,

Down that white robe, as down her whiter neck,

Did the rich tresses of her fair hair flow.

The time-the place-but wherefore need I tell?
Since where the Sun shines, there 'tis always day-
And Paradise, where one so fair doth dwell!

ETA.

66

HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE CAPE OF
GOOD HOPE.

Our land is from the rage of tigers freed,
Nor nourishes the lion's angry seed;
Nor in so vast a length our serpents glide,
Or raised on such a spiry volume ride.

DRYDEN'S Virgil.

THE ample repast was concluded; the usual "soupie," vulgarly called a "dram,"-start not, most refined reader-being duly handed round to the gentlemen of the party, a short though solemn thanksgiving was pronounced by our worthy host, who, as the slaves removed the remnants of the feast, proposed that he and I should adjourn to the stoep;" there to assist digestion with a friendly pipe, and to discuss my future projects and plans. Meanwhile the young people engaged in their usual evening game of chess, and Mejufvrouw Rachel, with spectacles on nose, resumed her accustomed task of knitting, as the "tea water,”at that time the universal and perpetual beverage of the Dutch inhabitants of the Cape-was being prepared.

Ignorant of the signification of the word "stoep," I eagerly enquired what it meant.

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"The stoep," replied Mynheer Van Hartzfeldt, "is to the AfricanderHollander, what the shade of his fig-tree was to the patriarch of old, what thedivan' is to the luxurious inhabitant of the East, and what the warm and cheering fire-side' is to you Englishmen of the North. The stoep may here be called our place of relaxation and of rest; in the cool of the early morn, we breathe the fresh air on the stoep; then and there, we sip our cup of coffee and smoke our first pipe ere commencing the labours of the day; at their conclusion-as Abraham used to rest at the threshold of his tent-so do we repair to our threshold, or the stoep before our doors, where this beautiful climate enables us during the greater part of the year to find rest and solace after the fatigues of the day. Let us, therefore," continued he, "repair to the stoep, in order that over a quiet glass and a pipe, we may uninterruptedly discuss the object you have in view."

To the stoep did we accordingly adjourn. I found it to consist in a sort of raised terrace or parapet of masonry running along one face of the house, and thickly overshadowed by a trellis-work of vines, such as I had frequently observed in the sunny lands of Portugal and Spain. A pure unclouded atmosphere, through which now twinkled innumerable stars, allowed us clearly to behold every object around; the "Cape Flats," a wide plain or heath, extending far beyond, and bounded by the dark purple hills in the remote distance, which formed an appropriate and characteristic frame to this soft and most lovely nocturnal scene.

Old Van Hartzfeldt had apparently deeply studied the science of "Emigration and Colonization" in all its various bearings, as more immediately applicable to the part of the world we were in; one-as he termed it-of the lost sciences, in which the ancients had acquired such perfection, and in which even our immediate predecessors, who so successfully peopled the wilds of North America, excelled us, their

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