pared for this alarming effect upon the mind of his sordid spouse, Sir John had endeavoured to neutralize it, by placing before her a large tureen of her favourite water-zootje, which so far answered the purpose, that she instantly dedicated herself to it with great voracity, leaving her guests to shift for themselves, or make a fast instead of a feast, if they did not like to imitate the example of their bostess. In the scarcity of attendants to wait upon so numerous an assemblage, Winky Boss had been pressed into the service, and happened to enter the room, bearing a sirloin of beef, just at the moment when her ladyship was holding up her head to take breath. No sooner had she caught sight of him, than her eyes seemed starting from their sockets, she uttered a piercing scream, let fall the uplifted ladle from her hand, threw herself back in her chair, and ejaculated, "Godt Almagtig! het is Wouter Weegschaal!"

Winky Boss seemed to be scarcely less as

tounded than her ladyship. His eyes, as they were riveted upon her, winked with an alarming rapidity, his arms, losing all power, gradually sunk down to his sides, leaving the dish and the sirloin to make their own way to the floor, and he exclaimed, with a groan, "De Dood ende de Duivel! it is my wife !"

"Your what ?" shouted Sir John, starting up, and hopping towards him, in springs of a yard each: "Your what? my good fellow, my worthy friend, my invaluable Mr. Wouter Weegschaal! will you oblige me by the repetition of that last monosyllable? What did you call her ?"

The party thus addressed remained silent, betraying no further signs of emotion, than by the continued and increased workings of his eyelids.

"'Sblood! you winking loggerhead!" cried Sir John, losing patience, " don't tantalize me in a matter of this moment. Are you Wouter Weegschaal? Is my lady your wife ?"

“Ja, ja; that she is, sure enough," said Boss, with a rueful nod of the head, "at least she was."

"Was, you scoundrel! was, you blinking blockhead!" shouted Sir John, "what do you mean by was? If she was, she is; and body o'me, I believe it now: you begin to look as if she were," cried Sir John, and, at the same time, seizing and grasping his hand, he continued: "My dear Mr. Wouter Weegschaal, my invaluable friend, allow me to congratulate you, for nobody can do it so sincerely as myself. Your wife will be not only restored to you in good condition as to flesh and fatness, but you will be well paid for having favoured me with the loan of her; for she is rich, she must be rich, though the devil only knows where she hides her money. You are welcome to it all: take every thing that belongs to me, provided only you take one thing, that belongs to yourself-videlicet-your wife.”

By this time her ladyship, or Mrs. Weegschaal, as we must henceforth call her, had

been removed from the apartment, in a sort of hysteric, compounded of weeping and waterzootje; and a few questions, addressed to her husband, sufficed to explain that, although his herring-buss had foundered in a storm, as had been correctly reported to his wife, he himself had been picked up by a fisherman of Yarmouth, and carried into that town, where he remained several years, having entered into partnership with his preserver. Not succeeding in this pursuit, and finding, upon his return to Holland, that his wife was wandering about with the exiled king of England and his court, and by no means anxious to resume the connexion, he had entered into the service of the Burgomaster at Rotterdam, where his present master had become acquainted with him in the manner we have already shown.

"Jack Whittaker!" cried Sir John, feeling some sort of compassion for the woman, now that he was sure of getting rid of her, "step and inquire how my lady is, I mean Mrs.

Weegschaal; see that she has every thing she desires, and draw her a fresh mug of small beer to comfort her; she will like nothing better."

"I beg your pardon, Sir John," answered Whittaker," but I'll be cursed if I do. What, the foul fiend! have I been standing all this time behind the chair of a Dutch fisherman's wife? She may draw her own swipes for me! that's the least she can do, after making me drink it so long."

"My kind-hearted Mr. Wouter Weegschaal," continued Sir John-" you have the look of an amiable husband; you must have many thhigs to say to one another after so long a separation; had you not better fly to your wife upon the wings of love?"

“Ja, ja, certainly"-replied the party thus addressed, as he crawled with a most lingering alacrity out of the apartment.

"And now my friends,” cried Sir John, hopping back to his place, and rubbing his hands