When young Fitzgerald descended to a late breakfast, the morning after the great party, his grandfather was lolling back in his arm-chair, his feet ensconced in embroidered slippers, and resting on the register, while he read the Boston Courier.

“Good morning, Gerald,” said he, “if it be not past that time of day.  If you are sufficiently rested from last night’s dissipation, I should like to have you attend to a little business for me.”

“I hope it won’t take very long, grandfather,” replied Gerald; “for I want to call on Mrs. King early, before her rooms are thronged with visitors.”

“That opera-singer seems to have turned your head, though she is old enough to be your mother,” rejoined Mr. Bell.

“I don’t know that my head was any more turned than others,” answered the young man, in a slightly offended tone.  “If you call to see her, sir, as mother says you intend to do, perhaps she will make you feel as if you had a young head on your shoulders.”

“Likely as not, likely as not,” responded the old gentleman, smiling complacently at the idea of re-enacting the beau.  “But I wish you to do an errand for me this morning, which I had rather not put in writing, for fear of accidents, and which I cannot trust verbally to a servant.  I got somewhat chilled waiting in a carriage near the wharf, last evening, and I feel some rheumatic twinges in consequence.  Under these circumstances, I trust you will excuse me if I ask the use of your young limbs to save my own.”

“Certainly, sir,” replied Gerald, with thinly disguised impatience.  “What is it you want me to do?”

“Two slaves belonging to Mr. Bruteman of New Orleans, formerly a friend of your father, have escaped in my ship, ‘The King Cotton,’ The oldest, it seems, is a head carpenter, and would bring a high price, Bruteman values them at twenty-five hundred dollars.  He is my debtor to a considerable amount, and those negroes are mortgaged to me.  But independently of that circumstance, it would be very poor policy, dealing with the South as I do, to allow negroes to be brought away in my vessels with impunity.  Besides, there is a heavy penalty in all the Southern States, if the thing is proved.  You see, Gerald, it is every way for my interest to make sure of returning those negroes; and your interest is somewhat connected with mine, seeing that the small pittance saved from the wreck of your father’s property is quite insufficient to supply your rather expensive wants.”

“I think I have been reminded of that often enough, sir, to be in no danger of forgetting it,” retorted the youth, reddening as he spoke.

“Then you will perhaps think it no great hardship to transact a little business for me now and then,” coolly rejoined the grandfather.  “I shall send orders to have these negroes sold as soon as they arrive, and the money transmitted to me; for when they once begin to run away, the disease is apt to become chronic.”