I was thus decided, because I saw I had to deal with an extortioner.  A rogue himself, Mr. Daggett was afraid I might get rid of my personal property before he could issue an execution by the regular mode; and he anticipated frightening or constraining me into an arrangement.  It would be my business to disappoint him; and I assumed an air of confidence that soon shook off my companion.  A few minutes later, the key of the old stone debtor’s jail was turned upon me.  I had a little money, and reluctant to be shut up with the company I found in the building, I succeeded in procuring a small, ill-furnished room, to myself.

These preliminaries were hardly settled, when Neb was admitted with the bag.  The poor fellow had been in tears; for he not only felt for me, but he felt for the disgrace and misfortune which had alighted on the whole Clawbonny stock.  He had yet to learn that the place itself was gone, and I shrank from telling him the fact; for, to his simple mind, it would be like forcing body and soul asunder.  All the negroes considered themselves as a part of Clawbonny, and a separation must have appeared in their eyes like some natural convulsion.  Neb brought me a letter.  It was sealed with wax, and bore the impression of the Hardinge arms.  There was also an envelop, and the address had been written by Rupert.  In short, everything about this letter denoted ease, fashion, fastidiousness, and the observance of forms.  I lost no time in reading the contents, which I copy, verbatim.

  “Broadway, Wednesday morning.

  “Dear Wallingford,

“It has just occurred to me that the enclosed may be of service to you; and I reproach myself for not having bethought me of your probable necessities when I saw you.  I regret it is not in my power to ask you to dine with me, en famille, to-day; but Mrs. Hardinge has company, and we are engaged out every other day this week.  I shall fall in with you again, some day, however, when I hope to be less engaged.  Lucy has just heard of your safety and arrival, and has gone to write a note to my father, who will be glad to learn you are still in the land of the living.  The General, who lives with us, desires to be mentioned, and hopes when he returns to England, it may be as your passenger.  Adieu, dear Wallingford; I shall never forget our boyish pranks, which, I dare say, sometimes cause you to smile.

  “Your’s, &c.

  “Rupert Hardinge.”

This letter contained a bank-note for twenty dollars!  Yes, the man to whom I had given twenty thousand dollars, sent me, in my distress, this generous donation, to relieve my wants.  I need hardly say, I sent the bank-note back to him, by the hands of Neb, on the instant, with a cold note of acknowledgment.  I had no occasion for his charity, at least.