“Delays are dangerous,” I replied, “we will not throw a chance away.”

We hastened to the stable, and I despatched the servant on my own horse, with the utmost expedition to the post-office at ——.

N——­ sauntered through a private path in the shrubbery towards the entrance of the grounds, and I made my way through the careless throng, who had no thought what their own fate might be perhaps to-morrow—­to Mr. Nibble, and urged him to delay the sale for an hour, but he said it was impossible, he would not hurry it for half an hour or so, but that they were already pressed for time.  The landed property was first to be brought to the hammer.  I mechanically followed the steps of N——­, and when I overtook him, we saw through a break in the wood, from the increased density of the mob and the elevation of the auctioneer, that the sale was commencing.

We gave up all for lost.  At this moment I fancied I heard the noise of a horse urged to full gallop.  The blood rushed to our hearts; we sprung through the trees towards the road; in another moment Andrew was in sight, urging his horse to his utmost speed.  The instant he saw us he waved his hat, “A packet from abroad, sir,” he sung out as he approached, “from our young master, I’m sure.”

“God be praised, you are saved,” was all I could utter; poor N——­ was faint with sudden joy and hope.  We tore open the envelope, which contained bills from his son in India to a large amount.  I saw N——­ was unable to think, and without more ado, I squeezed his hand, seized the letter, and put spurs to my horse.  The bidding had commenced when I reached the wondering crowd, who rapidly fell back as they saw me approach.  But why should I tire you any longer; in a couple of hours Fernlands remained unpolluted by one of the mob, or legal harpies who had invaded it.  You may guess the rest....

A friend related the preceding incident to me; the reader may suppose him to be addressing myself.  The leading circumstances are strictly true, the names and some trifling matters alone being altered.  The story is invested with interest from its great similarity to a portion of the plot of the “Antiquary;” I have the strongest reason to believe, from the intimate acquaintance the great novelist possessed with the country, that he drew Sir Arthur Wardour’s similar escape from ruin, from a recollection of the event briefly related above.

VYVYAN.

* * * * *

SELECT BIOGRAPHY.

* * * * *

PAGANINI, THE VIOLINIST.

By aid of the Foreign Quarterly Review, we are enabled to submit to our readers the following very interesting Memoirs of this eccentric genius.

By the way, we are happy to find that the above work is enabled to maintain the high character with which it started.  It argues well for the literary taste of this country, by cherishing acquaintance with continental literature, and thus strengthening our resources at home.