it out, wondering what message could be written on it. It was a part
of a grocer's sugar bag, written upon in the coarse black crayon used
by the tallymen on the quays at Kingsbridge. The writing was
disguised, so as to give no clue to the writer; the letters were
badly-formed printer's capitals; the words were ill-spelled, and the
whole had probably been written in a hurry, perhaps by the light of
our fire in the barn.

"Hors is laimd," said the curious letter. "Regret inconvenuns axept
Respect from obt servt Captin Sharp."

"Very sweet and to the point," said Mrs Cottier. "Is Nigger lame,
then?"

"Yes," I answered. "Joe says he has been kicked. You won't be able to
drive him for some time."

"Poor old Nigger," said Mrs Cottier, as she unwrapped the
parcel. "Now, I wonder what 'Respect' Captain Sharp has sent me?"

She unrolled the sacking, and out fell two of those straw cases which
are used to protect wine-bottles. They seemed unusually bulky, so we
tore them open. In one of them there was a roll, covered with a bit of
tarpaulin. It contained a dozen yards of very beautiful Malines
lace. The other case was full of silk neckerchiefs packed very
tightly, eleven altogether; most of them of uncoloured silk, but one
of green and another of blue--worth a lot of money in those days, and
perhaps worth more to-day, now that such fine silk is no longer woven.

"So this is what we get for the loan of Nigger, Jim," said Mrs