a trap that proved effectual.  One morning Tommy came puffing into the jail with a satchel over his back.  “I guess Manuel won’t feel downhearted when he sees this—­do you think he will?” said the little fellow, as he put the satchel upon the floor and looked up at the jailer.  “An’ I’ve got some cigars, too, the Captain sent, in my pocket,” said he, nodding his head; and putting his hand into a side-pocket, pulled out one and handed it to the jailer.

“Ah! you are a good little fellow-worth a dozen of our boys.  Sit down and rest yourself,” said the jailer, and called a monstrous negro wench to bring a chair and take the satchel up to the cell.  Then turning to the back-door, he called Manuel; and, as if conscious of Tommy’s arrival, the rest of the stewards followed.  He sprang from the chair as soon as he saw Manuel, and running toward him, commenced telling him what he had got in the satchel and at the same time pulled out a handful of segars that the Captain had sent for himself.  Manuel led the way up-stairs, followed by Tommy and the train of stewards.  Tommy opened the satchel, while Manuel laid the contents, one by one, on the table which necessity had found in the head of a barrel.

“Now eat, my friends, eat just as much as you want, and then I’ll catch the thief that breaks my lock and steals my meat.  I catch him,” said Manuel.  After they had all done, he locked the balance up in his box, and sent everybody down-stairs into the yard, first covering himself with two mattrasses, and giving orders to Copeland to lock the door after him.  Every thing was ready to move at the word.  In this position he remained for nearly half an hour.  At length he heard a footstep approach the door, and then the lock clink.  The door opened slowly, and the veritable Mr. Daley limped in, and taking a key from his pocket, unlocked the little box, and filling his tin pan, locked it, and was walking off as independent as a wood-sawyer, making a slight whistle to a watch that was stationed at the end of the passage.  “It’s you, is it?” said Manuel, suddenly springing up and giving him a blow on the side of the head that sent him and the contents of the pan into a promiscuous pile on the floor.  Daley gathered himself up and made an attempt to reach the door, but Manuel, fearing what might be the consequence if the other prisoners came to his assistance, shut the door before him and fastened it on the inside.

“Bad luck to yer infernal eyes, will ye strike a white man, ye nager ye, in a country like this same?” said Daley, as he was gathering himself up.  This incensed Manuel’s feelings still more.  To have insult added to injury, and a worthless drunkard and thief abuse him, was more than he could bear.  He commenced according to a sailor’s rule of science, and gave Daley a systematic threshing, which, although against the rules of the jail, was declared by several of the prisoners to be no more than he had long deserved.  As may have been expected,