In which the Reader, no Doubt, will be as astonished as D’Artagnan was to meet an Old Acquaintance.

There is always something in a landing, if it be only from the smallest sea-boat — a trouble and a confusion which do not leave the mind the liberty of which it stands in need in order to study at the first glance the new locality presented to it. The moveable bridges, the agitated sailors, the noise of the water on the pebbles, the cries and importunities of those who wait upon the shores, are multiplied details of that sensation which is summed up in one single result — hesitation. It was not, then, till after standing several minutes on the shore that D’Artagnan saw upon the port, but more particularly in the interior of the isle, an immense number of workmen in motion. At his feet D’Artagnan