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A NOVEL WITHOUT A HERO.
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"Nous allons avoir une belle traversée, Monsieur George," said the courier with a grin, as he lifted his gold-laced cap.

"D— your French," said the young gentleman, "where's the biscuits, ay?" Whereupon, Kirsch answered him in the English language or in such an imitation of it as he could command,—for though he was familiar with all languages, Mr. Kirsch was not acquainted with a single one and spoke all with indifferent volubility and incorrectness.

The imperious young gentleman who gobbled the biscuits, (and indeed it was time to refresh himself, for he had breakfasted at Richmond full three hours before,) was our young friend George Osborne. Uncle Jos and his mamma were on the quarter deck with a gentleman of whom they used to see a good deal, and the four were about to make a summer tour.

Jos was seated at that moment on deck under the awning, and pretty