If there was a Yankee bar-keep in HongKong, James Boyle would soon locate him. “You will come back, won’t you?” He nodded cheerfully. In the midst of the holy place, which he had formerly profaned, lay the body of his unfortunate mother, and he could not help looking upon her untimely end as the retributive vengeance of Heaven for the crime he had committed. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. We are nuns. " "You are an angel, I say," continued the poor maniac; "and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived.
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