It was a few minutes past nine o'clock
three evenings previous to the sudden disappearance
of the beautiful `Cigar-Vender,'
whose adventurous life, up to that time, has
afforded us the subject of a former Tale, when
the keeper of a miserable book-stall situated
in a narrow thoroughfare leading from Pearl
into Chatham street, prepared to close his
stall for the night. His stall consisted of
some rude shelfs placed against the wall of a
low and wretched habitation, with a sunken
door on one side of the shelves by which he
had ingress from the side-walk into a dark
narrow apartment that served him as a dwelling-place.
There were shelves against the
street wall on both sides of his door, a board
placed in front of which, encroaching about
two feet upon the pavement formed a sort of
counter. It was supported at each end by
rough empty boxes, in the cavity of one of
which, upon a bundle of straw as it stood on end,
facing inward, lay a small, ugly shock-dog with
a black turn-up nose, and most fiery little gray
eyes. In the opposite box, vis-a-vis to the
little spiteful dog crouched a monstrous white
Tom cat, with great green eyes, and a visage
quite as savage as that of a panther. Thus
with the counter and the boxes supporting it,
the keeper was enclosed in a sort of ingeniously
constructed shop, which he had contrived
to cover by a strip of canvass, which
served as a shade from the sun as well as a
shelter from the storms. The contents of his
shelves presented to the passer-by a singular
assemblage of old books, pamphlets, songs,
pictures of pirates and buccaneers hung in
yellow-painted frames; two-penny portraits
of murderers and other distinguished characters
in this line, with ferocious full lengths of
General Jackson, and Col. Johnson killing
Tecumseh! Rolls of ballads, piles of sailor's
songs of the last war, last dying speeches and
lives of celebrated criminals, were strewn
upon the counter, to which was added a goodly
assortment of children's picture books and
toys. Cigars and even candy were displayed
to tempt the various tastes of the passers-by,
and even gay ribbons, something faded, exposed
in a pasteboard box were offered as a
net to catch the fancy of the females who
might glance that way.

The whole stall with its treasures, was
lighted by a tin lamp suspended by a piece of
twine from a nail above the door which gave
admittance to the little dark room behind the
stall. The light fell full upon the person and
features of the keeper, as he lifted his face
while removing from their places some of the
prints which had garnished the rough wall of
his tenement, preparatory to restoring them
to a box in his room from which he had taken
them when he opened and arranged his stall
in the morning.

This man was low in stature and squarely
framed, with a high protuberance between his
shoulders, nearly level with the top of his
head. He was also lame, his left leg being
shrunk and drawn up so that for the most
part when he stood, he stood on but one leg,
with difficulty touching the ground with the
toe of the other when he walked. The man's
head was finely shaped, and its expression

[figure description] Page 004.[end figure description]

intelligent. His hair was a soft brown, and
curled with a grace and beauty about his neck
that singularly contrasted the unsightly aspect
of his figure. He seemed to be proud of this,
for it was trimmed and oiled with the greatest
care, and arranged about his high, white
forehead with the most fastidious taste. The
features of the man were finely cut, were
even noble in their cast; but a bitter sneer,
a sinister, dark expression of in-dwelling malignity
deformed them, and made them repulsive,
and himself feared.

Yet this man had been born with a heart
as gentle as an angel's and he grew up with
feelings overrunning with benevolence, and
the love of his species. A fairer, purer, holier
spirit of universal love never inhabited the
human bosom. His eye beamed sweetness
and tenderness upon all, and his heart, filled
to the brim with love, sent forth a hundred
streams to irrigate and enrich everywhere
the soil of human affection. He loved all,
and yearned for that sympathy with his love,
which is love's nourishment! But as he grew
from boyhood to manhood, as the dear, domestic
circle which had surrounded him,
with a chain of tenderest affection, link by
link dropped away into the grave, and he was
at length left exposed without the covered
shield of a mother's or a sister's love, to the
cold gaze and unfeeling mockery of the outer
world, how like the sensitive plant, his heart
shrunk up and folded itself within itself! how
his spirit withered as the flower withers before
the sudden frost.

Then he learned his deformity! Then he
learned that men despised him! Then he felt
that he was not loved! How bitter was the anguish
of that conviction! From that hour a
change came over the amiable and loving
spirit! His love gradually grew to hatred as
he grew to manhood, and he felt that he was
at feud with his kind. Yet, at times, as he
struggled on for subsistence, for he had been
left poor, he strove to find some one to love—
some one to love him! His heart was yearning
daily in secret for a soul kindred with his
own! His only solace was books. He read,
read, read that in the world of other's minds
he might become oblivious of the dark
thoughts of his own.

When he was thrown upon his own exertions,
and found every avenue to honorable
exertion closed to him on account of his de
formity, when he found that men turned from
him with contempt, he ceased to mingle with
men: he resolved to be independent of their
favor. With a little money, but a dollar or
two, which he possessed, he purchased a few
books and placed himself near the Park to sell
them. He had no other stall than a basket.
He read constantly. He asked no one to buy
of him; he solicited no man's favorable attention
to his little stock. Yet he sold a few
books daily, and by degrees increased his
store. He then opened a little stall in the
quarter of the town in which Herman de Ruyter
had lived, where he is first introduced to
the reader. Time passed on, and we now
find him where he is again brought to our
notice in an obscure lane, in the act of closing
his little stall. He had still yearned for
the love of some one of his kind in vain. But
he had found none, and then he sought the
love of the brute creation; but even the noble
dog he would have won to his side to love him
with that attachment peculiar to his race,
shunned his advances. At length one day the
ugly little shock-dog which now lay in the
box by his side, being persecuted for its very
ugliness by boys, fled for shelter under his
stall. He extended to the miserable creature
his protection, and from that hour the grateful
animal remained with him and showed towards
him the profoundest gratitude and most
touching affection. Not long afterwards he
saw a man passing his stall with a hideous
and fierce looking cat with a stone tied to its
neck. The pitiable condition of the animal
moved him to save her; for he felt that, like
himself, she was an outcast. He prevailed
on the man to surrender her to him, although
warned that the fierce creature was
too savage to be suffered to go loose. But
from the day the Deformed Book-man took
her she manifested towards him only the
kindest attachment. Thus the three had
lived together many months, being the whole
family of the stall-man. By day they sat on
either side of him, as he read in his books, or
waited in silence on his customers, at night
they shared his little room, one sleeping at
his feet the other at his head. Such was the
character, person, profession, companions, and
domestic arrangement of Rolfe Brant, or `the
Book-man,' as he was most generally called.

He was in the act of removing his last
parcel of musty books from his counter into

[figure description] Page 005.[end figure description]

his rear room, in which at night this outcast
of his kind safely locked up his goods, himself
and his two favorites, when a young man in
the dress of a seaman who was passing by,
stopped and gazed full and intensely upon the
form of Brant, whose back was towards him.
The light of the stall lamp shone full upon the
stranger, who was well dressed in a blue sailor's
round-about open before, with full white
trowsers, a black handkerchief loosely knotted
in front and was without a vest, better to display
his fine blue shirt, which lay in careless
folds across his manly chest. He was tall
and symmetrical, with a bold free bearing,
which was sustained by a fine dark countenance,
shaded by locks of raven black hair
that swept his shoulders. A mustache darkened
his upper lip, and gave strength and
energy to the expression of a face as determined
as it was handsome.

He stood gazing upon the Book-man with a
look partly of recognition, partly of surprise.
At length Brant turned half-round to call to
his dog and cat to follow him into the house.
As he did so, and the features of his countenance
were strongly revealed in profile under
the lamp, the young man uttered an exclamation
of recognition and pleasure. With a
light curled rattan which he carried he reached
over the counter and struck the stall-keeper
lightly upon the shoulder to draw his attention.
At the act the shaggy shock-dog
bristling up his back and showing his teeth
sprung from the box, uttered a fierce yelp of
rage and vindictiveness and flying at him
fastened his sharp fangs in his leg, while the
huge Tom cat leaped like a hyena upon hi
breast and clung there mouthing and spitting
like an enraged ape, and savagely tearing at
his bosom with her sharp claws. The Book-man
had, also, at the same moment turned to
see who gave the blow.

`Rolfe! man! Brant! What the devil!
Call off your cats and imps!' cried the young
seaman as he struggled to free himself from
these assailants. `Do you mean an old friend
shall be torn to pieces in this way?' And as
he spoke he seized the huge cat in both hands
by the throat and with difficulty disengaged
him, bringing away with his claws bleeding
portions of his blue checked shirt. He was
about to dash him to the pavement and then
liberate himself from the dog which still vindictively
tugged at his leg, when Rolfe cried,
pressing forward and grasping the cat also,

`Herman, hurt him not' He is all I love,
or that loves me save Pest! Away, Pest! Let
go and into your house, sir!' he cried to the
shock-dog; which, giving another sharp bite
to the tendon he had fastened upon with his
teeth, sulkily retired as far as the door and
there sat on his haunches and with his long
hair bristling like a porcupine's quill's, contented
himself with growling in a most snappish
and ill-natured way. In the meanwhile
the young man had released his hold on the
Tom-cat and Brant had dropped him upon
the ground saying kindly,

`Go in, Snowy! You are too quick, you
and Pest both of you!'

`Quick as the flash of a gun, Rolfe! What
the devil do you keep such impish beasts
about you for?' he demanded staunching the
trickling blood that flowed freely from the
scratch in his breast, and stooping down to
examine his ancle. `Confound that little
black brute! His teeth are like needles! The
fellow has met his jaws through the skin.'

`I am sorry you have met with such a reception,
Herman,' said Rolfe, in a tone of
more gentleness than was his wont. `Come
in, and I will try and see what I can do for
you?'

`Never mind. They are mere scratches!
Musketoe bites! They are sharp but they
are little fellows those friends of yours, Rolfe,
and are not worth noticing! The scratches
will be well enough in a day or too. I am
too impatient to think about any thing till I
hear where and how my mother is. I have
just now, within the last hour got in from two
years absence at sea, and was hastening up to
the Post Office to see if there was any letter
from her there for me. When I sailed she
was living in Boston, and I have had letters
regularly from her or Maria, until six months
past, since when I have not had a word.'

`You need not go to the Post Office to-night,
Herman, as the hour for keeping it open
has passed. Besides your mother is in New
York!'

`In New York?' exclaimed Herman with
surprise.

`Yes. She has been living here three
months at least!'

`How do you know this?'

`I have seen her pass here often in that
time, and always with such things in her

[figure description] Page 006.[end figure description]

hands as leads me to know she keeps house
and is not visiting!'

`And—and—my friend who gives such good
news, tell me is she well? Looked she well?'
asked Herman earnestly.

`I have now closed my stall, and your
wounds are troublesome to you. Come into
my little room and with some cotton I have
there I will staunch the blood and then we
will talk more at ease!'

Herman looked suspiciously at Pest and
Snow who sat on their haunches on either
side of the door, when Brant, catching the direction
of his glances, made a motion of his
hand. Both obeyed by retiring from the
door and seating themselves at the foot of a
low truckle bed, one at one post, the other at
the other post, from which respective positions
they kept up a most vigilant watch upon
the intruder, from time to time exchanging
glances with each other of the most unmitigated
suspicion of the intentions of the stranger;
for many a month had past since human
foot step had crossed the threshold of their
solitary master.

Herman stooped to enter the door of the
low apartinent and the book-man having taken
down his lamp from the nail outside, closed
the door and turned a ponderous key in an
enormous lock. There was no chair in the
room, and Herman seated himself upon a heap
of books, while his host occupied the side of
the bed. The lamp stood upon a low mantle,
beneath which, in a broken fire-place, were
a few utensils for cooking.

`It is a long time since we met, Herman,'
said Brant after surveying the young man
closely.

`Yet you knew me at the first glance!'

`I never forget the faces of men,' said Brant,
with emphasis. `You recognised me at once!'
he added with severe irony.

`Yes, Brant! I —'

`Enough. You need not tell me what I
know, that God has given me Cain's mark!
So you are returned from sea! You have
grown. You are tall and noble looking, Herman!
Such as you are now you promised to
be when you were a boy!'

`You have not changed, Rolfe,' said Herman
looking at him closely. `Do you remember
that it was you who first told me
about my father's being in prison? From
that day, Brant, the seeds of the devil's wickedness
were sown in my heart. A recklessness
seized upon me, and I felt a wild joy in
making shipwreck of all the good and virtuous
principles my mother, my good and noble
mother had so carefully instilled into my heart—
hoping that if I could be kept ignorant of
my father's crimes I might grow up an honest
man!'

`I remember that time! I pitied you then,
Herman, when I saw the anguish with which
you heard the tale of your father's criminal
deeds. I told it you not in malice, boy, for I
was not then so profoundly the hater of my
species as I am now. Yet I hate not all men.
I find that kindly feelings are still in my heart
when I see you. You did me a kindness then,
and I have never forgotten it. You did me the
only kind act man has done me since my sister
and mother died and left me a blot on God's
earth for every heartless being, perchance,
who stands erect to spit his venom on!' The
dark, deep sunken eyes of Brant glowed as
he spoke and thought of his wrongs from his
kind.

`You take it too much at heart, Brant. People
don't hate you, so much as you think. It
is most in your fancy! But what of my mother?
When did you see her last?'

`On Monday morning.'

`How did she look? Well?'

`Thin and poor!'

`Poor? It is impossible. She had means!'

`Yet she looked poor and sad!'

`I hope not! Did you speak to her?'

`I speak to nobody first, Herman?'

`Was she alone always. Did you not see
any one with her?' he asked eagerly. `Tell
me quickly, Brant?

`But once have I seen her pass with any
one,' aaswered the Deformed, his countenance
changing, and an extraordinary expression
passing over it.

`And who—who was this? was it Maria?'

Who do you mean, Herman? Once before
you spoke of Maria, as having written you?
Of whom do you speak?' This question was
put in a tone of calmness, so calm that it was
plainly assumed to conceal any opposite emotion
that his voice might betray.

`Of — but you do not know, either! We
left the city directly, and he could not know,'
said Herman to himself, the dark, intellectual

[figure description] Page 007.[end figure description]

observing eyes of Brant resting upon his face
the while with the closest scrutiny. `Why it
my sister!' he answered after a moment's
hesitation and deeply coloring; for he saw at
once that any other confession would be imprudent.

`I never knew you had a sister. I knew
your father, that is as I knew other men, and
I knew no tthat he had two children. It may
be so!'

`May be so? Do you doubt my word,
Brant?' cried Herman, his handsome countenance
darkening, and the indications of his
fiery nature, manifesting themselves in every
lineament.

`No, Herman,' answered Brant, a smile
scarcely perceptible, creeping about the corners
of his sarcastic mouth. `No Herman, I
doubt not but that you had a sister! Doubtless,
she has another mother than thine, eh?'

`Was the person you saw with my mother
young and beautiful and about—let me see—
about seventeen she must be by this time!'
asked Herman letting the suspicion pass.

`Such was her description. Both young
and beautiful,' answered the Dwarf, with a
look of extraordinary melancholy and feeling.
`I saw such a maiden passing once with your
mother!'

`Had she blue eyes and fair hair, with a
sweet look and gentle smile?'

`You have described her, Herman,' replied
Brant sighing, then recovering himself, and
frowning, and biting his lips.

`I saw her once, only once! Till now,' he
continued with animation, I knew not who
she was! Thy sister! It is good, Herman. I
thank thee for thy news.' As he spoke the
last words, his face assumed an expression of
singular decision of inward purpose, and he
seemed to have spoken absently to himself,
rather than addressed them to Herman. The
young man did not regard the expression of
his countenance, being at the moment busily
watching the furtive manœuvres of Pest, who
had left his bed-post and seemed to be stealing
around the room for the purpose of making,
as he supposed, further demonstrations of
hostility. The eye of his master, however,
arrested him, and he turned and went snapping
his teeth back to his place.

`What an imp of Satan you have there,
Brant! Well, I am glad to hear from my
mother. I can't imagine what can have
brought her back to New York, But for
meeting you I should have posted off to Boston
to-morrow. Thanks, good Ralfe; now if
you can tell me how to find her out, I shall
be your debtor doubly!'

`That I can't do, Herman; though she
lives in this neighborhood I am confident. I
have wished to ascertain since the —'
here the Dwarf suddenly checked himself,
and added, `since I saw she looked so poor;
for I would gladly have assisted her for your
sake, Herman. So she is his sister?' he added
to himself, with a glowing cheek, and an
eye and lip eloquent with some strange and
deep emotion of the soul within, `So she is
his sister! It may be, and may be not? 'Tis
strange!'

`Well, Rolfe, good night! You can't assist
me farther, and I must go where I can get information.
Yet I dont know where to take
the first step forward?'

`Herman,' said Ralfe suddenly, `do you
recollect your father?'

`I? No!'

`Would you like to know that he was free?
Would you like to see him?'

The young man stood and looked at his interrogater
with intense surprise for several
seconds.

`Is my father still living?' he demanded
hoarsely.

`Yes. I ask you would you like to see
him?'

Herman was silent a moment, and then replied;
`Brant I ought not to wish to see my
father but to curse him; for, but for his crime
I should not have been the man I am? I do
not know,—I cannot say whether I would like
to see him or not! Is he at liberty!'

`I saw him pass here this very day!'

`My father?'

`Yes.'

`How looked he?'

`As he did fourteen years ago, though gray
hairs were mixed with his black locks. He
was something bent, yet his frame was strong
and his step bold!'

`How was he clad?'

`Illy.'

`He is my father too! I should like to see
him, not to be known to him,' answered Herman
thoughtfully. `How has he become
free?'

`His sentence was for life; but after

[figure description] Page 008.[end figure description]

serving fourteen years the Governor has pardoned
him. I knew he was out for I saw it in
the papers last week!'

`I would give much to see him!' answered
Herman with thoughtful earnestness. `I
would give much to behold my father!' he
added with a deeper tone that seemed to come
from the depths of his chest.

`You will find him, doubtless at the Saracen's
Head, for I saw him in company with a
rare villain who haunts there!'

`I will see him, then,' answered Herman
decidedly. `Think you my mother has met
him?' he inquired with a flashing eye.

`No, Yet 'tis possible through him, you
may learn where she is, as he would be likely
to seek her out!'

`Then I go at once to the Saracen's head,'
he answered going to the door, which the
stall-keeper opened for him.

`When you have made the discovery let
me know, Herman? now, good night. I have
entertained you as my guest which I would
never do for any other man!'

`No man would come to visit you often, to
have such a reception as your imps gave me.
You must have a strange fancy for ugliness,
Rolfe, to keep such savage brutes about you.
But no matter, the scars are done bleeding,
and I don't mind it, if they are not poisoned!
Well, good night. I will drop in to see you
to-morrow'

Thus speaking Herman de Ruyter went up
out of the low den which served the Book-man
for a habitation, and rapidly took his way
up the street in the direction of the Saracen's
Head.