"Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. He believes that he is leaving this conscience behind; and I want to watch his disillusion on this particular point. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. There was little more here than a sideboard, a chest for the vestments, and a simple wooden chair. “Men’s waists are neither here nor there; A man scores always, everywhere. And shall their wretched offspring live to blight my hopes, and blast my fame? Never!" And, with these words, he grasped Wood by the throat, and, despite his resistance, dragged him to the very verge of the platform. The chair is in the veranda. On reflection, it occurred to him that he might, perhaps, be able to loosen the iron fillet; a notion no sooner conceived than executed. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley.
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