"You needn't go far to do that," returned Quilt; "there he stands. To-morrow morning I shall have made up my mind what to do. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. ” He said as they parted company. The Protestant Flagellant, who whipped his soul rather than his body, who made self-denial the rack and the boot, who believed that on Sunday it was sacrilegious to smile, blasphemous to laugh! Spurlock had gone back spiritually three hundred years. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. The carpenter well knew from the obstacle which had interfered with his own progress, that the unknown could not have passed through the same lock as himself. Wood fancied he heard the exulting laugh of Jonathan Wild. ‘Not another caller will I receive this day. “One is always playing the surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best.
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