" "Where are you going?" asked his mother. ‘I am not a person, Marthe. E. ’ She eyed him. Sheppard, vainly trying to discover a gleam of compassion in the thief-taker's inexorable countenance,—"Mercy! mercy!" "Pshaw!" rejoined Jonathan. We shall have a reg'lar squall afore we gets across. Even in the daylight, it had a sombre and suspicious air, and seemed to slink back from the adjoining houses, as if afraid of their society. Work becomes distasteful; one thinks of holidays.
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