" "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. “I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive. Besides, didn't I tell you that I giv' him as good as he brought—and better! I jist touched him with my 'Evenin' Star,' as I call this shillelah," said the watchman, flourishing an immense bludgeon, the knob of which appeared to be loaded with lead, "and, by Saint Patrick! down he cum'd like a bullock. The man turned at the exclamation, and so did several of the bystanders; but they could not make out who had uttered it. His face was white. " "Wretch!" cried Jack, raising his hand in a menacing manner, "your triumph will be short-lived. ” “To a friend?” “To lodgings—alone. " "Well, Sir, I must say you deserve some credit for your ingenuity, at all events," replied Jonathan, repressing a smile; "but, before you put out your foot so far, it would have been quite as prudent to consider how you were to draw it back again. ” “That is quite untrue,” she declared cheerfully. —I'll soon find you out.
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