"Oh, lud! what's that?" exclaimed a female voice, from an adjoining room. " "Faithful fellow!" murmured Jack. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. Lucy ate without passion. He beamed as she whispered to 22 him that she had seen a table so fine or tasted such wonders. She remembered possessing it during the Gold Rush. \" Lucy shook her hand. But this might be merely a figurative mode of describing his customary vigilance. But he knew. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust.
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