ment with her teeth grinding, her i's
glaring, her busm throbbing, and her face chock white; for all the world
like Madam Pasty, in the oppra of "Mydear" (when she's goin to mudder
her childring, you recklect); and out she flounced from the room,
without a word, knocking down poar me, who happened to be very near the
dor, and leaving my master along with his crook-back mistress.

I've repotted the speech he made to her pretty well. The fact is, I got
it in a ruff copy; only on the copy it's wrote, "Lady Griffin, Leonora!"
instead of "Miss Griffin, Matilda," as in the abuff, and so on.

Master had hit the right nail on the head this time, he thought: but his
adventors an't over yet.

CHAPTER V.

THE GRIFFIN'S CLAWS.

Well, master had hit the right nail on the head this time: thanx to
luck--the crooked one, to be sure, but then it had the GOOLD NOBB, which
was the part Deuceace most valued, as well he should; being a connyshure
as to the relletiff valyou of pretious metals, and much preferring
virging goold like this to poor old battered iron like my Lady Griffin.

And so, in spite of his father (at which old noblemin Mr. Deuceace now
snapt his fingers), in spite of his detts (which, to do him Justas, had
never stood much in his way), and in spite of his povatty, idleness,
extravagans, swindling, and debotcheries of all kinds (which an't
GENERALLY very favorable to a young man who has to make his way in the
world); in spite of all, there he was, I say, at the topp of the trea,
the fewcher master of a perfect fortun, the defianced husband of a
fool of a wife. What can mortial man want more? Vishns of ambishn now
occupied his soal. Shooting boxes, oppra boxes, money boxes always full;
hunters at Melton; a seat in the house of Commins: heaven knows what!
and not a poar footman, who only describes what he's seen, and can't, in
cors, pennytrate into the idears and the busms of men.

You may be shore that the three-cornered noats came pretty thick now
from the Griffinses. Miss was always a-writing them befoar; and now,
nite, noon, and mornink, breakfast, dinner, and sopper, in they came,
till my pantry (for master never read 'em, and I carried 'em out) was
puffickly intolrabble from the odor of musk, ambygrease, bargymot, and
other sense with which they were impregniated. Here's the contense
of three on 'em, which I've kep in my dex these twenty years as
skeewriosities. Faw! I can smel 'em at this very minit, as I