the aisle, and the effect he expected to
produce amongst the bewildered rustics. He thought of all these things,
and cursed Luke by all the saints in the calendar. The sight of the
musty old apartment, hung round with faded arras, which, as he said,
"smelt of nothing but rats and ghosts, and suchlike varmint," did not
serve to inspirit him; and the proper equilibrium of his temper was not
completely restored until the appearance of the butler, with all the
requisites for the manufacture of punch, afforded him some prospective
solace.

"And what are they about now, Tim?" asked Titus.

"All as jolly as can be," answered the domestic; "Dr. Small is just
about to pronounce the funeral 'ration."

"Devil take it," ejaculated Titus, "there's another miss! Couldn't I
just slip out, and hear that?"

"On no account," said Coates. "Consider, Sir Ranulph is there."

"Well, well," rejoined Titus, heaving a deep sigh, and squeezing a
lemon; "are you sure this is _biling_ water, Tim? You know, I'm mighty
particular."

"Perfectly aware of it, sir."

"Ah, Tim, do you recollect the way I used to brew for poor Sir Piers,
with a bunch of red currants at the bottom of the glass? And then to
think that, after all, I should be left out of his funeral--it's the
height of barbarity. Tim, this rum of yours is poor stuff--there's no
punch worth the trouble of drinking, except whisky-punch. A glass of
right potheen, straw-color, peat-flavor, ten degrees over proof, would
be the only thing to drown my cares. Any such thing in the cellar? There
used to be an odd bottle or so, Tim--in the left bin, near the door."

"I've a notion there be," returned Timothy. "I'll try the bin your
honor mentions, and if I can lay hands upon a bottle you shall have it,
you may depend."

The butler departed, and Titus, emulating Mr. Coates, who had already
enveloped himself, like Juno at the approach of Ixion, in a cloud,
proceeded to light his pipe.

Luke, meanwhile, had been left alone, without light. He had much to
meditate upon, and with naught to check the current of his thoughts, he
pensively revolved his present situation and future prospects. The
future was gloomy enough--the present fraught with danger. And now that
the fever of excitement was passed, he severely reproached himself for
his precipitancy.

His mind, by degrees, assumed a more tranquil state; and, exhausted with
his great previous fatigue, he threw himself upon the floor of his
pri