oon as it became known that Constance was
gone; and had abandoned himself to a fit of rage, when he became aware
that his black mare was also gone. Mr. Lamotte had driven to town with
his own light buggy; Sybil was gone, Evan was gone; even his stately
mother-in-law was beyond the reach of his obnoxious pleasantries.

He ordered up a bottle of wine, and drank it in the spirit of an ill
used man. Always, in his perfectly sober moments, John Burrill felt
oppressed with a sense of the difference existing between himself and
the people among whom he had chosen to cast his lot.

Not that he recognized, or admitted, his inferiority; had he not
demonstrated to the world, that he, John Burrill, sometime mill worker,
and overseer, was a man of parts, a self-made man.

When he had quaffed a bottle of wine, he began to feel oppressed in a
different way. He was overburdened with a sense of his own genius, and
in a very amiable frame of mind, altogether. In this mood, he joined the
family at dinner; after which meal, a few glasses of brandy added fire
to the smouldering element within him, and straightway he blazed forth:
a gallant, a coxcomb. In this frame of mind, he always admired himself
excessively, took stock of his burly legs and brawny shoulders, and
smiled sentimentally before the mirror, at his reflected face.

There were people who called John Burrill a handsome man; and if one had
a fancy for a round head, with depressions where bumps are desirable,
and _vice versa_, and an animal sort of attractiveness of feature,
consisting of a low, flat forehead, straight nose, large, full red
lipped mouth, fair florid complexion, set off by a pair of dark blue
eyes, that were devoid of any kindly expression, and hair, full beard,
and moustache, of a reddish brown hue, coarse in quality, but plentiful
in quantity, and curling closely; then we will admit that John Burrill
was handsome. Why not? We can see handsome bovines at any fat cattle
show.

After this elation, came the fourth stage; a mixture of liquors as the
evening advanced, and then John Burrill became jealous of his rights,
careful of his dignity, crafty, quarrelsome, and difficult to manage.
Next he became uproarious, then maudlin; then blind, beastly drunk, and
utterly regardless where he laid him down, or fell down, to finish the
night, for his last stage usually dragged itself far into the small
hours.

Gluttonous and meditative in the morning; beginning to swell