s was enough--we instantly radiated in all possible
directions, so that by the time he had descended through the intricacies
of the glen to the field of battle, neither victor nor vanquished was
visible, except, perhaps, a straggler or two as they topped the brow of
the declivity, looking back over their shoulders, to put themselves out
of doubt as to their visibility by the master. They seldom looked in
vain, however, for there he usually stood, shaking at us his rod, silently
prophetic of its application on the following day. This threat, for the
most part, ended in smoke; for except he horsed about forty or fifty of
us, the infliction of impartial justice was utterly out of his power.

[Illustration: PAGE 763-- Usually stood, shaking at us his rod]

But besides this, there never was a realm in which the evils of a
divided cabinet were more visible: the truth is, the monarch himself was
under the influence of female government--an influence which he felt
it either contrary to his inclination or beyond his power to throw
off. "Poor Norah, long may you reign!" we often used to exclaim, to the
visible mortification of the "master," who felt the benevolence of the
wish bottomed upon an indirect want of allegiance to himself. Well, it
was a touching scene!--how we used to stand with the waistbands of our
small-clothes cautiously grasped in our hands, with a timid show of
resistance, our brave red faces slobbered over with tears, as we stood
marked for execution! Never was there a finer specimen of deprecation
in eloquence than we then exhibited--the supplicating look right up into
the master's face--the touching modulation of the whine--the additional
tightness and caution with which we grasped the waistbands with one
hand, when it was necessary to use the other in wiping our eyes and
noses with the polished sleeve-cuff--the sincerity and vehemence with
which we promised never to be guilty again, still shrewdly including the
condition of present impunity for our offence:--"this--one--time--
master, if ye plaise, sir;" and the utter hopelessness and despair which
were legible in the last groan, as we grasp the "master's" leg in utter
recklessness of judgment, were all perfect in their way. Reader, have
you ever got a reprieve from the gallows? I beg pardon, my dear sir; I
only meant to ask, are you capable of entering into what a personage of
that description might be supposed to feel, on being informed, after the
knot had