canting vagabond in----" and he named a
disagreeable locality. "Never, Mary! pitch that paper away: I dread
that at the end of it the old lunatic will inflict her benediction.
Frank, pack your traps--you must catch the mail to-night; you'll be
in town by eight o'clock to-morrow morning. Be at Sly's office at
nine. D----n the gout!--I should have done the job myself. Beat the
scoundrel as nearly to death as you think you can conscientiously
go without committing absolute murder: next, pay a morning visit to
Kettlewell, and, if you leave him in a condition to mount the pulpit
for a month, I'll never acknowledge you. Break that other seal;
Probably, the contents may prove as agreeable as old Kitty's."

There were times and moods when, in Byron's language, it was judicious
to reply "Psha! to hear is to obey," and this was such a period.
I broke the black wax, and the epistle proved to be from the very
gentleman whom I was to be dispatched per mail to qualify next morning
for surgical assistance.

"Out with it!" roared my father, as I unclosed the foldings of the
paper; "What is the signature? I remember that my uncle Hector always
looked at the name attached to a letter when he unclosed the post-bag;
and if the handwriting looked like an attorney's he flung it, without
reading a line, into the fire."

"This letter, sir, is subscribed 'Selby Sly.'"

"Don't burn it, Frank, read. Well, there is one comfort that Selby
Sly shall have to-morrow evening a collection of aching ribs, if the
Hamiltons are not degenerated: read, man," and, as usual, there was a
running comment on the text.

"'Dublin,--March, 1818.

"'Colonel Hamilton,--Sir,

"'It is my melancholy duty to inform you--'"

"_That you have foreclosed the mortgage. Frank, if you don't break a
bone or two, I'll never acknowledge you again._"

"'That my honored and valued client and patroness, Mrs. Catharine
O'Gorman, suddenly departed this life at half-past six o'clock, P.M.,
yesterday evening, when drinking a glass of sherry, and holding sweet
and spiritual converse with the Reverend Carter Kettlewell.'"

"_It's all up, no doubt: the canting scoundrels have secured her--or,
as blackguard gamblers say, have 'made all' safe?_"

"'She has died intestate, although a deed, that would have
immortalized her memory, was engrossed, and ready for signature.
Within an hour after she went to receive her reward--'"

My father gave a loud hurrah! "_Blessed be Heaven that