her expressed wishes,"
said my father. "I suppose there's 'snug lying' in Siloam; and there's
one thing certain, that the company who occupy the premises are quite
unobjectionable. Kitty will be safer there. Lord! if the gentleman in
black, or the red lady of the seven hills attempted a felonious entry
on her bivouac, what a row the saintly inmates would kick up! It would
be a regular 'guard, turn out!' And what chance would scarlatina and
old clooty have? No, no, she'll be snug there in her sentry-box. What
a blessed escape from ruin! Mary, dear, make me another tumbler, and
d----n the gout!"--he had a sharp twinge. "I'll drink 'here's luck!'
Frank, go pack your kit, and instead of demolishing Selby Sly, see
Kitty decently sodded. Your mother, Constance, and myself will rumble
after you to town by easy stages. I wonder how aunt Catherine will
cut up. If she has left as much cash behind as she has lavished good
advice in her parting epistle, by--" and my father did ejaculate
a regular rasper--"I'll re-purchase the harriers, as I have got
a whisper that poor Dick was cleaned out the last meeting at the
Curragh, and the pack is in the market."

* * * * *

CHAPTER III.

"I have _tremor cordis_ on me."--_Winter's Tale_.

It is a queer world after all; manifold are its ups and downs,
and life is but a medley of fair promise, excited hope, and bitter
disappointment.

Never did a family party start for the metropolis with gayer hearts,
or on a more agreeable mission. Our honored relative (_authoritate_
the Methodist Magazine) had "shuffled off" in the best marching order
imaginable. Before the rout had arrived, her house had been perfectly
arranged, but her will, "wo [**Unreadable] day," was afterward found
to be too informal. It was hinted that the mission to Timbuctoo,
although not legally binding on the next of kin, should be considered
a sacred injunction and first lien on the estates. In a religious
light, according to the Reverend Mr. Sharpington, formalities were
unnecessary; but my father observed, _sotto voce_, in reply, and in
the plain vernacular of the day, what in modern times would have been
more figuratively expressed, namely, "Did not the gospel-trumpeters
wish they might get it!" The kennel, whose door for two years had not
been opened, was again unlocked; whitewashing and reparations were
extensively ordered; a prudent envoy was dispatched to re-purchase the
pack, wh