At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. Dolby was portly and handsome. “You haven’t come here to make a lot of difficulties?” she asked. As this gentleman was going away, he said to Jack in a jesting manner, 'that he should be glad to see him to-night at supper. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. " "Do not doubt me," replied Thames, warmly pressing his hand. " To-morrow! She never beheld it. . Battle, murder, and sudden death—and an old chap like McClintock tuning his piano in the midst of it. E.
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